The Ruinous Powers (40K CYOA)

[lightbane]

ITZ BACK!

 

[Cheesecake]

Good to be back

Anyways, here's the rest :p

----

"All I want," you say, your face tantalizingly close to hers, "is to get to know you..."

She arches a brow, eyes darting around inconspicuously, looking if the coast was clear. "I'd tell you, but the Master's plans are currently in motion. I have to get my men 'indoctrinated', before he can finish."

You look at the men training. From your combat experience as a merc yourself, these men are clearly deviating from the normal battle litanies and catechisms taught by the Ecclesiarchy. Their curse words would be blasphemous on some worlds, and even their appearance is beginning to show signs of corruption. Their holy icons are misplaced. Their eyes are hollow, their flesh pallid. Although, there are a few men, clearly devout and faithful to the Corpse-God.

"The work of Tempestus. Some troops remain stubbornly faithful because of him. He's the one they fear most on this ship." She pauses, reminiscing. "There's what I call a 'fear' order on this ship. There's the captain. After him is Detox, for some reason." So she can't see through his facade.... "Then there's me, not to brag. Finally, Tempestus."

"What's so scary about some pallid preacher?"

Hooker raises an eyebrow and scoffs. "He isn't some doomsayer on an agri-world. He's a death-cult assassin. Or was. They declared his murder-guild Excommunicate Traitoris a decade ago. Tempestus is a sanctioned mass-murderer, and his penance can only be atoned through serial killing."

"So, silencer and sniper, or up-close cloak and dagger?" you ask jokingly.

"He goaded fanatics into suicide bombings, poisoned water supplies, set flames to crops. He wanted sinners to starve. To suffer before they repented."

"He's got to go," you state.

"Of course. The problem is we don't actually know who he is and what he looks like. He changes his appearance every so often, and most of his sermons are pre-recorded with altered voices. I don't even know if he's still on board." She sighs as one of the squads begins goofing off. "Look, I'd love to chat, but these men need to learn about their new 'employers'."

You decide to:

A. Tell the captain what the prisoners told you.
B. Talk to Detox.
C. Talk to Entek.
D. Look for Tempestus.
E. Wander the ship.
F. Do something else.

 

[Baltika9]

A, let's check in with the captain, see what he knows about this preacher.

 

[Nevill]

B, let's check in with the captain, see what he knows about this preacher.

It is sad, but Detox is not the captain. Nor do I think we want to talk to him after shafting Papa Nurgle of his gift.

E. Wander the ship.

Surprise option!

 

[Smashing Axe]

I'm swinging between A and C.

Cheesecake, do you think it'd be possible if we could have a character sheet listing our abilities and such?

A>C for now

 

[ERYFKRAD]

EDIT: Nah, let's see what D brings.

 

[Cheesecake]

Current character sheet

Name: Lena Cythriel

Gifts:
Daemoniac Tongue
Tough Skin
Perfection

Favor:
Khorne - Hated
Nurgle - Slighted, favored
Tzeentch - Uncaring
Slaanesh - Favored

Known Characters:
The Captain - Hated
Detox, apothecary - Beloved
Hooker, sergeant - Indifferent
Entek, tech-priest - Indifferent
Tempestus, chaplain - Indifferent
Sorcerer - Unknown

Items:
Prisoner Uniform

Location:
Mercenary vessel, Scourge of Wealth

Here you go! I'll add this at the start of every update and change it accordingly. Gifts have been changed, too, with the Slaaneshi gifts strengthening and the Nurglish gifts weakening.

 

[Major_Blackhart]

C

 

[lightbane]

Well, after so long I'm a bit lost about what were we supposed to do.

C, let's talk to the guy with tentacles. It is the most "Slaaneshi" choice.

 

[Kipeci]

A, show him that we're giving some use before he throws us into the vacuum.

 

[Endemic]

C.

 

[hello friend]

C

Q: What's the deal with 'frak'? People don't swear in the grim future of 40k or what?

 

[Cheesecake]

C

Q: What's the deal with 'frak'? People don't swear in the grim future of 40k or what?

A: I got it from Ciaphas Cain and Eagle Ordinary :p It's Low Gothic for fuck. The Tanith dialect is Feth :p

 

[Cheesecake]

Votes

A: Baltkia9, Smashing Axe, Kipeci, The Brazilian Slaughter 4
B:
C: (Smashing Axe), Major_Blackhart, lightbane, Endemic, hello friend 4(5)
D: ERYFKRAD 1
E: Nevill 1
F:

Current character sheet

Name: Lena Cythriel

Gifts:
Daemoniac Tongue
Tough Skin
Perfection

Favor:
Khorne - Hated
Nurgle - Slighted, favored
Tzeentch - Uncaring
Slaanesh - Favored

Known Characters:
The Captain - Hated
Detox, apothecary - Beloved
Hooker, sergeant - Indifferent
Entek, tech-priest - Indifferent, annoyed
Tempestus, chaplain - Indifferent
Sorcerer - Unknown

Items:
Prisoner Uniform

Location:
Mercenary vessel, Scourge of Wealth

You exit the training chambers and traverse the Scourge. You find yourself in the sweltering engine temples of the ship, domain of the tech-priest Entek. Slaves and servitors alike labor mindlessly in the lethal and toxic workplace, many falling to their deaths from the precarious railings. Even then, they don't care enough to scream. Thankfully, your path to his office is much safer. Incense and oil blend in an appalling odor, unfortunately perfumed everywhere near his office.

You call for the tech-priest to meet you, yourself unwilling to bear anymore of the scent of unguents and plasma fumes. A buzzing static answers from the door - the binary language of the Cult Mechanicus. Despite it being unintelligible without augmetic implants, you can still hear the tone of irritation in the static. A moment later, the blastdoor opens, and the hooded priest steps out.

The once-red robe of the priest is now a rainbow of rust and oil. Beneath the hood is a tangle of coiling wires, tubing and glowing lights. Green, glowing lenses shutter and click, his eyes, scanning the environment and you. Soft hisses of cooling air vent from his face. The tech-priest himself is easily the largest crewmember in the ship, with the extensive machine implants and grafted bionics he stands taller than the Captain.

Schkkkkkkkkkkkkkk.

"What?"

"STATEMENT: Greetings." The machine-man sighs, and speaks in a synthetic voice. "I forgot, your feeble ears cannot comprehend the language of the enlightened." His body clicks and whirs impatiently. "INTERROGATIVE: What do you want? If you delay me a minute more, engine efficiency will drop 0.00034%." He mutters a prayer in binary. "A most unacceptable blasphemy."

You've dealt with the magos of the Machine Cult before. They've probably got a timer or something before they leave. You decide to ask Entek:

A. Ask him about the ship.
B. Ask him about the crew.
C. Ask him about the armory.
D. Ask him if he knows the Sorcerer.
E. Ask him something else.

 

[ERYFKRAD]

C.

 

[Baltika9]

A>C

 

[lightbane]

C>B. I guess we can't seduce this one no matter what.

 

[Nevill]

Armory is a sensible option. C.

 

[Inf0mercial]

C. Ask him about the armory.

I would like to find a gun.

 

[oscar]

C

 

[Endemic]

C.

 

[Cheesecake]

Votes

A: Baltika9
B: (lightbane)
C: ERYKFRAD, (Baltika9), lightbane, Nevill, Inf0mercial, oscar, Endemic
D:
E:

Current character sheet

Name: Lena Cythriel

Gifts:
Daemoniac Tongue
Tough Skin
Perfection

Favor:
Khorne - Hated
Nurgle - Slighted, favored
Tzeentch - Uncaring
Slaanesh - Favored

Known Characters:
The Captain - Hated
Detox, apothecary - Beloved
Hooker, sergeant - Indifferent
Entek, tech-priest - Indifferent, annoyed
Tempestus, chaplain - Indifferent
Sorcerer - Unknown

Items:
Prisoner Uniform

Location:
Mercenary vessel, Scourge of Wealth

"Where's the armory around here? A gun would be good."

Entek visibly bristles. "STATEMENT: Illogical. You are unsanctioned to even enter the sacred armory, let alone desecrate the machine-spirits with your," he cringes, "flesh."

"Would you at least tell me about it? I'll try to comprehend it to the best of my fleshy ability."

He already begins leaving. "STATEMENT: I have been delayed enough. I must suffer penance for the atrocious blasphemy of inefficiency."

You won't be ignored like this! Arms crossed, you storm off, swearing blasphemous oaths and creating a ruckus. Slaves here and there stop work and gawk at the distraction. Their mechanical overseers quickly rectify their mistakes with a few lashes. Suddenly, an idea forms in your head. Screaming at the top of your lungs, you kick and lob and make a mess, knocking servitor and slave alike as you run rampant around the engine-temple. Some delicate work is ruined, eliciting an angry screech from a lesser tech-priest.

Some slaves follow suit, believing this to be some coup and their chance at freedom. Many are flung from the railings to their deaths, and machinery is tampered, stolen or vandalized. Murder-servitors are immediately activated and a fight ensues. Tech-priests prostrate themselves in front of the desecrated machines and beg forgiveness as they repair them.

Schrrrrrrrrrrrrrrk!!!!!!!

"STATEMENT: ++target: Lena Cythriel///Prisoner++ ACTION: kill." Magos Entek rushes at you like a mechanical bull, cursing in binary, with the weapons mounted and grafted onto his body primed and ready to obliterate you.

You hold up two hands and put on your most innocent smile. "Easy, friend. I can fix this. As long as you lemme into your shiny armory."

"QUERY: And how do you intend to stop this rabble?"

You smirk. "Like this." You snap a finger, and immediately a washing aura floods the room, your dominating presence compelling the slaves and some of the more fleshy tech-priests to obey you. "See?"

Knowing that ignoring you would result in the fight starting again, and more time being wasted, Entek relents. You follow him into a heavily guarded sanctum. The air is heavy with perfumes, incense and noxious gas. Gilded servo-skulls buzz and fly like angels, and an ominous screeching plays in the background like a choir. He shows you a collection of weaponry on pedestals, and various gear in-the-works are levitated with archaeotech.

"STATEMENT: Take one and leave. Do not expect this to happen again. I am taking precautions." In a holo-display, you see the majority of slaves either outright killed or incapacitated, and immediately grafted with bionics and their brains mashed with neural-dampeners.

From the gear available, you choose:

A. A laspistol. A humble weapon in comparison to its fellows, yet still exquisite. You are as familiar with the laspistol as you are with your own mother.
B. A boltpistol. A truly awe-inspiring weapon, with mass-reactive bolts that will tear almost anything to shreds. Unfortunately, ammunition is an issue.
C. A chainsword. Both brutal and elegant, utilized both by barbarian and dueler alike, the chainsword is an iconic weapon.
D. An armored bodyglove. A form-fitting suit that both protects and 'displays'.
E. A servo-skull. A companion with an in-built auspex and laspistol. In life and in death, this one's skull still serves.
F. Bionic implants. This might take more 'persuasion' to get Entek to implant them into you, but they'll be well worth it. Hopefully.

 

[Nevill]

Is boltpistol as easy to conceal as a laser one?

I'd probably go with it. We only need a couple of shots for the captain and his closest supporters anyway.

 

[oscar]

Interesting choice. The bodyglove, servo skull and laspistol are all tempting. The boltpistol is rather bulky while the chainsword isn't so hot against heavily armoured foes. We're already fairly tough but the 'charisma boost' here is an added plus and if TSHTF it shouldn't be too hard to scavenge a weapon. I'm assuming these are excellent quality makes however?

 

[ERYFKRAD]

D. An armored bodyglove. A form-fitting suit that both protects and 'displays'.

I mean, come on.