Life and Death in the M41st Quest

You are officer Fallcastle and this is your first day on the Job. Or it will be once the lights turn on signaling a new day cycle. You have been nerve-wrecked ever since Bosun Prim has given the news of your promotion alongside your new pristine clean uniform. To serve on the bridge is worlds apart from the degrading manual labor you were used to at the bowels of the Rosa, and worlds apart from that is an actual ranking among the officers present! But before you can dive too deep into your thoughts (again) the lights flicker on slowly building up to a blinding and artificial brightness. Restless, you get up.

You wash your face in the common’s sink alongside the others. They eye you with varying degrees of envious resentment and you don’t judge them for it. If not for your ‘dont-fuck-with-me’ face and larger than average build you would surely have been stuffed under a coolant cable somewhere, all your new and shiny brass stolen from your beaten body. The living conditions on the Arma Et Rosa are abysmal at best for anyone not of noble-birth or high standing among the Command cradle and until yesterday you certainly filled that bill.

Counting your blessings you focus on removing the grime and exhaust soot that has accumulated on your skin with the passing of days. It wouldn’t do to show up looking like a sewer rat on the first day, albeit that is what you are.

After the wake-up cleaning you return to your bunk, least you tempt fate any further. There is just so many people you can placate with an evil eye alone.

Inside you make inventory of your meager possessions.

>an old cord bag
>a picture from your childhood
>a lho-pack with a lighter, no sticks left
>a revolver and a holster
>a new sabre sidearm
>two sets of clean underwear
>a new set of officer uniforms
>a not-so-new set of laborer trousers and matching overalls
>a bone comb
>your ring
>about 23 Ixaniad creds, worth 5 something in Calixis

In the nude, at the edge of your bunk, you ponder about how you should go about this. You still have plenty of time, so there is no rush to be updecks.

>look at the picture and reminisce about your upbringing and how far you have come (choose any homeworld or roll a d10)
>clean your weapons. The repetitive mindless motor function will calm you down.
>don your new uniform and practice your walk, your posture and your speech. Gotta look proper sooner or later.
>you really could do with a smoke. Maybe you should bank in that favor with Rat and get a new pack. You are broke otherwise
>shadowbox a little and then spar with your shadow to get acquainted with your sword
>breath in, stop pussyfooting and get to work sooner in an attempt to impress the higher brass
>other (write in)
You can choose more than one or combine them however you wish.

>>86672
>look at the picture and reminisce about your upbringing and how far you have come from Kronus
>don your new uniform and practice your walk, your posture, and your speech. Gotta look proper sooner or later.

>>86672
>Put on uniform
>Get straight to work

We must remain ever diligent for the Emperor.

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http://pastebin.com/yVAJUiZy
Here is character sheet (don't worry about it too much), and a small sketch of forementioned picture.
I will work more on it later.

>>86822
>>87064
For now let's do all of these.

>>87165
Noice work, though.

You pick up your only memento from your past life. You grew around a bubbling hive in the developing planet of Kronus. It was never an easy life, you and your folks worked day and night tending to hydroponics and moving crates full of grains to be sent to the spires. Still you remember your peeps with fondness. Your Da was so proud the day you were selected in the lottery to join the chartist fleets, but Ma was heartbroken. She never came to say goodbye, but Pa gave you his old revolver as parting gift at the spaceport’s gate. To ‘keep you out of trouble’ he said. You always valued his advice, even ten something years later (hard to tell inside a voidship).

Your peeps were among the first families to settle in the new colony of Kronus after it was reclaimed for His glory. They weren’t too pious or anything, but you assumed they meant well. You also noticed very early on how you looked so different from your folks and your extended family. You didn’t care, and they never spoke of it. It is possible they might be gone by now, what with you travelling to the other side of the Throne damned galaxy, so it is not like you will ever get to ask.

“Enough sap. Time to work.” You get up.

>cont

++++

You gained +5 T from working on the farms all day.

>>87454
From the looks of it the uniform fits you almost perfectly. There is always that small discomfort familiar to these ‘one size fits all’ uniforms, but you shrug it off and get on with it. You strap your gun with the holster and holds your blade awkwardly, putting everything else in the old bag and tie it to your belt.

All in all, you don’t look half-bad. You certainly have the build for it, but your posture is all wrong. You try saying some lines in front of your shadow, but it sounds hollow and faked out. Soon you give up, learning more what not to do than anything of use, and head out for the lifts. The corridors are always crowded and the sight of your uniforms makes you feel unease. Thankfully, the lifts are about to arrive when you join the others so they don’t get much of a chance to pay you heed.

The doors to the lift hiss with the telltale smell of spoiled cog lubricant and stale coolants that is common in these things. Deckers were never too keen on pestering the Admech about the state of disrepair of the lower decks and they never have been one to care too much about mook life-quality improvements, so the lifts remain working with bare minimum maintenance. You shrug and step in with a dozen others, all of which openly eye you with a mixture of veiled disgust and curiosity.

On the second stop the crowd disperses somewhat. You breath in relief as the tension in the ambient lowers considerably, but you sigh too soon. As you look forward you see Luther walking up to you with his mooks in tow, one of which you beat at Rat’s behest not two days ago. If they catch sight of you you might as well turn around and bend over because you are fucked.

++++

You gained +5 Fel for trying to look presentable

++++

>Get out of the lift with the crowd and hide among them. It will take longer, but might be safer

>Stay inside and pretend to be part of the fixture, maybe Luther and his people has gone blind

>Confront Luther directly. You are a ranking officer now, he better not touch you or you will have the Commissar hunt him down

>Other (write in)

>>87528
>Stand your ground and ignore them
Can't have a weak spine.
Though, they might beat our ass.

>>87610
Seems we are in a two man ship, mate.

Will still accept input for five more minutes.

>>87781
I wonder what happen to the other Anon? This needs more people. I like it so far.

>>87528
>>Stand your ground and ignore them

>>87610
>>87838
Well, now you missed your window of escape, so might as well do it like a man. They are four in total and approaching quickly. There are fewer people inside now and most wouldn’t bat an eye if you were to be beaten to death here and now. To make matters worse they are much more than you can handle by your lonely self, so you hope they have gone blind and try your darnest to look unassuming. It doesn’t fly.

“Well lookit here, boys! Ain’t this a funny place to find grox shit? Wearing silver, no less.” They spot you almost immediately and corner your without fail. Even poor Bertrand there, whose face you caved, is looking dangerously sharp. “Who did ya suck off for that getup, ya piss stained fuck?”

“Can it Luther. I’m going to see the brass. If you have a gripe, go talk to Prim Kali.” You try your hardest to keep your cool, but you are sweating like a pig already.

This only elicit laughter from Luther and his posse. His breath smell rancid and his spit falls in your mouth. You are this close to socking his gob when Bertrand interrupts you.

“Hey Luther, checkout that. He has an officer’s sword!” Ah, so someone saw it. You were hoping you could have gone without the trouble. No hiding it now, only officers carry that shit-stick around.

“Maybe we shouldn’t do this here, Luther. What if he is with the brass?” pips in a third you don’t recognize.

“Oh, shut it, ya coward.” Now Luther is practically kissing you. “I don’t give two flying Sororitas on a pogo stick to your get-up, bitch boy. Yar friend Rat messed with my fold, now I will mess yar face, ya hear?”

No getting out of this, you gotta think fast.

++++

Gain +5 Will for standing up

++++

>Draw your pistol on Luther. It might slow them just enough, but then again braver people than you died for less. Your sword, tho, is too much of a shit-stick to do anything

>”Wait, Rat? What you talking about, Luther? I haven’t seen Rat ever since I caught Bertrand trying to get funky with her pants.” Not true, but they don’t know that.

>Swallow your pride and take that beating like the bitch boy you are

>Scream for help and become the biggest bitch boy on deck

>other (write in)

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>>88054
Forgot Luther's face.

>>87813
It's fine. I like a tight crew.

>>88054
>>Draw your pistol on Luther. It might slow them just enough, but then again braver people than you died for less. Your sword, tho, is too much of a shit-stick to do anything

>>88054
>”Wait, Rat? What you talking about, Luther? I haven’t seen Rat ever since I caught Bertrand trying to get funky with her pants.” Not true, but they don’t know that.
We can be a bitch boy to the higher ups but not to them.

I'm goin somewhere so I might late replying. I might return if there's wifi. I like this quest. Hope you continue.

>>88169
I will try, matey. Really glad you like it.

>>88137
>>88150
Let's do these two together. Will wait 5 minutes if someone else wants to chip in and then I will reply.

>>88054
>”Wait, Rat? What you talking about, Luther? I haven’t seen Rat ever since I caught Bertrand trying to get funky with her pants.” Not true, but they don’t know that.

>>88054
>>”Wait, Rat? What you talking about, Luther? I haven’t seen Rat ever since I caught Bertrand trying to get funky with her pants.” Not true, but they don’t know that.
Let's try and not bloody our sword before meeting the brass.

>>88313
>>88150
>>88137
>>88399

For once in your life you are actually fast on the draw and before anyone can respond you have your revolver poking under Luther’s ribs. His face goes on a railroad of emotions; first surprise, then fear, anger and then it ends in something between all of the above.

“Ok, Luther, you want to dance? I will hold your hand then.” The others have stepped back. A shot from a stub ain’t no Bolter round to the head but it will kill you dead all the same if you shoot it at someone’s lungs. “Now that everyone is calm, let’s talk shop. First off, I haven’t talked to Rat ever since I caught Bertrand getting funky with her pants, alright? I don’t know what you are spewing about.”

This seems to put more curiosity and surprised into Luther’s face. “Ya fibbing me” he says under his breath.

Well. Are you?

++++

Gain +5 WS and +5 BS for being a slick gunslinger for the first time

Gain +5 willpower for being cool

++++

>Try fibbing Luther (1d100 vs 55)

>Fuck fibbing, tell Luther the truth about how Rat slept in your bunk the day before but disappeared by morning. (1d100 vs 65)

>The lift should be up anytime now. Pistol whip the decker in the temple and run for it (1d100 vs 50)

>Fuck this, fuck Luther. Pull the trigger

>Other (write in)

>>88427
>Try fibbing Luther (1d100 vs 55)

>>88427
>Fuck this, fuck Luther. Pull the trigger

>>88427
>Try fibbing Luther (1d100 vs 55)

>>88522
>>88463
Ok, let's get the dice rolling.

1d100 against a target of 55.
We have three chances at succeeding it since Fallcastle has 2 Fate Points.

Rolled 43 (1d100)

>>88597
inb4 100

>>88644
That's a pass. Writting it up.

Rolled 73 (1d100)

>>88597
Rolls

You try for a better lie but all you can think of was how Rat came to you two days ago looking the worse for wear you have ever seen her. So you improvise and hope it is enough.

“It is true Luther. I haven’t crossed with her or even heard of her up until you brought the name up.” You attempt a step back and disentangle yourself from Luther’s fists reach. He seems to be thinking, so you press on. “If you got any hang up with Rat you will have to dig her usual hidey holes. My guess is as good as yours.”

A long moment pass as Luther mouths something inaudible to himself before addressing you again, still furious at you and something else, but mostly at something else. “Baxter said he saw here on your deck.”

“It is a big deck, Luther. Hundreds live there, a dozen of which had deals with Rat.” Now you have this under control, you go for your usual acidity. “And Baxter is a cheat and a liar.”

This gets a prompt of meek laughter from the others. We all know how Baxter lost his entire savings after getting caught cheating. Twice now. On this week. Deckers like to laugh at the misfortune of each other, for there is very little mirth in the life of a rating.

It is not long before you all are startled by the chime of warning that the lift has finished its trudging climb. Bertrand is the first to break the awkward silence that follows. “Hey, Luther, we have to get off. Forget Fallcastle or the taskmaster will have our hide, man.” This gets a foul look from Luther. He never did respect authority, but he soon relents and walks away from you and your revolver.

“Just because you ran out of time today doesn’t mean this is over, piss stain.” Before the doors close again he shouts one last time for you. “Watch your back, bitch boy.”

All you have time to do is lower your pistol and blow him a kiss.

That was close. What now? That was your stop too.

++++

Get +5 Fel for fibbing
Get +5 WP for keeping your head

++++

>Get out on the next deck and try to find another way to the bridge, might be late or might get lost

>Wait for the lift to get back on this level. You still have time

>Let’s do something crazy. Open the hatch and climb back to your stop. Luther is long gone now, and adrenaline hoooo!

>Fuck that, fuck this, you need a smoke right now. Try buying from someone on the lift

>Other (write in)

>>88915
>>Let’s do something crazy. Open the hatch and climb back to your stop. Luther is long gone now, and adrenaline hoooo!

>>88915
>Get out on the next deck and try to find another way to the bridge, might be late or might get lost

>>88915
>Wait for the lift to get back on this level. You still have time

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>>88954
>>88955
>>88962
Hesus of hazareth. Dhat timed dhree way tie, dho.

I will wait 10 minutes for a tie breaker than toss a three sided coin or something.

>>88915
>Get out on the next deck and try to find another way to the bridge, might be late or might get lost
don't wanna piss off our new boss

>>88955
>>89018
>Literally picking the late option
>don't want to piss off our boss.
My god t the stupidity.

>>88955
>>89018
also this is a samefag, same ID and everything.

>>89075
you change your choice.

Rolled 1 (1d3)

Well, it is still a three way tie.

Let the dice gods decide. 1, 2, 3 from the top down.

>>89205
Something crazy it is.

You can’t be late. Prim Kali is probably already waiting you there by now and you are here mudding around in the slowest lift in the whole Imperium. If you know something about the brass is that of all of them Bosun Prim is the one with the highest executions counter on the entire ship. The Commissar’s doesn’t even compare. That’s not someone you leave waiting when you are a nobody decker. So the quick get-out it is. You have done this before, but never this high up.

You clench and go to work on the manhole. A few passengers give you an exasperated look. They aren’t experienced ratings, you can tell from how clean their hair is. Yours is more like an old oily sponge by now. Still you pay them no heed and jump down into the motors. Nothing much to see here aside from Fred the Servitor. You used to hang out with Fred before his head had a close encounter with an open plasma conduit. Now you only know it’s Fred because it is the servitor on lift B. That and his horrendous attempt at a tattoo in his shoulder. Still, you are just passing through. You tap Fred on the tattoo, which makes the servitor sound annoyed for a moment and then you lip down to the stairs under the lift.

As you are stepping down you accidentally kick a light-ball that was affixed here by someone. You freeze. For the longest time you only hear it falling down until it crashes down hard. Then your blood turn to slush as you hear a bone-chilling scream from down below.

Holy Emperor on a trolley cart, did you just hit someone? Oh shit, are they dead? Maybe you should go down to check. It is a long way down, about 200 meters. But then again, this walkways and internal channels are full of cogboys, surely they will be alright, whoever they are. Right?

… Right?

++++

Get +5 Agi and str for climbing like a spidermonkey

++++

>”Shit!” Go down and check on the hapless chap

>Fuck this, you were never here. Go back to the lift and ride it up to the next Deck

>Let’s get down on our stop. They will be fine. Maybe

>Other (write in)

>>89412
Call in a possible collision hazard on the lifts, then proceed to our boss.

>>89412
>Fuck this, you were never here. Go back to the lift and ride it up to the next Deck

>>89435
Supporting.

You gotta tell someone there was accident on lift B. Shit! What are you gonna tell them?! You are a good fibber, but fibbing won’t cut the jib if the Commissar gets to chit-chat with you. Hell, how even are you gonna get the message about, you ain’t no brass yet, you ain’t got a fucking comm line. Ok, time to calm down. Breath. In and out. You are hanging vertically from a stairway above a 200 meter drop. This isn’t the time to be freaking out.

First, let’s get out and get a message to the chain. ‘Excuses are the pastime of the wicked’, your Pa used to say.

Slowly you get out on your stop. No sign of Luther, as expected, but no sign of no one else either. Something is wrong. These lift corridors are never empty, no matter the hour. Still, you press on and open a vox-box with direct channel to the cogs. They answer in a monotone that is common of the Admech, but it still gets you offguard. He sounds angry, almost accusingly so.

++++

This time you only got a bonechilling fear down your spine. You never killed anyone, man... rough up, sure, even shot a decker or two, but never really did it in yourself. +5 insanity

++++

>What you say to the Vox operator?
Let’s try an open prompt this time.

>>89621
>What you say to the Vox operator?
there has been an accident on lift B. Someone might be critically injured.

>>89621
There was a light ball failure on (location x). Someone might have fallen and may be critically injured. In no position to follow. Be advised.

>>89644
>>89661
Writan

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Given that the Admech aren’t exactly sharp in social dealings, you make something up real fast and feed it to him. “There was an accident on lift B man. Something fell, a light-ball or whatever. Someone is injured, please have someone check it.”

The raspy voice sounds less annoyed than before, but it is still a long shot from a ray of sunshine. ++This unit is from Deck 15, lift B ends on Deck 40. How do you know of this accident?++ Of all of the cogboys in the ship you were left with the one with a quick wit. Curse the fool, you don’t have time for this.

“Look, man, I am only calling to warn of the accident. You either get it done or don’t, but it’s off my back. Have a nice day, ok?” As you are about to hang up he says something else, but you didn’t quite made it out. Something about a... unity on deck 14? Whatever that is it doesn’t matter, you are headed upper above to the Bridge.

As you leg it the corridors pass through you like wind. You notice many stations are empty and the ones that aren’t aren’t operational. This is either a communal smoke break (not unheard of in the bowels), or you are really forgetting something.

As you turn around lift F you see a pair of heavy closed doors. Not only in wait, actually melted shut. The hell. Must be maintenance.

As you walk you see lift H is also out of it, but not fused. Still it leaves only the stairs. Welp. It is 70 something meters, so if you are going to make it in time you better run now or get creative.

++++

Get another +5 in Fel for fibbing again
And +5 in percep for almost becoming a better listener.

++++

>Get creative. Pull someone up from a station and inquire about the stop-up and if lift H is on time

>Get MORE creative. You know how some of these controls work, you bet you can rewire lift H’s doors to open. Still a mighty climb, but a quicker one

>Get a legging. A hundred thousand steps of stairs ain’t gonna climb themselves

>Other (write in)

>>89923
>Get MORE creative. You know how some of these controls work, you bet you can rewire lift H’s doors to open. Still a mighty climb, but a quicker one

>>89923
>Get MORE creative. You know how some of these controls work, you bet you can rewire lift H’s doors to open. Still a mighty climb, but a quicker one

>>89923
>Get MORE creative. You know how some of these controls work, you bet you can rewire lift H’s doors to open. Still a mighty climb, but a quicker one

>>89923
>>Get MORE creative. You know how some of these controls work, you bet you can rewire lift H’s doors to open. Still a mighty climb, but a quicker one

You might get a talking down later for this, but creativity fuck yes. You kick the panel door until the hinge falls off and check out the wires. Oh this is child’s play. You cross the the output of energy with the input of signal aaand...


There is a loud chime and the doors slowly crawl open. Hey! Lucky day, the lift is actually here. You step inside and pull its activation lever. It hums to life with much less of a discharge of foul-smelling vapors and airs. The higher you go on a lift the higher you go on life apparently. Up here even the lifts are somewhat clean. Moments before the doors close you hear a scream of warning coming from outside. You gather someone is trying to tell you something.

++++

Have a +5 int for that creative thinking
Gain skill Tech-Use... just don’t tell the tech-priest

++++

>Try listening to the person who is shouting. You never know, might not be complete bs this time

>Pull the lever in reverse and let the decker in. It will cost some time, but this would be your good deed of the day

>Scream back that he can only get in if he gives you a lho. Seriously, you really need a smoke

>lalalalala not listening, go fuck yourself lalalala

>other (write in)

>>90127
>Try listening to the person who is shouting. You never know, might not be complete bs this time

>>90127
>Try listening to the person who is shouting. You never know, might not be complete bs this time
this chargen?

>>90127
>Try listening to the person who is shouting. You never know, might not be complete bs this time

>>90136
>>90145
>>90152
Are you guys part of a hive mind? Should I be worried?

Also, how is the quest going? Any advice or suggestion or something you have liked? By now I am making this up as I go and it's really showing at least for me.

Also, writing

>>90169
Well it's interesting, although I wonder how long we'll be getting +s for.

Usually we want a character with a determined role and specialty.

>>90169
i don't think i'm part of a hve mind, but you are doing a great job so far.

You perk your ears and try to make out the person’s voice over the thudding noise of the huge chains rolling past your head.

You can make out most of it. ‘Sir, come back,’ you understood fine. To be called Sir by someone makes you feel more important than you ever have. The uniform really makes the man it seems. Then the person goes on a blunder of tirades about shootings and weapons and something about that unity again, but now you have gone too far and it is all drowned by the sound of the motors. ‘Cross a bridge when you get to it’ your father used to say, so you are nonchalant about it all and try to relax. You REALLY could do with a smoke right now.

You have some minutes to kill. Should you do something before you arrive?

++++

Have a +5 per for that respectful listening

++++

>Well, might as well kill some time. Let’s play around with the lighter. Been awhile since you done some legerdemain

>Clean your weapons, you heard it calms down the nerves

>Well, for Terra’s sake, look all these stains on your new uniform. Your whites are all yellowish brown and your pinks are almost red. Let’s try and clean this up while we can

>other (write in)

>>90286
>Well, for Terra’s sake, look all these stains on your new uniform. Your whites are all yellowish brown and your pinks are almost red. Let’s try and clean this up while we can

>>90187
Oh, not for long. It's just part me testing the waters, part dynamic character creation

>>90189
Thanks for the imput, mate, much appreciated

>>90286
>>Well, for Terra’s sake, look all these stains on your new uniform. Your whites are all yellowish brown and your pinks are almost red. Let’s try and clean this up while we can

>>90286
>Well, for Terra’s sake, look all these stains on your new uniform. Your whites are all yellowish brown and your pinks are almost red. Let’s try and clean this up while we can

This won’t cut the level of clean the brass want. Still, there is very little you can do on the lift short of undressing and scrubing it with your hands to try and remove the stains. But, as your Pa used to say, desperate times ask for desperate measures. As you are halfway removing some of the grime on your trousers you hear the chime pipe in. Wait a second, this isn’t Deck 1. You are woefully unprepared for what comes next. First thing you notice is, as the doors open painfully slow, the twenty or so voidsmen outside holding lasguns looking as flabergast as you are feeling. Then you notice none of their helmets, armor or weapons have the Imperial aquilla on them. With growing eyes you realize the word both the admech and the clerk at Deck 15 were trying to yell at you. Mutiny, not unity. FUCKING MUTINY.

And no shit, here you are, semi-naked in an otherwise unoperational lift holding a pair of officer trousers with both your holster and sabre lying on the floor across from you.

You can only do so much before they take aim at you, so you have to use the next seconds of your life wisely.

>Jump for your holster and your sidearm. You are no master gunslinger but you bet your ass you can shoot before they do, and their cover is facing the wrong way too

>Roll back and crawl into the service access to the motors. The grate won’t protect you, but the machines inside are better cover than the trousers you are holding

>Jump back into the massive chains that pull the lift and kick the activation lever. It will give them several seconds of aim at your exposed skin but then you will be riding the chains up and the lift will be between you two

>Raise your arms, surrender, ask for mercy. Bitch boy powers, activate

>Other (write in)

>>90487
>Jump for your holster and your sidearm. You are no master gunslinger but you bet your ass you can shoot before they do, and their cover is facing the wrong way too

>>90487
>Jump back into the massive chains that pull the lift and kick the activation lever. It will give them several seconds of aim at your exposed skin but then you will be riding the chains up and the lift will be between you two

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>>90506
>>90523

>>90487
>>90506
>>90523
both

>>90534
>>90561
Both? Both it is.

Not enough time to think. You run forward and dive for your holster. The grates greet your naked chest with painful attrition, but you give no head to it as you level your pistol up and hammer the trigger as fast as you can.

It is only by sheer luck that of the fifteen plus shots aimed above your head only five of them actually follow your body. As your barrage of stubber fire flies out of your revolver, one punch at a time, you are greeted with one single scream of pain from your assailants. Not bad you think to yourself as you try to roll out of the way of the incoming fire, just barely remembering to kick the lever back into upwards.

Now that you had the surprise action and answered them with violence, the 20 or so voidsmen aim their lasguns at you as well as they can. You either land this jump or you can say goodbye to your days as a not barbecue roast.

++++

It is a +5 agi and BS for that stunt, space cowboy, and the Dodge skill

++++

>Rolling dice, 1d100 against a target of 20
Remember I will take the first success of three and even if you fail there is still the possibility of burning Fate to gandalf out of this mess

Rolled 15 (1d100)

>>90719
Rolls

Rolled 97 (1d100)

>>90719

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>>90740
huh.

/qst/ rolls better than /tg/...

>>9075
Welp
statement retracted

>>90773
eeey ate a number there. Sorry frognazi.

This is your first rodeo, sure, but you are no damsel in distress either. With a closing window of time you make the best out of it as you jump into the chains when they begin moving. A dozen las-shots fly wild about you, the air crackling with the smell of ozone and the tell-tale sound of heat and electromagnetic discharging on the metallic plates of the ship. The jump itself is a success, you strike with feet first on the giant plasteel links and scramble behind them.

You grip with all your might as shot after shot after shot hits all around you for what seems to be an eternity and just as you were thinking you couldn’t take this anymore the sound of the doors closing preseed your breaths of relief. Only now you noticed you had your eyes closed and you feel somewhat lightheaded as you open them. There is a lot of scorch marks around you, but you are grateful nothing happened.

As you step down from the huge chain link something under you gives no leverage as if you had finished a flight of stairs but thought there was an extra step that was not there and you begin to fall forward, face first. As you reach behind to hold yourself you hear a wet crunching and snapping noise, but what hits you first is the smell. Bone marrow melted and boiled spits on your face as you continue your descent and you observe your hand become more distant, now completely dislodged from the bloodied mess of a stump that is your left arm. What?

The grates meet your head full force, but it barely feels anything. As you look down you see a charred mark on your stomach and the grizzly still sizzling chunk of flesh that was your left leg.

>“What? When did this happen? Haha” Try to get up

>”Stay down, you are still stunned, boy...”

>You can feel the ichor from inside your left arm still boiling. You can also feel the burning where your leg was. But then why is it so cold

>Other (write it in, while you can)

>>90947
What? Why? We met Dc easily why'd we get hurt?

>kill self
Since we're dead anyways

>>90947
>”Stay down, you are still stunned, boy...”

>>90961
You are not dead yet. And true, you met DC to dodge 16 shots, of which you did dodge 6, 7 missed and 3 hit (two 9s and a 12)
They rolled 7+3, 10+3 and 9+3 for damage, belly, left arm and left leg, respectively.

Sadly you had no armor and little cover (only 2 AP) to absorb those shots.

>>91005
So we should be dead. Kill us then. We have 11 wounds, we just took 8 +11+ 10 for a total of 29. We're deader than dead.

>>91027
It is -5 per each shot (2ap cover 3 Thoughness bonus) so only 20 damage. You have -9 on the critical damage chart.

But you are at risk of dying. I will explain next write in.

>>91036
Realistically if this is 40k, we're dead no matter what. If a mutineer finds, us instant execution. If someone loyal finds us, we get mercy killed or turned into a servitor. We're a scrub officer on a navy ship, we're not important enough to waste cybernetics on, much less anything else, and without an arm, leg or torso we are useless except as corpse starch or servitor parts.

”Stay down, you are still stunned, boy...”

You try to stand up, but your arms give up. “Damn it old man, how are you so good at this?” You are infuriatingly unprepared to deal with how good at sparring your old man is. Seriously, he is what, a 100 years old? Cmon!

“Now stay down a bit, breath and then come back at me full force, ok?” You do as you are told. The grass under you feel alright. Your farm is the few ones on the entire planet that still produce normally grown vegetables, something your Ma never lets you forget. You take a bit of pride in it, even if only a little bit. “Now enough resting, get up boy! I will whip you into a proper trooper yet.”

You reflexively reach down with your left arm, but then the pain hits you like a truck and you remember where you are. How you are. It hurts, it hurt so much it is almost unbearable. It wouldn’t be the worst thing to just... let go of it. Join His Light and all that jazz. That sounds quite appealing right about now. You never quite the got the pious type about you, but perhaps would be a good time to pray.

>Pray (write in) (Roll 1d100 vs 35)

>Just try to let go, you done enough you think (Roll 1d100 vs 35)

>Breath in, don’t give up now. Gotta get to your meeting, man, gotta meet the brass. You finally got a promotion, something that is fuckign unheard of! Cmom, don’t die here (Roll 1d100 vs 45)

>Other (write in) (Still, roll 1d100 vs 35)

Rolled 27 (1d100)

>>91158
>Just try to let go, you done enough you think (Roll 1d100 vs 35)

Rolled 11 (1d100)

>>91158
>Breath in, don’t give up now. Gotta get to your meeting, man, gotta meet the brass. You finally got a promotion, something that is fuckign unheard of! Cmom, don’t die here (Roll 1d100 vs 45)

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>91158
Apply gun to head, pull trigger

>>91168
>>91173
>>91183
Be back in 10 minutes. Gotta grab a bite. Still, tell you all something, I will do all suggestions.

>>91212
>I will do all suggestions.
Meaning?

>>91158
>>91183
backing

Your last thought before the darkness takes you is a quip from your father that day your girlfriend dumped you for that other guy. You don’t even remember their names anymore, but at the time it seemed to you the world had come to an end. Still, your Pa showed up as certain as the day rises, at 0600 on point and with that fucking smile of his like he was a benevolent saint from a Shrine World he would say: “The Emperor Above isn’t done with you until He comes down here and tell you so, boy. And neither am I. Now get up and get to work.”

It hurts so fucking much. So much, so much, you don’t know when you began crying or how long has it been. You are still laying there on your face, so it must haven’t been that long. You are suffering occasional blackouts. You can’t close your eyes, if you sleep you know you are done for.

There must be a way to get out of this if you only where to reach the lever- Oh God Emperor, please no, the pain. You won’t be trying that again so soon. Your brow is dripping with sweat. Maybe you have a fever? If your wounds festered you would surely be done for. There is a moment of silence before you realize you were not breathing, then your chest heaves up and down, and the pain is blindingly sharp.

You take some time to recognize the sound of your own laughter against the grates. “Really?” you ask from between your teeth. “Is this not enough for You? What do you want from me? I am dead! Let me die, you asshole! It is hurting so much, please make it stop. I am done with this, with your shit, with your ‘plans’. I want no part of it, you hear?”

You began shouting with all your might somewhere down the line, but still the pain remains and death does not come to do you a mercy. You know your situation full well. There is no tomorrow for your case. As such you find yourself eyeing the pistol just outside the reach of your right arm. If you could just... a little bit more...

>Roll 1d100 against 60, best of three, to grab that gun and pull the trigger against your temple. You didn’t do Luther the favor, but you aren’t so kind to yourself, never was

>>91295
Bet you won't like this part then.

Rolled 81 (1d100)

>>91330

Rolled 64 (1d100)

>>91330
End this farce. Fucking you dodge but not really and now you're dead or might as well be bullshit.

Rolled 33 (1d100)

>>91330

>>91330
>Bet you won't like this part then.
Why? I honestly stopped caring after we made dc and got crippled for life( which would not last long at all). Honestly the quest is pointless now.

The gun is there, you faintly feel the cold of the metal against your temple. You tried three times before you finally managed to put it squarely against your cranium. You close your eyes and pull the trigger, but nothing happens. You pull again, and nothing happens. Again and again but there is no bang, no bullet, no shot, no death. You shot six bullets at the mutineers and revolvers only have six of them to begin with. You have no extras either. Never shot more than once or twice a month in your lifetime, and now you find yourself out of bullets to shoot the only person you ever meant to kill.

As you start fully bawling you hear the chime of the lift ding on. This is your stop. Welcome to your new job, Ranking Officer Fallcastle.

>>91347
>>91361
>>91363
Before I continue, and believe me this is not over, but also not over in the way you think it isn't (bluh), I want to be more transparent with you all.

First, let me apologize for my misbehaviour, I am trying to do this by the books, but I really wasn't as transparent on that dodge roll and with the choices as I were hoping to be. From now on all choices will have possible consequences in [brackets[ so I can make more sense out of myself. This is NOT how envisioned this to go, and I feel I betrayed you all when I started doing all those fucky combat rolls from RT under the table. Tell you all what, if you stick with me I promise such shit will not fly again. I will try rolling all dices on the open now too.

>>91428
I am so sorry man, I should have really been more transparent about that. I am trying to find my balance here and it is hard. First time and all. In all honesty that roll saved your lives in earnest. You dodged 6 hits, which would have been far more damage than a man can take, I also rolled absurdly high damage. I was expecting a bruise or some such... serves me right I guess.


Still, I want to make this right and I shall now present the other two characters aside from Fallcastle that are part of this dance macabre. Again, I am sorry for all this shit, first time mistakes and all.

>>91475
im down

>>91475
Fine, but having us bushwhacked from the start basically kills player investment. What's the point when the qm kills you off within chargen? If you're keeping the same system where dice rule all and we are solo against a fucking mob with a pistol or anything short of a heavy automatic while in full armor, it's going to be irrelevant. Quests need more sponge and flexibility than table top or forum games. The mc is alone, no allies, no back up, no other pc to pick up the slack. 40k games are fucked enough without some poor stupid nobody trying to solo, which unless you're a SM is death.

File: mLaoV6h.gif (574KB, 400x222px) Image search: [Google]

574KB, 400x222px

>>91485
Thanks *sniff*

>>91518
That's rightly what I was sizing, cause vs consequence. Won't happen again, man.

As lift H finally reaches Deck 1 there is a chime sound. The plates up here are white-clean and there isn't a single exposed cable or coolant pipe. There is also the small detail that almost everyone in a 100 meters block is now mobilized for battle, holding up guns and decking flak. You really don't want any part of that. You... you are...

>You are Rat. You never had anyone that had your back and you pretty much made everything you have. Had. Fuck. You can’t believe this is happening to you…
>You are good at stealing shit, talking yourself out of situations and hiding. You also have a las-pistol you hijacked from a guy earlier today. Is fine, he ain’t needing it anymore.

>You are Pia Maria. You are a proper and dignified woman from the minor House of Semantis. You work on the bridge of the Arma Et Rosa as Master of Etherics. The indignity!
>You are good at doing your hair and dressing properly by the latest fashions in the Ixaniad Sector, not that no one cares. You are also adept at Technoarcanism and know your way around a fencing sword pretty well.

>>91616
>You are Pia Maria. You are a proper and dignified woman from the minor House of Semantis. You work on the bridge of the Arma Et Rosa as Master of Etherics. The indignity!
>You are good at doing your hair and dressing properly by the latest fashions in the Ixaniad Sector, not that no one cares. You are also adept at Technoarcanism and know your way around a fencing sword pretty well.


makes sense for her

>>91616
>You are Rat. You never had anyone that had your back and you pretty much made everything you have. Had. Fuck. You can’t believe this is happening to you…
>You are good at stealing shit, talking yourself out of situations and hiding. You also have a las-pistol you hijacked from a guy earlier today. Is fine, he ain’t needing it anymore.

I will wait 5 minutes to see if there is another vote and then I will toss a coin.

Rolled 2 (1d2)

>>91659
There is not gonna be another vote...

1 pia, 2 rat

You are Rat and you thought it would be a good idea to hide in the upper Decks while Luther fails to sniff your trail. Too bad it had to be the day the entire ship went bananas to the walls. You were just telling these fine gentlemen at bridge that there was no need to send you back (after you convinced them to send you back instead of executing on the spot as a traitor), after all you have two fine legs and you can just scurry back whence you came. Not that you will, but they don’t know that.

“Get in. Now.” Tall and handsome 1 pushes you with the butt of his naval pistol, which only manages to hit your head and send you flying to the floor. Tall and handsome 2 then proceeds to laugh at your expenses. They always do, don’t they? But it is all fine, you like when they laugh. They don’t look at their belts when they are laughing.

As you stand up, your newly acquire loot in tow an idea hits you.

>Tall and handsome 1 and 2 might want their Frag back, we should be a good dame and throw it back. Without its pin, of course, you grew quite attached to that pin

>You know what, let them laugh, I will just scurry to the thronedamned lift that is easier to crack open than a nut in a rodent shop

>Bring back memories from the time when you were younger and that bitch used to slap you on the back of your head

>Other (write in)

>>91731
>You know what, let them laugh, I will just scurry to the thronedamned lift that is easier to crack open than a nut in a rodent shop
>Bring back memories from the time when you were younger and that bitch used to slap you on the back of your head

>>91743
Why? All it'd do is bring more guards after us and we'd lose a frag we'd need for later.

>>91731
>You know what, let them laugh, I will just scurry to the thronedamned lift that is easier to crack open than a nut in a rodent shop

This time I was prepared to do all three, but let's just walk then.

You drive those dirty murderous thoughts out of your head. Bad Rat, no killing the good people that will die a bloody death anyways. All you can do is hold your own mirth as T&H 1 and 2 turn around to the closed doors. Such a good window. Alas, you are a grenade richer for it. You carefully stow it back inside your duffel bag. Which gives you enough time to count your inventory.

>Las Pistol
>Bag itself
>Pack of Lhos
>Frag
>Rusty knife
>lockpick
>dataslate (you couldn’t crack it)
>about 3000 creds on a credstick

Not counting the rags you wear and your bootknife that is all she wrote. You are so fucking poor again, it almost makes you lose heart. The memories come rushing from a time you had nothing aside that which the bitch gave you and it is bitter memory indeed. The beaches and palm-trees of Palasia were tourist attractions and beautiful fixtures for a pleasure world, but to you they were merely bars on a prison cell. No one likes a ratling, no one will ever like the daughter of one. Cunts.

You are pulled out from your sour childhood memories by the strong smell of burned flesh. Fuck, it reeks in here. As you gaze around for the first time you see a lot of shit that you overlooked to begin with. There is a huge blood splatter close to the activation lever and something shining under the grates. Did those brutes get in here, last you heard the lift just began functioning after the voidsmen cleaned the corridors of the upper decks.

>Might be worthwhile to go check that shine on the motors, but you never know who could be hiding in there. Take your pistol out

>You are a greedy little lass, but you ain’t about scaring some poor decker to death, keep the pistol down

>other (write in)

>>91814
>Might be worthwhile to go check that shine on the motors, but you never know who could be hiding in there. Take your pistol out

>>91814
>Might be worthwhile to go check that shine on the motors, but you never know who could be hiding in there. Take your pistol out

You weren’t born yesterday and you know your way around a roughing. Luther is small fish compared to the catches you fried before and if mutineers or loyal voidsmen are ambushing you they will meet no finer fate.

The pistol itself is a bit big on your tiny hands so you give it a once over to check everything and squeak down the access hatch. You meet nothing except a loud servitor oiling the chains and perform his eternal duty. Brr. Those things gives you the creeps. You never quite forgot what you had to do with Fred, poor lad, but ain’t no one who is gonna scam that much money from you and live to tell the tale. As you move about the shadows you soon pick you are by yourself and resume a normal search. What you find is horrifying, or would be if you hadn’t seen it already a dozen times.

Appears some poor sodder lost his arm to what you deduce was Las, but could be anything really. It’s neatly torn and pulped. As you pick it up you can see the source of the shine; a simple band ring golden that you always coveted. Then realization dawns on you.

“Eeek” you scream by reflex and almost let the arm fall. This is Raby’s. The ring is, and you recognize the arm too! Your stomach almost jumps out of your mouth as you swallow your foul bile back up.

God Emperor, why... Why did it have to be Rabbit Fallcastle? Anyone but him...

>Keep the arm and search for the rest of it. He must still be around if he took a wound like that

>Keep the arm and go down the stairs at your usual pace (faster than that slow ass lift) so you can get back to Deck 40. There is someone who owes you one, time to cash in that favor

>You know, you always wanted that ring... it’s stuck tho. Perhaps if you were to use your mouth...

>Other (write in)

>>91888
>Keep the arm and search for the rest of it. He must still be around if he took a wound like that

>>91888
>Keep the arm and search for the rest of it. He must still be around if he took a wound like that

Try as you might you can’t bring yourself to steal from the man you so shamelessly scammed all these years when he ain’t there to catch you for it. You bag the arm, ring and all, and get to searching after his sorry ass. He is gonna hear so much from you if he is alive that you can’t begin to- arrgh! Stupid eyes getting blurry and teary and shit.

You quickly stop all that foggy melodrama and scuttle around the lift like the ratling you are. Aside from a single pair of burned shoes you find nothing else and the longer you search the deeper your heart sinks. Goddamn asshole went and died by himself, unbelievable. That after she went through all the trouble of falsifying his name up on a lottery. Sure, Officer was cutting it far from her expectations which were more on the realms of double rations or extra payments, but damn, he was supposed to go up in life and be her doorway into the upper decks!

After a fruitless search you just sit down on the machine musing it over. Perhaps he fell down the shaft. Wouldn’t be the first nor the last.

Then the chime of the lift wakes you up and you notice Deck 3 is open but the lift doesn’t stop. Sure as day, there is a fucking stripe of blood crawling all the way through that marble white floor into the open corridors and not one Emperor forsaken soul to pay it heed.

>You are quick as a cat, just jump into it and follow that running leaking bloodsake of a friend of yours

>If Raby is fine enough to crawl he is fine enough to find help, you better go back down and bring the big guns

>Where it not for that goddamn ring you would be so trying to helping him right now. But in case Raby died then the ring would be yours, right? No one knows of it

>Other (write in)

>>91964
>You are quick as a cat, just jump into it and follow that running leaking bloodsake of a friend of yours

>>91964
>You are quick as a cat, just jump into it and follow that running leaking bloodsake of a friend of yours

>>91989
>>91976
Sadly this will be as far as I go, mateys. I have been doing it for 9+hours now and the body caught up to the fatigue, plus I am mighty disheartened by my huge failure to present a story worthy enjoying.

I hope you will forgive my misgivings and take whatever enjoyment I could grant and leave behind all the bad juju, no need for someone else to be pained with that shit besides me.

Was planning on ending on a cliffhanger and catching up tomorrow, but I did so much wrong that I don't think I can fix it before sleep becomes a problem (as it has been now, for a while). Again, hope you can forgive me and I will try to fix all the shit and make it all better for futre threads. I haven't lost the war it, although this battle left me bloodied.

>>92009
Night then. I'm about to fall out too. It'll still be up tomorrow.

>>92009
night bro. dont be so hard on yourself.