Drhoz

WOW ... Queen Euphoria.  That brings back memories.
 
First edition Shadowrun goodness.

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...

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...

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!'

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...

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.

From my G.I. TransformerTech campaign.
 
Discussing G1 Unicron
Wrench (OOC): I’m just imagining Orson Wells crying out “I’m hungry for balls!”
 
GM: You and your naming system. “The Magic Hippie Space Crystal.”
Crash (OOC): It’s short and helps me remember what it is.
 
The base’s rumour mill often speculates on Wrench’s sexuality, usually positing that she’s either a lesbian, or more likely robo-sexual. (She even calls Perceptor, “Percy.”)
Crash (OOC): Wrench just get’s along with cybertronians.
Sunshine (OOC): No surprises there…
GM: Ooh, me-ow!
 
GM: There is a sickening squeal of metal grinding against metal as the Apollo comes to rest between two pieces of Cybertronian… architecture? Geography? You can’t tell.
Sunshine: That looks horribly suggestive.
GM: A classic example of why there is ALWAYS time for lubricant.
 
Crash (OOC): Bad organs, back in your meatsack!
Wrench (OOC): Ladies and Gentleman, (Crash’s player’s) approach to first aid.
Crash (OOC): I so want to build a character who heals through intimidation, now.
 
While exploring a partially revitalized, subterranean (subcybertronean?) section of Cybertron.
Wrench: There’s life here…
Crash: I know. It went for my leg.
 
Discussing Agnes Knitt from Terry Pratchet’s Discworld.
GM: She IS Dolby surround sound.
 
The PCs find an abandoned mine, resulting in them salvaging a very big hammer (a double jack), a mining pick and two energized augers.
Crash (OOC): It’s time to get our murder-hobo on.
 
Player for the next game was calling his brother to see if he was coming and got routed to voice-mail.
Player: Need Dwarf. Bye.

Put enough ranks in Bluff and you don't need Combat Skills

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!'

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!'

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!'

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!'

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

Human made but not Imperial and with a teddy bear in one of the crew quarters, eh? The mind boggles.
 
Another quasi-anarchic situation from DrHoz (or the actual guy gming this). Hats off.
And given it's secretly a "Dark Heresy" campaign, I wonder if these guys will bump into your other DH crew? I'd love to see what happens if Sister Dominique ran into Jrska, ferex.

I shudder to think.

I guess Dhorz would be talking to himself for a while. Shouting too. Is there a word for flirting with death and oneself at the same time?
 
Because judging by this part I think I know who he plays:
"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."

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

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?

Well, I have neither soul nor children, so that's all right. Mind you, Jrska's inventive. I sure she'd find a way.

Best quote from tonight's game, from a Holy Warrior regarding a emotionally-repressed PC:
 
 
Father Winter: "You know, I have Cure Disease. Does it work on Asperger's?"
 
 
- Lonewalker

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?

The reason I like Jrska so much is because she has no inhibitions and no limits at all.