Zink
New Member
Posts: 24 
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Post by Zink on Feb 23, 2023 2:51:42 GMT -5
++Sergeant Caerrick, can I talk to you alone for a moment?++ he put in lastly. He moved to the front of his chimera, away from where others could hear and cut his vox. Waiting for Caerrick he spoke to her in a quiet tone.
Caerrick had taken a languid posting near the Command Chimera - arms crossed over her hotshot as it was slung across her breastplate, simply taking in the hustle and bustle of the convoy unloading and the troops beginning to properly 'mingle' with the civvies. It would almost seem criminally lax for her straight-laced character, but Caerrick's head was still on a swivel, keeping Hoyt in particular under close eye as he socialized with one of the first responders. The click of the vox filtering into her ear did draw a slight inclination of the head, and a visible exhale as she let what little relaxation in her just drain away.
Break time's over.
Clenching her jaw to open up the vox-bead, she gave him two clicks affirmative before turning to face him - following the Lieutenant to the front of the chimera and silencing her vox as she approached. Giving out a field-ready sign of the Aquilla, she stood at ease, absorbing the following orders.
“Sergeant, I have a special task for you, and a team you make up. I’m sure you’ve guessed by now we’re not just here to look pretty and hand out ration bars to people. Orders are that this little quarry is a possible blackmarket for Xenos weaponry, possibly more. Now that's only a rumor, but a rumor command would wager a good few Cadians on. I trust you know what to look for, and I trust a Kasrkin more to get the job done than others.” He paused, looking back over the transports, a grimace briefly flashing on his face. “Pick out a few from Epsilon, and the other squads, and have them do sweeps through the market. If they spot something, mark it and try to retrieve it without confiscating it at first, but by no means are we to leave any Xenos tech behind that we find. If things get too hot…” He paused at this, remembering the orders he had, “...vox to me and pull everyone out. I'll be trying to talk to the Leader of this little squatters kingdom, see if we can't work things out diplomatically. Understood, Sergeant?”
She nodded her head as Krast spoke, the Kasrkin having already surmised that Epsilon's element of this patrol was for something a little more just civilian pacification. Xenotech smuggling was a bit more to their style, but it was certainly a rare experience - not something she'd encountered often in her tour of duty, given the nature of the assignments she'd suffered. Giving a curt "Understood." to his final inquiry, she flashed the Aquilla once more before turning on her heel - fingers coming back to rest on the handguard and trigger of her lasgun as she fell back into the rhythm of operation.
++"Hoyt, you're on duty in ten, say goodbye to the civvie."++ Her first call was obvious, Hoyt's position as her second made him an almost mandatory inclusion - that and the presence of the Lance Corporal was quite reassuring in its own way. Just crass and blunt enough to make her seem absolutely peachy in comparison - which made for a good impromptu dynamic for field... coercions. The next pick was a bit more difficult - beyond the whiteshields and regular guardsman taking up the majority, there were a few 'specialists' and noteworthy folk to recruit, but this mission demanded a level of subtlety that such an eclectic spread of personnel would struggle to muster together...
...Unless applied strategically.
Her first target was thus one of the more down-to-earth members of the crew, one that was at least within walking distance. Striding up to Private Hawke's vigil over the clearing, she gave her a quick tap on the shoulder with the side of her arm, ignorant of her attempts to figure out just who that figure was mixed in with the patrol. "Hawke. Specialist duty, down to ground - you're being volunteered."
Caerrick almost sounded peppy, volunteering Hawke for the task at hand - which in truth she was. It almost felt nostalgic in its own way, dragging some poor private along to an assignment they never asked for, a mixture of hazing and catharsis for someone who'd been through the suck before. Though she vaguely remembered Hawke from the briefing, so it was more friendly ribbing than anything truly spiteful - Cadian camaraderie and all.
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Post by alphazoid on Feb 25, 2023 19:08:55 GMT -5
Lourn had remained silent for the initial conversation, as well as the drive to the... whatever it could be called. Hard to call it anything more than a lean-to, he thought. He let Krast give his orders before stepping to the side of him.
"Since you've got the lead on this, where do you want me? With you or finding my own way?"
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Post by Fate's End on Feb 25, 2023 22:15:56 GMT -5
No matter how handsome Hoyt might have been, there was nothing left of it now. Just ruin. A heretic chainsword had removed whatever chance Hoyt might have had of ever doing anything but a twisted sneer. The flesh of his cheek was a valley of white, poorly healed flesh. Metal teeth, replacements of the ones that had been shattered by the chainblade could be seen through the immense cleft in his cheek. The scar twisted his features into a permanent half-grin. Only his eyes betrayed some semblance of his age. Rich violet, flecked with black. The half of his face that wasn't a zig-zag of scar-tissue was austere and refined. It did nothing but emphasize the devastation that had been done to it.
"Hoyt." He said to Maddie when he stopped in front of her. "Now you have a name and most of a face to put to the threats." The Kasrkin gave a dry laugh. Slowly, he put out a hand wherein a box stamped with munitorum print was held. The bold font read 'RATION PACK. KASRKIN-ISSUE ONLY. 1 WEEK.'. "I get it." Hoyt said, his eyes flashing back to the camp below. "I really do. Now take this-" He shook the box in his hand. "- and eat before the next light breeze carries you off. Give away the rest as needs given. If I find you bartering with this, I'll stop being pleasant."
Then, he shrugged. "Hurry up, before the convoy starts talking. I've a reputation to keep."
Sometimes a moment of kindness transcends time, place, pain and heartache. For the briefest of seconds, an exhausted camp nurse shares such a moment with a fearsome Kasrkin. Her hand reaches out gingerly, tentatively and rests on the box as though half-expecting it to explode. But it doesn't. Maddie retrieves the box, eyes darting around Hoyt's face, looking for the joke, the other foot, whatever trick she obviously half-believes him to be playing. If he was expecting horror at the sight of his face, he would be sorely disappointed. Suspicion and heartfelt thanks war for control of the young woman's features. And the thanks wins out. She shivers in the cold, but cradles the box to her bundled up form as though the most precious of gifts. "-Thank you. This will help." Krast watched as the column of his men made their way down towards the shanty town. It wasn’t exactly the worst settlement he’d ever seen, some pits in the underhives he’d fought to clear had made this place look like the Golden Palace, but it was still a den of refugees. He did note there was some order to how things were placed, and most of the structures were secure enough. Eye’s darted across it all, taking in tactical information; could a sniper roost there? Lines of fire for ambushes? Fastest way to pull the cargo trucks out if things escalated. He was in his own head so much he barely heard what Maddie had said, turning and looking at her as Pavel finished. He’d heard about how the Janissaries ran things, and he wasn’t the biggest fan. He gave Maddie a quick flash of his teeth, not quite a smile but close, and nodded. “Oh don’t you worry, I know how to make a good impression, and so do my men.” He said, and looked over to the civilians. He heard Hoyt talking to Maddie, but he put that to the back of his mind. As long as no one pulled a gun this time it should all go smoothly. Time to give some orders. He started first with Bellicosa, the Leman Russ was sure to cause a start among everyone. His next orders went to the transports and some of the infantry. Set up near the market, open up an aid station and evaluate the people here. Give them what they need but make sure everyone gets something. Try and take names and a head count, but don’t push if they won’t give that out, the guard wasn’t here to harass these people more. If they ever sent out another detachment here having a headcount might mean they could bring enough. Other than that, keep their eyes up, don’t let anything be stolen, and if they want they can mingle with the crowds in pairs to try and make a good show of things. Now that they were in the camp, the head of security seemed---was it less hostile? Or just more sure of himself with more of his own men spread throughout the area. Whatever it was, he returned something like a matching grin to Krast's, Maddie herself at a loss of words from Hoyt's gesture of kindness. As for the majority of the guard force, they set about the orders given. The cargo trucks were rolled around, a few folding tables yanked down from their racks in the trucks and an aid station quickly came into being. It was obvious the people of this market didn't want to give names, but a headcount was easy enough to start as they tentatively approached, eyes full of suspicion and desperation. Lourn had remained silent for the initial conversation, as well as the drive to the... whatever it could be called. Hard to call it anything more than a lean-to, he thought. He let Krast give his orders before stepping to the side of him. "Since you've got the lead on this, where do you want me? With you or finding my own way?" Even as he asked the question, Lourn could hear a small crackle from behind him. The crackle of a powerful vox unit that was receiving interference from at least one source, maybe more. Trooper Savin Deveraux was in trouble. What had started as any other trip to the the black market had quickly taken a turn when the guard showed up. This was definitely not the place to be found, out of uniform and carrying several gallon jugs of contraband homemade amasec. Okay, how to play this? Thinking quickly, the ratling buttons up her chameleoline coat to the throat, hiding her civilian outfit beneath, and puts on her red field cap. She bundles some sticks about the right length to be a longlas in cloth and slings it over her shoulder. Thusly disguised as herself, she sidles into formation with one of the patrols sweeping the market, adopting her best ‘I’ve been here the whole time’ demeanor. This is going great. As the aid station is erected and the guard began to slowly mingle with the crowds and walk amongst the stalls, combining tension with brittle, forced smile . . . Does anyone notice the extra Ratling attaching herself to the group? It would appear . . . not. For the moment, it seems Savin Deveraux has made good her clandestine integration into the guard force. "Not a bad day's work." Bruce thought to himself as he flicked his fingers over the recently brought and 'acquired' supplies and wealth they had gained through the day's activities. It had started that morning when a man with no name with a horse with no name asked them for a service. Deliver a few crates to the refuge in the hill country, no questions asked (other than for haggling a good price). Once that job was done, the extra cash was put towards buying and trading what they could to make even more profit. And profit, they had indeed made. His musings were interrupted in the usual form of Jed appearing around the side of the imperial Centaur tank which they worked and lived out of. "Boss!" Jed hissed, apparently out of breath, "The fuzz are here!". Bruce looked over the side and gave a disgruntled seer towards his compatriot. "What are you on about now Jed?! This is a black market! There is no fuzz for twenty clicks from here!". "But they are Willie. They even got a tank!" Jed pleaded. Bruce was about to turn away to ignore the distraction when he froze. "TANK!?!" In one fluid motion, Bruce lept out of the open top tank and rushed to the corner of the side ally they had parked down. "Why didn't you tell me they were guards?!" he demanded. Not even waiting for a reply, he scuttled up the side of the Centaur and down to the driver's compartment where Tane was asleep. "Tane! Tane wake up! We got trouble. Start the tank and start it quietly!" Bruce yammered as he shook the driver awake. Tane simply gave him back a look in reply. "Alright! I know it'll make some noise. Just don't rev the engine or anything!" Bruce grumbled back in an exasperated tone. "Look. We need to get out and get out quickly! As soon as they are off the main ramp, will mine our own business out of here and gun it for the hills!". AAAAAAAAAAAAway down there in the land of traitors, Tau, Orks, ‘Nids, and Emperor-Haters, Right away! Come away! Right away! Come away!
All trait’rous plots to be disloyal, The Emperor’s Fist shall surely foil! Right away! Come away! Right away! Come away! Varvaxian tankers, it would seem, have rather a different idea on what the words uplifting and not too loud mean. The Emperor’s Fist is rolling! Ooo-ray! Ooo-ray! Each blueskin boy must understand that ‘e must mind the Emperor’s Hand! Ooo-ray! Ooo-ray! We all do praise the Emperor! Ooo-ray! Ooo-ray! We all do praise the Emperor! Blaring loud-hailers and a quarry's acoustics are a match made in someone's idea of hell. If it was intended to be uplifting, Bellicosa was primarily successful in lifting hands to ears, hands to the air in balled fists, and voices to shouting as almost all sound was for a moment drowned out by the all-encompassing sound of The Emperor's Fist. As the sound blared out, however. Bruce would notice a woman approaching him. In her late fifties, eyes like grey steel and a face to match. He would know her as Alvira, the self-proclaimed Mistress of the Market and leader of this place. She was stalking towards him with purposeful steps, ignoring the blaring sounds of song. Behind her were several men and women carrying small crates. "Bruce." Alvira hissed almost directly into his ear, leaning in close so as to be heard. "Do a woman a favor. I'll pay you five hundred thrones to take these boxes with you when you leave. Dump them or sell them, I don't care. They just can't be here." She stared at the younger man with hard, dangerous, and perhaps most jarringly, desperate eyes. Guardsmen running, refugees and civies trading goods and friendly greetings. Having a good time. “This krakking sucks,” grumbles Cassim as he watches the camp from a little ways off through the scope of his longlas, “Oh sure the tank is allowed in, but not El Dorado?” Was he being punished? Probably not. One, he’s a scout, and two he’s a sniper. His job is to either explore ahead or cover from the rear. And unfortunately sitting in a bright gold trimmed sentinel in the middle of a refugee camp, swinginging a longlas around is probably not the brightest idea. And yeah, he may or may not have blindly jumped into a dangerous situation and had the potential of causing it to blow up worse so it makes tactical sense to keep him out of the trouble for the time being. Didn’t make it suck any less. The machine spirit of El Dorado seemed to agree as the sentinel almost seemed like it was about to take a step in the direction of the camp, on its own. Of course it didn’t. El Dorado didn’t move unless Cassim made it move. But sometimes it just felt like the machine would react or make choices without his input. “Easy, patience,” Cassim whispers to the walker, “We’ll have our time in the limelight soon enough.” He didn’t believe it either. The “find black market” thing is pretty much wrapped up. Now it’s just chilling till the order to go home… Out of sheer boredom Cassim scans the market through his scope again. [TheRedAuthar Request: [4df + 1] Roll: [+, -, -, -] Result: -1 Careful Roll to skim the town] scope makes out a few details, tables being set up. Someone stomping away from a table in a huff, a handsome and darkly clad man who seemed markedly less panicked than a good portion of the populace. But nothing else out of the ordinary. Aside from a glint of metal above him. A gust of wind had caught the camo netting covering the large object, or perhaps structure? overhanging the quarry. And for just a moment, it seemed that whatever it was had a metallic sheen to it. But then the camo netting slapped back into place, the breeze abated, and it resumed once more a state of mystery. "Piss off." Yul flicked away the remaining stub of his lho-stick to the side as he drew another out of a packet to his lips without looking at Clacky. He lit the new one with a long drag, deep blue eyes never leaving the flicker of fire shielded by his fingers. "I don't have coin for you," He added, dismissing the fortune-reader as he tucks the silver lighter into an inner pocket of his coat. Perhaps sticking around and getting questioned by the Guard wasn't a great idea, either, he observed as the soldiers were dispersed among the other civilians. Yul unfolded himself from the tiny stool and tossed a few coins onto the table to cover the sad excuse for a meal, and fixed his hat into place as he gave his gear a once over. The Psyker shifts in their seat to regard the Guard assembly once more, clear wariness on their face as they squint over the group. "Don't read anyone spoiling for real trouble just now, but there's definitely some terribly bored folk in the mix. Could amount to the same thing, given incentive." For the moment the former Scion of Altanbaatar and Clacky were given a brief space of calm, the Guard hadn't made it this far into the camp yet, and the majority of the camp denizens were deciding if they needed to leave or not. However, a careful ear or a probing mind could perhaps find a strange conversation happening just inside the canteen tent. chimera rides. although through repetition one could become accustomed to them, they were not exactly what you'd call a pleasant experience, that said Hawke was thankful that this time it was one of the more brief rides. craning her head to one side and then the other once she felt that satisfying 'pop' from between the joints, the Cadian surveyed the sorry scene before her without much to say as she waited for her next set of orders. her lack of surprise at the conditions matched only by her indifference towards all the glares thrown the guards way. looking at one of the squad patrols Hawke felt something was amiss when she spotted a short figure trying to merge in amongst them, i don't recall any ratlings being in any of the mustered squads... her first thought was that it was one of refugees or rebels but there was something familiar about that cap the figure was wearing but she couldn't quite put her finger on what it was.
[blinddeadmcjones Request: [4df] Roll: [+, -, -, -] Result: -2][careful roll to try and recognise savin]
Her first target was thus one of the more down-to-earth members of the crew, one that was at least within walking distance. Striding up to Private Hawke's vigil over the clearing, she gave her a quick tap on the shoulder with the side of her arm, ignorant of her attempts to figure out just who that figure was mixed in with the patrol. " Hawke. Specialist duty, down to ground - you're being volunteered." Caerrick almost sounded peppy, volunteering Hawke for the task at hand - which in truth she was. It almost felt nostalgic in its own way, dragging some poor private along to an assignment they never asked for, a mixture of hazing and catharsis for someone who'd been through the suck before. Though she vaguely remembered Hawke from the briefing, so it was more friendly ribbing than anything truly spiteful - Cadian camaraderie and all. For Caerrick and Hawke, things were also fairly calm at the moment as they prepared to head out on Krast's orders, putting together a team takes very little time, especially for a Kasrkin Sergeant. As soon as her force is assembled, she has a plethora of choices on where to focus her efforts. Towards the Canteen is a small scattering of activity, deeper into the market proper, up against one of the quarry walls several small and battered Cargo-6's are being hurriedly loaded with cargo, the drivers seeming eager to leave momentarily. ((OOC Rolls: Generic guard patrols rolled a wonderful 0 to notice Savin and failed to do so. Savin, can you please make a sneaky roll to try and stay unobtrusive, your target to meet or exceed is a 1. If you roll a number below that, Hawke will be able to recognize you. Caerrick, Hoyt, and Hawke, if you make careful or clever rolls you may ascertain extra details about specific areas of interest in the Black Market Rolls above 0 will result in varying information. Lourn, your vox unit is acting strange, a roll of your choice if you'd like to diagnose it. Until this is fixed, you cannot contact the orbiting ship. Krast, though you were pointed in the rough direction, A careful roll of 1 or higher will give you a clear location of where the camp leader is if you'd like to seek her out. Yul and Clacky, a quiet conversation is happening close by, but will require rolls of 2 or higher to ascertain the details. Your choice of aspect if you would like pursue this lead. Cassim, something is happening in the mountainous area surrounding the quarry, aspect roll of your choice to learn more. Rolls above 1 will result in at least some details, higher rolls will obtain more details. Bellicosa, your loudspeakers are causing consternation amongst the locals, but that is only a problem in as much as you care about it. Bruce, the camp leader is asking you to smuggle something out. No rolls required unless you'd like to make one. The choice is yours, as are the consequences. If any prefer, you can make the rolls and let me know, and I can inform you of things OOC with which to influence your post. Alternatively you can post as normal and include your roll result, and I can fill in what you see via post )) |
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Post by hobbsy on Feb 25, 2023 23:37:05 GMT -5
The blaring music, although a curse for some, was a blessing to the Nomad three. Although temped to question what the lunatics were playing at, Bruce isn't one to look a gift tank in the cannon. With some encouraging swearing, Bruce got Tane to get their own tank started. The sound of the Centaur now masked, Bruce was about to get them on their way when a crowd, lead by none other than the Mistress of the flaming market herself, approached them. Knowing this would be important, Bruce got Tane to hold tight and hoped out to see what she wanted. "Do a woman a favor. I'll pay you five hundred thrones to take these boxes with you when you leave. Dump them or sell them, I don't care. They just can't be here." She stared at the younger man with hard, dangerous, and perhaps most jarringly, desperate eyes. Bruce's beady eyes darted as he considered his options. The day's harvest had been plenty, but how could they miss an opportunity like this! Though on the other hand... Bruce stroked the stubble under his chin before facing the Mistress to reply. "It's a bit of a tight spot madam. If my gut is right, and it usually is, this stuff is most likely enough to get those trigger happy guards to have us all shoot. Now we have a good customer to owner relationship with you, so I'll tell you what up front. Sweeten the deal and will do the job." He slapped the side of the tank while he talked as to emphasis his point and as he finished his proposal, the tank gave a slight rev as if on que. Bruce gave her a sympathetic look. "Times ticking madam, can't wait too long." ((Implementing stunt Man with the plan for +2 clever as Bruce tries to scheme to get an even better deal! Roll= Hobbsy Request: `[4df+3]` Roll: `[ , , , -]` Result: `2`.)) |
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quoth
Junior Member
Posts: 74
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Post by quoth on Feb 26, 2023 8:45:17 GMT -5
Savin greets puzzled looks from her new squad with a winning smile. In her eagerness to seem like she is supposed to be here, she inadvertently takes control of the squad, guiding them through the market, coincidentally bypassing stalls of her business partners and landing scrutiny on rivals. This does, however, make her the opposite of inconspicuous.
((Sneaky roll of -1 to blend in))
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Post by silverruby on Feb 26, 2023 13:43:05 GMT -5
"What makes you think I want my fortunes read?" Yul responded with a small amount of guarded terseness, if it was free, it was certainly some sort of weird scam. For that matter, he didn't care for some mystical destiny to be told to him that he had to meditate on somehow. Maybe once upon a time, a younger, more naïve Yul would have enjoyed the spectacle and wonder. Currently, the Emperor was testing him, and he would bear this momentary hardship for whatever trial he was being put through. He was already fortunate enough to be alive in the midst of all the controversy among the nobility of Plenty, and his fall from grace for that matter.
Curiosity won over caution for a brief moment as the bounty hunter ignored the witch standing nearby, and watched the Guard mingle and set up tables. It was a small risk, but perhaps whoever was at the helm of this military operation would be more amenable to turning a blind eye if Yul offered some opportunistic cooperation; His equipment was not exactly procured in the most legitimate ways, either, and he didn't believe that the Guard was here just to provide humanitarian aid or good will. This shanty-town was known for its hidden market, and that was hardly a secret among locals. If it came down to him or someone else getting thrown under the Chimera, Yul was certainly not so chivalrous anymore that he'd take the fall for someone, even if he did business with them; Gone were the days where he could bank on honor and loyalty, survival was king.
Now the search for a fall-guy was on. A petty part of Yul had put the fortune teller at the top of the list of potential victims just for bothering him, but he was sure he would have nothing on Clacky to prove that they were involved in the market at all. The Guard couldn't be here hunting for one psyker, so he mentally crossed the other off his list. But not without another look-over of what the stranger was wearing. Clacky was certainly furnished well by money, the kind of thrones only established dynasties commanded; Nobility didn't give their witches leashes that were too long, usually, and it was unusual for the other to be here on their own. Too bad, if there had been a fetch bounty for their head, he might have been a little more amenable to the other's approach just to snatch them up.
A decent back up if he had to come up with some reason to be here; But in truth, he had been in town just to replenish his ammo supply and pick up new listings...
Yul perked his ears as a nearby conversation drifted over, tilting his head slightly to listen. Something about it was hard to ignore. Maybe it would give him a convenient lead.
[Stunt: Bounty Hunter's Gambit to actively try to search for a scapegoat and overhear the conversation. (+2 to Clever Roll) Silver Ruby Request: [4df+1+2] Roll: [+, , , -] Result: 3]
[Potentially could also add my Aspect: Got off my high-horse, No job is too dirty if applicable]
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Post by Draeci on Feb 26, 2023 16:23:11 GMT -5
"What makes you think I want my fortunes read?" Yul responded with a small amount of guarded terseness, if it was free, it was certainly some sort of weird scam. The psyker shrugs mildly, "Those forced to make their own fortune out here can always use a bit of forewarning." they pick up a cup before giving a very small smile, "It makes a pleasant change to offer it to people who may actually require such things, over being forced to perform magic tricks like a trained dog." They look away to the approaching commotion once more, and sip their drink to avoid running their mouth. The bitter recaff cleans the taste of the conversation, but is only barely more pleasant. Watching the Imperial Guard meander, Clacky spots a smaller figure successfully passing off what is... most definitely not a weapon... having slipped into their ranks, and wonders quite how fine the Emperor's Finest actually are. An amused smirk passes the psyker's lips, hidden by their mug. As Yul gives the distracted Clacky a once over, the bounty hunter would be able to steal a decent look at their attire. Under the open and still-impressive leather coat, they wear a velvet tabard and trousers and wide sash, littered with brass imperial symbols on fine looped chains. These softer clothes show many more signs of wear than the outer coat, and are clearly more suited for a noble courtyard than surviving nights on the streets. A small glass and metal lantern hangs from the sash by their hip. However where one would expect to look for a house crest, someone has (to the best of their ability), unpicked the stitching and removed it from the tabard. A darker oval of less-faded fabric marks its absence.
It's only at the psyker's hands that any sign of their provenance becomes evident. As one hand rests on their tarot deck, and the other on their mug, their paired tattoos tell a two-part story. One symbol unfamiliar to many: College Telepathica; and one all-too familiar to Yul: House Helvetta. A House not known for allowing their own property to simply wander away without good reason or significant repayment.
Compared to the hastily-forged and rather blunt metal collars of Imperial battle psykers, Clacky's own metal neckwear is much more bespoke, embossed and engraved across the surface with ornate symbols. It is nevertheless still a collar much like one fashioned for any creature, it signifies ownership, albeit to a greater cause.
A welt of unskilled welding on the frame, with the glint of a recently-snapped metal ring suggests that before the psyker took to the streets, House Helvetta may well have taken this idea somewhat literally.
Notably, perhaps, Clacky appears unarmed, with no staff to be seen.
Lowering their cup, the psyker turns their head, similarly curious as the conversation from within the tent becomes more audible over the thinning crowd.
(Clacky achieved a 2 to listen in without psykana, invoking no Aspects or Stunts. As a regular psyker, they can ambiently see through the thin material, roughly how many people are in the conversation, regardless of volume)
(Benny with a D Request: `[1df+3]` Roll: `[-]` Result: `2`)
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cyg
Junior Member
Posts: 58
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Post by cyg on Feb 27, 2023 20:17:07 GMT -5
Karst watched as Caerrick went, feeling sorry for the people she volunteered for duty, and took a deep breath. He had a lot of work to do, and he was about to address Lourn when the vox started crackling. Krast looked and raised an eyebrow.
“Sounds like you have a report to make. You stay with the transports if you like, or go into the market. Just watch your back and stay near the vox, I need you ready to make contact if we need.” He said, then made his own way towards the market. Now sure, he knew it wasn’t the greatest move for an officer to make, and he also knew everyone would be eying the guard, but he wanted to cut loose a bit himself. He took a deep breath, and listened to the sounds of the market. Haggler yelling with merchants, dice games and card games cheering or booing, and the hundred other sensations that came from an illegal market. It was like a drag of lho to him.
Krast did take the precaution of hiding his officer strips, a quick palming of them and he was just another Guard on patrol. Well one with a power sword and hand flamer, plus Kasrkin armor, but still just a grunt. He went around, mingling and quietly chatting, keeping an eye out to figure where this Boss was.
((Rolled 0 Careful to locate the boss))
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Post by theredauthar on Feb 27, 2023 20:58:33 GMT -5
Cassim pauses for a moment, unsure if what he saw was real or not. And even if he did, see something, it could have been anything. Salvage being hidden till it’s ready to sell. Junk just sitting there.
Or, he licks his lips, it’s xenos technology, or perhaps worse, heretical.
He hesitates just a moment. While he doesn’t want to cause a panic or accidentally stomp the troops over someone’s scrap heap, it is better safe than sorry. He thumbs the vox to the command vehicle.
++El-Tee, you read? We got a lead on what that…thing is above your head? Mayhaps I’m paranoid but something about it is rubbing me the wrong way. If you’d like I can see if I can get a look from the another angle…++
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Post by blinddeadmcjones on Mar 2, 2023 23:32:26 GMT -5
waitaminute, Hawke realised as something dawned on her as Savin walked past, the cloak, the hat, the hair, it all suddenly clicked together. well i'll be damned, of all the places in the Imperium and she ends up here.
Her first target was thus one of the more down-to-earth members of the crew, one that was at least within walking distance. Striding up to Private Hawke's vigil over the clearing, she gave her a quick tap on the shoulder with the side of her arm, ignorant of her attempts to figure out just who that figure was mixed in with the patrol. "Hawke. Specialist duty, down to ground - you're being volunteered."
Caerrick almost sounded peppy, volunteering Hawke for the task at hand - which in truth she was. It almost felt nostalgic in its own way, dragging some poor private along to an assignment they never asked for, a mixture of hazing and catharsis for someone who'd been through the suck before. Though she vaguely remembered Hawke from the briefing, so it was more friendly ribbing than anything truly spiteful - Cadian camaraderie and all.
before Hawke could think on this discovery further she felt the familiar tap on her shoulder that usually precedes an order being given, her initial thought was well shit until she heard what Caerrick said, briefly thinking back to the briefing she recalled that the mission involved looking for a market, a black market, looking for xenos weaponry. upon which her mood suddenly improved as she considered the factors and the opportunity in play here, and a smile started creeping across her face in the process. sure they were here specifically for guns and weapons made by heretical xenos but that made for some juicy leverage as she thought of what other choice stuff she could possibly get hold of on the side, afterall what would some people give to have the guard look the other way regarding some of their other wares, and what better help would one find to assist in this venture than a kindred soul looking not to be caught in the wrong place at the wrong time? "can do~ Sargeant" Hawke replied with possibly a tiny bit too much mirth and enthusiasm in her voice as she turned around her head to face the Kasrkin before lowering her voice a bit "so what's the play here, we doin' a spot of fishing to see what bites?"
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Zink
New Member
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Post by Zink on Mar 6, 2023 22:51:12 GMT -5
"can do~ Sargeant" Hawke replied with possibly a tiny bit too much mirth and enthusiasm in her voice as she turned around her head to face the Kasrkin before lowering her voice a bit "so what's the play here, we doin' a spot of fishing to see what bites?"
"We're looking for contraband, as you've likely guessed, and we need to move carefully - they're likely going to jump ship like rats the moment they know we're onto them. Your record states some savviness in this regard, a proclivity that I'm more than willing to encourage if it gets the job done." The Sergeant turned her gaze back on Hawke. "Experience suggests hemming their egress and starting from there - the main gate or their motor pool would do it, then inwards sweep - but if you've got a better idea, lead on."
"Just be careful though-" Caerrick paused for a moment, going silent as a group of civilians came within earshot, resuming just as quickly once they left "- It sounds like Command has the Lieutenant in a bind. We've been playing it pacifist far too much, and we've got orders to evac intact if things get dicey." Stopping in her tracks, she turned around and leaned in, speaking to Hawke in a lower, warning tone. "I don't know if its politicking at play here, or if this place is a powderkeg just waiting to blow, but I'm not taking any chances. If you get into a fight, defend yourself, then pull back to the Chimeras. I'll be shadowing you and conducting my own sweep."
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Post by blinddeadmcjones on Mar 7, 2023 2:35:26 GMT -5
"can do~ Sargeant" Hawke replied with possibly a tiny bit too much mirth and enthusiasm in her voice as she turned around her head to face the Kasrkin before lowering her voice a bit "so what's the play here, we doin' a spot of fishing to see what bites?"
"We're looking for contraband, as you've likely guessed, and we need to move carefully - they're likely going to jump ship like rats the moment they know we're onto them. Your record states some savviness in this regard, a proclivity that I'm more than willing to encourage if it gets the job done." The Sergeant turned her gaze back on Hawke. "Experience suggests hemming their egress and starting from there - the main gate or their motor pool would do it, then inwards sweep - but if you've got a better idea, lead on."
"Just be careful though-" Caerrick paused for a moment, going silent as a group of civilians came within earshot, resuming just as quickly once they left "- It sounds like Command has the Lieutenant in a bind. We've been playing it pacifist far too much, and we've got orders to evac intact if things get dicey." Stopping in her tracks, she turned around and leaned in, speaking to Hawke in a lower, warning tone. "I don't know if its politicking at play here, or if this place is a powderkeg just waiting to blow, but I'm not taking any chances. If you get into a fight, defend yourself, then pull back to the Chimeras. I'll be shadowing you and conducting my own sweep."
"so net fishing then..." keeping pace with Caerrick, Hawke walked with a semi casual air about her, slightly nodding to show she acknowledged what the Sargeant was saying while keeping a sly eye and ear open to everything going on around her without turning her head, she may have looked like any other bored guardsman doing reluctant picket duty but she caught a detail here and there that would've been missed by anyone that was less experienced. as the old adage goes, 'you can't hustle a hustler'. The fact that she now knows she has an acknowledged reputation that precedes her left the cadian in two minds though she didn't show it, on one hand it was nice to know when ones talents are appreciated, on the other she was concerned if that meant she had to up her game in terms of being discrete, but that was a conundrum for another time. "hemming would be straightforward and easy but also a bit dicey, only one way in and its also the only way out, we all know what cornered animals are like" she said quietly, taking a short drag on the remaining half stub her lho "also, whatever element of surprise we have on our side is fading fast, already a handful are onto us and are getting ready to bail." as Caerrick looked around Hawke took a look at the remaining stub, weighing up whether to toss it now or get one last drag out of it "but, i have noticed some things that might help narrow the search, something happenin' in the mess tent, not sure what but heard raised voices. Deeper in the market that cluster of guards are looking very cagey compared to the others 'round here. Also there's something underneath the camo net overhanging the quarry, can't tell what it is beyond its metal and singed but they definitely don't want us seeing it." noticing the civvies getting within hearing distance Hawke likewise paused, getting one final drag out before dropping the spent stub and casually stamping it out to snuff any embers "got it. stay low and if it blows delta to the chimeras, but don't pull any punches if they throw hands, by the way i noticed someone who's discretion we can rely on to help expedite this quietly, we might also be able to lean on the guys loading that centaur, not sure if they're involved with the guns but they definitely hustling, might be keen on scratching our back in return for us scratching theirs, y'know turn a blind eye and all that, your call." |
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Post by Fate's End on Mar 8, 2023 1:02:29 GMT -5
The Centaur
Alvira's eyes narrow as she stares Bruce down. But as he said, time was ticking. Behind her, subordinates cradle the boxes furtively, trying very hard to look as though they're not concerned. Most of them fail. The tension grows for two, maybe three seconds. Alvira spits, "Damn you." She hisses, reaching into her coat and withdrawing several credit chits. "A thousand thrones. Bruce. The Astra boys find this stuff here, they shoot us all. But sure, make some extra money. Just get this stuff out of here!"
The Mess Tent
A conversation that Yul and Clacky were now privy too, obviously having started moments before. Even without psykana, stress seems to bleed from beyond the threadbare tent flap that serves as entrance to the structure that providedYul with his less-than-stellar food.
A gruff masculine tone, "Put it back, girl. Can't you see there's trouble? Put the box back where you found it!"
A youthful feminine tone, quaking with terror. "I can't. It fell from the ship. And it's blinking. It's blinking a lot!"
There's a growl and a man pokes his head out of flap, scanning past Yul and Clacky, eyes locked on the Imperial guard further away. "I didn't ask to babysit the nurse's brat." The man snarls softly. "If the guard find you with that thing, they'll shoot you dead. It's xenos tech. Take it out back and smash it with a hammer, quick now." He thinks he's being quite, in all probability. Not quiet enough for those nearest the tent. Just behind him, a dark-skinned youth, maybe ten years old, sticks her scrawny neck out of the tent under the man, cradling something in a sack close to her chest. "But it's bliiiinking." She hisses in concern, eyes full of fear. "None of the other boxes they took out of the ship were blinking. Is blinking bad?" To that, the man has no seeming answer.
Further away, Hawke isn't able to make out the exact words, but her eyesight would provide the details of the man and child poking their heads out of the tent.
The Market
Savin earns herself glares and curses as she artfully guides the patrol she commandeered. Glares from the competition as they scramble to make their stalls look as unassuming as possible. But also there are nods of appreciation as stall owners on Savin's good side are given precious seconds to clear their tables of anything that might resemble high-value contraband.
Krast, perhaps surprisingly, is able to blend quite well. For all the fear permeating the market it is after all, still a market. For those here it is how they make money or valuable trades to survive another day. By necessity, some of them converse with him in soft tones. Greeting him politely, trading comments about the weather and trying to stay on the heavily armed man's list of people not to shoot. Unfortunately, though he'd been told roughly where the camp leader was, the obvious tent where she should be was conspicuously empty with only shrugs and mumbled words of "Oh, she's probably walking around." Given to any query as to her whereabouts.
For Caerrick's group, the information provided by Hawke is invaluable, giving them points of interest to investigate, and potential spots to avoid. Closer to the center of the camp, the camp protectors that Hawke pointed out start to move with more purpose as Pavel jogs over to them. Words are exchanged, concerned glances made, and then the older man starts pointing fingers, hissing sharp orders. It seems they're trying to find someone.
The Convoy
The Vox unit still crackles and squawks, the interference seeming to invade the machine and interrupt any chance of a clear line of communication to the orbiting vessel. But at least for the most part the aid station is progressing just as ordered, supplies are being slowly handed out to the needy and desperate.
Quarry Edge
As Cassim contemplates investigating the strange structure above the quarry, he receives a short range vox from Domination, the second Leman Russ assigned to the convoy, currently positioned at the very top of the quarry access ramp. "El Dorado. Something's playing merry hell with our Vox. But my sponson gunner swears she saw something moving in the trees. I don't see anything but trees and snow, are you getting anything? Can you reach the Lieutenant? I swear my vox is getting worse every day and I can't raise him." As the grizzled tank commander's voice reaches across the vox to El Dorado, a crackle starts to invade even this short-range transmission. Is that concern in the voice of Domination's commander?
((For most of the group, no specific rolls are require at this time. You are of course free to attempt any actions you see fit. For Cassim, however. If you manage to beat a 3 in your choice of attribute to check the surrounding area at Domination's request, you are likely to spot something. Or some"things". ))
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Post by hobbsy on Mar 8, 2023 5:54:12 GMT -5
'With pleasure ma'am.' Willie Gee though to himself. The though was only hinted to by a cheeky smile which lasted but a moment as he collected the credit chits. "Alright you lot! Let's get this trash loaded. Come along now, move it! Move it!" he announced to the lady's retinue as he spun on his heel and made his way to the rear of the tank. "Stuff it all under everything else back here. Don't worry about being careful, just make sure your boxes are well covered and don't touch anything you shouldn't! Tane! Watch this lot and be ready to get us the terra out of here."
Bruce, at this time, could have been mistaken for Creed himself ordering the defense of the Cadian gate. As he made his was back to where Alvira stood he called to Jed. "Jed, give us the sign if anything is up. When you hear me whisper, get back to Nomad pronto.".
Jed bent his lanky arm around his back and gave a thumbs up as he keep his head around the corner and his eyes on the soldiers. Bruce couldn't help but think to himself that dispite his short comings, there was a reason he kept Jed around.
[[Roll for Jed being sneaky and avoiding drawing attention while keeping watch on the guards = 5]]
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Post by silverruby on Mar 9, 2023 13:18:09 GMT -5
Yul couldn't help the tiny smirk that wove its way across his lips, as the opportunity to earn the thrones he'd spent back presented itself like a gift. House Helvetta certainly wouldn't have willingly let a pet psyker go so easily; A bird in the hand was worth two in the bush... And soon to be in his hands as well, if he played his cards right with the pair in the tent.
"I hear Helvetta's missing some prime property these days. Would be a shame if it was found," Altanbaatar finally met Clacky's gaze while leaning in and lowering his voice. It was clear that the bounty hunter was familiar with the sigils enough to pick Helvetta out of the psyker's ownership tattoos. "Just like what'll happen if the guard actually find what they are hunting for."
"Haven't been home a while, huh? You're probably hurting for some cash to be hustling here, and we both know thrones don't come falling out of the sky."
"Let's see how charming you can be, and I'll forget I found a lost pet," The bounty hunter suggested with a jerk of his head toward the tent as he scooped his coins back into his pocket, picking up the half-empty bowl. Yul took a few steps toward the tent, crowding the entrance to prevent anyone from sneaking out, as much as it was to hide whatever it was the child was holding with the bulk of his coat from prying eyes. The look on his face and the cold, solidified gruel in his hand suggested that he wasn't there for seconds.
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