Drhoz

Those don't procreate -- Sam killed them when they tried something.

On Masters of the Universe, and cosplayers

Me: Wow. I don't recall Malificent dressing like that.
Purrdence: I point out that a minute ago you were talking about somebody that went around in a loincloth.
Warhammer's player: And leather straps. Don't forget those

Me: Evidently Prince Adam was going for 'distracting nudity'

Anyway - hot on the trail of two more of the stolen personality chips. One for Cleopatra VII, and the other for Jack the Ripper. We've got a good idea of where they can be found too - one at a party held by the Hollywood exec that was to receive the chips, and the other roaming downtown Seattle murdering streetwalkers. With any luck we can recover both, without embarrassing the creators, but still giving our employer enough rope to hang the executive that arranged the insider-job theft, and the Ripper Chip, in the first place.

Felix: I do wonder how Mains is going to stop Junior doing more damage to the company, even if he does kick him out. Perhaps he'll need to have an accident, and Mr Mains will think fondly of us. 'He fell down an elevator shaft - onto some bullets.'

GM: You don't have any women in your party do you?
Felix: Well, we can always put the troll in a dress.

Felix: If we need a plus-one for the party... Or more to the point, somebody to use as bait for the Ripper... we're back to the troll in a dress.

Felix: Skill chips would be unisex I'd think. But I expect some would be gender-limited. 'Interesting things to do with ping-pong balls' for example.

Felix: It's an exercise in pessimism - If you think about all the ways a job can go wrong, for one thing you end up pleasantly surprised by the end of the day. But I'm thinking that we might be looking for a male killer, when the chip is in a woman.

We ask Freya, the runner who got abandoned by her fellow thieves during the original hiest, if she's up to acting as bait. She is, if she gets a chance at revenge on her former teammates. Of course, even with three of us watching her from rooftops, cars, and alleyways with rifles, pistols, and magic at the ready, there's still the difficulty of differentiating between the Ripper, and people actually trying to negotiate Freya's attention.

Felix: We wait until Freya takes them into the alley, stun them, then go through their pockets. Just to be sure they're not the Ripper, you know.
Inkubus: I think I'm on the wrong team - you guys could really use my Orgasm spell right now.

GM: It truly is a miserable night.
Felix: It's Seattle, they all are.

The thick fog that rolls in doesn't help. No does the fact that the Ripper is Freya's former teammate, heavily cyber-enhanced, and faster than the first few bullets. Luckily for us, he doesn't dodge everything, although we do have to rush to get the chip out before the paramedic evac team turn up to rescue their client. Hopefully they'll be able to treat a badly fried brain, but we can't hang around. We have to meet Inkubus at the party.

Felix: Evidently when you yelled Go Go Go! I spilled the thermos on my lap

Felix: They keep calling me Bubbles. I can't think why.
Warhammer: It's your personality coming out
Labrat: Or what you have in common with Michael Jackson. Forever blowing Bubbles.
Felix: Glare.
Inkubus: You'll notice I didn't say that.

Of course, only the troll is dressed well enough to get in to assist Inkubus. But how will they get out, with the target?

Felix: Bond, James Bond. Pack the sniper rifle in an inconspicuous case, and stroll back into the party. They didn't even notice you were gone.

Felix: He's an elf, he'll probably run down the side of the building.
GM: This is Shadowrun, not Bubblegum Crisis.
Inkubus: And I don't have Levitate.
Labrat: And he's not the Fucking Elf-Man.

The party is loud, debauched, and has lots of strobe lighting.

Felix: And this is how we discover the other side-effect of the dreamchips. Photosensitive Epilepsy.

Felix: I don't want to know what you do when I'm out of town.
Inkubus: I spend about a grand on cleaners.

GM: You overhear a conversation.
Felix: 'I know! I know! That's why I'm getting my testicles laminated!'

Inkubus: I resist the chance to become a porn star. Yes, let's send the most debauched character that has to keep resisting temptation to a party like this.
Labrat: You DID volunteer for this pat of the mission.
Inkubus: I know, I know...

GM: They have a room with actual food.
Felix: I'm regretting not going now.
GM: They even have real tuna.
Inkubus: I'm not resisting THAT

Teehee's old teacher is at the party - alarming, given we told him to lay low. But it's possible he's merely here to run the simsense machines, for the extra income.

Felix: What?!
Inkubus: Whatwhatwhat?!

Inkubus tries to charm Cleo away from her Hollywood date. It doesn't work. We hope the exec's triumphant smile is merely over the sexual conquest, and not because he recognises a foiled snatch operation when he sees one.

Warhammer: This is so going to hurt your ego, Inkubus

Tailing the couple back to their yacht is tricky too, even with an Orgy spell leaving the pair rather frisky. For one thing the driver recognises the pursuit, and Inkubus is forced to call up spiritual trackers. We barely reach the dock in time - Felix's stunball doesn't knock them out, but does, in conjunction with the earlier spell, leave Cleo and the exec pawing each other's clothes off as they cast off.

Felix: What happened to their driver?
GM: He's driven off - his job is done for the night
Felix: Plus a Ford Americar screamed past him, and a mad dwarf jumped out and leaped off the end of the dock.
Labrat: And at the other end of the dock a Land Rover screeched to a halt and a Ork got out with a very large rifle.
Warhammer: I bet he's glad his job is done for the night.

Labrat shoots out the boat's engine, Warhammer leaps aboard, and deals with the exec's bodyguards. When the rest of us hurry aboard, we find the exec and Cleo passed out and naked from their strenuous bedroom gymnastics, and move to get Cleo back to the hotel where we're keeping the chip designer, Teehee.

Felix: There's one silver lining to everybody dying when we rip out the chip - it helps keep the secret.
Inkubus: Of course, I'd consider it a crime against nature if Cleo dies.
Warhammer: Eh, necrophilia isn't that bad.

Felix: The hotel might complain if we bring a naked woman and an unconscious elf in.
GM: Which is why you bring a rug.
Felix: Yes! A rolled-up carpet over our shoulders!
Warhammer: *High five*

Labrat manages to get the chip out without frying Cleo's synapses. Good news! The dreamchips only have a 66% mortality rate - the corporation will be pleased. But we still need to get the chips, Cleo, and Teehee,and the rest of the evidence, back to our corporate contact. The carpet again, as another nod to the original Cleopatra?

Inkubus: Two carpets. I did leave a bottle of very expensive scotch with Teehee. He's not going anywhere without help.

Miss Winter, our 'Johnson': Why is she naked?
Inkubus: She was like that when we found her.

We collect our pay, hand over our itemised expense account, and get a very sizeable bonus as well. And Inkubus scores a date with Miss Winter.

Felix: So, what sort of dinner party should we have to celebrate our successful run?
Inkubus: I think this should be one of yours.
 

Cassius has certain views about his subordinates, the other PCs. But Cog is a puzzle.

Cassius: Jrska, the Degenerate. Aladar the Fop, Rold the Attack Dog, Batholomeas the Dandy, and then there's you, Cog. I don't have anything for you. You're just around, doing your job.

Cog has been thinking about inventive applications of his medical know-how. In particular, biological warfare. With the aid of Nurgle, Chaos god of plague and decay, he should be able to come up with some really interesting pandemics.

Jrska: I'll help you with the rituals - I'll dress as a sexy nurse.

But on with the situation in Surgub, on Q'sal, where the rulers are busy and the lesser sorcerers are plotting. One of them has hired us to kill a rival. Even if this wasn't a planet dedicated to Tzeench, God of Change, this is an obvious set-up for a double-cross, and it only waits to see how many layers can be added to the plot.

Jrska: I'm certain there's a quadruple-cross planned, at least.
Cog: We'll probably find out they're working together to have us killed.
Jrska: How much do you want to bet the Stylite wants us to kill somebody else, and THEY want us to kill the Artifex?

And of course, there's the new PC 'Bartholomeas Jones' who claims to be on the run from his own marine chapter. We don't believe this, but will play along for now.

Jrska: Let's keep him at arm's length - Rold's arm length, preferably holding that soul-eating daemonsword of his.

Jrska: Think the Stylite will hire us to kill the Artifex, or just kill us?
Cassius: Flip a coin, basically.
Cog: It'll land on its side, given where we are.
Jrska: Or turn into a banana.

Perhaps we can find a way to complete the exact wording of the contract, if not the spirit.

Jrska: They do call an orgasm a little death... Maybe if i give the Stylite lots of orgasms?
Aladar: You'd need at least a thousand. You couldn't do it in the time we have left.
Jrska: I take that bet!

And of course there's the matter of the murder weapon, a daemon-sword crafted by the Artifex. None of us are willing to carry it, since daemon-weapons are notorious for seizing control of their bearers, and half of us already have other weapons that would get jealous.

Jrska: We'll let Aladar carry it - he's obviously incompetent, no-one will believe he's a threat.

Of course, we're debating all this in front of the Stylite's servant. No point trying to conceal it in a city of sorcerers, so talking openly at least lets them wonder if it's a triple or quadruple bluff. And Cassius and no doubt the Stylite have been scrying the permutations of the future anyway.

Jrska: You got any input on this?
Cassius: 'Here, carry this weapon that's been programmed to kill your master. Tell him it's a gift.'
GM: The servant's mouth is sewn up. It wasn't before.
Jrska: Silver wire sprouted from his lips.
GM: Q'sal is good for retconning things like that.

One of the city guards 'accidentally' drops a message from the Fourteen Factors - they want BOTH the Artifex and the Stylite dead.

Jrska: Quadruple betrayal then. But the big question is will the Factors let us get away alive afterwards?
Cassius: I'm wondering that myself.

Cassius' divinations revealed that the Stylite's disciples are the biggest complicating factor in whatever is about to go down. The Stylite doesn't seem to like them much either, as he screams and rants at the crowd of fiercely debating acolytes milling around far below his floating platform.

The Stylite: Why don't you all just fuck off!
Disciple: But what does he actually mean by that?
The Stylite: Get off my lawn!

There are a few more genuinely cryptic utterances collected and endlessly analysed by the crowd.

The Stylite: The black moon rises!
Jrska: 'Beware the Ides of Banana.'

We also find out what the Stylite used the hologenerator for - he's made his tower invisible, to discourage visitors. What now? And how to deal with the Stylite, if it does come to combat? Cog suggests we acquire a Pariah from somewhere, to cancel out the sorcerer's magic. Slight problem with that plan - those psychic untouchables are anathema to all psykers.

Cassius: You bring a pariah anywhere NEAR me and I will find WAYS, I will invent whole new fields of torture, just for you.

Jrska distracts the crowd, climbing up to straddle Rold's shoulders and address the multitude.

Jrska: He should be glad we're both facing in the same direction.

Cassius, Aladar and Cog sidle past towards the invisible tower. Jrska takes advantage of the somewhat ridiculous Khornate crest on Rold's helmet, after she's finished convincing the disciples to go harass the Artifex instead.

Jrska: I tap him on the helmet and steer him by the bunny ears over to where I can enjoy a packed lunch.

Aladar's player: I've been rolling bloody well this session.
Cassius' player: What did you just do?!?
Jrska's player: He's broken the universe.
Aladar's player: Oh... I just jinxed it didn't I.
Cassius' player: Thou shalt not summon the daemon Murphy.

The Stylite opens with a sorcerous attack to confuse Cassius, which at least resolves the question of whether or not we're going to negotiate. Cassius responds with excessive violence, and the psychic combat escalates, both using precognition to avoid each other's attacks, and each using every erg of power at their command in increasingly suicidal retaliation.

Aladar OoC: Your mind is filled by the eternal question 'what is one half of a pair of pants'

Cassius: I use Psychic Scream.
Jrska: Ow! He hates the noise already!
Cassius: I know >

Meanwhile, Cog is searching the basement for the hologenerator.

Jrska: 'Where does this extension cord go?'

Eventually, the Stylite's head vanishes, and so does Cassius, although the later is due to an attack of Chronological Incontinence. The rest of us have our own problems - Aladar is trying, and failing, to fight off daemonic possession, AND slavery to the Artifex' sword, and the entire tower is collapsing as the sorceries holding it up unravel.

Aladar OoC: Oh god, he was a load-bearing Boss

This is where things get weird - after Cassius reappears, and the rubble settles, we find Aladar alive and well. And we've all forgotten that the sword was a daemon-weapon. Or that the Artifex insisted will kill the Stylite with it.

Jrska: How did you survive that?
Aladar: I... Don't.... Know.

Jrska OoC: The daemon in his head and the daemon in the sword reached an understanding - one controls his body, the other controls his sword arm. And the daemon in the sword is saying 'drive me closer, I want to hit them with my sword'

GM: There's no sign of the guard showing up. Funnily enough.
Jrska: They're probably off dealing with the riot at the Artifex's forge XD

Cassius invites all the bystanders to get looting, on the condition they help him find the hologenerator. Jrska then intimidates the bystanders into bartering over what they find, which irritates Cassius.

Cassius: I said that what they found, was theirs.
Jrska: Yes, my lord. And now they can trade with them.
Cassius: *grabs Jrska by the throat* But if they're busy trading with you, THEY'RE NOT WORKING FOR ME *hurls her over the rubble pile*
Jrska: *sailing away over the pile* My apologies, lord.

Aladar also find the Stylite's soul-vault.

Aladar: I found his wallet.

Cassius decides that now would be a good chance to get away from Q'sal. Preferably hiring the mercenary Gray to transport the enormous hologenerator (and sizeable soul-vault) up to our ship, in return for that cremated Inquisitor's ashes Jrska's been holding on to, 100 slaves, and a favour.

Jrska: The Factors want both the Stylite AND the Artifex dead.
Cassius: I don't care
Jrska: So this is a sextuple betrayal.
GM: .... Jesus. *Headdesk*
Jrska: You have to admit that is absolutely typical for a Tzeenchian planet.

Cassius: We need this transported up to my ship, on the condition that nobody, and that includes your crew, finds out what it is.
Gray: Is this going to endanger my ship and crew?
Jrska: I can't see any way it can - as long as you don't find out what it is.

We get the hell out of Dodge, having backstabbed not only the Artifex, by failing in our mission to kill the Stylite with the appropriate weapon (and then avoiding the sudden and inevitable betrayal afterwards), but the Factors as well, by failing to kill the Artifex. Cassius doesn't care - he thinks they were all morons anyway, and now considers the entire planet expendable.

Cassius: Add this planet to the list.
Jrska: You don't need no Stupid Evil.
Cassius: I'm starting to see myself as a force for evolution.
Jrska: Extinction's Angel, my lord.

( RPG system notes - two important characteristics in Black Crusade are experience points -d'uh - and corruption points. As PCs accrue corruption points, they also earn the 'gifts' and actual rewards, from the Chaos Gods. Aladar's player spends his points on the talent Cold-hearted, which makes him jaded, dispassionate... and immune to seduction. It also gives him enough corruption points for a 'gift', and though we don't know it yet a number of his organs have been replaced by daemonic mechanics. Which explains the cold-hearted neatly, but still leaves Jrska pissed off and disturbed by his failure to respond to her attentions.)

Jrska: You've changed... I don't like it.

Jrska: I brought fresh gerbils!
Aladar: Gerbils?
Cassius OoC: 'Again?'

Cassius' player suggests a few more improvements for Aladar.

Cassius' player: We need to up your armed combat skills, and implant you with a Halo Device. Then he'll be a pirate ninja robot alien zombie. In space.
Aladar: Well, my motivation is immortality.
Cassius' player: And Quick Draw! Cowboy.

Cog's been having ideas too. Even if he does invent something epidemiologically interesting, he'll need to get it into the population. Jrska's interest in recreational pharmacology suggests a way.

Cog: You could talk them into trying anything.
Jrska: I know. It IS my mission to bring sex, drugs, and rock and roll to the Imperium.
Cog: Yes. So, if I add my disease to the drugs... and to the addiction treatments...
Jrska: Ecstasy cut with anthrax.

Cassius has certain views about his subordinates, the other PCs. But Cog is a puzzle.

Cassius: Jrska, the Degenerate. Aladar the Fop, Rold the Attack Dog, Batholomeas the Dandy, and then there's you, Cog. I don't have anything for you. You're just around, doing your job.

Cog has been thinking about inventive applications of his medical know-how. In particular, biological warfare. With the aid of Nurgle, Chaos god of plague and decay, he should be able to come up with some really interesting pandemics.

Jrska: I'll help you with the rituals - I'll dress as a sexy nurse.

But on with the situation in Surgub, on Q'sal, where the rulers are busy and the lesser sorcerers are plotting. One of them has hired us to kill a rival. Even if this wasn't a planet dedicated to Tzeench, God of Change, this is an obvious set-up for a double-cross, and it only waits to see how many layers can be added to the plot.

Jrska: I'm certain there's a quadruple-cross planned, at least.
Cog: We'll probably find out they're working together to have us killed.
Jrska: How much do you want to bet the Stylite wants us to kill somebody else, and THEY want us to kill the Artifex?

And of course, there's the new PC 'Bartholomeas Jones' who claims to be on the run from his own marine chapter. We don't believe this, but will play along for now.

Jrska: Let's keep him at arm's length - Rold's arm length, preferably holding that soul-eating daemonsword of his.

Jrska: Think the Stylite will hire us to kill the Artifex, or just kill us?
Cassius: Flip a coin, basically.
Cog: It'll land on its side, given where we are.
Jrska: Or turn into a banana.

Perhaps we can find a way to complete the exact wording of the contract, if not the spirit.

Jrska: They do call an orgasm a little death... Maybe if i give the Stylite lots of orgasms?
Aladar: You'd need at least a thousand. You couldn't do it in the time we have left.
Jrska: I take that bet!

And of course there's the matter of the murder weapon, a daemon-sword crafted by the Artifex. None of us are willing to carry it, since daemon-weapons are notorious for seizing control of their bearers, and half of us already have other weapons that would get jealous.

Jrska: We'll let Aladar carry it - he's obviously incompetent, no-one will believe he's a threat.

Of course, we're debating all this in front of the Stylite's servant. No point trying to conceal it in a city of sorcerers, so talking openly at least lets them wonder if it's a triple or quadruple bluff. And Cassius and no doubt the Stylite have been scrying the permutations of the future anyway.

Jrska: You got any input on this?
Cassius: 'Here, carry this weapon that's been programmed to kill your master. Tell him it's a gift.'
GM: The servant's mouth is sewn up. It wasn't before.
Jrska: Silver wire sprouted from his lips.
GM: Q'sal is good for retconning things like that.

One of the city guards 'accidentally' drops a message from the Fourteen Factors - they want BOTH the Artifex and the Stylite dead.

Jrska: Quadruple betrayal then. But the big question is will the Factors let us get away alive afterwards?
Cassius: I'm wondering that myself.

Cassius' divinations revealed that the Stylite's disciples are the biggest complicating factor in whatever is about to go down. The Stylite doesn't seem to like them much either, as he screams and rants at the crowd of fiercely debating acolytes milling around far below his floating platform.

The Stylite: Why don't you all just fuck off!
Disciple: But what does he actually mean by that?
The Stylite: Get off my lawn!

There are a few more genuinely cryptic utterances collected and endlessly analysed by the crowd.

The Stylite: The black moon rises!
Jrska: 'Beware the Ides of Banana.'

We also find out what the Stylite used the hologenerator for - he's made his tower invisible, to discourage visitors. What now? And how to deal with the Stylite, if it does come to combat? Cog suggests we acquire a Pariah from somewhere, to cancel out the sorcerer's magic. Slight problem with that plan - those psychic untouchables are anathema to all psykers.

Cassius: You bring a pariah anywhere NEAR me and I will find WAYS, I will invent whole new fields of torture, just for you.

Jrska distracts the crowd, climbing up to straddle Rold's shoulders and address the multitude.

Jrska: He should be glad we're both facing in the same direction.

Cassius, Aladar and Cog sidle past towards the invisible tower. Jrska takes advantage of the somewhat ridiculous Khornate crest on Rold's helmet, after she's finished convincing the disciples to go harass the Artifex instead.

Jrska: I tap him on the helmet and steer him by the bunny ears over to where I can enjoy a packed lunch.

Aladar's player: I've been rolling bloody well this session.
Cassius' player: What did you just do?!?
Jrska's player: He's broken the universe.
Aladar's player: Oh... I just jinxed it didn't I.
Cassius' player: Thou shalt not summon the daemon Murphy.

The Stylite opens with a sorcerous attack to confuse Cassius, which at least resolves the question of whether or not we're going to negotiate. Cassius responds with excessive violence, and the psychic combat escalates, both using precognition to avoid each other's attacks, and each using every erg of power at their command in increasingly suicidal retaliation.

Aladar OoC: Your mind is filled by the eternal question 'what is one half of a pair of pants'

Cassius: I use Psychic Scream.
Jrska: Ow! He hates the noise already!
Cassius: I know >

Meanwhile, Cog is searching the basement for the hologenerator.

Jrska: 'Where does this extension cord go?'

Eventually, the Stylite's head vanishes, and so does Cassius, although the later is due to an attack of Chronological Incontinence. The rest of us have our own problems - Aladar is trying, and failing, to fight off daemonic possession, AND slavery to the Artifex' sword, and the entire tower is collapsing as the sorceries holding it up unravel.

Aladar OoC: Oh god, he was a load-bearing Boss

This is where things get weird - after Cassius reappears, and the rubble settles, we find Aladar alive and well. And we've all forgotten that the sword was a daemon-weapon. Or that the Artifex insisted will kill the Stylite with it.

Jrska: How did you survive that?
Aladar: I... Don't.... Know.

Jrska OoC: The daemon in his head and the daemon in the sword reached an understanding - one controls his body, the other controls his sword arm. And the daemon in the sword is saying 'drive me closer, I want to hit them with my sword'

GM: There's no sign of the guard showing up. Funnily enough.
Jrska: They're probably off dealing with the riot at the Artifex's forge XD

Cassius invites all the bystanders to get looting, on the condition they help him find the hologenerator. Jrska then intimidates the bystanders into bartering over what they find, which irritates Cassius.

Cassius: I said that what they found, was theirs.
Jrska: Yes, my lord. And now they can trade with them.
Cassius: *grabs Jrska by the throat* But if they're busy trading with you, THEY'RE NOT WORKING FOR ME *hurls her over the rubble pile*
Jrska: *sailing away over the pile* My apologies, lord.

Aladar also find the Stylite's soul-vault.

Aladar: I found his wallet.

Cassius decides that now would be a good chance to get away from Q'sal. Preferably hiring the mercenary Gray to transport the enormous hologenerator (and sizeable soul-vault) up to our ship, in return for that cremated Inquisitor's ashes Jrska's been holding on to, 100 slaves, and a favour.

Jrska: The Factors want both the Stylite AND the Artifex dead.
Cassius: I don't care
Jrska: So this is a sextuple betrayal.
GM: .... Jesus. *Headdesk*
Jrska: You have to admit that is absolutely typical for a Tzeenchian planet.

Cassius: We need this transported up to my ship, on the condition that nobody, and that includes your crew, finds out what it is.
Gray: Is this going to endanger my ship and crew?
Jrska: I can't see any way it can - as long as you don't find out what it is.

We get the hell out of Dodge, having backstabbed not only the Artifex, by failing in our mission to kill the Stylite with the appropriate weapon (and then avoiding the sudden and inevitable betrayal afterwards), but the Factors as well, by failing to kill the Artifex. Cassius doesn't care - he thinks they were all morons anyway, and now considers the entire planet expendable.

Cassius: Add this planet to the list.
Jrska: You don't need no Stupid Evil.
Cassius: I'm starting to see myself as a force for evolution.
Jrska: Extinction's Angel, my lord.

( RPG system notes - two important characteristics in Black Crusade are experience points -d'uh - and corruption points. As PCs accrue corruption points, they also earn the 'gifts' and actual rewards, from the Chaos Gods. Aladar's player spends his points on the talent Cold-hearted, which makes him jaded, dispassionate... and immune to seduction. It also gives him enough corruption points for a 'gift', and though we don't know it yet a number of his organs have been replaced by daemonic mechanics. Which explains the cold-hearted neatly, but still leaves Jrska pissed off and disturbed by his failure to respond to her attentions.)

Jrska: You've changed... I don't like it.

Jrska: I brought fresh gerbils!
Aladar: Gerbils?
Cassius OoC: 'Again?'

Cassius' player suggests a few more improvements for Aladar.

Cassius' player: We need to up your armed combat skills, and implant you with a Halo Device. Then he'll be a pirate ninja robot alien zombie. In space.
Aladar: Well, my motivation is immortality.
Cassius' player: And Quick Draw! Cowboy.

Cog's been having ideas too. Even if he does invent something epidemiologically interesting, he'll need to get it into the population. Jrska's interest in recreational pharmacology suggests a way.

Cog: You could talk them into trying anything.
Jrska: I know. It IS my mission to bring sex, drugs, and rock and roll to the Imperium.
Cog: Yes. So, if I add my disease to the drugs... and to the addiction treatments...
Jrska: Ecstasy cut with anthrax.

Purrdence back from her month in the US. Among the places she visited, Madame Tussauds in NYC
 

Purrdence: "I kept thinking I was in the way of someone's photo, then turning around and going 'no, that's a wax model of Andy Warhol'. It was a bit creepy actually."


She also went to see a van Gogh exhibition. Given the excellent Dr Who episode "Vincent and the Doctor", some things were probably inevitable.



Purrdence: I kept looking around for the Doctor, and he wasn't there.
Me: Well, it was an excellent episode
Purrdence: I know. I can't hear Starry Starry Night without crying. Which is a bit embarrassing at the post office.


The daughters of one of her friends were quite impressed by her too, especially she used her Teacher Voice on them



"More scary than Mom."

I was wondering how she'd handle the change from NYC, which was suffering Winter Storm Janus and -30C windchill when she left, but she spent a day in LA, which was suffering a 30+ heatwave (in January!!!!!) so Perth was actually slightly colder when she got home.

Purrdence back from her month in the US. Among the places she visited, Madame Tussauds in NYC
 

Purrdence: "I kept thinking I was in the way of someone's photo, then turning around and going 'no, that's a wax model of Andy Warhol'. It was a bit creepy actually."


She also went to see a van Gogh exhibition. Given the excellent Dr Who episode "Vincent and the Doctor", some things were probably inevitable.



Purrdence: I kept looking around for the Doctor, and he wasn't there.
Me: Well, it was an excellent episode
Purrdence: I know. I can't hear Starry Starry Night without crying. Which is a bit embarrassing at the post office.


The daughters of one of her friends were quite impressed by her too, especially she used her Teacher Voice on them



"More scary than Mom."

I was wondering how she'd handle the change from NYC, which was suffering Winter Storm Janus and -30C windchill when she left, but she spent a day in LA, which was suffering a 30+ heatwave (in January!!!!!) so Perth was actually slightly colder when she got home.

Van, the player of Agent Rondale, Lord Frontbottom and Mad Dok Madison,is back. He'll be playing another Space Marine renegade in the entourage of Lord Cassius. And since he'll be Tzeench-aligned, we only have to have Aladar or Cog dedicate themselves to Nurgle to have the full set.

One other thing we have to do is find that dead Inquisitor's Rosette of Office, a potent symbol of authority in the Imperium, and that will certainly help us intimidate Imperials into handing over any psykers they have lying around, along with anything else we take a fancy to. It should be on the ship somewhere, but given that the ship is over a kilometre long and 400 metres deep, it's going to be quite a search.

Cog: We could turn the gravity off, shake the ship, and see what falls out.
Jrska: Or take it down to the chop shop and have the suspension altered - DOOF DOOF DOOF

Mr Batholomeas Jones OoC: It was under the couch the whole time!

Cassius has a plan regarding that demon accidentally tethered to his force staff. Careful probing has identified it as a Greater Deamon of Khorne, and an embodiment of arrogance. This probably explains how it got trapped in the first place.

Cassius: I shall call it Carlos.

Our gracious host at the Universe-class flying shipyard didn't press home his advantage and obliterate his rival. Apparently the two have spent centuries repeatedly waiting until the other has discovered something interesting, then stealing it. They also start brushfire wars, just to test new weapons on the cannon fodder.

Jrska: Magos-farming!
Rold: It's sustainable!

The ship's auspex array is finally repaired and rebooted

Cassius: Yay, we're not flying blind anymore!

rebooted Auspex console: 'It looks like you're trying to destroy the Imperium - would you like help with that?'
Cassius: Clippy is a demon

The time on the shipyard also lets up rebuild the crew. Indeed, Jrska is kept very busy assessing everybody that turns up at the airlock saying "gissa a job". One in particularly stands out - a Space Marine, with a coterie of humans, most of them children, and a family dog, in tow.

Jrska: A space marine with a family? I'm filing this one under 'dangerously deranged'

And, indeed, this 'Mr Bartholomeas Jones' claims that he abandoned the Imperium in order to better protect his family. Given that space marines are supposed to have no interest in that sort of thing, and he had to flee into the Screaming Vortex to protect himself and his family from the Imperium as a result, Jrska understandably bites her tongue, and saves laughing herself sick for later. They give him a tour of the ship, although nobody actually trusts him as far as they can spit him.

Jrska: I don't know what you're worried about, I like children. A few baby carrots, some scalloped potatoes...
Mr Batholomeas Jones: Do you know how much force it takes to pulverise someone's head with a power cane? Surprisingly little!

Jrska: And here we have the slave pits.
*Chorus of agonised screaming*
Cassius: Sorry, we're still training the choir.

Jrska also invites various traders, merchants, and slavers aboard for a dinner party and to pump them for information. Aladar, who Jrska is using for furniture, takes notes.

Jrska: Get all that, sweety?
Aladar van Rijn: Yes, mistress.

Cassius also purchases various devices used by Space Marine Apothecaries, the medics that collect the progenoid glands from fallen marines, and has that genetek lab we found on Sacgrave transported to the Chains of Judgement and installed. He's deadly serious about starting his own chapter, and do to that he'll need to harvest a lot of geneseed.

Mr Batholomeas Jones: I've noticed some of your recent purchases, and I hope it has nothing to do with my presence on board? Care to share?

Then off to meet the Stryxis traders. Too put it mildly, even with all the repairs to the ship, it's not a neat arrival. Both Aladar's piloting and Jrska's attention to the auspex readouts leave much to be desired.

Jrska: I do wonder what I was doing when as I failed that perception check.
Cassius: We don't want to know!
Rold: It might be related to why Aladar failed his piloting check.
Cassius: We don't want to know!
Jrska: Sorry, Aladar was being particularly talented today. *pats his head* Good boy.
Aladar van Rijn: I think I need to be flying now.
Jrska: You already got me floating.

GM: You seem to be hitting gravity waves, which your auspex operator is having trouble detecting.
Jrska: Did anybody else feel the earth move?

Cassius: I may be the master of this ship, but I see most of you as my equals.
Jrska: Thank you, my lord.
Cassius: I said most of you.

The Stryxis don't have any holographic ship disguises in stock at the moment, but will sell us the information on who they sold their last two to, in return for 1000 of our Mammonite slaves, which they keep referring to as meat. This is disturbing (to some), but then, so is how we got those slaves in the first place, and the situation on Mammon, which Rold describes as "The Screaming Vortex's most popular reality show."

Mr Batholomeas Jones: This is incredibly sick.
Jrska: Thankyou, my lord.

Mr Batholomeas Jones: I've never heard of a Slaaneshi cultist trying to seduce someone's ego before
Jrska: 'Don't worry, three inches is perfectly normal'

Jrska: Enhanced human meat! I'll just head down and have them well-oiled.

Jrska: Would you like them gift-wrapped?

Cassius: Jrska is my seneschal.
Jrska: It must be my charming smile.

Both holo-fields were sold to residents of Q'sal, the Sorcerers' World. Naturally, the reaction of the locals when we turn up in a ship still covered in Inquisitorial symbols is to immediately move to blow us out of the sky.

Jrska: *Grab Cog, rip my shirt off, whisper 'play along' and clutch him to my chest, THEN turn on the pict-caster*
Cog: Sigh.
Jrska: Greetings from the Chains of Judgement! Formerly a ship of the Inquisition, now a place of much more fun. Keep doing that. Good boy.

As it happens, the opposing cruiser is commanded by Grey, the Khornate ex-Guardsman, and probably the closest thing to a reliable mercenary that the Vortex has. Khorne DOES have martial honour as one of his aspects, after all. He was also Jones' transport into the Vortex.

Cassius: *shoving Jrska out if the way* Grey?
Jrska: Do that thing with your mechadendrites! Yes! Yes!
Cog: I extract myself from her cleavage.
Jrska: Awwwww.

Mr Batholomeas Jones: You remember me? Jones? And Mrs Jones?
Jrska: And all the little joneses.

We make our way down to the city of Surgub, where all the people are young and beautiful, where magic is so prevalent that orgone spirals around the thousand glittering towers and makes Jrska's nipples perk up, and the entire population lives in dread of the Fourteen Factors, who are currently in conference to decide what arbitrary rules they're going to inflict on the population next.

According to one gazetteer - "The city of Surgub is built on an island in the bay of the great river Crelix and claims to be the oldest settlement of Q’sal—a claim hotly refuted by Tarnor and Velklir. Surgub is ruled over by fourteen Factors with palaces in the highest steeples of the city. They meet in a strict pattern according to lunar phases. By their decree, any action that might distract them from their deliberations at such times is punishable by death, banishment, or reward according to their whimsy-a decision ordinarily made according to the manner of business they were attending to. In the past, infractions have been recorded for a multitude of activities including whistling, not whistling, riotous public assembly, incontinent verbosity, unwelcome eruptions, and snark."

This party is in trouble, then.

Such times, of course, are the opportunity for the lesser sorcerers - all extremely potent compared to anybody else - to make their powerplays against their various paranoid rivals. Which is what we promptly get caught up in, since the holo-fields we want have been purchased by the Artifex and the Stylite, and the Artifex wants wants his ranting rival dead. The Artifex sends sends one of his clanking half-mechanical constructs to find us and lead us through the non-Euclidean architecture of Surgub. It's complicated by the fact that it's almost blatantly setting us up for betrayal, the Stylite is surrounded by hordes of followers, and the city guard already have us under observation.

Mr Batholomeas Jones: We are Lords Cassius and Jone-
Jrska: *Expression of total outrage that Jones is pre-empting her role as Herald, and turning to Cassius for support*
Cassius: Take it up with him.

Cog: You need lubrication, brother.
Jrska: I'll help.

Cyborg: You. Arrrre. From. The. Chains. Of Judgement?
Jrska: Yes. We. Arrrre.....
All:
Jrska: What? You have to talk to them in their own idiom.

Jrska: Does everyone remember where we parked?
Cassius: In orbit. And us without a lighter.
Jrska: We have a problem, don't we, my lord?

Cog: Bloody demonologists.
Jrska: Get used to it, sweety.
Cog: Not in this lifetime.
Jrska: Oh sweety... One day you'll look back on this and laugh. Or someone will laugh, anyway.

Jones screws up the introductions, by misnaming Aladar as Master of the ship. This gives Jrska some satisfaction that her rival is incompetent, and infuriates Cassius.

The Artifex: You do not know yourselves, you bicker among yourselves, why should I trust you?
Jrska: It's his first day.
Mr Batholomeas Jones:
Rold: *snrk*

We convince the Artifex that if it is a betrayal, or a double-cross, or a triple-cross, or a sting operation, then there's obviously so few levels of duplicity that any true devotee of Tzeench, like Jones, or the residents of Q'sal, couldn't possibly go along with it. Of course, such an argument could all be part of the ploy too, but as long as everybody knows that everybody is involved in byzantine, convoluted, and deranged plotting, then we can at least bargain on a level footing.

Cassius: Jones is of Tzeench, and wouldn't allow such an amateurish betrayal.

The Artifex offers us deamon weapons for the task, and as a reward for killing the Stylite with one of the Artifex's own weapons, on top of the holo-field genrator, which he was planning to incorporate into one of his deamon-engines. He has no idea why the Stylite wanted one, but if he does, than obviously the Artifex had to get one too. The Artifex is intrigued by the deamon tethered to Cassius' weapon. Of course, that deamon, being of Khorne, and finding itself in the tower of a Tzeenchian forgemaster that binds deamons into weapons and machines for a living, must be shitting his metaphorical pants right now.

Rold: If we had a bleep track it would sound like Morse Code.

Jrska: This Roomba has a bound Deamonette. That's why it's trying to hump your leg.

The Artifex: This weapon and the deamon bound within will serve you for a thousand and one days.
Jrska: Q'sal days?
The Artifex: ....
Mr Batholomeas Jones: That's a good question.
Jrska: I know. You wouldn't want it to be some millisecond pulsar somewhere.

So, fully aware that we've set ourselves up for a sudden and inevitable betrayal, we make our plans. Jrska proposes that she and Cog distract the Stylite's minions, while the others fly up to finish the ranting 'hermit' off.

Jrska: We'll put on a show. Cyber-tassels. They can reach 400 rpm

Mr Batholomeas Jones: Did he give us a time limit on this job?
Rold: 1001 days.
Mr Batholomeas Jones: .... True.

The Artifex OoC: If you want, I can put this deamon into a fork.
Jrska OoC: Salad fork.of +4

And, of course, the local cops promptly investigate Cassius' attempts at divining the future, although they are careful not to come within 50 feet, just like the rest of us. We'll have to pay a fine of one hundred human souls, the currency of choice on Q'sal, for disturbing the local aether without a permit.

Jrska: And will this payment go into the city coffers, or you own?
Guard: ... Yes.

The side effects of Cassius' investigation into Things That Men Are Not Wont To Know include the sudden death of a nearby tree, which then turns into a chicken. Or, more likely, back into a chicken, since its raucous crowing is probably what got it turned into a tree in the first place.

GM: A window opens on a nearby building, and a hand emerges to fire a fireball at the offending rooster. Chicken McNuggets rain down across the street.
Mr Batholomeas Jones: *holding his cocker spaniel back* Down boy! Not for you!

And then one of the Stylite's minions meets us - HE wants to talk to us as well. Anyone care to guess whether he wants us to kill the Artifex? Our efforts to get the holo-field, so we can reach that alien beacon guarded by Ultramarines, is becoming increasingly convoluted. As befits any plan touched by Tzeench, the Architect of Fate.

Jrska: Well, there's no hurry - the Ultramarines have probably spent the last 10,000 years sitting around polishing their helmets.

This is the guy who does Cthulhu ala Dr. Seuss.

But he only wants to help you. Regardless with what:
 
 

Great Historic Photographs

The PCs are trading fire with a couple soldiers who have us pinned down.
 
Dan: I wait for one of them to stick his head up, and then I pop it off.
 
Attack Roll: 3.  House Ruled to double damage.  Hit Location: 4. Head. Double Damage.  Damage 2d6K Roll: 11.
 
Table: 
 
Dan: I said, 'I wait for one of them to stick his head up, and then I pop it off.'

Sitrep: We've been hired to recover a set of experimental skillchips. The thief has plugged one into his own head, thinks and acts like Ghenghis Khan, and has started uniting Seattles biker gangs.

GM: I've forgotten your name.
Ben: ....Albert the Terrible

Felix: We need assistance to recover some free-range chips
Labrat: Sounds like a runaway potato.

Labrat: I've got ShadowNet and Shadowknowledge.
Inkubus: Eh, all those guys think I'm a freak.
Felix: ....
Inkubus: oh come on, I feed you a straight line like that?

Inkubus: The only thing you need to know about experience is this - Are you still breathing? Is there still a chance you'll be paid? Then you're doing fine.

We are, to put it mildly, a visually diverse group. Labrat, the Orc we're recruiting, is wearing a Zoot suit. Felix is wearing an immaculate set of gloves, and a coat that costs more than some cars. Greenlight has a bandana over his face (and so does his player). Titus the troll has a sledgehammer and gardening gloves hanging from his belt, and Warhammer, the ex-military dwarf is kitted out in combat armour. Inkubus the elven metal mage is wearing tattered jeans and hair down to his waist.

Inkubus: And no shirt. In Seattle. I take my fashion seriously.

Felix: We look like a 'Know Your Meta-Human' poster.

Inkubus and Felix are singing 'Zoot Suit Riot' - Inkubus knows the music, and Felix's history education including the race riots in question.

Labrat: Zoot-suits have a lot of advantages. *Shows off giant shoulder holster*
Felix: I'll shut up now.

Back to the hotel we're keeping the chip designer Teehee holed up at - assuming we can actually locate the erstwhile Khan, we need to know how to safely extract the chip. Teehee, however, manages to set the testboard on fire. Felix uses the fire extinguisher on the set-up, and on the designer.

Felix: You were smouldering. *to Labrat* Is he out yet?
Labrat: Give him another shot.
Inkubus: And you say you wouldn't fit in at one of my parties.

Inkubus hits the bars, looking for information. Apparently at least three of the gangs have already joined the new Khanate, and the Halloweeners - deranged psychopaths all - are in negotiation. Inkubus also manages to score an invite to the meeting of the biker gangs.

Felix: An invite that's actually relevant to this investigation, or to one of those parties that'll make the skin crawl off my shoulderblades?

Felix: So you're a biker's moll now?

We have a plan - Inkubus, Titus, Greenlight and Labrat will disguise themselves as a biker gang, acquire transport, and talk their way into the heart of the meeting. Meanwhile, Warhammer and Felix will have set up shot of a neighbouring rooftop, with sniper rifle and binoculars. One interesting thing about magic in Shadowrun is that line-of-sight effects work through optical devices. Magical snipers are a thing. As are non-magical snipers. A few bullets into the heads of various gang leaders should make the political situation on Seattle's streets veeeeerrrrry interesting. But will they be able to pass themselves off as bikers?

Inkubus: Ten minutes in a thrift shop, I can make you fit.

Greenlight is dressed like one of Inkubus' groupies.

Felix: Oh god, it's happening already.
Inkubus: I dont get it, Greenlight - you can do outfits like this, but when you walk around you look like your mother dressed you.
Greenlight: Hey, Inkubus, I think your outfit is missing one of these *flips the bird*

Three bikers provide the transport, and hours of entertainment for everybody else at the bar.

Inkubus: I hit them with a force five Orgy.
Titus: Sounds like a hurricane.
Felix: 'I call this one Katrina'

Inkubus: 'Where's my bike? And why is my dick in your ass?'
Greenlight: 'It happens sometimes...'
Inkubus: 'Godammit, it happened again!'
Labrat: 'But we're nowhere near the Blue Oyster Bar!'

But what to call themselves? Since all the bikes they're using happen to be Harley-Davidson Skorpions...

Felix: Deathstalkers, Mankillers
Warhammer: Crotchrockets

And what will Inkubus call himself when they're talking their way past the crowd of bikers, mosh pit, and Jumbotron TVs?

Greenlight: Lucifer.
Inkubus: I hate it. Let's go.
Warhammer: We could always call you Lucy.

Inkubus is quite impressed by the style on show at he biker gathering - the New Khanate outfits are actually pretty hardcore.

Inkubus: I feel like I'm betraying my path.... But I am being paid a ludicrous amount.

But, they do manage to brazen their way past the guards on the warehouse door - sheer elven charisma and the ability to wink at any women in the crowd and make them gush (such a useful spell, Orgasm) - even lets them drive their bikes into the building. That will be useful for the getaway.

Felix: I was expecting the fight to have started already. Working with Inkubus, you soon learn to exercise your pessimism.

GM: Cooperman is dressed like Ghenghis Khan. But from one of the bad movies.
Felix: The Conqueror.
Labrat: Argh!
Inkubus: Successful stunbolt.
Felix: Does he have a red-haired Irish Tartar princess?

Titus signals for the shot. Warhammer ventilates the skull of one of the gang leaders, Felix Stunballs the bikers filming everything for the Jumbotron, everybody outside sees the assassination live on a three-story tall screen, Inkubus screams "It's the cops! The Khan has set us up!", and the full-scale biker battle lights up.

Warhammer: This is the best six seconds of my life.

Felix: What we've done here will one day be an entire chapter in a book on Seattle history

Felix: One thing we take away from this night's work? The bike gangs of Seattle will never ally again.

It all works very well indeed. The two snipers deal with any leaders that are trying to get away, or organise the bikers into a cohesive response, with the other four hurl spells and concussion grenades and dead bikers around until they can grab the Khan, throw him over the back of one of the bikes, and get the hell out. Felix and Warhammer make a more leisurely retreat, while the explosives Labrat stashed in bins on the street outside the warehouse discourage pursuit. That's the cue for Lone Star law enforcement to move in - running street battles are one thing, but actual explosions decrease property values.

Titus: I like my sledgehammer.
Inkubus: The spirit of John Henry is strong in this one

The leader of the Halloweeners goes after Titus with a knife.

Greenlight: There's crazy stupid, and then there's crazy stupid.

Just in case Cooperman/Khan didn't have the other two chips on his person, they do a quick search before they leave. But the only tech is a computer that was ancient even when the module was written.

Felix: Why is the monitor all green?

Cooperman doesn't have the other chips. And dies screaming when they get the Khan chip out. This is bad. However, they do have a clue - Cooperman was apparently going to be meeting his own client at a Hollywood simsense industry party that very night. And his phone includes proof that our own client's business partner was in on the original theft. Unfortunately, we also think to ask Teehee who the other two chips were modelled after - Cleopatra III, and Jack the Ripper.

All: *assorted violent expletives*
Labrat: Why would you DO that?!?
Teehee: It was my job!

Since our heretek's player was ill, and the scenario is still very Shadowesque, and his character is busy with the scrapcode generator anyway...

Jrska OoC: Our decker ODed on Red Bull

But on with the plot - locating and stealing the dataspool our client wants. They're large cylinders, indistinguishable without expert knowledge. So our client has provided us with a one-shot, wide field teleporter beacon. We're going to steal the entire vault.

Rold: I'm surprised Jrska didn't run with 'large cylindrical object'

Cassius is feeling the lack of his Force Staff, the Doomwind. But until he can get it exorcised, he daren't even touch it. We put his subsequent pathetic performance down to his combat reflexes being thrown off.

Jrska OoC: 'I'll hit them with my sta- F**K... I'll parry with my sta-F**K!'
Cassius OoC: I'll plant my sta-FFFFFFFFFFFF

Aladar van Rijn, on the other hand, proves spectacularly lethal with a looted shotgun.

Jrska: Aladar finally succeeds at something!
Cassius OoC: Clearly he is intimidated by my staff
Jrska OoC: Performance anxiety -
Cassius OoC: - whenever the space marine is waving his staff around

After that we have to pick our way past all the security around the vault, using such ploys as have Rold dropping on the patrols from the ceiling.

GM: NPCs never look up.
Jrska: I am.
GM: Well yes, you're PCs.
Jrska: No, I'm admiring the way Rold's muscles are flexing. Yummy.
Rold: You can't see them, I'm in power armour.
Jrska: I have a vivid imagination

Jrska takes the opportunity to flex her pheromone enhancers, and other assets, to 'distract' the still-human security assets of one ring.

Jrska: *leaning insouciantly against a bulkhead and purring* Hi, boys.... I'm here to check the caliber of your weapons.

The best bit of this scene was watching Cassius' player cringe and facepalm.

Tech-priest: Thank Chaos we have no vow of Chastity!
Jrska: Why don't you invite some more friends, and we really make a party of it?

Jrska OoC: "Meanwhile, in the walls..."
Cassius: I am going to kill you all
Jrska: At least we'll die happy.

Arch-Magos: Why has the security deck ordered an additional supply of lubricant?

That security detail die with a smile on their faces, at least, and Jrska is certainly cheery. But the final, unexpected security - a rotating corridor and a sentry-servitor armed with a graviton gun and other weapons - proves troublesome.

Jrska: I don't mind being helpless on my back sometimes, but...

But Rold deals with it, and that graviton gun alone is a valuable prize. Being able to immobilise a squad of heavily armed and armoured enemies under their own weight makes for lots of fun. Thus the data vault - and all the other knick-knacks collected there - are whisked back to our client's starship, where he reveals his actual target. Not the dataspools themselves, but the mainframe data-engine they are all plugged into. Clever! He lets us help ourselves to the dataspools, and other trophies - he only wanted the hardware.

Cassius: We need to get Cog a roomful of things to experiment with.
Jrska: I keep offering things for him to experiment with, but he always turns me down.

Having acquired a vault-full of plot hooks, what next? The 'Chains of Judgement' still has all its Inquisitorial symbols on the hull - useful for getting around Imperial Space, but likely to attract aggression in the Screaming Vortex.

Rold: We'll hang a big sign outside the ship saying 'not a chaos ship, honest' and change the name to 'She's one of ours, Captain.'
Cassius: I always liked 'The Righteous Indignation'

Jrska: Cruise up to an Imperial ship and tell them 'Pull over, we've heard rumours of heresy'. Or turn up to an Imperial planet and tell them 'We're here for all your psykers - line them up'
GM: What will you do for Sisters of Silence?
Jrska: *shrugs* I'll make some costumes for my Kingfisher Girls. Skin-tight black silk, rrrrrrrrrrrrr... Extra straps... *drools*

A rumour of an alien artefact, left garrisoned with Ultramarines during the Horus Heresy 10,000 years ago, sounds intriguing. If the report is true, it's a psychic beacon to rival the Astronomicon that every ship in the Imperium uses to navigate the Warp. But first, some kind of holographic disguise for our ship, so we can get past Imperial and Chaos warships alike. That at least prevents Jrska from having to grab a random crewmember or three to prove her credentials every time they're trying to get past some warlord's flagship.

Jrska: Would an inquisitor do THIS?

Not that she minds grabbing random crewmembers, but having to do it just to prove a point would be tiresome. The plan becomes - 1) find a way out of the Vortex, 2) sneak into the Koronus Expanse, avoiding Imperial and Chaos forces where possible, 3) capture some Eldar from somewhere, and trade a few hundred of them to the Stryxis in return for holo-tech. The GM's starmaps prove unfortunately lewd.

GM: .... I'm going to stop drawing now.
Jrska OoC: The Smut Field is holding.

So off towards Imperial Space, to wreak havoc.

The hosts for tonight's game are planning a videocast series about Saturday Morning Cartoons. When I got there they were watching Silverhawks, and trying not to tear their own eyes out.

GM: This needs less cheese
Peanut Gallery: The kebab you're eating or Silverhawks?



In Shadowrun, before we can actually leave our meeting with the client, the doors burst open and two very obvious armed ork bodyguards enter, bracing a third ork. Naturally, the PCs dive for cover and Inkubus and Felix fire off some spells - Stunball, in the case of Felix, and Orgy (the area effect Orgasm spell) from Inkubus. This promptly stuns the Ork trio into a highly embarrassing state, and in the case of one, into a coma. But before we can follow up with gel rounds to ensure they stay down, the client identifies the intruder as Junior, the goblinized son of Global Technologies' founder. This is somewhat embarrassing, but what did he expect would happen if he burst into a roomful of armed shadowrunners? At least we prefer non-lethal responses.Junior seems a bit disgruntled about the job we've been hired to do. But then, having to borrow towels from the bar to clean up the after-effects of Inkubus' spell might explain that.

Felix: You know, it may have been a non-lethal spell, but there exist people who are MORE likely to have you killed for doing that sort of thing to them. Especially in public.

Greenlight: He sounds like a villain from Neil the Ork Barbarian... Not that I watch that show.



Anyway - the missing chip designer, Teehee, wiped the computers before he fled, but we are given a boxful of stuff from his desk and apartment to investigate. It includes tickets to a recent Urban Brawl match - quite a popular sport.

Felix: Now in 3D!
Greenlight: And Smellovision!
Inkubus: Actually, no-one has ever successfully marketed an Urban Brawl sim-sense.



One oddity of infotech in 2050 - no wireless network. That's just one of the things that makes playing things like Riggers difficult in that era.

Titus: Now I'm picturing a rigger getting defeated because somebody decided to microwave a burrito



The box also includes a range of data and sim chips.

Felix: What kind of porn is it?
GM: ...BBDW
Felix: Big Breasted... Dwarf Women?

Felix: I didn't know dwarves were that flexible

GM: The last chip is slightly different.
Titus: BBOW
Felix: Ork Women?
Titus: Yup.
Felix: At least it's not all midget porn.



Happily, other clues point us towards a possible friend of Teehee's - his old college professor.

Felix: And the other seven photos are him and his college cronies drinking til they puke?
Titus: Frat boys frats boys frat boys Clue!

Greenlight's player: I'm sorry, I've done cyberforensics and I'm having trouble getting into the mindset of a game written before I was born.

Felix: Is there a dwarven stripper bar we can stake out? Hooters, with burrowing owls as the mascot?

Felix: I'm starting to wonder why the client wanted mages and adepts for this job, instead of infotech specialists
Inkubus: They're experimental skill chips. We'd be less likely to try them out.
Felix: Good point.
Inkubus: Experimental military skill chips, stolen by a runner team that knew what they were after.
Felix: .... We're going to need more firepower, aren't we?



Happily, Greenlight knows a disgraced ex-military dwarf who can help. We speculate about his handle - Longbarrel?

Titus: That sounds too much like a porn star name
Felix: Well, there's all that midget porn - maybe that's where we know him from.
Titus: 'I swear I know your face from somewhere...'
Dwarf: 'You might know me from such films as'



His handle is actually Warhammer.

Felix: Still sounds like a porn name.
Greenlight: And the troll might use you as an improvised weapon.
GM: And your real name is Michael Jordan - no relation.

Greenlight: I know a dwarf with a lot of firepower
Titus: Is that a euphemism?

Greenlight: This is Warhammer.
Felix OoC: Is he grimdark? Overpriced? Ridiculously cheesy?

Inkubus: I'm not a fruit!
Greenlight: We've encountered four men tonight that he's pleasured.
GM: One into a coma.



We spot one of Junior's bodygaurds watching us as we drive off. Inkubus Orgasms him again, thus leaving TWO unconscious orks for the ambulance to collect.

Puzzled Medical mage: His pleasure centres are lit up like Christmas trees!
Medic: So he hired a magical hooker?
Mage: Probably?

Medic: What happened to them?
Mage: I dunno, but I'm hearing this music - Bow Chicka Wow Wow

Greenlight's player: If Kevin plays an ork we'll have the complete set.
Inkubus' player: I think he is.
Greenlight's player: Hat trick!



One of the clues leads us to a grocery store near the university, frequented by Teehee, and as it happens, Titus. But then, Titus' hobbies include gardening, shadowrunning, and accountancy. Felix and Inkubus are delighted to find that the store has actual real vegetables too.

Inkubus: This is how Felix and I bond - we both love real food.
GM: They even have chocolate - the real thing.
Inkubus: Mine! Mine! Mine!
Felix: Is that Brazilian???
Inkubus: Mine! Oh, I'll be nice - I'll share it with you.
Felix: Lettuce! They have lettuce!

Inkubus: If you saw five strange men waiting in your usual store, and they said “Doctor Hendricks, can I have a word“ how would you react? That's right - you'd run.



The party split up, to cover more leads, avoid spooking the targets, and salivate over the chocolate.

Felix: I'll be tweeting about this.
Inkubus: Me too.

Greenlight: Is this an apple?
Felix: That's a persimmon.
Inkubus: Easy mistake to make.
Greenlight: How do I eat it?
Titus: With your face.



Professor Hendricks gives up without a fight - that people have been hunting for Teehee is apparently no surprise. Indeed, the chip designer is hiding out at Hendrick's one-room apartment, and spending most of his time jacked into the Matrix. We stand around his oblivious form, and send an email.

'You have 60 seconds to jack out or we pull the plug.'

Felix: You might like to know that there are a number of large and ugly men looking for you - and we're not all of them.
Inkubus: Speak for yourself - I'm gorgeous.
Warhammer: At least he didn't say that he's 'fabulous.'



Teehee is full of all sorts of interesting facts. The missing chips are 'personality chips' based on illegal Better Than Life technology, designed to give the user the skill set, artificial memories, and so on. Junior knows about this, including the illegal aspects. Teehee left a copy of all the chip details on Junior's desk computer - useful info. The client did seem eager to get Junior out of his corporate hair, and this way they might get their designer back too.

The shadowrunners that stole the chips with Teehee's help stiffed him on the fee, and he hasn't heard from them since. They even left one of their number shot down in the car park, which is news to us, but news we can track down.

But first, Teehee should be moved to another, safer locale, while corporate shenanigans ensue. Warhammer points out that if we're trying to hide from Junior's goons at Global Industries, the hotel charges on the expense account will be a bit of a giveaway. Besides, Titus can present the client with an itemised bill, later.

Inkubus: Titus and me are sitting on Teehee.
Felix: Not literally I hope.
Titus: Well, no.
Felix: 'He's not going anywhere - ever again.'



The others use their contacts to track down the abandoned runner shot by corporate security - she's at a specialist clinic. We do our best to stay in the doctor's good graces.

Felix: This is the man that may be sewing up your duodenum next month. You wouldn't want him to leave a pair of scissors inside you.
Inkubus: By 'accident'



The wounded runner is very pissed off with her former team leader Cooperman too, and is eager to drop him in the shit. Greenlight reassures her we only want the chips, and warns her that they are dangerously experimental. And gives her more details about the chips than is wise, given client confidentiality.

Titus: No more solo jobs for Greenlight until he gets over this 'honesty' thing.



We also learn that Cooperson is a history buff - particularly of the Mongol Khanate. Inkubus makes the connection.

Inkubus: Teehee... These personality chips... These experimental military skill chips... Were any of them based on Ghenghis Khan?
Teehee: ... Yes?
Felix: ..... Christ. If I check the news now we're going to see a small man with a pointy furry hat, riding a tiny horse through downtown Seattle, aren't we?



Close. If we'd been watching the news instead of checking Facebook, Tumblr, and writing expense claims, we'd already know that somebody claiming to be Ghenghis Khan has united three of Seattle's biker gang - or at least the gangs are finding him entertaining enough to go along with this, for now. Felix is suddenly glad they have Warhammer along for fire support. No doubt the other missing chips are even worse.

Aladar's warpsight mutation kicks in. Jrska is somewhat displeased with Aladar's reaction to the sight of her

Cog: What kind of Slaaneshi cultist are you? You're supposed to like screams.
Jrska: Screams of agonised ecstacy, sure. That was a scream of fear. *to Aladar, in tones of careful warning* I hope that doesn't mean you don't like what you see, sweety.

Anyway, the ship still needs repairs, and the hereteks have the skill and material we need. But what do we offer them in return? Perhaps our own heretek can negotiate.

Jrska: This is Cog's time to shine.
Cog: To crash and burn - i think you said that wrong

Jrska: Aladar wasn't a pirate, he was a rogue trader. There's a small difference.
GM: A small difference

Cassius intends to get his force staff exorcised.

Jrska: That should be interesting to watch. If you don't mind, we'll watch from orbit.
Aladar: You can always do it on Mammon. Nothing there to wreck.
Cassius: Hey! They might be religious nuts -
Jrska: But they're OUR religious nuts

And Cassius can cannibalise bits from the dead berserker's armour, to repair his own. That best-quality armourer's kit Jrska bought Rold (as part of her long-term plan to subvert his loyalty) will come in handy.

Jrska OoC: 'Pass me that socket wrench - the one with the silver inlay. And skulls.'

Jrska OoC: The former occupant leaks out through the holes.

But our Navigator's prognostications have urged him to bypass the Ragged Helix, and take us to the gigantic Universe-class ship and it's attendant battlecruisers, that a particular heretek uses as a mobile dry-dock for multiple starships.

Jrska: Isn't it nice when the help acts unilaterally.

The Arch-magos of the repair fleet has already heard of us, and is willing to repair and refit the Chains of Judgement if we do a little mercenary work for him - infiltrate the starbase of a rival heretek, introduce scrapcode into his datasystems, steal certain data-spools, and help ourselves to anything else that isn't nailed down. Our GM has inadvertently crafted a scenario well suited for an entirely different game.

Jrska OoC: So we're doing a shadowrun. We're deniable assets for one technology group, against another. It's Shadowrun with more skulls and ankle-length robes. And Pauldrons. Mustn't forget the pauldrons.
GM: Seniority is determined by the size of your pauldrons and hat. If your have pauldrons AND a hat, you're the most important person on the field
Aladar: I take off my hat.
Jrska: It's ok, sweety, anybody can tell you're not worth a sniper's bullet.

Although this does beg the question of what are we going to do about our own Arch-Magos? The more work we have done on the ship, the more likely 'Father' will realise we're not loyal imperial citizens, and do something about it. Perhaps= Jrska can do something, assuming'Father' still has any biological components?

'Father': That is my earlobe. Stop that.
Cog: 'That is my dignity'
Jrska OoC: I thought you lost that ages ago.

'Father': Shall. We. End. This. Pretence? I have seen. The modifications. You have made. To yourself. While they are not. As impressive. As the modifications I have made to myself. They too. Violate dogma.

'Father' is willing to admit that he too is heretekical. This is good news. Now we can all be happy traitors together, at least until the sudden and inevitable betrayal. Anyway - the Arch-magos running the drydock arranges to have us teleported into the rival's space station, while his fleet and the station indulge in live weapons testing on each other. We appear in a cornfield. This is momentarily confusing, until we realise we're in one of the overgrown agridomes on the giant station.

Rold OoC: Khorne flakes. They're violently delicious.

We are promptly attacked by a pair of Grox. Grox are the preferred livestock of the Imperium, despite the fact that they're hippo-sized vicious armoured omnivores that have to be lobotomised at hatching to stop them killing each other, and the herders.

Jrska OoC: 40k - even the food is grimdark!

Jrska leaps onto the back of one of the enraged beasts. Mostly because it's fun.

GM: Jrska has done what she does best and jumped on top of things.
Jrska: I have a rampaging grox between my legs.
Cog: Oh god, the noises.

Jrska: Maybe I need to get some backless chaps.
All: *fall silent as this image derails everybody's train of thought*

GM: You're in a maze of corridors.
Aladar OoC: So the corn is still around? Since we're in a maize section?
All: *howls of outrage*

To get part the heavy security presence, we have Cog lure two Tech-priests into a stairwell where we can kill them and steal their robes. Whilst they are suspicious about this techpriest they don't recognise, they opt to investigate immediately, rather than notify central security first.

Jrska OoC: Obviously the Arch-magos hasn't read the Evil Overlord list.

Cassius: We only need one pair of intact robes.
Aladar: Robes or lobes?
Jrska: Robes. If Cassius explodes their heads there wont be any intact lobes.

He doesn't just explode their heads. The first tech-priest... goes away. Loudly enough to get the attention of the one standing guard over Cog. The resulting melee gets quite bloody, if brief and one-sided.

Jrska: Just as well tech-priest robes are red, isn't it?

And thus Jrska patches up the robes, and prepares to hide under Cassius' robes and jiggle the looted cybernetics so we'll all pass as Tech-priests, at least from a distance.

GM: You have a sewing kit?... If it was any other character, I wouldn't believe you.

Jrska: And I'll manipulate the dangling bits.
Cog: *chokes*
Cassius: You're used to it.

GM: I can believe Jrska has the thigh strength to hang off Cassius' waist - I don't doubt it.

Aladar: You've got wings now?
Jrska: Yup, Cassius and Rold both do. I've got Wings too, but only at that time of the month.
All: *headdesk*

Jrska: I'll draw my splinter pistol and neural whip. If I jiggle it about maybe they'll think it's a mechadendrite.

The subsequent melee goes well for the party, despite wary security forces and murder-servitors. Our decker - sorry, Cog - uploads his IC - sorry, scrapcode, into the unsecured node - sorry, data cogitators... look, forget it - the first part of the 40K Shadowrun is going well - merry hell is breaking loose in the space station's data systems, and we're free to start the hunt for things to loot.

Since our heretek's player was ill, and the scenario is still very Shadowesque, and his character is busy with the scrapcode generator anyway...

Jrska OoC: Our decker ODed on Red Bull

But on with the plot - locating and stealing the dataspool our client wants. They're large cylinders, indistinguishable without expert knowledge. So our client has provided us with a one-shot, wide field teleporter beacon. We're going to steal the entire vault.

Rold: I'm surprised Jrska didn't run with 'large cylindrical object'

Cassius is feeling the lack of his Force Staff, the Doomwind. But until he can get it exorcised, he daren't even touch it. We put his subsequent pathetic performance down to his combat reflexes being thrown off.

Jrska OoC: 'I'll hit them with my sta- F**K... I'll parry with my sta-F**K!'
Cassius OoC: I'll plant my sta-FFFFFFFFFFFF

Aladar van Rijn, on the other hand, proves spectacularly lethal with a looted shotgun.

Jrska: Aladar finally succeeds at something!
Cassius OoC: Clearly he is intimidated by my staff
Jrska OoC: Performance anxiety -
Cassius OoC: - whenever the space marine is waving his staff around

After that we have to pick our way past all the security around the vault, using such ploys as have Rold dropping on the patrols from the ceiling.

GM: NPCs never look up.
Jrska: I am.
GM: Well yes, you're PCs.
Jrska: No, I'm admiring the way Rold's muscles are flexing. Yummy.
Rold: You can't see them, I'm in power armour.
Jrska: I have a vivid imagination

Jrska takes the opportunity to flex her pheromone enhancers, and other assets, to 'distract' the still-human security assets of one ring.

Jrska: *leaning insouciantly against a bulkhead and purring* Hi, boys.... I'm here to check the caliber of your weapons.

The best bit of this scene was watching Cassius' player cringe and facepalm.

Tech-priest: Thank Chaos we have no vow of Chastity!
Jrska: Why don't you invite some more friends, and we really make a party of it?

Jrska OoC: "Meanwhile, in the walls..."
Cassius: I am going to kill you all
Jrska: At least we'll die happy.

Arch-Magos: Why has the security deck ordered an additional supply of lubricant?

That security detail die with a smile on their faces, at least, and Jrska is certainly cheery. But the final, unexpected security - a rotating corridor and a sentry-servitor armed with a graviton gun and other weapons - proves troublesome.

Jrska: I don't mind being helpless on my back sometimes, but...

But Rold deals with it, and that graviton gun alone is a valuable prize. Being able to immobilise a squad of heavily armed and armoured enemies under their own weight makes for lots of fun. Thus the data vault - and all the other knick-knacks collected there - are whisked back to our client's starship, where he reveals his actual target. Not the dataspools themselves, but the mainframe data-engine they are all plugged into. Clever! He lets us help ourselves to the dataspools, and other trophies - he only wanted the hardware.

Cassius: We need to get Cog a roomful of things to experiment with.
Jrska: I keep offering things for him to experiment with, but he always turns me down.

Having acquired a vault-full of plot hooks, what next? The 'Chains of Judgement' still has all its Inquisitorial symbols on the hull - useful for getting around Imperial Space, but likely to attract aggression in the Screaming Vortex.

Rold: We'll hang a big sign outside the ship saying 'not a chaos ship, honest' and change the name to 'She's one of ours, Captain.'
Cassius: I always liked 'The Righteous Indignation'

Jrska: Cruise up to an Imperial ship and tell them 'Pull over, we've heard rumours of heresy'. Or turn up to an Imperial planet and tell them 'We're here for all your psykers - line them up'
GM: What will you do for Sisters of Silence?
Jrska: *shrugs* I'll make some costumes for my Kingfisher Girls. Skin-tight black silk, rrrrrrrrrrrrr... Extra straps... *drools*

A rumour of an alien artefact, left garrisoned with Ultramarines during the Horus Heresy 10,000 years ago, sounds intriguing. If the report is true, it's a psychic beacon to rival the Astronomicon that every ship in the Imperium uses to navigate the Warp. But first, some kind of holographic disguise for our ship, so we can get past Imperial and Chaos warships alike. That at least prevents Jrska from having to grab a random crewmember or three to prove her credentials every time they're trying to get past some warlord's flagship.

Jrska: Would an inquisitor do THIS?

Not that she minds grabbing random crewmembers, but having to do it just to prove a point would be tiresome. The plan becomes - 1) find a way out of the Vortex, 2) sneak into the Koronus Expanse, avoiding Imperial and Chaos forces where possible, 3) capture some Eldar from somewhere, and trade a few hundred of them to the Stryxis in return for holo-tech. The GM's starmaps prove unfortunately lewd.

GM: .... I'm going to stop drawing now.
Jrska OoC: The Smut Field is holding.

So off towards Imperial Space, to wreak havoc.

Afaik official Backstory was that the "big three "(Poseidon and the twins Zeus/Hades) are not allowed to have children anymore. Because in that setting Hilter was Hades Son, or something.
It isn't an iron rule - just try to not to overdo it Zeus style and keep the offsprings hidden.
Also Artemis in that setting only "adopts" children, instead of having them.

Well, it is the daughter of virgin-goddess Artemis, so I presume some liberties have been taken with the setting.

Is HE nuts?  Coming from a young woman with any knowledge of Greek mythology who willingly climbs into the back of a limo with Zeus?

From the "Percy Jackson" based game I'm running for my eleven year old daughter. She's playing Diana, the fifteen year old demi-god daughter of Artemis. She and her companions are thumbing it on the side of the road when a black limo with tinted windows, lightning bolt hub-caps, grill-work, and a "shock'em" vanity plate rolls up. Sean Bean... er, Zues... gives them a ride. He wants to have a "talk" with her. Basically, Selene and Hecate and her Mom are vying for control of the moon while someone is using the stygian witches to try to kill her. Zeus tells he her that Gaia is involved and that "the three" have decided she must finally be removed. He wants Artemis to "take the Earth," but doesn't want Selene or Hecate to have the Moon -- instead, he wants her be the heir to her mother's portfolio.
 
Her response: "What? Are you nuts?!"
 
Twelve labors loom large in her future.... fortunately, Kevin Sorbo, er... Hercules... is her best friend's dad.

Jrska has become my favourite characters, Drhoz and "Slaanesh's Lonely Hearts Club Warband" is the funniest thing on the QotW thread.

Having duly acquired several thousand deluded Mammonites, and sorted them out into "potential cannon fodder" and "hopelessly devoted to the Corpse-Emperor", and heading back to the Ragged Helix to buy more repairs to the Chains of Judgement. After all, we don't even have any working sensors, and have been relying entirely on the Navigator's unnatural abilities, and Cassius' divinations.

    Rold Dundee: 'I have a good feeling about... that way'
    Jrska: You think you're joking? That's exactly what it's been like.

    GM: The bridge is mostly dark, only a few lights flickering on the many consoles as you plunge through the Warp
    Jrska: Aladar sits in the command chair, weeping softly at his complete uselessness.

    Jrska: I've been busy training up all those 'morale officers' you wanted. My Kingfisher Girls... and Boys, I'm not prejudiced. Which reminds me, I have to borrow the egg-beater from the galley.
    Cassius: *eyes Jrska suspiciously*
    Jrska: For the advanced classes.
    Cassius: *long-suffering sigh*



One subject of discussion - when are we going to betray the tech-priest Magos running the engines, in order to forestall his inevitable betrayal of us? It'll probably have to be soon. But not until after the current crisis, in which every klaxon and flashing light goes off, and the Magos demands immediate assistance at the Gellar Field generators.

    Cog: This is what I get for not following up reports of people sleeping on duty in the Gellar Field room



Rushing to the site, we can hear the distinctive sound of heavy bolters firing. This makes Jrska's hackles raise, bolters being a signature weapon of the space marines, and any space marines that managed to get on board are unlikely to be our friends. Happily, the bolter fire is overlaying hideous, spine-chilling and unnatural screaming that grates on the very soul.

    Jrska: Ah, it's not space marines - it's only daemons.


Cog's player get some of his dice-rolling confused

    Cassius's player: It's addition and subtraction, dude!
    Rold Dundee's player: It's like playing darts with drunk people.



At least we find out what happened to those members of the cannibal tribe that didn't line up for cyberconversion. Because waves of them, possessed by daemons, are hurling themselves at the Gellar compartment's sentry guns. Even Cassius finds this alarming, despite a space marine's legendary enhancements.

    Jrska: “And they will know no fear“ Bullllllshiiiiiiiiiiiit.



The subsequent battle goes quite well for the warband - in particular Rold and his Hellblade making horrifically short work of the warpspawn - but Aladar proves typically useless.

    Jrska: You might as well stay down. You can shoot just as well prone as standing. i.e., not well.

    Aladar: I need a bigger weapon.
    Jrska: Yes, yes you do. I know all about the caliber of your weapon. *to Cassius* He's inadequate there, too.

    GM: Stop playing the bongos on Aladar's head.
    Jrska: OK, I'll play the steel drums instead. *switches to Cog*

    Jrska: Of course, one of the reasons I like the plasma pistol is the lovely phallic shape.
    Aladar: But you wouldn't want a misfire.
    Cassius: Why not? She used to it, with you.



But how did daemons get onto the ship, anyway? The groaning superstructure and unholy energy emanating from three decks down might be a clue - Cassius and Rold leap into the unknown, down a Geoffrey's Tube. Rold breaks his fall by digging his Hellblade into the walls of the shaft. Not very effective, since it's now so gorged on blood that the hullmetal doesn't even slow it down.

    Rold Dundee: There's now a big lightning bolt rip down the wall of the shaft.
    Jrska OoC: We'll have to rename the ship The Harry Potter



Jrska decides she'll be most useful by staying at the top and dropping hallucinogen grenades down the shaft. Cog, whilst not useful, starts tallying up the damage that Cassius and Rold have done to the ship. Aladar just runs down the vertical shaft, magboots clinging to the metal.

    Cassius OoC: The secrets of the obscure tech cult of 9-10-D-0. It includes a musical cue indicating battery life.



At the bottom of the shaft dozens of deranged cannibals are gathered around a summoning circle, currently occupied by that Space Marine berserker that got away, on Sacgrave.

    Jrska: Huh. I was wondering when he'd show up. And it's not like we didn't know he was on board somewhere... isn't that right, Rold? This is why you tell people when you find broken space marine power blades outside your cabin door.



That he managed to sneak aboard isn't that surprising - given all the damage to the sensors and hull he could have rammed the Chains of Judgement with another ship and no-one would have noticed - but that he's busily summoning Daemons of the Warp in order to destroy the ship's Gellar Field Generators is more than slightly alarming. Especially since he's clearly trying to summon an even bigger one.

    Rold Dundee: I'm going to cut through through all the ritual lines with my sword.
    Jrska OoC: So whatever they're summoning breaks free and does whatever it likes?
    Rold Dundee: Is that what happens? Pity I don't know that.

    Cassius: I need to go balls to the wall on this.
    Jrska: It's not like space marines use them for anything else.

    Jrska: I'm perfectly happy to be sitting three decks up, dropping stuff down the hole.
    Cog: Sounds like one of your date nights.



Cassius attempts to disrupt the summoning by flinging psychic attacks against the berserker. Rold keeps the cannibals occupied by wading into the horde and hacking about with the Hellblade, which is now so engorged with souls and bloodshed that the slightest nick is making multiple cultists explode. Cassius and the berserker both manage to screw up so badly that instead of the intended lesser daemon, a Greater Daemon takes an interest. Aladar arrives just in time to be blinded by the explosion of warp energy that vaporises the berserker and the remaining cultists.

    GM: I can just picture it - the Greater Deamon is watching from the Warp, and murmurs "Now this is getting interesting" and shoves the Lesser Daemon away from the rift - 'out of the way, you' - FLICK



The Daemon manages to get itself trapped inside Cassius's Force Staff, the Doomwind. This should be impossible, since force weapons destroy souls and daemons, but Cassius is still unwilling to touch the weapon. The way it's hanging in mid-air, screaming and streaming warp-lightning, might be a clue, as are the corruptive effects of the botched ritual on everyone present. Rold, overwhelmed with briefly sated bloodlust, dedicates the pile of smoking human debris to Khorne, and is rewarded with great black bat wings. Aladar will be waking up with warp-vision permanently burned into his optic nerves. And Cassius is now wreathed with warp energy. All three are that much closer to devolving into mindless Chaos Spawn. Cog and Jrska, still three decks up, manage to avoid all these debilitating corruption effects, and contrive to look innocent. After all, there are many ways to find the favour of the Ruinous Powers, that don't entail hurling yourself into a major summoning ritual.