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| | tylorva: Mercution follows, reluctantly putting his guns and knives on the floor. Sand just whimpers - he doesn't have any weapons to drop. Horatio gives a loud vulgar laugh. "Not so tough now." The chaos sorcerer meanwhile just smiles. "Very wise," he says. "Take them." And you are all promptly jumped upon and separated. | | tylorva: Mercution follows, reluctantly putting his guns and knives on the floor. Sand just whimpers - he doesn't have any weapons to drop. Horatio gives a loud vulgar laugh. "Not so tough now." The chaos sorcerer meanwhile just smiles. "Very wise," he says. "Take them." And you are all promptly jumped upon and separated. |
| | | | |
| − | ==Separated from each other: Atella== | + | ==Separated from each other: Clavis== |
| − | tylorva: You are hauled off into a small room that seems to have been set up as some kind of interrogation chamber. You are stripped of your armour and possession quite swiftly. A wooden chair with straps is in the middle of the room and you are forced down into it and strapped down, then left along for a while.
| |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella fumes in silence
| + | tylorva: You are dragged away from the others through the tunnels and into a small room that seems to have been set up as some kind of cell. A pair of shackles hang from the ceiling and your wrists are soon locked into them, then you are searched. Both Vika's seal and the Inquisition vox unit seem to get a lot of attention and are swiftly removed. For a while you are left alone. |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: After a while, the door opens and an older-looking man in a plain black robe enters the room. He is burly and bearded and gives a cheerful smile. "Hello," he says.
| + | Clavis_Morden: ((Clavis is also carrying Alcoth's seal, which we forgot to return ... yeah, we really should have done that)) |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Hello. I'd give you a hand, but..."
| + | tylorva: (( They take that too. :) )) |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella moves her hand against the restraints
| + | Clavis_Morden: endures the restraints and the search as best she can. She's seen worse - but never in the hands of the Archenemy's minions! |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Protection, I'm sure you understand." he waves his hand dismissively.
| + | Clavis_Morden: Tears flow in frustration and shame and pain, but they flow in silence. |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "I'm not dangerous."
| + | tylorva: After a while, the door opens and the sorcerer comes in. He's changed his outfit - no more fancy robes and headdress, now he is just wearing a plain black robe. His face is pale, veins showing through and he has a few whisps of white hair on his scalp which is covered in sockets for plugs and implants. he stands and stares for a moment. |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Of course you're not. But I am."
| + | Clavis_Morden: does not meet his eyes, keeping her attention fixed on his black robes. |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Shouldn't... you be in the chair then?"
| + | tylorva: "Look at me." |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella tries to shrug
| + | Clavis_Morden: ((in what tone does he speak?)) |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "just saying"
| + | tylorva: (( Very firm and commanding. )) |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He chuckles. "No, i don't think so." He pulls up a chair and sits down in front of you. "My name is Calyn Raxus," he says. "You are?
| + | Clavis_Morden: After a moment's consideration Clavis does raise her eyes. |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Tired, pissed off, beat up, tied to a chair"
| + | tylorva: "Very good." He stares straight at you. "Name?" |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "You can call me Atella though"
| + | Clavis_Morden: "Castus. Silentia Castus." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He chuckles again. "Glad to see you are keeping your humour up. What are you doing here, Atella? Down here in the Underhive I mean. You don't exactly belong here, do you?" | + | tylorva: (( Give me a decieve roll )) |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Getting out from under a death sentence, you?"
| + | Clavis_Morden: ((3 DoF)) |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella looks around
| + | Clavis_Morden: ((apart from the shackles and the two of us, is there anything or anyone else in the room?)) |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "though this place seems to be just as deadly"
| + | tylorva: He gives an ominous growl. "You do not lie to me," he says in that firm cold voice as his cold hand grips your chin. "I can pluck the truth straight out of your mind if I want. Spare me the trouble." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Oh, it's worse. I'm not from here originally, but I've been down here long enough to learn the ins and outs. You're an arbitrator?" | + | tylorva: (( Nope. )) |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella looks down at herself
| + | Clavis_Morden: "Alright, alright!" Clavis doesn't have to try very hard to appear panicked. The fear is there in truth, after all. She looks down. "Kadis Solomon, sir, rank of Sanctionite." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "is it written on my forehead or something?"
| + | Clavis_Morden: ((yeah, not happening)) |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "No, but the armour was a giveaway. Nonetheless, you could have stolen it." | + | tylorva: He keeps tight hold of your chin, staring straight into your eyes and he enforces his will against yours to probe straight into your mind. |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella shrugs again
| + | Clavis_Morden: ((besides the black robes, is he wearing anything, have any tattoos, any other identifying marks?)) |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Why did you come here, Atella?"
| + | Clavis_Morden: ((opposed WP, I assume?)) |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Told you."
| + | tylorva: (( nope, nothing visible. )) |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "No you didn't." | + | tylorva: (( Yup, Standard mind scan this time, so opposed Wp )) |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Trying to get out of a death sentence."
| + | Clavis_Morden: composes her thoughts into the Tower of Iron Will, shutting out the invasive foreign thoughts. |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "That's a motivation. It's not a reason." | + | tylorva: He seems surprised and steps back, staring at you. "Strong," he says approvingly. "Such a waste." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Oh. I was sent to find someone. Of course, that someone isn't even here."
| + | Clavis_Morden: Clavis doesn't react to the compliment beyond the twitch of a smile. No matter who it is, it is nice to be appreciated. "You'll just use my name in one of your foul rites if I give it to you. I might as well grant myself the Emperor's Mercy instead." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Who?"
| + | Clavis_Morden: "I'd be better off." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "I don't know his real name."
| + | Clavis_Morden: ((did they take Clavis' Psykana Mercy Blade, btw?)) |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Then what name do you have?" | + | tylorva: (( Yup )) |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella sighs
| + | Clavis_Morden: She frowns as she remembers that the vile cultists took away her Psykana Mercy Blade. Beyond the conditioning that screams at her for being without that safety measure she feels strangely naked without it. |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Kirian or something"
| + | tylorva: He shrugs slightly. "Your Emperor no longer cares, if he ever did." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "I really have nothing against the rest of you guys."
| + | Clavis_Morden: No dwelling on that, though! Stay strong, keep your focus. Inwardly Clavis begins the litany of Contempt again. |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He seems to recognise the name and raises a bushy eyebrow. "And what is Vika Shaeye's interest in Kirian?"
| + | Clavis_Morden: ((Protective Invocation again)) |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella barks a laugh
| + | Clavis_Morden: "I have set foot on Holy Terra," Clavis says quietly. "Your heresies can't touch me." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "You really think I've been told anything useful?"
| + | tylorva: "You're a witch. Condemned and feared by all of the Imperium. Why would you care?" |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "I got a choice between 'die now' or 'find this guy'"
| + | Clavis_Morden: "I am *sanctioned*!" Though no louder than her earlier words it comes out with the force of a scream. "Tested and found true by the agents of the Golden Throne. I am no witch, whatever they might call me. We are nothing alike!" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Yes. I think you were."
| + | Clavis_Morden: Some distant part of Clavis' mind marvels that she can speak to her captor like this, that the fear doesn't paralyze her tongue or her mind. |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella shrugs
| + | tylorva: "Are we not?" He pulls up the sleeve of his robe to show a sanctioning brand on the inside of his left arm. It looks just like yours, just older and more withered. "I too have stood on the so-called Holy Terra." He spits. "I too stood at the base of the Golden Throne. And I saw it for the lie it was." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Well, you think wrong."
| + | Clavis_Morden: recoils insofar as the the shackles allow it. "Apostate. Traitor." It is almost unthinkable. A latent never found by the Black Ships, a youth with his Psykana training unfinished, a defective breaking under the strain - she can understand those, maybe even forgive them. |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "No offense."
| + | Clavis_Morden: But someone turning to the Archenemy with their eyes open, betraying the Adeptus and all of humanity despite knowing, *knowing* the face of evil. It's unforgivable. |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He gives another friendly chuckle. "Well, if you really are of no use, i suppose I'll have to kill you now." He reaches into his robes for some kind of weapon.
| + | Clavis_Morden: And nothing she could ever understand. |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Really, I know how this works. I know how irritating it can be when they don't tell you the truth, so trust me when I say I am."
| + | tylorva: "To you maybe. But I simpley broke through the chains and became free. You're a slave and you don't even know it..." He strokes a cold finger down your cheek. |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Oh I believe you. That's the problem. Any last words?"
| + | Clavis_Morden: shakes her head, denying the notion beyond just the mental realm. "Tainted. Corrupted. Forsaken. That's what *you* are. I never want to understand the logic that lead you down this path, if it even has anything to do with logic." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "You could just let me go, you know. I don't even want to be here. I don't care what you do down here."
| + | Clavis_Morden: "Your daemonic idols will consume you body and soul. You say you are free? Hah." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "I could. But that would be very foolish of me." | + | ==Separated from each other: Atella== |
| | + | tylorva: You are hauled off into a small room that seems to have been set up as some kind of interrogation chamber. You are stripped of your armour and possession quite swiftly. A wooden chair with straps is in the middle of the room and you are forced down into it and strapped down, then left along for a while. |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Really? How so?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Because I am intelligent enough to simply kill useless prisoners. And so far you seem particularly useless."
| + | ***Atella fumes in silence |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Hey, that's hurtful. It's not because I don't know some little piece of information that I'm useless"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Then what use are you?" | + | tylorva: After a while, the door opens and an older-looking man in a plain black robe enters the room. He is burly and bearded and gives a cheerful smile. "Hello," he says. |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella shrugs
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "What do you need done?" | + | Atella: "Hello. I'd give you a hand, but..." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Well for a start I need Reinhardt taken care of. But I'm hardly going to entrust that to you, am I?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "... yeah, no." | + | ***Atella moves her hand against the restraints |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "You know Reinhardt?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He ignores the question. "So tell me. What use are you? Why shouldn't I kill you here?" He draws a particularly vicious-looking knife from his robe - it has serrated edges and a carved handle that just looks wrong somehow. | + | tylorva: "Protection, I'm sure you understand." he waves his hand dismissively. |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella shrugs again
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Because I'm funny?" | + | Atella: "I'm not dangerous." |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella tries not to look at the knife
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "In your dreams maybe." | + | tylorva: "Of course you're not. But I am." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "You could use me as muscle?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "I have a whole gang of muscle, that are reliably loyal."
| + | Atella: "Shouldn't... you be in the chair then?" |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella thinks
| |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella sighs | + | ***Atella tries to shrug |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella hesitates
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Anyone you want fucked?" | + | Atella: "just saying" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He raises an eyebrow again. "That's the best you can offer?" He snorts derisevely.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Oh hey, now you're hurting my feelings again."
| + | tylorva: He chuckles. "No, i don't think so." He pulls up a chair and sits down in front of you. "My name is Calyn Raxus," he says. "You are? |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "You could just send me back to Vika?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Sure. In pieces. That would send a very useful message, would it not?"
| + | Atella: "Tired, pissed off, beat up, tied to a chair" |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "I don't know. Not very useful."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Easy to misunderstand too." | + | Atella: "You can call me Atella though" |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Ambiguous even."
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Oh, but my master knows Vika Shaeye. She's hardly the sort of person to take things ambiguously, is she? She sees things in their simplest form." | + | tylorva: He chuckles again. "Glad to see you are keeping your humour up. What are you doing here, Atella? Down here in the Underhive I mean. You don't exactly belong here, do you?" |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella shrugs again
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "I've only met her briefly." | + | Atella: "Getting out from under a death sentence, you?" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "I' sure that was long enough."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Well, she did impress me." | + | ***Atella looks around |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "In what way?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "She's so... masterful and striking." | + | Atella: "though this place seems to be just as deadly" |
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| − | tylorva: "You say that like you're in love with here." He does seem to be interested though and has lowered the knife slightly.
| |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella smiles
| + | tylorva: "Oh, it's worse. I'm not from here originally, but I've been down here long enough to learn the ins and outs. You're an arbitrator?" |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Love is probably too grand a word. I might have a small crush on her though."
| |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella shrugs again | + | ***Atella looks down at herself |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "What's a girl to do?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: The man bursts out laughing. "Why are you here, Atella? Why did Vika send you here?"
| + | Atella: "is it written on my forehead or something?" |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "She... didn't really send me here. We're following clues, and we figured this might be a good place to start. Shows what we know, huh"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "What are you looking for then?" | + | tylorva: "No, but the armour was a giveaway. Nonetheless, you could have stolen it." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Told you. That Kirian guy. And no, I don't know why. They say jump and I say 'okay, please don't kill me'"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "So what you are saying is that you are a mere grunt with no useful information or understanding and who has a slight crush on your inquisitor?"
| + | ***Atella shrugs again |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "If you want to be blunt about it..."
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He shrugs. "Well, it sounds like you'll be more useful dead, than alive." He starts advancing towards you with the knife. | + | tylorva: "Why did you come here, Atella?" |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella sighs
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Do we *have* to go through this again?" | + | Atella: "Told you." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Killing me will bloody your nice chair and floor. You could just let me go. I won't come back, honest."
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "No, I have another use in mind." He grabs your head to hold it still. "Don't move. You'll only make it hurt more." He holds the tip of the knife to your cheek. (Opposed strength if you want to struggle )) | + | tylorva: "No you didn't." |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella freezes
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "I don't know if you've noticed, but I don't need a shave. Thanks tho." | + | Atella: "Trying to get out of a death sentence." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: The man carves something into the flesh of your cheek. And by the Emperor does that hurt - not just from the pain of cutting, but it feels like it is burning right into your soul. And yet you are strong and manage to hold out, both against the physical pain and... this other. When he is finished, blood trickles down the side of your face.
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He stands back to admire his handiwork. | + | tylorva: "That's a motivation. It's not a reason." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "That *hurt*. What the blazes did you do?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "You are chosen now," he says.
| + | Atella: "Oh. I was sent to find someone. Of course, that someone isn't even here." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "... what kind of chosen? Chosen for what?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "To be of use. To be of value to my master. You can go now. Your time will come." He turns to leave. | + | tylorva: "Who?" |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella jerks
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Hello? Still tied down here?" | + | Atella: "I don't know his real name." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He ignores that and leaves, slamming the door behind him.
| |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella sighs
| + | tylorva: "Then what name do you have?" |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella tests the bonds
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: They are very good. A few minutes later, one of the gangers comes in and unties you. "You're with us now then?" he says cheerfully.
| + | ***Atella sighs |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "I've been informed I've been 'chosen', whatever that means"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "You're so lucky." He swiftly removes the bonds and you are free to stand.
| + | Atella: "Kirian or something" |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella stretches
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Oh yeah, I feel really lucky." | + | Atella: "I really have nothing against the rest of you guys." |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella touches her face and looks at the blood on her fingers
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "You guys have a mirror or something?"
| + | tylorva: He seems to recognise the name and raises a bushy eyebrow. "And what is Vika Shaeye's interest in Kirian?" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: It still feels like it is burning. "Sure," says the ganger and fishes out a shard of mirror wrapped with tape to prevent the edges from cutting into everything.
| |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella tries to look at whatever's carved into her cheek | + | ***Atella barks a laugh |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: Some kind of symbol has been carved there - it looks simplar to the symbols that had been dotted around the chaos shrine. The edges of the wound seem to be blackening already - it looks very obvious.
| |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella winces
| + | Atella: "You really think I've been told anything useful?" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: The ganger hands you a cloth to clean up the wound slightly.
| |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella dabs at the blood
| + | Atella: "I got a choice between 'die now' or 'find this guy'" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: It continues to burn and throb. The pain doesn't seem to be abating.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Do you have one of these too?"
| + | tylorva: "Yes. I think you were." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "I wish," he says. "Ishik got one and after the ritual he became like a super hero. you know?" He grins cheesily. "Course that was before them inquisition people blew him up."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "That... doesn't sound very super" | + | ***Atella shrugs |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "He was an idiot though. Went up against Reinhardt."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "You guys know Reinhardt?" | + | Atella: "Well, you think wrong." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "As an enemy."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Not very likeable, is he" | + | Atella: "No offense." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "He's a prat. He's killed too many of us. I want him to die." The kid looks sincere.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "He'd probably kill you without breaking a sweat tho"
| + | tylorva: He gives another friendly chuckle. "Well, if you really are of no use, i suppose I'll have to kill you now." He reaches into his robes for some kind of weapon. |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella stretches again
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Not if we all work together! And if you join us..." He reaches out and touches the mark on your cheek.
| + | Atella: "Really, I know how this works. I know how irritating it can be when they don't tell you the truth, so trust me when I say I am." |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella grabs his hand before he can touch her
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Sorry, but it hurts like hell, so I'd rather you don't touch it"
| + | tylorva: "Oh I believe you. That's the problem. Any last words?" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "I'm sorry!" he wimpers. "They say the pain is there to always remind you of the Master."
| |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella lets him go
| + | Atella: "You could just let me go, you know. I don't even want to be here. I don't care what you do down here." |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella gets out of the room
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: She finds herself back out amongst the gangers and cultists, all of whom now seem to look at her with some kind of awe. | + | tylorva: "I could. But that would be very foolish of me." |
| | | | |
| − | ***Atella looks uncomfortable
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "Where's the other people I came in with?" | + | Atella: "Really? How so?" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Still being questioned, Chosen."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: 'Oh."
| + | tylorva: "Because I am intelligent enough to simply kill useless prisoners. And so far you seem particularly useless." |
| | | | |
| − | Atella: "So... what do you people do around here to pass the time?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | ==Separated from each other: Clavis==
| + | Atella: "Hey, that's hurtful. It's not because I don't know some little piece of information that I'm useless" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: You are dragged away from the others through the tunnels and into a small room that seems to have been set up as some kind of cell. A pair of shackles hang from the ceiling and your wrists are soon locked into them, then you are searched. Both Vika's seal and the Inquisition vox unit seem to get a lot of attention and are swiftly removed. For a while you are left alone.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((Clavis is also carrying Alcoth's seal, which we forgot to return ... yeah, we really should have done that))
| + | tylorva: "Then what use are you?" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: (( They take that too. :) ))
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: endures the restraints and the search as best she can. She's seen worse - but never in the hands of the Archenemy's minions!
| + | ***Atella shrugs |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: Tears flow in frustration and shame and pain, but they flow in silence.
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: After a while, the door opens and the sorcerer comes in. He's changed his outfit - no more fancy robes and headdress, now he is just wearing a plain black robe. His face is pale, veins showing through and he has a few whisps of white hair on his scalp which is covered in sockets for plugs and implants. he stands and stares for a moment.
| + | Atella: "What do you need done?" |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: does not meet his eyes, keeping her attention fixed on his black robes.
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Look at me." | + | tylorva: "Well for a start I need Reinhardt taken care of. But I'm hardly going to entrust that to you, am I?" |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((in what tone does he speak?))
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: (( Very firm and commanding. ))
| + | Atella: "... yeah, no." |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: After a moment's consideration Clavis does raise her eyes.
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Very good." He stares straight at you. "Name?"
| + | Atella: "You know Reinhardt?" |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "Castus. Silentia Castus."
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: (( Give me a decieve roll )) | + | tylorva: He ignores the question. "So tell me. What use are you? Why shouldn't I kill you here?" He draws a particularly vicious-looking knife from his robe - it has serrated edges and a carved handle that just looks wrong somehow. |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((3 DoF))
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((apart from the shackles and the two of us, is there anything or anyone else in the room?))
| + | ***Atella shrugs again |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He gives an ominous growl. "You do not lie to me," he says in that firm cold voice as his cold hand grips your chin. "I can pluck the truth straight out of your mind if I want. Spare me the trouble."
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: (( Nope. ))
| + | Atella: "Because I'm funny?" |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "Alright, alright!" Clavis doesn't have to try very hard to appear panicked. The fear is there in truth, after all. She looks down. "Kadis Solomon, sir, rank of Sanctionite."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((yeah, not happening))
| + | ***Atella tries not to look at the knife |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He keeps tight hold of your chin, staring straight into your eyes and he enforces his will against yours to probe straight into your mind.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((besides the black robes, is he wearing anything, have any tattoos, any other identifying marks?))
| + | tylorva: "In your dreams maybe." |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((opposed WP, I assume?))
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: (( nope, nothing visible. ))
| + | Atella: "You could use me as muscle?" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: (( Yup, Standard mind scan this time, so opposed Wp ))
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: composes her thoughts into the Tower of Iron Will, shutting out the invasive foreign thoughts.
| + | tylorva: "I have a whole gang of muscle, that are reliably loyal." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He seems surprised and steps back, staring at you. "Strong," he says approvingly. "Such a waste."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: Clavis doesn't react to the compliment beyond the twitch of a smile. No matter who it is, it is nice to be appreciated. "You'll just use my name in one of your foul rites if I give it to you. I might as well grant myself the Emperor's Mercy instead."
| + | ***Atella thinks |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "I'd be better off."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((did they take Clavis' Psykana Mercy Blade, btw?))
| + | ***Atella sighs |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: (( Yup ))
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: She frowns as she remembers that the vile cultists took away her Psykana Mercy Blade. Beyond the conditioning that screams at her for being without that safety measure she feels strangely naked without it.
| + | ***Atella hesitates |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He shrugs slightly. "Your Emperor no longer cares, if he ever did."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: No dwelling on that, though! Stay strong, keep your focus. Inwardly Clavis begins the litany of Contempt again.
| + | Atella: "Anyone you want fucked?" |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((Protective Invocation again))
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "I have set foot on Holy Terra," Clavis says quietly. "Your heresies can't touch me."
| + | tylorva: He raises an eyebrow again. "That's the best you can offer?" He snorts derisevely. |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "You're a witch. Condemned and feared by all of the Imperium. Why would you care?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "I am *sanctioned*!" Though no louder than her earlier words it comes out with the force of a scream. "Tested and found true by the agents of the Golden Throne. I am no witch, whatever they might call me. We are nothing alike!"
| + | Atella: "Oh hey, now you're hurting my feelings again." |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: Some distant part of Clavis' mind marvels that she can speak to her captor like this, that the fear doesn't paralyze her tongue or her mind.
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Are we not?" He pulls up the sleeve of his robe to show a sanctioning brand on the inside of his left arm. It looks just like yours, just older and more withered. "I too have stood on the so-called Holy Terra." He spits. "I too stood at the base of the Golden Throne. And I saw it for the lie it was."
| + | Atella: "You could just send me back to Vika?" |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: recoils insofar as the the shackles allow it. "Apostate. Traitor." It is almost unthinkable. A latent never found by the Black Ships, a youth with his Psykana training unfinished, a defective breaking under the strain - she can understand those, maybe even forgive them.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: But someone turning to the Archenemy with their eyes open, betraying the Adeptus and all of humanity despite knowing, *knowing* the face of evil. It's unforgivable.
| + | tylorva: "Sure. In pieces. That would send a very useful message, would it not?" |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: And nothing she could ever understand.
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "To you maybe. But I simpley broke through the chains and became free. You're a slave and you don't even know it..." He strokes a cold finger down your cheek.
| + | Atella: "I don't know. Not very useful." |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: shakes her head, denying the notion beyond just the mental realm. "Tainted. Corrupted. Forsaken. That's what *you* are. I never want to understand the logic that lead you down this path, if it even has anything to do with logic."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "Your daemonic idols will consume you body and soul. You say you are free? Hah."
| + | Atella: "Easy to misunderstand too." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: The sorceror stares at his prisoner with a cold expression. "I am more free than you will ever understand," he says coldly, before changing the subject. "Tell me aboiut the Inquisition. About Vika Shaeye..." He spits at the name.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: meets the man's stare with enough anger to make her fearless. She begins to answer, but gives up before speaking the first word. It's clearly useless trying to argue with him.
| + | Atella: "Ambiguous even." |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "What do you want to know?" She asks after a moment's consideration.
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Why did she send you here?" | + | tylorva: "Oh, but my master knows Vika Shaeye. She's hardly the sort of person to take things ambiguously, is she? She sees things in their simplest form." |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "You mean, were we sent after the Wanton Spiral cult?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "No. For that is a simple yes/no answer that tells me nothing. I said "Why did she send you here?"
| + | ***Atella shrugs again |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "We are here to capture the rogue psyker Kirian."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "Do you know of him?"
| + | Atella: "I've only met her briefly." |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "Is he a member of your cult?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "Or did you dispose of him when you took control of the cleaners?"
| + | tylorva: "I' sure that was long enough." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "I see. No, he's not a member. Not exactly." He crosses his arms. "Tell me about Reinhardt."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "Not exactly? I'd have thought you were either in or out." Clavis shakes her head. "Now, Reinhardt, he is in charge of the purges."
| + | Atella: "Well, she did impress me." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "What is he looking for?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "He's looking for something?"
| + | tylorva: "In what way?" |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Something... or someone. Why else would he spend so much time down here? He's an interrogator, he should have better things to do than to crack down on a bunch of dregs."
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "Maybe that's why he's so cranky," Clavis muses, then catches herself. "Umm. I'm not really privy to the Interrogator's plans. But I think he's just cracking down on rogue psykers."
| + | Atella: "She's so... masterful and striking." |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "Apparently the gangs down here hide a lot of them among themselves."
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "I think you're right. He's after this Kirian. But he's not taking them to Vika." | + | tylorva: "You say that like you're in love with here." He does seem to be interested though and has lowered the knife slightly. |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: frowns. "He just kills them then?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: He shrugs. "Wouldn't we both like to know? Vika too I imagine."
| + | ***Atella smiles |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: shudders slightly at the man's casual use of the Inquisitor's name.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: Her frown grows deeper. "What do you think he does?"
| + | Atella: "Love is probably too grand a word. I might have a small crush on her though." |
| | | | |
| − | tylorva: "Perhaps, little inquisitor wannabe... we can make a deal...?"
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "What?" Clavis blurts out in confusion. This does not compute. "What sort of deal could you even imagine I'd accept?"
| + | ***Atella shrugs again |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "I mean ..." She stops herself before pointing out that the logical thing to do would be to kill them all.
| |
| | | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "I mean, what are you saying?"
| + | Atella: "What's a girl to do?" |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: "I mean, you can get close to Reinhardt, where I cannot. you can find out what he is doing. And as long as you swear to return the results to me, you can take whatever action you want. I suspect even Vika will want to know what her pet student is up to. these days."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "But why would you be interested?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: "That is not your concern. If you really need one, consider as simple as this: I want Reinhardt out of my turf and if proving to your mistress that he is no good is the way to do it, then so be it."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((can I try scrutiny to see if he's at least vaguely honest?))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((1 DoS))
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: (( He seems to be sincere.))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: thinks. Nothing good can come of a deal with a damned heretic like this one. His motives are unclear and likely as dark as his soul. Anything he says has to be considered suspect at best.
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: "Of course the alternative is that I sacrifice you to my dark good." He smirks.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: Casting aspersions on a member of the Holy Inquisition itself, what does he think he's doing? Trying to drive a wedge between the Inquisitor and her Interrogator? Anyone working so closely with Vika Shaeye will be above reproach.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "I'm weighing the options," Clavis says with unintentional sarcasm.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: But if she never intended to make a deal? Deceiving the deceivers is an acceptable tactic after all, isn't it?
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: "You don't have long to decide. There is an opening for a sacrifice in around..." He withdraws a chrono on a chain from inside his robes. "About fifteen minutes."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "I can't come down here again. And I can't betray secrets of the Holy Inquisition," Clavis says finally, trying for the tone of someone who has conceded that her life may be worth the deal but is haggling over the price.
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: "Your friend will be returning. She has been chosen. And you do not need to reveal the secrets of the Inquisition." he does give you a very sceptical look though. "Not that I suspect you know any. I simply want to know what Reinhardt's game is."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "Atella?" Clavis is surprised. "What have you done with her?"
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: "I have done nothing to her. She is well and you'll see her again - if you agree to help me." He looks at the chrono again. "Time is running short."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: Clavis hesitates. "... alright," she says finally, as if against better judgement. "But nothing secret, nothing important! Just about Reinhardt's personal game."
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: He pulls some kind of parchment from his robe and unrolls it. "Here is a contract - to be signed in blood. It says your soul will be forfeit to the ruinous powers if you choose to turn your back on our agreement." He lets you read it - it's in fairly straightforward text and makes an agreement between the signatories that all efforts will be made to discover what Reinhardt's plan is...
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: ... and to return that info to Uldain of the Wanton Spiral, in return for which the contractee will be free to go.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((what does Clavis know about that sort of thing? Is it possible to do something like this, does it require a ritual or anything?))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((3 DoS))
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: (( You think it's possible to do a psychic ritual on a contract to make it binding - but it's not often done due to heretical ovetones. ))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: Clavis' goes pale at the sight of the contract, her eyes wide. Signed in blood? Forfeit to the Ruinous Powers? She reads it carefully. Twice. Time to think, she needs time to think ... Finally she nods, having made her decision. "Alright."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: She closes her eyes, obviously trying to get her nerves under control, to still the shivering. And less obviously focusing her mind into that crystalline clarity she'll need. "Give me the pen," she says, opening her eyes again.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((trying to get enough time to quietly prepare an Invocation roll))
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: (( You have time for the invocation... ))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: The moment the sorcerer-priest reaches for whatever implement he needs for her to sign the contract is when she strikes with all her strength.
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: He seems to notice you focusing your mind. "Trying something?" He withdraws a long thin stiletto from his sleeve to draw some blood onto the paper. (( No surprise - he noticed. But you can make an initiative roll against him to get the first shot in. ))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((spending the bonus one-time-only FP we got for this session for an automatic 10, so Initiative 13))
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: (( You beat him by 1. ))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((whew!))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: Rather than tuning her will to be an instrument of precision and grace Clavis forgoes all subtlety for as much raw power as she can draw from the warp. In eerie silence shimmering spears of pure force lash out toward the sorcerer.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((Focus Power of 28 means seven bolts created, three of them hit.))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((damage is 15, 16 and 10))
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: A couple of blasts knock him backwards away from you and he slams into the opposite wall, grunting in pain. "Not bad," he says, looking quite impressed. "Just as well, I have one more bargaining tool up my sleeve before we get to the sacrifcing - although my master would be pleased with one as strong as you..."
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: He gets back to his feet and drops the parchment. "Atella has been chosen."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "What does that even mean?" Clavis yells, even as she gathers her strength for another attack.
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: "It means she will become a favoured servant of my master, unless she returns here to be ritually unchosen."
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((Scrutiny, 1 DoS))
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: (( He seems to be speaking truthfully. ))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "You lie! Filthy traitorous demon-worshipper! I'll never be like you, I'll never sign your blasphemous contract, and nor will any of the others!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: He shrugs. "Perhaps Atella will convice you otherwise. Bring her back here with the information and she'll be fine. Fail to do so and watch her hunted down and destroyed by your own kind. Simple as that." He turns to leave.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: In frustration and fear Clavis rants with increasingly tenuous grasp on sanity. "We will pull down your damned altars! We will scatter your ashes through the black! None of your tricks will work with us, do you hear me, I never once believed a word you said!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "There is only one God and he is the Emperor of Mankind and his wrath is terrible! Pray, pray you pitiful wretch who scorned his saving light. Pray for your soul!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((was that time enough for the next round to come around?))
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: (( In the interests of drama, I'd say no - You got him once and made your point successfully. I'm sure another chance will come to twat him good and proper later. ;) ))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: Clavis' voice rises to a screech. "Yes, flee little man! You were broken from the beginning, a flawed vessel, fit only to be cast unto the stones to shatter! You never had what it takes to serve the Golden Throne, you never had the wit to maintain your viligance, you never had the strength to resist the corruption!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "Curse you, traitor, outcast, blighted! You are not fit to wear that brand, nor were you ever!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: "You were never one of US!"
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: Breathing heavily with the exertion it takes Clavis a minute or two to return to any semblance of calm after the door shuts behind the sorcerer.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: After waiting another minute until the Psykana-mandated emotional safety margin is intact again Clavis slowly and methodically turns her will upon the shackles that bind her, messing with their locks to let her go free.
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: It takes a while, but eventually something clicks and the shackles come loose.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: Relying on the mercy of accursed sorcerers isn't a winning strategy, Clavis has decided. When she attacked him she was ready to die resisting rather than sign over her soul to the ruinous powers, conditions attached or not.
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((Did they strip her of the mesh?))
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: (( Yup. ))
| |
| − | | |
| − | Clavis_Morden: ((MMh, so she's in her undergarments. Not the best tactical situation.))
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: (( I'm going to move things back to the main thread now. So post there when you are ready. ))
| |
| − | | |
| − | tylorva: As soon as you see Atella, you can see straight away that she has a mark on her cheek - a terrible chaos symbol carved into her flesh, blackened and nasty.
| |
