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Darren Watts

Quote of the Week from my gaming group...

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RIFTS game:

 

We must retrieve a macguffin from town.

 

the Wizard and Technician have created a distraction.

 

On the way some guards ask us our business in town.

We tell them purchasing hunting supplies.

 

the Cyborg and my ManHunter have gone to the graveyard to

dig the thing up. We are carrying a huge round package

wrapped in tarps past the city guards, who have a dog-boy.

 

We are made, and the (other) guards ask us what's in the package.

Simultaneously we answer:

Manhunter: Supplies.

Cyborg: Night Soil.

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Our saturday game was called, so some of us sat around talking about various games and characters for the evening instead - the current plans in our Rogue Trader campaign came up... and what various members of the command crew are doing;

 

Regarding Vesper (currently not part of the negotiations team):

GM (Lonewalker): You won't give her grenades, but you'll let her have a Reaver Death Cult?

Eurydice's Player (Teh Bunneh): There's not enough face palm in the galaxy.

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Today, Millennium Guard met the Oligarch for the first time. Upon seeing the man who can summon him virtually at will, Gibraltar places Chameleon (the shapeshifter, in human form) in front of him as a shield. Keep in mind, this is like shielding a tank with a grapefruit.

 

Gibraltar: Who are you?

 

Oligarch: I am the Oligarch

 

Gibraltar performs said action and flees!

 

Oligarch: If only I didn't need what was in his head.

 

Chameleon: I've known him long enough. Trust me. There's nothing there.

 

Robin of the Hood: Do you really need to know about soap operas?

 

 

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Couple good ones from my Eberron campaign

 

----------

 

Cast:

Bastion: The last Warforged to emerge from the Whitehearth Forge before it shut down.

Gueybum Fistmonger: Male Dwarf Bard

Nayalisha: Female Changeling Rouge masquerading as an Elf.

Porsche: Female Halfling Wizard

 

----------

 

Bastion has just bloodied his opponent, which triggers one of Gueybum's powers.

 

Bastion: I bloodied him!

 

Gueybum: Congratulations. Have 4 temp hit points. Enjoy them in health.

 

GM: Enjoy them in hell?

 

Gueybum: Why am I here? I have temps!

 

----------

 

The party is aboard a ship headed for Xen'drik. When the Captain and Nayalisha met, the Captain put the moves on her. She picked his pocket while he was close to her. Her prize was 10 gold and one key. The key opens the door to the Captain's quarters. She enters the Captain's quarters surreptitiously, with hopes of a romantic interlude.

 

Captain: Do come in.

 

Nayalisha: That's my line.

 

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(the player whose characters are always of enigmatic or hidden origin is called upon to explain a recent plot twist related to that origin goes on a long, vague discourse which does nothing but confuse everyone, which might even have been her intent) Bruiser-type character: "You tried so hard not to say anything there that you succeeded. Try again, and put in some information this time."

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(the player whose characters are always of enigmatic or hidden origin is called upon to explain a recent plot twist related to that origin goes on a long, vague discourse which does nothing but confuse everyone, which might even have been her intent) Bruiser-type character: "You tried so hard not to say anything there that you succeeded. Try again, and put in some information this time."

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The last chapter of my group's run in Deathwatch begins tomorrow.

 

The tides sweep out through the canals of the city. The evening breeze reveals fighting across the city. The forces of the Emperor are losing the battles. A small force of the Adeptus Astartes, Deathwatch Space Marines, hold the hope of the planet in their mighty hands. Let slip the dogs of war.

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Previous communiques in the same game.

 

 

+++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++ Sender: Unknown

Receiver: Unknown

Subject: Deathwatch deployment

Message: Deathwatch Kill-Team deployed in Jericho Reach. Mission to assist Inquisitor during threat evaluation. Kill-Team out of contact. Inquisitor out of contact. Attempt to regain contact by 2004.M13. If no contact by 2104.M13, authorize Exterminatus. Message Ends.

 

 

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

To: Planetary Defense HQ (scrambled link) From: Communications Center

Subject: House of Echoes communique

Listening post has received a distress call from the House of Echoes. At last connection, all was secure. At 02:40 Capital, a major attack is reported at the House. Initial communications indicated a relief force of Adeptus Astartes had reached the House. Intelligence now believes that a force of Traitor Marines has breached the House defenses and leads an attack of rebels to eliminate our interstellar communications capability.

Command requests release of a strike force to relieve the House and consolidate the Astropath in the Govenor's secure bunker facilities. Need is Orange priority. Response needed immediately.

In the Emperor's Service,

Major John Cataue

Communications Central Relay

Blessed be the Name of the Emperor.

 

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Been ages since I've even visited the forums here - the new layout still anmnoys me excessively - but the problem of my long absence has been exacerbated by the collapse of my Cthulhu campaign, and being far too busy for gaming most weeks anyway, let along gaming and transcribing quotes :( Nonetheless, did start another Warhammer 40K campaign a few weeks back - but this time we're playing the bad guys. The characters -

Cassius
, a Space Marine formerly of the Storm Crows chapter, who realised that the Imperium is doomed, that the Lords of Terra have betrayed the Emperor's vision of an entirely secular humanity, and thathis entire life has been built on a lie. Despite the fact that the next few hours will see him getting advice from mutants and assistance from rogue psykers, and making deals with demons, still denies he's fallen to Chaos. Naturally, the rest of us find this hilarious.

 

Rold Dundee
, escapee from the prison world of St Annand's Penance (the player wanted a world like Australia - since St Annand is a desert inhabited solely by convicts, deadly reptiles, and venomous insects, I thought it counted). Out for revenge. Since he's spent the last 200 years in astasis cage in an Inquisitorial ship, the trail might be a tad cold.

Me
: Somehow I can picture a scene that goes "That's not a daemon weapon, THIS is a daemon weapon"

Kastalla
, a rogue Psyker, who is determined to live forever by killing anything that threatens her. This, too, is hilarious.

 

Jrska
, hyena-headed beastwoman mutant, native of the Screaming Vortex warp storm, and enthusiastic devotee of the Lord of Excess and Pleasure, Slaneesh. Played by yours truly, and oh my it's going to be
fun
.

 

Waking up in the deep holds of the Imperial ship, when the power to the stasis cages finally runs out. By the looks of things some kind of riot broke out, most of the inmates were incinerated in their cells, and we got lucky. It also sounds like the ship in dead in space. While Cassius interrogates the servo-skulls, Jrska finds a bit of debris to run along the bars, as she sings.

Jrska
:
*singing*
"Nobody knows the trouble I've been"

 

Cassius is less than impressed by the company he's keeping when he wakes up.

Cassius
: Wonderful. A degenerate, a witch, and a convict.

 

Jrska takes it all in stride, on the other hand, and is careful not to antagonise the Space Marine. After all, he could be a useful barricade between her and whatever antagonists lurk on the derelict ship. Jrska is also entirely comfortable with the fact that she and the other inmates are stark naked - more then comfortable in fact, when she sees Cassius's posthuman gengineered physique. Then she sees the other result of his engineering - chem-gelding.

Jrska
: What a waste. Well, I suppose that's what happens when you use all those steroids...

Cassius OOC
: Well, maybe I'll get a mutation to fix it.

Kastalla OOC
: Now we know why Horus fell to Chaos

Cassius OOC
: 'I'll finally be able to get some'

Shortly thereafter, we encounter three scavengers who dare contest Cassius's ownership of the power armour they're dragging out of one of the interrogation labs. Jrska picks a suitable ledge to perch on and watch the show, and comments to Kastalla and Dundee

Jrska
:This is why I need some kind of automated popcorn dispenser following me around.

 

Everybody else's equipment is in the interrogation lab too, including Jrska's neural whip (lovingly run across her hands, the metal barbs tickling delightfully), her venomous pet Thing (part standard poodle, part Gila Monster), and her backpack full of Hallucinogen Grenades.

Jrska
:
*offering a handful to Cassius*
Party favour?

 

There are, naturally, elevated walkways aboard the ship.

Jrska
: *
sings
*... do my little turn on the catwalk...

 

Finding and going through the prisoner records, security keys, identity lanyards, etc. Jrska collects many of the latter as accessories, while the others get on with the business at hand.

Jrska
: Did they get my good side?

Rold Dundee
: Do you even have a good side?

Jrska
: Of course I do! See? Nice backside too. *
leer
*

 

Jrska
: Who's a good Thing. Who's a good Thing. You always wanted to be an assistant warden, didn't you? Didn't you? Good boy.

 

Jrska
: Thing's bling

 

Bluffing our way past the cannibal tribe, Jrska proves her worth to Cassius.

Jrska
: Excuse me?! Who do you think we are? Who do you think YOU are?
*invading the cannibal's personal space*
Even in your wildest dreams, what led you to think you had
any
say in where we go and who we see?

Cannibal
:
*nervously conferring with colleagues*
You may see Mother now.

Jrska
: Yes, yes we will. Lead the way.

Cassius
: Now
that's
useful.

 

Jrska
: And what are you doing later?

Cannibal
: Eating you

Jrska
: *
leers
* Oh, yes please.

GM
: I walked right into that one, didn't I?

 

Rold is a bit uncomfortable with Jrska's uncontrolled lechery.

Rold Dundee
: There has to be somebody else that looks better, I'm covered in dirt

Jrska
: Hey, I have been in a stasis cell for two hundred years. A girl has needs. Though there's always Kastalla - I don't mind the scars. After a session with me she'll probably have more - it's not a proper party till someone loses an eye.

 

Jrska
: Is that a gun in your hand or are you just here to jerk off?

 

Thing falls in battle, thanks to Kastalla loosing control of her abilities.

Jrska
: I'll have your ovaries for this, bitch!

 

Jrska
: Poor thing... He was such a good beast... The things he could do with his tongue!

All
:
Headdesk

Me
: I told you you'd regret letting me play a Slaneeshi cultist.

 

Jrska skins a survivor alive with the edge of a power blade, in honour of her lost Thing. And since it's a entire party of evil characters, and Chaos to boot, the pecking-order and backstabbing has already been established. But since we're not stupid, none of us are willing to backstab the others while they're still useful, and if there's any chance they'll survive to retaliate. That doesn't stop a venomous rivalry between Jrska and Kastalla, especially after Kastalla reveals she can be just as manipulative and charismatic as the beastwoman.

Kastalla OOC
: I've got Radiant Presence too.

Jrska
: Bitch.

Kastalla
: Slut.

Cassius
: Skank.

 

Jrska
: *
innocently
* If we're talking about implanted weaponry, I once knew a man with a Crotch rocket

All
:
Headdesk

 

Eventually, we discover the Inquisitor who captured us welded to the floor and host to a daemon - highly amusing - and we are warned that the ship's head interrogator is himself out of stasis and planning to drop the ship out of Warpspace and signal for help - less amusing. The daemon is going to need a new host body if he is going to assist. One of the cannibals will do nicely. Cassius makes a deal that they will free the daemon and give him a new host, on the condition he swears not to harm the party, and assists with taken down the Interrogator and any surviving Imperial servants. The rest of the cannibals are a little upset at what happens to the one that was volunteered.

Cassius
: Well, I did promise him power beyond imagination.

 

Interrogator Crane is captured alive, Jrska gets a nice forcefield as reward for her useful efforts, and the deamonhost blown away after it tried to open the Gellar Fields while we were still in Warp. The betrayal WAS a little predictable.

Jrska
: Thank you, Lord Cassius... *
to Dundee
* See? You've got to know when to flatter.

 

Cassius
: Did anybody NOT see that coming?

Jrska
: *
shrugs
* Premature, perhaps.

Cassius
: It happens - performance anxiety

 

But now we need to nudge the ship into the Screaming Vortex, and away from Imperial retribution - happily, Cassius only needs to eat a few parts of the Interrogator to gain the necessary skill. Jrska gets to work on the naked and securely bound Crane.

Jrska
: Hello. I need you to answer a question for us - which of your appendages do you value least?

Kastalla
: *
pointing at the obvious*
That one.

Jrska
: Well, obviously, but I'm not going to make Lord Cassius eat
that
.

Crane
: Abomination! You will get no answers from me! The God-Emperor will-

Jrska
: Tongue it is then *
slice
*

.

 

And so into the Screaming Vortex.

Jrska
: It's good to be home. I really don't know how men can live out there. Having black night skies is so
boring
- how can they stand to live somewhere where the sky isn't the colour of a poisonous orchid?

 

The derelict ship materialises over a world wracked by perpetual war between Slaneesh and Nurgle.

Rold Dundee
: The Planet of the STDs

 

We'll have to move fast before the other ships realise the new arrival is actually derelict, but I'm confident we can bluff them. And Jrska's brother, a pirate captain, may well be around somewhere even after two centuries. But that will have to wait until next time. Cassius' player predicts in a few years Cassius will be completely corrupt and treating Jrska like an obedient pet.

Me
: I think you may be mistaken in who has who well-trained.

 

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I'm so glad to see you back, DrHoz.

 

I've been continuing to play the Rhyming Bugbear (who usually speaks in 3rd person) in D&D, but the name's changed. My character died and got resurrected.

 

Jack: Hellion's dead, and the dead shouldn't come back.

This must be someone else - call him Jack!

 

 

Jack is bold, Jack is brave,

No fear of death 'cause he's Jack-in-the-Grave!

 

 

But my longest speech so far was before that, during a mission when we were told to find a "Radiant Vessel" and wound up busting in on and ruining some kind of evil ceremony just as a woman is giving birth to a half-Orc who seems to be a prophesied messianic figure of some sort.

 

Jack (at the time, Hellion) :

 

Halfwit Halfling sitting on a raft

Hellion thought him rather daft.

A radiant vessel he said we should seek

But Hellion thought his logic weak.

 

For a vessel could hold drink or food

Or be a ship that floats upon the flood

Or even a vein that carries blood.

 

If we know not what it might be,

How would we recognize, even if we see?

 

But now 'tis obvious as the sun,

This infant is the Radiant One!

 

 

 

What with these kind of encounters, and the whole death and resurrection experience, I've said Jack is spending his spare time in temples, asking the priests questions about the Gods, the afterlife, and the meaning of an unaligned Bugbear fighter's life. In Rhyme. But with INT 10 and WIS 9, he may not understand the answers.

 

These days Jack does eagerly frequent

Doctor and saint, to hear great argument

About it and about, but always Jack

Goes out by the same door where in Jack went

 

(apologies to Omar Kayam)

 

Lucius Alexander

 

The palindromedary observes that when the other players give Lucius grief about the rhyming, he threatens to make a ninja who speaks in haiku

 

 

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One of the conversations from the short Freebooterz campaign, where all the PCs were Orks, and some had NPC Minderz (Git One and Git Two, as they were named)

Zoggit the Weirdboy
: Right! You're Git One! An' You're Git Two!

Git One
: Er... how iz we supposed ta remember dat den?

Zoggit
: I dunno, write it on ya fore'ed or sumfin.

Git Two
: Wot... like I write Git Two on 'IS forehead, so I can tell who I am? I can't see me own forehead, boss.

Zoggit
: Er.. wait.. I dunno! Shut ya gob! Yerz givin' me a headache!

All
:
*Carefully backing away - Ork Psykers being dangerously explosive*

 

After a successful coup, the new Warboss decides the band will be run by himself and his three most intimidating Boyz - i.e. the PCs.

Random Ork
: Er.. so which one a yooze tells us what ta do den?

Warboss
: We all do, ya git. It's gonna be like 'aving four bosses, gottit?

Random Ork
: Wot... like... one big Ork with four 'eads, or sumfin'?

Mad Dok Madison
:
*eyes light up with unholy glee*
Aha! AHA!AHAHAHAHAHAHAHAAAA!

Warboss
: No! Down! Down!
*spritzes the demented Painboy with water, clips him with rolled up newspaper, etc, before he gets too carried away with this idea*

 

One boring rainy afternoon on the planet Pittstop

Git One
: I waz wonderin'... I waz wonderin'... where da humies come from, anyway?

Warboss
: Humies come from da planet Terra.

Git
: Da planet Terra. Terra. Dat sounds ded scary. How comes we don't come from da planet Terra?

Warboss
: Coz we're Orks. Humies come from Terra, dat's why dere scared all da time.

Git
: Urr. Why's dat den?

Mad Dok Madison
: Because they're got little bits of their planet in their blood, old boy. Just like we have little proper Orky planets in ours.

Git
: Nah, dat's stupid, I dun 'av no little planets in me blood.

Mad Dok Madison
: Of course you do, old boy. I can show you if you like...
*holds up a chain-scalpel*

Git
:
*goes pale*
Dat's alright, Dok, I'll believe ya. Little planets in me blood, sure fing. ... But dat's not wot I meant, anyway. Where duz Humies come from? I mean, I came up near a cabbage patch... is dat why I'm green? Duz humies sprout near carrots? Dere kinda orange. And why duz humies 'av dem two kinda humies anyway? I mean, sum of dem 'av dangly bitz, and some of dem 'av wobbly bitz. Do sum of dem big ones have both, doh.

Warboss
:
*Putting an end to this useless philosophy*
Ya's green cuz ya Orky. An' stop wiv all da finkin. I do tha finkin' round 'ere.

Git
: Gotcha, Boss. Cabbages is more Orky den carrots.

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My Laundry RPG event from Swancon, back in Easter. I just used the characters from the game book - they're a good spread, and I was a little rushed before the con to prepare anything special. In the end I had to throw in a few of the main characters from the novels (they chose Pinky, and the Police Detective from Concrete Jungle), because I had so many people eager for a go. One of the players was actually from Milton Keynes, which was nice :)

Milton Keynes, after the thing with the cows. A cushy placement for Laundry operatives that would rather keep out of trouble - no Grand Nodes, no Class Three phenomena, no cults or buried alien cities or visitations from other galactic globules. Nothing apart from the imminent extermination of all life on Earth, that is.

 

The Laundry : Protecting the Earth from the Scum of the Multiverse

 

The PCs were in Milton Keynes cleaning up after the mess described in The Concrete Jungle. Not that many of them were cleared for the full details, but they did know that somebody at the Q-Division R&D centre in Milton Keynes had gone nuts, killed all his co-workers, and been dealt with when he went to the main office in London. The local police liason knew more, and still went a bit tense whenever somebody mentioned security cameras.

 

It wasn't likely that anything had escaped from R&D, but since Human Resources didn't want the PCs to think this was a complete holiday, they asked them to check out a local geek, who Predictive Branch had flagged as a person of possible interest. This individual turned out to be most definite interest, since there were Class Two Detection Wards up around his flat. And his recent web history turned up an unhealthy interest in undeciphered ancient languages. The way he answered the door with an eyepatch on certainly made them nervous, after some of the PCs' experience with Basilisk Guns, and a brief episode of police violence later they discovered that things were far worse then they'd imagined - they had a Aklo outbreak on their hands.

 

Aklo, as BLACK SABOATH clearance revealed, was a fractal memeplex, an information virus, apparently optimised to infect humans via the visual cortex, and then unfold to occupy more and more of the host's mind, and like natural viruses imposing behavioural control to ensure it's rapid propagation. One of those behaviours was 'Spread the Virus', and the other 'Assemble and Open a Gate to the Outside'. Happily for humanity, the virus was far more virulent that it would optimally be, and victims usually died long before they could carve out the woodcuts for an Aklo lexicon. Of course, that was before the Age of Mass Communication. The target geek had been preparing an animated Aklo GIF to upload onto the BBC website. This, incidentally, wouldn't have worked, since the Laundry and other similar organisations keep a close lookout for that sort of crap, but the PCs still needed to track down Patient Zero and anybody he might have infected, before the government had to impose extreme measures - after all, the last Aklo outbreak was in Dresden at the end of the Second World War.

"I don't want to have to nuke a major UK city!"

"Milton Keynes is
not
a major UK city."

 

The search went quite well, despite Patient Zero being a Typhoid Mary - he was born without a Corpus Callosum, so the Aklo infection couldn't unfold normally - and Pinky didn't get to upload SCORPION STARE into a soccer stadium's security cameras, but they did inadvertently blow up a house, and the Artist's Rifles did have to use CS gas on crowded of panicky civilians. It could have ended MUCH more badly :)

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Been in a weekly hackmaster Roll20.net campaign and as can be expected from Hackmaster, it's pretty brutal. But our initial storyarc involved a necromancy cult and we fought a lot of undead. Skeletons in particular found that my Great Warhammer wielding barbarian was quite problematic.

 

Ullyff has been making relatively short work of the skeletons and, in his two encounters with the cultists, he's managed to crit and slay them both.

So when one of the cultists returns as a headless wight, he is perplexed.

 

"How can I bash his skull in if he has no skull!?"

 

the encounter tide starts to turn in our favor, Ullyff scores a big hit on the wight, "Ah-ha! No head but that neck is sticking out like a tent-post!"

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The Imperial prison transport, Chains of Judgement, so recently 'liberated', is now safely ensconced within the Screaming Vortex warp storm, for certain definitions of 'safe'. Deviant Slaanesh cultist Jrskalooks forward to showing her new allies around the place - she grew up there, after all. But perhaps she'll relax with some of her unholy tomes first.

Rold Dundee
: The 'Twilight' series

Jrska
: Oh, no, just a few of my favourites - '120 days of Sodom - Scratch & Sniff Edition', and this one... I really like this one... lavishly illustrated, half the pages stuck together, describing in exquisite detail how the author took everything good and moral and righteous and perverted them into things so unholy that the universe itself recoiled in horror... it's called "What I Did On My Holidays'

 

Jrska
: We could also watch some old vids...
Pacific Rimjob
...
Bender's Game
...
Girl With A Pearl Necklace
...
9 1/2 Wanks

GM
:
Saving Ryan's Privates

Jrska
:
'Star Whores Episode IV : A New Hole
'. That was a good one. Twincest, big black men waving their weapons around, breath denial, and years of argument about premature ejaculation.

All
: ....

Jrska
: 'Han shot first'

All
: *
headdesk
*

Anyway - we are currently orbiting the planet Pyrultide, which itself is currently swinging near the labyrinthine ruins of Sacgrave. We have a nearly derelict ship, a tribe of cannibals for a crew, and the freedom of Chaos to do whatever we now wish.

Jrska
: We can take the cannibals with us. They can set up a restaurant. Just picture it - you've already got The Fat Duck, now we can have The Long Pig. On the other hand, pork's nice, but I prefer veal.
*waits in vain for a response from the others*
Ah well. We can't ALL be quick on the uptake.

Alas, yet another individual claims credit for our survival of the last 200 years - the ancient, and badly mutated, Navigator of the Chains of Judgement. Exactly how many people have managed to survive 200 years on this ship, anyway? He demands we acquiesce to his own plans, and has already signalled to Sacgrave as part of his scheme to get a proper crew, in return for some mercenary work by Cassius (and the rest of us).

Mutant Navigator
: How do you think you have survived the last 200 years? That you have not been cast upon the reefs of the Warp?

Rold Dundee
: Gellar field.

Jrska
: Stasis tanks are good for that too.

 

GM
: ....I haven't thought of a name for this guy.

Unnamed Mutant Navigator
: Names are unimportant.

All
:
*Applaud the GM*

Rold Dundee's player
: 'I haven't used my name in 200 years, I've forgotten.'

Regardless, Cassius does not take kindly to any attempts to enlist his service - understandable, given the way the Imperium betrayed him and the Emperor's vision. He shoots up the communication monitor. Jrska politely makes herself scarce - such lack of self-control does not bode well for her own plans for the former Space Marine.

Jrska
: Violence towards inanimate objects is alarming. Violence towards animate objects is amusing.

The Navigator backs down after Cassius sets out to hunt him down through the ship and demonstrate the Navigator's error of judgement.

Cassius
: He doesn't need his arms and legs to navigate.

 

Me
: He just misjudged what you were capable of - we already know you're capable of superhuman levels of Denial.

Nonetheless, we do need more crew. Or any crew. And Sacgrave is a good source for anything a warband might need. We decide to meet with this mystery contact on Sacgrave anyway.

 

How to make PCs paranoid.

GM
: One of the lighters is strangely untouched.

Cassius
: Then let us not marr its pristine condition.

 

Jrska
: We can tell if this part of town is Slaaneshi or Nurglite by counting bathhouses. Slaanesh has them, Nurgle needs them.

 

Jrska
: Flamers would be quite useful against followers of Nurgle.

Cassius
: And the followers of Slaanesh will just enjoy it.

The contact, Garath, has sent a beautiful slave to meet us at the landing zone. Jrska, of course, ogles. As she points out, the only reason to own and send such an attractive slave is to show her off and make others jealous, and it would be rude to not respond.

Jrska
: Lead the way. You! Manservant! Carry Lord Cassius' luggage!

Rold Dundee
: But he doesn't have any.

Jrska
: Just pick up something and carry that.

 

Jrska
: We have come to meet with you, in accordance with the prophecy.

Rold Dundee OOC
: What prophecy?

Jrska OOC
: Their isn't one. But there's no way it can hurt us if they think there
is
.

 

Cassius
: I need crew for my ship.

Garath
,
with suspicious innocence
: Oh?

Jrska OOC
: *
sigh
* Anyone want to bet we still have a ship when we come back? .... No takers?

Jrska 'speaking for her lord Cassius', negotiates the deal - we recover something called the Tyrant's Cord - a potent symbol of mastery of the Pox Tribes of Pyrultide - and either sell it to Garath, or at least ensure it doesn't fall into the hands of his rivals. Cassius growls his discontent for the bargain - after all, he'll be taking most of the risk. Jrska translate this into more polite language.

Jrska
: Please understand, my lord is of mercurial temper. Master Garath, what incentive can you offer to ensure we do not simply sell this information to your rivals?

Real Life
:
*Lights fade out ominously*

The understandably irked Garath now insists we only sell the Cord to him, but he will arrange good credit for us at the markets on Sacgrave. Shopping Time!

Jrska
: *singing*

I do shock my fellow gamers at one point. They've known me for years, and I don't think they ever realised how manipulative I can be when I put my mind to it.

Me
: Jrska is getting you a best quality armour polishing kit, so you'll owe her a favour, and which
you
can use to better serve Lord Cassius.

Other players
:
*Eyes bug out*

Me
: Slaanesh cultist - it's
all
social manipulation.

Some amusement in the markets, when Jrska gets three locals to argue amongst themselves as to which one is selling a genuine treasure map - all of them, apparently - and when Rold is provoked into a fight with a lightning-hurling mercenary, and that rapidly escalates. It turns out that the mercs were simply testing us, and are duly impressed. They are not, however, impressed by Cassius' offer of employment

Mercenaries
: Yeah, but will you pay us?

Cassius
: All the loot you can carry.

Dundee's player
: 'Aw, but we're all DEX-based'

 

Jrska
: I didn't get to sing all the songs I was hoping to.

Cassius
: For which we are grateful

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The Imperial prison transport, Chains of Judgement, so recently 'liberated', is now safely ensconced within the Screaming Vortex warp storm, for certain definitions of 'safe'. Deviant Slaanesh cultist Jrskalooks forward to showing her new allies around the place - she grew up there, after all. But perhaps she'll relax with some of her unholy tomes first.

Rold Dundee
: The 'Twilight' series

Jrska
: Oh, no, just a few of my favourites - '120 days of Sodom - Scratch & Sniff Edition', and this one... I really like this one... lavishly illustrated, half the pages stuck together, describing in exquisite detail how the author took everything good and moral and righteous and perverted them into things so unholy that the universe itself recoiled in horror... it's called "What I Did On My Holidays'

 

Jrska
: We could also watch some old vids...
Pacific Rimjob
...
Bender's Game
...
Girl With A Pearl Necklace
...
9 1/2 Wanks

GM
:
Saving Ryan's Privates

Jrska
:
'Star Whores Episode IV : A New Hole
'. That was a good one. Twincest, big black men waving their weapons around, breath denial, and years of argument about premature ejaculation.

All
: ....

Jrska
: 'Han shot first'

All
: *
headdesk
*

Anyway - we are currently orbiting the planet Pyrultide, which itself is currently swinging near the labyrinthine ruins of Sacgrave. We have a nearly derelict ship, a tribe of cannibals for a crew, and the freedom of Chaos to do whatever we now wish.

Jrska
: We can take the cannibals with us. They can set up a restaurant. Just picture it - you've already got The Fat Duck, now we can have The Long Pig. On the other hand, pork's nice, but I prefer veal.
*waits in vain for a response from the others*
Ah well. We can't ALL be quick on the uptake.

Alas, yet another individual claims credit for our survival of the last 200 years - the ancient, and badly mutated, Navigator of the Chains of Judgement. Exactly how many people have managed to survive 200 years on this ship, anyway? He demands we acquiesce to his own plans, and has already signalled to Sacgrave as part of his scheme to get a proper crew, in return for some mercenary work by Cassius (and the rest of us).

Mutant Navigator
: How do you think you have survived the last 200 years? That you have not been cast upon the reefs of the Warp?

Rold Dundee
: Gellar field.

Jrska
: Stasis tanks are good for that too.

 

GM
: ....I haven't thought of a name for this guy.

Unnamed Mutant Navigator
: Names are unimportant.

All
:
*Applaud the GM*

Rold Dundee's player
: 'I haven't used my name in 200 years, I've forgotten.'

Regardless, Cassius does not take kindly to any attempts to enlist his service - understandable, given the way the Imperium betrayed him and the Emperor's vision. He shoots up the communication monitor. Jrska politely makes herself scarce - such lack of self-control does not bode well for her own plans for the former Space Marine.

Jrska
: Violence towards inanimate objects is alarming. Violence towards animate objects is amusing.

The Navigator backs down after Cassius sets out to hunt him down through the ship and demonstrate the Navigator's error of judgement.

Cassius
: He doesn't need his arms and legs to navigate.

 

Me
: He just misjudged what you were capable of - we already know you're capable of superhuman levels of Denial.

Nonetheless, we do need more crew. Or any crew. And Sacgrave is a good source for anything a warband might need. We decide to meet with this mystery contact on Sacgrave anyway.

 

How to make PCs paranoid.

GM
: One of the lighters is strangely untouched.

Cassius
: Then let us not marr its pristine condition.

 

Jrska
: We can tell if this part of town is Slaaneshi or Nurglite by counting bathhouses. Slaanesh has them, Nurgle needs them.

 

Jrska
: Flamers would be quite useful against followers of Nurgle.

Cassius
: And the followers of Slaanesh will just enjoy it.

The contact, Garath, has sent a beautiful slave to meet us at the landing zone. Jrska, of course, ogles. As she points out, the only reason to own and send such an attractive slave is to show her off and make others jealous, and it would be rude to not respond.

Jrska
: Lead the way. You! Manservant! Carry Lord Cassius' luggage!

Rold Dundee
: But he doesn't have any.

Jrska
: Just pick up something and carry that.

 

Jrska
: We have come to meet with you, in accordance with the prophecy.

Rold Dundee OOC
: What prophecy?

Jrska OOC
: Their isn't one. But there's no way it can hurt us if they think there
is
.

 

Cassius
: I need crew for my ship.

Garath
,
with suspicious innocence
: Oh?

Jrska OOC
: *
sigh
* Anyone want to bet we still have a ship when we come back? .... No takers?

Jrska 'speaking for her lord Cassius', negotiates the deal - we recover something called the Tyrant's Cord - a potent symbol of mastery of the Pox Tribes of Pyrultide - and either sell it to Garath, or at least ensure it doesn't fall into the hands of his rivals. Cassius growls his discontent for the bargain - after all, he'll be taking most of the risk. Jrska translate this into more polite language.

Jrska
: Please understand, my lord is of mercurial temper. Master Garath, what incentive can you offer to ensure we do not simply sell this information to your rivals?

Real Life
:
*Lights fade out ominously*

The understandably irked Garath now insists we only sell the Cord to him, but he will arrange good credit for us at the markets on Sacgrave. Shopping Time!

Jrska
: *singing*

I do shock my fellow gamers at one point. They've known me for years, and I don't think they ever realised how manipulative I can be when I put my mind to it.

Me
: Jrska is getting you a best quality armour polishing kit, so you'll owe her a favour, and which
you
can use to better serve Lord Cassius.

Other players
:
*Eyes bug out*

Me
: Slaanesh cultist - it's
all
social manipulation.

Some amusement in the markets, when Jrska gets three locals to argue amongst themselves as to which one is selling a genuine treasure map - all of them, apparently - and when Rold is provoked into a fight with a lightning-hurling mercenary, and that rapidly escalates. It turns out that the mercs were simply testing us, and are duly impressed. They are not, however, impressed by Cassius' offer of employment

Mercenaries
: Yeah, but will you pay us?

Cassius
: All the loot you can carry.

Dundee's player
: 'Aw, but we're all DEX-based'

 

Jrska
: I didn't get to sing all the songs I was hoping to.

Cassius
: For which we are grateful

I've missed your tales, Drhoz!

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A potential player learns the difference between Dark Heresy, where you play Inquisitorial acolytes, and Black Crusade, where you can play Chaos Marines, rogue psykers, cultists, traitors, aliens, mad scientists, etc.

"But isn't 40K RP all about being hyper-puritanical space investigators that don't get to have any f... Oh..I like."

 

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The Imperial prison transport, Chains of Judgement, so recently 'liberated', is now safely ensconced within the Screaming Vortex warp storm, for certain definitions of 'safe'. Deviant Slaanesh cultist Jrskalooks forward to showing her new allies around the place - she grew up there, after all. But perhaps she'll relax with some of her unholy tomes first.

Rold Dundee
: The 'Twilight' series

Jrska
: Oh, no, just a few of my favourites - '120 days of Sodom - Scratch & Sniff Edition', and this one... I really like this one... lavishly illustrated, half the pages stuck together, describing in exquisite detail how the author took everything good and moral and righteous and perverted them into things so unholy that the universe itself recoiled in horror... it's called "What I Did On My Holidays'

 

Jrska
: We could also watch some old vids...
Pacific Rimjob
...
Bender's Game
...
Girl With A Pearl Necklace
...
9 1/2 Wanks

GM
:
Saving Ryan's Privates

Jrska
:
'Star Whores Episode IV : A New Hole
'. That was a good one. Twincest, big black men waving their weapons around, breath denial, and years of argument about premature ejaculation.

All
: ....

Jrska
: 'Han shot first'

All
: *
headdesk
*

Anyway - we are currently orbiting the planet Pyrultide, which itself is currently swinging near the labyrinthine ruins of Sacgrave. We have a nearly derelict ship, a tribe of cannibals for a crew, and the freedom of Chaos to do whatever we now wish.

Jrska
: We can take the cannibals with us. They can set up a restaurant. Just picture it - you've already got The Fat Duck, now we can have The Long Pig. On the other hand, pork's nice, but I prefer veal.
*waits in vain for a response from the others*
Ah well. We can't ALL be quick on the uptake.

Alas, yet another individual claims credit for our survival of the last 200 years - the ancient, and badly mutated, Navigator of the Chains of Judgement. Exactly how many people have managed to survive 200 years on this ship, anyway? He demands we acquiesce to his own plans, and has already signalled to Sacgrave as part of his scheme to get a proper crew, in return for some mercenary work by Cassius (and the rest of us).

Mutant Navigator
: How do you think you have survived the last 200 years? That you have not been cast upon the reefs of the Warp?

Rold Dundee
: Gellar field.

Jrska
: Stasis tanks are good for that too.

 

GM
: ....I haven't thought of a name for this guy.

Unnamed Mutant Navigator
: Names are unimportant.

All
:
*Applaud the GM*

Rold Dundee's player
: 'I haven't used my name in 200 years, I've forgotten.'

Regardless, Cassius does not take kindly to any attempts to enlist his service - understandable, given the way the Imperium betrayed him and the Emperor's vision. He shoots up the communication monitor. Jrska politely makes herself scarce - such lack of self-control does not bode well for her own plans for the former Space Marine.

Jrska
: Violence towards inanimate objects is alarming. Violence towards animate objects is amusing.

The Navigator backs down after Cassius sets out to hunt him down through the ship and demonstrate the Navigator's error of judgement.

Cassius
: He doesn't need his arms and legs to navigate.

 

Me
: He just misjudged what you were capable of - we already know you're capable of superhuman levels of Denial.

Nonetheless, we do need more crew. Or any crew. And Sacgrave is a good source for anything a warband might need. We decide to meet with this mystery contact on Sacgrave anyway.

 

How to make PCs paranoid.

GM
: One of the lighters is strangely untouched.

Cassius
: Then let us not marr its pristine condition.

 

Jrska
: We can tell if this part of town is Slaaneshi or Nurglite by counting bathhouses. Slaanesh has them, Nurgle needs them.

 

Jrska
: Flamers would be quite useful against followers of Nurgle.

Cassius
: And the followers of Slaanesh will just enjoy it.

The contact, Garath, has sent a beautiful slave to meet us at the landing zone. Jrska, of course, ogles. As she points out, the only reason to own and send such an attractive slave is to show her off and make others jealous, and it would be rude to not respond.

Jrska
: Lead the way. You! Manservant! Carry Lord Cassius' luggage!

Rold Dundee
: But he doesn't have any.

Jrska
: Just pick up something and carry that.

 

Jrska
: We have come to meet with you, in accordance with the prophecy.

Rold Dundee OOC
: What prophecy?

Jrska OOC
: Their isn't one. But there's no way it can hurt us if they think there
is
.

 

Cassius
: I need crew for my ship.

Garath
,
with suspicious innocence
: Oh?

Jrska OOC
: *
sigh
* Anyone want to bet we still have a ship when we come back? .... No takers?

Jrska 'speaking for her lord Cassius', negotiates the deal - we recover something called the Tyrant's Cord - a potent symbol of mastery of the Pox Tribes of Pyrultide - and either sell it to Garath, or at least ensure it doesn't fall into the hands of his rivals. Cassius growls his discontent for the bargain - after all, he'll be taking most of the risk. Jrska translate this into more polite language.

Jrska
: Please understand, my lord is of mercurial temper. Master Garath, what incentive can you offer to ensure we do not simply sell this information to your rivals?

Real Life
:
*Lights fade out ominously*

The understandably irked Garath now insists we only sell the Cord to him, but he will arrange good credit for us at the markets on Sacgrave. Shopping Time!

Jrska
: *singing*

I do shock my fellow gamers at one point. They've known me for years, and I don't think they ever realised how manipulative I can be when I put my mind to it.

Me
: Jrska is getting you a best quality armour polishing kit, so you'll owe her a favour, and which
you
can use to better serve Lord Cassius.

Other players
:
*Eyes bug out*

Me
: Slaanesh cultist - it's
all
social manipulation.

Some amusement in the markets, when Jrska gets three locals to argue amongst themselves as to which one is selling a genuine treasure map - all of them, apparently - and when Rold is provoked into a fight with a lightning-hurling mercenary, and that rapidly escalates. It turns out that the mercs were simply testing us, and are duly impressed. They are not, however, impressed by Cassius' offer of employment

Mercenaries
: Yeah, but will you pay us?

Cassius
: All the loot you can carry.

Dundee's player
: 'Aw, but we're all DEX-based'

 

Jrska
: I didn't get to sing all the songs I was hoping to.

Cassius
: For which we are grateful

"A Space Marine, a Hyena Mutant, a Psyker and a fake Australian go into..."

Sounds like the beginning for a series of terrible jokes. And some really nice stories for this Thread :)

 

But almost more important for me right now is that you managed to post a YouTube link without a current bug in the new Software locking up the thread:

http://www.herogames.com/forums/forum/software/other-software-online-resources/3595900-forum-bug-several-pages-of-threads-inaccessible-you-tube-problem

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In my own Deathwatch game, the Kill Team has commandeered a Chimera to reach a Genestealer Patriarch before he summons the dreaded Tyranids. They spent 20 mins planning to assault a barricade in a city they must pass to get to their destination. They forget to tell their Imperial Guard driver their full plans. When the Assault Marine flies in as a distraction, their driver (me-GM) floors it and charges the blockage. They all look at me in stunned disbelief. Then broke down laughing when I told them. "That sounded like the plan from where your lead footed driver was sitting up front." In my defense, that was exactly what it sounded like to me, and I had the driver act accordingly. If they want the NPCs to read their minds, they need to draft a telepath.

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On Sacgrave, and getting permission from Cassius to acquire a guide, and tech support. Naturally, Jrska is doing the selecting. For a guide, she looks around for any obvious tourists - the one in somewhat singed Imperial finery - silk cravat, lace collar, long embroidered coat, and, of course, giant shoulderpads - looks ideal.

Jrska
: Ah, the Imperium of Man, where your importance is determined by the size of your shoulder-pads, and how much you cut off your own field of vision. No doubt the Emperor went around in a giant sombrero and blindfold.

 

Aladar van Rijn, it turns out, is a Rogue Trader who barely escaped with his skin when the authorities discovered his growing interest in forbidden commodities. He lost his entire fleet in the subsequent battle, and then his flagship when he fled to the Vortex and crashed on Sacgrave. Jrska has of course chosen him because he looks naive. She's right, but he swallows her flattery so completely that she starts to doubt her own judgement - maybe he really IS competent.

Jrska
: After all, he goes around dressed like that and he hasn't been accosted yet. Maybe he actually
can
look after himself.

 

Aladar's choice of a showy ceremonial sword in a universe where half the noteworthy people carry power weapons may be evidence to the contrary.

 

The nearest itinerant Heretek is easy to recruit as well, even if he refuses to give his name.

Jrska
: Hi there cogboy, how would you like your very own starship engine to fondle?

 

Jrska
: Just a cog in the great machine...

Cog
: Not any more.

 

Of course, there's still the need to find the thousands of crew the Chains of Judgement will need. True, there's the cannibal tribe and their leader, Mother, but who is the mysterious Father?

Jrska
: Does it really matter? There's probably a whole lineage. There's Great-Uncle, who rules the aft engine compartments... And Auntie Prunella. Nobody talk about her.
Nobody.

 

Ensuring Aladar and Cog's loyalty - to herself - and simultaneously making herself indispensable to Cassius.

Jrska
: Lord Cassius is supremely generous to those who pledge their loyalty to him. Of course, he demands the very best from his minions, and it is my duty to ensure that you do not waste his time. So impress me and I'll put in the good word.

Cassius' player
: .... Wow.

Off to one of the many wrecks on Sacgrave, where we have been told the Tyrant's Cord may be found. Things to avoid en route - the many Dark Eldar amusing themselves at the fighting pits, buying slaves, etc, and the mutant inhabitants of the ruins beyond the settlement. Although the latter may be useful as material components of Cassius' prognostications.

Jrska
: Try not to attract their attention.

Cog
: Don't piss off the Dark Eldar.

Cassius
: Good advice for any Eldar.

Jrska
: Well, the Light Eldar are less likely to torture you to death.

GM
: ... Perhaps.

Jrska
: The Light Eldar will kill you. The Dark Eldar will kill you - eventually.

 

Jrska
: Hello mutants! Small, poorly defended party here! Easy pickings!

 

Somewhat suspiciously, Garath's crashed ship has not been stripped and salvaged yet. That might be because the shipyards of Q'sal are infamous for welding technology and demonology.

Jrska
: Imperial ships run on AC. Q'sal ships run on DC - Demon Current.

 

Most of the crew appear to have survived the crash - and then, annoyingly, something went through the survivors like a chainsword through soft cheese. This something included at least one space marine, judging by the assorted human wreckage. We'll have to go back to the Whispering Halls, to see if anybody saw the thieves returning. And, of course, to eat, socialise, drink, etc.

Me
: This being the Imperium, the potato is probably extinct and replaced by the Vampire Squash

 

Cog
: Has anything big and nasty arrived recently?

Jrska
: Apart from Rold Dundee?

 

Somewhat frustratingly, everybody seems too scared of retribution to identify the perps we're pursuing. Not unreasonable of them, so Jrska reasonably resorts to dragging a random pedestrian into an alleyway and torturing the information out of them. It's not much, but the antagonists include TWO space marines, a heretek, and a witch. Jrska turns the victim loose, still mostly intact.

Jrska
: Don't worry about that, it'll work its way out in a couple of days.

 

The local liege promises us information if we deal with a small mutant problem he's having. Cassius' solution is to offer them employment, and eventual revenge. Jrksa checks off one item in her Corrupt Cassius mental checklist - Recruit Mutant Army. The liege does not, in fact, have much useful information - earning him a place at the top of Cassius' own mental list of People More Useful Dead - but a poke around the slave markets does turn up a few survivors of Garath's crew, going cheap due to their sorry state. They're reluctant to have anything to do with us or their attackers, but Jrska talks them around.

Jrska
: I'm sure you'll be useful to my Master one way another - perhaps in his rituals.

 

As intended, they assume she means human sacrifice, and suddenly fall over themselves to be helpful. All Cassius actually needs are names to focus his precognition.

Cassius
: I'm not about unnecessary cruelty.

Cog
: You said that with a straight face. I'm impressed.

 

Cassius enacts his divinations, and Jrska is targeted by a Dark Eldar looking for someone to humiliate.

GM
: As long as you keep grovelling, he's going to keep demeaning you.

Jrska
: Don't knock it til you've tried it, sweety.

 

Jrska keeps the Eldar distracted by a fine display of cringing, long enough for Aladar to figure out what she's doing, and shoot the alien in the back of the head. Of course, since his choice of weapon is a pretty, but pretty feeble , laspistol, the ensuing melee comes as something of a surprise. Nonetheless, they triumph, and the Eldar's Agoniser sword and Lacerator pistol are claimed as trophies.

Jrska
:
*giving Aladar her very best leer*
Remind me to show you how grateful I am, later.

Aladar van Rijn
: 8-(

 

And off to the Vaults, in the hope of getting ahead of our enemies and setting up a high explosive ambush. Aladar's experience as a starship commander proves unhelpful.

Me
: Despite them both being dark, you can't use 'Navigation : Space' underground

 

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In my own Deathwatch game, the Kill Team has commandeered a Chimera to reach a Genestealer Patriarch before he summons the dreaded Tyranids. They spent 20 mins planning to assault a barricade in a city they must pass to get to their destination. They forget to tell their Imperial Guard driver their full plans. When the Assault Marine flies in as a distraction, their driver (me-GM) floors it and charges the blockage. They all look at me in stunned disbelief. Then broke down laughing when I told them. "That sounded like the plan from where your lead footed driver was sitting up front." In my defense, that was exactly what it sounded like to me, and I had the driver act accordingly. If they want the NPCs to read their minds, they need to draft a telepath.
heehee - very good :)

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Cog
: If we have to do all sorts of social interactions, then the big buff fighter type is going to be useless.

Jrska
: Oh, I'm sure we can find
some
use for them. Just let me get my pimp hat.

 

Cog
:
*classifying party members*
Crafter, thief, wizard, fighter, and pornomancer.

 

Hurrying through the labyrinthine ruins of Sacgrave, in pursuit of a superior party currently holding the macguffin we seek. Naturally, we are promptly distracted by a closed door.

Cog
: I see a lack of sound behind the door...

Cassius
: Synethesia, already? Jrska, what gave you done?

Jrska
: Nothing! It has nothing to do with that electromagnet I was waving behind his CPU earlier, either.

 

Within are assorted debris and the inert form of a Juggernaut, the quasi-mechanical demon beasts of Khorne.

Cog's player
: Is there an appropriate knowledge check?

Me
: Yes, it's called Code Brown

 

Cog
: I think the fighter just volunteered to poke it with a stick.

Jrska
: If you don't mind, I'm just going to go explore behind these rocks.

 

Cassius
: Were you dropped on your head as a child?

Rold Dundee
: Several times.

 

Not inert enough, alas. Rold's prodding, and Cassius' even more insanely unwise psychic probing, wake the damn thing up.

Jrska
:
*to Rold*
This is your fault!
*Slapslapslap
*

Cassius OOC
: Actually, it was me - I just timed it for when Dundee was poking it.

Jrska OOC
: Well, even if I did think it was, I wasn't going to slap
you
.

 

Jrska
: Going to pick it up by the tail, and say "Isn't she a beauty?" as you wave it at the camera, are you?

 

Jrska
: What a pity Kastalla isn't here - we could throw her in the way and run.

 

Jrska OOC
: What you need is a really big rolled-up newspaper. Down, boy! Bad juggernaut! Bad juggernaut!

 

Luckily for us, Cassius manages to annihilate the thing with mind bullets. Unfortunately, this draws the ire of Khorne, who has a well-known dislike for psykers at the best of times, and he sends another Khornate demon to deliver a strongly worded message. Words like "Slaughter" "Dismember“ and “Bloodily Annihilate“

Jrska
: You thwacked it so hard you turned it into a Bloodletter!

Rold Dundee
: I didn't know you could do that!

Cassius
: Neither did I!

 

To our extreme relief, we don't loose anybody in the ensuing frantic battle, and Rold gains a shiny new sword that the Bloodletter left behind after it exploded in a paroxysm of gore that would put a samurai flick to shame. We settle down to do the obvious - find someone to blame for this near disaster.

Jrska
: We ran in to help you with the Juggernaut. More fool us.

 

Jrska
: I should skin you alive ... But I only do that to my friends.

Cog
: Why did you even go in there?! Apart from the demon, it was an empty room!

Jrska
: Oh, shut up, you. If there'd been any tech in there you'd have been the first one in.

 

Pressing on, a chance encounter with Dark Eldar - indeed, the same Dark Eldar we skewered in the market earlier. Possibly he's still feeling a bit fragile, since rather than seek exquisite revenge, he negotiates a deal. The Dark Eldar prevent our target's transport from arriving, and we help the Eldar recover a certain artefact from the labyrinth. This seems equitable, and, thanks to all those treasure maps Jrska picked up earlier, much simpler than anybody expected (especially the GM). After that, it's a matter of tracking our targets to the Painted Ziggurat, and planning our attack on their position. They're barricaded themselves on top of the structure, waiting vainly for extraction.

Cassius's player
: Why am I not surprised that one of Jrska's minions has 'Double Team'.

Me
: And since he's part Gila Monster, Thing has two anyway.

Cog
:
*facepalm*
... Slaanesh cultists... Remember your dedication to cold logic...

Jrska
: Don't worry cogboy, I'll show you the fun things we can do with magnets later... Magnets - how the work do they f***.

 

GM
: Good things come to those who wait - quicker yet to those who take

 

Jrska
: And no poking juggernauts!... If anybody is going to be poking demons it'll be me

 

Alas, the demolition charges we brought with us are insufficient to collapse the upper level of the Ziggurat, so instead we settle for wrapping dozens of hallucinogen grenades around the explosives, and have Cassius hurl the resulting package into their midst. This works admirably. Indeed, spectacularly well. The Space Marine Psyker is not only badly injured by the faceful of high explosive fun, the chemical shrapnel drives him completely berserk - so much that he can't use his psychic abilities. The Space Marine Berserker, on the other hand, develops acute paranoia and flings himself into cover. Their pet psyker runs raving right off the edge of the building and ends up with both shinbones driven into his chest cavity, and the Heretek leading the group looks around at this sudden mayhem and comments "Well, that escalated quickly".

 

The Berserker gets away - Rold, aided by his suspiciously easy-to-use Hellblade, even manages to go toe-to-toe with him for a few rounds - but the other three are not so lucky. With the Tyrant's Cord thus acquired, we can return to Garath for our due reward. Hopefully Garath will attempt to renege on the deal - the Cord is potent item indeed, and it matches Jrska's eyes so very nicely....

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