Rogue Psyker Quest

>>1633157
>check the bodies the bodies for any thing then head home pack your shit and leave
See if you can get on a ship out of here

>>1633157

> Plunder their arms, there's no going back, and we'll need to defend ourselves one way or another.
> After that, run into the wilderness as far as we can, failing that, we run as far as we can into the labyrinthine alleyways of our city.

>>1633157

>test your abilities

Time to see what level of psyker shenanigans we can go through. AND LISTEN TO THE VOICES IN OUR HEAD.

>Search for a guide, one who'll lead us to greatness

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>>1633182
>>1633184
You check the charred bodies of the former Inquisitors after arms, but the only weapons you find are laspistols and a boltpistol. The laspistols are as fried as government regulated fried chicken, and the bolter is far too heavy for you to properly use. You find a wicked looking knife, though, which fits perfectly into your hand.

The thought of flying off planet is attractive, but ships are heavily regulated and essentially the only ones flying them are funded by the Imperium, one way or the other.

You could run out in the wilderness, but you've never seen a tree in the wild in your life and doubt you'd survive a day there. There's also the problem with you standing in the centre of a metropolitan area with more than a billion inhabitants, which will decrease the chance of you finding any forest or such areas greatly. Your room in the tenement you live in is most likely already checked - you doubt the Inquisition is too sloppy to not do that - and so your home is out of the question.

That leaves the city itself. You currently have 75 Throne Gelts on you - your whole fortune, actually, which you can use to hire a room at some motel or day-tenement, but first you have to find one relatively far away so that they don’t have it too easy finding you.

You briskly walk out of the alley with all the subtlety you can muster and join the main road in the area. After a few minutes you can see the planetary defence force - which doubles as a police force - running past you in the direction of the alley; they’re onto you! Walking with increased fervor, you try to get as far away as you can!

You walk for about 1 hour until you decide you are too sleepy and exhausted for walking anymore, so you take in at the nearest day-tenement. These places hire out rooms with a pay-per-day policy relatively cheap, and you give the old man running the place 5 Thrones of your 75.

Sitting in your room, you contemplate what to do.

>try your abilities
>rest
>check government regulated news
>write in

>>1633277

>try your abilities

Try out our abilities. What sort of sweet powers do we have?

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>>1633311
>>1633376

You open the door and check if anyone is trying to peek or spy on you. No spies found. You tenderly sit down on the bed and flick the invisible, mental switch to open the door inside your head and peek inside.

“Sweet Emperor protect!” You’ve never in your life gazed at something so vast before! It’s like an entire sea of nothing but swirling colours moving about in waves. You remember the stories about Daemons, and close it fast, though, but the impression that the sea of colours had on you is not gone. When you were in there, you felt like you could pull some of those swirling colours out of your head and channel it into the real world.

You open the door a small amount, and pull a small amount of the sea out, directing it towards the small glass of water your poured for yourself. The surface of the water turns to ice! The feeling you experienced, that sense of squeezing the sea out in the real world, is exactly the same you felt in the alley.

It is true - you have definite proof - you are a psyker. So if those colours you squeezed out are psychic energy, the sea must be the warp, that which voidships traverse and daemons originate from! You channel some of the energy out from the warp again, but this time you turn it inside out, not literally, and before you a blue-green flame hovers in the air, suspended by nothing! You move the blob of inverted energy around, and the flame follows. It doesn’t produce any heat, though, and you reach out to touch it. It’s cold, almost, but it flickers like a true flame. Add to that it pulses, to what you soon discover is your own heartbeat, and you quickly grow unnerved by the alien flame. You snuff it out.

An idea strucks you - you try to gaze into the warp, without looking directly into it, and you’re rewarded by a sight tinted noir but with flaming beacons of colour through the walls. You press yourself against a wall, grabing your knife, until you realize that those beacons with humanoid outlines are not Daemons, but humans sleeping, talking and, performing sexual intercoursem, you think with a blush, in the other rooms beside you. You can see, although it is more feeling than seeing, their emotions. Flashes of red comes from a two menfighting - you can hear their growling voices through the walls, a red-purple come the loving couple copulating and a blue, not dark nor light, comes from a lonely individual.

Your head hurts from all of this channeling and feeling and your newly aquired… witch-sight, which sounds appropriate and rolls of the tongue.

What do you do now?
>sleep
>check the news
>write in

>>1633415
>sleep

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>>1633541
You lie down to sleep on your hired bed. You don’t doff your clothing nor do you pull the covers over you, due to the bed and the room in general looks like it haven’t been washed in ages. As you try to sleep, you can’t shake off the feeling of that you are watched, by something. First you think it’s your abilities warning you that the Inquisition has come, but you check with your witchsight. The couple has stopped their love-making, the lonely man lie passed out on the floor with presumably a bottle in his hands and one of the men that fought with the other has left since, but no more people are near you.

That unnerves you greatly. The feeling of someone watching you isn’t from any humans, but from some kind of presence in the Warp, most likely a daemon. Risking it, you peek into the warp for a second and then close the opening. Something is out there, circling you. You only saw a swirling mass of black tentacles, but its out there. You could feel the hunger it felt, like it hadn’t eaten in years, and you could gather its intentions without even having to ponder the issue. It will try to force its way into you, but it seems it needs an opening big enough to force itself into you. If you keep your channeling small, you should be save, but it will still give you unwanted attention. If you don’t do any psychic stuff for a while, it might even go away. You fall asleep eventually, though, as the presence of a soul-eating daemon has nothing on the sleepiness you feel.

Even as you close your vision of the warp you can feel that hunger. You shudder, but try to ignore it as best as you can.

Looking over your shoulder at the clock fastened to the wall, you see that the time is 07.00.

What do?
>move further away from the crime scene
>hire the room another night
>find a source of money
>find the spaceport
>buy weaponry
>try to see if you can affect minds with your powers - you can see them, why shouldn’t you be able to nudge a bit?


Also, where the fuck are everybody? Not only in my thread, but also the others - it’s pretty damn dead. Aren’t all Amerifags at home now?

>>1633622
Find a source of money.
Time to get a job or something. No power usage for a bit.

>>1633622
>find a source of money
>>1633642
we dont need to use our power for everything and we dont whant to lure in daemons

>>1633642
like!

>>1633622
>move further away from the crime scene
We're only 1 hour away from the crime scene.
After that, find another day-tenement and work.

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>>1633642
>>1633662
Using your abilities is too dangerous to risk due to the huge frickin’ daemon circling you in the Warp, and your money will dwindle if you don’t find a source of money soon and your old job is out of the question. You used to work as a minor clerk in a company, doubling as a human computer due to the owner not trusting machinery to hold valuable numbers.

You’ll also have problems applying to an employment office, due to them demanding ID, so that’s also out of the question. You could apply directly to some factory, or work as muscle for some gang - with your powers you’d be a valuable asset for any criminal.

There’s also the possibility of volunteering for the Imperial Guard. The training’s long, but it’s a guaranteed ticket offworld due to the rebel incursion in the neighbouring system. You’re unsure whether or not they demand ID, though.

>try to get contact with a gang (more reward, more risk)
>try to get employment at a factory/as a clerk (less money, less risk)
>try to apply to the Imperial Guard (least reward, biggest risk, ticket offworld, ID unsure)

>>1633690
>try to get employment at a factory/as a clerk (less money, less risk)
best to start first

>>1633692
Waiting until there's at least one additional vote for that, or two votes for something else.

>>1633690
>try to apply to the Imperial Guard (least reward, biggest risk, ticket offworld, ID unsure)
Let's rise the ranks legitimately. Life expectancy of both criminals and guardsmen is short, but at least guardsmen die for something greater than some area to sell drugs.
Factory is boring. Boo.

>>1633692
Seconded.

>>1633708
Are you sure? You'll be discovered if you actually join up due to the presence of sanctioned psykers, and if you leave you'll be branded as a deserter.

>>1633690
>>1633710
Actually, can I switch to this:
>>1633708

>>1633708
if we do this we are going to die we have nearly no usefull powers we can make water cold see emotions and be demon bait and we are not that strong and you are just thinking of running into fire and having your soul eaten

>>1633690
>try to get employment at a factory/as a clerk (less money, less risk)

>>1633729
Good point. Maybe we should start with the factory job and possibly go to guard later?

>>1633716
If we join we can not leave and if they discovery US we are going to have our eyes removed tortured brainwashed possibly flayed or just Turner into a servitor so that everything is pain and when destroyed then we have our soul tortured dagen shitout eatean again and birthed from a Virginia with teeth with new tortures ect.

Okay go with the factory shit, but it is temporary. Get some cash, find out what is next.

>>1633754
yes we start low and work up and if it get to boring and not worth our time we can just change our job

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>>1633692
>>1633710
You decide that the least risky and inconspicuous thing to do is to just apply to work in a factory. They can always use an extra pair of hands, even if you are weak, and it’s poor, but fair, pay. You join the main street that connects with a large industry complex nearby - you can ask the administration there if they have any spare slots for workers. As you traverse the street, you see that a large mass of people in a cue for something. You ask a man in the crowd, and he answers with that he has no fucking idea about what he’s waiting for and that you should fuck right off for wasting his time.

Flicking on your witch-sight, which doesn’t channel any warp energy, you see the large blob of colours that is the crowd, but you can penetrate your vision to the far end of the crowd. It’s dotted by flares of red-orange - frustration, and anger, red.

You wait for your turn for a long while probably 30 minutes. You’d leave if it weren’t for loads of people behind you pressing you towards the thing everybody are cueing for. A big gate with Imperial Guardsmen checking everybody before they go through.

You could’ve swore that it wasn’t there when you walked past there a week ago… wait.

Shit. Shit, shit, shit and shit!

There’s monitors fastened onto the block itself - on them? A zoomed in portrait of you, and a text in a large red font - “CONSPIRATOR WITH THE DAEMONIC FORCES - REPORT TO LOCAL AUTHORITIES IMMEDIATELY IF YOU SEE THIS HEATHEN!”

Where the hell did they get that picture? Oh, right, your apartment. Fuck, you have to move.

You turn around, starting a brisk walk from where you came from. You push your way through, but soon people start to point and whisper - they’ve identified you. An angry man shouts: “She’s right there!”

Shit.

>RUN! [MAIN STREET/ALLEY/BUILDING] (tactical retreat, totally not cowardice)
>TRY TO USE YOUR POWERS TO DO… SOMETHING (oooga booga magic)
>FIGHT (glorious melee combat)
>SURRENDER (coward)

>>1633789
is the ground wet?

>>1633814
The rain pours harder as you contemplate what to do. Think, and think fast!

If we surrender, we're probably gonna fuckin' die or worse, get put in a penal battalion. I'm betting on that. I'm thinking we should run. That's my vote.

Going to need a tiebreaker

>>1633789
Use your powers to do something
(Hopefully mind control the shouting man to throw the guards the wrong way

(Your writing style reminds me of the delight games set of game novels btw)

Go run down an alley and freeze theground behind us as opportune
also we should figure out how to transition into a man using the warp so that I can more easily self-insert into this character

>>1633789
freeze a thin smooth layer on the streets but not all so the ice is slippery with water so that they slip and so make lumps so that it hurts when they slip on there butts

>>1633841
I disagree
Being a female would be advantageous for us right now

>>1633844
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=hv6T_CiAe8I
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=G7iL75btov0
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=nTkM9zFQd4c
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=PddyzHgQufI
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=KwbFWq2YLb4

also maybe we can hide in the sewers. mutants are apparently always around in 40k sewers.

We are pretty fucked desu. We need to either get a way off planet or find a way to actually become a sanctinoed psyker. Alternatively we can become a criminal. You know, gangs are often involved in smuggling and whatnot. Maybe we can find a way to get ourselves smuggled the fuck out of here. But who knows, I'm just gonna watch to see what happens next.

>>1633841
I don't even know who you look, gender or anything. Probably going to roll with the female thing, even if it just came out as a typo.

Also, fleshshaping is high-level biomancy shit - essentially the capstone for that discipline.


>>1633839
>>1633841
>>1633844
Writing!


>>1633839
like the lone wolf books, or what?

>>1633863
The delight games are somewhat like those
Its an app for mobile
You should check it out

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You’ve never tried it before, but you channel warp-energy under you and push like with a muscle - and through the sky you soar! You practically fly over the crowd and you hear prayers being muttered and screams from the particularly devout. You don’t really have any control over the warp-assisted leap you just did, so you land on your arse a few paces from the alley you aimed for - excellent!

The Guards might have not spotted when the man shouted, but now they sure as hell have! ”STOP RIGHT THERE, HERETIC SCUM!” You run through the alley, and channel more warp than you’ve ever done.

The entire alley turns to ice, the walls, the ground, everything to perfectly reflective ice. You don’t look back, but you hear a lot of loud cursing behind you as you sprint through the alleyways that slither around chaotically. After a few minutes, you open a door and sprint through. You’re greeted by tenement among many, but these ones are abandoned excepting the rats.

You slam open a door of one and run in, closing it nehind you. You practically jump up the stairs, taking 4 steps of the stair with every real step, and get into a room. It’s practically empty excepting a table, a locker and a few broken chairs, seemingly destroyed in a fit of rage. You opt to hide in the locker, and brandish your knife, just in case.

You wait, 1 minute passes, two minutes passes, three minutes passes. It feels like an hour, but only ten minutes have passed. You’re just about to leave the locker as you hear voices from outside. “Brets, check this tenement, Jorg, check that tenement. We meet up at the square, understood?”

“Yes, sir!”

The guardsman chat for a few seconds outside the tenements, then they converge upon their objectives. The guardsman assigned to your tenement, Brets, you believe, open the front door and checks the first floor. He finds nothing.

The walls are paper thin and floor is creaky - you can hear every single step that guardsman takes in here. He ascends the stairs, one step, two steps, 5 steps. He stops. He walks again. He checks the other rooms, you can hear the doors being opened and closed.

Suddenly, the door to your room is opened. He walks in and looks around, and you have stopped breathing completely. He looks about 20-ish, average height, sandy blonde hair and a nice face. He’s one of those guys that really looks good in a uniform. On his back there’s what you identify as a vox-caster and in his arms a shotgun.

You must act now:
>ambush him (He might overpower you)
>wait (Might find you and alert your presence)
>psychically bamboozle him (might not work, will attract daemons)

>>1633956
>wait (Might find you and alert your presence)

>>1633956
>>1633970
support

>>1633956
>>wait (Might find you and alert your presence)

>>1633970
>>1633981
Going to need a roll. 3d6, under 7 is success.

Rolled 5, 5, 5 = 15 (3d6)

>>1634003

>>1634003
confused?

Rolled 3, 4, 1 = 8 (3d6)

>>1634003

Rolled 5, 4, 2 = 11 (3d6)

>>1634003

Rolled 4, 3, 1 = 8 (3d6)

>>1634003

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>>1634018
The Emperor must hate you - that’s why he made you a psyker, after all. Of course any Guardsman half-incompetent or less would check the sole locker in an otherwise empty room! He spots you through the locker door, and he rips open the door, which was surprisingly brittle, and drags you out on the floor. He kicks you hard in the stomach, and trains his shotgun onto you.

Your eyes connect. You whimper as your back aches and you realize that you’re going to die. You can see him weighing the possibility of sparing you, and then you see a grim determination wash over his face. He fastens his grip on the shotgun and mutters a small sorry. He closes his eyes and moves his finger towa-

You will not die like somecommon dog! If you’re going to die, you are going to do so in glorious melee combat, covered in the blood of your enemies! Channeling some warp, you press it into Brets, the Guardsman. He starts to spasm like an epileptic, barely standing on his two legs. A loud, ringing shot is fired - he must’ve triggered the gun due to the spasms - and a large hole, a metre above you, is formed in the wall. You are quickly on your feet and scramble for your knife which fell on the floor when you were pushed out of the locker. Brets has long since stopped spasming, but is still recovering, and you quickly tackle him onto the floor.

You manage to get on top of him. He’s covered in flak armour, which makes it difficult to cut through into his chest. There’s spots not covered, like just under the loins where the leg- and chest armour connect. You press one of your hands on his throat and press your knife into the weak spot. You look deep into his eyes, as he realizes that he’s dying, as he’s realizing there’s nothing he can do to survive, as he completely rejects the idea of dying, yet helpless to do that physically. You see him realize his fate yet struggle completely against it as you drive your stolen knife deep into his stomach and twist it, causing him to contrast in pain. You drag your knife out of the poor sod and adjust your grip, a stabbing grip.

BLOOD. WILL. BE. SPILLED! You stab him directly in the throat - finally releasing him from the immense pain he was experiencing.

You take a deep breath, realizing what the fuck you just did. You just killed someone. He wasn’t innocent, no, he was about to kill you, but you killed someone - not by accident, but by free will.

And you liked it, even. That's twisted. Were you always like this, a hidden psychopath, or is it the ever shifting, corrupting warp? Is this why they train Psykers, in order to keep them from becoming monsters?

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More pressing events takes your priority, for now, though. The other Guardsmen searching the other tenements are guaranteed to have heard that shotgun being fired. They’re coming for you, as well. As you sit there, covered in the spilled blood of a stranger, killed by your own will, you start to hear whispers of the warp, begging you do open up for them.

The violence and blood you just spilled seemed to gather extra daemonic attention. You can feel the barrier between the real world and the warp being eaten at by the Daemons - holding, but not by much.

What are you going to do?
>grab the shotgun, prepare for battle,
>run
>listen to the daemons
>surrender

Going to take a shit, might take a while for me to come back

>>1634160
>surrender

>>1634170
No way. They're not letting them live now.
>>1634153
>grab the shotgun, run

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Waiting for pic related.

>>1634160
>grab the shotgun, run

>>1634215
Supporting

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>>1634182
>>1634215
You’re completely covered in blood and most likely look like a maniac. A crazied psychopath with psychic powers? Yeah, they’d really spare you - after they’ve put some lead in you, at the least.

Surrender is out of the way, and fighting would be glorious but foolish. All guardsmen you’ve seen thus far had have vox-casters - likely they’ve already called for reinforcements. So you’re running. That doesn’t mean you’re going to let that shotgun go, though, so you pick that up as well. You take your knife with you as well. You’ve already killed someone with it, so it’s practically yours now. It’s former owner is dead, anyways.

You use the butt of the shotgun to shatter the window, which is covered in frost, and jump out. You bruise your legs, but not badly, and you run. You can hear the shouts of the Guardsmen, “Room cleared!” “Affirmative!” “Oh, Emperor… Brets dead, Jorg!”

You run as fast as you’ve ever run in your life. Sprinting past a beggar, you stop in your tracks. How the hell would you stay incognito in a crowd in clothes dripping with blood? You point your gun at the beggar - “You’re going to give me your clothes.” The poor old lady complies and strips before you. You do likewise and throw your bloodied shirt and pants at her, donning her pants and her tattered jacket. You throw a few Thrones at the ground, you didn’t bother to count them, but enough as compensation for these poor excuses for clothes.

You continue running through the sprawling network of alleyways, most deserted, and eventually you run out of breath and adrenaline. You sit down and lean onto a wall. You haven’t even checked if your shotgun had any more shots. The shotgun itself is a double barreled one, and you find with some effort the switch that opens the barrels where one puts the shells. Fortunately, there is still one left.

One shell. One life. Emperor - when did you start thinking in this way?

You can still hear the Daemons begging and trying to persuade you to channel warp - you ignore them. You don’t want to become the foci of a Daemon incursion, much less the creator of one.

Priority 1:
>shelter where you can stay without notice
Priority 2:
>protection, in the form of compatriots or weaponry, etc.
Priority 3:
>get off this rock.

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“Hey, you’re the psykiatrist, right? Psykist, or whatevs?”

Your eyes flick towards a man, in his late 20s or early 30s, clad in a coat and shirt. Classy.

That doesn’t change the fact that he’s here to either kill you or tell someone to kill you, so you grab the shotgun you hid in your jacket. The moment he sees the shotgun he puts his arms in the air.

“Shit mate, don’t kill me! Not here to hand ya in to the Guard, if I did I’d be arrested on sight ‘cus I got plenty bounty on my head, I’m here to giva you a proposition.”

He smiles a crooked smile at you. “I’ve been were you are. Scared, cold and homeless, yeah? I was given a, em, helping hand and was granted an opportunity to earn some money and get me out of that shit. I like to continue the tradition - if you’re not the sentimental type it’s good for business anyways.”

He points to his coat and shirt, complete with tie. “Look like I run a company, yeah? Kinda. I work for bigger people, who work for bigger people, yeah? We do less than legal stuff, but I’m sure you don’t mind seeing the spectacle you left in that tenement, yeah?”

The news have already spread that fast? Or is this man just well informed? If it’s the former, you’re so screwed, nobody in a 100-mile radius is going to let you sleep in one of their cots, or let you hitch a voidship ride.

“I’m here to give you a position in my crew, mate. You get free shit, protection, a dry place, in return we get psychic powers - that’s a good offer if anything, right?”

>Say yes. Protection, money in return? What, blast some ice here and there?
>Say no. There’s something fishy with this bloke.
>Write in

>>1634350
>Say no. There’s something fishy with this bloke.
probably the one that said that we were a heretic and put a bounty on us

>>1634350
>Say yes. Protection, money in return? What, blast some ice here and there?
It's the only option.

>>1634399
>>1634370
Gon need that sweet tiebreaker, lads.

Rolling for it.

>>1634370
is 1.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

His offer might seem good. You long for a place where you can just take a bath, or lay down until the heat has died down, but this offer seems far good to be true. He could just use a proxy to hand you in to the authorities, and if he doesn’t do it instantly, he’ll most likely just blackmail you into doing worse and worse things until you finally break.

Maybe he’s being genuine, which means he’s naive - which is a problem in of itself. Eitherway, you’re not going to take up his offer. Far too dangerous and he seems like one of those smooth talkers - in other words, manipulator - and he’s only going to use you until you’re expired.

If you say no, will he then report you to the Guard? You cannot take chances, unfortunately, and you doubt the world will miss one degenerate criminal. With that in mind, you use your witch- sight on him. He’s flaring a light yellow-orange; he’s concerned, about his own health, presumably, or this recruitment pitch, perhaps both, and at the same time nervous. Perhaps this was a big assignment for him. You look around you with your witch-sight. In a side alley, there are two people, both flaring the same thing that their master is.

“Did you bring any friends here?” you ask.

“Nah, mate, I’m ain’t one of those backstabbin’ types.” Nervosity flaring, sickly green - deception.

You ready yourself for the carnage that is incoming. Taking a deep breath of the tranquility - taking in the tensions of the conversation. Blood will be spilled on this ground - paradoxically, you feel at peace when you come to that realization, just as you channel a miniscule amount of warp. Directing it at the man, you do exactly like you did with the Guardsman, except this time you turn it to a more malign purpose.

Instead of causing him to spasm, you wrack him pain. Inconceivable pain, if only for a moment, will drive any man to his knees with tears in his eyes. His screams does not go unheard, and you hear his hiding men spring to action as well. Taking your chance, you slit the criminals throat with a simple cut and he falls to the ground like wheat to a scythe. Lunging behind a long rusted car, just in time before his men opened fire. You peek a bit and see them. One incredibly large man, at least 7’, and one smaller, about 5’6”. The constrast is comical. The larger man is armed with an autogun that looks like a childs toy in his hands and the smaller man is armed with a laspistol.

You whip out your shotgun, holding it in one hand, and your knife in the other. Emperor, make this work.
You hear the notorious cracking sound of the laspistol, like a whip, but it is nothing compared to the thunder that is a fully automatic ballistic weapon - an autogun, in other words. You doubt you will ever grow used to that thunder of a gun, but that’s not the sound you’re looking for, nor the sound of casings striking the ground. No, the sound you’re looking for is something you’ve never heard but is fully capable of imagining.

Laspistols have hundreds of charges in them - eventually it will run out, but you doubt you’re that lucky. Autoguns, on the other side? They had magazines and are fully automatic - which means you’ll just have to wait for it to run ou -

There. The sound of a magazine clattering against pavement - that’s the sound you were waiting for. Springing into action, you jump out from behind the rusted car and instantly wrack the smaller man, the only one with a loaded weapon, with pain, just like with the smooth-talker you executed 15 seconds or so ago. He’s a lot more fragile than the smooth-talker, though, and is lying on the floor convulsing in extreme pains.

Here comes the second part of the plan. The bigger man is frantically trying to reload his gun, and during that period of time you close the distance. 15 metres, 10 metres, 5 metres. He gives out a shout of thrill as he manages to reload his gun and trains it on -

That’s about when you unload the shotgun in his face, and his entire upper torso is mutilated - the head gone entirely. The smaller man, who stopped convulsing like a fool a few moments ago, is still lying at the floor - you do the same to him as you did with the smooth-talker.

You try to ignore the giddy feeling you got from that one-sided battle, and instead turn your eyes onto the spoils of the battle. You quickly check through their corpses. The laspistol is barely functional - you’re suprised it worked during the one-sided battle and the smaller man didn’t have anything else of value on him.

The bigger man is far too messy and bloody - covered in guts and what not - for you to even contemplate touching. The smooth-talker, though, carried 30 throne gelts, likely to pay the thugs, and a stub revolver, loaded with 6 spare rounds.

You throw the shotgun, now entirely devoid of ammunition, into the rusted car. You get the idea of grabbing the smaller mans toque, as mostly a disguise, and run off as far as you can.

File: room.jpg (125KB, 550x413px) Image search: [Google]

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You run for about 15 minutes, then you slow down and try to remain incognito and not draw much attention. Of course, you always have attention - even now in the relative safety of a poorly lit and sparsely populated alley you can feel them banging on the barrier, screaming at you to channel more of the warp. You can’t press it anymore - even channeling a drop of warp would give them enough leverage from which they can bend open a portal. Even a tiny peek would do so - and most likely doom the entire city.

You think you understand now why the Inquisition wants to train and control all psykers.

Eitherway, you find yourself on one of the main roads - walking there for a while and going into a side alley every now so often to avoid Guard patrols. Eventually you find your way into a day-tenement and hire a room for a day (6 Thrones). It’s evening, so you found it rather perfectly.

Money:
>94 Throne Gelts

Weaponry:
>combat Knife
>stub revolver, 6 rounds maximum, 6 loaded 6 spare.

Misc items:
>inconspicuous toque

Abilities:
>warp-sight - see aura and emotion of other people
>spasm - cause the targets muscles to spasm
>inflict pain - inflict unspeakable pain upon target
>torch - create a heatless flame
>precognition - see a few moments into the feature
>freeze - freeze a surface, lower temperature etc.

Daemonic attention:
>9 / 10, if you reach maximum you will be turned inside out and your inverted arse used as a daemonic portal | +1 per ability use, -3 per day.


You go to sleep in the shabby room - but by now you're used to them, and you sleep rather soundly - even considering the Daemonic forces barely contained inside your cranium!

You wake up about 8:31 PM and eat the cheap, free breakfast, which is about as shabby as the room itself, included with the room whilst contemplating about what to do next:
>try to reach the city spaceport
>apply for work
>write in

Going to sleep - it’s 5.45 AM here, sleep might be for the weak but I am meek. Also, I am turning tripfag for a day or two, due to me going to switch computer for a while, so even if my thread ID changes I will still have the same trip.

>begins as innocent, not-wanting to hurt anybody quest
>ends with edgy mcmurderknife
Christ /qst/

Dang that was fucked up. It was a good deal too. Fuckin dice.

>>1634808
>Write-in
Cut our hair. Scout out the general area for work, stores, guard shifts. Also, keep our eyes open for cameras. On the plus side, if any guards go after us again, we can just threaten to open a portal on spot (Which they most certainly wouldn't want).

>>1634808
>try to reach the city spaceport

>>1634924
this

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That breakfast might not have been the tastiest nor most nutritious, but after a night filled with physical exertion and violence? Might as well been real meat - not just beef-flavoured nutrition-bars!

You’ve already left the tenement and started to wander the streets. In the local square there’s a daily market. Seeing as your shirt is dirty, ragged and bloody, you buy a new one. Your revolver is still hidden in the jacket you stole from the old beggar yesterday, and its heavy weight is a constant reminder of your new life - this sad, brutal world that is your reality.

You need money, though. 6 Thrones per day for a room, add in 2 for food and other necessities, you will only last for 10 days until you run dry of funds. That means you’re going to have to find employment, though. Seeing as your face is likely global news by now, it won’t be easy.

That factor kinda rules out any work that is legal, actually. All companies check for ID, so even if you manage to hide your physical appearance well enough you’re still screwed. You could get a fake one, but that costs loads of money - which closes the loop.

You have a toque on your head, stolen from that smooth-talking bloke - an uncomfortable ball forms in your stomach as you remember what you did last night - which hides your identity well, but not perfectly. You could perhaps dye your hair blonde, or some other non-eye catching colour, but that’s an idea for another day.

So working for a store or a storage-facility is out of the question. Nobody is going to hire someone that can combust into flames and turn into a Daemonic Portal just because a sufficiently powerful daemon tried to push its way through your mind.

There are, however, some alternatives, so all hope is not lost.

>>1636091
As loath you are to admit it, wrestling the control over a smaller gang is a perfectly legitimate way to earn money now. Your witch-sight will allow you to easily manipulate the poor fools, who’re mostly men between their mid-teens to mid twenties (they don’t live longer than that, usually, and those who do things of more importance than leading a small gang). You have never been part of a gang before, but you know people who were (and subsequently died) and they explained the gang-dynamics to you - the gang is ruled by a strong leader. That leaders legitimacy can be refuted at any point, but your points will only be taken seriously if you have the strength to back up your claims. With your new abilities, you should easily be able to eliminate the leader and any competition.

On the other hand, you could just try to infiltrate a voidship. The local space-port is [b]huge[/b] and can be seen from miles away - some ship is due to have a few lazy eyes not doing their duty. If that way fails, you could ditch your dignity and [i]charm[/i] your way aboard, which might not be a very honourable way of getting offplanet, but a way nonetheless.

You could, of course, turn yourself in to the authorities. You’re sick and tired of constantly checking your back, of always feeling the weight of a gun in your jacket. You’re tired of the sporadic instances of violence that occurs whenever you meet someone trying to use you or hurt you.

You’re tired, dirty and afraid - you want it to stop, and the fastest way of doing that is to turn yourself in.

>turn yourself in
>try to wrestle control over a gang to gain security, firepower and authority
>the spaceport is your ticket out of here

>>1636096
>>try to wrestle control over a gang to gain security, firepower and authority

>>1636096
>the spaceport is your ticket out of here
Try to join a rouge trader or something

>>1636194
Oh about get on a ship and take out a gang thats on it and steal the ship?

>>1636198
>>1636197
Ships are a pretty big deal, unfortunately. Costs fortunes, guarded by lots of people and requires a navigator.

Still counting your initial vote, though.

>>1636207
Thats ok
Just an idea

Going to need a tiebreaker!

>>1636096
>the spaceport is your ticket out of here

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The starport was even more massive than you imagined. A teeming hive filled with thousands of cars, people and cargo being constantly moved around, in a cacophony of order and chaos - entwined. Even to your untrained eyes, unfamiliar with the patterns and doctrines these workers - cargo haulers, mechanics, crewmen - you see a sort of brutal efficiency in it. It’s been honed over years, you realize, and these men have done this their entire lives. The colour grey dominates the scene - the buildings, the pavement, the people, even.

You’ve sometimes seen the hint of a starship on the sky, and once heard one of the ships combust - thousands died - but you’ve never gazed directly upon something so big yet manmade. A sense of pride fills you as you truly realize the greatness of Man. They’re all from 1 kilometer long to 6! All made out of gleaming metal, sometimes adorned with things that break the pattern of grey steel.

Yet as you look upon these gleaming ships, you feel something [i]off[/i] about them. There’s something that’s not right - a sense of dread comes over you. That sense quickly turns to fear and you contemplate turning around 180 degrees and walking away. Overcoming those urges, you look through the lens of the warp into the ship that struck so much terror into you.

It was an abomination. Through experimentation, common knowledge and superstition, you’ve come to know that the warp were where all souls came to rest when they died. That the Emperor was the only thing protecting them from eternal torture in the warp after death.

But this [b]thing[/b] was wrong! It was simply a void, nothing in a sea of everything imaginable. You felt a dull throb start to form in the back of your head as you try to look at it - even the Daemons have stopped begging you to release them, they keep their distance from.. Whatever this is.

The void originate from what you recognize as a transport vessel - you doubt a measly vessel of probably only 800 meters can traverse the warp - and itss cargo seems to be what is eating up the warp around it. Cargo may be the wrong word for it - you think you can hear the muffled screams of...people? Like a man buried alive under 7 feet of soil - perhaps, hopefully, you only imagined it?

>investigate these voids and their inhabitants
>run like hell
>write in

>>1636321
>investigate these voids and their inhabitants

>>1633277
>no shooty in this quest

hm, this quest is probably going to suck

>>1636421
except there is

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>>1636373
Leaping over the walls surrounding the spaceport with a warp assisted jump, you ponder about how sloppy the security here is. You then realize that the walls are 20 meters high and 5 metres thick. Soaring through the air, you actually land on your feet this time, with minimal bruising!

You quickly crouch down, though, as you realize that the area is heavily patrolled by what looks like Navy Troopers. You contemplate unholstering your revolver, but realize that it will rub off in the wrong way if anyone spots you. As you close the distance to the ship, the throbbing in your heads turns into an ache and you start hearing it.

The wails. The wails of what must a dozen people - yet these wails are not physical. Nay, these wails are psychic in nature, a screeching sound penetrating your very soul, shattering your morale and crushing any will you had. The only thing you can concentrate on is the pain. The only thing worth concentrating on is the pain; so intense is the pain that everything else than it disappears.

You gather your wits for a second and sprint as fast as you can from the ship, up over the wall. The throbbing does not stop, though, and when you jumped over the wall back the throbbing turns into a hammer hammering nails from inside your forehead.

What the hell were even that? Was it some kind of anti-psyker weaponry? The dockworkers and crewmen outside were continuing their duties as per normal, even if they seemed a little bit spooked by the great ship. Perhaps - seeing as it was a wailing - perhaps it was psykers? Was that wailing the screams of captured psykers? You shudder - realizing how lucky you were not to be put in that ship. You stood 100 meters away from it and had to repress urges to kill yourself - imagine sitting right in it!

Daemonic scourge be damned, now you’re sure as hell ain’t going to surrender to the authorities.

What do? It’s currently 8 PM, so you naturally check in to one of those day-tenements. You pay the fee, 4 thrones, and lie down in the shabby bed. Emperor, what those poor psykers must experience…

You wake up, naturally, and eat the free nutri-bars (chicken, you think, flavor) that comes with the room. You contemplate what to do next:
>put an end to those poor psykers misery by destroying the ship (long-term goal, highly difficult)
>subjugate a gang (which might help with the destruction of the ship)
>lay low for a while
>write in

Sorry for the late reply - I fell asleep. Anyways, I'm going to sleep for good now, see y'all later.

I also got a twitter for anyone that is interested - I'll tweet a message an hour or so before a new session starts.

https://twitter.com/CatachanonQM

Thanks for participating.

>>1636619
subjugate a gang (which might help with the destruction of the ship)
Thats ok thanks

>>1636619
>put an end to those poor psykers misery by destroying the ship (long-term goal, highly difficult)
>subjugate a gang (which might help with the destruction of the ship)

That ship needs to be destroyed, but we need to secure a way to survive in the meantime.

Of course, a gang takeover would do that perfect, and the gang can help with that goal later on.

Why does the ship need to be destroyed, anyway? Why does the MC give a fuck?

>>1636958
Empathy, mate. It's pretty nice.

>>1636932
Seconded. Plus it'll be fun.

>>16369710
Weren't empathetic before when those criminals died. Maybe there is a good reason people like the MC suffer in chains.
The MCs motivation up to now has been just a desire to survive. I don't want to go on some gay moral mission to free all the other psykers. I just want to get off the rock and rise in the ranks somewhere while not getting blammed. Officership in IG, Magos in admech, Lieutenant in criminal gang, etc. Blowing up imperial shit doesn't accomplish anything for the MC.

>>1637333

The fundamental motivation of the character is survival, yes, but she's not inherently a psychopath, as evidenced by the reactions and thoughts she has before, after and during her violent sprees.

She is still empathetic, not a complete psycho, the thing is that she's forced to do horrible things against her will to ensure her own survival.


One of the fundamental themes: how far will she go?

>>1636619
>>subjugate a gang (which might help with the destruction of the ship)

...

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Gangs unceremoniously ruled the poorer parts of the city - the law had long since abandoned the efforts to root them out due to their stubbornness to stay alive. 2 billion people lived in this metropolitan area alone - there’s bound to be illegal immigrants, drug addicts, general scum of the world, really.

The area you had grown up in had several gangs and many of your poorer friends ended up joining one, eventually. You were lucky - your father was a relatively high-up administrator and thus earned quite a bit of money, but lived still in the area due to the majority of your family lived there.

They’re all dead or have moved, by now. Most of them died in glorious combat against xenos in a far away system, including your father. Your mother had died when you were young, though.

You realize that you can’t travel to your home area, seeing as they’re most likely monitoring that area. Instead you opt to travel to one of the ‘no-go’ zones of the city - one of the areas where you are lucky to be robbed instead of raped and killed, most often in that order, but not always.

It’s not very far, and you catch a train there. Inner-city trains are widely used by everyone to get everywhere - the great train central is the pulsating heart of the system.

You see quite fast the area you’re traveling to is poor and downtrodden. The building whisk by in the window, but what you see from the small pictures of reality out there isn’t very positive. Abandoned buildings, streets filled with weeds and open criminality. The criminals here are a far cry from the almost classy ones you encountered - and butchered, you add, shuddering - in the alley a few days ago.

You leave the train and walk out of the local station briskly - no reason to make a target of yourself. You walk the streets for a while, taking in the air untainted by machinery - this used to be an industrial area, you notice. Perhaps this area was part of the now shut-down naval trade, producing ships and the parts needed for their maintenance, which stopped when the ocean dried off? Eitherway, it’s long abandoned. Only the poor, criminals and, as said by rumours, mutants lived here now. There’s still a few production facilities left, though, so the area wasn’t completely abandoned.

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>>1643575
You switch on your witch-sight for a while, hoping to find somewhere where a lot of gang members congregate. Walking about for a while, that’s exactly what you find. Positioning yourself in a dark alley, you notice the leaving and entering by many young men in gang colours, although you don’t recognize them, in a building, blaring music from within and the laughter, screams and talks of people inside. Your witch-sight tells you that the people in there feel the comfort many people only feel within their homes, along with giddiness, happiness, anger and other normal feelings that are bound to be found in a crowd. This is why you came here - to grasp control over a criminal gang. This is a gang - this is your chance. As you observe the building and its occupants, you contemplate of what way to approach them.

>intimidation [by a show of force or violence, gain their respect]
>persuasion [by your natural wit and charisma gain their respect]
>leave [perhaps this wasn’t such a good plan after all]
>write in

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>No new posts

>>1643579
>intimidation [by a show of force or violence, gain their respect]

>persuasion

>>1643775
Ultimately, you decide that a show of force is the most appropriate way of approaching them is by using the only thing they understand - power. You take a deep breath and approach the building. Slamming open the metal door, you interrupt their little congregation. The music is loud, some kind of electronic music, but it soon shut down. You need to make an impression on them - you need to make them fear you.

“Who is the biggest, baddest motherfucker here?” You actually manage to sound relatively menacing!

You’re met with laughter, though. A tall young man approaches you, saying:
“That’d be me. You look familiar, though! You look like one of the skanks I usually fuck” a round of laughter goes around the room, a few red faced and with tears in their eyes - they have to be high on something.

You realize that they’re going to rob you, or worse, in short if you don’t do something.

>release the burning inferno of rage you feel contained under your skin
>try to dip into the emotional aura of the leader - completely vaporise it
>use the electrical currents of your nerves and enhance them with the warp - make him toast
>crush him with the force of gravity - you can feel it bend to your will
>reveal your identity as a psyker - use it to garner fear
>write in

>>1643824
>try to dip into the emotional aura of the leader - completely vaporise it

>>1643831
The psychic aura of people have always been bent and manipulated by warp currents, although not incredibly much, but noticeable enough. You doubt that normals, as you’ve come to call non-psykers, notice it, but you can.

You filter out the laughter and the insults of the gang members, and focus on manipulating the warp. You garner a large amount of warp and form it into a current, guiding it towards the small, but existent, psychic present of their leader. It’s more than somebody should sanely handle, and you see the results instantly. Every thought, although you cannot read them nor understand them is completely removed, and emotions are stripped away except for some kind of variation of pain, anger, frustration and fear.

You see the results in the real world, as well. The leader stops talking and looks absently into nothing. He then promptly starts screaming.

“AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH!” Not stopping even for a breath. The warehouse goes silent except for his screams. He collapses onto the floor and starts convulsing like an epileptic. You grow tired of his incessant screaming and flick your wrist, guiding a final, lethal amount of warp current onto his crippled warp-presence. His soul, his aura, whatever you want to call it - is snuffed out instantly. He lies still on the floor.

A strange pattern of frost has formed around you as the epicenter. This always happens when you manifest any psychic phenomena - some is lost to inefficiency and creates frost, or an eery breeze, or something that the errant warp energy can transform itself into as pure warp can’t seem to exist in the material universe.

All of the present eyes are on you. You remove your toque and a wave of murmurs circulate the room as they identify you. “It’s her… daemon worsh… Empero-”.

“I am laying claim on this gang. Your former leader is… out of service, and I am taking his place. Yes, I am a psyker - and if you tell anyone I’m going to do the same to you as I did to your former leader.” Your witch-sight tells you that they are genuinely afraid.

“Do you understand?” You flick your wrist and a flame forms in your hand. You feed the flame more warp and as it grows in your hand the gang grows more fearful. You snuff it out.

“Who was his second in command?” A younger man, not above 20 yet not under 18, reaches upwards with his hand. You beckon him to come towards you. He’ll be your lieutenant - your link to the men.

“I want you to explain to the men that…”

>that I will kill anyone that disobeys
>that with a psyker leading their gang they’ll reach greatness
>write in

>>1643906
>>that I will kill anyone that disobeys
>>that with a psyker leading their gang they’ll reach greatness
whynotboth.jpg

>>1644011
this

>>1644074
>>1644011
You talk to him in a low voice, doing the same thing you did to their former leader - manipulating his emotion, but this time you try to be more subtle with it. Instead of just overloading his head until he breaks you - you instead press a much smaller amount of the warp into his presence and onto the strings of fear he’s experiencing, making him even more fearful.

“If you try to oppose me I’ll turn you inside out.” He whimpers. Emperor, you are enjoying this. “Do you understand?” You enhance his fear even further, almost seeing him crumble before you. He nods frantically. “Excellent.”

You release the effect of fear on him, partially, and say:
“With the help of a psyker, your gang will rise to greatness. No other gang can oppose you, at all, with me.” You take a deep breath, “any revenge for your former master will be punished - I hope you didn’t like him.”

You enquire about the quantity of members you have at your disposal - 16, 17 before you killed the leader. The name of the gang is the Press Gang - due to that the building here used to be pressing manuals for the Imperial Guard as their imperial tithe earlier.

You enquire about lots of similar things - the training, the names, the composition of the gang. The opposition, as well. There’s lots of gangs that fight for turf, drugs and hardware. This is one is apparently one of the smaller ones which only existed because the former leader united them forcefully, not unlike how you just did, under one leader.

Eitherway, the clock is 3.30 PM and you have a 16 young men, if scared shitless and hateful of you, which makes you contemplate what to do.

>rest for the rest of the day
>go to war with a rivaling gang
>try to use your abilities to attempt to control your gang [essentially try to instill unnatural loyalty in you - can have consequences if you fail - roll 1d10]


Sorry for late reply, players are really sparse tonight and I forgot to check

>overloading his head until he breaks you
obviously meant:
>overloading his head until he breaks

>>1644102
>rest for the rest of the day
taking over a gang is tiring work

You can feel the exhaustion already - it’s always tiring channeling and forming the warp, and even more touching the feelings of other people, you’ve find.

You opt to rest, and you ask where the former leader slept. The gang member cringes and tells you that he slept in the office off in the loft, and points in the direction. You climb the ladder up to the loft and enter the office. It’s illuminated by an electrical lamp with a mattress on the floor without a frame. It doesn’t have any covers, only a pillow. You lie down to rest, not sleep, and you hold your revolver in your hand pointed to the door, just in case.

You can hear a heated argument, obviously about you, outside, but you can’t distinguish individual words. With your witch-sight you can see anger, frustration and fear, especially when somebody speak - probably because they fear that you will hear them. It’s funny how you actually enjoy the fear they have for you - you’d never would’ve done that before all this, but now? You relish in it.

Somewhere along, you fall asleep, and you wake up, without having you throat slit! You contemplate what to do:
>get breakfast
>start gangwar in order to eliminate competition
>try to instill unnatural loyalty in your gang, which might have consequences
>write in

Sorry for the extremely late reply. It’s just so incredibly late. Eitherway, I’ll be running tomorrow same time, most likely. If you want to be really sure follow me on twitter,

@CatachanonQM

Thanks for participating for tonight.

>>1644255
>write in
Interact with them and lay down new rules, hopefully making it easier to instill loyalty later.

>>1633789
I wanted to say keep walking here since we are a guy, but oh well.

>>1644255
Rules, then gangwar. Don't just eliminate the competition, identify targets based on how dangerous they are, and only kill them. There are people in other gangs that were probably forced into joining. Start cleaning the streets.

>>1644689
>>1644418
What types of rules? Rules as in doctrines, rules as in conduct etc?

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You peek out of your door, revolver in your hand. There’s no such thing as too much paranoia. The loft is clear of people, but you hear the whispered conversation of people down on the main floor. You can see now that the warehouse is divided into ‘rooms’ separated by walls of crates and in them cots and storage. Guns, food, drugs - everything is up for display. The gang is there, you count 12, which is not the whole gang, 4 is missing.

You climb down the ladder and you hear the low conversations end - all attention is on you. The former lieutenant steps forward, and starts talking. You can see that he’s flaring the light orange-yellow that is nervous, but also determination.

“If you just were some punk that came in here, killed our leader and said you were his replacement, we’d just thrown in a frag grenade into your room and be done with it.” Fuck, you’d knew it’d come to this. You start to channel the warp - and see the gang members recoil in fear. Huh, normals can feel when you channel it?

The lieutenant coughs and hastens his speech - “but you ain’t no ordinary punk. We were up all night and discussed this thing. With a psyker on our side ain’t nobody gonna fuck with us. I’ll be honest with ya - we’re not the biggest or baddest gang out there so everybody picks on us like we’re not a real gang. But that’s gonna change. With you? They gonna bow to us or have their heads blown out.” You nod, and he takes a deep breath and continues. “Trick, Daml, Lioe - fuck, you don’t need to hear their names - didn’t agree with the rest of us and left. The rest of us are ‘kay with you leading. Kelt was a fucker, anyways.” You assume that was the former leader.

“We’re gonna have to lay down some rules, though. If you try to kill one of us like you did with Kelt with your conjurin’ we leaving, fast as fuck. You ain’t gonna tamper with our share - here we share equally - and if you’re not up for that we leaving. ‘Kay?”

That sounds… actually sounds kind of decent. You nod, once more, and the lieutenant gives out a satisfactory sigh. “Get on with your business, then!” The gang disperses from the little crowd it had formed, all very pleased you accepting their terms. The lieutenant walks over to you and offers you a seat on a crate behind you, and you sit down. He sits on a nearby crate and using a stack of cardboard boxes - bayonets, it says on the box - as a table, he pours some kind of liquid into a plastic cup with a… teapot?

“I’m glad you accepted our part of the deal and didn’t, uh, brainroast us or anything. Eitherway, it’s your turn to state your part of the deal.” He pulls out another cup - “Tea?”

>>1646538
You’d never imagine the day when a gangster- your gang lieutenant- would offer you tea. It’s a very amusing thought - a tea drinking gangster. You eloquently accept - “Um, yeah.” - and contemplate what to state as your terms. You also contemplate appropriate questions to ask him, such as what they make most of their money from.

>state appropriate terms (i.e listen to me, give me money, etc.)
>ask what their main source of income is
>ask how trained they are
>ask how powerful their opposition is
>write in

>>1646543
>>ask what their main source of income is

Lets see what they got now and see how can improve things.

>>1646598
“What’s your main source of income?” you enquire, quite interested. It’s probably something exciting, like robberies with lots of gunfights an -

He looks away, clearly embarrassed. “Erhm, we mostly just pick pockets and break into houses in the richer areas. We also deal some drugs, but we mostly only hold turf in order to lessen the other gangs profits. We tried to do protection rackets and that sorta thing, but the mechanic we fucked with called some mates of his and waited for us to come back a week later and demand payment. Fuck, I think 3 or 4 guys was blown to bits by shotguns that night. Yeah, yeah, we torched the place and slaughtered the owner with knives ‘n shit, but we don’t do that no more. We smart and learn, you know.”

He sips his tea, which amuses you. “Anyways, you ain’t have stated your terms yet.”

>state appropriate terms (i.e listen to me, give me money, etc.)

And

>ask how trained they are
>ask how powerful their opposition is
>write in

>>1646628

Here's the deal, you listen to me and follow my lead and I will make you "The Gang" of this city. I am talking respect, money and power all of it. My cut will be the same as everyone for now, but when that changes you will have so much you will have no reason to complain. We square?

>ask how trained they are
Also ask what weapons they have.

>>1646710
“You listen to me, you follow my lead and I will make you the gang of town. ‘Kay? I want my fair share, but expect that to later, but that is not going to be a problem considering the amount of money you are going to be making.” You look him in the eye and he gulps and nods.

“Yeah, that sounds like a straight deal.” He looks over his shoulder. “Could you just, you know, don’t do that psyk-shit when looking me in the eyes? It’s scary already.” Huh, you look down at your hands. The tea cup has a rim of frost on it - you must’ve accidentally drawn some of the warp. That’s most likely why he gulped - you unintentionally and unawarely altered his emotional state. Is that even moral? You’re essentially overwriting what is making him huma -

No need for such thoughts - especially not now.

“Great. Now, what is the current state of the men? Are they capable in battle?”

“Um, kinda. That’s why we put up with Kelt, anyways. He was a deserter from the Imperial Guard, had lots of formal training, apparently an officer although I’m not so sure about that, might’ve been false bragging. Eitherway, that bloke knew how to fight. Could pick apart 3 men at the same time, hit targets for 50 paces away with shitty equipment, yada yada. He was competent, at least in battle.” He smiles at you. “He taught us lots a useful shit, like how to properly aim and what covering fire is, but not only that sorta thing. Also that you could recharge your lascharges in fires and how to clean rifles. We used to just throw away bad hardware, now we can at least check what’s wrong.”

He takes moves his hand towards his cup, but stops when he sees your. “Shit, was that you?” He’s clearly looking at your frosted cup of tea - a bit scared, really. “Yeah, happens sometimes.” you reply.

“Eitherway, what kind of firepower do you pack?”

“Erhm, mostly stub pistols, shotguns and unreliable autoguns. Snek has a lasgun, though, and Bert a flamer, although the only time he’s used it was when we torched that mechanic's shop.” He grins and looks you in the eyes, “Firepower isn’t going to be a problem anymore, though. What with you on our side. I’ve heard… I’ve heard that psykers can control minds, turn flesh to stone and release burning storms of fire. That true?”

>exaggerate
>be honest
>downplay

>>1646791
>be honest

Just make it clear to keep it to himself we don't need rumors going around just yet.

Let's talk targets, someone who owes the gang or disrespect it. Something to earn some reputation and make the new leadership know.

>>1646827
Backing.

>>1646827
>>1646845
“Eh, I’m not able to do all of that. At least not yet. I can fuck with heads, though not control them, and summon fire, but not storms. I’ve never thought about petrifying somebody, might try that sometime.”

You take a deep breath, and continue. “What I can do is a multitude of things - I can make enemies go into murderous rages, killing their own allies, I can crush a man under his own weight, I think, and I can make someone experience unimaginable pain and fear - crippling them for life. I think I can gaze at the future, at least a few moments, too, because I’ve noticed I’ve gotten a lot more proficient in gauging what somebody will do and creating plans on the fly.”

He takes a fearful look at you - “You haven’t fucked with our heads, right? We’re not puppets under your control?” He seems genuinely afraid.

“No - if I could do something of that magnitude I’d already assumed direct control of an Imperial Guard company.”


“Ah, good, thought this conversation was all a cover to make us more obedient as your slaves, or something.” You laugh, making him more nervous - “If I was able to assume direct control of your mind I wouldn’t need to convince you to follow me - I’d fuck with your head and make you believe I was some kind of deity, maybe the Emperor himself, so you’d follow me blindly.” He’s even more nervous now, you’re not very good at this thing.

In order to salvage the conversation you ask:
“You...what’s your name anyways?” He answers, “Coin, ‘cause I good with money.” It seems everyone here has totally moronic names. “Coin, what are the other gangs? Anyone that are causing you trouble or fucking with ya?”

He straightens his back, clearly serious. “Yeah. We border to the Chains and the Bolts, but both are royally fucking us over. They don’t respect our territory, deal drugs on our grounds and extort tenants on our turf. They’re cutting a major beef from our income, which has become increasingly sparse lately, anyways. We don’t, I mean we didn’t, have the firepower to oppose them. They’ve got thrice our numbers, both of them, and rumours going around that they stole a Leman Russ, the Chains that is. I have no idea how, but I doubt that’s only a rumour. They all are outfitted in flak and carry military grade lasguns and autoguns. Personally I think they successfully hit a military storage in one of the Imperial Guard strongholds in the city, but eitherway they’re decked out for war.”

He looks down. “We would’ve been crushed if they actually realized how pathetic we are compared to them, but now? We’re going to fucking crush them and you’re going to try that crush a man under his weight thing on their leader.”He spits on the floor and continues, “He’s a total cunt.”

>ask more questions
>check out the ‘armory’
>ask to spar with some of the men
>scout the Chains/Bolts
>write in

>>1646950
>>1646950
>>scout the bolts

I rarer not deal with a tank right now.

>>1646993
You might as well start to work, anyways. “Any chance of getting some of the men to scout?”

Coin takes a final sip of his tea and crushes the plastic cup in his hands, stands up and yells.

“Alright you arse-lickin’ fuckbottles! The boss wants scoutin’ men - I want Snek, Kork and somebody else to scout out the Bolts - I want armaments, numbers and location! You heard than, men? That mean what, exactly?!”

All of the present men yell back: “Gangwar!”

“That’s right my precious lads!” He turns to you: “They’ve a lot of faith in you - they would’ve protested if I implied war against the Bolts before you. Eitherway, are you accompanying them or stayin’ here?”

>accompany the scouting force
>stay here - do other productive things, such as…
>write in

>>1647050
>>accompany the scouting force

Fear me but follow!

>>1647050
Stay with the remaining dudes and go over their equipment.

>>1647050
>>accompany the scouting force

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>>1647194
>>1647177
“I’ll be accompanying them. I’m proficient in these things due to my… skills.”

You go to the small congregation of the 3 scouting men. Snek, a tall narrow young man, left eye blank devoid of all colour, Kork, a short but wide man filled to the brim with muscle and finally, the lone volunteer - Tock, an average height man, although fat, naked as the day he was born excepting his underpants. He has a big, silvery analog clock around his neck, which is probably where his name is from.

You cast a curious glance at him and he replies, bold with no fear: “What? I need to feel natural if I’m to blend in with the shadows, yeah?” He’s obviously referring to his lack of clothes

You sigh - this really is the most incompetent gang in the area. Eitherway, you move out. You ask Tock after the time and he replies, not even checking the clock around his neck, instinctively:
>1021

You move out in the streets - which are strangely deserted. The sky is baby-blue and the wind brisk, if a bit cold. The only ones you see are beggars, picking through long since abandoned plastic bags and dumpsters.

You pass an old woman and Snek asks you to stay back when he talks to her. He comes back and tells you that she’s an informant for the gang, and that she told him that the Bolts moved their HQ a week ago. That alone saved you one hour of walking, seeing as the chaotic alleys of this area are hard to navigate and that their new location is far closer.

You walk for a quarter of an hour or so, before Snek signals you to stop. You stand in the shadow of an alley, looking at some strange man. You’re just about to ask Tock why you stopped when you realize it. On further examination of the strange man, you notice that he is carrying clothes only dyed grey and orange, but more importantly, his head is bald except the sides… on which his locks are tied to large bolts. A Bolter, you realize. You whisper to your group what you’re going to do:

>capture him, interrogate him, let him go
>what method?
>psychic (mental/physical), intimidation, torture etc.
_
>capture him, interrogate, let him go
>what method?
>psychic psychic (mental/physical), intimidation, torture etc.
_
>wait until he has passed
>write in

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>No new posts

>>1647638

Currently at work so I can't post right now.

>>1647679
>Currently at work so I can't post right now.
>posting

You make me both sad and mad, anon

>>1647679
But you just posted.. :^)
>Interrogate then hold him hostage back at HQ until we're finished our mission

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“Y’all, here’s how it’s going down: Snek, you’re going to be our lookout, Tock, Kork - I’m going to sweep that lad of his feet and I want you to carry him fast out of the street from prying eyes. ‘Kay?”

You get a load of serious nods as replies. You turn to the man, who must be slightly drunk seeing his chaotic gait. Drawing a small amount of the warp, you focus it into a physical force and push it onto his lower body - tripping him. He gives a loud shout as your men sprint across the street and you devote your entire concentration to one task - dampening all emotions in the poor sod and causing one emotion to, paradoxically, flare up - calm. You weave strings of calm around his psychic presence and meld it to his being, making him unnaturally complacent. You’d assume someone would resist when they kidnapped you - but this one, after your sorcery, is as limp as a bag of potatoes.

You can see Snek shudder a few metres away from you and on your face you feel a cold, brisk wind. The more you draw the more of the eldritch energy is lost to inefficiency - you wonder what would happen if you just opened a ‘hole’, so to speak, and let it flow out in the material plane.

No time for thoughts, though, you realize as your men sprint across the street again, just as fast as they did the first time, and you and your men jog through the alley into another street, quickly venturing into yet another side alley as to avoid attention.

When you try to cross a street, 10 minutes afterwards, you’re interrupted, however, by a loud voice and a exponentially louder engine.

“Who the fuck are you?”


Thank you for participating in tonights session of Rogue Psyker. I humbly suggest following me on twitter if you enjoyed this, as that will make it easier to schedule participation and such.

This: @CatachanonQM is my twitter ID. Expect a session tomorrow, but check my twitter in order to be really sure. Eitherway, I’ve had fun tonight even though there was a few lapses between votes.

Night!

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>>1647923
I'm killing this quest. Sorry for y'all that actually enjoyed it - but I dug myself into a corner plotwise, characterwise etc.

Anyways, I'll probably still do quests, if it strikes my fancy, and I'll use this failure as a lesson for future quests.

Mortician, please be mild on me on Friday.