Anvil (Islands of The Ragged Helix)

[Continued from the Messia thread.]

The Islands of The Ragged Helix are always thought of as the domain of the Pirate Princes. However the Ragged Helix is a large expanse of space and the outer asteroids are dominated by the asteroid-smithies. One in particular is Anvil. A large asteroid with vast complexes dotting its surfaces and others burrowed into it. It all belongs to Magos Ulta and he never fails to remind Weyland of that detail.

After Weylands arrival he was given all the tools and the space to create new Astartes. Or as Ethhart put it, "Magos Ulta wants us to begin work immediately. Even if it kills us."

Weyland had everything. The gene-seed, equipment, and a trusty assistant. He was however missing the final ingredient, aspirants. The one detail Magos Ulta did not think about but he quickly rectified that. For today countless slavers have brought their best stock and even those who have willingly volunteered to be selected.

They've all been assembled in a large atrium. A glass dome above looks out in the Vortex.

Etthart has already given Weyland the important details. There are four major slavers who've brought in what they believe to be the best candidates. All meet the criteria. All are adolescents or young adults and are male.

Slaver: Belrock. Candidates: All hail from planet Mammon. All are true and stalwart believers in the God-Emperor even though on their planet the others they kill are also believers. They are all excellent warriors.

Slaver: The Countess. Candidates: All hail from the planet Xurunt. Bloodthirsty warriors who worship a god akin to Khorne (who they probably worship).

Slaver: Ivanist. Candidates: All hail from the planet Melancholia. A fresh stock or that's what Ivanist says. They're a dull and dreary group.

Slaver: Gul. Candidates: From an Imperial feral planet.

Then their are two groups of volunteers. One group are the Talax from the War Moons and the other are young members from a warband.

[How you want to handle this is up to you. Have fun!]

[Welyand has the ability to create 20 Astartes. 7 gene seeds that he procured from Messia and 13 more that were in Magos Ulta's possession.]

Weyland takes a moment to inspect and examine each group in vivid detail. He takes as much time as necessary to assess the groups' collective mentalities, strengths, and weaknesses. While the others may not know it, he was creating Death Guard here, and his recruits would exemplify what it meant to be such chosen.

Weyland assembles a mental pros and cons list from his observations.

Mammon
Pros: Resilient, warrior spirit, devoted*
Cons: Devotion to the God-Emperor is incredibly strong.

Xurunt
Pros: Merciless, warrior spirit, blood-thirsty, devoted*
Cons: A culture deeply ingrained in the worship of Khorne.

Melancholia
Pros: Incredibly resilient (nothing seems to bother them)
Cons: Docile, no drive, no warrior spirit

Imperial Feral World
Pros: Resilient, crafty hunters and survivalists, warriors spirit
Cons: Resist command and orders, untrained, undisciplined

Talax
Pros: Resilient, warrior spirit, trained, disciplined, resourceful
Cons: A culture built around the worship of Khorne

Warband Members
Pros: Merciless, resourceful, trained
Cons: Lack discipline, thieves and criminals, no warrior spirit

Etthart Common Lore (Screaming Vortex): 6 (all the DoS)

Etthart grabs Weyland's attention, "The ones from Melancholia. They might look docile at this moment in time. However, if I've remembered correctly them being docile is only held in check when on Melancholia. Those removed from the planet start to reach out and seek ever new experiences. More extreme then the last."

A slight smile stitched across Weyland's face. Etthart had confirmed his thoughts - almost as though he were inside of his head - once again proving his worth.

"I agree fully. They will be my first generation and the Grandfather shall bless them so." My children; my Death Guard. How long had it been since the formidable Plague Doctor had had the chance to spawn a new generation of his beloved legion? Ten years? Twenty? Half a century? The time ebbed by as he stalked the stars in his isolation, looking for his prize. These Marines would aid in that search. On paper, they would be loyal to whomever they were sold to, but the germs soaking their geneseed even know would assure their true loyalties.

Loyalty to the Plague Doctor Creator, to the Legion Eternal, and to the Grandfather All Powerful.

He walked back in large, slow steps to the vox array and spoke to the slavers. "Melancholia will receive the blessings."

He was eager to begin his work.

Ivanist smiles at the selection of his stock. The other slavers bow their heads and take their stock and leave. The Talax and the Warband members don't disperse though.

"We won't leave until you pit us in a trial. How can one make a choice if he's never seen what the group can do!" A young Talax boy says.

One of the warband boys points to the ones from Melancholia, "We'll see who gets the blessings then... weaklings!"

Ivanist shakes his head, "You're all foolhardy. Already going against the wishes of the Death Guard. He wants nothing to do with your insubordinate asses."

Weyland regarded the foolhardy, bloodthirsty groups. They were eager to fight, didn’t know their place, and showed open defiance to a veteran of the long war. The last could not be tolerated. But there was always a lessons to teach and a lesson to be learned.

“Those of you wishing a challenge shall have it. Your group against yours,” he said gesturing to the Warband and the Talax.

“Whichever group survives will gain my attention.”

Sent from Topic'it App

The Talax don't even wait to be told to start fighting. They descend onto the warband in mass. The attack catches the warband off guard and they lose a few of their members but they respond with devastating effects. In the end it's the disciplined nature of the Talax that wins them the trial letting the warband members ware themselves down until they were easy pickings. Only 8 Talax remain living.

Their bloody leader then points to the Melancholia boys, "Do we get to slaughter the sheep now?"

Weyland looks to Etthart for a few seconds. "Apparently a demonstration is necessary. Children never learn."

He walked into the staging area where the warband lie dead and the Talax, much fewer in number now stood. He looked to those from Melancholia - his chosen. At no point during the "challenge" did his original opinion falter. Let the berserkers, Khornite hot heads, destroy one another. Even as he entered, he saw that hot rage and defiance begin to fade away as his massive armored frame engulfed the entirety of the space.

He stood motionless for a few seconds, taking them all in. Whelps.

"No." The word wheezed out like molten steel. With patience, he took off his helmet and stared at them with his horrendous face, the mark of Nurgle upon his forehead bleeding puss down around his sickly, intelligent eyes. He clipped the helmet to his belt. With the same patience, he drew his plague blade.

"My word was final and you should have heeded it."

With that, he lunged for the leader.

Spoiler:

Weyland buries his plague knife into the Talax leaders chest. The boy crumbles over Weyland's blade and the others look on at the true horror that is Weyland. It's a mad dash to flee as quickly as possible.

Weyland is now left all alone expect for his new subjects, Etthart, and Ivanist. Etthart deals with Ivanist paying the slaver his due and leaving Weyland with the boys from Melancholia. Today they would begin to take the steps in becoming Astartes.

+++++++++++++++++++++

The technology and the ability of the Dark Mechanicus rivals and even surpasses that of the Mechanicus is certain areas. When someone unshackles themselves from the strict nature of the Mechanicus and is free to experiment in ways deemed heretical you can expand your knowledge exponentially. However, some things can not be rushed like the making of an Astartes. It will be a long journey for the new Death Guard aspirants. They're in good hands though with Weyland, Etthart, and an extensive support staff thanks to Magos Ulta.

Magos Ulta has not wasted anytime in spreading the news that he has a batch of Astartes for sale. A batch that will have complete loyalty to which ever warlord can acquire them. The Chaos Space Marines of the Screaming Vortex and beyond are a great boon for any warlord but it comes at a risk. They are beings of immense power and their loyalties do not always lie solely to a warlord's goals. What Magos Ulta has promised has caused emissaries from Warlords far and wide to flock to Anvil. For today is the day of the auction on who will get Weyland's Death Guards. None seem to care that the aspirants and their process of becoming Astartes will take another four to five years to complete.

Today, Weyland stands in the center of Anvil. A great hollow chamber in the middle of the asteroid. Magos Ulta has decided to kick off the auction with a party before the initial betting would begin. The more socially inclined emissaries and entourage members are enjoying themselves immensely. A few others don't seem interested in the festivities and just want to get straight to business.

Etthart is not at Weyland's side today. He's back at the lab doing work. Weyland would like to be their as well but Magos Ulta insisted that his chief doctor of the Astartes project come and mingle.

From listening to others Weyland has built an incomplete list of important or interesting individuals here:

Kranak, Khorne Berzerker: The emissary for Captain Korgin, The World-Reaver. The party is definitely not to his liking and he looks like he'll kill everyone in the room to get the auction started and he probably could.

Maxims, Psyker: The emissary of Soloria Half-Blind. A lithe man but don't let his lack of physical ability fool you. His power lies in his mind and his connection to the warp. The party to him is probably just a puzzle to be solved.

Niklay, Pirate Princess: The emissary of Korick, The Blue Devil. She's a charming swashbuckler. She's having a grand time at the party as she works the crowd and weasels herself into other conversations.

Viroid, Plaguemister: The emissary of Vorxec Calvarious. A fellow follower of Nurgle from the markings on his clothing and his sickly appearance but high energy. He's not one for talking but he does help himself to the unending food and alcohol.

Fimolov, Warpsmith: A lone figure with no direct connection to any known warlord in the Vortex. He must be here on his own or some new aspiring warlord has acquired his services. The markings on his armor announce him as a member of the Iron Warriors.

Weyland did not enjoy being away from the lab and his work, but understood the importance of the long-game. The warriors needed a suitable warlord - someone who would see them best utilized to spread the news of the Grandfather. There was an obvious choice of course, and Weyland immediately noted him. But another piqued his interest.

He made his way to the Iron Warrior and nodded his head. "Iron Within," he said. The mantra of the IVth Legion of which he remembered well.

The Warpsmith turns his chromed skull shaped helmet in Weyland's direction. Its lower jaw is slightly unhinged making it appear in mid-laugh.

"Iron Without," he says finishing the mantra, "You must be Weyland. News of your products has spread around the vortex like a plague." Fimolov can't help but laugh at his own joke, "I am Fimolov hailing from the Heterodact Array." He takes in the chamber around him, "What Magos Ulta has here is quite impressive. However, this party is unnecessary and a waste of time. Odd for a Heretek to be interested in something so... social."

Weyland smiled at the quip horrifically. "It is good to have one's work noticed. It is an odd event now that you mention it. Though, I wouldn't assume the the Magos is as interested in this event as he is interested in what may come of it. No doubt, this is a machination in a much larger series of events."

Weyland looked around the party, bloodshot eyes settling on the follower of Nurgle before coming back to Fimolov.

"There is an obvious choice of whom to bestow my children. But I have found that the obvious choice is not always the best choice. Tell me, what use would an Iron Hand Warpsmith have with my particular Astartes brood?"

Iron and Metal wrote:

Weyland smiled at the quip horrifically. "There is an obvious choice of whom to bestow my children. But I have found that the obvious choice is not always the best choice. Tell me, what use would an Iron Hand Warpsmith have with my particular Astartes brood?"

The chromed laughing skulls turns toward Weyland, "Everything and anything." Fimolov turns his head away from the Plague Marine. "You and I are not so different, Weyland. We both create. My creations are ones of flesh, metal, and sometimes the powers of the warp. Your's are flesh with the blessings of Nurgle. Neither is easy to create and take more time then one would think. However, something about an Astartes is different. We should know."

Weyland nodded slowly. Meticulously. The Astartes were different; they were better. Demigods above mere mortals. With that in mind, they too could be killed and had to learn their place in the universe.

"I do not deny it. You would be a worthy leader of such profound creations. But alas, nothing is free. We too both understand that. What is it that you are offering the Magos for my children?"

Before Fimolov can respond to Weyland the two are interrupted by a cherub.

It whispers into Weyland's ear, "Ethhart needs to speak to you immediately." The cherub then tugs on Weyland's collar and the Plague Marine lets the twisted being guide him over to a vox box.

Wayland activates it and Ethhart comes whispering through, "Weyland, we have a problem. A serious problem down here in the lab. Something is down here and it's going after your brood one by one. It's already gotten five of them. I've been able to contain it but I don't know for how long."

Weyland grimaced, feeling the puss ooze from his mark of Nurgle on his forehead down and around his eyes. This was unexpected to say the least. He cast his glances around the room, trying to see if there was a tell from anyone - anything to give away someone with something to hide...

[Scrutiny Untrained <25; rolled 11/2 DoS (if Awareness 5 DoS) http://orokos.com/roll/591059]

None here at the party have anything to hide from what Weyland's intuition is telling him. That or whoever is behind the plan is someone who can blend in easily and not give themselves away. There are many of those trained in those skills in the room though.

Etthart's voice comes crackling back over the vox box, "Weyland, it's trying to break containment. I don't know if the servitors down here can handle it."

“Warpsmith, accompany me please,” Weyland called back. He locked eyes with the disciple of Nurgle.

“You too, if you’d be so kind, cousin.”

He responded to Etthart, “On my way now. Do not let it escape containment.”

He didn’t wait to see if the others followed; he made haste to his lab.

Sent from Topic'it App

Welyand can hear the heavy footsteps of Fimolov following behind him.

The two Astartes come up to the lab entrance and everything is locked down Etthart up the blast door covering the entrance and the two of them move towards the main room.

[Basic layout of the lab is like an onion. At the center is the main room that is connected to a long hall that leads to the only entrance. Around it is a series of rings. There's rooms that branch off from each ring. In each ring there's a room where 5 subjects are going through changes to become Astartes.]

The Heretek is manning one of the computers in the main room.

"Just in time. I don't know how the assailant made it in but I have it locked down in ring 3. I've been trying to herd it but it's sliced through every servitor it's come across. I think it's trying to find access into ring 2."

Etthart plays back a pict recording. A gaunt spindly figure in ragged robes quickly dispatches a group of servitors with inhuman speed. It's hard to see what it is on the pict recording as the figure itself is covered by some sort of distortion field.

Fimolov grunts, "Tech-assassin."

"Let's see if we can dissuade it. You seem to be acquainted with its ilk - what are its strengths and weaknesses?"

Weyland readied his bolter and made his way to the door. He was eager to see what the Warpsmith could do.

Weyland sure doesn't know anything about this new combatant. Lucky for him Fimolov is very acquainted with its kind.

"Strengths: Speed, stealth, regeneration, close combat, and hard to hit thanks to its quantum field. Weaknesses: There's only one of them here."

The warpsmith looks at Etthart, "Heretek, do you have any additional weapons here?"

Etthart responds by pressing a button and a section of the ceiling comes down. A weapons locker.

[Inside the weapons locker: Weyland's Bolter (if he didn't take it to the party), 2 other Bolters, 3 Astartes Shotguns, 2 Flamers, 2 Chainswords, and a assortment of ammo: Scourge Shells (Shotguns), Metal Storm Rounds (Bolter), Scatterscream Rounds (Shotguns), Regular Ammo (Shotguns and Bolters)]

Fimolov grabs a shotgun and some scourge shells [Weyland made them so what kind of disease is loaded into them? Pick one from Tome of Decay] and scatterscream rounds. Then from his body his mechadendrites unravel themselves [2 Dendrite Blades, 1 Mechatendrile, 1 Utility Mechadendrite, 1 Ballistic Mechadendrite (Inferno Pistol)]. Fimolov's collection of mechadendrites was just as impressive as Etthart's. What Etthart didn't have was the Servo-Arm that sprung forth from the warpsmith's back. It snaps its mandibles together like a wild animal. Fimolov was ready for battle.

Weyland felt something crawl up his spine at his ignorance of the enemy.

Could it be excitement? How long has it been since I have felt that sensation?

He moved to the armory and took two spare magazines of ammunition. [If Metal Storm rounds serve a purpose here - like proving to be better at getting through a quantum field due to the amount o projectile, he will take those. If they serve no other purpose than killing hordes per RAW, he will stick with standard ammo.]

He nodded to the Warpsmith, taking in the information. "Regeneration? Perhaps direct damage isn't the best solution. Perhaps we use that regeneration against it. Toss this in first, let it deal with it, then assault." He reached down and tapped the blight grenade on his belt. If the Warpsmith understood what the weapon was, he would keep his distance when it deployed.

"Etthart, are all of the subjects in the current room it is in dead?"

Weyland craned his neck to one side and a horrendous series of wet cracks greeted the room. He shouldered his ancient bolter and awaited a reply.

[Nah, Metal Storm rounds will help with the Quantum Field. Any weapon or ammunition that fires in a spread reduces the Quantum Fields -20 on BS to -10.]

Fimolov looks at the blight grenades, "If it's regeneration was more biological then mechanical those would work. Black Blood isn't biological so the effect of the blight grenades would be minimal."

Etthart checks a read out on his console, "Yes, those were the first five it came across. All were eviscerated." A warning light then comes on, "It's trying to breach into the next ring. I'm moving Servitors to intercept if it succeeds."

Weyland nodded once. His ignorance of this creature intrigued him; one way or another, his knowledge would increase after this fight. He would study whatever this was. He would find a way for it to serve the Father of Plagues.

"All can be made to serve Nurgle, but I will defer to your expertise in this fight. Take us in, Warpsmith Fimolov." He pushed in a fresh magazine of metal storm rounds and put his mind to the fight at hand.

"Etthart, seal the door behind us."

[Let's give Fimolov's shotgun ammo the "Enfeeble" disease from Tome of Decay]

Fimolov takes point and leads Weyland in through the rings. As they approach the third ring they can hear metal being torn apart then it suddenly stops.

"I think it knows we're coming." Fimolov says pumping the shotgun.

They step up to a bulk head door that slides up. They both press in quickly guns up and ready. The door slams behind them and they're all alone.

Weyland and the Warpsmith stand in a warzone. Bits and pieces of servitors strewn all over the place. The more somber site for Weyland is his aspirants torn to pieces and bits of them hanging from their rigs.

Fimolov sweeps his shotgun down the corridor, "I've got nothing."

Weyland, looking down the other way, has nothing either.

[No combat yet. Seeing how Weyland wants to come at the Tech Assassin. As said the areas of the labs are rings.]

Weyland said nothing. He was not one of the treacherous Alpha Legion or cowardly Night Lords. He preferred it when his enemies knew that he was coming.

Weyland took in the layout of the room, scanning everything. Once he was sure his section was clear and Fimologv was correct, he moves to any candidates in the rooms. Their deaths were inconvenient, but only the loss of geneseed was a true tragedy. He expertly goes through the remains to retrieve any blessed geneseed remaining.

With that done, he picks up his bolter and scans again. "Take us in, Warpsmith. Let's eradicate this nuisance," he hissed.



+++
Awareness 26 vs 65/4 DoS ; Medicae 18 vs 69/6 DoS. http://orokos.com/roll/617413

Fimolov takes point and leads Weyland along the ring.

Weyland looks over his destroyed aspirants. There's nothing left of them except shared of bones and strings of muscle. Total evisceration. There's no gene seed to collect either... the tech assassin saw to that as well.

The two Astartes keep creeping along the ring meeting no resistance. Weylands tuned and hightened ears catch the faintest of sounds coming towards them. Weyland saw nothing though but the sounds kept getting closer. Then Weyland looks up and sees the grates in the ceiling. It's in the walls...

[Roll for initiative!]

Fimolov:

Tech Assassin:

"Walls and ceilings." Weyland said calmly as the realization dawned on him. He drew his ancient bolter up and focused on the movement. "Right now is how the bond between steel and decay is forged, Warpsmith Fimilov. Let us imbue upon this creature our collective knowledge."

Tracking the movement, the Plague Marine pumped out three metal storm rounds, absolutely chewing up the general area.

Initiative:

[Round 1]

A metallic screech resonates out of the ceiling. Weyland hit it but it just seemed to make the Tech Assassin mad as it scrambles its way through the ceiling. The mechanical assassin then comes bursting out of the ceiling right above Weyland.

Tech Assassin:

Fimolov tries to get a clear shot but can't.

"Make a hole Plague Marine!" Fimolov yells out as his boots pound towards Weyland and the Tech Assassin.

Fimolov:

Fimolov doesn't draw any type of close combat weapon as he comes charging in. He is the weapon. His massive bulk slams into the Tech Assassin doing some damage and forcing it down the hall and away from Weyland.

[Tech Assassin is 3 meters away.]

[Weyland can go again to finish off this round. I'm feeling nice and I don't want to do a whole other round ]

With Fimilov on the offensive and locked in melee, Weyland thought better of firing again. Instead, the plague knife in his hand begged to be put to use.

He charged forward, taking three thundering steps, smashing into the tech assassin to tear it apart in tandem with the Warpsmith.

Charge Attack:

Tech Assassin:

Weyland's plague knife rips into the Tech Assassin with more then expected results. It takes a good chunk out of the machine and it seems to be stunned.

[Round Two]

Fimolov shoves the barrel of his shotgun right into the stunned Tech Assassin's chest.

Fimolov:

The Scatterscream round doesn't miss. A blast radiates outwards and the Tech Assassin is knocked into another daze.

[Skipping the Tech Assassin since it is stunned. So, Weyland is up!]

Weyland doesn't need to react to the scatterscream round. His body absorbs the shock and blast as though it were nothing. He pulls the plague knife free and smashes it back into the Tech Assassin.

"Can you extract information from it if it is dead?" He asked casually in his dripping, sickly voice. If the Warpsmith could pull information from its corpse, all the better.

Attack:

"It shouldn't be a problem." Fimolov says in response to Weyland's questions.

The plague knife digs deep into the mechanical guts of the Tech-assassin. The toxicity of the knife burns its way deeper into the being before Weyland rips it out causing more damage. The Tech-Assassin screechs but it's quickly interrupted when the servo-arm of Fimolov pulverizes it's head into hundreds of pieces.

The metal body crumbles to the ground. However, a beeping noise catches Fimolov's attention.

"Move!" He yells.

[Will need a +0 Agility check to see if Weyland can move in time.]

Spoiler:

Weyland braced himself. The Death Guard were stalwart and he was no exception. He began backing away, but not nearly quickly enough for what was to come.

Agility Test:

Like a mighty stone against the wave, he braced himself. The weeping puss from thousands of sores coating his skin immediately hardened. And he waited for the inevitable.

Hideous Resilience :

Fimolov backs away quicker then Weyland can. The Tech-assassin doesn't explode in a normal way. Instead it's body is enveloped in a black ball that quickly expands catching Weyland. Everything goes black and Weylands molecules start to get pulled apart.

Then all of a sudden he returns to the world.

Damage:

Weyland grit his teeth hard as the black tech-plague gripped him. It began tearing away and eating. A lesser being would have died in agonizing pain, but that was nothing new to one of Nurgle's chosen. As quickly as his cells were eaten, they were replenished.

He stood like a statue as it dissipated. The murkey HUD in his helmet let him know that he was not one hundred percent. He would need to apply medical aid to himself to get there, but he would not show that.

He turned to Fimolov, simultaneously keying his vox to both the Warpsmith through his external speakers and Etthart on a private channel. "Are we clear of outside intruders?"

When one or either respond, he asks Fimolov directly, "Where did this creature originate?"

"We're clear." Etthart voxes to Weyland, "I've given Magos Ulta a situation report at his request. He's dispatching part of his personnel guard to protect the other subjects. Also, he wants a word with you when you're done here."

Fimolov does a sweep of the ring while Weyland attends to his wounds. He comes back, "All clear, plague marine."

At Weyland's question the Warpsmith looks to the blackened spot where the Tech-assassin once was, "Could be from a number of entities here in the Vortex. The pattern was that of the Exospectre's, the Magos of Forge Castir on The Hollows. However, his pattern had been copied and bought by others from my knowledge. I doubt the Tech-assassin originated from within this forge. It probably hitched a ride on a incoming vessel or someone brought it here. It's probably no coincidence that when a bunch of ships just showed up here for an auction that a Tech-assassin showed itself."

Weyland finished working on himself quickly. The wounds were already starting to heal thanks to his enhanced physiology originally gifted by the Corpse-Emperor before he was a joke. Thankfully, it had been thoroughly enhanced by the real Lord of the galaxy: Papa Nurgle.

He pushed his narthecium into his power armor's access port and let the concoctions within it flood through his bloodstream, speeding up the process.

First Aid:

Weyland clicked back to Etthart that he acknowledged and focused on Fimolov. "Clear, Warpsmith. I would not be thorough if I did not ask the obvious question: did you bring this creature here? You do know a lot of this type of being as is your duty."

He makes no threatening move toward Fimolov while he awaits his response. He even goes so far as to sheathe his deadly plague knife.

Scrutiny:

Question:

The Warpsmith cocks his helm slightly to the side, "Why would I want these magnificent creations destroyed? That would serve no purposes to my cause in acquiring them. I would also not help in defeating a beast that I would of unleashed. Would defeat the purpose of unleashing it. So in short, no, I did not bring this Tech-assassin here."

Ulta's personal guards arrive. The pure black humanoids that were big as Astartes.

One looks at Weyland with it's featureless face, "The Magos wants to see you immediately in his chambers. No delays."

Fimolov eyes Ulta's creations and then looks at Weyland, "I can stay and help your assistant with repairs to the lab if you'd like?"

Weyland had no reason to disbelieve the Warpsmith. In fact, he had reveled in the melee they shared together. It filled him with a sense of, if not honor, camaraderie that he had not felt in many centuries.

He nodded and held out his gauntlet, grasping the Warpsmith forearm to forearm. "It was a pleasure fighting together. It has been some time since I fought beside another Astartes worthy of that title. While I appreciate your offer, Etthart can manage. If you would not mind, though, I believe your eyes and ears back at the party would do more to find the culprit here. You've already earned my vote of confidence to purchase the subjects - find those responsible for this attack and I will see what I can do to convince the Magos to sweeten the pot."

Regardless of how the Warpsmith answers, Weyland made his leave to see Ulta.

Magos Ulta's chambers was on the opposite end of Anvil. It was hardly a lavish place. Exposed cables, work benches, servitors and servants running around from whatever pet projects Ulta had going on. At one end was a large open area of sorts. All kinds of things were being built and rebuilt there.

Ulta himself was there working on something... something that looked like an Astartes Dreadnought. Two of his black clad guards flanked it on either side.

"I heard we had an unexpected guest." Ulta says and he slithers out from one of the section of the Dreadnought, "A Tech-assassin that killed 5 of our subjects. Now I have to explain to our buyers they will getting 5 less Astartes now. Some will not be pleased."

Ulta slithers onto the ground and raises up to his full height which is well above Weyland, "First, did this Tech-assassin beat my security measures? Anvil is very well guarded and secured. Second, is this threat to the subjects credible enough for follow up attacks? I have will happily move your work offsite to guarantee the success of this venture."

"You heard correctly. It matters not whether or not the buyers are pleased. One of them is the reason we are now short 5 gifts from the Father."

He stood easily in the room, staring at the dreadnought. He wondered how he could gift it with the powers of nurgle. It would make a find addition to the army he was cultivating. One step at a time.

"With five subjects dead, the answer to your first question seems quite obvious, does it not? It beat your internal security measures within the laboratories but also in your docks. Someone brought it in. Someone seeks to undermine you and undo what we have made here. I would double down security with the remaining subjects; if the culprit launched one attack, they may have the capabilities to launch another."

He waited for a response before adding.

"One of the buyers, a Warpsmith called Fimolov was integral in the fight against the Tech Assassin. I conscripted him when I received word of what was happening. He fought well and I have since sent him to root out the culprit. While I cannot be completely sure he didn't bring the assassin himself, I do not believe this was his work. Should he make an agreeable offer, he would be a worthy buyer."

"I think I forgot a how in one of those sentences." Ulta says [GM mistake ]

"If they bypassed my security then they're quite skilled and confident. I suspect the Tech-assassin will not be the last attempt. So, yes, I'll double security with my personal guards and Thallaxii."

Ulta scurries back to the Dreadnought, "I believe the quickest way to solve this matter is finding our saboteur and eliminating them. I think this would be a worthwhile task for you, Weyland. If I put Anvil on lock down it will only cause them to blend in further. We need to weasel them out. You say you recruited a Warpsmith to do so already? Two hunters is always better then one. I'll remember the good deeds this Fimolov has done for us."

Ulta dismisses Weyland. Looks like the Plague Marine has a new task as hand. Find the saboteur.


Weyland meets up with Fimolov back at the center of Anvil. The party is still going strong.

"I've checked the usual suspects. Maxims and Niklay. Followers of the schemer gods. However, the two seem to be more then interested in buying the goods instead of destroying them. An unusual case is Kranak. He wasn't here when I returned. Asking around revealed he went back to his ship until the bidding started. Asking the guards though... Kranak never returned to his ship."

"Understood." Weyland would assume all facilities and resources were at his disposal until told otherwise and then would have to have another discussion with Ulta.

He vox's Etthart on his way back and orders him to continue working on the progress and safety of the remaining specimens while updating him on the situation.


++++


"We need to find Kranak. Etthart," Weyland voxed back to the heretek. "I need you to check pict feeds and send them to me - find the Khorne berserker who was at the party. We need to know his location now."

While Etthart gets on that, Weyland makes his way over to the Plaguemeister Viroid. He stands dominantly over him and, if the Warpsmith followed, presents quite an imposing form. "Earlier in the night I beckoned you follow me, plaguemeister. You did not. Is the party so entertaining?"

"Yes sir. Combing the pict feeds now." Etthart voxes back.

The Plaguemeister was still helping himself to food and drink when Fimolov and Weyland approached. He doesn't seem phased by the presence of the Astartes. More annoyed then anything else.

"Beckoned you say? I don't follow anyone... even kin of Nurgle without first knowing what I'm getting into. Those that rush headlong don't tend to last very long." He then points to his food, "That and I doubt you can provide this kind of service."

"Paranoid, a sloth, and a glutton for the mortal wears. I wouldn't waste your time with this kin of Nurgle, Weyland." Fimolov says without emotion.

"Yeah, don't waste you time." Viroid belches back.

Weyland reached out and grabbed Viroid by the top of the head. His hand was big enough to easily engulf the plaguemeister's cranium.

"Perhaps you should rethink whom you follow and whom you don't. It is folly to think you have a choice in all such matters."

He began squeezing. It wasn't enough to kill, but enough to serve an important lesson. He waits for a reaction before decided how to proceed.

The grip around Viroid's head doesn't seem to be causing him any pain. He just seems more annoyed.

The plaguemeister rolls his eyes, "Are you done Plague Marine? You are causing a scene."

Weyland can see some party goes have stopped what they are doing to watch.

Etthart comes crackling back over the vox, "Kranak disappeared from the pict recorders in sector 4B. I haven't been able to pick him up since then. He's quite sneaky for a follower of Khorne."

The pict recordings have been sent to Weyland's helmet. He can see Kranak disappear in sector 4B and never reappear. Either Kranak could turn invisible or his skill in stealth was quit impressive which would be very odd for a Berzerker.

Weyland held firm, considering his next options. "if you value your life, do not ever disrespect a veteran of the long war again. We both serve the Grandest of Fathers - remember who is in greater favor."

He cared not that he was causing a scene. He had been betrayed and his mission compromised. Vengeance would be had.

"A new opportunity to serve the Grandfather has arrived. Once more you are beckoned to follow. An alliance is beneficial for us both, Plaguemeister. For the rot and the rebirth."

Intimidate:

Weyland calmly awaited his reply before responding to Etthart. "Acknowledged.
Warpsmith, we have a destination."

[Viroid has Fearless...]

"Ah, a veteran of the ill fated Heresy I take it as well?" Viroid says wittingly, "Remember who I serve, Weyland. Vorxec Calvarious. Nurgle favors him much more then you. So continue on whatever you're up to without me."

Viroid takes a glass of wine and walks away from Weyland.


Fimolov and Weyland arrive at sector 4B. It's a lightly patrolled area as everything in here is automated systems producing some form of human armor.

Fimolov calls out, "Weyland, you should see this."

Weyland comes over to find Fimolov holding the helmet of Kranak. At his feet is the rest of his armor.

"An Astartes that would shed his armor? Odd." Fimolov says more to himself than Weyland.

Weyland releases his grip as the walking excrement slunk away. "I will remember, because I never forget anything."

He tried to recall what he know of Vorxec Calvarious...

Int +0 Test:

Before moving on, he voxes back to Etthart. "Keep eyes on the Plaguemeister. I want to know as much about him, his retinue, and the ship he arrived in."

+++

Weyland approached and looked at Fimolov's find. "I've never known one to do so willingly - not in potentially hostile territory. Either he is furthering his subterfuge, or a greater power ripped the armor from his corpse."

Awareness 55: