[This is the "IN-TIME" thread of the RPG. Rules questions etc. should be kept to the Off-Time topic]

Danny-Ironfists Tavern

As the search party approached the rundown shack with the neon signs all over it, one of the humble patrons was just thrown out by a burly bouncer, loosing a couple of his teeth on the landing. And a glance in the dark alley to the side implied he was more of a lucky one as the pair of bodies lying there in the dim darkness didn't really look like they were taking a nap.
A degenerate heap of villanry, backstabbing and betrayal if you asked any uphiver - a posh establishment for the gentleman or lady that has made something out of himself if you asked someone from the deeper layers of the underhive or the sump. The tavern could be found in the upper regions of the underhive and was the dedicated starting point for search party Gamma 6. The reason became soon clear, as a mere 20 yards from it, the floor suddenly dropped into the abyss. Chaotic and broken down as everything around here looked, one could argue that the wanton destruction caused by the Chaos-Astartes attack with melta-charges didn't make much difference to the pittoreske scene, but the vast scale of that giant whole defied such musings.

The Chasm... that's what the uphivers had started to call it. A poetic name for what basically looked as if an angry god had cast his fiery fist right through the sprawling mass of the hive, collapsing floor after floor until it looked like a giant volcano had a smaller eruption and built a secondary caldera. Crazy thing was, most of the people from around here that the search party had encountered so far didn't even knew what caused it. There had been some talk about some kind of attack on the planet, but the underhivers were so detached from the world up there - at best being treated as labor cattle - that most of the attack carried out by Chaos forces had kind of missed their attention. Sure they had seen some fighting, PDF-troops and their tanks leveling some building blocks and "stranger than usual" looking attackers making their way into the innards of the nether regions of the hive, but in the grand picture that was nothing too unusual and the suddend collaps had overall surprised the people around here. Still it was met with some kind of adventurous stoicicm. Whoever was around to muse about these things was relieved it hadn't been his or her district that had been dropped into the ground and there was much else to think about. If you acted smart, you might really cut out some nice peace of the cake right now. Lots of stuff lying around that fell down from uphive, lots of other stuff whose owner was dead or on the other side of the chasm, far out of reach now and of course: the balance of power was about to shift completely down here. Knives were grinded, new territories cut out and old grudges settled in the power vaccuum left by loisys command center dropping right on the fortress the Zarabastas - the most powerful gang down in this section of the hive, that had called the shots for decades.

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Brigadier Gaston and Enforcer John had volunteered themselves - or maybe were volunteered? - like many others for one of the numerous search parties send downwards into the chasm in a frail attempt to search for those, that had been dragged into it by the explosion. The official-for-public reason was to rescue all survivors of course. The less official reason was to look for Governor Loisy and the highest ranking officers. The inofficial, but practical reason was to try to salvage at least some of the data and expensive equipment that was dropped and of course make at least an effort to calm the followers of the late Governor. John suspected as much, because while some two hundred search parties had been send downwards, that was still far too few to have more than a lucky shot at finding anything down here. It wasn't his first time in the upper layers of the underhive, having sometimes persued people here, but he was well aware that the next layers played by completely different rules. All the more reason that he had insisted their squad of 10 volunteers to look out for a tavern like Dannies in the hope of finding a local guide to help them.

One of the others from the search team was a young Brigadier of Kallenese decent, standing beside John, his lasgun at the ready and looking at the hovel suspiciously.


_________________________

Cold Eye squinted at the bowl of greyish goo the barkeep had gave her. There were big, grimy eyes of fat swimming on top, which was always a good sign, and there even seemed to be some meat in it. Some little bones too, rat she would think. Damn, this was a real posh place and usually much to expensive for her. But word on the street had been that the uphivers were scurrying around down here and if you made good with Danny, you might find a job around here and make some good money. It had cost her quite some scrap and trinkets she had found over the years to get on Dannies good side, she just hoped it would be worth it in the long run.
Starting at her stew, she thought about all the strange things she had recently seen. The strangest being the bright round light you could sometimes make out at the top of the big hole in the sky of the underhive. She had never seen such a thing, nor had any of her tribe. And the sense of space and distance made her feel dizzy when she looked up there. Where even was the ceiling? And what had happened to it?

"Enforcer, this place is a true gakhole. Are you certain we need to stop by here? Besides, I'm not entirely sure hivers are going to be kind to a PDF soldier, even less so to an enforcer who's been actively bashing their heads over for the past decade...". Gaston was nervously watching all around him, lasgin elevated for and ready for any sign of ambush as per his training. As Gaston was from a signals company, rather than a true frontliner, he didn't benefit from the training in the underhives that helped shape the raider regiments Saint Bonifatius' Reach sent away into the stars to sow terror into the hearts of the enemy. He, for what it was worth, had but standard military training, albeit incorporating experience transmitted by veterans.

He was truly nervous already. The decrepit place he was in made him feel somewhat claustrophobic, considering he had so far lived in the fields and had his short military carrier mostly spend outside guarding and servicing antennas and the like. Everything here was both huge, and crushingly narrow at the same time.

The enforcer didn't answer so far. He wore the badge of ecclesiarchy aligned enforcers - those few who, while technically disbanded, dared to still show their opposition to Loisy and their support for Cardinal Richemont.

"Power angry parasite" Gaston muttered in Kallenes tongue, speaking true, but at the same time, visibly overlooking the privileges that have so far come with him being of Kallenese ancestry.

But he was a proud person at heart, and if the enforcer went, he would not shirk away. But first, a precaution: he went to the nearest window, and peeped inside. What he saw made his blood run cold: a filthy mutant, a half rat thing, was nose in its bowl. And there were yet more. "Go first enforcer, you know how to handle these horrors better than I do, I'll have your back.".

He racked his lasgun on off handle twice to make sure all was alright, and waited by the door for the enforcer to make the most diplomatic entry he could.

Uphivers. Was this the chance Danny had talked about?

They looked so.... fat, so well-fed. They had clothing that was more than tatters, gear that still had a shine to it, and they smelled so different. She couldn't even describe that smell, other than it was smell like no other she had experienced.

She kept her stew carefully guarded, and watched the Uphivers from the corner of her eyes. Were they just recruiting more Starwalkers? If they were, she had to be ready to sprint out, bowl in hand. If they were here for something else though, she needed to be ready to pounce on.

Her eyes carefully saw only her bowl of stew. Her ears were tuned to what these fresh-faces were saying. Her nose was twitching from that smell. Her off hand was lingering by her boom-stick.

Was this what she had spent all that scrap for?

John moved into the tavern, one hand near his shock maul, in case it was needed, but otherwise looked to be at ease.

"They're not all heretics and mutants down here. Some are just normal folks that just...slipped through the cracks." John smirked as he said this, realizing the irony in his words as a massive chasm was very much nearby. Just stay alert, but keep your finger on the safety. If you are gonna shoot someone, it's got to be the RIGHT person."

Once he determines no one is angling to take a shot at him, John sidles up to the bar and places some metal coins on the bar, an unofficial currency in this part of the underhive.

"I'm not here to drink bar tender. But I do need information. We need a guide to take us further down into the under hive. You know of anyone willing to work for a shield (slang for enforcer) to earn some extra scrip?"

[John appears as an older man, probably in his early 50s. His armor and outfit would look very similar to how the Necromunda Enforcer models look. He was volun-told for this assignment, and he considered it to be a bad one, but his philosophy is that there are generally no "good" assignments as an enforcer anyway, and it certainly could be worse. He doesn't believe that anyone could have survived the explosion and was planning to make a token search and rescue effort, and then head home. At least that was the plan...]

The Barkeep came over to see what John wanted of him, his bionic left hand a testament to the establishments name. Emperor knew how a underhive came to such a fine prosthesis that looked fitting for an officer and more importantly how he kept it so long. Which likely meant he had some powerful friends and influence around here keeping him from ending in some alleyway with a knife in his back.

Danny eyed John and his companions as if he was evaluating some pounds of meat at the market, grinning a yellowish smile and moving a thick cigar stump into the corner of his mouth. "Might be me knows someun Gov... But I don't remember no more these days, ya know?" some credits had to change the owner before he pointed with his shining metal hand into a corner, were a scraggy looking... human? Was sitting at a bowl of stew "Ya might try ya luck with old cold eye. Best tracker I know around here. Right down from the sump." which he underlied with a gesture pointing his hand deep down under the counter. "Heard dats were all y'all uphivers wanna go these days. Enjoy yaselfs!" which he underlined with a booming laugh that is taken up by several of the other patrons.


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Gaston hung a little bit back towards the door together with the rest of the search party. Overall a mix of people that were in security business in one way or the other. Enforcers, PDF, private security, mercenaries. The main oddity was someone from the Admechpeople, if still a bit more human looking as the others he had seen before. Most of her (?) face was still visible and human and she didn't seem to be completely up in the clouds like some other cogboys which was... something. Her legs were artificial and looked like Skitariis, but she doesn't really look like a soldier - yet. Did the Skitarii had something like recruits? Maybe... and if so, Rho-453-Sigma was likely one of them.

The Underhivers in the Tavern eyed them like they were food - and if you could believe the rumors, some of them might quite literally consider the option. Yet they seemed to leave Enforcer John be for now, as if there was an unwritten etiquette going on between both factions. As if the Enforcer knew what he could and could not do around here without breaking the peace, as did the Scum that called themselves this regions population. But Gaston and the others were not part of this agreement and if they weren't heavily armed, this might play out a lot differently.

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Cold Eye saw some posh looking uphiver talk with Danny and pay him something - damn Danny made quite a cut on every interaction around here - and then point towards her with his shiny metal hand. The uphiver looked over and then shambled closer...

This was it. This was the moment that Cold Eye had been waiting for. She had to play it right.

As the Uphivers approached, she studiously kept her head down and sipped at her stew. No bother letting it go to the Sump now, no tellin' when she would get a sip again.

Once they were close enough, she hissed out, "Who need Cold Eye's gaze?"

Uphivers tended to grin up for boogity-woogity, To them, going down hive was a sorta' thrill, somethin' they did for giggles. Then, after good laughs they went home to 3-squares and no Sumpgaks or Longlegs at their backs.

John gestures to himself and his PDF comrad.

"The law needs it. That's who," he growls.

"We need a guide to the lower levels. I'm not sure if yah heard, but there was a bit of a war not too long ago. Part of the hive got blown up and fell down deep like. Me and my friend are here to look for survivors and salvage."

"What's your price?"

Gaston and his men nodded in constrained approval. The didn't like to deal with that kind of faithless scum that would betray them at the first turn, but on the other hand, even the veteran that volunteered alongside him didn't now the under levels enough to actually guide anyone. However, they thought that, if they closed on Cold Eye now, she would most probably get scared from the get go. Gaston himself while not a giant, was a tall and muscular soldier, who, considering the relatively frailler appearance of cold eye, could have almost disposed of her in one good blow. But he had no doubt she would amply compensate with agility and cunning in ample supply.

They just grimmly stayed by the door, lasguns at the ready, indexes on the safety, and checking the customers for any sign of hostility, each taking up a different field of view, waiting for John to settle this part.

Cold Eye appraised the Shield and side-eyed the rest of the Uphivers. She suddenly got the feeling that what she thought was worth somefin' and what they thought was worth somefin' might be different.

The Copper mentioned a war.... but those kind of things were always happen around here. Do big hole only brought that to a boil. How or why the great chasm opened, that was for the Emperor to worry about.

Cold Eye licked her cracked and dry lips slowly, dropped her voice to a whisper, "I want.... an Eye-sooo-top-pick Fuel Rod*..... for payment. If we cans scamper back 'ere"

With one of those, she could carve out a little place downhive for herself and what was left of her tribe and be away from all these Uphivers for good.

*=

John nods his head.

"Salvage for your services eh? I can work with that. But we'll have to work out the details once we've reached our destination. There is no guarantee of what we'll find down there."

"Just remember one thing...you don't bite the hand that feeds eh?"


Once he is satisfied that a deal has been concluded, John will gesture to the door, implying that he wants the under hiver to start leading the group as their guide.

The tracker nodded, "Me, Cold Eye. Get ya food and plenty water. It a long crawl about.

Cold Eye awkwardly joined in the with the group. Seeing a member of the Tech Cult reassured her that the Star could deliver.

She wasn't expecting much from these decadent uphivers. They would probably go down for a a few days, she would bag some Sumpgaks along the way, and then come back up for payment. Uphivers didn't have much stomach for the Sump, so they wouldn't stick around down there for long.

having successfully hired a guide into the deeper bowels of the hive, the search party leaves the tavern. But each of you feels a lot of looks on their back with some kind of unease. Cold Eye for once would not be surprised if one or the other within the tavern considered following you in the hope of finding some easier prey, after the dangers of the sump softened you up, and the Enforcer had seen his fair share of murders in this no mans land between upper and under hive to suspect as much.

But for now you are pretty save, as almost a dozen armed people working together are a bit much to chew just to get your hands at some lasguns and food. True to Cold Eyes recommendation you stock up on water and food - the former a slightly cloudy slurry with a distinct metallic aftertaste, the later your choice between some more or less nutritious gruel, dried or smoked meat, all of rather unclear origin. Cold Eye on the other hand had lived of much worse stuff and doesn't seem to have an aversion against the stuff.
After that little shoping trip you find yourself at the border of the chasm again, were the falling debris has formed some kind of descent in the walls. A narrow path, wide enough to walk three aside, if the leftern most doesn't mind tripping close to the edge of a long drop down. Most of the lower regions seem to be pitch dark, with some lights here and there breaking through were scavengers are looking for loot or the cataclysm has ripped open walls to inhabited halls or working machinery. So you will mostly only be able to see as far as your flashlights reach. A strong wind howls upwards in the centre of the chasm, still carrying dust from the settling debris with it, even after a week and it smells like... humanity to put it optimistically. over the years billions of souls have lived and toiled in this hive and all their - quite literally - sweat and tears and... other bodily fluids have ultimatly sickered down into the sump.

As you decent, you hear the rhytmic thumping of some kind of giant machinery in the distance. As you approach some more, you can almost make out voices envolved in a heated argument, maybe 100 yards in front of you. With a mechanical rasp in her otherwise melodic voice Rho-453-Sigma utters "There are 6 people there, and they have drawn weapons against each other... They stand over a body that... I'm not sure, might be a Militarum uniform."
It seems they have not yet noticed you, the question is: what will you do? Wait until they settled their grudge? Try to scare them away? Attack?

Gaston and his crew racked the on switches to make sure lasguns were at the ready, and he instinctively crouched behind a nearby debris of pipe. He wasn't the leader of this expedition, but if the man there lying was truly a brethren from the esteemed Imperial Guard, he had to be saved. Plus, he maybe was in the building when it exploded and could have had insights as to what to look for if they intended to find the Governor.

"Gaston, ready" He said in a trembling but firm voice as aggression and tension rose. His thumb laid on the side light of his rifle.

Besides, if they elected not to attack, Gaston didn't know what these guys arguing and throwing lead at each other were up to. Could be a good thing to provide covering fire anyway...

Side glancing while trying to make out the silhouette in the dark, he listened to what the others would say, in particular, the guide. Cold Eye could potentially be trapping them early on, but at the same time, only she would know the "best way" to deal with that scum, that is, the most effective, of not the most righteous...

John grabs cold eye by the shoulder roughly and then gestures with his free hand in the direction of the shouting and points. He whispers softly:

"Go get a good look at em, then come back an tell me what you see."

He motions for the group to hold position for the time being.

Cold Eye grumbled to herself. Why did she have to take all the risks? The metal lady told them all they needed to know.

She shrugged and slinked off into the shadows to take a closer look.

Gaston was pleased to see the underhiver go first, and hoped it was not a trap. He tilted his gun everso slightly, ready to aim for cold eye first if treachery was revealed. But he hoped it was none of it and they could rescue what was presumably a comrade... Or learn something. Or whatever. He had to focus and be ready to shoot.

Cold Eye sneaks ever so slightly closer, until she can make out a bit more. In front of her she can see two factions, on the leftern side three hulking brutes, whose grandfathers could quite possibly have had a fling for Ogrynladies. All three of them are packed with muscels to the brim and wear some primitive but nonetheless quite impressive metal-junk armor and heavy mauls. On their opposite site are three "normal" hive gangers armed with guns, the aforementioned militarum body to their feet. From the looks of it they were in the process of dragging him somewhere for whatever reason, before being jumped by the brutes who where trying to snatch away their plunder.
From this bit nearer, Cold eye also gets the distinct impression that the guy at the ground is in no good shape, quite possibly dead. At least that's no way or angle a leg should look like and he doesn't move at all.

Currently both gangs are still just shouting threats at each other, and her experience tells cold eye, that the smaller gangers don't really trust there chances here, but as the brutes are hesitant too, both are caught in a stalemate that's only waiting to be broke as soon as someone flinches.

Cold Eyes slinks back to the Star and fills him in on what she saw.

"Not our biz. We keep going?" she gestured with walking fingers.

She hoped to avoid getting involved with every conflict between here and the bottom of the Sump. However, she wasn't the one leading this party.

Gaston cries out to her in a whisper: "Are you certain that he is dead?". He still doesn't really want to potentially leave a comrade, but he thinks, if that were a trap, she would probably have reported the very opposite to get them jumping into the lion's maw. Well, it still remained the possibility that this was a preliminary event to the trap to make them at ease, but he doubted the underhivers would go to such length in an environment that was theirs. Keeping his rifle in the dangerous direction as per his training, he grunted:

"I hope she's not playing around with us, l'oeil de lynx, là". As usual, in kallenese, as he always did when frustrated. Truth be told, he spoke even high gothic with a strange set of intonations and stressing typical of kallenese langage.

"We're ready to leave John, but we're in good position to run through, your call.".

The whole thing didn't sit well with John Trader. Their guide had scoped out a situation between two gangs but it was impossible to figure out from the description if the dead body was actually dead. A deep seated anger began to stir within him.

"You heard the guide. The corpse, if it IS a corpse, has a militarum uniform. We might be down deep lads, but this is still OUR HIVE. We don't let these animals take our own away like that."

"Just follow my lead and get ready to fight."

John drew his auto pistol took a crouching position behind a piece of cover. Using his helmet microphone, he projected the following message very loudly.

"THIS IS THE LEX. WITHDRAW FROM THE BODY IMMEDIATELY OR FACE EXECUTION."

[Interaction attack to make the enemies subject to vulnerable condition if they choose to fight. I get 3 successes but the wrath die comes up as a 1]

Gaston and his men lighted up their flashlight and took their aim back. They look for the possibly biggest threat first, in their case, the one that has got ranges weaponry and could tear them apart from afar. But before that, he made sure to grip cold eye by the collar, drag her under cover with them, a few meters in front of them, and said: "you stay there, if anyone gets too close, shotgun it to the warp, you know the drill."

The mix of fear, Kallenese accent, and excitement that distorted his speech made for a very strange sounding high gothic and it wasn't sure cold eye would understand. Gaston sweated and shook heavily. This was his test now, his first axtuall skirmish, with actual opponents. His brain more or less stopped working and years of training took this vacant place now as adrenaline pumped hard in his veins... A quick Aquila sign between two short breaths, and it was about to get going.

John Traders Voice booms through the darkness, momentarily blurring out the heavy pumping of machinery heard from the background. The Gangers in front of you turn around surprised, immediatly hunkering down a bit and stepping away from each other suspecting a trap just like you did. "Its da friggin Pigs!" one of the more normal looking gangers shouts, when most of the Soldiers around Gaston light up their flashlights. As it becomes obvious how many you are and realizing that they would have to fight with two adversaries for their prize, most of the group with the guns decide to run for it and try to bolt, ducking away into the darkness - which doesn't necessarily mean you wouldn't be able to shoot them in the back, if you are so inclined.

Unfortunatly the other group, packed with bulging muscels and somewhat armored shouts in glee "It da fuggin Piggies! Cam on her, little piggies! Mes wants me sum bacon!", thumping their heavy mauls to the ground and getting ready to charge you! Now that you get a better look, you have your doubts on either their genetic purity or what chemicals they ingested, as they really look more than half Bullgryns than like humans. So even if you severely outnumber them and have the advantage of range right now, this is far from a easy encounter.

John realizes that one of the three has a somewhat brighter look in the eyes and some distinct markings on his ragtag armor lets him suspect that this one - lets call him Grog - is the leader.
Gaston on the other hand registers the Chestarmor of the left one - Mog - to be only loosely attached by a leather string to his left shoulder. An aimed shot might just pull it down, opening him up for an easier takedown.
Cold Eyes attention focusses a bit differently right now and she realizes that the heap of debris, Gaston pushed her down to for cover is quite a good sight obstacle leading around the arising encounter and that she might have a shot at sneaking around the three brutes and get in their backs - if she so desires. Or alternatively to hide away should this go southways without being detected by them.
All three of you also had a glimpse in the lamplight, that the third one - Zog - has three big and cruel looking grenades hung from his belt and is reaching for one right now. In between them knowing and using the cover provided by the terrain here, you should be able to get at least one or two good shots at them before they reach you, but then it might already get into bloody melee.

"Fethin punks."

John growls under his breathe as he sees the response of the ogyrns.


John shifts his autopistol in the direction of the ogyryns and immediately opens fire, full auto directly into the one he perceives as the leader, he empties the entire magazine in one go, holding the gun steady as he does so.

[Used salvo option to get 2 extra dice. Got 6 successes total, 4 successes from exalted icons, will use any additional shifts for extra damage]

Johns shot is right on target, peppering the Brute with autpistol bullets. But amidst him ducking and jumping forward, the Enforcer misses Grogs unarmored parts and most of the impacts just scrach the paint in his thick armorplates or leaves some cuts that don't seem to hinder him that much. The Brutes get some steps closer though...

Cold Eye sees that these are 'Roid Gangers, and she wants nothing to do with them. Shots start ringing out, and Cold Eye realizes she wants to get wide of the fighting. She quickly scurries around behind the cover, her Shotgun held loosely in her off-hand as she maneuvered around through the underhive to get behind these big boyz. For the most part, she was focused on keeping her head down as she hustled out of the line-of-fire and out of sight.

Amidst the mayhem, Gaston empties his clip in a wild volley, when the sargent suddenly slaps him back to his senses "Gaston, abruti, they're legging it, all teams, on the coming ones, from left to right, short bursts, fire!"

Gaston, with trembling limbs shaking out of control, painfully manages to reload under cover, before emerging back and shorting what only he probably called a "short" burst at the leftest monster rushing towards them, ready to aim at those other ones coming dangerously close should that damn brute finally lay done. He heard the sargent yell yet again "alpha, fix bayonets, get ready!". But Gaston is bravo team, so he keeps squeezing the trigger...

Even though not trained in coherent fighting, the whole mixed group of volunteers under Johns Command raises their lasguns in unisono and peppers the charging brutes with shots, focussing on the one priming the grenade for now. The hail of lasbolts slams into his armor uselessly, but soon the often underestimated quality of the humble lasguns shows itself... there where just so many of them. Where 10 shots fail, 2 or three do slam through chunks and slits, burning flesh and suddenly the brutes knees seem to get weak and shaky. Still running like a drunkard, he drops his maul and puts his hand to his neck, were one of the lasbolts has penetrated and burst some artery. Thick, bright red blut sprays through a wound and he coughs of blood, finally going to the ground. He tries to throw his grenade, but it only roles a mere meter from him, as he falls down, dowing nothing more than turning his thick skull into paste.


Gaston ducks out of cover, white as chalk and lets loose with his lasgun in his "short burst", until the tip of the barrel already starts glowin a dark red and steam forms were waterdrops from the ceiling hits it. Quite to his surprise and amazement... his panicked shot is quite effective. Most of the lasbolts miraculously hit the second brute in the joints and other weakpoints of his armor and while none of them are directly deadly, the sheer amount of torn away, exploded, burned and chared flesh let him collaps with a painridden groan only 2 yards in front of the Kallenese Soldier.

That leaves only the leader of the trio, now charging right into your mob and before you even know it he outright smashed one of the PDF soldiers that volunteered to pulp with his heavy maul, swinging wildly after the others who are on the brink of breaking. Gaston, the sergant, Rho-453-Sigma and John hold steady, but the others are not trained enough to build two teams, one keeping him busy with bayonets, to keep the others firing.
The brute itself seems madded with rage, his vision seemingly blurry from his bloodshot eyes. For a moment you can see some tubings pumping strange fluids into his neck and John might suspect that he took some combat drug.
Just this moment Cold Eye rounds the corner and reappears in the back of Grog.

"You are going to pay for that." John grumbles as he watches the large brute charge into the mob of PDF soldiers.

John holsters his pistol and breaks out the shock maul, then charges in, slamming the thing hard in the back.

Johns shockmaul slamms into his targets side and the stink of ozon fills the air as crackling sparks of lighting flow from its powered tip into the metal plat at his shoulder. But the hulking giant is a tough one indeed and still seems rather unaffected by the attack that would have brought a normal man down. But at least the electricity makes the muscles in his arm spasm for a moment, enough to throw his next attack of, so instead of taking the heads of another three of your company in a wide swing, he only grazes one of them at the helmet, throwing him to the side desoriented but alive.

As Gaston's lasgun runs out of power and makes a distinctive "tac tac" of the trigger uselessly hitting the back of its slot, he tried to make a few steps backwards, and fell, still chalk white, just to see one of his comrades smashed to atoms by the brute, and John having at it with its maul. "Merde", he groaned, dizzy, but still feeling like in a dream state, somewhat unreal. Their formation was more or less broken as the brute rampaged left and right and had made some others fall on the back too.

"Bordel, what's cold eye playing eye?" He swore in kallenese, not seeing her anywhere to help them out. Gaston scrambled to catch his rifle again and reload, frantically, and when he finally made it, he plugged another power pack into the socket, and crouched back into cover, squatting behind a pile of debris de brute had flung sideways as he charged. As usual in his native tongue, he shouted "Sergeant, what do I do?" But that's the moment he realised who had just been smashed into pieces by the brute: the sergent.

Mechanically, he took his rifle again, and from his cover, called his comrades to rally to him. This was more of a self preservation attempt than heroic taking up of command: he apparently reckoned that somewhat grouped, he would at least stand better chances. He repeteas the words of the deceased sergent: "Alpha, fix bayonets, forward, Bravo, at my commend short burst"!

While still very much shaken from the chaotic fight, Gastons calls manage to rattle his comrades up a bit, at least enough to not outright panic and somewhat fight back against the brute. The melee get really thick, with half of them slashing and stabbing their bajonets trying to lodge them in between the armor plates, while the others pepper him with lasbolts, focussing to get through his eyeslits - to no effect yet, but hopefully the decisive lucky shot will get through soon. "HE'S NOT GOING DOWN!" a chalky white PDF soldier cries, his voice almost breaking, but for now your squad at least keeps the brute occupied.

[I'm assuming Cold Eye is staying out of the fight so I'll narrate John's next attack]


"Time to end this! John shouts and then uses two hands to bash the giant creature with the shock maul as hard as he can.




John willed a silent prayer to the Emperor that his attack would finally be able to bring the creature down.

Johns shockmaul slamms into the brutes back another time and as the electric energy sparks across the metal plates at his chest, enough of it enters the body to do some effect. With a painfull groan, one knee of the berserk suddenly gets shaky and he half stumbles, half falls to the ground. Even if it is just a moment of weakness, the battered search squad immediatly swarm him, stabbing, punching and slamming him with their rifle buts while shooting from point blank, until their assailant finally draws his last breath.
Standing over the three dead bodies most of you look rather shaken, likely the few exceptions being John and Cold Eye who had their fair share of underhive experiences already as well as Rho-453-Sigma, whose emotions are hard to read underneath her augmetics.

As you gather around, you close in on the body in the militarum uniform and it is easy to see that the woman is very much dead and far beyond any point of saving. Your finding is an important sign of hope still, as a rough inspection tells you, that she died by a gunshot wound which means she must have survived the immediate fall. And as her livery identifies her as member of the command staff it was likely that she had been somewhere on the same levels of the spire as governor Loisy. And as if that wasn't already enough, Rho has some even better news, as she takes the battered remains of an auspex from the corpses hip, soothing the poor dying machine spirit with a binary chant and connecting some wires comming out of her wrist with it. Columns of numbers and letters run across her left eye in a ghostly green light - you only now realize it must be an augmetic too - and with a mechanical voice she announces "This sacred machine spirit detected weak vital signs of Governor Loisy. Time stamp: -37 hours. Distance: 500 yards. At that space-time coordinates, governor was still alive." In other words: wherever that woman you found was 37 hours ago, the governor was not far away and alive...

After the Ogyrn finally falls John takes a moment to collect himself and take stock of the situation. He holsters his weapons and looks around.

He double checks the auspex readings and furrows his brow in thought.

After a long pause he finally speaks: "If he's alive, we've got to keep going."

But then he looks back to the injured and slain soldiers, then back to the body of the fallen commander.

"Some of you will have to head back. The bodies will need to be buried, and the wounded tended to. You'll also have to update command. Vox is next to worthless this far down."

He looks at the PDF Seargent. "I'll need at least one volunteer to go with me and our guide to continue the search."

Gaston was not really completly in control of himself yet, his brain failing to process all what had happened. Disorientated, he walked back and forth to his dead comrades and the woman, then circling around the brute his shot brought low. He couldn't just accept that it was true, that he nearly died, but came out on top somehow. He didn't seem to be able to catch what it meant that he had killed twice already, and how real it had become, unlike training. How unprepared he was, also.

He threw his helmet on the ground loudly, and sat down a little, eyes hollow. Nobody seemed to care, apart from another soldier, Jean, who had already seen battle before and came to encourage him with a fatherly pat on the shoulder and well picked word. Gaston just kept staring into the darkness. Suddenly, from afar, he heard John's voice asking for a volunteer. At that mention, he rose up, painstakingly, knees still shaking and half chalk white still, and his broken, accent tinted voice answered: "I'll go. We need to find the governor. I'll go.".

For all his helplessness and his hard time coping with what he just lived through, Gaston's resolve was unyielding. In fact, now, searching for the governor eclisped everything else, and kept him focused enough for him to take a hold of himself... Hopefully.

John regards Gaston and nods his head.

"Alright then. No heroics though. Just keep following my lead and you might make it out of here alive."

The enforcer smirked beneath his helmet as he observed Cold Eye, and then pointed to the auspex now held by the tech adept.

His voice turned rather nasty with the underhiver: "That's a nice shiny auspex we found. If you had decided to help out in the fight it would have been yours, but you missed out. So next time, if you want to earn some loot, DO MORE."

He then angled himself toward the direction the auspex was pinging from. "Ok, 500 yards. Let's move."

Loot was no good if you were dead. Cold Eye had skulked around enough to know that her scattergun was no match against those brutes. Sometimes, it was best to avoid a fight; or better yet let others do it for you. However, she decided it was best to just shrug passively at the Star. No need to get them worked up.

She didn't know much about coordinates, and 500 yards in the underhive could be a short walk or a long treacherous journey. Hard to tell really.

She glanced down at the dead woman, apparently another Uphiver from the look of her. She Nosed around where the body way, and scampered hither and yon looking at where the gangers had brought her from.

Cold Eye might not know nevermind about fancy coordinates, but she could lookie-look and see where those scummers had pulled this meat from. It was all written across the sump, a track here, some fabric there, a smear further on, a smell on the wind. Anyone with half a Throne's sense could do have followed this trail. Probably what brought those Roid-gangers to those skumbos in the first place?

As Rho clarifies the governor was not really 500 yards away, but he had been 500 yards away from the womans corps 37 hours ago. And as Coldeye correctly "reads" from the traces of different dirt, dust and smut on her uniform, she had been dragged upwards from quite some way deeper in the underhive, not too far from the sump. Realistically you are likely looking at at least 2 or three miles if you could go directly which in Coldeyes Experience might mean 2 to 4 days depending on how careful you want to move. At least your tracker had quite a good idea where to start and is confident to get you close enough that the Auspex might pick up something again.

As John asks for volunteers to head deeper into the sump and others to bring the wounded and the corps back to the surface, about half of your group take the opportunity to turn arround. They seem still quite shocked by the events, realizing only now what they got themselves into. This was quite something different then basic training in the PDF.
In the end the group heading deeper consists of John, Gaston, Cold Eye, Rho and a young volunteer whose robe identifies him as a flagelant of the church of him on earth. The later had the very determined but somewhat distant, feverish look on his face, that you have seen before in devout followers of the faith. Rho on the other hand had raised her hand mechanically, seemingly without her head noticing, once again letting you muse about how far the freedom of individual thought really reached within the Mechanicum.

As the others bide their farewell and head back to the upper hive, you take a last look at the bodies of the brutes you just vanquished and find the grenade one of them had been trying to prime, the pin still inside. It is a large and bulky frag grenade, to big to really throw a safe distance, but maybe a situation will come up where it will serve you well. Cold Eye finds at least some knifes made from solid steel - nothing special in the eyes of the uphivers, but a valuable trading good in the sump.


Finally you continue your journey into the darkness, spiralling away into the depths of the hive. As the thumbing of heavy machinery slowly vanishes in the background, other noises appear and disappear perriodically. Echo and sound play strange tricks between the chaotic sprawl of rockcrete and debris and it might be just that, but now and then these sounds remind you a lot of something large and animalistic, as if a whole ecosystem was crawling around down here, hunting for pray and fighting for territories amongst the darkness. Of course there should not be much living around here except of humans - at least that is what the uphivers thought, while Cold Eye knew better - but even then, there is little scarrier and more animalistic than some of the canibalistic tribes thriving in the dephts...

Cold Eye doesn't have too much trouble guiding you, but after a while you find yourself in front of a set of passageways, marked with lots of grafiti and gang signs. Cold Eye suspects that three of those could bring you towards your destination, but each of them has their own risks...

the lefternmost is marked with signs of the Bloody Brotherhood - an established gang and as the name suggested one of the more bloodthirsty ones. John new from earlier encounters that they had a lot of beef with the PDF and the Churches Enforcers, on the other hand in contrast to their name they were one of the more rational gangs and not opposed to a good deal. The biggest problem being that you were quite short of bargaining chips to broker one.

The middle path lead into what was once the centre of the Zarabastas, the most powerful gang that had called the shots for decades but was all but obliterated by the falling spire forming the chasm. Gaston had heard rumors about it amongst the PDF soldiers, that even the Zarabastas that had survived the catastrophy had been hunted down to a man, when their neighbours used the opportunity to settle some scores. Which meant this way might be surprisingly free of organized opposition, but also that you might get caught in between the inevitable turf wars of other gangs trying to devide the no mans land between them.

The right path lead into a section of the underhive of which Cold Eye had heard that non of the Gangs had occupied for years. Only rumors were whispered about the reasons. Strange things happened there, people disappearing without a trace - more people than normal that is. Strange lights in the dark, rats the size of large dogs, and madness sprawling around those that dared to overstay their welcome in this strange place.


You will have to choose which way to go...

John left the grenade for one of the PDF soldiers to take before starting out on the long trek.

He was largely silent during the long journey deeper into the under hive. He did his best to conserve his energy and stay focused, occasionally stopping to slurp some water from a portable bottle.

Upon seeing the fork in the road, he immediately stops to take it all in.

He looks out on the three tunnels. "Looks like three bad choices to me, and a hell of a way to get lost."

He looks back to the Tech Priest again. "We're not down here to chase ghosts. We need a solid lead. Some kind of clue before we commit. What's that auspex's machine spirit saying about it? Does it know where the Gov might be and which tunnel gets us to him?"

He then looks to Cold Eye next. "We're paying you to get us through this safely. So now's the time to speak up."

While John converses with the techpriest, Gaston walks up to Cold Eye. He had heard of that Zarabastas and as far as he knew, bit only where they no longer the biggest thread, but, in addition, their territory was more or less directly under the HQ and thus, it was highly plausible, in his mind, that Loisy could have been dropped there, or that members of the Zarabastas could have been the ones to lay their hand on him.

He presents his suggestions to the guide, trying his best to suppress his accent and being forced to say again several times for the underhiver to understand every necessary piece of it. Then he asks:

"Do you know anything about that? Whether it's true or not? Otherwise, I reckon.we should propose John to go that path."

Cold Eye shrugged, not willing to commit to much. Afterall, she didn't know too much about it herself. She had travelled up from much deeper, but had not gotten that involved with the people and places on the way. She just stuck around long enough to trade some hides and moved on.

As the young soldier approached her, she leaned closer to him and smelled him. He smelled of gun oil and fresh fabric. His face was clean shaven, and she marveled at how clear his complexion was.

She pointed to the middle corridor, "That one has changed the most. New turf, new faces, and new paths. Most likely for an outsider to show-up."

She then gestured down the left-most pass and made the sign of the Great Sumphawk, the ever-vigilant protector of her people. He sometimes intervened for his own reasons, and was a ward against bad vibes. "That way is no-go, bad mojo and nothing good.
We should avoid."

Satisfied with her own guidance, she waited for the uphivers to make up their minds.

Gaston, in turn, spoke to John:

"John, of the farthest right passage is under control of a powerful gang, I doubt we will actually survive heading this way. We've heard in the defense forces that the Zarabastas supposedly more or less ceased to exist as a group, and that they were active almost right under the HQ... I bet we have got our best chances if you go this way.".

In fact, this promised both the better location to search and the least fights, he hoped, as while he was recovering from the first skirmish a little, he clearly wasn't excited at the sought of diving in again just yet.
In addition, being quite religious himself, he trusted that yes, strange things could happen that couldn't be dealt with, so maybe, the guide was right on this, judging by the expression of pure terror that struck itself on her face...

John nodded his head slightly to Cold Eye and Gaston.

"Let's hope the rumors are true then."

He looked back to Cold Eye. "We'll take the middle tunnel then, nice and slow. Cold Eye will take the lead and scout out ahead of the rest of us. She sees any danger, let us know."

Cold Eye nodded, relieved to be taking the new route. Sure, new meant unexpected dangers; but she liked their chances at unexpected dangers better than the known dangers of the other two routes.

She harnessed her scatter gun, secured it tight, and drew one of her steel knives. After a quick check to make sure she was locked down, she slid into the darkness ahead.

Gaston was content that they choose this path, as, really, he hoped they'd actually be able to find something about the governor, yet, something was very unnerving for him. At first, he thought it was due to the skirmish prior to teir arrival at the crossroads, but actually, it was simply good old fashion fear puncturing his stomach and making him worried of of any shadow that remotly seemed to move or whisper, or look at them. His lasgun was already constantly sweeping, in a manner that surely, looked professional to outside viewers, but truly, it was just him be afraid and ready to fight for his life at any turn. Already, before they even entered the tunnel proper, just as John was still talking, he had been a millisecond to unleashing a volley into a lamp that dimly flashed every few minutes when he heard things like steps from that direction.

He lowered the lasgun, and gestured that the PDF squad was ready to follow Cold eye's lead...

When John had asked Rho if the Auspex revealed anything new, the Admechette shook her head "Negative, data compromised, receivers damaged... calculating... Current position definitly closer than before. Need to go deeper..."
The soldiers returning back up had been grateful for the grenade left to them and salute one more time before heading back to safety, promising to get the message back to base, that some trace of Governour Loisy surviving the initital catastrophy had been found in Sector 12-76, the one you had been assigned to.


Choosing between your three options, you rely on Cold Eyes recommendation and choose the former hideout of the Zarabastras. While you considered which way to go, Kevin, the Ecclesiarchy lay-servant that was still with you had been fervently praying, repeating a high gothic sermon over and over again while handling a small rosarious with wodden pearls - a prayer for each pearl. His look often seemed a bit unfocussed or rather, focussed on some other world, that non of you were really able to see, or comfortable with. In a strange way he wasn't really that different from Rho, their obsessions and obligations just leashed to a different master.


As you enter the passage you have chosen, you are soon greated be the distinctive smell of burned stuff - fabric, wood, oil, hair, flesh... Here and there some fires were still burning or at least ambers glimmering and you notice several corpses just lying in the streats. Mostly gangers with some odd bystanders that had been caught in the middle of the turf wars. But overall as you carefully sneak along, you do not encounter any opposition and hardly anything living at all. Some distance off - and with the tricks sounds play down here it is hard to say if that meant below, above or in front of you - you make out the sound of sporading firefights, but not more than would be expected in the current situation. The ground here is mostly rockcrete, at some places cracked by the forces of the collaps, but still going strong and you would expect that the hives integrity is not really damaged. But also that borrowing through the floors of the Underhive would be futile and that vox communication to the upper levels will likely be a no go, if you go any deeper.

Cold Eye manages to lead you closer to your destination, judging by the traces she had found at the corps and she would expect that she should find the way up until the place the Auspex had picked up the signal. But as the current waking cycle draws closer to its end and you start feeling the need for a rest, a bad feeling starts to form. You can't really grasp it, but John and Cold Eye get the distinct feeling that ... something ... is following you. And your intutition tells you that it might not be something sapient, but nonetheless pretty dangerous and lethal.
Rho, Kevin and Gaston are oblivous of that suspicion right now, unless you share it with them and just happy, that your travel so far has been rather uneventfull.

Soon a good place for a camp appears in form rend in some giant pillar holding up the Hives Macro structure, opening a rift that looks tiny in the giant column but would easily accomodate you, while shielding a potential fire from spying eyes. Having only one exit it would be easy to defend, but also a deathtrap if anything went wrong. You could search some more of course or try to march on, but while she doesn't say anything it is obvious that Rho needs some rest. Whatever you choose to do, John and Cold Eye keep feeling the gaze of some predator in their neck, lurking somewhere in the darkness...

Cold Eye has felt this uncomfortable feeling before. It was a too common one when stalking Sump Lizards. That feeling that you weren't the only one who was out hunting, and that other thing was hunting you. The trick was to not let it stop you from doing what you needed to do.

It was clear the Red Robed one needed some rest. All the tell-tale signs were there.

The Sump Hawk must have had an eye on this group, because she found a decent location to rest. It was sheltered, but also a dead-end. A good guard at the entrance would be needed.

Cold Eyes leaned into the Shield who seemed to be the boss She glanced over her shoulder at the little group, "They need a rest. But, we need be eyes up."

Cold Eye pointed out the crack in the column, "Good cover, but also a dead-end. Watch will need to stay eyes open and ears up. I will go first."

John nods to Cold Eye. His voice is almost a whisper as he speaks.

"Agreed, your first watch."

He motions for the group to go into the little opening and then proceeds to enter it, sweeping it over with his flashlight, auto gun drawn.

Once the coast is clear he slumps down and cracks open a canteen and a power bar.

John had hoped that a quick engagement with the criminal element would have ended the search early. "Engage some scum, find nothing, head back." He mutters very quietly to himself. Except the finding nothing part didn't happen."

Now he was in the thick of it...no easy way out now.

Gaston and his brothers in arms were exhausted. Even the veteran ones had sore arms from constantly sweeping up and down with their rifles and maglights, walking steadily to protect the group, and in unisson with Kevin, reciting.their own Kallenese prayers over and over again. They were unquiet, worried and actively searching for something that, they swore, they felt breathing down their necks, spying on them. They were appalled to understand that this was a feeling shared by all, even by John and Cold Eye who notably knew better and were far more experienced.in this environment.

Gaston himself, while the walk itself had been a tiresome endeavour, felt way worse from the fear and anxiety then from the physical exercice.

He noticed that the group stopped, and walked up to Cold Eye and John who apparently where discussing and setting up already. They were in a dead end, and Gaston didn't like making halts in dead ends. The basics of military training told him that whenever you make a pause, you need to make sure you've got an escape route.

"What's up here?" He asked. "We should not stay here too long, if we get attacked, we're trapped and as good as dead. We need to find another place with an escape route. As it is, gangers can literally siege us to starvation."

The veterans behind Gaston nodded in agreement, rifle.still.at.the ready.

Gaston understood that rest was needed for everyone. But this was too dangerous, he deemed.

But besides, he wanted to make one thing clear:

"Are you also feeling like something at our tail right now?"

John gestured for the soldiers to remain silent. Then once silence had fallen, he whispered, very slightly.

"No good choices here. We move forward, there is no guarantee we'll find a better place."

He gestures to a few observation points around the perimeter.

"Two PDF on watch then."

He then gestures to Cold Eye. "Scout a bit further, find a better place let us know eh?"

The scout just nodded. She was unsure if it was safer to be away from the group, alone or with them where all the prey was.

Gaston groaned. As did the rest of the troopers, and they formed a kallenese speaking circle to decide who would go at what time. They were extremely vexed at the disdainful dismissal from John, and Gaston was not least amongst them. Gaston, who was then reminded during the conversation that Cold Eye had just so happened to avoid the whole confrontation earlier with the brutes, was accused of intentionnaly dragging them into the dead end to spell their doom. And Gaston, still shakien from that skirmish, was not hard to convince that way. Besides, all of those weaklings from the ecclesiarchy and mars adepts were slowing them down at the worst time, and for a time, it was actively discussed whether they should moe or less round them up and go on anyways until they find a better place.

Gaston was getting somewhat heated up, but fear of his the consequences of frontally confroning the group right now was enough to convince him of not trying anything and playing along. The other soldiers, not to happy at this idea either, seemed to settle on the same thing, albeit groaning and swearing all they could, but it was obvious no actions would actually follow, further encouraging Gaston in biting his tongue and putting up. He racked his lasgun to restart the battery properly and, lasgun at the ready, started patrolling with another soldier, with all the skill and training they could muster, and especially trying to hear, rather than see, in the darkness that shrouded all.

Cold Eye scouted ahead a little bit, but no great alternative presented itself yet. There was a large crack in one of the gargantuan Rockcrete tiles that build the floor of this hive section, forming some kind of 2-3 meters deep trench like structure that would meet the PDF soldiers requirement of multiple, in this case three exits. But on the downside it was pretty narrow, only broad enough for two people going side by side or passing each other with some stretches just wide enough for one. And three exits also meant three entrances, as well as at least the possibility of a very adventurous predator getting close enough to try and snatch someone from above.

All other possible campsides were just more or less open ground with only one side protected by rubble.
It's up to her if she reports this back or gives the impression the first campside were the only one. While scouting ahead her instincts tell her that whatever was hunting was more interested in the larger group of humans or maybe it was just that she didn't smell that tasty - or that different from the sumprats crawling around here. But returning to the others the strange feeling of being watched remained.

While they waited for Cold Eyes return, Rho sat down, leaning against a wall and shut down - quite literally - all her joints and every muscle not involved in keeping her alive seemingly completely relaxing. Her head just dropping forward and to the side, some spittle drooling from her half open mouth, her breath slow to the point of barely existant. Kevin on the other hand eyed her with a mixture of nervousness and revulsion, always continouing his prayers over and over and over again and nibbling on some jerky like substance.

Gaston and the other two PDF-soldiers still with you watched the perimeter, their Lasguns at the ready. It was really dark down here, but with time, your eyes had at least started to adapt a little. An advantage that got immediatly lost, as soon as you switched on one of your flashlights. Something to keep in mind, as it might get in handy if you wanted to blind an inhabitant of this strange underworld.

John for himself listened carefully into the void and even if he never was totally sure of it, he believes to make out faint scratches here and there and the sound of pebbles rolling, as if triggered by a not so careful step. Might be it's just sumprats, might be it was something bigger moving very very carefully. Be it as it may, whatever caused this kept its distance for now, but it never really went away until Cold Eyes return.

The scout shouted out a quick warning before popping her head up. The last thing she needed was a jumpy uphiver blasting her head off when she came back to camp.

"Oi, scout in!"

With that, she clambered over some rockrete and scurried to the "safety" of the perimeter. She nodded to Gaston as she passed, but went up to the Shield John to report.

"Lot's of downhive ahead. I found a trench we could pile into.... but it had three entrances and no roof. Easy pickin's for a Dropfang there," she glanced around nervously. The sound of her own whispered voice seemed far too loud.

Her eyes settled on the Red Robe. She looked mostly dead. The scout jerked a thumb at the body, "I miss a dust-up? Robe O.K?"

John nodded his head. He was unhappy with the amount of noise they were making down here, particularly the Kallanese troopers, but at least it seemed that whatever predator was stalking them was keeping its distance for now.

He kept his voice low in response, barely a whisper just like before.

"Can't do three entrances. Better to stay put but keep up a heavy presence on the perimeter."

He gestured to the inside of the pillar. "You can rest. I'll take up the next watch."

John gestured to Gaston that one or two of them could take a break while he took up a post crouching low and keeping his auto pistol and shock maul both drawn and kept to his side.

Gaston had been peeking through the darkness for what seemed ages to him. He had been shouted at by his fellow, telling him to, for the love of the emperor, stop racking that on off lever and stop switching that safety notch.

Gaston felt unsure and unsafe. Really, in the deep darkness, he was wondering why in the world he had volunteered to go down that hellhole of a place. Yes, of course, out of admiration for the governor, but was he even alive still?. He shook his head and made a few steps sideways.

No, I'm better than that, I'm not leaving like a coward, I'm not. But. Still, why the heck. He felt like everyone else in this party made a goal of crawling under his skin the most, John with his self granted authority, that deceitful guide acting all useful but so far doing nothing else than not helping, or those weaklings there Rho and Kevin. Kevin was unnerving. He knew just as any other soldier from the lectures they were given than these guys from the ecclesiarchy were corrupt to the core and they caused all these creepy migrants showing up down here. Let him have a taste of what they did and throw this imbecile in the pit.

No really, this was horrible. Gaston at that very moment wanted nothing more than lie down, close his eyes shut, and pretend he hadn't made that mistake, and that was all a bad dream.

He stumbled over a price of debris that he failed to see, absorbed in his thoughts. He stayed lying where he was for a moment. Then, scratching noises made him fright. It sounded just as if it was approaching from several directions at once. And although this is most surely not what he was supposed to do per his training, he picked up his rifle, got on his feet, and rand like he'll back to the safety of the camp, from which, unwittingly, he had drifted away, as if swollen by the darkness.

But apparently, no one noticed. Or no one cared. Because neither John nor the other PDF soldier still on duty moved to check who he was.

Still trembling from the supposed encounter, Gaston felt compelled to report to John that advancing scratching noise...

John nodded his head glumly before whispering in the lowest possible voice as he gestured with a thumb toward the makeshift camp.

"Rest if you can. I'm not planning on staying here long. I'll take up watch."

John peered out in the direction of the scratching noise. His body was tense, but not paralyzed. He had spent enough time in the under hive to control the fear that could eat a man alive.

All the better so that he could watch out for actual things that could eat a man alive...

Gaston nodded and everso slowly went to somewhere to lie done. Having down this, he tried to close his eyes and rest, but he saw the brutes charge him back from the ceiling and woke up, lasgun pointed up to the upper debris.

He realised there was nothing. Nobody. And heart still beating crazy, he tried to sleep again, but this time, he couldn't seem to unhear the scratching noises, clawing their way towards his neck. That reminded him of the lectures they had had about ambull and Genestealers and such, and he viewed the images of the presentations take life and come for him.

Unable to actually rest, Gaston stood up, and went back on watch. He was growing extremely tired and unnerved, but it seemed to him that his comrades were just as tensed as he was, and reckoned he'd better keep it to himself yet.

Cold Eye awoke with a start as the young soldier jerk himself awake. Her knife was in her hand on instinct.

She could smell the fear sweats on him. That was no good, that was what got you dead down these ways.

"Aye, keep it together chum. We don't need more rumble." she hissed at the soldier.

She was relieved when he stood up and left. Maybe she could get some sleep!

Even though you take care to always have sentinels on alert, sleep is pretty hard to find, as the obscure thing lurking nearby and watching you keeps scittering in the dark. It's not like a constant sneaking around, just the odd little noise every now and then, when you almost settled down keeping you awake and raising hairs on your necks. In the constant darkness of the underhive, only lit by what you yourself ignite and devoid of the uphives standard 18 hours light-8 hours darkness day cycle, you can't really call it "a nights sleep", but after a fair amout of hours to get at least some rest, you decide to get up and carry on.

While your muscles and bones are at least somewhat rested from laying down, most of you still look very tired around the eyes and quite jumpy as you navigate the rubble field that was once the domain of the Zarabastas gang. Kevin for example has a nervous twitch around his left hand holding a small rosarius - the ornamental chain of wooden pearls, not the archeotech device - that is rattling a little bit whenever his hand twitches. The only one really rested seems to be Rho who had shut down completely during your rest.

At least you loose the destinct sense of being watched or crept in on after a while, but can't totally shake the feeling of beeing watched from a distance. After 5 hours or so, you approach another a fork in the rough path you had been taking. While Cold-Eye has somewhat of a rough impression where to go from here, something else catches her eye. There is someone hiding in the rubble near the crossroads - and not being very good at it. If she would have to guess she would assume it's a single human...oid that is perched behind a big slap of rockcrete. He seems to be alone though and if that is supposed to be an ambush he/she/it and potential friends could have chosen a much better place a couple of yards back or forth. Hard to tell the meaning of that right now.

Cold-Eye uses a hand signal to take cover and hush-up. She gestures back to group, pointing out the location of the unknown and then indicating she has eyes on them.

She glances back at the group, looking for some signal on how they want to proceed.

Waiting for the others to respond, Cold Eye can narrow the idenity of the hidden figure down a bit. It seems to be human and from it's breathing it is scared. While it seems completely focussed on hiding and sitting out the approaching danger - your group - it is not very adept at it, so at least when you would have passed, you should have spotted it. It's too dark to make out more at the moment, but Cold Eyes instincts tell her, that the hidden person is alone at its spot, and that there is no one else around in the immediate vicinity.

Gaston sort of wakes up. Not that he had fallen asleep walking, but it was just as good as if he had. He noticed that all the others had taken position in 360 watch. He thinks about crouching and scanning the premises as well, but sees Cold Eye gesturing, and, in turn quietly -well, that is, as quietly as he could- moved to have a look at what she was pointing. For some reason, when he saw the silhouette, he felt as if it had seen him in return and elevated just in case. But no movement. Arms counts wasn't off. Eyes not unnaturally glowing or anything. apparently no gun. So far so good.

He lowered his guard, and hand waved to Cold Eye "we go try to talk?".

Cold Eye shrugged and glanced to John.

She carefully slung her shotgun to be less threatening, but kept her hand hovering near one of her steel knives. Based on what had happened so far, she expected the group to want her to go forward and talk to this shade. Why they assumed they weren't one of them, she wasn't sure, and wasn't going to ask. She wasn't sure if these Up-hivers expected her to do all the dirty work or not?

John nods to Cold Eye, even as he draw his auto pistol. He keeps his lumen off for now, not wanting to ruin his night vision and expose his position.

"Aye, find out what you can and report back."

Cold Eye nods, and starts to creep forward slowly. She keeps her knife hand hovering near her steel.

She moves to within talking distance, takes cover, and hisses; "Whoever you are by the rock, you aren't foolin' nuttin'. Come out real slow like and let me have a look at ya. I don't have time for no trouble."

Gaston doesn't really knows how to act. Seems like cold eye is indeed on her way to pourparleys, and he wouldn't like to botch that. But there is no way the thing that had been making that rattling noise and spying on them will be allowed to use that at his advantages, or that he will be caught unaware in an ambush yet again. He waves his hand towards the other soldiers. Gaston and his fellows scan the darkness...

(Perception roll or something?).

Cold Eye can hear an almost rodent like squeal, before a pair of small, grubby hands appears behind the rubble "Please! Please don't shoot me! I just want to go home!" a small female voice replies before the figure slowly crawls out from its hiding place. Upon closer inspection you believe to make out most of a simple Administratum clerk uniform underneath a heavy layer of dirt, mud and filth. It seems to be a young woman, her long brunette hair caked with dirt like the rest of her, battered and wounded with some improvised bandages that she applied as best as she could herself. She is unarmed, apart from a sharp piece of metal that she throws to the ground as she faces a whole lot of guns in front of her.

As she recognizes Gastons and Johns uniforms tears well up in her eyes, flowing down her face, painting little lines into the sooth, while her body is shaken from her sobbing "Thank the emperor!" she exclaimes. Unless they make an effort of keeping her from it, she closes in on John or Gaston, falling into your arms crying.
From the pins on her uniform you can make out that she worked in Loisys command bunker. For the moment she seems to overwhelmed to introduce herself, but as soon as you ask her she absent mindedly says "Kara... Kara Locklear."

Gaston pats the woman on the shoulder, trying to sound as reassuring as he could being himself in absolut stress and terror of a potential trap. He tries to talk to her in Kallenese to make her more at ease, as it is statistically highly probable. He asks what, were, and when, her own whereabouts and that of Colonel Loisy.

(Does she speak kallenese and does it make it easier to get inforlation from her?)

Cold Eye decides now is the time to keep to herself and let the others gather some info. She begins investigating a way forward for the crew, while they deal with this new Uphiver.

Kara does indeed speak fluent Kallenese, even though it doesn't seem to be her native tongue. But she seems to be more at ease talking to Gaston then to Cold Eye who keeps her distance anyway. Regarding the Guardsmans questions she answers as good as she can, but unsurprisingly her remarks are not that helpful. The last thing she remembers before the catastrophy was standing at the recaf-dispenser filling up her mug, as the world around her was suddenly drowned in fire, smoke, deafening noise and darkness. Next thing she conciously remembers is herself stumbling through some dark passageways in the underhive, bleeding into some bandages. Her memory of details of the last days is foggy at best as she is obviously shocked and might have suffered a concussion. While she tried to avoid any downhivers as good as she could, she hesitantly stutters about some fuzzy memory of fighting someone of with her improvised shiv - a sharp long shard of metal that she threw on the ground before and which - on closer inspection - is cacked with dried blood.

Unfortunatly she has neither seen nor heard of Loisy. "Can we go home now? Please?! I'll do whatever it takes!" she begs, looking at Gaston with big beseeching eyes while clinging to his chest - not really an uncomfortable feeling to say the least.

for Cold Eye

for John

Cold Eye half-listens to the women's story. She snorts a bit at the thought of her fighting off anyone.

She leans into the Badge, "This smells like a carcass left in the gutter too long."

After saying her peace, the scout moves out from the group and starts surveying the land, looking for any sign of where to go next. It was obvious that their newest party member was not going to be able to help with that.

Gaston was confused and frankly kind of helpless. While his mind was mostly focused on the mission, on his misery, on the principles as a soldier he was clinging to not to slip into panic or madness, he wasn't yet so far gone as to ignore Kara's plea for help. Although it was not far, as the thought of shooting her on the spot and carrying on flew through his mind, but he shook it away and tightened his embrace on the broken woman, somehow seeking some solace for himself. But after a few moments, he resorted to what a helpless soldiers resorts: ask the others so they he bears little responsibility on what's happening next.

Kallenese speech yet again resonated in the underhive, as they debated what to do with her. Gaston fiercely held to what he had already said earlier, when they found the corpse in imperial uniform: soldiers do not abandon their own.

While he wouldn't speak of it, Gaston also couldn't accept that Kara's story was far fetch. It did seem so, it did. And their was things that bothered him too: what if she was one of those Genestealers that dwelt in the underhive, he was taught? He peered deep into Kara's eyes, but saw nothing that alerted him. The colonel always said. It is the eyes. Not here at least.
Or was it an ambush nonetheless? He shook his head again. Either treachery, or it was true. If not, then though he was a great warrior in his own right, how would Loisy himself have survived? If he admitted that Kara couldn't, then the whole point of this mission disappeared and he had been brought on the brink of madness for naught. Nah, he thought, she must tell the truth...

(Asking to know what the other soldiers say before I actually do something).

John regarded the survivor with pursed lips and pensive thought.

"You are the first survivor we've found. That's quite a miraculous turn of events."

He looked at the group before him, trying to judge the best course of action.

Eventually he looks over to Gaston and speaks quietly in a hushed voice. "It's going to get harder for us the further we go in. More people will mean more noise, and this woman is going to either slow us down or get us killed."

"But still, the mission was to find survivor and we've found one."

"Gaston, Cold Eye, myself and the Tech Adept. The four of us will continue the search. The survivor should be escorted back to the surface along with you two." He gestures to the two remaining PDF soldiers. "But I'll want that spare grenade."

Then he looks to Gaston and Cold Eye. "We'll keep going as long as it's feasible, but let me make myself clear. This isn't a suicide mission. If we reach a point where it's not feasible to continue, than we'll head back with the rest. Once command knows that a VIP may be down here, then this place will be swarming with search parties in no time anyway. There's no shame in being cautious."

Cold Eye smirked. No shame indeed. Most stuff don't mean much if you're too dead to enjoy it.

She looked at Gaston, he was obviously nervous and didn't like it down hive, she leaned close to the Badge, "Maybe he help pretty lady back too? No like it in low dark,". She jerked her thumb towards the ceiling for emphasis.

Gaston was relieved. He had saved face because John agreed with him, and he didn't bear any responsibility for what flows from losing two soldiers.

At the same time, he was kind of worried that he'd now face everything alone. Because well, he can't say he was really good friends with John, and certainly not with Cold Eye. He wondered what they were thinking of him in return. After all, he was a definitely a signals operator, not a true warrior. Anyway. He added nothing, patted Kara, shook hands with his fellow soldiers, and and racked his lasgun.

He then walked everso painfully up to John and Cold Eye, and with hollow eyes, gestured that he was ready to go downwards into the hive.

 Easy E wrote:
Cold Eye smirked. No shame indeed. Most stuff don't mean much if you're too dead to enjoy it.

She looked at Gaston, he was obviously nervous and didn't like it down hive, she leaned close to the Badge, "Maybe he help pretty lady back too? No like it in low dark,". She jerked her thumb towards the ceiling for emphasis.

John shook his head before answering Cold Eye. "Nah...the kid is ready for this. He is going to do just fine."

John looked over to Gaston and nodded his head then gestured out into the darkness. "Let's move."

The grizzled enforcer was doing his best to put on a show and keep up the facade that he really wanted this mission to succeed. The reality was he wanted to live. But cowardice was heresy, and that was also a quick road to the grave.

The other soldiers that Gaston adresses seem equally undecided about what to do with Kara - who did not seem to pleased as Gaston pulled away from her to confer with his peers. Something that does not go unnoticed and earns the young soldier a slightly envyous look from his colleague Jacques. Overall they too seem to consider if it makes sense to take her with you. On the one side after getting that far down into the hive it would be efficient to say the least to collect more then one body and potential survivor before returning. On the other hand Kara would likely be a hindrance and of course they would not be terribly sorry to return to the upper layers of the hive.

Then John kind of breaks the gridlock as he orders some of them to return to the surface. "Sir, do you think it wise to move on in such a small group?" Kevin douptfully remarks and he does have a point. On the other hand continuing as a small fire team would make it tremendously easier to remain hidden and sneak your way around.

Be it as it may, the decision is made and while the four of you continue deeper into the sump, the other Kallinese start on their way with Kara. The women thanks you again, specifically Gaston, but as they depart you can see that she already shelters close to the side of Jacques, who grins back at Gaston. As long as you can still hold radio contact you hear them making good way, but finally nothing than static remains in your combeads.


[Upon returning Kara will be picked up by one of the bioscanners set up by the Adeptus Mechanicus and Administratum - as is Jacques who took his responsibility to stay close to her a little bit too liberal. A bullet dodged for Gaston and a lesson in the schemes of the genestealers...]



The four of you continue, navigating around obstacles to the best of your ability until finally Rho exclaims with a hushed, rasping mechanical voice "We must be close. The Machine spirit of the Auspex picks up a transponder signal. Somewhere around 200 metres..." a short distance on the upper layers, but in the chaotic, 3 dimensional labyrinth, that just narrows it down a bit.
A small distance in front of you, you can make out light and sound. If Cold Eye would have to guess she would put her money on some kind of market or trading post. Which means there are people - if you are a bit lenient with the definition of people. That could mean sources for information or maybe even the guy they were looking for himself, if they caught him. Could as well mean it is the last place they should look, as this big hat they were searching would avoid this, if he still moved himself.

John looks to Cold Eye.

"What's your take on this place?" He whispers quietly. "People that will deal with us or the sort that want to eat us...or worse?"

Gaston was at the back of the group, charging himself of rear surveillance as they went. Yet again, it was as good as if he were asleep, although he would react lighting fast to anything unusual, be it sound, light, or otherwise. He was thinking a lot, trying to catch some measure of self confidence, to no avail. He hadn't even noticed Jacques malicious grin. In fact, that whole affair with Kara flung him completely by. He was focussed on playing the soldier he was dressed as, and making sur nothing would set this mindset - or should he say, shelter- upside down. When he noticed that the group halted and that John was consorting with Cold eye, as per his training, he started scouting the place in circles wider and wider to make sure nothing, no remote detonated explosive, no ambush, no traces of someone, were threatening them. Especially from those damned Genestealers. Or more brutes.

He kept his flashlight shut so as not to render himself blind in the darkness. Everso carefully, painstakingly slowly, he went, step by step, scanning left, right, up and down...

Cold Eye shrugged. "Both? We need some hooks to reel. Better than wanderin' about we do now."

With that, she tried to move to a position where she could get a better look at the place, and gauge it's value.

John follows Cold Eye, keeping his auto gun drawn and fans out to get a closer look at the encampment and ascertain what sort of people...if they were even people, resided there.

Gaston didn't glaced at his comrades going downwards towards the light. He shrugged, and kept about what he was doing, stopping yet again to give a solid listen...

The trading post

You head out and reach a collection of hovels and small market stalls huddled around a stocky Rockcrete building looking like a cube of 6 yards side length. It is topped with arcane devices and antennae humming with electricity and from the looks of it it must belong to the foundation of the hive, likely playing some long forgotten role in its energy management. Whatever it does for the hive as a whole, here it is first and foremost a reliable source of energy and a myriad of powercables are hooked whereever it was feasible, drawing power for light and heat sources and all other needs a downhiver could have. The burned and crispy remains of some skeletons tell the story of some would be electricity thiefs that got unlucky or misjudged the amount of power running through these cables.
On top of that the walls of the cubic building are a good 4 foot thick with only small, slit like windows in the second story, so it is somewhat of a stronghold should anything attack the area. All together the reason why "Thunders Cradle" has established itself as trading post - the name shimmering on top of it in shaky neon sign letters.

The market is full with "people" of all types and colors and a concerning variety of shapes. But in contrast to your expectations they interact relatively peaceful, keeping the everpresent violence of the underhive down to the occasional shove, punch or kick to underline a point during the price haggling. As you enter you too seem to be covered under the umbrella of this precarious peace - helped by the fact that you are quite adequately armed. A bit unsure what type of clue to look for you drift through the crowd, as suddenly Rho makes a whiring sound of excitement noticing something on one of the stalls. As you join her you can identify a some shimering uniform buttons - and a generals rank pin. Gaston is sure of it, those are from the uniform jacket of Loisy himself and from the position on the stall John would suspect they were sold to the merchant very recently. The seller might even still be in the vicinity.

The trader at that stall is a saggy, old woman leaning towards fat, in baggy, sacklike clothing and with a sickly, greyish complexion. In the dim neon light Gaston would almost describe her skin as leaning towards a light purple shade, triggering his paranoia. Now it is up to you to discretely find out more about the whereabouts of the rank pins former owner

Cold Eye glanced meaningfully at the button, and then nodded towards John "The Badge".

Gaston finally catches up tontemhe rest, after having made damn sure the outskirts were not dangerous.

Upon finding Loisy's decorations, he gasps. Emperor, they probably ripped that from his corpse... He wouldn't willingly have given them alive,.he thought, yet clinging to the images he has got of his beloved leader to keep a goal and a little sanity.

But that's when he noticed the purple colour the woman had. And he was certain of it: Genestealers. He had been taught that again and again. He knew it without a shadow of a doubt.

Ragefully, yet silently, he caught John by the shoulder and uttered the single words: "Genestealer". "Purple". Saying it twice, once in Kallenese, then in accent heavy high gothic. "Eyes.".

His hands were tight around his rifle.

John nodded sullenly. Like a lot of the populace, John thought that the term "Genestealer" was just a Kallenese folk myth that stemmed from paranoia over mutation. Sure, the Kallenese descended colonists had passed down stories of alien horrors from other worlds, but all the human cultures that had come to live on this rock had similar enough stories. Why would the Kallanese stories be any more true than any of the other monster stories?

"Mutation is rife around here. We'll have to tolerate it for the time being." He mutters low under his breathe.

He turns back to the seller to address her.

"Oi, trader. These are some nice looking buttons. I might be willing to pay well for them. Where'd you get them from?"

Roll: Deception + fellowship: 2 successes. [Not going to waste wrath on social rolls lol]

Unsuccessful with raising John's awareness, Gaston grunts and tries to warn cold Eye that they should look out for "genestealer".

He draws him a precise image of what Genestealers are, how they live, what they do, and about the cults. The classes he knew almost by heart at this point.

"I can't yet say it IS a genestealer. I can say it sure looks like one so we should try our best to check. If so, this could change the scope of our mission... Mostly because we can't be sure the Colonel won't be of their number at this point". He almost cried at that last sentence, though he knew the colonel's faith made no difference to Cold Eye.

Cold Eye nodded along to the Kallanese soldier. He had no idea what this place was full off. 4-arms..... pffft..... Long Legs had 8. Razor sharp claws? What doesn't have those down here? He clearly had never seen a Ripper Jack. Hypnotic gaze? Yeah, so do Gak Toads....

However, the part about being infected and not even knowing about it..... well..... that was a bit unsettling. Her eyes involuntarily darted around to take a closer look at the people around her. She flared her nostrils to get a good whiff of them.

At least to John's eyes it still remains somewhat in doubt, if this was one of those Genestealer things or "just" normal mutation. He had at least skimmed the dossier that went around, when the formel counsel had started screening law enforcement and military with their biomedical scanners, and while the traders skin did not really look healthy, any discolorment might also be due to the colored neon light or some other issue. Even in the worst case she would merely be a pawn or infected human, not one of these Xenos themselves, as her head still looked rather normal. Nonetheless, he is on his toes due to Gastons warnings.

As he adresses the woman she looks him up and down and comments "Pay up den and Iz might tell ya - AFTERWARDS". Nothing in it for her to tell you her supplier before she made her cut herself. While you haggle for the price a bit, still arriving at some amount of ration bars, pain meds and synthehol that was ridiculous for some rank pinks, you can't really shake the feeling that some of the other folks around here inspect you like pieces of meat at the butcher shop - maybe even quite literaly. But due to some unspoken rule, the fragile peace holds for now.
Having made a satisfyingly good cut, the trader points over in the direction of some shady hovels at the border of the trading post. "Mighta seen the gal dat sold me dem pins go in dat way. Was lookin for a place for sum shuteye for ha. T'was a big gal, red hair, leaning to da chubby side. Crimson sash arounda neck. Had sum friends with ha"
An information handsomely paid, which might also spark the interest of others around her. Because if someone was willing to shell out for a tip, following that tip might be quite worth it. You shouldn't linger too long before following up on it.

As you approach the sheds and hovels - knowing what you are looking for - you make out a shed made from rusty metal sheets, where a bulky looking women fitting the description exchanges some words with a scrawny man with a large knife scar over his face, before ducking back into the makeshift hut. The man stays outside, smoking something, gnawing on some fresh meet from one of the food parlors around and keeping an eye on the surroundings. Nothing unusual around her, as sleeping without a watch is a sure way to loose your kidneys and worse.

The small group tries to look casual as they stake-out the rusty hut.

Cold Eye looks to John and Gaston. Rather lazily she makes a simple gesture to the guard and mimes the slitting of his throat. Discretely, of course. No need to let the Grox see the blade.

Gaston understands what Cold Eye was about. And he cared not a penny for these underhivers, instead he recognised them as the threat they were. His heart beat piked as he slowly took position behind rusty steel plates ready to take aim, but trying his best to look like he was just trying to get a rest and sit, in case the guard caught something. He did not believe an instant that this woul fool the guard if he actually sighted him, but anyways. The lasgun had been racked prior while he scouted, so no need to make any loud noise with that.

As he then peeks through his scope, he looks for evidence of genstealer hybrids. I mean, he would cut off his hand if the booth owner wasn't one o those. And when one was around, others were crawling somewhere. The thought of the colonel being infected flashed through his mind. If they ever got him up, to discover that after all he had endured... What a hellhole of a place, he raged, and now clearly as aiming for the guard's head through the lens, waiting eagerly to press the trigger and vent the rage and madness gnawing at his souls. He let slip one Kallenese word, as had become a habit: "Bâtards".

John nods his head to Cold Eye.

"If you can get the jump on the guard, try and take him alive. Then Gaston and I will breach and clear the hut."

"Remember, if the VIP isn't there, we'll need to keep at least one alive to get information."

John hung back and waited for Cold Eye to make the first move.

Gaston Heard storming. And saw John's gestured commands. Right. He pulls a grenade and switches to full auto, then loosens his dagger baïonnette a little... He nods that he's ready to pounce, showing John the grenade.

Cold Eye nods. Thankfully, there are always people around. That would allow her to mingle in and get closer.

Of course, the Badge made things a lot harder. He wanted the guard taken alive. Ugh. A slip of the knife would have been so much easier.

Cold Eye sighed as she shuffled along with a group of laborers carrying various debris for cover. She grabbed some Re-bar to look the part.

She tried to move with them until she got out of the guards line-of-sight, then slipped away into a side passage. From there, she weaved her way back between shanties, and then behind a slag pile. She scooted up next to the hut and slipped along its side.
This was always the most dangerous part, and she moved very slowly, looking like someone just leaning against the wall for a moment of rest, shuffled step, and then a rest.
Cold Eye monitoring her breathing closely to stay relaxed and focused on staying loose.

Once in position, she quickly slipped around the edge of the hut and made her move. She went for the special Night-Night hold that she had learned the hard way from her fellow tribesmen.

Gaston was feeling the dread rising inside of him, and or an instant almost ran away, but yet again, he was tetanised and could not mae anything more than a twitch. He saw, through the lens, Cold Eye all along her way, and he felt it couldn't go right, he knew it'd get hot, and it would be him or they again, and he was not dying here, no. He grunted and moaned, a tear dropping from his eye, and braced as if about to stand a hit to the face. His trigger everso slightly reahced towards the trigger while he grunted in kallenese yet again.

(Should Cold Eye fail, Gaston will immediatly provide assistance through shooting attacks. If not, he will launch a grenade and charge headlong, lasrifle wildly trying to pin the enemy down.).

John slides out the shock maul and gets himself ready to rush in and shock the guard if Cold Eye had any difficulty subduing him.

After that was the breach and clear. A lot could go wrong in the next few minutes, but they had come too far to back down now.

[Cold Eye had an extraordanary good roll]

Cold Eye sneaks her way closer, her skills honed from a life in the underhive. The lookout is no slouch though and she has to keep on her toes to not alert him of her presence. While she might be a bit reluctant to try the "nighty night grip" as she hadn't had a lot of practice with it, her trusty knife always remaind a backup option. As Gaston and John watch with anticipation, their nerves tense, they suddenly see their hired scout grapple the guard from behind, expertly covering his mouth and throat while pulling him half back over a low handrail, robbing him of his footing. The whole ordeal is over surprisingly quick, but while the guard wasn't able to get of a scream of alarm that would have gotten you the attention of the townspeople, he might have struggled enough for the ones inside the hut to notice.

As planned, Gaston and John charge forward, while Rho keeps a bit behind to cover you rear, aware that she would likely be less helpful and more getting in the way if she were to storm the hovel. You notice that she meddled with her lasgun the last days and that the powerpack seems to have been wired to something inside her robes, likely giving it a bit more of a punch. Not really relevant right now, but good to now for the future.

John kicks in the door with practiced movement, seeing almost nothing in the dark inside, followed up an instant later by Gastons blind grenade flying in and all of you covering behind shelter for a moment. You hear a "FRAK!" and the sound of several people jumping for cover from inside, as a small blast of light bursts through the cracks of the hut.
As the Guard in Cold Eyes grip turns limp, John and Gaston storm the hut and are greated by 3, no 4 people. One of them - a big, muscular, bald fellow, seems to have been to slow to avoid the blind grenade and is swinging wildly with his fist, groaning in agony. The other two - the aforementioned red haired, chubby woman and an older, sinewy man with grey temples jump out of their cover, seemingly not blinded, but still at least surprised and needing a moment to recover their posture.
The last human inside is another slightly older, but still fit man in ragged clothing, covered in dirt and sooth. You wouldn't recognize him as your target, but something in his posture and the cool and level headed demeanor in face of the attack - combined with him not being armed - implies that this might indeed be a military man and hostage of the little group.

To use the element of surprise, John immediatly lays into the big man comming at him with his shock maul, who can't duck away but takes the punch with worrying endurance, regardless of being electrocuted, punching John into the side of his ribs, driving the air from his lungs. This opens him up for Gaston though, slamming his riffle but unto the unlucky fellows temple and sending him to sleep for now, bleeding profoundly from his head. That evens the odds a lot - two vs. two, but unfortunatly the woman has grabbed their hostage, pressing a stub-revolver to the side of his head. "Nobody move! Or the old geezer gets it!" she shouts, while the man in her arms struggles unsuccesfully to free himself.

Now that you get a better look at him... it might indeed be Loisy. Not easy to tell between the dirt and rags, but quite possible.



Outside, Cold Eye notices, that you attracted a little bit of attention. Not so much that you get visitors any moment, but enough that someone might watch the hovel to see who comes out of it.

Seeing the hostage's face freezes Gaston. He could swear he looked like the colonel, and, instinctively, he shouted across the room "Mon Colonel. C'est vous?" His voice was full of panic, and he was at loss what to do. He lowered his lasrifle a bit, and started to have tears drop out of stress crushing him. Was there any trick he may pull off? Another stun grenade? They would notice him reaching for it. Quick volley? But what if he hit the colonel or didn't chop the woman's head there and then? He sidelooked at John, praying the Emperor that the experience shield was going to save the day with his negotiating skills, then he looked at the hostage directly into the eyes. Good emperor, what a mess he was meddling with...

Seeing their adversary grab the hostage, John pauses in his ruthless beating of the group in the hut.

"FINE...WE'LL DEAL THEN." He grumbles in a throaty authoritative voice.

"We've captured one of yours outside. Let us have your prisoner and you can have ours. Plus...you all keep your lives."

[Intimidation+willpower=one success]

Gaston guesses that chances to overpower the woman without killing the hostage are really slim, especially that even if she dies, she might still pull the trigger. And there is also the other man, the last of the little quartett, that also has a crude auto-carbine, adding to the standoff. The fact that he also has his gun trailed on the hostage instead of any of his attackers points out, that they are well aware of the value of whom they have taken here - or at least believe him to be extremely valuable.

John's call to deal and talk about is at least not ignored, but the woman does not seem to be intimidated at all. She spits out some phlegm and snarls "Frack of, badge! We didn't hurl this bag of gak all the way up here to hand him over like a wrapped gift. How about you and your f*ckers back off and hit the road. And if you think you can take us, the old geezer will join us!" her eyes meet Johns and she realizes, that her guess, that the uphivers won't risk the hostages death is right. On the other hand John get's a feeling that the woman (lets call her Brenna) is a bit like a hobby poker player that stumbled into a high stakes pro-game. Her hand isn't that bad, but she has already shoved almost everything she had, her metaphorical house, car and life insurance in the middle of the table and the others are still grinning. In to deep to back down now, but seeing her chances dwindle by the minute. A dangerous situation because she might be very prone to take stupid risks as it doesn't seem to matter anymore.

Outside, while the sentinel drifts into unconciousness in Cold Eyes arms, she counts at lest 4 people watching what's going on over here, some of them wearing gang signs.

Gaston cackles maddely and sends a volley into the stubber wielding man, with practiced speed and ease. He does it like target practice, legs still, only the arms elevating and the finger pulling the trigger. Then immediately lowers the rifle, not aiming at the woman. He kept cackling. At this point, he was just losing his mind, but hopefully he was making a clear point: she'll see that he means business. And that he was the one in this retenue to far gone to be held back indefinitely whatever the badge, who was most probably, to the woman's eyes, the squad leader, could say. And that he, now, had nothing to lose, too broken to even think about consequences.

In short, the woman would now have got a split second, past schock and awe of Gaston aggression, to decide whether she intended to actually see another day. If the chance arises, now, it was John's turn to make heavy on that message and convince her that she wouldn't be saved that way anyhow.

Cold Eye stands up from the guard. She glances around and sees everyone looking at her. She shrugs her shoulders, and starts looting the guys pockets, looking for anything of worth.

"Feth-head owes me," she snarls at no one in particular. However, she keeps her shotgun slung, and her knife unlatched in case she needs to escalate her point to back-off.

"Frak! John curses out loudly, draws the auto pistol and quickly takes a shot at the hostage taker's head, hoping to kill the hostage taker before she pulls the trigger.

[If we have any glory I would seize the initiative but I'm not sure we have any lol]

[Going for the called shot. +2 DN. I roll 5 dice and get four successes after spending a wrath and re-rolling]

Outside

Cold Eyes rather natural and common behavious to loot the pockets of the guy she just choked out cold indeed reduces the attention of the onlookers somewhat. She finds some ration bars - good uphive stuff, the man must have scavenged from the debris that fell down - and a decent butterfly knife. Then suddenly she hears a lasgun discharge from inside followed almost instantly by autopistol fire...

Inside

Things happen in the blink of an eye, as Gaston looses it and just outright guns down the man in front of him. From this close a distance, without any cover and with a practiced lasgun volley aimed at him, the result is as spectacular as final. While often laughed at from other branches of the military, the trusty weapon explodes huge chunks out of its victim, evaporating half of his torso, as the corpse just falters and drops down like a wet sack, the life fading from his eyes before he even hits the ground.

"YOU BASTARD!" Brenna screams, as John tries fervently to shoot her before she can react, but... it is to late. With one companion dead, another out cold on the ground, the third taken hostage outside, the woman sees that all is lost and all the sacrifices on the way up here were in vain. As the bullets from Johns autopistol hit her in the upper chest and face, she already pulled the trigger, spreading a chunk of the hostages brain on the side of the little hut. Before she can redirect her pistol towards you, Gaston finishes her off, but the damage is already done. The man you have come to rescue slumps to the ground, a shot right through his temples...

As you look at each other, Rho rushes forward and kneels down, a medical mechandrite rising from somewhere within her robes, while her hands start to pull out bandages from a first aid kit. Her efforts seem futile to you, as no man can survive such a wound. A thought that starts to only really manifest now, sending a cold chill along your spine.

[Time for first spontanous reactions of you. The adventure will still continue]

Cold Eye jumps up with surprise and the sound of gunfire. Despite how dangerous it is down-hive, gunfire is pretty uncommon. In settlements, most people settle issues with more subtle ways.

She steps into the doorway of the hut, and sees the carnage. She has no idea what went down, but it was messy and loud. Not good.

"By the Great Eagle, what happened? she croaks out.

She left the Badge and the soldier alone for a tick, and look what happens! It was too late to do anything here now. Her mind shifted to the immediate future in a heartbeat.

Cold Eye turns back around and glanced furtively out into the streets. That would attract a lot of the wrong kind of attention. She unslung her shotgun instinctively.

Dizzy from the gun discharges in such close confine and not actually grasping what is happening, Gaston drops his lasgun and falls backwards on the ground, before trying painfully to stand up and stop midway through it, face in his hands. He tries to replay what just happened, and doing so, one thing's screams at him from the bottom of his heart: it is. All your fault. You have failed. He stays there, broken, not daring to look at the mess he did...

John lowered his autogun and holstered it along with his shock maul. The adrenalin stiffening his joints and speech but otherwise not paralyzing him too much.

He kneels down beside Rho to get a good look at the hostage.

"Rho. Can you confirm the subject's DNA?"

He takes a good look at the hostage to see if it looks like the Governor...or someone else.

[Investigation +Intelligence, 4 successes]

Barely looking back to Cold Eye he manages to gasp out.

"The kid got itchy with his trigger finger, but it could have been worse. We need to confirm the VIP's DNA and prepare for extraction ASAP."

John tries to take a better look, but between the shot having really messed up the man and Rho fuzzing all over him, it is not easy. But from what he sees... yeah, he looks very much like the pics you have seen.

The Techadept meanwhile works frantically trying to stabilize him, the mechanical mechandrite pushing, pulling, injecting and stitching, while she keeps pulling out bandages, clamps and arcane tech devices from within her robes. First you are sure that her endeavors must be futile, the poor bastard has been shot right in the head. But upon closer look, he seems to indeed still breath... barely. In between she answers John "Still calculating, but probability above 87% that the subject is Governor Loisy. No genetic taint discovered yet. Update, 94%... 99%... It is the Governor... No genetic taint. Survival probability... 37%...Chance of partial cerebral recovery... 12%..."
All that seems to run on a subcontious routine of the Techfolk, while almost all of her attention is occupied by fixing some strange mechanoarcane device to his temple, small tendrils of wires extending from it into the cavity left by the shot. Seeing that some Techpriests seem to survive quite happily after having replaced most of their bodies with technology, she might even be right in her estimation that there is some chance of survival left. Good thing that she had devices to fix a damaged brain with her on her body. A happy coincidence to say the least. One that would make the Adeptus Mechanicus a - quite literally - vital partner, should the governor survive.

Cold Eye comming in has the distinct impression that you are "safe" for now, meaning no one will storm the hovel the next minutes. But the chance to just slip out without notice and possible company are minimal. You either need a good plan, a distraction or balls of adamantium to pull the brass up to the uper hive. On the plus side, if the techwoman was right, this right her was the golden ticket that could buy her everything she ever dreamed of. A place in the uper hive if she liked to, a hoard of gold and credits, food for her and her clan for the next hundred years... you name it.

"Thank the Emperor, he might make it through this one. Thanks Rho."

John assessed the situation. Their extraction would have been far easier if the Governor had died. This was definitely going to complicate things...

He looked to Rho first.

"Will it be safe to move him and if so how soon can we do it?"

Then he looked to the Guide.

"Cold Eye. What's your assessment? If we can safely move him, we need a plan to get back to the surface."

"If we can't move him, then we'll have to split up again. Someone has to stay here and guard the VIP, and the other party doubles back to the surface to get a message back to HQ to send for a relief force."

Gaston remains kneeling, face in his hands and breathing loudly. (Waiting for cold eye.)

[Just to get the info through]
Rho responds to Johns question hesitantly, but the badge is unsure if that is due to doubt or being distracted from fixing up Loisy. "... question unclear... body will be able to move under its own power. Neuro-implant can enable necessary motoric function even without neural activity. But survival prognosis is strongly corrolated with the absence of further physical stress."

in other words: if the techpriests can bring a literal corpse to work as a servitor, bringing a braindamaged man to walk isn't that big of a deal. But getting into a fight, running or being pushed around will heavily influence the chances of anything being left from the old Loisy inside his battered skull

Cold Eye shrugs, "Best to take his head back and leave the meat. Prove we found him. Save him the trouble." She gestures at the body Rho was hovering over.

There would be no "best way" back uphive with someone mortally injured. They would need to create a stretcher, then have two people carry it. Only a couple of them could look out for danger. Plus, going down was easy but going UP! You need two hands to climb in some of the places.

It was impossible and probably suicidal to try and bring that VIP up.

John shakes his head.

"Anyone returning to the surface will be vigorously interrogated. We wouldn't survive the Commissars...or worse the Inquisition if they're on this world."

He then looks to Gaston.

"Don't worry kid, you'll have plenty of time to get your story straight before we get back to the surface. My advice...keep it simple. We breached the dwelling and in the ensuing gun fight, the Governor was shot by heretics. That's all Command needs to know."

He looks back to the wounded man then addresses Cold Eye again.

"Rho says he can move on his own with an implant. So he's coming with us, all the way back up the way we came. Unless you have a better route back to the surface."

"It will be dangerous going back, but we are a small group. We can move slow and Emperor willing we won't attract attention."

John managed to not aggravate Gaston's state by avoiding any hard reproaches, and he nodded in agreement. Yes, he asked anything, he'll say it was the underhiver's fault. Besides it was, in a way. And he would have got a hard time admitting out loud again how he messed up all the rescue.

Willing to make amends, Gaston asks, fear, regret and torture clear cut in his voice: "Rho, if I manage to bear the Colonel on my shoulders instead of having him walk, at least as much as possible, would he get better chances to make it through?"

Gaston, while not a mountain man by any means, was nonetheless a sharp and muscular soldier, and he reckoned he could help militate the time the colonel would have to walk by transporting him on his shoulders as much as possible. Although this would partly incapacitate him: he wouldn't be so keen eyed while bearing such burden, and in case a fight erupted, he'd got to run at a slower pace to dump the colonel into a cover before even hoping to return fire. And, as a final nail in the coffin, it's be obvious they had a casualty - thus easier targets. Rho would need to tell if the course of action was worth it.

Cold Eye shrugged.

Might be too late about those eyeballs lookin' at us. Cold Eye gestured out the doorway. Plenty of folks all ready had taken notice.

Might want to cut a deal with some Guilders headin' up hive? Safe in numbers?"

Gaston added: "disguise him as a ragged hiver then?"

John nodded. "Aye, if we can find some guilders going up hive, that's fine with me."

"We'll strip one of the dead gangers down and throw the rags on him."

Some more tense minutes pass, before finally Rho exclaims in her mechanical rasping voice "Well.. he is not dead... and not dying currently, maybe even getting better. All else is in the hands of the omnissiah now..."
You get another look at the VIP, some drool dripping from a hanging lower lip, his right eye rolling out of focus and coming back to it repeatedly. Both his temples are covered in arcane machinery now and you hear the faint noise of strange contraptions wiring inside his head, possibly trying to fix as much of the damage done as possible.

As his former captors had the same idea, Loisy is indeed already nicely covered up in rags, but you take the time to improve his disguise a bit more with the clothing of the dead around you. On the topic of dead: two of them, the guy Cold Eye chocked out and the one John brought down with his shock mace are still alive, leaving you with the decicion if you want to just cut their throat, leave them here or even recruit them as hirelings of more than questionable loyalty.

The Idea of trying to go with some Guilder going uphive isn't a bad one. But you might consider what you have to offer for them to take you? Also how you want to explain Loisy without anyone guessing what treasure you have there shuffling between you

John mulls over a few options in his head, then bends down and starts putting on zip tie like restraints on the captive gangers.

"Alright, listen up. As of right now Cold Eye, you are a slaver boss. I'm a bent Badge, and Gaston here is a PDF Deserter. Rho is a disgraced former tech Adept that plies in the servitor trade. We are all taking these prisoners up hive to sell to the mechanicum for conversion into servitors."

"That is our story until we get back to the surface? Everyone got it?"

Gaston does not hesitate a second and cuts the throat of the man on the ground. There is no way he will not talk and give them away, and if they take him uphibe with them, no way he won't betray along the way. As to what to pay to get a mercenary from the guilders outside... Hard to tell. With Loisy nicely wrapped up in rags, Gaston puts him on his back, takes up the women's revolver and ammos as a sidearm, and gets ready to leave, somehow, back on track for the time being, probably from seeing an opportunity to redeem...

John shakes his head with disgust and a little bemusement at Gaston, then retracts the zip ties and puts them away.

Sounding gruff and annoyed he addresses Gaston:

"I guess you saved me a few restraints then. Whatever pal, just remember one thing. You keep pissing me off and the commissars just might find out a few more details about this rescue attempt than you're going to be comfortable living with. "

He looks to Cold Eye. "Come on then Guide, let's find us a caravan. Since Gaston killed off the prisoners I was going to use to pay up, he can offer his own gear as payment.

Cold Eye smirked, perhaps for the first time since she had started this little Gak festival.

She hoped the Sump Eagle had his eyes on her, cause she was going to need all the help she could get. The Badge was not wrong, we needed something to bargain with, because five more mouths to feed and shelter was not gonna be free.

The Guide made the sign of the Sump Eagle, settled herself, and re-slung her shotgun. However, she kept the latch to her knife undone. Her hand close by.

She pulled herself up to her full-height, and then blasted her way out of the doorway like she owned the entire Sump. She glowered around daring anyone to make eye contact with her. After going a few steps, she assessed the situation before signaling for her fellows to follow.

She felt like she knew which part of this Sumpville the Guilders would have ears. She started leading the Uphivers there.

As John was drafting his plan, Rho was about to nod approval when suddenly Gaston was slitting the throats of the two men they had overwhelmed. Some wirring and buzzing indicated that she was considering their options, before dryly exclaiming towards John "Drafted plan might still be feasible... Worked with worse rawmaterial before..." as her mechanical mechandrite plunged into the base of the skull of the bigger one John had brought down with a bonechilling crunch. A cautherizing laserbeam emerging from a contraption on her lower arm fixed up the immediate bleeding on his throat and as Cold Eye emerged through the door, the big guy was in the process of slowly getting up to his feed again, dead, blank eyes gazing into the void, but his fresh corpse obviously quite willing to walk and do the Tech-persons bidding.

Overall that might even work to your advantage - as uggly as this business was - as Loisy in his current stage looked much less awkward shambling side by side with another lobotomized would-be-servitor.

Cold Eyes bold, straightforward move seems to succeed in deceiving the onlookers for now, as the curious eyes watching you from the dark keep their distance. And as you get back to the more lively parts of the trading post you raise a couple of interested eyebrows, but acting to the playbook John intended seems enough to get by for now. Following your guide, you head to a shady looking drinking den that seems the place to be, if you want to get in contact with guilders and the like. A band of... more or less humans is playing some upbeat music on stage, while various downhivers are chatting at the bar, drinking, smoking and generally enjoying all kind of recreational drugs. On the side you find several booths, were shady negotiations take place. One of those booths is currently only occupied by a middle aged, charismatic looking man, whose overall appearance screams "soldier of fortune/smuggler" and his enormous, hairy and beardy sidekick, both seemingly looking for work/customers.

John nods to Cold Eye as they walk into the establishment, relieved that Rho had managed to salvage the soon to be corpses into something of value that could be traded.

"This is your scene Cold Eye. I'll let you do the talking this time around."

Gaston, not wanting to make another mess, just follows looking as confident as he could, hand resting calmy on appearance on the revolver, but looking more like a hardened ancient terra cow boy than about to start a brawl. From time to time he looks at the colonel as if to an old friend he was body languaging with, to make him seem a bit more... alert than what Rho's fixing of the mess he made earlier had permitted. Gaston couldn,'t help but start to hate himself for all his failures and relish an opportunity to end it, if possible in worthy sacrifice somehow.

Cold Eye nodded to John, and glanced at Gaston.

The scout walked over to the two Sump Dwellers. She had seen their kind before, heck, she had traded Long Leg skins with their ilk many times. Best to be direct and not waste anyone's ticks.

She brazenly walked up to the duo, smacked her hand on the table and said, "Oi, I needs to move some meatsacks uphive, but don't wanna go solo. I'm looking for a caravan outta this hole. You got the up-n-out for it?

Gaston was looking for stuff he gould give up as a bribe. Lasgun still has got some ammo, so he had to keep it. And armour was out of the question. Helmet? No good, because you bump your head quite a lot down here, but he still had got his cap. Ok, helmet he would go without. Rations? Barely enough to feed himself, especially if he actually had to carry Loisy on his shouldrs to reduce physical strain on the colonel's battered carcass. And hardly worth anything. Grooming kit and stuff he'd give, but he also doubted it'd be worth much anyway.

While his mind sinks into painful shame and remorse, he definitly woke back up and now has regained control over himself.

John noticed Gaston's demeanor and spoke quietly.

"You can relax about the bribe. Thanks to Rho's mechanicum magic we got ourselves a couple of servitors in the making that we might be able to use as a bribe instead."

"So in a way, your screw up ended up turning into a good things."

"Of course, no sense dwelling on the screw ups anyway. That can come later. But for right now, we got to stay focused on the here and now to make it through this gak storm."

The Smuggler looks Cold Eye up and down, before turning his gaze over to her little entourage, a gesture that summons up images of meat being inspected for its value on the market. "Might be, y'all came to the right spot for that kind of shenanigans... Name's Pearson and that..." he nods over to his companion "is me mate Buck. And who do we have the pleasure of dealin' with?" he asks back.

Mheanwhile buck has his hands below the table, likely on some weapons should you try anything stupid.
Regardless of Coldeye giving him a name or not, he comes to the point pretty quickly "If y'all want our company, ya have to make it worth orr time. Whatever da Redcowls promised ya, Buck and me get a 50% cut. And that's because I like ya nose. Don't try to haggle, ya won't find any better offer down here. And ya can count yaself a lucky lass that ya came to me first. Most of the Skunks in this rotten filth hole would have gutted y'all on the spot and took the payoad themselves."

Gaston didn't really know what to think of it, as he wasn't keen on surrounding himself with yet more underhive scum. What he does is look coldly unamazed, making sure those lowly suls are well aware that he is not afraid - in fact, after all, he's become quite adept at disposing of them thus far... But for now, clearly, he has no idea about the negotiation process and elected to let people more able to carry the task out, instead of making yet another mess.

Cold Eye actually chuckled at Pearson. Nothing was what it seemed in the sump. Everyone was trying to puff themselves up, like some sort of Gutterpaw seeing its shadow.

"50%.... for hitching a ride? Pretty gutsy tryin' to cut a Badge out of his slop." She held up her hands conspicuously in the open, "but if that's how ya' want ya' tribe to recall ya'? Things like that have a way of workin' back to a fella."

No point in antagonizing their way up too much. Afterall, once they got up top, who knew what was gonna happen. That was something for future Cold Eye to deal with. Now Cold Eye needed a ride.

Since we gonna be goin' uphive, you can all me Skinner, that one's Badge (John), then we got Trigger (Gaston), and the Red Robe (Rho). That's all you will wants to know."

Cold Eye slowly pulled out her knife, and put the blade to her palm, "You ready to make the Oath then.... Pearson?"

John gave the hive scum a typical cold eyed stare, his hand never trailing far from his auto pistol holster.

Cold Eye seemed to have the matter in hand and Emperor willing the return trip would be a lot smoother than the way down...

Trigger... Well, Gaston thought, considering how he's been on this journey, that's a pretty apt call sign anyway. Might as well keep it. Besides, this was kind of a good play from Cold Eye, as this made him sound instantly trigger itchy - and thus, not to be mess with. Somehow, Gaston felt a faint, small respect for Cold Eye's skills, and reckoned she didn't last long there for no reasons.

Pearson shruggs his shoulders as Cold Eye mentiones how he wants to be remembered by his tribe "I'll be remembered as the guy who doesn't sell himself short." before he nods and stands up in front of Cold Eye, reaching out his hand "fair enough. Lets settle this." Obviously considering if he could have gotten away with an even greater share, seeing that Cold Ey settled so quickly for his first offer. Nonetheless, a deal is a deal, at least to him.

"Come on then, pack up ya meat bags and get this gig going. I know a caravan going uphive this evening. Didn't thought we'd join them, but we might as well." Buck meanwhile downs his drink in a big swig and joins you too, towering at a good 7 feet. He seems to be more of the silent kind, the muscle to Pearsons brains.
As you start to leave, having found a possible way up, Gaston and John catch in the corner of their eyes, a sudden shift in Loisys facial expression. He still seems somewhat gone, but the drooling has stopped. While his eyes are still rolling around unfocussed from time to time, his lips and jaw look a lot more controlled now. You can even hear him mutter worts under his breath. Almost silently you have to lean closer to hear them. "... Loisy... Colonel... 7th Kallenese Grenadiers... service ID 7263-M018-631D.... Loisy... Colonel.... 7th..." on and on again.
This might become a probleme in the future...

After navigating the surroundings of the trading post for some minutes - something that seems to go a lot more smothly with Pearson and Buck in the lead who know their way around the vicinity - you approach another campfire around which a group of sump nomads are preparing for their way uphive. They have some scrawny looking scaly packbeasts in their tow, ladden with all kind of downhive wares. Pearson immediatly approaches their chief, a woman called Tremar, exchanging greetings with an old friend and mentioning that out of spontanous generosity, Buck and himself had decided to join her caravan and help out with security and that they even found some additional guns for hire as well as two workers to carry things.
The exchange seems pleasant on the surface, but you get the destinct feeling, that while both are indeed old friends, neither of them fully trusts the other.

The caravan people meanwhile look you up and down, specifically interested in Rho as it seems.

Gaston was growing a bit worried that he gave himself away, and started to communicate with him. Although there wasn't a lot of chances that Loisy would actually interact. But he was trying nonetheless, whispering in kallenese to the colonel "Sir... Could you please raise a hand?"

John scowls at Gaston. "Eh mate... you know the boss's rules, it don't talk to the merchandise. Not the sort of attention we want. The boss hired you to do a job, so do it."

After saying that quietly to Gaston he moves up next to Cold Eye to survey the caravan.

"no worries, was trying to make him stop that muttering cause that's giving me headaches, real noisy meat bag that is. Nevermind pal." The look of his eyes was saying "hope he won't keep talking nonsense at the very worst moment".

John nods. "Aye well...let's just hope the Red Robes will still buy him. I figure with all their magic powers over machine spirits, it shouldn't be an issue to fix him up so he acts like a proper servitor...as in ones that keep their mouths shut."

Gaston, having heard that, feinted a cash hungry grin, but side glimpsed towards Rho, hoping that she indeed would notice what was happening and ake a quick fix. He even slightly tilted his head towards loisy to say "tech adept, there's something not right with that one..."

Cold Eye tries to assess the situation, not sure how much to relax around these new unknowns. She kept her knife within easy reach.

Rho inspects Loisy for some moments, manipulating the new temple implates with her mechandrite. The muttering stops... for now and you have the feeling the body straightens up a little, but as Rho takes up eyecontact with you again, she wiggles her remaining fleshy hand in a gesture indicating that she can't guarantee this won't happen again.

Finally the caravan starts its ascent uphive, through long and winding tunnels - definitly a route far from the one you took coming down, that will lead you significantly of course, but uphive is uphive... hopefully. All in all, with your lot, Pearson and Buck, there are a good 20 able bodies holding guns, including two heavy stubbers - enough to discourage you average raiding party or burglar, especially as Cold-Eye can imagine that the guild trader pays his bribes to the larger gangs whose territory they will pass.
Therefore the journey goes a long pretty smoothly, without major incidences. Unfortunatly there are some minor ones, as the man you took as your second "servitor" wanders up a couple of times and Rho seems to have a hard time keeping Loisy from mumbling. So far no one has confronted you about him, but with every instance you feel the stakes rising if someone has overheard him. Especially Pearson - while being quite charming in a daredevilish way - seems to be quite attentive and curious, setting some doubts how much he suspects about your cargos true nature.

After some days - you suspect that you should be 2/3rds of the way up - the faint suspicion of something watching you from the shadows returns, the same way you noticed it when coming down. A faint scratching now and then, an undefined raising of your neck hairs. Your companions seem to be oblivious of that or likely just attributing it to the normal critters and hive scum crawling around down here, withour your suspicions of a more sinister predator.
Loisys situation seems to have been improved significantly and Rho is carefully optimistic regarding him. Regarding his survival alone, he seems to have beaten the odds, but how much of the Governor is left within his mind is still unclear. Since yesterday his eyes are focussed again at least and his gait seems almost normal, if just a little bit slow. He even drinks and takes up nutrition on his own if it is handed to him and he is instructed too, which is an improvement from the start where you had to basically force feed him. Now and again you even believe to see him thinking about things he sees, staring at junk formations, equipment, weapons or people, seemingly lost in thought.

John does his best to ignore the crippled governor, sinking into the cover story as best he can. He stays focused on keeping quiet and staying alert for threats, both within the caravan and from without.

Eventually he realizes that feeling again, the feeling of being watched returns and goes to talk to Cold Eye and Gaston.

"Whatever was watching us on the way down is back. I can feel it out there. It's a good thing we've got ourselves a caravan but...I don't know. Don't get too comfortable. That's all I'm saying."

Cold Eye keeps a look-out like a good little scout. However, when she can she floats back to her little tribe.

Gaston was helping the Big Man, when she leans over unobtrusively, "Pearson maybe gettin' ideas. Accident? Underhive full of danger."

She leaned away and busied herself with some triviality.

Gaston was growing anxious yet again. The thing. It was back at their tail yet... He was praying the Emperor that the caravan would deter it from striking, but he wasn't sure about that, in fact, that may even be some friends of theirs, who knows. That cursed place has already proven time and again how nonsensical it was... He managed to more or less dismiss these thoughts, and made his best to put on a calm and cold face. To distract him from his thoughts, he was self assigning the mission to make eye contact with what was left of the colonel and make sure he woudln't start taloking nonsense right now, or sooner, ready to make a show of him silencing him for all to see how he treated the meat and that it couldn't possibly be such a worthy meatbag...

 Easy E wrote:
Cold Eye keeps a look-out like a good little scout. However, when she can she floats back to her little tribe.

Gaston was helping the Big Man, when she leans over unobtrusively, "Pearson maybe gettin' ideas. Accident? Underhive full of danger."

She leaned away and busied herself with some triviality.

John shook his head at Cold Eye. "Unless you think something's imminent, better not to do anything to draw attention to ourselves."

"Gaston is right, whatever thing was watching us on the way down is back...which makes no sense. What sort of underhive spawned monster would try and take on a big caravan like this? Maybe it's just looking for stragglers."

He looks at the Governor. "Better make sure he doesn't go wandering off eh?"

Gaston, catching John and Cold Eye muttering, waves his hand at John and pulls the governor slightly by the collar to mean that he's not letting him wander anywhere.

However... He still wouldn't be surprised if Pearson, with that many guns, was getting ideas. They maybe should start pitting the caravan and Pearson in competition. He gestured to cold eye to come up to him pretexting to hand her a recaf-bar over, on which he had written "think you could persuade caravan that Pearson getting ready to snap their throats?"

While his stress level was through the roof at that very moment, Gaston, with a faint sense of wanting to run away or start blazing with his lasgun, surprised himself by managing to keep his nerves under control. He thought "Nah. I'm not making yet another mess." And, in Kallenese, uttered "I've had worse.". "I'll make it though". "It's alright". The possibility that he broke again was there, but he had definitely learned and hardened from what has transpired down in the hive...

Cold Eye shrugged at the Badge's words. He wasn't wrong, but he was from uphive.

She grabbed the Re-caf bar from Gaston and gave him a nod of thanks. The gscout lanced at the scrawl on it. She recognized it as writing, and assumed it was a note from Gaston. However, letters had never been Cold Eyes strong point. She would need time to figure out what it said, but she guessed it wasn't for public consumption. She pocketed the bar.

Cold Eye glanced around, trying to gauge if anyone else had noticed they were being stalked. Her eyes narrowed on Pearson, trying to see what he was doing.

The general vibe that Cold Eye and John get from the other members of the caravan is, that almost all of them either don't suspect anything relating to Loisy or are incredibly good in hiding it. Given their daily profession you would more count on the former.
With Buck and Pearson it's a bit harder to tell. Buck is not the most communicative guy anyway, mostly just talking to Pearson in some strange deep hive dialect not even Cold Eye really understands. Pearson on the other hand has stayed suspiciously close to your price the last days and while being overall the charming soldier of fortune he was all along, that is most likely a persona he wears like a mask anyway. But if you would have to guess, you would right now not really take him for a man that would shoot you in the back, but more one that will try to play his cards right to get a fair piece of the cake instead of risking his head to try and get all of it.

Regarding the thing in the dark, the rest of the caravan doesn't really seem to have noticed it, not being any more careful or suspicious than normal in the underhive (which still means they are very much on their toes overall). So you continue without explicitly warning them again about what you think you have noticed, keeping a tight leash on the Governor.


To speak of silence around you is a bit stressed, as there is a permanent background noise of debris sliding around, falling or spiraling from downwards from the upperhive, the humming of machinery in the distance and of course the omnipresent scratching and skiterring of little vermin scutteling around in the dark. Nonetheless just after you have round a corner, you are suddenly pretty startled by the sound of several bangs from up front, the unmistakable sound of autogun fire comming from somewhere to the left and hear a cry of alarm as your company dives for cover, paired with the final death scream of two of them going down and several others getting hit. An ambush obviously, from the sound of it by maybe a dozen gunmen. Fortunatly cover is not hard to come by and you manage to navigate Loisy with you under the cover of a heavy rockcrete slab more towards the end of the caravan, while one of the heavy stubbers of the caravan answers in kind, audibly suppressing your attackers. Your compatriots recover quite fast from the initial shock, shouting commands to one another and scrambling to get a better grasp on the situation, flank the attackers and make sure you not get flanked yourself.
"WATCH OUR BACKS!" the leader screams at you and you notice that you would be the closest to covering the bend in the way you justed passed around, to make sure no one comes that way.
So far you have not gotten a good look at the attackers and can't say anything about their identity. Pearson and Buck have holed up in a steep crater some 20 yards from your position, the later pulling out some modified heavy combat shotgun while Pearson is already taking potshots with a hotshot laspistol.

As you consider your options, Loisy turns to Gaston and reaches for his backup laspistol exclaiming in a slightly slurry voice "give me a weapon, soldier. Every gun counts."

John moves to the nearest position to take cover and pulls his auto pistol out.

He aims the weapon down the hall and if any target appears he stands ready to open fire.

Gaston, ducked in his cover, at first freezes in surprise. In a joyful voice, he said, in Kallenese dialect as always: "Mon Colonel, you're back!" and hands over his laspisto' and all his clips. His morale was, all of a sudden, sky high. "I'll protect you, mon Colonel, stay low!" Knew resolve flooded in his heart, and, keeping his silhouette as best as he could behind cover, he scanned frantically in all directions, making sure nothing could harm the colonel - or that he could interpose in time.

He saw John take aim down the hall, and shouted, hoping that despite his accent, he'd be understood: "Badge, tis Trigger, head back 20 meters, I support!".

(In game terms, I will protect the VIP, using my look out sir ability if necessary)

While you cover the rear, a quite heavy fire fight enfolds in the front, with lots of bullets and a couple of lasbolts flying around, but seemingly without too much effect on the caravan. Your ernstwhile travecompanions have taken good cover and give at least as good as they get and from your position you even see one or two of the assailants going down, while you own only suffer some minor flesh wounds. Lucky for you, the caravan leader notices in time that the attackers try to go around and flank them and redistributes his fighters to cancel that out, but after he does so, John gets a rather queasy feeling. It's strange that the ambushers would not have put some men where they seemingly wanted to move to begin with and also when they made their move, they did not really try their best to conceal it. Looking at it from this direction you notice that the redistribution of your fighters stretches the line a bit, keeping them further from your little lot and disrupting the sightlines to you. Now it's more or less only Buck and Pearson, who refused to move up as commanded, that still have a look on you.

Cold Eye gets a look at some of the gunmen and -women attacking you - typical downhive mutant rubble. But after what that shaky, triggerhappy soldierboy in her company was babbling about the last days, she does indeed notice that the odd additional hand or even arm and a skin complexion drifting towards the purpelish-scaly kind does seem to be a bit more prevelant than she would like. Maybe the soldier was less nuts than she thought.

A couple of shots also go in your direction, but as long as you stick your head down, you are mostly fine. Gaston keeps Loisy covered who tries his best to give at least some suppression fire with his pistol, his aim being far from the old mark. How the others feel about the partly lobotomized governor having a firearm again is anybodies guess. One of the shots of your attackes even glances Gastons flak armor and while it doesn't penetrate, he himself is sure that he quite literally "took a bullet for the Colonel", boosting his confidence in no small amount.

As suddenly to of the mutants rush Pearsons and Bucks position - being greeted by the big mans combat shotgun, you hear Rhos rasping mechanical voice "Location of second servitor unclear. Life signs abnormal." You take a look around, but can't find the Hiver you took with you. Only Cold Eye intuitively looks in the right direction and can make out a long, blood covered, purple claw, resting on a stone in the rubble above your cover, pulling "somethin" over it... Something that will drop on your hideout any second...

Cold Eye gave a shout of warning as she tried to get her shotgun on target. Despite knowing she was going full-speed, the shotgun ever so slowly moved towards the strange hivebeast coming over the rock. With horror, Cold Eye knew there was no way she was going to get on target in time.

"By the Chasm Eagle, this was it.", flashed through her mind.

Gaston heard the warning from Cold eye. He had just shrugged off debris flying towards the colonel that struck at his plate carrier instead, and he was still a little dazed from the impact, although proud to redeem and ready to die trying. It was only when he instinctly turned his head towards the source of the warning that he saw some purplish form dashing towards the colonel. Well, rather, towards, him, but somehow, he knew it came for the colonel's head. And as he saw it, his brain awoke.

"Genestealer!" He roared, and shot a full auto volley while interposing between the colonel and the creature. Gaston felt, a fraction of a second before the impact, that he was about to give up his life, and he hadn't even a second thought about it, facing his destiny headlong - and the heart light from anticipated, well deserve redemption in sacrifice.

Warned by Cold Eyes shout, you turn your gaze upwards just in time to see an eldritch horror crawl across the sumit of some scrap-hill directly above you. Its form is only vaguely humanoid at best, 6 long clawed limbs with strangely shaped and turned joints supporting a heavy set, broad torso, the whole ensemble covered by thick, bony chitin. Where the dark purplish, almost black carapace plates join you can see thick strings of dark red muscles working, absolutely sure that this beast is strong as a grox.
It is unarmed in a sense, but its talons and claws look maliciously sharp, the edges shimering like razors even in the spare light, but the worst and most scary of all is its alien head, the face distorted to a cruel grin exposing several rows of pointy teeth and a long, slimy tongue snaking around, tasting the air. Despite its size and bulk, the Genestealer moves very silently and - you have to admit - almost gracefully as leaps towards Gaston, claws first.

Rho seems to overloaded with sensory input at the moment and doesn't even raise her left arm with the integrated laspistol you saw once or twice before and Cold Eye is just a little to slow right now, but the other three at least get of a shot, before the monster hits your ranks. The slugs from Johns Autogun slam into the armored shoulderblade of the thing, but while that would have been enough to seriously harm a mere mortal, it only seems to slightly throw it of target


In the same moment, Loisy raises his laspistol, a primal scream on his lips, full of an ancient mix of anger, rage, panik and burning pain. He spews forth a couple of lasbolts but his aim is pretty abysmal - no wonder given that he basically has just raised from the braindead if you will.


So it comes down to Gaston and the stealer, the Guardsmen shoving himself in the way of the beast to protect his Colonel and quite likely die a heroic death in the process. But he won't sell his live cheaply, at least losing a volley into the thing before the talons connect. The hail of lasbolts slam into the thing, mainly towards its head and shoulders as the claws close around Gaston. And while they, like Johns shots, barely pierce the carapace they do tear out lumbs of flesh and nerves at the side where you would expect the ears.


The thing screams in pain and then lashes out in a blinding flurry of claws, fangs, teeth and talons. The result is... more gruel than in your worst nightmares. These talons that can even threaten Astartes powerarmor cut through the Kalinese flakvest as if it was butter and in a spray of blood and viscera the human soldier almost explodes into bluddy lumbs flying around everywhere. Still in shock you find yourself in bloody melee with the beast... But in a last act of defiance, Gaston had thrown himself into it, tripping it for a moment, which might give you some pause, as it struggles to get back up and sort out its multiple appendices.

Gaston didn't even truly see himself die. Sure, he felt the first strike of a razorsharp claw. A split second after, before his brain even actually registered what was happening, he blacked out from the nervous overlaod of all this talons breaking his body piece by piece at lightning fast speed. But he didn't even see himself pass away. He left with the pride of redemption and a worthy sacrifice in his beaten, but valiant heart. It had been the very last emotions to animate him. He did what his duty demanded of him - and despite his young age, he didn't hesitate to step up... May he be remebered as a hero, and his wrongdoings be forgiven and forgotten...

"GASTON NOOOOOOOOOO!!!!"

He reloads and empties a second full clip into the genestealer, desperately trying to get the kill.

[Only 4 successes this time. With the extra damage dice total damage is only 8]

As the Genestealer tries to get his grip again, John empties another clip into it, but the carapace of the monster is unbelievably thick and hard as ceramite, the slugs of the autogun that connect ricochetting off harmlessly. The VIP is right in front of it, now devoid of its bodyguard but the stealer... turns around to face John instead. It doesn't take a genius to figure out its plan: kill off all the protectors and then infect the Governor... a price that would be worth sacrificing its minions that right now get killed by the rest of the caravan further at the front.

Out of the corner of their eyes, Cold Eye and John can see Rho getting a grip on the situation and panicking, trying to back away from the flailing talons and claws as fast as possible, her flight instict getting the better of her. Suddenly freezes and you can see a wall of text appear on her artificial eyelense, the same way you sometimes saw, when she was communicating with the Noosphere further uphive. Under her breath she mutters "override in progress... deprioritize self preservation..." before she unexpectedly flings herself right at the monstrous tyranid creature. The pistons in her artificial legs scream from the strain of being used far out of their security range and somewhere a pipe bursts, spraying hot hydraulic fluid around. Her mechanic arms and the medical mechandrite you witnessed before shoot forward, as she barrels into the thing. Her whole body seems to be in overload mode and literally strains its muscles to the point of snapping, but to your utmost surprise she pushes the stealer two feet back and restrains it at least for a crucial moment. With a scream of rage the thing tears into her, with more or less the same result you saw with Gaston, but the Omnissiah grants her the miracle of dying slow enough to buy you some crucial time, before she joins him at his throne.



Trying not to let this go to waste, Loisy and Cold eye fire at the thing too and from their hiding spot nearby, Pearson lines up a speculative shot with his hot-shot pistol, while Buck storms closer to bring his combat shotgun to bear. While both handguns fail to make an impact besides some light cinder marks, the shotgun slugs find their mark, somehow wriggling through where the carapace parts connect and in between Buck and Cold-Eye, the monster seems really hur for the first time. It is far from done though and at the speed it is killing your companions, this will be a very close call indeed...

"AHHHH, COME ON!"

John slams in the very last clip of his autogun and empties the whole thing into the genestealer, hoping against hope to do enough damage to put it down for good.

[4 successes, ED does two extra damage for 9 total]

[I think you are doing this right. After a successful hit, the total damage is Damage minus target's resilience. Then the target can use shock to soak the remaining damage before it starts taking wounds. So since the genestealer has resilience of 7, it will likely take 2 shock damage]

Rising from the brain dead, vision blurred and unsecure, Loisy tries to hold as best he can and shoots at the tenebrous, purple form that he nows for sure is a genestealer... Although to no avail yet... Composing himself and making clear thouths is hard, a million voices scream in his brain and he can't seem to sort them out by any conscious effort. However, from the chaos, one, the traumatising image of his own men shooting their comrades as new genstealer cult minions tears trhough the others, flashing and superseeding par of what he sees, and the traumatised brain of the officer nows for sure. No looking in the eyes. When he is the last one alive, he shoots himslef rather than be turned into the monsters his fragmented, tortured brain clearly remembers now it hates more than anything. At least, more than the value he puts on his own life... He rushes to a grenade that was left by the shredded remains of Gaston, and gets ready to blow himself away when the monster turns his horrid gaze towards him...

Cold Eye finally pulled herself together. The shadow of the Sump Eagle had fallen across her soul for a moment, and it probably cost Gaston his life. She hunkered down and watched the beast. She had seen some terrors in the night before, but this was something else. It was a sight to behold.

For some reason, it was clearly going for the VIP.... the reason they had come here. It was after them for some reason. By the xeno glint in its eye, it was obviously something bad.

She made her decision. Cold Eye let he shotgun sling to the wayside, it would be next to useless against the creature if the Badge's auto-pistol barely scratched it.

She had always grown up relying on cold steel, and now was no different. She pulled her best blade from its sheathe and carefully, casually, quietly circled around the Beast. She kept her eyes on it, even as the Tech-Priest flung herself at it, and was torn asunder.

Cold Eye approaches not the beast, but the VIP. Then, she spies him pick up a grenade and pauses. It appeared he all ready knew what the best course of action was.... to finish himself off.

The tracker stopped stalking the old man. Cold Eye flashed him the sign of the Sump Eagle in honor. She left him to his fate. Now, she had to looked to her own survival and the continuation of her tribe. She glanced around to see if there was a way to trigger a cave-in, avalanche, or similar environmental hazard on the Beast.

Merely a second after Cold Eye saw Loisy and assumed it would kill himself with the grenade, it appeared that the broken man's brancells couldn't hold onto a single plan for very long, and in a panicked, yet practiced move, years of training compensating instinctly for his crippled faculties, Loisy takes the pin off, cooks 2 or so seconds, and throws the grenade towards the blurred purple form before trying to get his laspistol back in hand and pray he had some ammo still left...

Once the grenade detonated, John unsheathed his shock maul and charged into the monster letting loose with the maul in a last ditch attempt to save a man that he neither knew nor liked. It was now or never...

With that, the battle - pitched as it already was - reaches it's climax, as all of you go all in, throw your cards on the table and wait to see who will come out on top.

Cold Eye looks around, searching for some way to use the environment to her advantage, finding it in a heavy sheet of metal a good two and a half meters above ground that seems to balance on a knifes edge, ready to slip and fall. It must weight a good 200 or 300 pounds and the edges are serated. If she manages to run there, jump and give it a hard enough punch, it might loosen itself and come flying into the fray, which... might at least do more damage then her knife, if she is incredibly lucky. As she starts to sprint towards it, her mind races to the thought of the stealer being right on her heels and eviscerating her before she even gets the chance to do her thing. So she can only hope ithe monster will occupy itself with her comrads first.

As John changes to his shockmaul and givven that Bucks combat shotgun has so far be the weapon that has hurt it the most, the stealer turns towards the imposing underhiver with grim determination, fixed on killing his next target. Rho remains, especially the mechanical bits, keep clinging to it though and it needs a crucial moment to shake free.

Buck visibly swallows, his jaw clenched tight, fully aware that this will spell his bloody and spectacular end, should you not bring the Tyranid creature down. He levels his combat shotgun at the things belly and lets loose with the reat of his ammo, until you only hear the "clickclickcklick" of his empty magazin. The slugs hit the beast in the cheast and while you see with a sinking gut feeling that none of the slugs penetrated, they do seem to drive the breath from its torso enough to give the thing serious pause.


What happens next is... kind of a surprise, but a welcome one. John can see Cold-Eye sprinting away, but realizes a moment later that she is not abandoning you, but instead jumping towards a large metal sheet leaning tilted on a scrap heap beside you, grabbing hold at one side and throwing all her weight into it to loosen it. The massive piece of sharp cornered metal comes loose and slides sideways, hitting Cold-Eye in the head, leaving a nasty gash, but then axxelerating. As it flies down, it gets a bit too high though, missing the genestealers head that it pulls down just in time. But while it does not get decapitated by the debris, the sheet half lands on it, further pinning it down - just in time for Loisys grenade to slip in between the stealer and the metal plate. This way John is kind of shielded from the shrapnell, as the oversized Frag grenade goes off, bulging the metal cover like a hedgehog and lifting it up from the stealer.
The monster cries in pain, as the shrappnell lacerates it in a thousand places. Yet still the thing lives and tries to claw its way back into the fight.


It's this moment, that John comes onto it, levelling his shock mal repeatedly at the terrifying maw of the thing, sending shockwaves throughout its neurons until it succumbs into unconciousness.


Out cold on the ground, but still breathing, it is Loisy how finally stand above the stealer, breathing heavily, tears of strain and trauma streaming down his face, as he levels his laspistol towards the back of the head of the monster haunting him since yeards and emptying his magazine, until the it is no more.




From further up the caravan, fighting suddenly seems to turn very onesided as you hear screams and wails of agony from the assailants over there, all of them quickly falling to the caravans other protectors or running away in panick, only to fall victim to the dangerous environment of the underhive. It looks like this fight has turned in your favor - but at what cost...
As John, Cold-Eye and Loisy take a desperate look at what little remains of Rho and Gaston, Loisy finds and takes the soldiers dog tag. A moment later Pearson appears at your side, buck in tow. Both of them are quite shaken too, but have a determined look on their faces. "Sorry about your friends. But stop acting dumb. I think we all know what the old gheezer is worth. I'm not insensible, you did most of the work. But now you have two shares less if it gets to the reward. Buck and I get one of those and we call it quits and nobody else needs to be cut in. Agreed? By the way, old man: better you start playing the dumb servitor again, before anyone else notices..."

It takes John a moment to come to his senses as the adrenalin starts to come down from the combat. He once again sheathes the shock maul and looks to the underhivers.

He looks genuine shocked and saddened to see Gaston and Rho dead and turns his head away quickly from them.

"It's hard to say what the reward will be. Anything can happen once we get up-hive. But I do know one thing. The price of failing to deliver this old man to the uphive is that of our lives. So I'll agree to your terms, but just be mindful, once we all get up there, it's all out of my hands and you'll be taking your chances with the Commissars and Emperor knows who else."

Loisy's sight was still blurred, and all he listened was like filtered and dampened. He had lost most of his recent memories, indeed, he himself was kind of wondering how he get there in the first place... Vague fragments of a big fight and of directing a planet wide defense flashed through his mind incoherently, as he struggled to have this make sense...

He looked at the dog tag, and painfully asked, in a choked voice "What happened? How did we get there? Who are you all?"

Cold Eye splashed her gashed wound with a bit of water, and bandaged herself up as best she could. Her limbs felt like they weighted hundreds of pounds. She listened to the Badge talking with the Smugglers.

She didn't too much like what he had to say, and turned to the beast. She got closer to its corpse, and gave it a sniff. She hadn't smelled a creature like this before. She kicked it to make sure it was dead, and then leaned over and began cutting one of its ferocious talons off with her knife.

As she worked at it her thoughts wondered just a bit. She was starting to wonder if the Uphivers would ever actually pay her the fuel rod she needed. They were not trustworthy folks, no one was. Maybe, it was safer to just to scuttle back into the Sump? Afterall, she knew what to expect down there, things like this beast. Uphive, the dangers would be more.... human.

She finally worked the talon free, and slipped it into her kit. That would be a fine prize, maybe make a good cutter or scraper. Perhaps, she could carve it a bit?

She muttered to herself, "Best to play the hand out." She was ready to see where this went. Her tribe needed that Fuel Rod to keep going.

 Maréchal des Logis Walter wrote:
Loisy's sight was still blurred, and all he listened was like filtered and dampened. He had lost most of his recent memories, indeed, he himself was kind of wondering how he get there in the first place... Vague fragments of a big fight and of directing a planet wide defense flashed through his mind incoherently, as he struggled to have this make sense...

He looked at the dog tag, and painfully asked, in a choked voice "What happened? How did we get there? Who are you all?"

John looked at Loisy and took his helmet off to stare directly at him with his cold grey eyes.

"Sir, we're here to rescue you

. But the extraction is not yet completed, so I'd advise you to remain silent until you're back to where you belong." [/size]

Hey! The Cardinal was not a bad guy! Just..... misunderstood!

With Pearson and Buck in on the fold, you successfully cover up the reason for the attack on the caravan towards the other members of it, who ultimately put it down as just another, more mutated than usual, scavenger group.
The Governor does indeed seem to be almost up to his own self, but heeds Pearsons recommendation to stick to the "dumb servitor" routine, your lot made it far enough uphive for his VIP status to provide some form of protection. Finally you reach one of the giant, sealable hangar doors marking the border between the more or less civilized mid- and upper hive on the one side and the lawless underhive on the other. It is well guarded with several check points and a good platoon of Kalinese soldiers. As the Governor reveals himself, his men are baffled to say the least, before the crowd errupts in cheers realizing that their idol - one of the saviours of the chaos incursion that almost brought the hive to its heels - has indeed succeeded in the imposible and returned from the dead. John, Cold Eye and their two newfound companions get celebrated for their effort, enduring countless handshakes, shoulderclaps and spontanous toasts on their health, while Gastons sacrifice earns a lot more somber notes, mixed with a modicum of pride that one of theirs did the ultimate sacrifice to bring their commander back.

As Cold Eye and Pearson are both kind of weary really going into the upper hive, they part ways with Loisy here, but the VIP more then holds his end of the bargain. Pearson and Buck get their "cut" in the form of some exclusive passport which in a lot of fine upperhive writing blabber basically gives them a free pass to get a crate or two through the checkpoint without it being taxed, or even looked at, every week - quite a boon for an aspiring smuggler who plans to make a living out of it. Satisfied by that he bides his fairwell to Loisy and John, but offers Cold-Eye that he does have a job for her and her tribe, if she wants it...
Cold Eye gets not only one fuel rod, but 2 of them, and a whole crate of lasguns with their powerpacks and a small generator to charge them. Alltogether an incredible game changer for her tribe, as they wouldn't have to worry about ammunition anymore. Of corse far too much to be carried by herself, but instead she is to return downhive with a significant troop of elite soldiers, send by Loisy to pick up the track of the stealer you killed. As you could say you involuntarily picked up the best track in years to root out this sickness.

John returns to his work, being showered in gratifications of various forms too, including him basically being able to choose whichever promotion he wants to, early retirement on a luxurius salary or the like. The Governor is not an ungrateful man...

Loisy return to the highest echelons of the hive on the other hand shake things up pretty heavily. As he soon learns, Gaussenberg did not survive the attack, and his successor von Bülow seemed to have failed to regain the position the old Administrator once had. While he still has the reigns of the Administratum fast in his hands, he lacks the view on the "bigger picture" his predecessor always had, thus leaving the balance of power in disarray between Loisy and the Cardinal.
But first and foremost the returning General sees his fears of Genestealer cults brewing in the rotten intestines of the hive confirmed and starts planning how to root out this evil once and for good and if the Cardinal is a rotten egg to be adressed now or further down the road. Either way what he first needs is trustworthy allies, which he soon finds in the Adeptus Mechanicus he already had a good standing in. Repentent from the sins of their former Fabricator General, they welcome Loisys friendly attention with open arms, providing advisors and consultants and overall assistance whereever they can - and securing very lucrative contracts on the way.

Now and then, over a cold beer, John keeps wondering that it was indeed quite a lucky coincidence that Rho had exactly the parts, implants and tools with her to fix Loisys brain damage. Just as if her supervisors had already expected the General would return with a neural implant made and maintained by the cult mechanicus... An implant that provides him with the wisdom and insight to drive for closer ties to the priesthood of Mars...

This implant was a marvel. Every day, Loisy regained clearer memories of what had happened, clearer view and easier movements. In fact, after a few weeks, it seemed as if he even got better, making calculuses on the fly he could never have resolved before... But his world, on the other hand, was in disarray. Lucky he did in fact implement extremely strict measures to combat the Cults... Now, the war effort against it was in full motion, and he made sure that the wider imperium knew he was back in business and rooting out the plague. Meantime governor Richmond had done no good nowhere, and he'd need to fix all of this, put he had a new mmod for himself: one that leaned towards diplomacy rather than bursts of anger, and he was making sure he'd rally the mecanicum and the administratum as powerful allies behind his banner to make the vison comme further: Imperial Guard world, with the priesthood pushing for it, more and more likely arsenal world...

Loisy was truly saddened to hear that von Gaussenberg had made the ultimate sacrifice in his commintment to the Imperium. A tear formed on the side of his eye, as he offered a prayer and a praise to that brave man... The one that ever was closest to a friend he had had...

What the future reserves to the saved governor, now one knows. He owed gratitude to the underhiver who saved him, but he felt like this was a generosity that could come back to bite him later on. Although, he thought, that old fool of Friedrich and his civilian compassion did get the best of me after all. Loisy would often go and honor the memorial to that old comrade.

And with this, the future was wide open for him and Saint Bonifacius Reach...