Drhoz

My brother has found a new game to terrorise - the Day Z mod for ARMA 2, although he's been amusing himself on the standalone too. He's already got the point that the entire forest occupying the middle of the map is effectively his personal domain. Players will rather run the gauntlet of sniper-infested townships rather than take a shortcut through what is now known as the Haunted Forest. He started his campaign of terror by wearing a hessian sack with one eye-hole over his head, a lantern under one arm, hefting a fireman's axe and playing creepy music over the game's audio stream. Then he stood behind a bush and just waited, while players armed with crowbars etc nervously investigated the light and creepy music. Which is when he set his head to deranged high-speed wobbling, changed the music to what he describes as creepy yodelling, and leaped out of the bushes screaming gibberish and laying about him with the axe. Picture the scene. Not surprisingly the other players completely freaked. The only one with a gun managed to accidentally shoot his own friend, and after they'd all run off blindly into the woods they agreed it was the scariest thing they'd ever fucking seen. And then Ian turned it up to eleven. He would interrupt the chat channels with distant pig squeals and giggling "looking for you, fishie...Gonna find you, fishie...." and carrying out these promises in a campaign of terror that made the Pigman a creature of nightmare. And this in a zombie apocalypse setting. He does have a certain amount of social justice in his make-up. Such as when snipers would set up shop on the cliff tops to kill re spawning players. You see, Ian has discovered that, unlike walking, sneaking, or even standing still, rolling along the ground has no associated sound effect. So he would silently roll up behind a sniper, and start using another bug in the game to poison the other PC. The Pigman: Feed person rotten fruit. Feed person disinfectant. Feed person blood pack. Sniper's HUD: You have a bad taste in your mouth. Sniper: Eh? I've been poisoned! How - *turns around to find the Pigman looming over him, head wobbling maniacally, and squealing like a stuck pig* At this point more than one of the snipers has recoiled right off the cliff. And then he got hold of a crossbow. PCs lurking around the woods would hear things the following. The Pigman: reeeeeeeeeeeee, fishy fishy.... I can see you.... And then everybody would hear a p-chunk, and get the message that another PC was dead. Ian had a grand ol time stalking one of them. The Pigman: reeeeeeeeeeeee, looking for me, ain't you, fishy? You're a cute one... Gonna make love to you.... reeeeeeeeeeeee At this point Victim One runs for it, Ian shoots him the leg, and he screams for help. An ally comes running, right past Ian who has ducked down, his hessian sack the same colour as the tree bark. Ian then shoots the new guy in the leg as well. The Pigman: Two little fishies! Two little fishies! Dunno what I'll do... Cut the head off one and the bottom off another.... reeeeeeeeeeeee. The two victims are completely losing their shit, begging the Pigman to let them go, and frantically offloading everything they own as bribes - weapons, gear.... And clothing. The Pigman: Getting me excited now, fishies! The Pigman does go into town occasionally, when he needs gear his victims aren't carrying. Once, he spotted another PC going by the name of Kahleesi. She was talking to a trader, so Ian rolled up behind her and started a campfire. She was a bit upset when she burst into flame. The Pigman: You're not the Khaleesi! The true Khaleesi is immune to fire! The Khaleesi also fell victim up Ian's method of disposing of unwanted petrol drums. This involved piling them up near a random base, and attaching some C4. The resulting mushroom cloud was visible and audible across the entire map. The Khaleesi was not pleased to find her base reduced to concrete walls and her loot scattered across the landscape. Occasionally, well-armed teams DO go into the woods. One such laid a line of flares out behind them, so they wouldn't get lost. The Pigman silently stalked them, extinguishing each flare as he went. PC: What happened to our flares? I thought they were supposed to last for hours. PC 2: .... Oh no. The Pigman: reeeeeeeeeeeeeeee All PCs: *scream, panic, flee into the darkness in random directions* One character managed to get the drop on the Pigman, back before everyone knew what he was capable of, and they still thought he was a special GM event. He demanded weapons and loot. Pigman started jiggling and swaying from side to side. Other PC: You don't have any weapons? Pigman spasms and jerks, and carefully places a book on the ground. Other PC: You want me to read this? Well, OK. And this is wear Ian abuses ANOTHER bug in the game - a book, when read, occupies the entire screen. The Pigman: *reaches across and handcuffs the other PC* Other PC WTF?!?! Dude! You can't leave me like this!!!! The Pigman: *just stares for a long time, without moving, then flips the bird and fire off a few rounds into the air to attract wandering zombies, and runs off, squealing like a pig and babbling about little fishies.* It's got to the point that the mere sound of pig squeals provokes panic, regardless of the situation. The Pigman: reeeeeeeeeeeee Player: Oh god.... I just fired 400 rounds into the bushes. I'm out of ammo and I'm in the middle of nowhere. Ian did manage to terrorise one team's base, by popping up at windows, silently jiggling and wobbling spasmodically. The player inside, of course, opened fire, but Ian had already ducked back down. Player: ... Did I just see that? Ian repeats this performance at another window, provoking the same response. At the third window, he starts squealing as well, and the people inside lose their shit completely. Players: We're friendly!!! We're friendly!!!! Don't kill us, we're friendly!!!! The Pigman: Fishies don't shoot when they're friendly. Reeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!!!!!! He's also taken to jelly-beaning the unwary, leaving a trail of almost empty ammo cartridges off to an obvious trap - a valuable firearm, just sitting on the ground. And all the terrain around it shot up with hundreds of bullet holes. The Pigman then hides in the bushes nearby and waits. He's watched players stand there for minutes at a time, thinking about whether to risk it. One more unwise individual wanted to go back for the gun, with help. His more experienced friend wanted nothing to do with it. Paranoid Player: I'm not going there with you. I'm not going there with an army. I know who's behind this - he's hilarious but completely fucking insane. I've watched him throw that hessian mask one way, and while you're shooting at it he's running up behind you with an axe. He'll put that mask on one of your wounded allies and while you're shooting at your friend he's running up behind you with an axe. He will be there, watching you Insufficiently Paranoid Player: But it's a really good gun! One-shot kill! Paranoid Player: And how long will it take you to load it? Insufficiently Paranoid Player: ... 30 seconds? Paranoid Player: Right. 30 seconds for him to run up behind you with an axe. As it was, the insufficiently paranoid player found a noob to watch his back. The Pigman rolled up to the noob, tasered him, and after they figured out that this wasn't some sort of electrical trap and they were being hunted by the Pigman, he already had them covered with a shotgun. The Pigman: Drop your pants. Drop your loot. Fishie fishie. He has them both strip to their underwear, cuffs them, force feeds them rotten fruit, and drags them off to a cliff top. Their, he throws the antidote ( itself corrupt, but he doesn't tell them that ) off the cliff, and gives them an ultimatum - one jumps off the cliff, and ones goes free. The noob, having less to lose, jumps. Noob: Hey, I survived! Wait, I'm still handcuffed. And I'm bleeding. And now I'm dead. Fuck. Insufficiently Paranoid Player: You'll let me go now, right? The Pigman: No fishie fishie .... You and me get to play a game.... Insufficiently Paranoid Player: *is dragged off screaming into the woods* Other players on the audio channel, wondering at the noise: What are you screaming about? Insufficiently Paranoid Player: He's got me! He's going to do something! Paranoid Player: I warned you. You deserve everything you get. What he gets is being dragged to an abandoned house, his leg broken, his hands cuffed behind his back, and informed that somewhere in the house are the keys to the cuffs, a medipack, and a gun with one bullet. Also, that he'd better hurry, because there are people coming over. The Pigman: *fires multiple shots into the air to attract zombies, and leaves. * Fishie Fishie. And that's just the Zombie mod of the game. Wait until you hear about everything else he's been up to...

I was at Swancon the evening of the second session, but they recorded some quotes for me. Some, perhaps thankfully, without attribution or context. -Thing about being a Troll, it's sort of like having the stretching powers. Don't Lord it over the rest of us! Inkubus: Which is a better spell, Prophylaxis, which I have to sustain, or just Cure Disease? Greenlight: he's shaking dice at me! Greenlight: Do I see any traps? GM: no. Labrat: All the girls in here seem to be the real thing. Titus: Hey! I was going to make that joke! It appears that whoever tried to kidnap Euphoria had a back-up plan. At least, a second back-up plan, after their attempted mid-ocean kidnapping went so badly wrong. Her desperate publicity agent gets in contact with Inkubus, in the hope this is another stunt by his charge. He then offers Inkubus 20,000 NuYen to hire some shadowrunners than can track her down. Inkubus, not being an idiot when it comes to being paid twice, demands a finder's fee. Inkubus: What's my cut? He may well be hiring all his friends, and sharing the finder's fee as a bonus with us, but we don't need to tell the agent that XD Some time is spent running around gathering clues as to the kidnapping. A good deal of this is the GM's attempt to steer the plot back on track, after we so spectacularly derailed it by taking Euphoria on a sailing trip last session. Labrat experiences the sim-sense recording of the kidnapped actress. GM: You feel the soft silk of her clothes against her skin - Greenlight: "...the shuffling of a too tight G-string..." Labrat: I give the team a full rundown, especially the guy with the T-Shirt that read "Garrity's Bar and Grill" I don't need to be hit over the head with a clue bat to spot one. Labrat: Would the name of the Bar be E.O? GM: No, why? Labrat: That would make it the Barrio. Greenlight: Who the heck is narrating this adventure, Max Payne? The trail leads to a small shop, where somebody appears to have investigating the same case, and was turned into wallpaper for his pains. There is also an extremely skeevy individual hanging around - so skeevy that Greenlight shoots it. Despite shooting it with a mere pistol it splatters all over the alleyway. Greenlight: *stares down at the pistol, then makes Final Fantasy victory theme* This is rather disturbing. As is the clue that points towards the factory out in the Barrens where they're making Ambergel, the new food sensation that Euphoria is supposed in Seattle to promote. One look at the factory in the Astral is more than slightly disturbing, and the group decides that heading in there right away will be a spectacularly bad idea. Inkubus is accused of being "overly excited" Inkubus: I don't want to say anything... Labrat: We don't want you to say anything! Warhammer : Never, ever. The team starts calling in favours, and draining the expense account. For one thing, we need to know all we can about the thing Greenlight shot. And we need more firepower. And as much insecticide as we can get from the every convenience store we can get to. And backup, in case this doesn't work and the factory needs to be wiped off the face of the map. Happily, Warhammer's buddies in the FBI, Lone Star law enforcement, the Knights Errant, and the United Canadian and United States Army actually listen, and one of his friends in the latter pulls up with a semi-trailer-slash-mobile-armoury. We start kitting up - or rather, Greenlight, Warhammer, Titus and Labrat do - Inkubus and Felix intend to offer astral support. Body-armour, combat drugs, portable air supply and Infra-red goggles are a must. Incendiary mines and white phosphorus grenades likewise. Some way to best utilise Titus' size and Warhammer's army experience seems a good idea.. Labrat: Can we get a shoulder-mounted minigun? Armourer: *grins, and pulls out the rack of backpack seat/ammo bin +shoulder-mounted minigun* It's a standard configuration Various: We now have a standard Troll/Dwarf Minigun assembly! But we have to bring back any unexpended munitions - they do belong to the United Canadian and American States Army. Titus: New! Tachikoma strength Raid! Titus: Bomb everything that's on fire! Then keep bombing it until it's on fire again! Greenlight sneaks up onto the roof of the factory, where sentries patrol. At ground level, Titus and the others make their own entrance. Actual architecture notwithstanding. GM: The sentries run to the edge of the roof and look over. Greenlight: Run over and kick! THIS IS SPAAAARRRRTAAAAA! Greenlight: (on the effect of a rotary minigun) - It's damage is I @#$%^%& your mother and I'm coming for you next! Titus: (on discovering the depths of the Insect Hive) - this is DEEP, man! The plan - jam the elevators and flood the ground floor with roach bombs. We don't want any of the insect spirits or their victims getting out past us. The heart of the nest is many floors below ground. Felix: We're lucky we're going in loaded for para-bear, aren't we? Meanwhile, in the Astral, where everything appears in its Ideal Form Inkubus: Skin-tight denim, waist-length hair flowing out behind me, surfing on a guitar, the whole deal. Greenlight: So basically you look like an anime character Inkubus: Yes GM: They're probably alerted. Titus: I just Kool-aided two walls, they know we're here. Inkubus: Because of what I need to do in order to do what I need to do... Fuck that was terrible English. Warhammer: I need some speakers on my minigun belting out Ride of the Valkyries. Greenlight: Hall of the Mountain King might be better. Dun dun dun-dun dun. Labrat and Inkubus: That's A Night on Bald Mountain Greenlight: It is? Labrat: How about the Fourth Movement of Beethoven's Seventh? Greenlight: Ode to Joy? Inkubus: Sure, why not? As well as dozens of Gigeresque monstrosities, and a giant pulsing cocoon, there's a human mage. GM: His name is Craft. Felix: We don't care. ALL : *Hose the room with WP grenades, gunfire, and magic. Warhammer somehow manages to miss everything, despite the minigun.* Felix: ...How? Were you too busy head-banging to Ode to Joy or something? Inkubus: That's the problem - he should have been playing Machine Gunn Eddie Inkubus OoC: Will the conditions down here help my Metal Mage specialities? Greenlight: We're underground and everything is on fire. Felix: Can't get much more metal than this Inkubus manages to banish the Insect Queen's spirit back to what Lovecraftian dimension they come from, but the deathscream is enough to send him bonkers. Warhammer is slightly miffed that the fight seems to over so quickly. Inkubus: I've looked into the Abyss and realised it was looking back. Felix: With big compound eyes. Inkubus: My trousers are full. Felix: Astral trousers? Inkubus: Real trousers. The guy back at the truck is looking down at our bodies and thinking 'he just crapped himself - what the f**k is happening down there'. Warhammer: I can't believe I didn't get to kill anything in this room. Felix: Just use the rest of your incendiary grenades on the way out. Warhammer: Someone else can do that - I'm upset now. GM: Shadowrun is a week of planning, three days of set-up, and ten seconds of utter chaos. Titus: Occasionally followed by running away very quickly. The surviving Insect Spirits are berserk, but so is Inkubus. He summons a major fire spirit. In corporeal form. Inkubus: What the hell, let's kill myself doing this. Greenlight: I think you mean kiln yourself. God of Hellfire: I am the God of Hellfire! And I bring you ... FIRE. Felix: And in the Astral I'm looking at Inkubus with the Platonic Ideal of What The F**k Are You DOING? Inkubus: Kill every f**king bug in this building! GM: It looks at them ... Looks at you.... Looks at them and growls GLADLY Now would be a good time to grab Euphoria and bug out. For one thing the oxygen in the room is rapidly running out, and there's a large number of crazed on-fire Insect Spirits running about. By the time we reach the surface large numbers of the military, Lone Star, and Knights Errant are converging on the inferno. Labrat: We geared up and decided white phosphorus was our friend. Felix: And there's not many circumstances you can say that in. Greenlight: Could you please never summon the God of Hellfire again? Inkubus: I make no promises. Titus: Oh, I don't know, he seemed nice. Felix: As the factory goes up in a pillar of flame behind us. Inkubus: Yeah, we handled it, we're awesome- Felix: A Balrog?! A f**king Balrog!? You summoned a f**king Balrog!? Inkubus: .... *cowers* just the one.... Warhammer: This should do our street cred a lot of good Felix: Well yes, hundreds of military, Lone Star and f**king Knights Errant turn up, with us walking out with a burning factory as a backdrop?!?!? Warhammer: Ah, sorry guys, I didn't actually need your backup, it wasn't as hard as I thought. Felix: *now looking at Warhammer the way I was previously looking at Inkubus* You think that was *easy*!?!? Greenlight: Geez, calm down, how long have you been working the streets, anyway? Inkubus: You met him on his first Run. Inkubus: When we get home we're breaking out the special bottle of Taéngelé Felix: Not until our hands stop shaking. Felix: Ok, I'm only to say this once - form some kind or perimeter. If you see anything coming out of that building that isn't a twenty-foot winged demon of fire, fucking kill it. And if it is a twenty-foot winged demon of fire, get the f**k out of its way. Warhammer is feeling fairly chipper, and when he gets home intends to strip to his underwear and dance. Inkubus: *sings* Take that old record off the shelf Warhammer: Serenade me - it's time to power slide. With a shotgun. It'll look like air guitar. What to do with our very sizeable pay for this nights work (oddly enough nobody seems inclined to chastise us about the property destruction, although some interesting rumours about what we faced are circulating in the Runner bulletin boards.) Inkubus: F*** charity, I'll spend it all on booze and Cheerios Titus: I assume the Cheerios are a local cheer-leading squad? It's a couple of months until our next job offer. Felix: Summer in Seattle. It's raining. Big f**king surprise. GM: Who wants to be called with a job offer? Warhammer: The troll. Titus: Sure. Felix: 'I've got whitefly in my garden, I was told you're good with plants.' Greenlight however, has been given an offer he can't refuse. Somebody claims they have his missing brother at their mercy - interesting news, given Greenlight's entire family were kidnapped by Renraku Corp years ago) and they'll kill him if he doesn't tell them everything we find out about a job we haven't even been offered yet. Apparently it's something biological Aztechnology are working on. They also fit Greenlight with a bug, and they kill his brother if Greenlight talks to anybody about it, or takes it off. Greenlight, of course, quickly finds a way around this. Magical contact telepathy courtesy of Inkubus helps, while we're en route (dressed in our very best suits) to find out about the job in hand. Labrat: It's not a bug, it's a locator Greenlight: Muthaf**ka! Inkubus: Sorry Labrat but I don't feel comfortable touching you for any longer than necessary. Labrat: Do you have a problem with me being an Ork? Inkubus: No, I have a problem with you being damn ugly. Hey, Bubbles! That night three weeks ago, did I have a problem with Orks? Felix: *sigh* No. We're meeting the client at the classiest restaurant in Seattle. Inkubus, as usual, thinks 'Chippendale Dancer' is the height of fashion. Felix: Sigh. I'm assuming they never thought they'd need a 'No Shirt No Service' sign. GM: The elevator deposits you at the very tip of the Seattle Needle. Greenlight: Oh shit. Balance checks! Inkubus: I hope you don't mind us eating, but it conceals the fact we're having a business meeting. Warhammer: Plus we're hungry. The client wants us to break into Aztechnology's research park, via the sewers, steal all the data pertaining to a particular project, and rendezvous at the docks. He's slightly concerned that whoever was blackmailing Greenlight already knows about the run. Felix is concerned because half his family work for Aztech, but keeps schtuum until we're somewhere secure. Felix: I used to work for Aztech. My grandfather still does. Greenlight: We guessed. Labrat: A third of the country works for Aztech, one way or the other. Felix: But they're not all mid-level execs. Greenlight: We know. Felix: How did you know I was from Aztlan, with a surname like Bethke? Inkubus: You don't have your Seattle tan yet, dude. It's a risky run - not least because it involves one of the major megacorps. Someway to block the sewers during our retreat is probably a must. Felix: Maybe some sort of canister that expands into quickset foam? Inkubus: That stuff only works in the movies. And so off to plan.

A plague doctor mask to cover her muzzle, various accoutrements from the ship, that long-dead inquisitor's Rosette, a certain amount of bluff, and the confidence of knowing that nobody in their right mind would impersonate an inquisitor

The plan! Serve the designs of Chaos by going to an Imperial shrine world, infiltrating a convent, seducing a few of the nuns to Evil, and leaving them to spread the infection across the sector. This should do our reputations a lot of good - some of the Chaos Gods are impressed by that sort of audacity, at least when it works. Jrska: With my Dark Soul I've already got two levels of Fear vs. the Ecclesiarchy. And since we're going in disguised as the Inquistion, they're right to be scared either way. Such a plot also gives the GM a chance to dig out the Dark Heresy book that covers faith-based characters. Pious Arsehole: I am a paragon of light! .... Where did this sword through my chest come from? Jrska: Pity you weren't a paragon of dodge GM: You're going to the Shrine World of Voluptua Jrska: *giggle* Cassius: Voluptua?! Really? We don't even need to change the name! GM: Nestled between... All: LOL Cog: Please, tell us exactly what it's nestled between GM: The omens are favourable, my lord Jrska: Good little heretek *pats his head* Cog: I swear I'll weld her door shut. Cassius: You want to lock her in with all her toys? Jrska: Cog, I've burnt out the motor in this one again, can you fix it? Rather like warfare, space travel in the 40k setting is periods of boredom punctuated by terror. The terror comes while travelling through the Warp. Sub-light travel once we're back in real space and joining the queue of pilgrimage ships, Battle-nun transports, and hospital ships, is more than boring enough. Aladar: I'm glad we live so long, these delays are terrible. Cog: Lord Cassius is going to live forever, we'll die of old age. Jrska: Speak for yourself, I'm going to be a demon princess *poses in imaginary Disney Princess dress* One oddity about the branch of the Imperial cult on Voluptua is the way they downplay the actual identity of the saint they venerate. Not unheard of, but intriguing. It might be related to the minor export they have of psycho-reactive minerals. Perhaps the nameless saint was a psyker themselves? Not something they'd want to advertise. We decide a low-key entry is best. Loudly proclaiming our 'Inquisitorial' status will attract too much attention. A covert insertion past all those paranoid starships too risky. So we simply announce our arrival and let them worry for themselves. Jrska: This is the Inquistorial ship 'Chains of Judgement'. Make ready a berth. Any delay will be noted. Jrska convinces her master that it will be more believable if she pretends to be the one in charge - Cassius cautiously agrees, but assures her of his swift retribution if she fucks up. Since Cassius and Jrska are slightly more difficult to disguise, we'll send Aladar and Cog ahead to arrange landing permission and transport. Jrska: The most important part of a disguise is to distract the observer from the actually distinguishing features. May I suggest the Spanish Galleon? *holds up giant black codpiece* Cassius: Well, nobody will be looking at his face... Jrska: Exactly. True, neither Cog nor Aladar are quite as skilled in lying as Jrska, but we do have micro-bead comlinks. Aladar: Jrska can coach you over the micro-bead. Her tongue is in your ear. Jrska: blalalalalalah. Aladar: I don't think I could handle a minion Jrska: We know. We don't trust you to be responsible for anybody. Even yourself. The cleric that greets us asks us not to bring any heavy weapons down into the shrine-cities, despite his cautious welcome. Customs-Priest: We don't desire damage to our shrines and temples. Jrska: Heritage listed buildings... Aladar: We will of course require our personal arms. Jrska: Nothing rated for urban renewal. Aladar is bringing a lascannon anyway. He justifies this on the grounds it's fitted with suspensions, so isn't heavy at all. The suspicion from the Sisters of Battle that escort Cog and Aladar around the spacedock is heavy, however. They ask a few questions about our purpose here, and Cassius' suggested imperial proverbs aren't dissuading them. Jrska: The Emperor favours the closed mind. Cassius: Blessed is the mind too small for doubt. Aladar: There is a person in the tower with information we require. Jrska: Why not tell them the truth? We have information that agents of the enemy intend to infiltrate the tower. Aladar completely botches his explanations. Possibly it's the giant codpiece, or the way he forgot to come up with a fake name. Jrska: Why do we keep sending him on mission-critical tasks? Cassius: *headdesk* I. Don't. Know. Happily, he manages to recover. However, it doesn't bode well. And the Sister's distinctly alarmed reaction when we mention the Tower of Silence - the convent where Sisters go after a crisis of faith - is very odd. Perhaps there's already something going on they don't want the Inquisition knowing about? Cassius: 'To question is to doubt' Jrska: 'We could tell you, but then we'd have to kill you.' The escorts asks for time to prepare. Perhaps they can bring the person we want to meet to meet us, rather than disturb the convent? Jrska: It does not suit our purposes to give them any time to prepare. They reluctantly agree, but instead use the time to organise a company of Battle-nuns to amass near the convent. Just in case there HAS been corruption, and we need back-up. Although they insist it is unlikely any infiltration of the convent has taken place. Sister of Battle: The sisters come into contact with each other, but not outside the convent. Cassius: The convent of the Blended Petals Jrska: The Sisters of Perpetual Indulgence. Sister of Battle: They interact- All : LOL Jrska: I want to film this entire mission. We'll have a home movie that would make Ken Russell green with envy. We start hitting problems immediately - the sheer piety of the locals is grating intensely on our nerves. Judging by the way we have to keep spending Infamy points to reroll willpower checks, we're finding it very difficult to not just run amok through the crowd, like wolves among sheeple. Jrska: It's not that I hate the Ecclesiarchy - hate is too Khornate. But I do consider them with withering contempt. They're so rabidly anti-fun. Local Shuttle Pilot : kumbaya, my lord, kumbaya.... Jrska: I'll give him a kumbaya.... Jrska: It's the stench of incense and unwashed pilgrims. Even Cassius is having difficulty in not lashing out. Jrska: Obviously the way i'm pretending to be in charge is rubbing you the wrong way. GM: Some of the more annoying street-preachers are going to be found dead in alleys later, but you manage to refrain from killing them right there in front of the crowd. Jrska: I've only been here ten minutes and I'm already in serious need of relaxation. Cog: You're pent up Once we're out of town ( overtaking the convoy of Sisters who 'just happen' to be going out for training near the convent ) we can relax and decide which of the Ruinous Powers to dedicate the mission to. Jrska: Dedicating this compact to Slaanesh will help us fit the tongue to the ear. *long, slow, lick of her muzzle.* Goals of the compact include taking some of the sisters with us when we go - Jrska has another. Seducing one of the nuns and leaving her behind when we go. Mostly because it'll be an amusing challenge. The Tower of Silence is a very typical fortress-nunnery. The psychic aura around the plateau is more unusual. Jrska: So they've built the nunnery on top of an outcropping of psychically active rock? Gee, that was bright. We're tracked by heavy bolter emplacements as we march up to the door. Evidently they take their vows of seclusion seriously. Aladar: I wonder if those are manned. Jrska and Aladar's: Womanned. Aladar: Sorry, I didn't know we were being politically correct today. Jrska bluffs the group inside. Jrska: We are here on the business of the Inquistion. ( Which is true, since the business of the Inquisition is heresy ) Jrska: We have become aware that agents of Chaos have, or are going to, infiltrate your convent. We are here to determine whether or not this is true. The Celestan in charge of the convent is mostly convinced, but remains suspicious of Aladar and his Spanish Galleon. Jrska: Excuse his appearance and behaviour. We find it useful to present a distraction from the actual investigation at times. Think of him as a useful idiot. Aladar: I grin and bear it. Jrska OoC: And the rest of us are thinking he's not even useful. Cassius intends to stay silent, hulking, and generically threatening throughout our stay at the convent. As long as he keeps the robes on, the Sisters can speculate and worry all they like. Is he some kind of servitor? An Arcoflagellant just waiting for the command word to curbstomp everything in sight? Or even a bound daemonhost, locked in a warded exoskeleton to keep it under control? Either way, he can keep passing on telepathic orders to the rest of us. It's not like Jrska has much practise at resisting stray thoughts. Jrska: My brain is as wide open as my legs. The Celestan wants to know more details about the rumours that brought us here. We fob her off with ambiguous platitudes. The news that the convent hasn't had a new inmate in 20 years does put a slight crimp in our plans, but we remain confident. Jrska effortlessly passes Cog off as a tech-priest here to review the security systems. ALL the security systems. Cassius: Those who keep silent can hear. GM: What does that even mean??? Cassius: Whatever we want it too. Aladar: I'll follow Cog Cog: If you help me in any way I will drop you off a balcony. Cassius: 'The seeds have been planted, and now they have come to harvest.' Jrska takes a particular pleasure in close examination of the Sisters escorting us, because her Dark Soul is putting them all on edge. They even quietly converse with the Celestan about it. Battle-nuns: 'She's really scary, miss!' Jrska: You seem uncomfortable. Guilty conscience, perhaps? Jrska: Battle-nuns are expected to operate under there own resources for extended periods. Basically, sisters are doing it for themselves. Cassius, Cog, GM: ...*headdesk* GM: The security room probably has a tech-priest. Going with the theme, it's most likely a woman - tech-priests aren't fussed by that sort of thing. Jrska: Tech-priestesses have Etheric Beam Locators. Cog: What does she look like? Aladar: She's hot. Jrska: What does your phrenological assessment of her tell you - 'hmm, good Bump of Technological Innovation there'? GM: Cog is getting flustered trying to talk to the tech-priestess. Jrska: It's those double D Etheric Beam Locators. Cog eventually finds his tongue, and overcomes the tech-priests suspicions by berating her about her maintenance schedules and the way mysterious flickers and rolling security blackouts plague the nunnery. As she flusters, Aladar goes to check the video bank, and prod a few buttons, despite the battle-nun escort. Aladar: Done any worse and I'd have accidentally switched on the porn channel. Jrska: AKA the recreation room camera Cog: All that volleyball team Cassius: *Headdesk.* I'm used to this sort of thing from these two, but it's disconcerting from you. Cog's player: I'm sorry, I haven't been sleeping well. The Sister wants to know why Aladar was checking the video feeds. Aladar: I'm his assistant. Jrska: That doesn't reflect well on Cog. GM: It's hard to tell through the helmet but she seems to be raising an eyebrow. Cog: Sometimes I need an idiot to test live power-cables. Aladar: Why am I the butt-monkey? Jrska: Because you are. Jrska: I'm worried that army of battle-nuns is outside to stop us getting away if we DO find corruption. Kill us to protect the Sisters' reputation. 'The convent mysteriously blew up. What Acolytes?' At least the inspection is given us a good understanding of the layout, defences, equipment and possible escape routes - exactly as Jrska planned. The fact that all the nuns, not only our escorts, are kept fully trained with bolt guns to hand and ammo under construction even as we pass by is somewhat worrisome. But we do learn the armoury is stocked with anti-demon rounds. Valuable, if damned souls like ourselves could even handle them without third-degree burns. GM: No, there's no Pentient Engine here. Cassius: Pentient or Penitent? GM: Penitent. Jrska: 'Penitent Inside' Aladar actually manages to resist Cassius' telepathic SMS. Cassius: You actually succeed the one time we want you to fail? You fail at failing! Jrska: You're surprised you couldn't get your thoughts into his head? Why? Nothing else sinks in. Cog: He's so thick nothing gets through. Meanwhile, Jrska is off questioning the youngest inductee to the convent. She's been here 20 years, ever since she survived a demonic incursion that killed all her battle-sisters. Sister Joanna flinches and avoid looking at us, Cassius looms, Jrska asks probing questions, and our escort visibly twitch when she brings up the matter of dreams. Clearly *something* is up at the Tower of Silence. Joanna is also alarmingly perceptive - she immediately picks Cassius as a psyker, but fortunately Jrska has already ordered the escort from the room before Joanna drops her other bombshell. Sister Joanna: I don't understand... Why are a mutant and a psyker of the Angels of Death here to see me? Evidently the situation at the convent is not quite as we believed - it's not just the religiously doubting that come here in retreat. This is where the sisters send the ones that actually go nuts. And keeps them fully armed. On top of a mountain of psychic-reactive crystal. Jrska OoC: 'I've got a good idea - Let's house these nuclear terrorists in a uranium mine!'

Oh, and one reason a crossover is possible? Currently, both campaigns are in the same region of space - the Spinward Fringe of the Calixis Sector, where the Imperium is attempted to squash a rebellion by the planets of the Severian Dominate. It's entirely likely the two groups will cross paths.

Fantasy Flight have 5 RPGs set in the 40K universe - Dark Heresy (human-level agents of the Inquisition), Rogue Trader (officers of an Imperial starship with incredible freedom out beyond the Imperium), Deathwatch (elite space marines doing work for the Inquisition), Black Crusade (Chaos marines, traitors, and mutants doing heir best to overthrow the Imperium) and now Only War (congratulations, soldier - you get to lay down your life for the Emperor). With a little effort, they can cross over, despite the different power levels. I'm currently playing in Black Crusade as Jrska, and Only War as Hal. I GMed Rogue Trader for some time, played a strange Dark Heresy game where we were prisoners of the Tau, and taken turns GMing and playing in Deathwatch.

Actually, it's almost doable - with the exception of myself, it's entirely different players and GM. And I'm playing Hal Cornelisz. So this Only War crossing over with Black Crusade is almost doable. The only problem is that Black Crusade characters wouldn't even consider Only War characters a speed bump - it's a wildly different experience scale.

Started another one of Fantasy Flight's Warhammer 40K RPGs - Only War, in which the PCs are all members of the Imperial Guard. So we're wildly outclassed by anything else in the setting, which should be interesting. What our characters don't know is that we're actually playing Dark Heresy, and some Inquisitor is intending to use us as investigators. Or more likely, is testing hundreds of squads and seeing if any of us survive. PCs - Hal Cornelisz, weapon specialist Roland the Rat, weapon specialist Vin, ditto Sister Dominque, Sister of Battle attached to the squad as medic and faith support NPC Troopers Remy, Veche van der Beeck, Vyn Other NPCs Commissar Betyljuce, Sgt. Gerda 'Lucky' Vong, Col. Marikoff Only War has a couple of interesting mechanics - the comrade system, where most of the characters come with a NPC to provide covering fire, hold gaping wounds shut while the medic fetches the staple gun, and act as expendable meat-shields whenever we get curbstomped, which will probably be most of the time. The other mechanic is Regiment Creation, where the GM and players hammer out what kind of unit you're all actually from. It's important to do that before anything else, since a unit of highborn paratroopers will need very different characters and very different missions to an artillery company that has to scavenge every shell and is actively despised by the other regiments. Thus, our characters hail from the 71st VDPH, or Van Diemen's Phantoms, a penal legion that specialises in guerrilla warfare and reconnaissance, and whose homeworld is such an atrocious hellhole that getting into the Imperial Guard meatgrinder is actually a step up. Plus, if we manage to survive the campaign we don't have to go back to Van Diemen's World. The random personality table is amusing, as well. My character, Hal Cornelisz, is loyal to his squad mates and will follow them into hell if he has to. Which is unfortunate, since Roland the Rat has a Deathwish. Anyway, we're en route to the front, in the cargo chamber that the starship is using for a mess-hall, eating our gruel and gambling, when the other regiment being transported turns up for their turn, an hour early. This is bad, because they're from the Mordian Iron Guard. This picture tells you everything you need to know about the Iron Guard. So the situation is tense, to say the least, when the other regiment marches in, in their immaculate uniforms and perfect marching formation, to collect their own bowls of gruel and take their places on the benches. Naturally, some idiot starts a riot. We, on the other hand, are already crawling under the tables for the nearest exit. After all, if we can get back to the barracks in time we can deny any involvement. Hal Cornelisz OoC: Well, I'll back you up, because I'm stupid that way. The next hour or so is spent walking around the maze of corridors looking innocent and helpfully stepping aside for the riot squads, crawling through the Jeffries Tubes when the rubber bullets start flying, and getting back to the Barracks just in time to meet the Commissar. Happily, he seems to assume we aren't actually involved in the débâcle, but he *does* immediately order us to locate and shoot the duty officer that arranged the mess roster. This is extremely alarming, because it's evidence that our Commissar is a nut. We tactfully point out that as mere guardsmen we have no authority for summary execution, but we'll be happy to bring him back so the Commissar can do it. That's his job, after all. The Duty Officer is located and dragged back, while the Commissar is standing on the furniture and frothing passages from the Imperial Guardsman's Inspirational Primer, and every Phantom involved in the riot is flogged. Happily for the Duty Officer, the battlegroup commander and the ship's captain have arrived by this point and the Commissar is taken off for a long private argument about jurisdiction. The commander is a melancholic figure, but given he has to somehow use the Iron Guard and the Phantoms us a cohesive military force, and his political officer is a violent lunatic, that's hardly surprising. The next few weeks are spent in various punishment details - cleaning the decks with our tongues, that sort of thing - as Commissar Betyljuce does his best to instil some sort of discipline in the Phantoms. He approves of assigning Sister Dominique of the Order Hospitaller to the regiment as well, presumably hoping her piety will set a good example. Dominique, like all Sisters of Battle, is big on displays of faith, such as mortification of the flesh, and of her own recognisance is sharing our meals in the barracks. Hal Cornelisz: These rations probably count as mortification of the flesh. GM: Especially when they're coming out the other end. The battle nun/combat medic is quite safe from untoward advances - even Roland isn't that suicidal - and besides the Phantoms are a mixed regiment. Vin's off-sider Vyn, for example, who has taken it upon herself to improve the regiment's meals. GM: First she catches some hull rats, boils them for an hour, slowly add Standard Ration A and corpse starch, then filters out the rat. Hal Cornelisz: Rat stock. They say - but not anywhere the Inquisition can hear them - that travel broadens the mind. Certainly the crew of the ship have odd accents and customs, which the squad are studiously ignoring. GM: See the natives. Hal Cornelisz: We do not want to see the natives of the Warp. Although there is a certain amount of excitement en route. Various klaxons sound, the regiment is ordered to suit up, and after a while are lined up for inspection by the officers. Vin: It's not standing to attention, it's a Mexican Wave of attention. Standing upright when the officers walk past, and slouching again after they've gone past. Hal Cornelisz: Travel the Imperium! See interesting places! Meet interesting people - and kill them. GM: Well yes, this is the Imperial Guard. It's a great job. You either buy the farm or get one. Just hope you aren't sent to a desert world. That would suck. Apparently the ship has encountered an anomaly en route and we've been volunteered to investigate. There's a cloud of starships and wreckage out there, and guess which poor bastards are been sent across to scout? One bright note - some of the Mordians are being sent across as well, so we can compete to bring back the best intel. Roland the Rat: I saw something move! BZAP! GM: That was the Mordians. This is where another Only War mechanic kicks in. Requisitioning gear. The Administratum is so huge and monolithic that screw-ups happen with appalling frequency - artillery regiments being sent the wrong size of shell, or entire planets dedicated to making the wrong size of shell, which then get shipped off to another planet to be broken down, because they're the wrong size of shell. It's all to easy to not get the equipment you actually need for a mission. Hal Cornelisz: We hope they give us void suits - they might give us re-breathers and a cork. Vin: We're a penal legion - we get whatever we can beg, borrow and steal. Hal Cornelisz: Can we at least get some lube with those corks? And indeed, our first attempt is a miserable failure. Hal Cornelisz: Ow. Corks it is then. Lucky for us we have Sister Dominique along to put the fear of the Emperor into the quartermaster. Sister Dominique: The Emperor Protects and Provides! And, indeed, sometimes the SNAFUs work in our favour, and a squad might end up with something they didn't actually request but could be useful. In this case, the ration case turns out to contain an officer-class banquet. Hal Cornelisz: I think we got the wrong packed lunch. Sister Dominque: I get mag-boots. GM: What size heels do you want? As it happens, the naval officer in charge of the shuttle is the Duty Officer we nearly had executed. He is naturally somewhat aggrieved towards us, and does nothing to make the trip more comfortable. But we do manage to get him and the other fly-boys on side by sharing that packed lunch. Hal Cornelisz: The in-flight movie is Yentl. Duty Officer: We'll be arriving in - what the Hells is that? Hal Cornelisz: Standard rations, apparently. *breaking out the amasec and goblets* Want some? And what is 'pate de fois gras'? Sgt. Gerda 'Lucky' Vong: Check you weapons and your bollocks. Roland the Rat: Done. Hal Cornelisz: Tricky for Vyn to check her bollocks. Vin: She checks mine. Hal Cornelisz: All the guardsman agree Sgt. Vong has enormous bollocks. Vin: Brass ones. Hal Cornelisz: You can barely hear the orders for all the clanging. Vin: I don't like the look of this Roland the Rat: We're guardsmen - nothing ever looks good Hal Cornelisz: We're scouts, and damn good scouts! Or do any of you honestly think those Mordians are better then us? All: *Dead silence* Hal Cornelisz: That wasn't the response I was hoping for, boys. Hal Cornelisz: How about we just blow the airlock open and just catch everything that blows past? Sgt. Gerda 'Lucky' Vong: Let's not open anything until we know what's on the other side, trooper. Hal Cornelisz: Just trying to keep morale up, Sergeant. Sister Dominque: The Emperor guides my hand. Roland the Rat OoC: That sounds so wrong. Sister Dominque OoC: It's hard to give up sexual innuendo. Really, really hard. Vin OoC: That's what she said. Hal Cornelisz: Did anyone remember to requisition voidsuit patches? The apparently human-made but non-Imperial wreck is rather bare, at least in the crew section. We do find a teddy-bear in one of the crew quarters though. Hal Cornelisz: It's some alien fetish. Obviously heretical. Hal Cornelisz: Crew quarters with a level of austerity that would impress even your Mother Superior, Sister. At this point I was getting so tired I had to go home - I'll find out what happened next next month, since it'll be a monthly game.

Downtime between jobs - for one thing we have to get Inkubus' lung cloned and replaced, after that Ancient Horror stabbed him through the chest with one of its pointier appendages. Felix: Look on the bright side - you'll be able to quit smoking while your new lung is healing up. Inkubus: That there is crazy talk. Titus: He's still got one good one. There is a minor glitch during recovery - a seizure provoked by an abreaction to the medication, but the surgeon assures us their will be no ongoing consequences. Felix: No need to warm up the malpractice lawyers then. Felix: You'll probably want him out of here unless you want him to harass the nurses. More. Too late. By the third day he's somehow talked five of the nurses into bed, at once. At least the pay-off from the Elementals job (before they sent the vampire after us) is enough to pay all the medical bills AND give us a very tidy profit on top. Time to go shopping. Warhammer: I need to get some C12 explosive. Felix: We can't get you any C12, but we can get you half a six-pack of C4. Greenlight's: It's urban camouflage. Felix: What, neon and chrome? And since we're all Adepts or Mages (even though we do nothing to advertise the fact) we may as well take advantage of the fact and set ourselves up as an Initiate circle. Much argument ensues, even about the circle's name. Felix: We can always confuse people and call ourselves the Bastards of Carnage. Inkubus: That's the thing - the name only has to have meaning for us. We could call ourselves the Happy Pink Flufflepuffs. Felix: *wince* I'm having enough problems with the way you keep calling me Bubbles. Labrat: The Five Metas? Felix: Ziggy Stardust and the Spiders from Mars. We'll have to meet regularly - doing so assists each other's efforts at improving themselves. Felix: And is an excuse for a good meal. Plus, if we're going to be working together we need to improve team spirit. Felix: Movie Night! Inkubus: We don't accept legitimate mages, this group is for Shadowrunners. Felix: :/ We don't accept 'legitimate' mages? Inkubus: We treat others with professionalism and courtesy. Warhammer: I have a problem with courtesy. Greenlight: We ARE criminals. Warhammer wonders how much head armour he can wear on the street without attracting untoward attention. Felix: You could always get a bulletproof touk and pretend to be Canadian. Inkubus: *facepalm* We decide on a name for the circle. Inkubus: The Set-Up. 'A Human, an Orc, a Troll, an Elf and a Dwarf walk into a bar' Greenlight: I keep forgetting you're human, Bubbles. But then I don't really think of Aztlans as human. Felix: *bristles* But he doesn't say anything. After his various comments about not being able to tell trolls apart, he probably deserves that commentary of his family's origin on the far side of the Rio Grande. Anyway, all healed up, Inkubus wants to make sure he's still the uber-stud he was before, and now he's got a few more tricks up his sleeves to really impress the ladies. Felix: I don't think the purpose of our Initiatory Circle was so you can Get More. Inkubus: None of you lot are girls. And it's during the aftermath of such an evening that Inkubus gets a call. Crawling out from under the pile of willing wenches, he discovers it's his Fixer on the videophone. Apparently another entertainment-related job has come up, and word has got around about how well the team handled the Elementals affair. Presumably the word of what happened AFTER we got paid hasn't. Either way, the Fixer is a bit distracted by the scene behind Inkubus. Apparently the client asked for Inkubus, because his insider knowledge of the Seattle entertainment industry will be useful. Fixer: 'Interesting piercing' Felix: Well, it is the Seattle music scene... I wonder if there are any Grunge Mages out there. Inkubus texts everybody with instructions for the meet with the client. Bound spirits and Felix will watch over the meet-up, just in case it's a Admiral Ackbar. This might seem suspicious, but we DID murder a music exec last month. Inkubus: Keep weapons light. Warhammer: I'll leave the rocket-launcher at home Inkubus is reluctant to leave the sweaty pile on the bed too soon. Inkubus: I'm still celebrating. Warhammer: Need back-up? Titus: Shadowrunning isn't a hobby, it's a profession. Inkubus: Except for Bubbles. Felix: Hey! Either way, the client wants to sabotage the promotion of some new junkfood, called Ambergel. The plan is to meet the simsense star Euphoria who is in Seattle as part of the promotion, and keep her so busy with clubs, parties, etc that she misses all her appointments for the next three days. The client has even arranged a house we can use to keep her on ice. Client: She has reasonable security on her hotel room. Greenlight: Reasonable compared to what? Felix: We remember the crocodile. The client leaves, and we promptly start brainstorming ideas to get her out of the hotel and off to somewhere we can keep her busy. Perhaps take her up to a nice cabin outside town? Felix: I'm thinking an anaesthetic aerosol spray and a remote control hang-glider. Felix: If we want to make sure she doesn't just sneak out a window, how about we hire a boat and go on a scenic tour of the Pacific Trash Vortex? Felix OoC: I'm sure the biggest problem with the boat idea is that it'll screw the plot. GM: The cabin idea will screw the plot. Inkubus OoC: Let's hope it doesn't work then. Inkubus does feel a little uncomfortable about using his seductive talents in a professional basis again.But he has to admit that it IS a good way to approach the problem, just like it had worked with the Elementals last month. Inkubus OoC: It's not that I see everything as a nail, it's the game - it keeps giving me nail-shaped objects to hammer. Inkubus: I'm starting to feel like a prostitute. Felix: *sings* Gigalo, Gigalo, Gigalo! Felix: If you're feeling uncomfortable, imagine how the rest of us feel being your team of wingmen. We do, in fact, go with Felix's boat idea. Euphoria's bodyguards don't care either way, since they get a free boat ride out of it too and we haven't actually threatened Euphoria. Labrat poses as the hired motor yacht's skipper, Felix will be the ship's cook, and the other members of the team are all aboard in one guise or another, as Inkubus' 'employees'. We do get a phonecall on the second evening, however, asking well the hell we are - nobody has showed up to the client's safehouse yet. We tell him we haven't needed it, since the clubbing and boating plan is working so well. We may or may not learn later that by coming up with this scheme, we have completely borked a major magical conspiracy, and they're scrambling to adapt to the changed situation. The change they arrive at is to fly out to our yacht in a helicopter, disable us with a bazooka, sic a notorious international Mage assassin on us, and kidnap Euphoria. The conspiracy has no idea what they're letting themselves in for. Felix is too busy preparing the breakfast trays to notice the attack until it's well under way, nonetheless. Felix: What's going on? Greenlight: Look up! Assorted firearms: Bang! Bang! Felix: No, the cantaloupe! (Weldun, Inkubus' player, has been toying with a large transforming Millennium Falcon toy why all this has been going on - he strikes a problem. Weldun: How do I detach Chewie from Han? Because right now Han's head is up Chewie's arse.) A rocket propelled grapnel is fired into the yacht and a figure is sliding down towards us, even as the helicopter and bazooka operator behind him are being hit with an assortment of amusing hexes ('hooray for auto-pilot' they would say, if they were going to live more than a few minutes). The figure plummets as the line is severed, then comes to a halt in mid-air. Felix: ... Inkubus: ... Greenlight: Fuck that noise! Still, the attackers clearly weren't expecting the hail of magic, rifle fire, etc that they got as a welcome gift. Neither were Euphoria and her bodyguards, who were somewhat alarmed when everybody started pulling assault rifles out from lockers, or fire arcane energies, and bringing a helicopter and a flying man down, all in twelve seconds. Felix suggests we throw the sinking helicopter a life jacket, so we can honestly say we offered SOME assistance when the Harbour Authority arrives to investigate Felix: I didn't say rescue them, just throw them a life-jacket. Greenlight: ONE life-jacket. Inkubus:They'll have to get real friendly-like. Let me get my camera. Greenlight: I shot that guy in the face GM: Wilhelm scream, splash At least having all those firearms stashed away makes sense. Even without the risk of pirates, there's paracritters to worry about. Titus: These things have cleared cargo ships of people. Inkubus attempts explanations to the pretty but somewhat clueless Euphoria. Inkubus: I'm a Mage. So? Felix: The cook is a Mage. Greenlight: You keep a highly competent crew Inkubus: Not every Mage goes into security work Inkubus: He's a Mage butler - it's the new fashion in England. *whispers to Felix* I'll make it up to you. Still, the payout is generous. We gleefully count our credit go home, and continue our more ordinary lives. We don't know it yet, but rumours about us are already spreading in the Shadowrunner community. That mage we shot out of the sky was bad news, and we still managed to take him down legally, AND offer 'assistance' to a helicopter in trouble afterwards. Inkubus: NuYen, not Karma. I did not just earn 23,000 Karma. GM: You just Ascended. Greenlight: And then you had sex with the dragons. Labrat: All of them. All: At once. Felix: Tell Greenlight and Titus to bring eggs. Warhammer: I'll bring two, but they're mine. Inkubus: We're going to get a reputation. How do you keep doing this shit without breaking the law. Titus: Well we did start that gang war. Greenlight: And no-one can prove it Of course, if we ever do have to flee town we have a limited number of options (purely because there's only a few places the publishers have expanded enough for a comprehensive campaign). Best to stick with non-lethal weapons for the time being. GM: It's either here or Berlin. Warhammer: Berlin? That's good, I like Russian. Labrat: German. Inkubus: ... Russian?!? Titus: What would a gel-round for a shotgun be? Inkubus: Bean-bag round. Felix: Picture it - SPLAT! Right in the face. Titus: I'm picturing gel miniguns, now. 20 seconds firing and it looks like a mad paintgun battle

Spoken like a true initiate of Slaanesh - stick around, I'm sure there's a lot Jrska would just love to show you

Shadowrun : Total Eclipse Pt 3 Another session I missed, which was inconvenient to put it mildly, since our team of mages and adepts-for-hire were off to thwart a major summoning, and Felix was just as inclined towards revenge against the backstabbing music exec Eclipse as the rest of the team. As we'd expected (pessimism is a wonderful thing) the exec in question had defenses, and one of those defenses was his associate Lupus, who was indeed a werewolf. The other was his elven bodyguard, who did his best to prove that a bow and arrow can make short work of a bullet-proof jacket. Happily, Greenlight's panicked running around in the bushes made him a difficult target. Titus: Combat senses! AKA supernatural paranoia! Also, the team makes the happy discovery that heavy metals - specifically, lead - inhibit werewolf regeneration, especially applied in sufficient quantity after the aforementioned werewolf has been drop-kicked into a tree by the team's troll leg-breaker/accountant. Titus: Is it prone? Greenlight: After punting a wolf into a tree, one presumes it doesn't find gravity to its liking. Inkubus is what will be called a 'Metal Mage' in later years - metal as in the musical genre. Indeed, it was his connection to Seattle's music scene that got us the original job. Thus, when he summons an air elemental to assist with the team's stealth ... Greenlight: Spirit of Air Guitar? Unfortunately, the band that Eclipse is using as part of the ritual to summon the demon Twilight have already started playing. GM: A low-flying flog sweeps in - Titus: Oh my. Labrat: Sounds kinky. GM: Low-lying fog!!! Eclipse already has the band under mental compulsion to keep playing, and throws a force-done over them to prevent us simply stunning or shooting them. Happily, the dome doesn't stop the team going after Eclipse himself. Our sniper Warhammer is still rather irked about the werewolf, and the vampire earlier. Warhammer: I WILL snipe you, bitch! Even if it takes every bullet I have! Greenlight: But your Edge! Warhammer: Fuck that! Daddy needs to live! The Spirit of Air Guitar's assistance does prove helpful - the film crew and security ostensibly there for the music video don't see a thing even as Labrat lobs concussion grenades in their direction. And the force dome is not proof against a maximised Orgy spell. GM: *facepalm* Greenlight: Penetrating on many levels. The bandmembers start gyrating in all the wrong ways, and sound like a garage band on amateur night. Unfortunately, it's still enough to at least partially invoke the spider demon Twilight, who resembles nothing more that Captain N's Mother Brain pasted onto a spider's body. With a Mohawk haircut, because 80's. Still, could be worse. It's also pretty much immune to anything the team are packing, so it's just as well they're still effectively invisible. But it would have been handy, to say the least, if the team's spirit-binding expert - Felix 'Bubbles' Bethke - was actually present. Titus attacks! And his sledgehammer bounces off the thing like a squeaky toy. GM: This is why I wanted Drhoz here tonight. Greenlight frantically tries to lure it away from the various unconscious bandmembers and other snack food, while Inkubus tries to learn its True Name so he can sic the Spirit of Metal on it. Titus: Astral cockpunch! Labrat, the team's rigger, has been feeling a little left out of all this hand-to-claw combat and magical shenanigans, and decides to apply his own speciality - ramming the team's SUV into it at high speed. That Titus is currently trying to get the unholy spider demon into a headlock is unfortunate, but the troll will probably survive being run over. Labrat: I hate spiders. Hold on, I'm getting the shoe. Inkubus: Well, the SUV is vaguely shoe-shaped... It's unfortunate that Inkubus and Warhammer are both still in the vehicle when Labrat squashes Twilight between the bull-bar and one of the filmcrew's trucks. Titus gets out of the way. Inkubus' torso doesn't, and one of his lungs becomes intimately familiar with a very pointy outflung limb. After Twilight evaporates back to whatever magical dimension it came from, Warhammer manages to patch up the gaping puncture with Medi-gel. Warhammer: And now you're a Twinkie. Thus the band are rescued, nobody likeable or nominally an 'innocent bystander' died, and the team goes home with everything that isn't nailed down, and Eclipse's unconscious elven bodyguard, who they strip naked and release back into the wild in Seattle's red light district. Elf: Why is there a tag in my ear?

Not so much, actually - sure, she's certain she's the hottest thing in whatever room she's in, and her pheremone emitters would test the celibacy of a statue, but the Beguiling Gem hypnotises the onlooker. Male Gaze = frozen in place while Jrska blows your nuts off with an inferno pistol, or whatever else amuses her at the time. Most. Badass. Teacher. Imaginable. Yup Indeed

Well, given we've lost both the Khornate player (which is a shame, since Jrska was planning on seducing him to Slaanesh) and the allegedly renegade Millennial Warden character, I'd say we had slots free. Unfortunately we all live in Perth, Western Australia, and it's the most isolated city on Earth, that makes for a long commute.

Missed a session of Black Crusade, so Jrska's input in the first part of this report is limited. No doubt she was taking advantage of the post-battle chaos in the Ragged Helix to acquire various shineys no longer needed by their previous owners. Such as a Beguiling Gem, which worn as a necklace will give her weaponised cleavage. Aladar's player, prior to roll: *Muttered sentence* Cassius' player: what? Laxatives what? Aladar's player: blacks are tens To reduce the odds that the Warp entity acts up at a most inauspicious moment, Cassius feeds his staff-bound demon a soul. Cassius: Now don't say I don't get you anything. Cassius decides that now is the time to hunt down that alien psychic beacon and attendant pre-Horus Heresy Ultramarines, somewhere Spinward of what is now the Calixis Sector. Although there's no need to rush - instigating trouble en route will hone our skills. Describing warp travel, en route - Cassius: They've gone to Plaid. Returning to the Thirteenth Station, and after donning the guise of a Chaos warship and paying a toll of human souls to the blockade fleet, the Chains of Judgement encounters the 'asteroid belt' of human sacrifices floating in space. GM: You'll need a cleaning crew after this. Aladar OOC: *Makes Windscreen wiper swishes and squeeky noises* Cassius OOC: Nah, we'll just use the Sunsear laser batteries. Having used the warp currents of the Thirteenth Station to fling us off into the Imperium, the first thing to do is switch the chameleonic hull back to Imperial allegiance. Cog OOC: First thing we do is change the desktop Cassius OOC:Back to Windows classic, none of this heretical Windows 8 S!@# And once in the Imperium, our ship's appearance makes it easy to browbeat a passing Rogue Trader into handing over up-to-date (if admittedly incomplete) star maps, if he knows what's good for him. Sure, the real Inquisition will hear about us imposters eventually, but there's so many horrible, horrible things we can do between now and then. Cassius, who has been somewhat irritated that his minion is more notorious than himself, has been carefully undermining her status by given her gifts. After all, anybody that requires a patron is clearly of lower status. GM: The most passive-aggressive in-party conflict ever. Jrska has her own theory about his lack of infamy. Jrska: My lord, may I act as Devil's advocate? Cassius: You may. Jrska: Your reputation as the Scourge of Leman's Solace, and Bearer of the Doomwind, is all very well, but I fear our peers in the Vortex will ask 'Yes, but what have you done lately?' Jrska's brother Prince Pseudanor may have the aftermath of a coup attempt to deal with, but at least he was smiling again when they saw him last. Jrska: I cheered him up with a good long pegging. En route to the Spinward Margin of the Calixis Sector, where the Sevarian Dominate has declared independence of the Imperium, and the Imperium is predictably attempting to stomp the planets flat. We're more interested in what sort of trouble we can cause on the way. At least the fact our ship looks like an Inquisitorial vessel means we can sail right through Imperial systems without anybody daring to pay us much attention. We do get a good look at the defences of the system as we go through - valuable information, in the right hands. Cassius: 'That matches an Inquisitorial transponder, and they're telling us to naff off. Naffing off, sir!' Jrska: 'Curiosity is Heresy' Cassius has a way of discouraging them from spending fuel to get a closer inspection of our ship - appending each transponder ping with an apt proverb. Cassius: 'Waste is Sin' Cassius: I looooove the Secutor-class ships. Jrska: I'll try to get you one for your birthday, my lord. We do pick up an ominous signal as we're on the way out, however. Cassius grabs a random crew member and slips headphones on him. Cassius: Put it through the headphones Crewmember: There's a sort of droning, sir Cassius: I just needed to see if your head exploded. What it actually is, is an Ork fleet breaking out of Warpspace, and looking for a fight. We have time for a few comments about Ork psychology and biology while Cassius decides our next move. Jrska: feh. Orks don't have any appreciation for the finer things in life. Cog: How well do Orks get on with Chaos? Cassius: They don't even get on with other Orks. Aladar: How would you feel if you were sentient fungus? Cog: I think I'd feel pretty good about myself Cassius decides to send the Imperial defenders in the system a quick heads-up about the incoming war fleet, then does something bold but suicidally insane - dive the Chains of Judgement into Warpspace via the rift the Orks just opened. The crew scramble to obey, praying they can get the Gellar Fields warmed up before the deamons of the Warp swarm to eat our eyeballs. Jrska: Will we open fire on the Orks as we pass, my lord? Cassius: Why? That might weaken them. We are not allies of the Imperium. The enemy of my enemy is my enemy's enemy. We don't even have time to crank down the shutters that stop us gazing unprotected into the Warp. Most of the crew are merely terrified out of their minds at the sight, and suffer no more than the usual psychoses and loss of sphincter control. Aladar, however, lives up to his reputation ( and rolls 150 on a d100 test ). Jrska: You... Useless... F**k. GM: You came throughout it without any mental traumas. Jrska: No additional traumas beyond the trauma of being Aladar. Cassius manages to keep the crew at their posts through simple intimidation and lots of shouting. Cassius: The warp is scary but I'm right here. GM: They have a force-field protecting them from the Warp... Cassius: And they don't have a force-field protecting them from me. Of all the places the jump can take us, we arrive in one of the Fringe's Forbidden Systems, where automated defenses pause in their endless bombardment of the planet below, in order to tell us to fuck right off. Auto-systems: This system is under Inquisitorial quarantine. Jrska: Cassius: Auto-systems: Leave immediately or be labelled heretics. Jrska: *Snicker* We bluff the battle stations into thinking we need to pause here for repairs, and determine which of the crew we need to cull. Fairly standard practise, even more so on Imperial vessels. Cassius: Blood doesn't make a good lubricant. Jrska: It does for Khornate war engines. We demand an situation report from the stations, and press on. The next destination is even more fraught - a system where an entire fleet of Loyalist space marines are currently gathering. It's the Millennial Wardens (a fleet-based chapter Weldun invented and played in the Deathwatch campaign, although he's playing a renegade Storm Crow in this one) who are scholarly, highly intelligent, and even worse for us, regularly work alongside the real Inquisition. Cassius: The Storm Crows are a fleet-based chapter with incredibly bad luck. Wherever they go there's a disaster. Cog: Sounds like us. Cassius: *glares* Not that they respond to disasters, they just happen wherever they go. Cog: Again, sounds like us. GM: A space marine's voice comes over the box. You all know what that sounds like. Jrska: I've been taking Cassius' orders long enough. Although generally there is more shouting involved. The Wardens are politely forceful - their scans of the Chains of Judgement have revealed no blatantly Chaotic features - continent-blasting weapons powered by tortured kittens, that sort of thing - but they do recognise the alien origin of our chameleonic hull. They quite want a closer look and demonstration. Cassius and Jrska hasten to find some reason to keep them from coming aboard, so they won't discover the mutant crew, or little things like the temple-slash-bondage-dungeon Jrska built in the chapel. Eventually she convinces the increasingly suspicious marines that it's for their own safety. Jrska: You are Space Marines, and we are reluctant to expose you to possible corruption. Unlike our own acolytes, who are by definition expendable. Arch-Magos 'Father': They are being exceptionally inquisitive. Jrska: More so than us, and we've got the inquisition ship . But Jrska's talented tongue persuades them to limit their study of the hull to the outside of the hull, as well as offering us resupply of food, fuel and volatiles, which was becoming a problem. Jrska: Wow. Talk about Refuge in Audacity - a shipful of mutants, cultists and traitors, turns up to a space marine fleet and says 'right, give us stuff' The Millennial Wardens take the pursuit of knowledge very seriously - in their Hall of Ancients, they consult the chapter's many Dreadnoughts for advice on past events and future strategy. Dreadnought: Today's lecture will be about the Assault on Garrus VII. Marine: Sir? I have always thought the official account of that assault was exaggerated. Dreadnought: THUMP. I WAS THERE. Do you dare argue with me? The Marines are persuaded to send us an up-to-date starmap, too. Where to next? A Shrine World dedicated to one or more of the Imperium's innumerable saints has a certain appeal. Jrska: I'm going to re-read one of my favourite books - 'The Lives of the Saints'. I find it very inspirational. Look at this one for example - 'Flayed alive with a belt sander'. See what I mean? Jrska: I've got very fond memories of shrine worlds. One of my best outfits was made by some nuns on a shrine world. Sorry, I misspoke - made *out of* some nuns on a shrine world. Cassius: *sigh* Plus, there's the claim that the Sisters of Battle have never ever fallen to Chaos, which is a challenge to our ingenuity and evil. Cassius: Maybe you can find some Sisters Repentia and teach them they have nothing to repent. Jrska: Let's demand 600 of their most pious warriors. Cassius: Let's not. No more treats for you until you're finished the tasks at hand. Eventually we decide that turning up at one of the temples of seclusion, where such battle-nuns retreat when dealing with crises of faith, and posing as suspicious Inquisitors, will be an ideal way to seed corruption across the entire planet. Hie thee to a nunnery!

*nods happily*

Inkubus OoC: We still have to figure out how we met. Felix OoC: Craigslist. Inkubus OoC: I probably used my usual trick - turned up with a really expensive bottle of wine. Inkubus: Felix and I both like the good things in life Titus: It's your only good point Inkubus: I like all the debased things in life too. I just like life On Inkubus' ability to solve every problem with his 'charisma' Inkubus: When all you have is a hammer, everything looks like a nail Felix: 'the hammer is my penis'? Anyway, regarding the latest job, getting the band back together. Specifically, the Elementals, back to their recording company. This we achieved by convincing them Shadowrunners were after them, staging a raid on our home, and dragging their unconscious behinds off to one of our hideouts. We then reinforced this 'ransoming' them back to their company, thus making the company look good, and the band unlikely to try going independent again in future. Just a little bonus for our employer - it's little touches like that that ensure repeat business. Inkubus: Not bad for having a concussion grenade go off between my legs. Titus: How are the plums, anyway? In fact, the client is so impressed he immediately offers us extra work - in order to promote the Elemental's latest album, they were going to be filming a music tri-vid. Of course, the band doing a runner wrecked the schedule, which is extremely inconvenient, since they were going to be filming outside Seattle's border in Salish-Shidhe (one of the Native American States) and the permit to do so has now expired. Perhaps our team can escort the band and film crew across anyway, so they can get the filming done anyway without anyone noticing? Inkubus: I wonder where they want to film that's so important Inkubus: Mt Rainier?Felix: Mt. Rainier? That's an active volcano isn't it? Inkubus: We better not be filming there. Felix: Wouldn't surprise me - they are the Elementals. Felix: Bloody artistic integrity - can't they find a forest this side of the border to film in? A major challenge, given half the team were the ones that 'kidnapped' them the day before. This new mission will need some thought before we accept - even though Labrat actually has dual citizenship of Seattle and Salish-Shidhe, we're going to need bribe money at the very least. Greenlight: We're going to need extra money for this - one of us has already taken a stun grenade to the balls tonight. GM: He's willing to let you keep the any vehicles and materiel you require. Felix: 'We require a nuclear submarine.' Inkubus: We'll use a novel technique to get past the border patrol - the truth. 'We HAD a permit, and these pricks went and run off to do their own thing - you know artistic types - and by the time we got them back the visa expired.' Felix: 'and THIS prick insists on artistic integrity, so we have to film in your forest'. Greenlight: Get your Inkubus Action Figure! Felix: With Realistic Hip Thrusting Action! Greenlight: Irrational Hatred of Scarves! Felix: Dressed like a Chippendale Dancer! Thus back to Titus' hide-out - the one with the sealed-up windows, sunlamps, and indoor farm. Of vegetables and chickens, not weed, since real food is rather more desirable than drugs these days. It also has something new - a vampiric assassin, who drops on us from the ceiling, spraying magic and automatic gunfire with gay abandon. Inkubus OoC: Fangs for the Memories! One Shadowrunner! Two Shadowrunners! Three Shadowrunners! HAHAHAHA FelixOoC: I wonder who we pissed off so much that they sent a vampire after us. Despite the fact we outnumber him severely, the vampire is a formidable opponent. Even the fact that the entire team consists of mages and adepts didn't given him reason to pause. Felix OoC: So six of us vs. one guy is a worse fight than us vs. several hundred bikers. Inkubus OoC: Yup. Conservation of ninjitsu - 'hey, they only sent one ninja! ..... We're boned.' Felix calls up a bound Earth Elemental, before being gunned down ( good thing he bought that very very expensive bulletproof coat ). Labrat: So a big orange rocky thing has appeared, saying 'It's clobbering time!'? Actually, no - the elemental itself is badly outclassed. Especially since the vampire can go to mist form and still cast magic. It's only Titus' desperate swing with his sledgehammer that saves us, since even in mist form, carriers of the vampire virus are still violently allergic to wood. Labrat: We have wood for vampire Greenlight manages to disarm and stun the bastard with a shock baton, and we tie him to a wooden chair for magical interrogation. We haven't figured out the allergy thing yet, but once we notice the haemorrhaging hit points we realise we'd better hurry. Since we don't dare risk untying him, either. Inkubus gets to work, telepathically ripping out the vampire's banking details, safety deposit box numbers, and anything else we can use. Such as the information that he was trying to kill us, as a favour for his friend Eclipse - the music exec that hired us. Inkubus: Jeez, I know they say the music industry is a bunch of bloodsuckers, I didn't think they meant it literally. We are more than slightly pissed off - after going to all that trouble to make the exec look good, being assassinated as loose ends is a bit aggravating. Naturally, we intend to reciprocate. Inkubus: We'll send him a photo of his assassin tied to a chair Greenlight: With a caption - See You Soon Labrat: I'll include a musical sting 'nana nana, nana nana, hey hey hey, goodbye' To add insult to injury, we'll 'rescue' that band and help them go independent. Inkubus: We're going to rescue them. I 'hired' the very Shadowrunners that kidnapped them in the first place Felix: Schlock Mercenary - All: WE GET PAID TWICE Inkubus: Do the happy dance, Tagon! Labrat finishes off the dying assassin in a manner that would make Cronenberg or Kurosawa proud. Greenlight: Jesus Christ, Labrat, what the fuck?!?! I thought you were going to cut his throat, not cut his fucking head off! Are you fucking Yakuza!?! Hopefully, nobody will catch HMHVV from all the blood that sprays around. So, time for revenge - Inkubus and Felix will set up shop a few kilometres away with telescopes, where they can overlook the exec's penthouse apartment in an otherwise empty ten-storey block. Line-of-sight magic is so damn useful. Labrat and Greenlight will go up the inside of the building, working their way past any security. Titus and Warhammer will climb up the outside. Then, when we're all in position, we send the 'Seeing You Soon' gif to the target and each other, to scare the execs shitless and then render him lifeless while he's panicking. Greenlight: This is a military-grade lock. I've only heard of these things in a theoretical 'zine. This might actually be a challenge. Labrat: *ClickclickclickPOP* Or not. As it happens, our elaborate efforts are wasted - he's not home. His giant salamander fire elemental is. Felix: He's got a fucking pet crocodile! There's a naga too, hiding in the teepee/medicine lodge set up in one of the rooms, but after he sees what happens to the salamander he surrenders without a fight. At least this explains how the exec knew where to send the vampire - he's a magician. And according to certain notes on his computer, found while the team is busy ransacking the place, he's intending to use the band to awaken an ancient and probably evil spirit called Twilight. Greenlight: Eclipse? Twilight? Inkubus: Noooooooo! The Sparkles! The Sparkles! Felix: And their video director is Lupus. Inkubus: Damn you Stephanie Meyers! It's also a full moon. But at least this explains why he tried to have us killed - we were rather more important loose ends than we thought. GM: Who enters the teepee first? All: *point at the troll* Kaa, the Naga, happily comes with us. He should find the sunlamps and pond at Titus' hide-out quite comfortable. Such are the drawbacks of using intelligent creatures as your slaves - they tend to resent it. Titus: Kaa... Which is... Ukrainian for Penis? All: *give Titus a Look* Inkubus: Hang about, I've got the badge - Nagas Are People Too Just prior to setting the apartment on fire and blaming the salamander, one last ransacking for anything valuable, anything magical, anything that should be given to the band, and anything we can use for a long distance magical attack on the exec. Hair and fingernail clippings would be good. Felix: Did you check the drain in his shower? Greenlight: I was afraid to touch it Labrat: He was afraid it would become sentient and attack him. So off on a cross-border roadtrip, to stop a major ritual, kill a backstabbing exec, liberate a band, and avoid whatever werewolves, snipers, and other protections Eclipse has arranged. There's no point telling the authorities - even if they believed us it would take too long for them to get off their collective asses.

The plan : help that Imperial starship out of the Vortex, so they'll unwittingly feed information back to the forces of Chaos - i.e. Us. Doing so, however, means using the Thirteenth Station, the only safe route in and out of the Screaming Vortex, and even then most Chaos ships sacrifice a few hundred slaves before they dare. Over the centuries, the frozen corpses have become something of a nuisance. The blockade fleet that patrols this side of the Warpgate is a nuisance as well. Aladar: So what am I flying and what am I shooting? Cog: You're not flying anything. Jrska OoC: And you're not shooting anything because Jrska cut your balls off. Cassius' ploy - Lure the fleet away from the gate, while our new 'friends' sneak past, silent running. We'll be towing the hulk of that raider ship we shot up too, so the prospect of an apparently Inquisitorial ship, with something no-doubt valuable in tow, should be irresistible. Of course, we also have to repair the Imperial ship, strip the raider, and pull off our stunt, without anybody , including our own mix of mutant and deluded Emperor-worshipping crew, figuring out what we're actually doing. Tricky, given Cassius' winged mutation, disturbing psychic aura, and the need to work closely with the naive Imperial captain. Jrska: Not as disturbing as me. And then there's the drooling noises whenever the captain is around and I'm there. At least Jrska has something to distract her - brainwashing that Space Marine Dreadnought. Cassius: I gave Jrska a challenge - break someone who is immune to sensation. Jrska: That's OK, I'm watching chick flicks with him. Non-stop. For days on end. Cassius: Jrska - I want you to select the prize crew for the raider. I want them competent, and loyal. A proportion of them are allowed to be worshippers of Slaanesh. Jrska: ... 100% is a proportion... Cassius: Not more than 1 in 10 Aladar van Rijn attempts to make himself useful, by getting some neural upgrades from the ships' Magos-engineer. He phrases it in a way that would make Slaanesh proud. Aladar: I'm plugging myself into Father. All: .... He remains useless. The opening move of the Cassius Gambit nearly stalls the engine and almost tears the hulk free of its tow chains. Aladar: Why are there four pedals when there are six directions? Cassius: Why do you insist on flying the ship when you're no good at it? Happily, the rest of us can offset Aladar's failings, by intimidating, cajoling, and exhorting the crew into working harder. Aladar: Why do you keep calling it extorting the crew? Jrska: Because I'm making them do stuff Even then, there are limits to what we can achieve, even as we run rings around the blockade's formidable raiders, and start earning the attention of the hulking and extremely formidable cruisers. Jrska: No matter how fast I beat the drum, they're not going to turn the ship any faster. Aladar: The engines cannae take it, Captain! Cassius: You weren't raised by the Adeptus Mechanicus - you don't know that ancient prayer But it works ( apparently Aladar can remember how to pilot a ship if Cassius threatens to flay him alive ) and the Chains of Judgement retreats into the Vortex, and that delectable captain and her ship make a successful dash for the Thirteenth Station. No doubt the blockade's admiral will carry out a few disciplinary executions. Back to Jrska's brother's lair in the Ragged Helix, where we discover that some of his supposedly loyal minions attempted a coup. There's considerable damage, but at least the traitors were driven off. Cassius is annoyed by this evidence of Chaos' unreliability. Cassius: I make a point of not screwing people over until they've screwed me. Jrska: ... Interesting phrasing, my lord. Some of the survivors suspect it was Jrska's arrival that prompted the coup - a more important question is who egged it on? Leading suspects include Seyr the Bereft, who we acquired that Tyrant's Cord for months ago, and Gray the Mercenary. Cassius: I don't buy it. Gray has always been like me, an honourable - Jrska: So he was acting out of character, my lord? Cassius: ...True. Aladar: You think he was mind-controlled? Jrska: No. I'm implying that his persona of an honourable mercenary may be just that - a persona. Cassius: For some reason you're earning more infamy than me, and I don't know why. Jrska: Perhaps it was the thing with the penguin, my lord. But there we had to leave it for the session, after helping with the clean-up and acquiring a few more shiny things from the piles of wreckage. We still have to get more weapons built into the Chains, too. Perhaps something powered by that vault-full of tortured human souls?

Because the Vatican Observatory is run by Jesuits?

Played my first game of Firestorm Armada this weekend. Was a close thing - my Aquan fleet eventually managed to take down the enemy flagship and kill their admiral, but not before they'd disabled mine, boarded it, and kidnapped my own fleet commander. ."We shall rescue our beloved leader! We shall not let him languish in the hands of those air-breathing human scum!" "Hey! Humans serve on Aquan ships as well!" "Aqualungs don't count - you're good humans. Do a trick and we'll throw you a sardine."

*nods* I'm confidant that Jrska could seduce her, too. Better hope Cassius can keep them separated....

Celebrating the successful dreamchip run with a dinner party at Felix and Inkubus' apartment Greenlight: My mother was really big on Natural foods. But it's taken three years on nutrasoy for me to really appreciate her cooking. Felix: hmm. Nutrasoy autocorrects to Nut Raspy Greenlight: I don't think I've been eating that for three years But what should be on the menu? A garden salad from the hydroponic garden, crumbed real pork cutlets for the main course, and so on. Felix: We'll hit that grocery. Inkubus: No. Felix: Not in a criminal sense! Felix: Something simple for dessert... Inkubus: Strawberry mousse with whipped cream? Felix: I think I saw some nutmeg at the store. The drinks with each course are an important consideration, too. Inkubus selects one of his favorites - an import from one of the Elf nations, that's 500 NuYen a bottle. Felix: The wine locker has a better lock than the apartment. Indeed it does. Including palm-print recognition, and a level four maglock. Warhammer: What do you do when you get drunk? Felix: You do not get drunk on this wine. Inkubus: This is for special occasions - if I want to get drunk I go out. Felix: I do wonder what will happen the first time someone breaks in here and sees all the security is on the wine locker. A wild job offer appears! Apparently some band are trying to run out on their recording contract. The company want them and their album back. This sounds like an ideal job for Inkubus, given his links to Seattle's entertainment scene. The Johnson wants to meet us at a stripper bar. Felix: The Pink Pitbull? Inkubus: Is that the one where I have to wear a chain and padlock as a belt? Greenlight: I was hoping somebody would know the club. Felix: Why is everybody looking at me? Inkubus: I think the rest of the party might like some warning if it's a male strip joint. GM: They're women Inkubus: OK Titus: But they're all trolls. Inkubus eyes the almost pornographic neon displays outside, and tries to resist temptation, just like he tries to resist everything else. Warhammer: Just walk it off, dude. Inkubus: Hey, I've NEVER had to pay for it. Inkubus: I don't think you can use Orgasm on yourself Felix: If you could, you'll never go out Inkubus: True The decor at the Pink Pitbull leaves something to be desired Greenlight: Jesus Christ, this is like the shattered dreams of a 50 year-old Barbie Greenlight: I thought we were retrieving property, not people Titus: You honestly think the corps make any distinction? Staking out the private recording studio where the band are believed to be working,opposite a mall. Inkubus: Redmond Morgue? GM: Mall. Inkubus: Ah, not morgue then. Greenlight: Depends on the day. Inkubus: It'll be just our luck that they're a former Shadowrun team. Felix: Thank you for that exercise in pessimism Felix: I'm fascinated to see just how badly this can go wrong. There's a certain morbid curiosity. Warhammer: That's why I came along The band are indeed there - and proceed to leave in four different directions. And we only had one radio tracking bug. We hurriedly split up in pursuit. Titus gets sent after Bambi, the band's troll drummer. Warhammer: Troll on troll. Felix: You might want to rephrase that. Inkubus: People will pay a lot of money to see that. Ever had a troll roll? I recommend it. At least we managed to track some of them home to their shops and apartments. Unfortunately, some of us also get spotted. By a bizarre coincidence, the band's lead singer lives only a few blocks away from Inkubus and Felix. This suggests a new ploy - rather than drag them back to their corporate masters, persuade them. Titus: Fetch the charisma stick! Greenlight: Hoist the Charisma Beam! Free hookers and beer here! Warhammer: Hwah? Where's that beam? Greenlight: 'I have pointed ears, therefore I have charisma.' Felix: Just ask Spock. Greenlight: *turns Vulcan salute into a one-fingered salute* Inkubus turns up at Whispering Wind's door, with a bottle of extremely expensive booze, to talk to the young woman about independent recording contracts and promotional opportunities. While he's there, however, Bambi calls up with a somewhat frantic tale about how they were tailed back to their shop by Titus. W.W. naturally assumes Inkubus is part of the snatch team, and rolls a concussion grenade under his chair. Lurking on the street, the youth Greenlight hears the explosion and comes running. Greenlight: That was quick. It usually takes longer than this. Felix: And the worst thing? It'll shatter the bottle. Greenlight: Are you alright in there? We heard a loud banging! Felix: *snrk* Inkubus modifies the plan on the fly - if they can't be persuaded, perhaps they can be scared back into the fold. He plays stunned but innocent. Greenlight, outside the door, might be one of the snatch team! Inkubus proceeds to scare Whispering Wind with stories about how scary shadowrunners can be - after all, he has material to work from. Inkubus: Did you say somebody was trying to kidnap you? Do you think that might be one of them? Felix: 'Those guys are all crazy! They'll stop at nothing! I heard they kidnapped some Hoillywood exec's girlfriend right from his yacht!' Inkubus: That grenade was supposed to stop a shadowrunner? It didn't even stop me! Titus: 'They could be anywhere! Shadowrunners are like ninjas!' Warhammer: 'Except for the troll' Inkubus: You need a safehouse - somewhere completely unconnected to you. Hey! I live a few blocks away! Just a minute, I'll need to call my flatmate and clear it with him. Titus OoC: Beware a social character doing his job. Felix: He's just talked them into hiding out at our apartment Warhammer: .... F**k, he can spin some shit, can't he? That's why I do the shooting and he does the talking. Greenlight dresses like a villain from one of the Shadowrun movies, and follows Inkubus and Whispering Wind down the street, until they 'lose' him. Of course, once the entire band has been gathered at the apartment, there's a chance of blowback if they ever do find out how they're been conned. Text messages are hurriedly exchanged. Warhammer, Felix, and Inkubus will be babysitting the band. Titus and Greenlight wait to launch their attack. Warhammer and Inkubus do their best to make the band rethink going independent, while Felix plays the sceptic. Inkubus: I'll convince them it's our safe house - what sort of idiot would take you to their actual home? Inkubus: You need to have more faith in me. Greenlight: I heard an explosion! Inkubus: If I need help I'll scream Warhammer: You have to admit a grenade probably meant trouble 'Where the fuck did that come from?!' Greenlight: 'That escalated quickly' Inkubus: You know that gangwar? I heard Shadowrunners started that, just to get one guy. Felix: Yeah, right. *rolls eyes* Warhammer: Some of my ex-military buddies say there's been a lot of runner activity in the neighbourhood Felix: Oh, not you too. Felix: What tail? You were probably imagining things. Inkubus: Yeah? Seeing the same troll in two places! Explain that! Felix: How would you tell them apart? Inkubus: .... Felix: Sorry. Inkubus: Excuse my friend, he's from down south. Warhammer: The important thing is that you lost the tail. *doorbell rings* Felix: I'll get it. Warhammer: Shouldn't you check the security cam first? Felix: Why? It's probably the grocery boy anyway. Inkubus: Oh no... Felix... I'm so sorry Titus: *kicks door in* Inkubus casts a mass Orgasm Spell while the band panics. Felix hits the floor, pretending to be affected, and Warhammer blazes away with automatic gel-round fire, which sounds very impressive, but is unlikely to actually hurt or even hit anybody. It still does, however. Inkubus: You're not supposed to be *successfully* defending them Greenlight: 'Sorry, I don't practise missing people' Bambi grabs for his own weapon, in blind panic, and manages to empty the clip into the ceiling. Felix, hiding behind the furniture, bites his tongue and manages to choke down his fury at the property damage to his home. Felix: Maybe we can spin this into a rent reduction Titus 'punches Warhammer out', and Greenlight steps in, surveying the screaming, twitching bandmembers and hefting his own weapons. Greenlight: Nice hit, Akuma. Are you going to come quietly? Bambi: *still pulling the trigger of the empty gun* Click click click! Greenlight: Thought so. *charges with shock-maul and gel-pistol* Inkubus attempts to 'rescue' Whispering Wind Inkubus: Come on! I'll get you out of here! *stunbolt* Titus: Right, you lot. You have a choice. Stun-rod or Tranq Patch Band unconscious and terrified out of their wits, the team considers their next move. Truck them across to Titus' hide-out, for a start. Inkubus magically interrogates the band for the whereabouts of the finished album - apparently they've hidden it in a book - and Felix suggests using the spell Catalogue to locate it, at each of the bandmember's apartments. Inkubus: I knew I kept you around for something. More than your share of the rent. Inkubus wants to stay with the band, still pretending to be a helpful bystander caught up in the mess. Inkubus: You're going to have to rough me up. Greenlight: *Gestures Inkubus closer, cracks knuckles.... and gets out the make-up kit.* But what to tell the cops, if they show up? Inkubus: I'll tell them a version of the truth. I was entertaining a young woman, and a troll burst in, shot up the roof... Greenlight: ... Burst into tears... Inkubus: ... And left. Starcops: And what did this troll look like, sir? Inkubus: Big! Titus: Same problem the cops have every time they need to ID a troll Starcops: And the young woman? Inkubus: I'll give them a good description - that's an amalgamation of my last three dates. Felix: Congratulations on that masterpiece of theatre. Titus: What if they ever come to see you afterwards, and we're all here? Inkubus: 'Ooh, this is awkward. Hi! I'm a bastard.'

Aboard the formerly-inquisitorial ship the Chains of Judgement, where there are many ways to occupy the long months of travel, and distract Jrska from the way Aladar isn't her slavishly devoted plaything anymore. We can search every inch of the ship for the Inquisitorial Rosette formerly worn by the Inquisitor that caught us, and who subsequent got turned into a deamonhost, reduced to ashes, and used as trade goods. True, it likely has built-in defences against misuse. But that shouldn't stop hereteks that aren't afraid of things like AIs, and quantum cryptography - let alone the kind of people who are unbowed by the laws of reality. Jrska: I reject your reality and substitute my own Jrska: Since Chaos has no interest in laws, including Child Labour Laws, let's go find some young children. They can fit in the small spaces. 'Put your hand in there kid. Don't worry about the hissing' One possible hiding-place for the rosette is in the decks beneath the Reclamation chambers, where leftovers from the cyber-conversion process go. Cassius: I'm thinking zombies. GM: Just a minute, I want to make a note here... Jrska: Did somebody just break Rule 1? Eyeing the various bodies on the meathooks. Jrska: Well, I like somebody who's well hung. Cassius has plans for that space marine dreadnought we acquired. But it requires mentally breaking the occupant first. Jrska: Pity you and your blood-brother's enhanced physiognomy includes drug resistance. I was thinking curare - imagine not being able to move, or even blink, and a nice full-length mirror overhead, while the tech-adepts perform surgery on your internal organs. Cassius: You are aware that that is the kind of thing that happens to Dreadnoughts every day they aren't actually in combat? Jrska: Yes. Like I said, it's a pity he's a space marine. We'll have to save it for some merely Jrska's part-time minion, Adept E, is overseeing the usual operations on the reclamation unit. Jrska: Wotcha, E. Vivisected anybody lately? Adept E: No. Nobody has died. It has been very... Dull. Cassius: Forgive me if I'm wrong, but doesn't vivisection mean you don't have to wait until they're dead? Adept E: *cheers up* It turns out that there are entire lost decks below, that are somehow being filtered out of the tech-priests' perception. No wonder they couldn't find the rosette down here. GM: There's lots of reclamation tech down here, but none you're intimate with. Jrska: Intimate with technology? Cassius: Intimate with a reclamator. Cog OoC: There's the tag-line for this episode Jrska OoC: Cog! Stop humping that television! The lights are still working down in the Black Holds, but Jrska ensures they have more. Jrska: The more the merrier. I don't want to see a stone angel at the other end of the corridor, and the lights suddenly go out. There's conveyor belts and automated rotary saws, grinding machines, and more, between the Reclamation deck and the furnaces. We, predictably, are on a metal gantry high over the churning machinery. Jrska: Will this take our lord Cassius' weight? GM: And the bolts snap, plunging you into the machinery below. Cassius and his mutant advisor are promptly seized by the various amputator mechanisms and whisked off towards the furnaces. Cog and Aladar cling to the roof and plan a rescue attempt. Cog: Did you bring your jetpack? Aladar: I always bring the jetpack! Jrska OoC: I really should have some witty line as I plummet here, but I've got nothing. Cog OoC: I like going down on things but this is ridiculous? Jrska OoC: ... Cog OOC: It was the best I had. Aladar: I sweep in to rescue Jrska. Jrska: He still loves me! Cassius: Not that he shows it often. Hooked actuators and whirling bone saws hack away at Cassius and Jrska's armour, despite their efforts to get off the conveyer. GM: You get the impression this conveyor was designed for people that weren't completely dead. Cassius: Hit the off switch! Jrska: What safety switch? This is the Imperium, they've never heard of safety. They don't even have safety rails. Cassius: The 'oh my god-emperor the conveyer belt has gone mad, we're going to lose this entire quota of bodies, quick hit the off switch' switch. Jrska: 'First, fill in this form' Eventually Cassius loses patience and just blows the machinery apart with his bolt gun. Cassius: Occasionally, brute force is the appropriate response. Jrska: Isn't that the Imperium in spades? Cog: Lord Cassius, I've shut all the trash compactors on the detention level. Cassius: The damage and the fact I'm two bolt-rounds down is on your head. Cog: At least I stayed upright. Jrska: I take a few steps away from Cog. Cog: What kind of adventuring party doesn't have rope? Jrska: If you want a ten foot pole, then you should have brought a Slaanesh Marine. Aladar: .... I just got that. Ew. But there are still more corridors choked with churning machinery - no doubt there are off-switches, but it's likely that anybody who knew where there are has been dead for centuries. Aladar's ineptitude undoes most of Cog's efforts at getting past. Cog: Stop helping! Jrska: I can't charm the machinery out of the way. Pile-driving is a thing, but doesn't apply here. Aladar: Oh god, now I'm picturing a Slaanesh tech-priest. Cog: 'I'll give you an oil change' Jrska: Lube job. Cog: Who designed this? Jrska: The Imperium. Occupational Health and Safety is heresy. GM: The Imperium is good for death trap technology. Cassius OoC: I keep flashing back to the chompers in ... Jrska OoC: Galaxy Quest? Cog OoC: 'Why do we even have this?' Cog: I found a doohickey. What does it do? Cassius: It do... Hickey. Aladar: It's a kissing machine? Cassius sends Jrska off to break the spirit of the dreadnought's barely living occupant. Jrska: I'll take a picnic hamper and tell him all about my life. In excruciating detail. Cassius: You know the best thing? I just got Jrska to try and seduce a corpse. Jrska: *sings* Neeeeecrophilia. The doohickey is a Stryxis personal phase reality shifter - very useful, since it makes the bearer effectively invisible. If she can break Cassius' former chapter-brother, Cassius has plans. Cassius: Stealth Dreadnought! Of course, why would the late inquisitor even have had foul Xenos technology on board in the first place? Clearly he was of a somewhat radical bent. Jrska: Given the Navigator is a mutant and the Magos is a heretek, I'm detecting a theme here. This hypocrisy just adds to Cassius' disgust with the Imperium. Happily, a chance arises to exercise this disgust - distress calls from an Imperial transport lost in the Screaming Vortex. The broadcast was unwise. Jrska: A distress call is a good way to attract predators. Cassius: It's also a good way to attract predators into a trap. As it turns out, the transport has already attacked, disabled, and currently being boarded by reavers unallied to Jrska's brother. This makes both ships fair game, especially since we can sweep in in our erstwhile Inquisitorial ship, blow away the pirates, then 'rescue' the Imperials. Jrska: We want to get close enough to wave at them through the portholes On the respective dimensions of the three ships GM: It's longer but thinner. Jrska: I prefer longer and thicker. The reavers must be rather distracted by their boarding action, since we close to point-blank range without trouble, and launch a missile broadside that devastates the completely unprepared reaver ship. Aladar: Surprise, bitches! Cassius orders us to come round, so we can send our own murder-servitors and mutants-at-arms to finish the raiders off, or at least force their surrender, prior to accepting the gratitude of the Imperials. Aladar: Aw, I wanted to ram them Jrska: Since when were you a top? Consider the raiders, when they looked out the window and saw an Inquisitorial ship and a metric fuckton of missiles just off the starboard bow, followed by fires and decompression and murder-servitors. Raid leader: Five minutes ago I was having such a wonderful day! We also get a bonus - some hidden machine spirit in the Chains of Judgement's data systems has observed us coming to the rescue of an Imperial ship, apparently concluded that the Inquisition is still in control, and unlocked a hidden safe in the bridge - we have the Rosette! Which Cassius promptly dons and boards the other vessel to intimidate the survivors. This confuses the captain - not least because it's a space marine wearing it, but then bossing everybody around and accusing everybody in sight of foul heresy IS entirely in character for an Inquisitor. Captain: Are you not servants of the Emperor? Jrska: *Snrks at the phrasing* Correct. Jrska is wearing the Stryxis device - the space marine is hard enough to explain, why bother explaining a mutant as well? Cassius announces that the entire loyalist crew are going to be mind-probed for signs of heresy, and that all relevant documents and data-slates be brought to the cargo hold for a Concludium. Essential, vast piles of paperwork will be shuffled, until some truth is reached. GM: So you have your crackpot conspiracy board spread out over an entire cargo bay? Not that the truth is important - since Cassius' plan is to escort the Imperial ship and it's captain back out into real space, and have them act as his intelligence agent. Although there is one problem with having her work for us, and her thinking she's working for the Inquisition. Her combination of good looks and innocent naivety is strongly provoking Jrska's lust. Just as well she passed that last test back in the Ragged Helix, and is actually capable of deferring a pleasure.

On Masters of the Universe, and cosplayers Me: Wow. I don't recall Malificent dressing like that. Purrdence: I point out that a minute ago you were talking about somebody that went around in a loincloth. Warhammer's player: And leather straps. Don't forget those Me: Evidently Prince Adam was going for 'distracting nudity' Anyway - hot on the trail of two more of the stolen personality chips. One for Cleopatra VII, and the other for Jack the Ripper. We've got a good idea of where they can be found too - one at a party held by the Hollywood exec that was to receive the chips, and the other roaming downtown Seattle murdering streetwalkers. With any luck we can recover both, without embarrassing the creators, but still giving our employer enough rope to hang the executive that arranged the insider-job theft, and the Ripper Chip, in the first place. Felix: I do wonder how Mains is going to stop Junior doing more damage to the company, even if he does kick him out. Perhaps he'll need to have an accident, and Mr Mains will think fondly of us. 'He fell down an elevator shaft - onto some bullets.' GM: You don't have any women in your party do you? Felix: Well, we can always put the troll in a dress. Felix: If we need a plus-one for the party... Or more to the point, somebody to use as bait for the Ripper... we're back to the troll in a dress. Felix: Skill chips would be unisex I'd think. But I expect some would be gender-limited. 'Interesting things to do with ping-pong balls' for example. Felix: It's an exercise in pessimism - If you think about all the ways a job can go wrong, for one thing you end up pleasantly surprised by the end of the day. But I'm thinking that we might be looking for a male killer, when the chip is in a woman. We ask Freya, the runner who got abandoned by her fellow thieves during the original hiest, if she's up to acting as bait. She is, if she gets a chance at revenge on her former teammates. Of course, even with three of us watching her from rooftops, cars, and alleyways with rifles, pistols, and magic at the ready, there's still the difficulty of differentiating between the Ripper, and people actually trying to negotiate Freya's attention. Felix: We wait until Freya takes them into the alley, stun them, then go through their pockets. Just to be sure they're not the Ripper, you know. Inkubus: I think I'm on the wrong team - you guys could really use my Orgasm spell right now. GM: It truly is a miserable night. Felix: It's Seattle, they all are. The thick fog that rolls in doesn't help. No does the fact that the Ripper is Freya's former teammate, heavily cyber-enhanced, and faster than the first few bullets. Luckily for us, he doesn't dodge everything, although we do have to rush to get the chip out before the paramedic evac team turn up to rescue their client. Hopefully they'll be able to treat a badly fried brain, but we can't hang around. We have to meet Inkubus at the party. Felix: Evidently when you yelled Go Go Go! I spilled the thermos on my lap Felix: They keep calling me Bubbles. I can't think why. Warhammer: It's your personality coming out Labrat: Or what you have in common with Michael Jackson. Forever blowing Bubbles. Felix: Glare. Inkubus: You'll notice I didn't say that. Of course, only the troll is dressed well enough to get in to assist Inkubus. But how will they get out, with the target? Felix: Bond, James Bond. Pack the sniper rifle in an inconspicuous case, and stroll back into the party. They didn't even notice you were gone. Felix: He's an elf, he'll probably run down the side of the building. GM: This is Shadowrun, not Bubblegum Crisis. Inkubus: And I don't have Levitate. Labrat: And he's not the Fucking Elf-Man. The party is loud, debauched, and has lots of strobe lighting. Felix: And this is how we discover the other side-effect of the dreamchips. Photosensitive Epilepsy. Felix: I don't want to know what you do when I'm out of town. Inkubus: I spend about a grand on cleaners. GM: You overhear a conversation. Felix: 'I know! I know! That's why I'm getting my testicles laminated!' Inkubus: I resist the chance to become a porn star. Yes, let's send the most debauched character that has to keep resisting temptation to a party like this. Labrat: You DID volunteer for this pat of the mission. Inkubus: I know, I know... GM: They have a room with actual food. Felix: I'm regretting not going now. GM: They even have real tuna. Inkubus: I'm not resisting THAT Teehee's old teacher is at the party - alarming, given we told him to lay low. But it's possible he's merely here to run the simsense machines, for the extra income. Felix: What?! Inkubus: Whatwhatwhat?! Inkubus tries to charm Cleo away from her Hollywood date. It doesn't work. We hope the exec's triumphant smile is merely over the sexual conquest, and not because he recognises a foiled snatch operation when he sees one. Warhammer: This is so going to hurt your ego, Inkubus Tailing the couple back to their yacht is tricky too, even with an Orgy spell leaving the pair rather frisky. For one thing the driver recognises the pursuit, and Inkubus is forced to call up spiritual trackers. We barely reach the dock in time - Felix's stunball doesn't knock them out, but does, in conjunction with the earlier spell, leave Cleo and the exec pawing each other's clothes off as they cast off. Felix: What happened to their driver? GM: He's driven off - his job is done for the night Felix: Plus a Ford Americar screamed past him, and a mad dwarf jumped out and leaped off the end of the dock. Labrat: And at the other end of the dock a Land Rover screeched to a halt and a Ork got out with a very large rifle. Warhammer: I bet he's glad his job is done for the night. Labrat shoots out the boat's engine, Warhammer leaps aboard, and deals with the exec's bodyguards. When the rest of us hurry aboard, we find the exec and Cleo passed out and naked from their strenuous bedroom gymnastics, and move to get Cleo back to the hotel where we're keeping the chip designer, Teehee. Felix: There's one silver lining to everybody dying when we rip out the chip - it helps keep the secret. Inkubus: Of course, I'd consider it a crime against nature if Cleo dies. Warhammer: Eh, necrophilia isn't that bad. Felix: The hotel might complain if we bring a naked woman and an unconscious elf in. GM: Which is why you bring a rug. Felix: Yes! A rolled-up carpet over our shoulders! Warhammer: *High five* Labrat manages to get the chip out without frying Cleo's synapses. Good news! The dreamchips only have a 66% mortality rate - the corporation will be pleased. But we still need to get the chips, Cleo, and Teehee,and the rest of the evidence, back to our corporate contact. The carpet again, as another nod to the original Cleopatra? Inkubus: Two carpets. I did leave a bottle of very expensive scotch with Teehee. He's not going anywhere without help. Miss Winter, our 'Johnson': Why is she naked? Inkubus: She was like that when we found her. We collect our pay, hand over our itemised expense account, and get a very sizeable bonus as well. And Inkubus scores a date with Miss Winter. Felix: So, what sort of dinner party should we have to celebrate our successful run? Inkubus: I think this should be one of yours.

I don't doubt it. Personally, I think Cassius has made a terrible error, but I'm not going to be the one to tell him. After all, he threw me across the ruins just for trading for soulmeats

Cassius has certain views about his subordinates, the other PCs. But Cog is a puzzle. Cassius: Jrska, the Degenerate. Aladar the Fop, Rold the Attack Dog, Batholomeas the Dandy, and then there's you, Cog. I don't have anything for you. You're just around, doing your job. Cog has been thinking about inventive applications of his medical know-how. In particular, biological warfare. With the aid of Nurgle, Chaos god of plague and decay, he should be able to come up with some really interesting pandemics. Jrska: I'll help you with the rituals - I'll dress as a sexy nurse. But on with the situation in Surgub, on Q'sal, where the rulers are busy and the lesser sorcerers are plotting. One of them has hired us to kill a rival. Even if this wasn't a planet dedicated to Tzeench, God of Change, this is an obvious set-up for a double-cross, and it only waits to see how many layers can be added to the plot. Jrska: I'm certain there's a quadruple-cross planned, at least. Cog: We'll probably find out they're working together to have us killed. Jrska: How much do you want to bet the Stylite wants us to kill somebody else, and THEY want us to kill the Artifex? And of course, there's the new PC 'Bartholomeas Jones' who claims to be on the run from his own marine chapter. We don't believe this, but will play along for now. Jrska: Let's keep him at arm's length - Rold's arm length, preferably holding that soul-eating daemonsword of his. Jrska: Think the Stylite will hire us to kill the Artifex, or just kill us? Cassius: Flip a coin, basically. Cog: It'll land on its side, given where we are. Jrska: Or turn into a banana. Perhaps we can find a way to complete the exact wording of the contract, if not the spirit. Jrska: They do call an orgasm a little death... Maybe if i give the Stylite lots of orgasms? Aladar: You'd need at least a thousand. You couldn't do it in the time we have left. Jrska: I take that bet! And of course there's the matter of the murder weapon, a daemon-sword crafted by the Artifex. None of us are willing to carry it, since daemon-weapons are notorious for seizing control of their bearers, and half of us already have other weapons that would get jealous. Jrska: We'll let Aladar carry it - he's obviously incompetent, no-one will believe he's a threat. Of course, we're debating all this in front of the Stylite's servant. No point trying to conceal it in a city of sorcerers, so talking openly at least lets them wonder if it's a triple or quadruple bluff. And Cassius and no doubt the Stylite have been scrying the permutations of the future anyway. Jrska: You got any input on this? Cassius: 'Here, carry this weapon that's been programmed to kill your master. Tell him it's a gift.' GM: The servant's mouth is sewn up. It wasn't before. Jrska: Silver wire sprouted from his lips. GM: Q'sal is good for retconning things like that. One of the city guards 'accidentally' drops a message from the Fourteen Factors - they want BOTH the Artifex and the Stylite dead. Jrska: Quadruple betrayal then. But the big question is will the Factors let us get away alive afterwards? Cassius: I'm wondering that myself. Cassius' divinations revealed that the Stylite's disciples are the biggest complicating factor in whatever is about to go down. The Stylite doesn't seem to like them much either, as he screams and rants at the crowd of fiercely debating acolytes milling around far below his floating platform. The Stylite: Why don't you all just fuck off! Disciple: But what does he actually mean by that? The Stylite: Get off my lawn! There are a few more genuinely cryptic utterances collected and endlessly analysed by the crowd. The Stylite: The black moon rises! Jrska: 'Beware the Ides of Banana.' We also find out what the Stylite used the hologenerator for - he's made his tower invisible, to discourage visitors. What now? And how to deal with the Stylite, if it does come to combat? Cog suggests we acquire a Pariah from somewhere, to cancel out the sorcerer's magic. Slight problem with that plan - those psychic untouchables are anathema to all psykers. Cassius: You bring a pariah anywhere NEAR me and I will find WAYS, I will invent whole new fields of torture, just for you. Jrska distracts the crowd, climbing up to straddle Rold's shoulders and address the multitude. Jrska: He should be glad we're both facing in the same direction. Cassius, Aladar and Cog sidle past towards the invisible tower. Jrska takes advantage of the somewhat ridiculous Khornate crest on Rold's helmet, after she's finished convincing the disciples to go harass the Artifex instead. Jrska: I tap him on the helmet and steer him by the bunny ears over to where I can enjoy a packed lunch. Aladar's player: I've been rolling bloody well this session. Cassius' player: What did you just do?!? Jrska's player: He's broken the universe. Aladar's player: Oh... I just jinxed it didn't I. Cassius' player: Thou shalt not summon the daemon Murphy. The Stylite opens with a sorcerous attack to confuse Cassius, which at least resolves the question of whether or not we're going to negotiate. Cassius responds with excessive violence, and the psychic combat escalates, both using precognition to avoid each other's attacks, and each using every erg of power at their command in increasingly suicidal retaliation. Aladar OoC: Your mind is filled by the eternal question 'what is one half of a pair of pants' Cassius: I use Psychic Scream. Jrska: Ow! He hates the noise already! Cassius: I know > Meanwhile, Cog is searching the basement for the hologenerator. Jrska: 'Where does this extension cord go?' Eventually, the Stylite's head vanishes, and so does Cassius, although the later is due to an attack of Chronological Incontinence. The rest of us have our own problems - Aladar is trying, and failing, to fight off daemonic possession, AND slavery to the Artifex' sword, and the entire tower is collapsing as the sorceries holding it up unravel. Aladar OoC: Oh god, he was a load-bearing Boss This is where things get weird - after Cassius reappears, and the rubble settles, we find Aladar alive and well. And we've all forgotten that the sword was a daemon-weapon. Or that the Artifex insisted will kill the Stylite with it. Jrska: How did you survive that? Aladar: I... Don't.... Know. Jrska OoC: The daemon in his head and the daemon in the sword reached an understanding - one controls his body, the other controls his sword arm. And the daemon in the sword is saying 'drive me closer, I want to hit them with my sword' GM: There's no sign of the guard showing up. Funnily enough. Jrska: They're probably off dealing with the riot at the Artifex's forge XD Cassius invites all the bystanders to get looting, on the condition they help him find the hologenerator. Jrska then intimidates the bystanders into bartering over what they find, which irritates Cassius. Cassius: I said that what they found, was theirs. Jrska: Yes, my lord. And now they can trade with them. Cassius: *grabs Jrska by the throat* But if they're busy trading with you, THEY'RE NOT WORKING FOR ME *hurls her over the rubble pile* Jrska: *sailing away over the pile* My apologies, lord. Aladar also find the Stylite's soul-vault. Aladar: I found his wallet. Cassius decides that now would be a good chance to get away from Q'sal. Preferably hiring the mercenary Gray to transport the enormous hologenerator (and sizeable soul-vault) up to our ship, in return for that cremated Inquisitor's ashes Jrska's been holding on to, 100 slaves, and a favour. Jrska: The Factors want both the Stylite AND the Artifex dead. Cassius: I don't care Jrska: So this is a sextuple betrayal. GM: .... Jesus. *Headdesk* Jrska: You have to admit that is absolutely typical for a Tzeenchian planet. Cassius: We need this transported up to my ship, on the condition that nobody, and that includes your crew, finds out what it is. Gray: Is this going to endanger my ship and crew? Jrska: I can't see any way it can - as long as you don't find out what it is. We get the hell out of Dodge, having backstabbed not only the Artifex, by failing in our mission to kill the Stylite with the appropriate weapon (and then avoiding the sudden and inevitable betrayal afterwards), but the Factors as well, by failing to kill the Artifex. Cassius doesn't care - he thinks they were all morons anyway, and now considers the entire planet expendable. Cassius: Add this planet to the list. Jrska: You don't need no Stupid Evil. Cassius: I'm starting to see myself as a force for evolution. Jrska: Extinction's Angel, my lord. ( RPG system notes - two important characteristics in Black Crusade are experience points -d'uh - and corruption points. As PCs accrue corruption points, they also earn the 'gifts' and actual rewards, from the Chaos Gods. Aladar's player spends his points on the talent Cold-hearted, which makes him jaded, dispassionate... and immune to seduction. It also gives him enough corruption points for a 'gift', and though we don't know it yet a number of his organs have been replaced by daemonic mechanics. Which explains the cold-hearted neatly, but still leaves Jrska pissed off and disturbed by his failure to respond to her attentions.) Jrska: You've changed... I don't like it. Jrska: I brought fresh gerbils! Aladar: Gerbils? Cassius OoC: 'Again?' Cassius' player suggests a few more improvements for Aladar. Cassius' player: We need to up your armed combat skills, and implant you with a Halo Device. Then he'll be a pirate ninja robot alien zombie. In space. Aladar: Well, my motivation is immortality. Cassius' player: And Quick Draw! Cowboy. Cog's been having ideas too. Even if he does invent something epidemiologically interesting, he'll need to get it into the population. Jrska's interest in recreational pharmacology suggests a way. Cog: You could talk them into trying anything. Jrska: I know. It IS my mission to bring sex, drugs, and rock and roll to the Imperium. Cog: Yes. So, if I add my disease to the drugs... and to the addiction treatments... Jrska: Ecstasy cut with anthrax.