Drhoz

I have no doubt that, after having danced the Masochism Tango, that Jrska's next move will be to
poison pigeons in the nearest Imperial Park, whilst planning the orbital bombardment of some
poor unsuspecting city-eating cockroach...
 
 
Major Tom 2009

You beat me to the Lehrer references. 

From a Call of Cthulhu game:
 
"Of course there's something fishy about her. There's an Innsmouth connection."
 
Next session:
 
"We thought she was fishy, but she turned out to be a red herring."
 
Lucius Alexander
 
The palindromedary notes that the smitten girl in question was a well-read herring

The Further Adventures of Slaanesh's Lonely Hearts Club Warband - but first some discussion the Warhammer 40K mythology, and in particular the various incredibly bone-headed decisions by the Emperor of Mankind that made the Horus Heresy inevitable. Things like abducting Angron from the side of the slave army he had lead to a final stand against their oppressors, and not explaining to Magnus why the Warp was so dangerous, and not telling Horus that he was returning to Terra to oversee the creation of an interstellar Webway. All stuff to be filed under 'Tragedies that could be averted with a five-minute conversation'

    Rold Dundee OOC: We need a big poster of the civil war, with the caption 'This is why you should talk to your children'



Cassius, on why he has turned his back on the the Imperium of Man.

    Cassius OOC: I like the people, I just hate the government.... Oh god, I'm playing Lenin.
    GM: I assume you mean the Russian, not John.



Briefing Cassius on the events of the previous session, such as giving Garath the Tyrant's Cord

    Jrska: And he didn't try anything, and give us an excuse to kill him for his treachery!
    Cassius: *sarcastically* Gosh, I wonder how he became so influential.
    Cog OOC: 'I'm the nice kind of evil - I'll only stab you in the face.'



The New Mutant Army, while sizeable, is still grossly insufficient to crew a starship.

    Aladar van Rijn: We could just let them breed.
    Cog: That might take a while.
    Cassius: And it depends on them being compatible.
    Jrska: *perks up* My lord, I will make it a priority to check their anatomy.
    Cassius: Why am I not surprised.



Among Jrska's purchases - make-up, beauty product, fabric, sewing tools, etc, but not just for herself. After all, they ARE going to a party.

    Jrska: I look good in anything, but YOU three...



Cassius wants to acquire a cadre of minor psykers - to expand his repertoire of powers. His player misses the roll by 1.

    Shopkeeper: If only you'd been here five minutes earlier!
    GM: I'll let you have them but I'll keep it as a plot point that...
    Cog: Something is off about them.
    Cassius OOC: That's ominous.



Sadly, the GM disallows one of the many abuses of the Black Crusade rules - a harpoon gun with a 100-round ammo belt.

    Rold Dundee OOC: Four hundred rounds to reload.
    Jrska OOC: To nip down to Bunnings for a new roll of fence palings.



The Khornate mercs that deliver the New Mutant Army to the Chains of Judgement do have... interesting... news to impart. Apparently, one of our tech-adepts redirected their shuttle to another part of the ship. This is news to us, since we thought we'd already killed all the tech-adepts on board. Naturally, we play innocent, and hurry off to interrogate the nameless navigator about what has been happening in our absence. Apparently 'Father' has awoken. And Father is the ship's chief engineer, and he's currently converting Mother's cannibal tribe into servitors, while the various tech-adepts cybernetically slaved to his will attempt to repair the ship. Our delivery of 6000 mutants was promptly commandeered.

    Jrska: Yoohoo honey, we're home.

    Nameless Navigator: Rest assured they're being put to good use.
    Cog: What's this green stuff we're eating?

    GM: The navigator quite old and covered with feathers
    Rold Dundee OOC: He got into a pillowfight earlier.



Cog protests that he should be the one running the ship.

    Surviving Cannibal: I feel sorry for you
    Cog: Wait until you see my bill.
    Surviving Cannibal: Wait until Father finds out you want his job.

    Cog OOC: Hungry Hungry Hippos in Space
    Cassius OOC: I'm glad they haven't made THAT game into a movie.

    Cassius: I going to kill Father.
    Jrska: Or negotiate a peaceful compromise?
    Cassius: I plan to have a pointed conversation. With lots of punctuation.
    Jrska: In his torso? oh, sorry, that would be punctures.



Finding some of the converted cannibals attempting to repair warp-damage to some of the corridors, where the original crew were fused into the metal. Hacking into their brainchips allows us to find the safe route to Father, although bluffing our way past the heavily armed security servitors does prove necessary.

    Cassius: I'm not annoyed yet.
    Jrska: Well, technically we haven't lost any crew this way
    Cassius: That's why I'm not annoyed

    Jrska: Trying to sand somebody's face off the floor panelling, are they?

    Rold Dundee OOC: I love that we're getting our map from the Roombas.
    Cog OOC: I've never been electrocuted by a Roomba... Apart from that one time

    Jrska: You wanted a plasma cannon, didn't you?
    Cog: Not to the face!

    Jrska: We can always use Aladar as a distraction. His outfit is bound to confuse their optical sensors.



The Enginseer 'Father' is eventually convinced that Cassius is an acceptable Shipmaster, although he's suspicious enough to radio off a message to the nearest Inquisitorial outpost. Given that it's lightyears away, we're not overly concerned. 'Father' is also suspicious about having a mutant crew, and Jrska's presence on board, but Jrska convinces him that its all for purposes of disguise on mutant-held planets. Cassius claims that Cog will act as liaison between the mechanical and organic components of the ship, and Cog assures the Enginseer that Jrska is the ship's new seneschal and spiritual advisor.

    Jrska: Spiritual Advisor. I like that - I'll have to have that put on my door.



Along with Morale Officer and Chief Medical Officer.

    Cassius OOC : 'Turn your head and cough'



'Father' invades Jrska's personal space - like she cares - and spits out reams of dot-matrix printout. It's mostly a list of everything on the ship that needs repairing.

    GM: There's also a priority order of depilatory cream for the seneschal.
    Jrska:
    Cog: But when the fur grows back she'll be itchy and take it out on everyone.



And off to the Ragged Helix. Jrska assigns rooms and assistants to everybody. Cassius gets the most professional. Rold gets a few likely security types, but Jrska is careful to avoid anybody that could be the nucleus of a Khornate warrior lodge. She, of course, picks her own.

    Jrska: Interesting skin texture you have there. Are you like that all over? OK, you, you, that cute one hiding down the back, and Mister Tripod there.
    Aladar: Hey! What about me? Do I get cute ones too?
    Jrska: Nope. You do get the most sycophantic though.



And, of course, Jrska keeps her promise to Aladar, about showing him how grateful she is - turning up at his stateroom with a nice romantic meal and chilled bottle of amasec. For starters. She rapidly guilt trips him into accepting her advances, although her new prosthetic Pheromone Emitters certainly help, especially in a confined space.

    Jrska: Is it because I'm a mutant? *puppydog eyes* It's OK, we can do it with the lights off.



Aladar soon succumbs. Leaving him passed out, Jrska strolls off whistling a happy tune, and turns to her attendant servo-skull, Partybot 2000. The one with all the night vision cameras.

    Jrska: Did you get all that?



Minutes later her next target, Cog, is more resistant to her charms, despite a different ploy.

    Jrska: As chief medical officer it's my duty to know all about your anatomy. I know you cogboys are a bit sensitive about your meat-flesh, but I promise I won't tell anybody. Cross my heart *crosses the wrong side of her chest*



Then there's the problem of the surviving cannibals, who gave their fealty to Cassius and are somewhat aggrieved that he wasn't around to protect them when Father woke up. He solves this problem with admirable callousness, telling them there's plentiful food in the cyberconversion labs, and to go line up outside. A few more acts of treachery like this and the Chaos Gods may well reward him with his first mutation. Morphic resonance and his power armour's history being what they are, that first mutation will likely be wings. Appropriate, given his Storm Crow origins and Extinction's Angel title whenever Jrska introduces him.

    Jrska OOC: Sire? You appear to be growing feathers.
    Cassius OOC: POMF! Wingboner!

    Aladar: I'm bored
    Jrska: *leers* I can fix that.
    Cassius OOC: I bet you can.
    Jrska: It's my duty as morale officer. Please ignore any noises you here coming for Captain Aladar's room. I was going to work slowly, but if he's bored and we have five weeks... I'm sure I can have him in a gimp suit with his face between my thighs before then.



Rold finds a broken space marine power sword in the corridor outside his quarters. Despite the repercussions of the last time he picked up a strange sword, he picks this up too. He doesn't bother telling anybody about the discovery, either.

    Cassius OOC: 'I picked it up to see if anything bad would happen'. There's a quote for you.
    Jrska OOC: And epitaph, probably.
    Rold Dundee OOC: I've got as many Slaaneshi advances as Khornate.
    Jrska OOC: Makes sense. Poor impulse control is a feature of both.



At the Ragged Helix, we are challenged by a pirate vessal Aladar recognises - it was one of many that used to harass his fleet.

    Aladar: Don't you remember me?
    Pirate Captain: Remember you? Why would I remember the wart on some Nurglite's arse?
    Jrska: Nice one, I'll have to remember that. May I address them?
    Cog: Did you just say address or undress?
    Jrska: *shrugs* Both work for me
    Cassius OOC: A little from column A, a little from Column B.



The pirate is clearly shocked when Jrska sticks her head in front of the holocamera, and nervously escorts us to Prince Pseudanor's domain in the depths of the asteroid belt - a lavish and well-armed palace.

    Jrska: Let's walk in like we own the place

    Jrska: May I advise you, Lord? Aloofness is entirely appropriate for you here. Just pretend that nothing here impresses you.
    Cassius: That will not be difficult



Cassius is also unimpressed by the assorted debris from previous evening's debauch.

    Cassius: Shows a lack of discipline
    Jrska: Oh, I'm all about discipline. Isn't that right Aladar, darling?
    Cassius' player: You're enjoying this far too much.
    Me: Yes, yes I am.



But the palace IS the most lavish Jrska has seen outside the Inner Vortex and the demonworld Pandemonium, where she grew up.

    Jrska: Also known as the Party Planet. For lightyears around you can hear the DOOF DOOF DOOF.



The Slaaneshi pirate's court is swarming with a throng of libertines, freaks, and even a few demons, none of whom seem impressed by the frankly scruffy warband that just arrived in a wreck of a ship. But we do find out why Pseudanor sent those mercs after Jrska, demanding she attend his court. Since it's her beloved twin brother under a new name.

    Jrska: *squees like a schoolgirl and rushes forward, until she's blocked by his bodyguards.*
    Me: (to GM) You're just blocking me so I won't squick you with my intended greeting, aren't you?
    GM: Yes.

    Aladar: Holy crap, did that guy just eat a bicycle?
    Jrska: Don't worry sweety, you'll see a lot worse than that around here. Or better.

    Jrska: Hey cutie. Ever done it with someone that can lick their own eyebrows?
    Bodyguard: Yes.
    Jrska: Great! You know what to expect. I'll see you upstairs in 30 minutes - bring some friends.



Turns out Pseudanor is a bit upset with Jrska - mostly the way she went missing for 200 years and never sent any postcards. Also turning up again with such disreputably Khornate-leaning individuals like Rold is a bad sign. He intends to test her, and her associates, to see if she is still worthy of his support. Naturally, there will be six tests - six being the number of Slaanesh - based around Greed, Gluttony, Carnality, etc.

    Pseudanor: I am not convinced you are the person you were, sister.
    Jrska: Five minutes alone and I'll prove it.
    Pseudanor: That is just ONE of the tests.

    Cassius: Six Sins?
    Pseudanor: Six Delights.
    Cassius: Six Delights, then. If you betray us, you will taste the seventh - Wrath.



Jrska volunteers Aladar for the first test. After all -

    Jrska: This man was once a Rogue Trader - he risked his entire fleet against the minions of the Corpse-Emperor, in a blind desire for yet more profit - and LOST. Can any of you deny he embodies the finest standards of Greed?



His opponent will be Pseudanor's accountant, who wagers the locale of one of the legendary Treasure Dens in a simple game of chance. Since betting his life or eyes is too passée, Aladar promptly bets the ship. The ship isn't his, but Jrska points out that being so blinded by greed that he'll risk Cassius' wrath can only be a GOOD thing. Happily, he wins the first toss, and his opponent suggests a second bet - the combinations for the treasure den defences. Instead, Aladar demands six years service. And THIS roll ends up a draw. Jrska manages to talk them and the crowd into a stylish compromise - six years service, at the end of which he'll get the ship. As Cassius points out, if the ship is lost in those six years, the accountant's incompetence will be a contributing factor. He agrees.

    Jrska: Three cheers for the contestants!
    Cassius: Six.
    Jrska: Good point.



Next up, Gluttony. An eating contest against the giant heaving mound of flesh that was eating a bicycle earlier. Jrska turns her attention to the space marine psyker - after all, his biological engineering will give him certain advantages. Superhuman toughness, for one. And acidic saliva that should kill any food that tries to fight back.

    Cassius: You wish to test your gluttony against the genetek secrets of the Dark Age of Technology? Sir, I salute you.

    Plukus: Round one - The fried chicken!
    Jrska: A Subjutator Titan - aka the Slaaneshi Death-Chicken
    GM: That'll be the last round - the OTHER fried chicken XD



By the sixth round they've escalated to live food - in this case, Ravenous Face-biter Squigs.

    Cassius: I've fought planetary campaigns like this... the trick is to get the upper and lower lip at the same time.



Then on to the truly inedible, like a barrel of fuel oil.

    Rold Dundee: Chaser to the squig.
    Cassius: Haven't done this since I was a scout.
    Jrska: Chug! Chug! Chug! Chug!



But it's when they step thing up to whole human - two slaves dragged from from the audience, that Jrska steps in to assist. She reprimands the glutton Plukus for wanting to eat human raw. Any true sensualist would prepare the meal first. Her intention is actually to give Cassius' digestion a few minutes to recover, but instead Cassius loses patience, lifts up the next course, and sprays acidic spit over his face. Which indeed eats away the flesh. Such callousness is rewarded by the gods with mutation - a large pair of bird wings.

    Jrska: Must be all that fried chicken. Ladies, Gentlemen & Sacred Hermaphrodites! I give you Extinction's Angel!

    Rold: I wonder how they're going to keep escalating this.
    Jrska: Demonmeat. Eat the deamonette!
    Demonette: You only had to ask....



Or possibly auto-cannibalism? Happily, they don't have to - Cassius resorts to psychic disciplines for the next round, with the unfortunate - or fortunate - side effect of instantly putrefying all food in the room. Thus is too much for Plukus, who loses the L and the contest. Next up, Carnality!

    Jrska: *bouncing up and down* Ooh! Ooh! Pick me!

    Me: How about a song contest? I'll sing the complete Doug Anthony All Stars catalog, and you can assume I win. Necrophilia, bestiality, unbirthing...
    Jrska: *sings excerpts from the relevant songs*
    Cassius' player: Open with World's Best Kisser, for that line...
    Jrska: *sings* I only kissed one girl before, my Grandma, on the kitchen floor, she dribbled and grinned, and said 'hey kid, you taught me things your Grandpa never did'.
    Me: And break it up with some Tom Lehrer, and the Ballad of Eskimo Nell
  Jrska: *sings* Stories of tortures, used by debauchers, lurid, licentious, and vile, make me smile. Novels that pander, to my taste for candour, give me a pleasure sublime, let's face it, I love slime.



But instead of Black Crusade - the Musical, Jrska faces a more ordinary test of her carnal appetites. Her opponent warns her that one one other person has survived her boudoir - Jrska's brother. Jrska gives him a delighted grin and two thumbs up, which he briefly returns. That's the joyful pervert she knows and loves.

    Jrska: Even if I don't survive it'll be worth it.

    GM: We'll draw a discrete curtain over the scene
    Jrska: Boooooooo!



Thanks to her patron's Mark, the pheromone emitters, and sheer awesomeness, Jrska has such a high charisma she can't fail the first seven rounds of the test. Mostly it's swapping tips and discussing her brother.

    Jrska: He makes the cutest noises when you do this.



But they do become increasingly extreme and strenuous.

    Jrska OOC: Lucky for me I'm female and therefore multiply orgasmic.

    GM: The courtiers listen with increasingly interested and appalled expressions, but all you see are the contestants' heads sticking out from between the curtains, when they request more supplies.
    Jrska: Bring me another penguin, this one's busted!



It all climaxes with Jrska's scream of triumph, and her challenger being helped to a chair and fanned down. The chamber itself, somewhat resembling the hotel room from Fear and Loathing in Las Vegas, is briefly considered as a museum piece to educate future generations, before they remove the entire chamber as is and dispatch it towards the heart of the Vortex so it can be closer to Slaanesh.

Jrska takes the time to change into something black and slinky for the next challenge - trading insults. Alas, her first plan of attack - getting her opponent to agree that Slaanesh is the youngest of the Chaos Gods, then demolishing that premise on the grounds that living things, even plants, have evolved insanely extravagant displays just for a chance to f*** since before there was even any intelligent life in the Universe - backfires when her opponent agrees. After that it rapidly degenerates into comments about Jrska's vaguely canine appearance, and then to criticism of each other's sexual habits.

    Jrska: If you think I spend all my time on my back, you need an education in doggy-style

    Jrska: I must compliment you on your understanding of Slaanesh. It shows an insight so concentrated, so pure... that one might almost mistake you for a virgin.
    Opponent: Being open to all experience does not require me to open my legs for anybody. One can find favour with the Prince of Pleasure by exploring a single aspect in all detail-
    Jrska: Oh,you're admitting you're monogamous then?

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


Jrska: Ah, the Imperium of Man, where your importance is determined by the size of your shoulder-pads, and how much you cut off your own field of vision. No doubt the Emperor went around in a giant sombrero and blindfold.
 
Aladar van Rijn, it turns out, is a Rogue Trader who barely escaped with his skin when the authorities discovered his growing interest in forbidden commodities. He lost his entire fleet in the subsequent battle, and then his flagship when he fled to the Vortex and crashed on Sacgrave. Jrska has of course chosen him because he looks naive. She's right, but he swallows her flattery so completely that she starts to doubt her own judgement - maybe he really IS competent.


Jrska: After all, he goes around dressed like that and he hasn't been accosted yet. Maybe he actually can look after himself.
 
Aladar's choice of a showy ceremonial sword in a universe where half the noteworthy people carry power weapons may be evidence to the contrary.
 
The nearest itinerant Heretek is easy to recruit as well, even if he refuses to give his name.


Jrska: Hi there cogboy, how would you like your very own starship engine to fondle?
 
Jrska: Just a cog in the great machine...
Cog: Not any more.
 
Of course, there's still the need to find the thousands of crew the Chains of Judgement will need. True, there's the cannibal tribe and their leader, Mother, but who is the mysterious Father?


Jrska: Does it really matter? There's probably a whole lineage. There's Great-Uncle, who rules the aft engine compartments... And Auntie Prunella. Nobody talk about her. Nobody.
 
Ensuring Aladar and Cog's loyalty - to herself - and simultaneously making herself indispensable to Cassius.


Jrska: Lord Cassius is supremely generous to those who pledge their loyalty to him. Of course, he demands the very best from his minions, and it is my duty to ensure that you do not waste his time. So impress me and I'll put in the good word.
Cassius' player: .... Wow. Off to one of the many wrecks on Sacgrave, where we have been told the Tyrant's Cord may be found. Things to avoid en route - the many Dark Eldar amusing themselves at the fighting pits, buying slaves, etc, and the mutant inhabitants of the ruins beyond the settlement. Although the latter may be useful as material components of Cassius' prognostications.


Jrska: Try not to attract their attention.
Cog: Don't piss off the Dark Eldar.
Cassius: Good advice for any Eldar.
Jrska: Well, the Light Eldar are less likely to torture you to death.
GM: ... Perhaps.
Jrska: The Light Eldar will kill you. The Dark Eldar will kill you - eventually.
 
Jrska: Hello mutants! Small, poorly defended party here! Easy pickings!
 
Somewhat suspiciously, Garath's crashed ship has not been stripped and salvaged yet. That might be because the shipyards of Q'sal are infamous for welding technology and demonology.


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


Me: This being the Imperium, the potato is probably extinct and replaced by the Vampire Squash
 
Cog: Has anything big and nasty arrived recently?
Jrska: Apart from Rold Dundee?
 
Somewhat frustratingly, everybody seems too scared of retribution to identify the perps we're pursuing. Not unreasonable of them, so Jrska reasonably resorts to dragging a random pedestrian into an alleyway and torturing the information out of them. It's not much, but the antagonists include TWO space marines, a heretek, and a witch. Jrska turns the victim loose, still mostly intact.


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


Jrska : I'm sure you'll be useful to my Master one way another - perhaps in his rituals.
 
As intended, they assume she means human sacrifice, and suddenly fall over themselves to be helpful. All Cassius actually needs are names to focus his precognition.


Cassius: I'm not about unnecessary cruelty.
Cog: You said that with a straight face. I'm impressed.
 
Cassius enacts his divinations, and Jrska is targeted by a Dark Eldar looking for someone to humiliate.


GM: As long as you keep grovelling, he's going to keep demeaning you.
Jrska: Don't knock it til you've tried it, sweety.
 
Jrska keeps the Eldar distracted by a fine display of cringing, long enough for Aladar to figure out what she's doing, and shoot the alien in the back of the head. Of course, since his choice of weapon is a pretty, but pretty feeble , laspistol, the ensuing melee comes as something of a surprise. Nonetheless, they triumph, and the Eldar's Agoniser sword and Lacerator pistol are claimed as trophies.


Jrska: *giving Aladar her very best leer* Remind me to show you how grateful I am, later.
Aladar van Rijn: 8-(
 
And off to the Vaults, in the hope of getting ahead of our enemies and setting up a high explosive ambush. Aladar's experience as a starship commander proves unhelpful.


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

I should have known -- if anyone is going to weaponize a Smut Field, it's going to be Drhoz or someone in one of his campaigns.
 
 
Major Tom 2009

This one is from a dnd game that took place a while ago, as in back in 2nd edition AD&D. I am reminded of the incident whenever I see my signature. Now that signatures are visible again, I am reminded every time I post. So here we go
 
The setup: We were in the DMs homebrew setting. Bear in mind that said DM did not understand the concept of foreshadowing. Whenever he mentioned an evil menace, we'd end up facing said menace in no less than 2 gaming sessions (depending upon the length of the dungeon crawl.
 
We had just rolled into town, taking note of large scorch marks across the country-side. As we had a wizard in the party with a staff of fireballs, we thought nothing of it as the DM liked to describe the scorchmarks left by said staff.
 
The townpeople told us they were besieged by the Dragon Dethpyr (DM lacked in creative naming - the town was named Hamletown). They told us Dethpyr laired in the Shadow Stone Mountains, and begged us to save them.
 
So after spending an entire session with the Cleric wanting to heal every person in town who was injured and the thief wanting to loot what was left of the treasury, we set out.
 
In the Black Forest we encountered a band of trolls that were fleeing the dragon. We killed the trolls and took their stuff, but the shaman said "May Dethpyr take your souls." That was the end of session one. After that we reached the mountains and had to deal with a city of stonegiants that was in the midst of a civil war. We saved the city, and the king gave us a sword of dragon slaying. That was session two. So far, no dragon.
 
Session three: we climbed Death Peak. Fought some gargoyles and other random encounters. Had many warnings about a dragon. No dragon.
 
Sessions four through six: Dungeon Crawl in what is supposed to be Dethpyr's lair. Lots of references by his minions about a dragon. But did we find a dragon? No.
 
Session seven: made our way to the bottom level of the dungeon after a quartet of iron golems and a swarm of rust monsters. Found the dragon's hoard in a small crater overlooking a cliff and a pool of magma. There were some guardians but no dragon. The thief is messing with a treasure chest, the cleric is healing the wizard while he uses detect magic to figure out what loot is magical so we can prioritize it. The ranger looks at my character, the paladin and gets a wide-eyed look on his face (same character kept pranking my paladin by saying the dragon was behind me) and points screaming "Dragon!"
 
My Paladin: "What dragon? I'm sick of hearing about the dragon! When I see the dragon, I'm gonna kick his @$$!"
 
Dethpyr: "Oooh, lunch!" Crunch!
 
The dragon ate my paladin and had a magma chaser. Needless to say I did not survive.

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


Cassius, a Space Marine formerly of the Storm Crows chapter, who realised that the Imperium is doomed, that the Lords of Terra have betrayed the Emperor's vision of an entirely secular humanity, and thathis entire life has been built on a lie. Despite the fact that the next few hours will see him getting advice from mutants and assistance from rogue psykers, and making deals with demons, still denies he's fallen to Chaos. Naturally, the rest of us find this hilarious.
 
Rold Dundee, escapee from the prison world of St Annand's Penance (the player wanted a world like Australia - since St Annand is a desert inhabited solely by convicts, deadly reptiles, and venomous insects, I thought it counted). Out for revenge. Since he's spent the last 200 years in astasis cage in an Inquisitorial ship, the trail might be a tad cold.
Me: Somehow I can picture a scene that goes "That's not a daemon weapon, THIS is a daemon weapon"

Kastalla, a rogue Psyker, who is determined to live forever by killing anything that threatens her. This, too, is hilarious.
 
Jrska, hyena-headed beastwoman mutant, native of the Screaming Vortex warp storm, and enthusiastic devotee of the Lord of Excess and Pleasure, Slaneesh. Played by yours truly, and oh my it's going to be fun.  
Waking up in the deep holds of the Imperial ship, when the power to the stasis cages finally runs out. By the looks of things some kind of riot broke out, most of the inmates were incinerated in their cells, and we got lucky. It also sounds like the ship in dead in space. While Cassius interrogates the servo-skulls, Jrska finds a bit of debris to run along the bars, as she sings.


Jrska: *singing* "Nobody knows the trouble I've been"
 
Cassius is less than impressed by the company he's keeping when he wakes up.


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


Jrska: What a waste. Well, I suppose that's what happens when you use all those steroids...
Cassius OOC: Well, maybe I'll get a mutation to fix it.
Kastalla OOC: Now we know why Horus fell to Chaos
Cassius OOC: 'I'll finally be able to get some' Shortly thereafter, we encounter three scavengers who dare contest Cassius's ownership of the power armour they're dragging out of one of the interrogation labs. Jrska picks a suitable ledge to perch on and watch the show, and comments to Kastalla and Dundee


Jrska:This is why I need some kind of automated popcorn dispenser following me around.
 
Everybody else's equipment is in the interrogation lab too, including Jrska's neural whip (lovingly run across her hands, the metal barbs tickling delightfully), her venomous pet Thing (part standard poodle, part Gila Monster), and her backpack full of Hallucinogen Grenades.


Jrska: *offering a handful to Cassius* Party favour?
 
There are, naturally, elevated walkways aboard the ship.


Jrska: *sings*... do my little turn on the catwalk...
 
Finding and going through the prisoner records, security keys, identity lanyards, etc. Jrska collects many of the latter as accessories, while the others get on with the business at hand.


Jrska: Did they get my good side?
Rold Dundee: Do you even have a good side?
Jrska: Of course I do! See? Nice backside too. *leer*
 
Jrska: Who's a good Thing. Who's a good Thing. You always wanted to be an assistant warden, didn't you? Didn't you? Good boy.
 
Jrska: Thing's bling
 
Bluffing our way past the cannibal tribe, Jrska proves her worth to Cassius.


Jrska: Excuse me?! Who do you think we are? Who do you think YOU are? *invading the cannibal's personal space* Even in your wildest dreams, what led you to think you had any say in where we go and who we see?
Cannibal: *nervously conferring with colleagues* You may see Mother now.
Jrska: Yes, yes we will. Lead the way.
Cassius: Now that's useful.
 
Jrska: And what are you doing later?
Cannibal: Eating you
Jrska: *leers* Oh, yes please.
GM: I walked right into that one, didn't I?
 
Rold is a bit uncomfortable with Jrska's uncontrolled lechery.


Rold Dundee: There has to be somebody else that looks better, I'm covered in dirt
Jrska: Hey, I have been in a stasis cell for two hundred years. A girl has needs. Though there's always Kastalla - I don't mind the scars. After a session with me she'll probably have more - it's not a proper party till someone loses an eye.
 
Jrska: Is that a gun in your hand or are you just here to jerk off?
 
Thing falls in battle, thanks to Kastalla loosing control of her abilities.


Jrska: I'll have your ovaries for this, bitch!
 
Jrska: Poor thing... He was such a good beast... The things he could do with his tongue!
All: Headdesk
Me: I told you you'd regret letting me play a Slaneeshi cultist.
 
Jrska skins a survivor alive with the edge of a power blade, in honour of her lost Thing. And since it's a entire party of evil characters, and Chaos to boot, the pecking-order and backstabbing has already been established. But since we're not stupid, none of us are willing to backstab the others while they're still useful, and if there's any chance they'll survive to retaliate. That doesn't stop a venomous rivalry between Jrska and Kastalla, especially after Kastalla reveals she can be just as manipulative and charismatic as the beastwoman.


Kastalla OOC: I've got Radiant Presence too.
Jrska: Bitch.
Kastalla: Slut.
Cassius: Skank.
 
Jrska: *innocently* If we're talking about implanted weaponry, I once knew a man with a Crotch rocket
All: Headdesk
 
Eventually, we discover the Inquisitor who captured us welded to the floor and host to a daemon - highly amusing - and we are warned that the ship's head interrogator is himself out of stasis and planning to drop the ship out of Warpspace and signal for help - less amusing. The daemon is going to need a new host body if he is going to assist. One of the cannibals will do nicely. Cassius makes a deal that they will free the daemon and give him a new host, on the condition he swears not to harm the party, and assists with taken down the Interrogator and any surviving Imperial servants. The rest of the cannibals are a little upset at what happens to the one that was volunteered.


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


Jrska: Thank you, Lord Cassius... *to Dundee* See? You've got to know when to flatter.
 
Cassius: Did anybody NOT see that coming?
Jrska: *shrugs* Premature, perhaps.
Cassius: It happens - performance anxiety
 
But now we need to nudge the ship into the Screaming Vortex, and away from Imperial retribution - happily, Cassius only needs to eat a few parts of the Interrogator to gain the necessary skill. Jrska gets to work on the naked and securely bound Crane.


Jrska: Hello. I need you to answer a question for us - which of your appendages do you value least?
Kastalla: *pointing at the obvious* That one.
Jrska: Well, obviously, but I'm not going to make Lord Cassius eat that.
Crane: Abomination! You will get no answers from me! The God-Emperor will-
Jrska: Tongue it is then *slice* .
 
And so into the Screaming Vortex.


Jrska: It's good to be home. I really don't know how men can live out there. Having black night skies is so boring - how can they stand to live somewhere where the sky isn't the colour of a poisonous orchid?
 
The derelict ship materialises over a world wracked by perpetual war between Slaneesh and Nurgle.


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


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

Teh Bunneh?
 
(spoilered for animation)
 
 

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

Rold Dundee: The 'Twilight' series
Jrska: Oh, no, just a few of my favourites - '120 days of Sodom - Scratch & Sniff Edition', and this one... I really like this one... lavishly illustrated, half the pages stuck together, describing in exquisite detail how the author took everything good and moral and righteous and perverted them into things so unholy that the universe itself recoiled in horror... it's called "What I Did On My Holidays'
 
Jrska: We could also watch some old vids... Pacific Rimjob... Bender's Game... Girl With A Pearl Necklace... 9 1/2 Wanks
GM: Saving Ryan's Privates
Jrska: 'Star Whores Episode IV : A New Hole'. That was a good one. Twincest, big black men waving their weapons around, breath denial, and years of argument about premature ejaculation.
All: ....
Jrska: 'Han shot first'
All: *headdesk* Anyway - we are currently orbiting the planet Pyrultide, which itself is currently swinging near the labyrinthine ruins of Sacgrave. We have a nearly derelict ship, a tribe of cannibals for a crew, and the freedom of Chaos to do whatever we now wish.

Jrska: We can take the cannibals with us. They can set up a restaurant. Just picture it - you've already got The Fat Duck, now we can have The Long Pig. On the other hand, pork's nice, but I prefer veal. *waits in vain for a response from the others* Ah well. We can't ALL be quick on the uptake. Alas, yet another individual claims credit for our survival of the last 200 years - the ancient, and badly mutated, Navigator of the Chains of Judgement. Exactly how many people have managed to survive 200 years on this ship, anyway? He demands we acquiesce to his own plans, and has already signalled to Sacgrave as part of his scheme to get a proper crew, in return for some mercenary work by Cassius (and the rest of us).

Mutant Navigator : How do you think you have survived the last 200 years? That you have not been cast upon the reefs of the Warp?
Rold Dundee: Gellar field.
Jrska: Stasis tanks are good for that too.
 
GM: ....I haven't thought of a name for this guy.
Unnamed Mutant Navigator : Names are unimportant.
All: *Applaud the GM*
Rold Dundee's player: 'I haven't used my name in 200 years, I've forgotten.' Regardless, Cassius does not take kindly to any attempts to enlist his service - understandable, given the way the Imperium betrayed him and the Emperor's vision. He shoots up the communication monitor. Jrska politely makes herself scarce - such lack of self-control does not bode well for her own plans for the former Space Marine.

Jrska: Violence towards inanimate objects is alarming. Violence towards animate objects is amusing. The Navigator backs down after Cassius sets out to hunt him down through the ship and demonstrate the Navigator's error of judgement.

Cassius: He doesn't need his arms and legs to navigate.
 
Me: He just misjudged what you were capable of - we already know you're capable of superhuman levels of Denial. Nonetheless, we do need more crew. Or any crew. And Sacgrave is a good source for anything a warband might need. We decide to meet with this mystery contact on Sacgrave anyway.
 
How to make PCs paranoid.

GM: One of the lighters is strangely untouched.
Cassius: Then let us not marr its pristine condition.
 
Jrska: We can tell if this part of town is Slaaneshi or Nurglite by counting bathhouses. Slaanesh has them, Nurgle needs them.
 
Jrska: Flamers would be quite useful against followers of Nurgle.
Cassius: And the followers of Slaanesh will just enjoy it. The contact, Garath, has sent a beautiful slave to meet us at the landing zone. Jrska, of course, ogles. As she points out, the only reason to own and send such an attractive slave is to show her off and make others jealous, and it would be rude to not respond.

Jrska: Lead the way. You! Manservant! Carry Lord Cassius' luggage!
Rold Dundee: But he doesn't have any.
Jrska: Just pick up something and carry that.
 
Jrska: We have come to meet with you, in accordance with the prophecy.
Rold Dundee OOC: What prophecy?
Jrska OOC: Their isn't one. But there's no way it can hurt us if they think there is.
 
Cassius : I need crew for my ship.
Garath, with suspicious innocence: Oh?
Jrska OOC: *sigh* Anyone want to bet we still have a ship when we come back? .... No takers? Jrska 'speaking for her lord Cassius', negotiates the deal - we recover something called the Tyrant's Cord - a potent symbol of mastery of the Pox Tribes of Pyrultide - and either sell it to Garath, or at least ensure it doesn't fall into the hands of his rivals. Cassius growls his discontent for the bargain - after all, he'll be taking most of the risk. Jrska translate this into more polite language.

Jrska: Please understand, my lord is of mercurial temper. Master Garath, what incentive can you offer to ensure we do not simply sell this information to your rivals?
Real Life: *Lights fade out ominously* The understandably irked Garath now insists we only sell the Cord to him, but he will arrange good credit for us at the markets on Sacgrave. Shopping Time!

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

Me: Jrska is getting you a best quality armour polishing kit, so you'll owe her a favour, and which you can use to better serve Lord Cassius.
Other players: *Eyes bug out*
Me: Slaanesh cultist - it's all social manipulation. Some amusement in the markets, when Jrska gets three locals to argue amongst themselves as to which one is selling a genuine treasure map - all of them, apparently - and when Rold is provoked into a fight with a lightning-hurling mercenary, and that rapidly escalates. It turns out that the mercs were simply testing us, and are duly impressed. They are not, however, impressed by Cassius' offer of employment

Mercenaries : Yeah, but will you pay us?
Cassius: All the loot you can carry.
Dundee's player: 'Aw, but we're all DEX-based'
 
Jrska: I didn't get to sing all the songs I was hoping to.
Cassius: For which we are grateful

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

Rold Dundee: The 'Twilight' series
Jrska: Oh, no, just a few of my favourites - '120 days of Sodom - Scratch & Sniff Edition', and this one... I really like this one... lavishly illustrated, half the pages stuck together, describing in exquisite detail how the author took everything good and moral and righteous and perverted them into things so unholy that the universe itself recoiled in horror... it's called "What I Did On My Holidays'
 
Jrska: We could also watch some old vids... Pacific Rimjob... Bender's Game... Girl With A Pearl Necklace... 9 1/2 Wanks
GM: Saving Ryan's Privates
Jrska: 'Star Whores Episode IV : A New Hole'. That was a good one. Twincest, big black men waving their weapons around, breath denial, and years of argument about premature ejaculation.
All: ....
Jrska: 'Han shot first'
All: *headdesk* Anyway - we are currently orbiting the planet Pyrultide, which itself is currently swinging near the labyrinthine ruins of Sacgrave. We have a nearly derelict ship, a tribe of cannibals for a crew, and the freedom of Chaos to do whatever we now wish.

Jrska: We can take the cannibals with us. They can set up a restaurant. Just picture it - you've already got The Fat Duck, now we can have The Long Pig. On the other hand, pork's nice, but I prefer veal. *waits in vain for a response from the others* Ah well. We can't ALL be quick on the uptake. Alas, yet another individual claims credit for our survival of the last 200 years - the ancient, and badly mutated, Navigator of the Chains of Judgement. Exactly how many people have managed to survive 200 years on this ship, anyway? He demands we acquiesce to his own plans, and has already signalled to Sacgrave as part of his scheme to get a proper crew, in return for some mercenary work by Cassius (and the rest of us).

Mutant Navigator : How do you think you have survived the last 200 years? That you have not been cast upon the reefs of the Warp?
Rold Dundee: Gellar field.
Jrska: Stasis tanks are good for that too.
 
GM: ....I haven't thought of a name for this guy.
Unnamed Mutant Navigator : Names are unimportant.
All: *Applaud the GM*
Rold Dundee's player: 'I haven't used my name in 200 years, I've forgotten.' Regardless, Cassius does not take kindly to any attempts to enlist his service - understandable, given the way the Imperium betrayed him and the Emperor's vision. He shoots up the communication monitor. Jrska politely makes herself scarce - such lack of self-control does not bode well for her own plans for the former Space Marine.

Jrska: Violence towards inanimate objects is alarming. Violence towards animate objects is amusing. The Navigator backs down after Cassius sets out to hunt him down through the ship and demonstrate the Navigator's error of judgement.

Cassius: He doesn't need his arms and legs to navigate.
 
Me: He just misjudged what you were capable of - we already know you're capable of superhuman levels of Denial. Nonetheless, we do need more crew. Or any crew. And Sacgrave is a good source for anything a warband might need. We decide to meet with this mystery contact on Sacgrave anyway.
 
How to make PCs paranoid.

GM: One of the lighters is strangely untouched.
Cassius: Then let us not marr its pristine condition.
 
Jrska: We can tell if this part of town is Slaaneshi or Nurglite by counting bathhouses. Slaanesh has them, Nurgle needs them.
 
Jrska: Flamers would be quite useful against followers of Nurgle.
Cassius: And the followers of Slaanesh will just enjoy it. The contact, Garath, has sent a beautiful slave to meet us at the landing zone. Jrska, of course, ogles. As she points out, the only reason to own and send such an attractive slave is to show her off and make others jealous, and it would be rude to not respond.

Jrska: Lead the way. You! Manservant! Carry Lord Cassius' luggage!
Rold Dundee: But he doesn't have any.
Jrska: Just pick up something and carry that.
 
Jrska: We have come to meet with you, in accordance with the prophecy.
Rold Dundee OOC: What prophecy?
Jrska OOC: Their isn't one. But there's no way it can hurt us if they think there is.
 
Cassius : I need crew for my ship.
Garath, with suspicious innocence: Oh?
Jrska OOC: *sigh* Anyone want to bet we still have a ship when we come back? .... No takers? Jrska 'speaking for her lord Cassius', negotiates the deal - we recover something called the Tyrant's Cord - a potent symbol of mastery of the Pox Tribes of Pyrultide - and either sell it to Garath, or at least ensure it doesn't fall into the hands of his rivals. Cassius growls his discontent for the bargain - after all, he'll be taking most of the risk. Jrska translate this into more polite language.

Jrska: Please understand, my lord is of mercurial temper. Master Garath, what incentive can you offer to ensure we do not simply sell this information to your rivals?
Real Life: *Lights fade out ominously* The understandably irked Garath now insists we only sell the Cord to him, but he will arrange good credit for us at the markets on Sacgrave. Shopping Time!

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

Me: Jrska is getting you a best quality armour polishing kit, so you'll owe her a favour, and which you can use to better serve Lord Cassius.
Other players: *Eyes bug out*
Me: Slaanesh cultist - it's all social manipulation. Some amusement in the markets, when Jrska gets three locals to argue amongst themselves as to which one is selling a genuine treasure map - all of them, apparently - and when Rold is provoked into a fight with a lightning-hurling mercenary, and that rapidly escalates. It turns out that the mercs were simply testing us, and are duly impressed. They are not, however, impressed by Cassius' offer of employment

Mercenaries : Yeah, but will you pay us?
Cassius: All the loot you can carry.
Dundee's player: 'Aw, but we're all DEX-based'
 
Jrska: I didn't get to sing all the songs I was hoping to.
Cassius: For which we are grateful