Escape From Ripag's Watch - A chaos Space Marine Quest

[ItsChon]

D&G

 

[Azira]

A&F

 

[Kalarion]

B - the outcast and dispossessed are always the prime source of recruits for any Chaos insurrection, no reason they shouldn't be here too.

G - junior officers are always an excellent source of information about the goings-on of their higher-ups. Intelligence on what the bridge crew and other senior officers are doing will be priceless.

 

[True Ukrainian]

BD

 

[baud]

So the current tally is:

B - Oucasts - 6
G - Junior officers- 5
D - Armsmen - 3
F - Minoris Shrines - 1
A - Mechanicus - 1

Again thanks for all the votes!

I'll keep the vote open for a few more days, let's say until the 29th. And I'll try to have the next part ready before the end of the year/early January

 

[Major_Blackhart]

Wicked hawt.

 

[Azira]

Yay me! I voted for options noone else took. :D

 

[hello friend]

BD

 

[Demo.Graph]

AF, if it's still acceptable.
A - for the possibility of killing everyone on board or getting some cool trinket.
F - because turning fanatics to chaos should be easier than schmucks. And those fanatics might be butthurt at SOBs.

 

[baud]

Part IV: Unseen wretches and tarnished gold

Option voted:
B - Oucasts - 7
G - Junior officers- 5

Secreted away in a forgotten storeroom, strewn with discarded ration packaging dating back from the previous millennium, you address Zephus and Frax, filling them in your plans.

"Frax, go and access the cogitator-machines in the junior officers quarters and offices, we'll look into that once I and Zephus are done; that information will save us some time. You remember how to…"

"Yes, I remember the way that Zephus found the other cycle," Frax answers, manners made surly by frustration, from the lack of action while in close proximity to throngs of corpse-worshippers. "Past the lower port generatorium and up the red concourse, with the entrance opposite of the board listing the regulations of the ratcatchers’ guild. And as for the cogitators, no problems, Imperial cogheads are misguided idiots."

"Don't forget that maintenance teams use the concourse to move to the lower port quadrant, you'll have to time you move right to stay undetected." Zephus points out even as he checks the stump ending his left arm, a grim souvenir of the fight in the Imperial command centre back on Ripag’s Watch.

"And even if the deluded wretches of the Mechanicus of Mars are fools, do not underestimate them; your priority is to remain undetected, over getting results if needed, Frax." you continue.

"Understood. And you?"

"The wretches, outcasts and mutants who roam the ship beyond the control of the crew should be an able source of cannon fodder for the upcoming fight. And who can say what sort of secrets they might share, as they crawl in the dark corners of the ship, out of sight and out mind… Zephus will accompany me." you answer, "We'll meet at the upper bellow gate at the port end of the red concourse in one and a half cycle. Or at least leave another rendez-vous there. Now let us be off."

As they nod their assent, you give one last blessing before moving out: "Lorgar is with us, Chaos within us, damnation clothes us and none can stand against us."

====✳====​

Again you covertly move through the ship, avoiding the scrutiny of armsmen, Inquisition agents and sororitas in addition to the glazed looks of crewmembers. It rankles you to hide like this, when you should be preaching the ways of Chaos to them, fighting the reluctants or leading the converts, but you bid your time. Zephus led you in the underbelly of the ship, where the maintenance efforts are sparser and sparser, with rusted metal, pipes leaking into pools of dark liquid, blinking or broken glow globes being more and more prevalent, until you reach the dark holds, beyond the cursory attention of the crewmembers. You had noted the presence of outcasts and mutants there in your previous forays, in lesser numbers than expected on a ship of this size, but hadn't done more than that.

First you spot a few wretched survivors, single or small groups, either too broken by the harsh onboard discipline or browbeaten by living in the dreadful environemnt of the dark holds to do more than simply survive miserably in a dark, forgotten corner. They are of no use to you, except maybe as a paltry sacrifice, so you leave them at their sorry fate and move deeper. You then spot a group of outcasts, hidden in an half-empty bilge tank, looking as if they had recently fled the slave pens and still holding some spark of hatred against their former masters which would be of some value in the coming days. You send Zephus to deal with them while you move deeper, until you reach the darkest areas of the ship, where seemingly no crew member had ventured since the ship took to the void. Soon enough you spot the tracks left by a group of mutants, but again their numbers seem much lower than expected, even on a small vessel like this one.

You approach the miserable dwellings of the mutant tribe, cunningly hidden in a twist of the ship's arteries, out of sight of most mortals. They know you are coming, you had felt their eyes on you since you arrived in that section, but they've let you walk unimpeded, instead awaiting you in their refuge: as you enter you can gaze on their twisted forms and while some mutations are from interbreeding, stellar radiation, chemical contamination or other mundane reasons, the rest have the oily wrongness characteristic of those born by the blessed powers of the Warp. Three hissing mutants, more foolhardy than the cowering rest, jump at you, trying to drag you down, but you easily sidestep their clumsy lunges and slap them away. To calm the rest, you throw some scraps of food stolen from the imperials for this purpose. Behind the mutants you spot totems made of human bone, their gnawed ends showing the fate of their owners, surrounding crude altars dedicated to a primitive deity, seemingly a mix of the ship itself and some warp wyrd spirit, which would manifest in the areas where the geller field is thinner, like the dark holds.

Before you can start your preach, The crowd parts for one you recognise as their leader, his misshapen shape unbalanced by one arm with the knuckles dragging on the dirty floor and the other little more than a stump protruding from his should. And despite lacking eyes, he turns his face straight at you, empty, weeping eye sockets boring into you "Bearer of Eightfold truth of Ether. You walk metal home. I, Seeing-Blind-One, speak for tribe. What you seek for ship kin?" The blind mutant asks you in debased gothic, speech coming slurred from a malformed mouth.

"Ship tribe, blessed by the power of Warp, I, Procrus, Bear Word from the True Powers of this universe! Too long have you crawled in the dark, come, follow me and you will take your rightful place in the hallowed of this ship!" You start, but when the mutants realise you talk about leaving their pitiful dens and the depths of the ship, they recoil and start whispering fearfully. You catch the words of metal and men and are about to ask when Seeing-Blind-One cuts, speech barely legible. "Close to the light, close to the heat, the metal men! They come! And cut and slash! Cut and slash! Many kin dead!"

"Wretched creatures! The gifts of the Warp should have allowed you to beat back any human, however heavily armed they were." You counter angrily, looming over the group.

"Too strong! Hit them and nothing! Never tire, never stop. Not humans!" The mutant continues to wail.

"Not humans…" You think on these words a moment, with everything else you had seen since entering the depths of the ship. "What else can you say about this 'metal men'?"

"Human, but not. Arms metal. Strong more than big kin." This time you catch the answer from another mutant, body ruined by radiation, flakes of skin falling down as she’s shaking.

At this you connect the dots, understanding that the ship has been making use of servitors to handle the endless task of 'policing' the lower decks, specifically murder servitors, a type that's specialised in close combat in tight quarters and sometime associated with Inquisition operations. You try to explain that: "Seems like a pack of servitors, automata made of human bodies and techno-arcana, they must be deployed periodically to cull you and any other outcasts." the idea "Did you see where they came from?"

At this, from your questions and demeanour, the mutants calm a little and from what they answer you gather that the servitors seem to come from below the 'body dead place', located amidship, which would be some sort of maintenance and storage area for those servitors.

"These 'metal men' are just tools controlled from this place, toys cobbled together by the fools from Mars and they will not stop me!" Though you privately add that disabling them or even better, taking control of them, would greatly help you in your venture. "I have fought them and their taskmasters already on a thousand worlds under the starry void and I still stand, blessed by the powers of the Warp! The same powers that have already blessed you will be with us."

As the tribe has rallied to your word, you put your hand on Seeing-Blind-One's shoulder and say "Your days of hiding in the dark are soon to an end. Join me. Follow me. Together we will rise up against those who seek to kill you, to exterminate you, just because of the gifts you received!" Turning towards the rest "Gather your strength and prepare for battle! And be ready to move on my signal, as the time is near."

You also try to ask if they know anything else of value, but their isolation from the ship prevented them from learning much else. The gathered mutants still look hesitant at the idea of rising up, but they'll serve when the time comes to take control of the ship. And afterwards, you'll see...
You finish your time there in a short ceremony to properly dedicate the altars to the Dark Gods before you retrace your steps, coming upon Zephus.

"Mutants didn't try to make a meal out of you?" he asks derisively, as he's sharpening a knife on his ceramite vambrace.

"Some did try, but I explained them the error of their ways." And you continue by explaining what you had found, with Zephus agreeing that murder servitors are the likely culprit and that they should be targeted in priority, preferably before the start of the fighting when they'd still be inactive. As for himself, the outcasts had taken some 'convincing', but he’s brought them to your side. They know of a lightly guarded route into one of the slave pens and will be ready to attack on your signal.

With the matters there dealt with, you move up toward your rendez-vous with Frax, to continue plotting the downfall of the current masters of the ship.

====✳====​

You had been observing the officers for a few hours already, using the files Frax had retrieved to identify priority targets among them, plotting on killing them before or at the start of the attack for maximum effect. Looking at a mess room, where the officers are gathering to share a drink after their shift had ended or to drink some recaf before, served by a handful of stewards. You are listening to one of your potential targets, Able Montsara, the second master-at-arms, whose death might prevent the organisation of an effective defence, but right now he’s just blathering about alcoholic vintages. Useless! But your time spend observing that room won’t be a complete waste of time as you see another officer stepping in: dressed in junior officer uniform, a plain face under a regulation haircut, left arm replaced by a gunmetal grey augmentic, but most remarkable are her eyes, burning with boundless ambition and the ruthlessness to see it fulfilled. It is not the first ambitious officer you've seen aboard and nothing would differentiate Lupa Dal’Irate from her brethren, except from the files Frax had procured you, with notations like

Competent at her post… good leader but should work to show proper respect to her superiors…
Does not show the proper devotion to the Emperor expected on an officer… missed office of the day of the Red Martyrs…
Despite that she shows too much ambition for her station…
Lead her sailors in pushing back a boarding party at the cost of her arm…
Officer Dal'Irate has a strong grasp of the technical aspects of spaceship command… but I am reluctant to recommend her for further promotion…
She recently administered herself the required punishment of twenty lashes to a subordinate who failed in his duty…
While it has been noted she participated in a cabal against signal officer Reestheus Mir’Pont for moral failings, I think she only took part for advancement opportunities …

Marking her as a potential recruit, competent and ruthless enough that she’ll be useful, while not too loyal to her hierarchy that bringing her to your side would be an impossible prospect within your time frame. Her posting as shift officer gives her also enough authority that she would prove an useful asset when taking control of the ship and she would likely have access to secured locations, including the bridge.

But it would take some time to recruit her, you’d have to engineer proper conditions for that. Time that wouldn't be spent gathering information on the rest of the officers…

A. Recruit her
B. Continue to gather information on all junior officers

AN: the murder servitors are one of the nasty surprises the crew had in store for when you attack; learning about it beforehand would allow you to counter them before the attack.
Also I had expected to finish this chapter much earlier, but I didn’t dedicate enough time for that (I blame video games) and perhaps went into too much details in the second part (I think that's the longest part in all of my writings so far here); maybe I’ll try to aim for something more for the concise next part.

 

[Kalarion]

A. Ambition, amorality, personal drive. And still so very human. Perfect underling material. What's not to like?

 

[ItsChon]

Also I had expected to finish this chapter much earlier, but I didn’t dedicate enough time for that (I blame video games) and perhaps went into too much details in the second part (I think that's the longest part in all of my writings so far here); maybe I’ll try to aim for something more for the concise next part.

The second part was great though! For me it was the perfect amount of detail and it helps set the tone for the story. Obviously it's much more work, but it would be great if all parts in general were along those lines, obviously with you adding details when and where you think it's necessary, versus the more concise cliffnotes version which focus on the "game" aspect of the CHYOA.

A.

 

[oscar]

A

I don't think you'll get many B's

 

[Demo.Graph]

We need a lAdy for spAce pirAting.

 

[ERYFKRAD]

B. It's probably a trap in more ways than one.

 

[Azira]

DEVOUR SOUL!!

Erhm, I mean, A.

 

[hello friend]

B

 

[baud]

Also I had expected to finish this chapter much earlier, but I didn’t dedicate enough time for that (I blame video games) and perhaps went into too much details in the second part (I think that's the longest part in all of my writings so far here); maybe I’ll try to aim for something more for the concise next part.

The second part was great though! For me it was the perfect amount of detail and it helps set the tone for the story. Obviously it's much more work, but it would be great if all parts in general were along those lines, obviously with you adding details when and where you think it's necessary, versus the more concise cliffnotes version which focus on the "game" aspect of the CHYOA.

It was also a little disheartening for me to see the chapter moves at a snail pace for more than a month, though that's also explained as I usually work by small bits and piece, like 10 minutes during a bus ride or 5 minutes when I'm bored at work. But thank you for your words, it feels good to know it was appreciated.

A

I don't think you'll get many B's

Honestly? I didn't expect either and I was planning for the vote to go in that direction (including in elements I prepared for the next part). But even then I think it's nice to give you the choice (and it also gave me a good place to stop the current chapter)

 

[Major_Blackhart]

A. She's gonna be the new 40k waifu ala Lotara Sarrin.

 

[baud]

A. She's gonna be the new 40k waifu ala Lotara Sarrin.

It's not exactly what I was expecting for the character
But then in that case it's more or less out of my hands

 

[baud]

Part V: Veritas Tenebrarum

Ensign Lupa Dal'Irate stifled an annoyed yawn as she walks toward superior's office, making good progress across the familiar passageways from her assigned station. She doesn't understand the summon she had received, sending her across the ship halfway through her shift even as final preparations for the warp translation out of the Ripag's Watch system are in progress. Her superior, Doneme Luftza, rarely asked for her like this, at least without good reason, so she had entrusted her task to a subordinate before leaving.

Walking through the supply gantries and the lower menial workshops, she can clearly see how the crew was on edge, between the simple fact of sailing around such a cursed area of space, that another Dark Crusade has ended, leaving a messy situation and all manner of stragglers, detritus, unexploded ordnance, late-coming glory hounds and paranoid commanders, to say nothing of the two group of passengers they are carrying: as if the inquisition wasn’t bad enough, now they had a group of heavily armed zealots on top of that, with both groups eyeing each others warily for some inscrutable reason.
In addition to the usual noises of a travelling ship, prayer hymnals are being broadcast throughout the ship in preparation for the Warp translation, but more than anything, they are another annoyance and a constant reminder of the dangers they are about to subject themselves to.

Her train of thoughts gets broken when she realises that the corridor she is walking in is empty, leaving her alone for a brief moment, a rare occurrence on the ship which is as crowded as any ground-bound hive city. The second realisation is that the hymnals had imperceptibly shifted into something unintelligible, strings of sounds forming words, but each time she thinks she understands one, her mind sputters and loses itself, leaving behind a festering hole of confusion and an undercurrent of unspeakable power. But before she can move further, darkness engulfs the corridor. Darkness, heavy and cloying, so unlike the gloom that settles when power is cut and emergency lumens fail to light, rather in the same way the ship's fire alert sirens would cover any other sound, darkness had covered out all sources of light and was reigning supreme.
If the ship hadn't been still in realspace, Lupa would have thought it was an ill-omened echo of the hellish realms they were crossing, despite the protection of the gellar field. She scrambles back, she should reach the bulkhead, the door of that section after a few steps, but instead of her hands closing on the cold metal of the ship, they meet only empty air and she's left stumbling in the dark, lost.

"I have seen the truth of your ambition. You know what it is."

A voice, deeper than any she had heard, deeper even than the grunts that had originated from the bellow-like chests of the ogryn troops she had seen on Belis Corona, but with cultured accents worthy of any nobility, planetary or space-born.

In a trance-like state Lupa faintly answers "To command…"

"And yet you linger on that mediocre post... Aren't you tired of playing second fiddle to the incompetents, too blind to see your true worth or the jealous, who undermine you at every step to keep you down in fear of your talents? You are worth so much more…"

Lupa can sense the presence of the speaker, massive, like a black hole who after removing all light is pulling her ever closer.

"Who are you? What do you want?"

"I am one who can offer what you truly want. Or at least the means to achieve it, if you so desire." The voice takes a seductive turn with these words and Lupa shudders.

"And I am wary of strangers bearing gifts in the dark."

"I only ask for your service. You would command the ship, carrying me and my allies as our duties and destinies take us."

"And how would you propose we do that, do you have a ship for me to command?"

"Yes, this one. At least soon enough, it will be." Even in the dark, the smirk is audible. "And it will be even sooner with your help."

The darkness then shifts and a silhouette dimly appears, as if lit by its inner light. Tall and wide, covered in heavy plate, in a shape that she recognizes, common in the chapels and public monuments throughout the Segmentum, but antiquated and twisted, much unlike the angelic figures cast in bronze or marble she's familiar with.

"An Astarte?..." she murmurs, with a voice tinged with awe.

"Yes. But one of the wayward sons, cast out by an ungrateful leader after we had fought and bled to build his empire, but in this he gave us freedom from the shackles he keeps on his lackeys! Free to find the Truth of this universe, far from the rote dogma of a decaying, rotten lie!"

"The Emperor…"

"Was just a warlord whose only claim to rule was being the last survivor in the scramble to control humanity's cradle! He's not worth your worship or loyalty! Or anyone's!"

As the voice continues, anger and hatred flowing thick, the light increases, illuminating

A) an armour festooned with trophies: empty bullet casings, blade fragments, pieces of shattered armour, scraps of parchment or banner, bits of pelt, scalp or skin, broken claws and teeth. Even the armour plates are covered in tallies, of victories and kills accrued across a thousand battlefields.
B) an armour, while well maintained, shorn of any ornament, just adamantium and ceramite, with barely nothing of the original paint and insignias remaining, leaving visible only the scars and repairs left by centuries of war.
C) an armour decorated with engraving of snarling daemons, while other plates carry proscribed texts, with dark parchment nailed to the shoulder pads carrying more writings.
D) write in...

"I would just exchange one master for another." Answers Lupa, realising what the offer entails.

"You would command the ship. Not as a subordinate, but rather as an equal in a sworn compact. And while the path to glory is hard and fraught with perils, the rewards are great, greater than you can fathom: for one such as you, you could achieve so much more than under the Imperium's dreadful yoke." The speaker continues, spreading his arms and at his side appear two more space marines, one in armour polished to a dull sheen, short swords and knives visible on his belt, the other wielding a shotgun bigger than her tight, his armour decorated with chaotic runes and sigils.

"So, what do you say, ensign Lupa Dal'Irate?"

Trying to stall for time, to decide whether to take the plunge in the yawning abyss which had just opened before her feet, Lupa asks: "And if I refuse?"

"You are a keen girl, I am sure you have an idea of what would happen if you do. Though I don't think Imperials look well upon those who brook with traitors, especially when carrying such suspicious passengers…"

Caught between the implied threats, she presses on "Assuming I accept, how would you take the ship?"

"Oh, just a combination of manipulation, threats and violence, against anyone who would object to our takeover. Of course your collaboration would greatly reduce the efforts required to accomplish such an endeavour."

"And the Inquisition? And… and the Sororitas?" The fear she feels at the idea of being dealt by either group tinting her voice.

"Death, for both. But I don't think many will miss such hidebound zealotry or bloodthirsty paranoia."

At least I won't, though Lupa, as long as they can do it… or we can do it. Finally, taking a deep breath and after a moment of silence, Lupa finally says "Then I... accept."

"Excellent! Come closer, that we may seal this compact" says the space marine, gesturing at her.

"Before, who are you?..." Lupa cuts.

"I forget myself! I am Procrus and here are Zephus and Frax, of the Word Bearers Legion, exalted scions of the Urizen, the great Lorgar Aurelian. Now operating as the warband Procrus' Reivers, a little diminished after a few setbacks, but this ship will be the first step in rebuilding it.", the space marine explains, pointing to the two others.

"No, no, don't need to kneel. We are between equals here, remember?" Lupa, who wasn't making any move to kneel, just stands at arm's length of the space marine, who removes the armour gauntlet covering his right hand. A killer's hand, thinks Lupa at the vision of the scarred appendage, taut muscles rippling under the skin, big enough that it could easily hold her full head between its thick fingers.

"An oath in blood. It may seem barbaric to you, but there is power, some primal truth revealed in such offerings." Procrus holds out his hand and Zephus cuts across the palm, drops of blood falling on the decking.
Seeing this, Lupa imitates him, unsheathing her cutlass just enough to cut her hand in a similar way, wincing at the sting. At the same time, screeching sirens tear through the air, sending her heart racing. Warp translation imminent… Has so much time already passed?

Procrus, undaunted by the noise, or maybe even buoyed by what it signals, speaks, his voice easily cutting through the din.
"Under the fortuitous auspices of the Dark Gods and with their blessings, we expand our compact to include you, Lupa Dal'Irate, so that we may all walk the paths to glory."

Lupa holds her bleeding hand up, where it's clasped in Procrus', disappearing in the much bigger one. The grip is firm and solid, not crushing, but she can feel the strength behind it, which can reduce her limb to bloody mulch in less than a heartbeat.

"On our intermingled blood, do you swear to be loyal to the compact?"

"I do! On our blood!" Lupa shouts as the sirens reach a crescendo, nearly drowning her voice. As she finishes, with a blood-curdling scream that's more felt than heard, the ship enters the Warp.

---

AN: So I went for a change of perspective for this part, but next time we’re back with Procrus. The choice here is mostly 'cosmetic' as in it doesn't have an impact directly on what's to come, but it allowed me to concentrate on Lupa's recruitment and to characterise our character further. To be clear, it's a retroactive choice, Procrus would have had that armour from the start, it just hadn't been described in detail yet.

 

[hello friend]

Cool update - reads like a sorceror summoning a demon from hell, which is a fitting angle for Word Bearers conducting ideological subversion.

D) A combination of B) and C). Unadorned, bare and functional armour but festooned with all manner of proscribed liturgical texts and so on.

 

[baud]

Cool update - reads like a sorceror summoning a demon from hell, which is a fitting angle for Word Bearers conducting ideological subversion.

D) A combination of B) and C). Unadorned, bare and functional armour but festooned with all manner of proscribed liturgical texts and so on.

that's a nice idea! Thanks

 

[Demo.Graph]

B or hello friend's D.

 

[ItsChon]

Fantastic update. I’ll go with Hello Friends D