Henry the 57th
   
Rattle. Rattle. A dull thump. The Aquila Lander  Corvus' Claw  shakes in Egaria Theta's cloudless, windswept atomosphere as it streams downwards towards the landing zone. Yet small in the shuttle's custom armorglass windows but growing larger with every passing second is a sprawling desert fortress camp. Over a kilometer in diameter it holds more than three thousand indentured laborers, soldiers, technoarchaeologists, bondsmen, and servitors, all contained within a series of prefabricated blockhouses, warehouses, and shelters enclosed by a two-meter Aegis-style defensive wall, reinforced by razorwire and gun emplacements. What appear from on high to be tiny indents in the earth are in reality a series of pits, trenches, and exploratory digs both inside and outside the walls, where hundreds of men and machines alike toil for House Ravenholm in the punishing sun and scourging winds, seeking ancient alien treasures in the depths of the earth. The fools.

The wasteful uselessness of their approach is starkly apparent even from hundreds of meters in the sky. For, a mere few hundred meters from the fortified camp's furthest edges lies a titanic maze of stone and crystal visible from space. Hundreds of kilometers across and burying itself deeply into the earth, it is easily the equal of an Imperial hive city in internal space and, more importantly, completely abandoned. Anyone could effortlessly walk inside and help themselves to the treasures of deservedly extinct Egarian xenos, worth fortunes beyond counting through the Cold Trade, to factions within the Mechanicus, or even to certain enlightened indviduals within His Divine Majesty's most holy Inquisition. A cyclopean gate the size of an orbital drop cathedral lies open and completely unguarded, yet as they descend closer and closer the Explorers cannot make out a single hunting party or even a solitary individual anywhere near the inviting portal. Even the side of the fortified camp closest to it appears to be far more lightly populated than the rest. In what absolutely cannot be coincidence but was never mentioned in any of the reports sent back, almost all of the occupied dig sites are on the precise opposite side of the campsite from where the xenos maze-city lies. The cowardly imbeciles down below are literally picking at the dirt in the precise area where they are  least  likely to find anything of true value.

Even from this height, the passengers feel as though there are countless fortunes lying  just  out of reach in the depths of that empty alien hive, if only someone here were bold enough to seize them.

The view does not last for very long. Befitting one of the craft in the personal use of Rogue Trader and her inner circle, the  Corvus Claw  cuts easily through the blustery sky and makes for the camp's prepared landing strip in very good time. Ancient cogs squeal and the air hisses with the sound of equalizing pressure as the pilot smoothly lowers the landing ramp, letting in the earthly odor of sun-baked dirt and the first hints of planetary dust already beginning to coat the shuttle's interior. Not being in the mood for further delays, the Explorers unstrap from their comfortable crash couches and are at the ramp's peak before the lander's engines have even fully shut down.

Before them, lined up nicely on the dusty landing strip as if for a parade ground, stand twin rows of iron-masked soldiers clad in the purple-accented dark grey of House Ravenholm, their standardized flak armor and recolored uniforms betraying origins as former men of the Imperial Guard's 557th Hyzian Linebreakers Infantry Regiment, prior to their reassignment in payment of a Munitorum lord's many debts. The ritualized war cult masks of their homeworld stare unblinkingly as three figures, cloaks swept back by the whipping winds, make their way up the center of the the human corridor. At the center of them, greying black hair slicked back close to his scalp and dressed in what are evidently his best attempt at finery on this isolated dust bowl, is Overseer Tertius var Killenvor, the man charged with overall responsibility for the dig and thus its miserably lacking progress. Formerly the bastard son of a noble line in a distant sector, he opted long for a life in service to the Ravenholm Dynasty over a life of banal brutality enforcing order amongst factorum work gangs which, judging from the sweat rolling down his face and the way he tugs at his gilded collar, he may be coming to regret.

To the Overseer's right is Colonel Silas Hawadat, commanding officer of the Linebreakers force stationed here to the guard the technoarchaeology expedition. Contrasting his immediate superior, the Colonel's dress is barely distinguishable from that of his men, only a few extra golden bars atop his dusty flak armor signifying his rank, while his flat-faced iron mask gives nothing away about his thoughts. To the Overseer's left is Magos Sirin Desnel, the ranking tech-priest among the few that could be found to support this expedition. Her once-maroon robes have been sun-bleached to barely pinkish color and the heavy clawlike mechandendrite bending her spine has notable spots of oily discoloration, but if it bothers her she gives no sign. A heavy steel breathing apparatus has replaced the lower half of her face, and her two dark-ringed organic grey eyes flicker rapidly back and forth between the various new arrivals.

 "My lady,"  Overseer Killenvor bows his head respectfully to the Lady-Captain as the Explorers descend to the base of the lander's ramp, briefly licking the corner of his lips.  "My lords,"  he nods at the other three men accompanying the Rogue Trader, eyes lingering just a moment too long on the hulking giant of a tech-priest before he forces them back towards Lady Ravenholm.  "It is my honor to welcome you for your most... unexpected visit to Egaria Theta. How may I be of service?" 
boj0
As she descendeds the landing ramp, Lisette gives a slight gesture and two attendees offer her a parasol and a sip of amsec from an iced glass. She double checks her makeup in an offered mirror then finishes walking to the welcoming party.
With a look of practiced hours of courtly intrigue, the Lady-Captain gives a look of genuine warmth and grace hiding a boiling infuriation at the absolute waste of time and material presented to her.

She gives a look to var Killenvor, "  Overseer, it is my pleasure to do my due diligence, embrace my duty and put a personal touch on this  most important endeavor ; however I must apologize, we appear to have caught you at a poor time, have you not finished starting the expedition? " Without missing a beat, she draws a fan and begins fluffing away the dust from her face.
DrK
 Krieger Huss 

Krieger leans into the sight glass staring down at the mass of trenches and the camp Krieger snorts in disgust and looks at Lady Lisette.  “What a shambles idiots are avoiding the thrice dammed structure.”  Pointing to the crystalline gateway he smiles,  “Guess we’ll be heading in there my Lady?” 

As they land and the ramp opens he rises, dropping the visor of the carapace helm into place. Squinting through the polarised goggles he stomps down the ramp, massive melta cannon held low on its straps scanning for danger. He steps to one side as the Lady comes down the ramp and looks at the ranks of the linebreakers nodding to their master sergeants in a congenial way.
Volthawk
Surveying the scene from the lander, Agares shakes his head at Krieger's comments.   "No. It is not idiocy, not incompetence, that drives their actions. It is fear. Observe where they work."   The biomechanical giant waves a robed arm in the direction of the dig sites.   "Yes. They know what is there. They feel it. Fear it. So they hide in holes as far away as they can. Cowering. Perhaps they are the truly wise here."   Yes. Agares knew their feelings well, having felt them himself in the distant past, fragments of fear before he found himself on the course he is now. He laughs, a strange, grinding mechanical laugh.   "They will have to be convinced to be of use. Through inspiration, perhaps, or...yes, more likely a yet greater fear. Either way. They cannot be relied upon."  

On the surface, Agares' gaze sweeps across the landscape as the group descends the landing ramp, taking in everything about this new land. His focus only moves to the welcoming committee when Killenvor's gaze lingers on Agares, his hooded head turning, clearly watching as he is being watched, before moving to look at the group in front of them as a whole when the overseer looks away. His voice booms out when the Lady-Captain stops talking, not directly addressing anyone.    "Information. We require it. You avoid the main prize, yes, afraid of what you may find, but even then. Your digs, they must have something. Objects. Names. Hints of secrets. The first step in the path to casting aside blessed ignorance to attain cursed understanding. You will tell us everything."  
The Glyphstone
In the centermost seat of the lander, the robed form of the Rogue Trader's chief astropath is huddled, almost hunched and twitching erratically. Jay is silent almost the entire way down, and though he makes no move towards the lander's windows, his clouded grey eyes stare straight unerringly through adamantium armor towards the city below them all the same.

 "And they are right to fear. This world lies dead, and yet it still breathes - the lingering essence of hundred billion dead xenos haunts this accursed world. Their ghosts scream defiance of their rightful fate into the empty dark, and lesser men such as these could only die if they tried to wrest the treasures of the dead from their tombs." 


Upon landing, if anything his tremors grow stronger, shivering in the face of an icy wind no one else can feel. He says nothing as the tech-priest and the Lady-Captain begin to interrogate her minions, blind eyes panning slowly back and forth across the desolate landscape.
Henry the 57th
 
 Originally Posted by boj0 
 She gives a look to var Killenvor, "  Overseer, it is my pleasure to do my due diligence, embrace my duty and put a personal touch on this  most important endeavor ; however I must apologize, we appear to have caught you at a poor time, have you not finished starting the expedition? " Without missing a beat, she draws a fan and begins fluffing away the dust from her face. 
 

The Overseer's face pales a little and he swallows, but quickly rallies.  "My lady,"  he begins, licking the corner of his lips once more.  "I of course realize that our progress here on Egaria Theta may not have been quite what you expected, but I assure that there have been extenuating circumstances."  He glances at the former guardsmen surrounding the landing parties, and then further away to those indentured workers busy unloading newly-arrived supply shuttles further down the landing strip.  "Perhaps out here in the open might not be the place to discuss such... sensitive matters?"  He grins weakly, then bows a little at the waist, gesturing with both hands towards one of the many unremarkable prefab blockhouses used for some many things throughout the campsite.  "If my lady will consent, I would be very pleased... and highly honored to show her and any of her worthy companions to my humble office, where we might discuss matters in more confidence?"  He does his absolute best to make the smile seem genuine, and fails.


 
 Originally Posted by DrK 
 As they land and the ramp opens he rises, dropping the visor of the carapace helm into place. Squinting through the polarised goggles he stomps down the ramp, massive melta cannon held low on its straps scanning for danger. He steps to one side as the Lady comes down the ramp and looks at the ranks of the linebreakers nodding to their master sergeants in a congenial way. 
 

For their parts, the soldiers' iron masks make it difficult for Huss to determine exactly where they're looking or what they're feeling about anything, though one of the men standing in the neat ranks shifts a few degrees to the left and returns the nod. Colonel Hawadat's head whips around almost preternaturally fast, and the soldier with the temerity to loosen his attention stance snaps almost feverishly back into ramrod straight parade ground attention. The commanding officer takes a moment to stare down the offending man without shifting his own stance at all, and the mercenary suspects that he's committing that particular soldier to memory.


 
 Originally Posted by Volthawk 
 On the surface, Agares' gaze sweeps across the landscape as the group descends the landing ramp, taking in everything about this new land. His focus only moves to the welcoming committee when Killenvor's gaze lingers on Agares, his hooded head turning, clearly watching as he is being watched, before moving to look at the group in front of them as a whole when the overseer looks away. His voice booms out when the Lady-Captain stops talking, not directly addressing anyone.    "Information. We require it. You avoid the main prize, yes, afraid of what you may find, but even then. Your digs, they must have something. Objects. Names. Hints of secrets. The first step in the path to casting aside blessed ignorance to attain cursed understanding. You will tell us everything."   
 

With Overseer Killenvor occupied attempting to appease the Lady-Captain, it is Magos Desnel that steps in to answer the cybernetic giant's request. Her grey eyes stare unflinchingly up at Agares, giving no sign that she is at all perturbed to see such an obvious mutant bearing the robes and sacred augmentics of the priesthood of Mars.

 "Affirmative,"  the heavily-filtered voice emerging from her respirator apparatus is very deep, only just discernable as a woman's at all.  "Numerous artifacts identified as bearing discernable levels of psychic charge, capable of breaking apart into substrates with total mass exceeding that of the original whole. Viscous liquid appearing to originate from crystalline masses has proven toxic to human life, though surviving local flora appear less susceptible. Most importantly, based on geode-pottery fragments found at the dig sites and surviving servo-skull pict-captures from within the xenos maze, Magos Biologis have begun codex of the Egarian language but it currently remains substandard and incomplete."  the Magos pauses briefly.  "Current collection of notable artifacts awaiting off-planet transport is located at Modular Prefabricated Shelter 337-618B, to be perused at my lords' discretion. Addendum: classification of many xenos artifacts is speculative in nature due to limitations placed on field testing,"  she glares briefly at the Overseer.  "But the Omnissiah provides." 

 
 Originally Posted by The Glyphstone 
 Upon landing, if anything his tremors grow stronger, shivering in the face of an icy wind no one else can feel. He says nothing as the tech-priest and the Lady-Captain begin to interrogate her minions, blind eyes panning slowly back and forth across the desolate landscape. 
 

The already unpleasant desert winds seem to, if anything, pick up when the the psyker sets foot on the ground. The blasts of warm air bring no relief from the sun's dry heat, only waves of silt, coarse, rough, and irritating, along with the smells of baked earth, sweat, and oil. On one level there is very little to see from here. Merely a highly standardized flat landing strip, surrounded by rows of identical prefabricated structures laid out in calculated patterns of interspersed grids, filled with dozens of menials in their dark grey fatigues struggling alongside the occasional heavy servitor to unload the latest supply shuttles bearing vital water, food, and mechanical parts. Iron-masked soldiers wander around blockhouses and through the laborers in their endless patrols, always in groups of at least two.

On another is the dull pulse of mundane life as found on a million different worlds throughout the Imperium, trifling and fleeting creatures of routine and superstition, petty desires and pettier feuds. Here, though, without any real effort at all Jay can all but taste the twin tangy undercurrents of weariness and fear running throughout the vast campsite, and the dull throbbing pulses of the hungry xenos megastructure looming within and above it all.
boj0
The Lady gives an all-knowing smile to the Overseer as she agrees to his request, her gene-edited eyes pierce into him, a rich purple that could understandably mistake her for a Cadian, she knows he will stumble over excuses and mix-up stories; honestly watching him squirm in what he perceives to be his safe haven would be worth it on its own, regardless of the benefit of getting out of the Emperor-damned heat. " I thank you Overseer for that offering of hospitality, I could wilt away under this sun; a lady of my pedigree is simply not meant to withstand these punishing elements that you have all so...adequately endured. Please, lead us to your office, I wish to be informed of our progress in the very heart of it! " Her tone, while sweet, to those who know her can practically feel the razor hidden under the honey and silk. She will get answers out of this man, and find out why enough men to choke a Hive Tyrant would be terrified of an empty city.
DrK
 Krieger Huss 

Krieger looks at the Lady and leans in towards her.  “My Lady, I will take a tour of the walls. Get a lay of the land and see why the digs seem to have gone the wrong way“”.  That said he gestures at  4 of the infantry including the one that had nodded and summarily snaps at the Colonel.  “You 4, fall in with me. You will give me a tour of the camp and fortifications.” 

He nods at the Rogue Trader and gestures at the wall closest to the cathedral sized cave entrance.  “We will start over there.” 
Volthawk
Agares listens to Dresnel, putting things together in his mind.   "Within the maze? You have at least done that, yes, good, but none have been allowed in, yes? Bound by the fears of those with weaker wills...a typical fate."   Agares thinks for a moment, looking in Jay's direction for a moment before his gaze sweeps back to the magos.   "Psychically charged artefacts. We can do something about that...yes. The limitations placed here are meaningless. We are here now. None shall impede the quest for knowledge, not now, as we are acting under the authority of the raven. 218!"   He again looks at Jay, trying to get his attention.   "Come! We have secrets to uncover, dark powers to stare in the face of! Your talents will help."   That said, he turns to face the Lord-Captain and the Overseer, his voice again booming out so they can hear.   "I am leaving to see what they have. Overseer, we are ignoring your wishes now. Fears about the xenos will not impede us. Your wisdom is not needed. Prepare yourself."   With that, he turns away and gestures for Magos Dresnel to lead the way to the collection.
Henry the 57th
 
 Originally Posted by boj0 
 The Lady gives an all-knowing smile to the Overseer as she agrees to his request, her gene-edited eyes pierce into him, a rich purple that could understandably mistake her for a Cadian, she knows he will stumble over excuses and mix-up stories; honestly watching him squirm in what he perceives to be his safe haven would be worth it on its own, regardless of the benefit of getting out of the Emperor-damned heat. " I thank you Overseer for that offering of hospitality, I could wilt away under this sun; a lady of my pedigree is simply not meant to withstand these punishing elements that you have all so...adequately endured. Please, lead us to your office, I wish to be informed of our progress in the very heart of it! " Her tone, while sweet, to those who know her can practically feel the razor hidden under the honey and silk. She will get answers out of this man, and find out why enough men to choke a Hive Tyrant would be terrified of an empty city. 
 

 "Of course, my lady,"  the greying Overseer's face relaxes just a fraction.  "If you and any of your companions who care to will kindly follow me." 

The journey to the Overseer's office is a remarkable short one. The grey prefabricated blockhouse housing the camp's center of authority is quite literally within spitting distance of the landing strip's edge, distinguished from the rest only by its dull alphanumeric designation and the twin grey and purple banners bearing the sigil of House Ravenholm hanging on either side of its main entrance. The moment the small group steps through its sliding steel double doors the temperature drops noticeably, from dusty and sweltering hot to that of a cool autumn evening underlaid with the pervasive scents of iron and machine oil. Killenvor and his small entourage guide the Lady-Captain and her crew to a room at blockhouse's rear, large enough to be used for conferences but currently laid out as a single massive office. The dull grey metallic floors are covered with an enormous and costly gold and scarlet rug, the walls by a mix of paintings, shelves crammed with books and scrolls, and several plinths topped with exotic (and almost pornographic in one case) sculpture. A bulky military-style holo-table occupies the rearward right corner of the room, but the oversized, luxuriously appointed, solid wooden desk parked straight in the center of the room is indisputably its most dominant feature. The carved wooden lion's heads, golden filigree, and deep red velvet cushioning of the chair behind it almost make the Overseer's seat resemble the throne, but the half-dozen seats spread out in front of the desk are only just less well-appointed. Their host gestures for the Rogue Trader and company to take a seat, only lowering himself into his chair behind the desk when they have done so first.

 "My lady, I completely understand your frustrations,"  Killenvor begins after taking a moment to straighten out his windswept finery and take a deep breath.  "Believe me, I do. You appointed me to oversee this expedition with clear instructions that we should plumb the interior of this xenos hive, this 'Egarian Maze-City', and from the first day I arrived on planet my efforts were all bent to exactly that end. Why, virtually the moment after the first living quarters had been set up, there were men marching right through the damned thing's gate!"  He clenches one fist.  "And before the month was out parties of men and machines hundreds strong were entering that place every single day. Yes, we had to pull back by night, when the interior grows almost entirely pitch black - something about the stone absorbing sunlight and projecting it inside during the day, I really don't understand how that works - every morning at sunrise my overseers had menials by the score lined up to go inside, and gave any who were too slow about it a taste of the lash, I assure you! But..."  here his confident look begins to waver.  "We didn't find any grand treasures in our delving. Some minor artifacts - all of which we sent to you, of course - but we were never able to discover anything of great value in those spaces we could reach during the course of the day. And when we returned the next morn for further delving, there were... problems. Problems of a rather unexpected sort."  He breathes a deep sigh.

 "The structure was different, my lady,"  the man explains.  " Every  day. Every single damned day. Each and every time. Look!"  he bends over and extracts jumbled mess of paper sheets and parchment from a draw, spreading them across his desk with wild abandon. Even a cursory look shows a series of maps of wildly varying crudeness or sophistication featuring a similarly-proportioned entrance immediately devolving into a wildly contradictory mess of tunnels, hallways both curved and sharply angular, atriums, honeycomb-like stacks of apparent living quarters, stairways, slopes, dead-end rooms of no apparent purpose, and grand, cyclopean mausoleum chambers vast enough to contain the entire dig site camp within themselves.  "I had the interior mapped over a hundred times during the delving. Menials, guardsmen, servo-skulls, tech-priests, I sent all of them to map what they saw, and with every passing day every one came back with something different. How was I to wring treasure out of that? We couldn't very well stay inside overnight, the men... the men wouldn't tolerate it." 
 "But that wasn't the worst of it,"  he continues.  "Men went into that maze and came back with... stories. Laborers went missing in there, and soon people were telling wild tales of entrances vanishing while backs were turned, with men still inside. Rumors spread of distant, echoing screams seeming to come from nowhere, the sudden smell of blood in the air, whipping winds and dust clouds emerging from nowhere in small stone rooms. The most persistent and damaging rumors spoke of shadowy giants, half again as tall as man with empty green eyes that gleamed in the darkness. First it was just in the maze, but before much time had past men were claiming to have spotted them just beyond our perimeter walls, stalking in the desert on these damnably moonless night. They attribute all sorts of supernatural powers to them, from moving through walls to killing a man with a single glance."  he adjusts his collar.  "Preposterous, of course, none of the honored magi's auspexes detected any life signs beyond human ones in vicinity of all disappearances that they were present for, or at any other time they spent in the maze. No tracks of these supposed desert apparitions have ever been located."  It's unclear if he's neglecting to mention churning of the sands caused by the constant strong winds or just hasn't thought of that.  "And of course we have never located a single body. Clearly some menials simply got lost in the depths, or even took the opportunity to disappear from their rightful indenture, but try explaining that to the masses." 

Killenvor breathes in and out, wiping away a faint bead of sweat with one gloved hand.  "But it got worse from there. There were handful of incidents within the camp, regular mechanical failure of course, but heightened by feeble minds infected by paranoia into something much worse. There was talking of vox sets spontaneously activating, broadcasting screams or moans or unaccountable babble in in hideous alien languages. Magos Desnel assured me that such things were of course impossible while the holy servants of the Omnissiah tended to them, but the masses believed it nonetheless. Machines broke that ought not to have with sand clogging their parts, and this somehow became evidence to the labor force that we were being haunted. Men awoke screaming from strange nightmares, doubtless brought on by flourishing paranoia, and through rumors and exaggeration and the half-remembered qualities of all dreams came to conclude that actually dozens of people were having almost the same one! And then... desertions."  he swallows once, then nods.  "Yes desertions. People say that they were disappearances when they think I'm not listening, even abductions, but the absurdity of that is plain on its face. There were no break-ins, the gates remained sealed and the razor wire untouched. No tracks or tunnels have ever been discovered, with even the most thorough of searches. The missing men must simply have deserted, driven mad by fear and fleeing into the desert. It's not as though we had spare mounts or vehicles to hunt them down."  The greying bronze-skinned man nods again, ignoring the bead of sweat running down the back of his neck.

 "But I did everything I could!"  he suddenly sounds almost pleading.  "Believe me, my lady, I truly did! I doubled patrols, I instituted a curfew, I lashed men who spread rumors, nothing helped."  He puts his face in his hands.  "We couldn't stop it. The men... my lady, you must understand, then men here are lowborn peasants, deeply superstitious and uneducated. Every wild sighting in the dark became abominable xenos giant, every flicker of transmition interference became the wailing of the damned, every runaway laborer became a screaming soul plucked up by ghosts and daemons and alien monsters in the dead of night. Weeks went by, and none of them without the beginnings of riot. It spread, and the Colonel..."  here he bangs his fist on the desk,  "The Colonel refused to keep his men in line. They talked to the menials, they talked to one another, and soon enough half of them were ready to shoot me if I didn't back down!"  The Overseer wrings his hands.  "What else could I do but relent? The camp was verging on full-scale rebellion, my lady! The expeditions into the maze were useless. The only way I could safeguard any of your investment was to appease the crowd."  He looks back up again.  "I've worked the disloyal dogs as hard I can sense then, believe me! Every day they toil in the earth from sunup to sundown, bringing every scrap of anything unnatural to your tech-priests for identification. But there are only scraps for them to find, and virtually none are left who will brave the xeno structure." 

The man takes a moment, burying his face in his hands once more and breathing deeply, clearly doing his best to calm himself down. When his gloved hands retreat a moment later his face is noticeably flushed, and a few more drops of sweat are trickling down his forehead.

 "My lady, I truly am sorry, but..."  Killenvor swallows.  "It is my recommendation that the expedition to Egaria Theta be abandoned in its totality as utterly unprofitable, and that accursed and worthless maze-city be thoroughly bombarded from orbit. For wasting your valuable time and wealth, of course." 

 
 Originally Posted by DrK 
  Krieger Huss 

Krieger looks at the Lady and leans in towards her.  “My Lady, I will take a tour of the walls. Get a lay of the land and see why the digs seem to have gone the wrong way“”.  That said he gestures at  4 of the infantry including the one that had nodded and summarily snaps at the Colonel.  “You 4, fall in with me. You will give me a tour of the camp and fortifications.” 

He nods at the Rogue Trader and gestures at the wall closest to the cathedral sized cave entrance.  “We will start over there.”  
 

 "As you say,"  Colonel Hawadat takes the news with a terse nod, raising one hand briefly. Immediately, all four of the soldiers Krieger pointed out reach behind them bringing their shouldered lasguns about and into ready position with the impeccably drilled precision of those who have been stuck without any real action for months. He makes a forward gesture with two fingers, and he, the quartet, Krieger, and anyone else who cares to join their little tour are lead veering off to the left of the Overseer's group.

The journey towards the wall is a bit of a walk, with the landing strip having been conspicuously placed in the center of the camp, as far away from the edges as physically manageable. Between the glaring sun and constant drafts of hot air blowing gritty, irritating, brown dust all over his face on the way there Krieger gains a greater understanding of why the Linebreakers have continued their traditions of iron masks. The lowly menials the group passes have had to make due with cloth face wraps around their nose and mouth and crude goggles when they can get them. Tans are universal on those bits of skin not covered up, which contrasts heavily with loose-fitting clothes that are either white or so sun-bleached that they might as well be. Colored clothing seems to be a luxury of those elites who can stay inside most of the day or soldiers who get the first pick of new shipments.

Still, unpleasant environment aside, the small squad does reach the perimeter wall with a few minutes of weaving their way through the gridlike maze of grey prefab buildings. Boots clang on dusty metal as they make a short climb up. While the Egarian maze could hardly ever be concealed, from atop the walls it somehow appears larger and closer than it did from ground level. As to the wall itself, Krieger recognizes it as an enlarged version of the venerable Aegis Defense Line used by the Imperial Guard the galaxy over, with coils of razorwire strung out in between the metallic slabs' intermittent protrusions, themselves interspersed with firing slits. Anchoring the line are a number of small bastion towers, only a few steps higher than the surrounding ramparts but each equipped with a broad tripod holding a two-man autocannon only technically qualifying as man-portable.

 "Overseer Killenvor wanted the heavy guns rearranged,"  the Colonel says as the small group passes one such autocannon, currently the midst of receiving careful ritual propitiation in the form of a thorough application of sacred unguents and blessings against dust and overheating by a maroon-robed tech adept.  "Said we should put more of them towards the xeno hive's entrance, since that was where the danger was most likely to come from. I told him that was idiotic, because at this distance any force emerging from there,"  he indicates the cavernous open gateway,  "could flank around the campsite hundreds of meters before entering effective range. So we've kept them as evenly spread as possible. One autocannon every fifty meters or so as best we can, with as much overlap in field of fire as possible. The rocky terrain doesn't always make that possible, though,"  he remarks.

 "The contingent on Egaria Theta is only about two hundred fifty men strong,"  Hawadat continues as they go on.  "During the day, we've got twenty or so men watching over the menials at the dig site, maybe twenty-five patrolling within the camp, and around fifty stationed on the walls, mostly on the autocannons. During the night, when curfew hits, we try to keep seventy-five men on the patrolling the wall in shifts, and another fifty on alert throughout the camp. We've only got four Chimeras for armor, so we tend to keep two stationed near the gates and two positioned towards the center of the camp, for rapid reaction in case of any incidents,  he glances at Krieger.  "So far, we've not had to use them for anything more than shuttling people around, thank the Emperor. 

When the little group has a walked a ways along the perimeter wall that Krieger notices the Colonel begin to intermittently, subtly look around. It's only when they've reached an isolated spot between bastion towers, beyond earshot of the ordinary troopers and further isolated by winds escalating into a near dust storm, that the officer stops the group in its tracks with a single gesture.

 "You want to know why the digs are all on the opposite side of the xeno structure?"  he sighs, and for the first time seems less than entirely in control.  "The Overseer will tell you stories about whispers in the dark, strange transmitions, men vanishing into the maze, tales of ghosts and monsters, recurring nightmare-visions across the camp, the threat of riots from terrified serfs, even green-eyed shadow giants stalking the night. But the truth is much simpler than that."  His voice grows bother quieter and heavier, as if from shame.  "During the time when we were exploring the maze, there were... disappearances within the camp itself. At first it was menials, maybe one or two wandering outside by starlight. Then came the curfews, then the increasing nightly patrols. All that happened was that soldiers started to go missing too."  He shakes his head.  "No one ever saw anything. No one ever found anything. No tracks, no screams, no weapons fire, no signs of a struggle. We checked the gates, their locks were undamaged. We checked the walls, the wire was uncut and nothing was ever caught in it." 

Around him, Krieger can sense the other soldiers' discipline beginning to wear away. Some are looking around warily, others looking down at their feet, one fidgeting with his lasgun. The wind in his ears also seems to be picking up, sounding almost as if it itself contains the ghost of a howl.

 "It kept going,"  Hawadat continues after taking a deep breath.  "Killenvor kept ordering us not to talk about it, to whip men and menials for spreading rumors, trying everything he could to keep it quiet and find the source, but nothing tangible could ever be located for us to shoot. It just kept going and going and going until... Serena."  He looks up from where he'd been staring at his boots.  "She was just a menial laborer, at least at first, but then she became... close to the Overseer. Got out of the sun, got the best kinds of rations, suddenly was doing his dictations when she was barely literate, you get the idea. Well, one night Killenvor was out of his office doing something or other with the cogboys. He left her in quarters to wait for him and when he returned..."  he gives a slight shudder.  "Gone. She vanished, right out from the middle of what was supposed to be the most secure building in the whole damned campsite. Right where the Overseer himself sleeps every night. None of the four guards outside the building reported noticing a thing." 
 "After that,"  the Colonel brings himself to say after a moment's pause.  "We stopped going inside. Killenvor sent every menial, every soldier to the external dig sites the next day, and not a man crossed the maze's threshold. The disappearances stopped, that very same night. Whatever it was doesn't seem to care if we poke around in the dirt, just if we poke our nose inside. So if the Lady-Captain wants to know why we haven't sent more expeditions inside,"  he shrugs a little sardonically,  "Now she does." 

 
 Originally Posted by Volthawk 
 Agares listens to Dresnel, putting things together in his mind.   "Within the maze? You have at least done that, yes, good, but none have been allowed in, yes? Bound by the fears of those with weaker wills...a typical fate."   Agares thinks for a moment, looking in Jay's direction for a moment before his gaze sweeps back to the magos.   "Psychically charged artefacts. We can do something about that...yes. The limitations placed here are meaningless. We are here now. None shall impede the quest for knowledge, not now, as we are acting under the authority of the raven. 218!"   He again looks at Jay, trying to get his attention.   "Come! We have secrets to uncover, dark powers to stare in the face of! Your talents will help."   That said, he turns to face the Lord-Captain and the Overseer, his voice again booming out so they can hear.   "I am leaving to see what they have. Overseer, we are ignoring your wishes now. Fears about the xenos will not impede us. Your wisdom is not needed. Prepare yourself."   With that, he turns away and gestures for Magos Dresnel to lead the way to the collection. 
 

 "Affirmative,"  Magos Desnel nods at Agares,  "Follow and observe." 

Without further preamble, the camp's head techpriest leads Agares along with anyone who chooses to follow them off to the right of the landing strip, moving at a smooth and even pace. The journey takes less than a minute, and quite fittingly the prefabricated building containing the recovered treasures is completely identical to all of those surrounding it, with the exceptions of the alphanumeric designation on its side and the half dozen grey and purple armored soldiers doing their best to stand the building's meager shade. The Magos doesn't bother to present any sort of identification, they simply move aside as she leads her guests onwards.

The doors open at her touch to reveal that in this blockhouse are a mere three other techpriests in maroon robes, several noticeably sun bleached but none quite so severely as their leader's. An icon of Omnissiah has been welded onto the the back walls and four bronze censers hang from the ceiling, constantly dispensing a purplish incense mist, giving the building the pungent scents of spice and coolant. None of the acolytes here glance up from their small, blocked-in workstations as the doors slide shut behind their mistress and her strange giant guest, as is only appropriate.

 "Observe and obtain knowledge,"  Desnel says, gesturing with one cybernetic arm towards a set of displays laid out on a multitude of tables in the center of the blockhouse. Considering the sheer amount of men and material located here and the proximity of a undoubtedly massive source of untapped xenos artifacts, Agares deems the number of finds on hand to be pitifully small. Still he reflects as the Magos leads him through them, it is not quite nothing.

In the center of the lot is a series of displays succinctly labeled "weapons and adjacent". These are overwhelmingly yellow, white, or blackish curved crystalline blades or the fragments thereof, each smooth to the touch at the handle and simultaneously jagged and razor-sharp just about everywhere else. Just scraping these along the skin would obviously embed a considerable number of vicious, oily shards into the flesh as though passing through a thorn bush. These seem like they should wear themselves to nothing over the course of just a few uses, but recording experimental data show that mass does not decrease on the blades even after seemingly significant portions of them have become embedded in targets. There are a smaller number of shards that seem appropriate for ranged weapons, indicated to be the shavings of similarly seeming-infinite crystal lumps from inside the maze.

A second set of tables plays host to a variety of tubes, beakers, flasks, engines for heating and cooling, and cell cultures, all wrapped around a bare handful of oily-looking, largely yellowish crystals, all under the label "chemical abnormalities". Carefully balanced collection systems catch the tiniest drops of vicious fluid that drips achingly slowly from the alien gems, as if they were driblets of sludge from an underhive pipe. A number of what seem to be human cell cultures, alongside three palm-sized reddish reptilians and a lone sand-colored arthropod have rather obviously been used to test the effects of the concoctions on organic life. In the case of the human flesh, the recorded results are scarcely needed - the oily black ruins are quite enough.

A final spread, simply labeled "curios" is perhaps the least dramatic. For the most part it is simply an odd mishmash of what appears to be bits and pieces of shattered pottery, though on closer inspection is revealed to be immaculate stonework shaped from a white and yellow marble-like rock, with a greater number of those same angular, mazelike glyphs carved deep into their sides. There is a fragment of what might once have been an oddly geometric statue of a black stone resembling obsidian, carved into by sickly yellow glyphs. The only other item of note on this table is an unusually colorful greenish-blue (or perhaps blueish-green?) spherical object, carved up into four not quite even segments by writhing, almost serpentine glyphs that seem completely at odds with the rest of the Egarian language fragments on display. The label beside it simply reads "function unknown".

 "Our greatest accomplishment,"  Desnel concludes the brief tour by gesturing to a massive iron-bound tome laid out on a small altar with her large mechadendrite, reverence obvious in even her heavy, mechanical voice.  "A codex detailing partial transliteration of Egarian runic language into Low Gothic equivalents. The work of my finest xenobiologists, laboring with pict-captures and scraps of masonry. While yet incomplete, with it we are beginning to identify methods for truly understanding the xenos, this maze they left behind, and what might lie deep within. And perhaps,"  here a note of excitement creeps into her synthesized monotone,  "learn how they controlled it." 
boj0
Lisette Ravenholm listens intently to the Overseer, while she was sure she was only going to hear trite excuses and platitudes promising results (which, to be fair she was), she was not expecting the juicy details that the maze-city was possibly some pseudo-sentient biosphere that altered itself constantly as a potential defense mechanism against the investigation attempts of the weak-willed. Superstition or not, this was most definitely a unique situation, that required the utmost care and practicality.

Except, Captain Lisette Athena Brunhilde Yor Ravenholm was not one for meek practicality or one to shy away from such an opportunity; in fact, the only thing she could do to stop the gears of her mind from spinning at ludicrous speeds imagining the fame and adventure such a city would offer, was to formulate how she would berate this man for attempting to deny her the chance.

" My dear Overseer, while I appreciate the concern for the vast,  vast  wealth of House Ravenholm; I cannot help but have a pang of disappointment that you feel such a circumstance warrants that drastic a response; you say that the city itself alters and changes every time you send an expedition out? That it seems to mutate and morph in response to our probing? My good man, that only  solidifies  our reasoning to be here. Why else would a city protect itself in such a grandiose manner if not to slow our claim at grandiose treasure? No, no, no. This is but the end of the first, sad, blasé chapter of our expedition on Egaria Theta. We must rally the men, so to speak; we much establish a concrete pattern for what causes such reactions from the walls of the city, discover if there is a pattern we can exploit, find  something  to know exactly, how, when, and most importantly,  why  the amorphous district acts as it does. If we discover the rules of this game, then we can win the prize. Oh hohohoho, var Killenvor, we do not have reason to flee; we have reason to try harder. I am simply beside myself with intrigue at the puzzle you present ."

The Lady-Captain briskly stands from her chair, and snaps her fan shut, rhythmically tapping it in her palm as she begins pacing the room, looking over the various sculptures and attempts at culture the Overseer has adorned his meeting room with. She could feel her excitement, imagination, and wanderlust simmer just under her skin; she  must  see this city for herself, if only to prove to the simple-minded cretins in her employ that they had nothing to fear; and if they knew that she was leading the charge, that would only serve to solidify their loyalty to her and allow the Overseer to truly experience the crushing weight of his failure. A win-win.

" I shall need a day or two to prepare myself and those I trust on such a...unique adventure, then I shall speak to the laborers and men-at-arms, they shall know that the House they serve is more than willing to walk into the abyss by their side, they are sure to feel emboldened by that; a small, well-equipped team of experts shall establish a safe path into the maze-city and back to the camp. After that, we will have proof that the men do not throw away their lives needlessly when they explore. Once they get over their boorish superstitions, an  actual  expedition into the city shall commence and we shall crash upon that city as a wave, flowing into every nook and cranny; no secret shall escape the reach and bravery of dedicated Imperial ingenuity, we shall take the city for all its worth and bring it back out into the light of the Emperor and shall bask in the glorious light of our success as our station  demands  ."

Despite her barely-approaching-average build, Captain Ravenholm seems to fill the room and loom over var Killenvor, she gazes into the man's soul and finds it wanting; she has made herself known and will harbor no disobedience; they  will  succeed at this endeavor, even if it kills them him. Her hand resting on the hilt of her power sword, she no longer has the posture of a simple noblewoman, but has let her adventurous spirit take over and poses as a warrior-queen, her face stoic, with just the hint of a sneer of superiority.

" You've managed to find me in a fanciful mood, Overseer, for I shall not punish you for your flacid attempts at glory and concern for your betters, no, I shall take this matter into my own hands and drag these poor souls to  victory . Eat, dink, and be merry these next few days, for then I shall take you under my wing and put you through the crucible; and pray to the Emperor that you do not falter Tertius; for I  will  make sure that you bring this situation to a satisfactory conclusion. Now, fetch me a bottle of what you believe to be quality amsec; I am flush with purpose and wish to celebrate this outpost taking its first steps on the path to legend. "
DrK
 Krieger Huss 

Walking with the Colonel and the men Krieger nods and listens carefully.  "Inside the city what are conditions like? Is it large enough for tracked vehicles or are the tunnels more cramped? We will need to see the most recent maps or at least the range of maps that have become available. Our Magos or Astropath may be able to make more sense of the strange goings on."  Kriger taps the bolt pistol,  "I only deal with more practical things." 

He pauses at the gun turret crouching down beside the autocannon and checking the mechanism and siting. With a curt nod he grins  "Its a good one, I have manned them before. Very well Colonel, I shall report to the Lady Captain that you've been responding to the Overseer's orders. But, I suspect the Lady Captain will be venturing into the City. We will need 2 of the chimera's made ready, clean and presentable and a squad of your toughest and best who have been inside. Any that have knowledge of the pathways they have seen before." 

Pulling out a hip flask of shipboard moonshine he takes a sip then offers the Colonel and the men a sip each.  "Dusty, makes the mouth dry. I've seen nicer deathworlds" .

---

Following the tour he heads back towards the Overseer's security centre looking for the Lady Captain. Once he finds the lady Captain he offers he a low bow,  "Lady Ravenholm"  I have spoken with the Colonel and can make a full report later, but the troops are not the issue here. They can prepare transport and an escort if you wish us to visit the tunnels of the city.
The Glyphstone
Jay nods obediently as the Magos-Explorator's command breaks through the oppressive malus laid down upon him by the xenos city's aura, and he trails behind the two tech-priests to the tent while absent-mindedly stroking his cogwheel necklace. Inside, he is silent while the two priests exchange information, wondering their choice to vocally express data through the comparatively less-efficient Low Gothic instead of Binary is a deliberate effort to include him. When prompted by Agares, though, he steps up to the table and leans against his staff, while his blind eyes bore into the assortment of relics and trinkets in search of their unseen secrets.

 
 Spoiler: Psyniscience Test 

 (1d100)[ 13 ]  vs 71.
 
boj0
 
 Originally Posted by DrK 
  Krieger Huss 
Following the tour he heads back towards the Overseer's security centre looking for the Lady Captain. Once he finds the lady Captain he offers he a low bow,  "Lady Ravenholm"  I have spoken with the Colonel and can make a full report later, but the troops are not the issue here. They can prepare transport and an escort if you wish us to visit the tunnels of the city. 
 

Without breaking eye contact with the Overseer, Captain Ravenholm smiles, " Thank you for the prompt update Master Huss, I believe that we shall need no more than a few days to go over the available reports and research, prepare ourselves, and make a dedicated attempt at establishing a forward outpost within the maze-city. If this city is truly as opposed to our attempts as the good Overseer here claims, we will need to be at our most prepared. "
Volthawk
Agares looks over the assorted items with interest, nodding with approval as he sees Jay begin his examination. 218 understood well. This was good, for while Agares saw much that the average person did not, in the shadows and in his dreams, rattling in his mind, the psyker in turn saw even more, things he'd never be able to sense, let alone understand.

The weaponry gets a cursory inspection - his main concern there is whether or not the shards can be extracted once placed in someone through one of these weapons, given that if their journey into the maze meant someone got hurt, it would fall onto him and his mechadendrites to fix the situation, one way or another. The chemicals are also mildly interesting, Agares mentally comparing the effects to those that he'd seen before in the hopes of finding understanding, but neither of those are what he's really interested in. Much as Desnel seemed to expect, though, Agares' main focus is on the codex, the more dextrous and capable of manipulation of his mechadendrites snaking out to grab it and open it, keeping it open for him to reference the other glyphs as he goes along the room. He doesn't speak through this process, the closest thing being a kind of incoherent binaric mumbling, old memories and new whispers colliding in his addled mind, the new lore in his hands in front of them potentially providing a key, which he could unlock...clarity, perhaps? Deeper madness? What they're screaming? Or just some mundane information on the nature of the maze. He wasn't quite sure yet.

 
 Spoiler 

Going to try to activate Whispers Unheard for a FL (Xenos) check to figure out something of use from the codex and writing we've got, and to see if he knows anything about where the mystery item might be from, given that it doesn't appear Egarian.
Whispers Unheard activation &lt;TN 55&gt;:  (1d100)[ 28 ] 
 Forbidden Lore (Xenos)  &lt;TN 75, 102 if WU is active&gt;:  (1d100)[ 75 ] 
If this test benefited from Whispers Unheard and succeeded, Insanity:  (1d5-2)[ 0 ] 

Whispers Unheard is weird, as it benefits Int-based tests for just a round, but it's not like lore tests have an action involved. I'm figuring that given the actions involved IC (ie reading and examining), it only benefits the one FL test here at least, and so the following test doesn't benefit (and I won't bother with a second activation).
Scholastic Lore (Chymistry) for any relevant insights on the cystal acid &lt;TN 55&gt;:  (1d100)[ 61 ] 
 
Henry the 57th
 
 Originally Posted by boj0 
 " I shall need a day or two to prepare myself and those I trust on such a...unique adventure, then I shall speak to the laborers and men-at-arms, they shall know that the House they serve is more than willing to walk into the abyss by their side, they are sure to feel emboldened by that; a small, well-equipped team of experts shall establish a safe path into the maze-city and back to the camp. After that, we will have proof that the men do not throw away their lives needlessly when they explore. Once they get over their boorish superstitions, an  actual  expedition into the city shall commence and we shall crash upon that city as a wave, flowing into every nook and cranny; no secret shall escape the reach and bravery of dedicated Imperial ingenuity, we shall take the city for all its worth and bring it back out into the light of the Emperor and shall bask in the glorious light of our success as our station  demands  ." 
 

At that, the Overseer looks like he wants to say something, his lined face tensing up for just a moment, but then he bites his tongue and lets it go. Whatever it was, it was clearly less important to him than staying in the Rogue Trader's good graces.


 " You've managed to find me in a fanciful mood, Overseer, for I shall not punish you for your flacid attempts at glory and concern for your betters, no, I shall take this matter into my own hands and drag these poor souls to  victory . Eat, dink, and be merry these next few days, for then I shall take you under my wing and put you through the crucible; and pray to the Emperor that you do not falter Tertius; for I  will  make sure that you bring this situation to a satisfactory conclusion. Now, fetch me a bottle of what you believe to be quality amsec; I am flush with purpose and wish to celebrate this outpost taking its first steps on the path to legend. " 

 "I hope that your crucible will be of the mental sort, my lady,"  Killenvor says, tugging just a little at his collar.  "I am little old and worn to be trapsing around on personal adventures. I'm afraid I haven't personally fired a weapon in anger in over twenty-three years. While I remain utterly at your service, of course,"  here he bows his head, by total coincidence prominently displaying his visibly greying hair in the process.  "I fear I would only slow you down within the maze-city itself, wasting God Emperor only knows how much of your precious time in the process." 
 "Amasec,"  he nods quickly, almost eagerly getting to his own feet.  "Yes, yes of course, my lady." 

The Overseer's gait is noticeably hurried as he makes his way out of his office, and noticeably less so when he returns a few minutes later. In his hands is a bottle of amber-colored amasec with a label indicating a vintage one hundred and seventy-one years past from Scintilla, the capital of Great Calixis itself. Which is saying something, considering that that world is a Hive World and hardly known for its quality vineyards. The bottle is opened for what is apparently the first time and generous helpings are poured, and it swiftly become apparent that soil from a hideously-polluted industrial powerhouse does not make for the tastiest of vintages, no matter how many filters some entrepreneuring vinter no doubt attempted to use. Despite the rather mediocre taste, it is undoubtedly a very prestigious alcohol to be consuming, though the way the Overseer gulps it down indicates he probably isn't thinking much about that.


 
 Originally Posted by DrK 
 Walking with the Colonel and the men Krieger nods and listens carefully.  "Inside the city what are conditions like? Is it large enough for tracked vehicles or are the tunnels more cramped? We will need to see the most recent maps or at least the range of maps that have become available. Our Magos or Astropath may be able to make more sense of the strange goings on."  Kriger taps the bolt pistol,  "I only deal with more practical things."  
 

At the word "map", the soldiers around Krieger burst into derisive laughter, and the Colonel himself can be heard to snigger just a bit.

 "You want a map? Ask the Overseer. He's got dozens of 'em, half of 'em we made ourselves, didn't we?"  the soldiers continue to hoot behind the mercenary.  "They ain't any use. Place turns black as the void by night, all but useless to stay in there even if you're fool enough to try. The damned thing just seems to drink up any light you care to use. And then by morning the whole thing's changed. Gate's still open, but everything past that is different every sunrise. You can get a map, or make one, but it won't do you any good." 

 He pauses at the gun turret crouching down beside the autocannon and checking the mechanism and siting. With a curt nod he grins  "Its a good one, I have manned them before. Very well Colonel, I shall report to the Lady Captain that you've been responding to the Overseer's orders. But, I suspect the Lady Captain will be venturing into the City. We will need 2 of the chimera's made ready, clean and presentable and a squad of your toughest and best who have been inside. Any that have knowledge of the pathways they have seen before."  

 "Sir,"  the commanding officer begins, while his men continue to chuckle bitterly in the background, half drowned out by the howling winds.  "The Chimeras, the men, that I can do. But knowledge of previous pathways? Won't help you damned bit. They're never the same day to day.  Never ." 

 
 Originally Posted by The Glyphstone 
 Jay nods obediently as the Magos-Explorator's command breaks through the oppressive malus laid down upon him by the xenos city's aura, and he trails behind the two tech-priests to the tent while absent-mindedly stroking his cogwheel necklace. Inside, he is silent while the two priests exchange information, wondering their choice to vocally express data through the comparatively less-efficient Low Gothic instead of Binary is a deliberate effort to include him. When prompted by Agares, though, he steps up to the table and leans against his staff, while his blind eyes bore into the assortment of relics and trinkets in search of their unseen secrets.

 
 Spoiler: Psyniscience Test 

[roll0] vs 71.
 
 
 

 
 Spoiler: Jay 
Looking over the xenos artifacts using your second sight, it is readily apparent that each and every one of the items present, even down to the small glyph-covered shards of pottery-like stonework spread out across the displays, have been touched by psychic energies to one degree or another. All seem to share a similarly sickly yellow and blackish aura to them, though on most this is merely a trace clustered about the little bits of runic script carved into their surfaces, unlikely to ever have had any real power in the material realm. The aura of power appears noticeably stronger on the jagged blades and venom-dripping geodes. You can deduce that they are somehow able to absorb transform the roiling energies of the immterium into tangible, stable material objects, in this case either poison or simply more of themselves. Perhaps even more importantly, they are somehow able to ward off time's decay of their physical forms, at least to a limited extent.

However, to your blind eyes these alien blades and ammunition appear as if a bottle of amasec drained to its very last dregs. Their energies appear to be near to expiring, though given their sheer age that may yet take several human lifetimes to accomplish. You would hazard a guess that, many eons ago, these weaponized gemstones used to hold considerably more power than they do now. Either time itself has weakened whatever alien witchery was woven into their construction or something (someone?) has been ever so slowly sipping away at whatever energies were once contained in these xenos relics, such that physically destroying the runes that you can sense somehow woven deep into their internal crystalline matrix would probably be enough to dispel the traces of psychic power that remain, and most likely reduce them to dust in the process. Or maybe it is the fact that these particular relics have mostly been physically removed from the maze-city for Emperor only knows how long that has caused their power to decay?

The effect is much less pronounced with the shards of alien stonework, perhaps because they never contained any meaningful power at all. Weirdly, despite the fact that the iron-backed codex is entirely of human manufacture and merely serves as a record of twisting glyph writings of the Egarians, it too possesses the beginnings of a similar yellow and black aura, albeit considerably weaker than even the withered shadows of power huddling about their artifacts. Perhaps their written language in and of itself possesses some psychic qualities? Will this power too disperse in time?

As to the little colorful sphere though... it looks quite different from the rest, flickers of some shadowy aura swaying back and forth like an anemone in the ocean currents. You can sense the stink of sorcery about it. You would guess that it is a good deal younger than the other Egarian artifacts, and a good deal more powerful than they are in their current state. But what function exactly it serves isn't immediately clear to your psychic eyes. For your money, at least some of the serpentine glyphs on it are actively obfuscating its purpose.
 


 
 Originally Posted by Volthawk 
 Agares looks over the assorted items with interest, nodding with approval as he sees Jay begin his examination. 218 understood well. This was good, for while Agares saw much that the average person did not, in the shadows and in his dreams, rattling in his mind, the psyker in turn saw even more, things he'd never be able to sense, let alone understand.

The weaponry gets a cursory inspection - his main concern there is whether or not the shards can be extracted once placed in someone through one of these weapons, given that if their journey into the maze meant someone got hurt, it would fall onto him and his mechadendrites to fix the situation, one way or another. The chemicals are also mildly interesting, Agares mentally comparing the effects to those that he'd seen before in the hopes of finding understanding, but neither of those are what he's really interested in. Much as Desnel seemed to expect, though, Agares' main focus is on the codex, the more dextrous and capable of manipulation of his mechadendrites snaking out to grab it and open it, keeping it open for him to reference the other glyphs as he goes along the room. He doesn't speak through this process, the closest thing being a kind of incoherent binaric mumbling, old memories and new whispers colliding in his addled mind, the new lore in his hands in front of them potentially providing a key, which he could unlock...clarity, perhaps? Deeper madness? What they're screaming? Or just some mundane information on the nature of the maze. He wasn't quite sure yet.

 
 Spoiler 

Going to try to activate Whispers Unheard for a FL (Xenos) check to figure out something of use from the codex and writing we've got, and to see if he knows anything about where the mystery item might be from, given that it doesn't appear Egarian.
Whispers Unheard activation &lt;TN 55&gt;: [roll0]
 Forbidden Lore (Xenos)  &lt;TN 75, 102 if WU is active&gt;: [roll1]
If this test benefited from Whispers Unheard and succeeded, Insanity: [roll2]

Whispers Unheard is weird, as it benefits Int-based tests for just a round, but it's not like lore tests have an action involved. I'm figuring that given the actions involved IC (ie reading and examining), it only benefits the one FL test here at least, and so the following test doesn't benefit (and I won't bother with a second activation).
Scholastic Lore (Chymistry) for any relevant insights on the cystal acid &lt;TN 55&gt;: [roll3]
 
 
 

 
 Spoiler: Agares 
Looking over the codex, you find that it is, so far at least, merely a list of a handful of the many examples of the twisting, angular, almost mazelike Egarian runes, alongside broad concepts written in Imperial Low Gothic rather than Binary, presumably for the benefit of the uninitiated. While most of the concepts don't seem very useful, you do pick out ones indicative of the four cardinal directions, as well as those signifying the concepts of high and depth. These might be useful for working out directions within the maze, should any happen to show up on the wall etchings. Also, weirdly, the glyphs symbolizing the concepts of "north", "forward or straight", and "decay or ruination" appear to be almost identical in their language.

There is, to the best of your knowledge, nothing about the crystals that would prevent them from being manually extracted from a patient in the same manner as shards of glass or metal. It's the various toxic fluids that seem to slowly seep from somewhere within them that would pose the greatest challenge.

Whatever that little sphere is, it's like nothing you've seen before and does not seem to belong to any of the xenos species that you have any knowledge of. What you can say for certain is that it appears a good deal less weathered and aged than the Egarian artifacts, and the glyphs on it do not look to be related to the extinct xenos' script, linguistically speaking.

You don't figure out anything about the chemical drips coming from the various crystal setups.
 
DrK
 Krieger Huss 

Krieger nods to the Lady before stepping back and waiting for her to finish with the overseer. As she finished he nods.  “From what the men say there is little we can do to map or prepare. I suggest a scouting expedition in the morning MiLady and then we can see what they have to fear for ourselves.” 

He flicks the safety on one of the bolt pistols on and off in a nervous twitch but then waits and readies himself for the choice from the rogue trader.”
Volthawk
Agares closes the book and sets it back in its place, nodding to himself. Good, good. He had a little more understanding than before, but not complete...no, that would be too easy. His gaze returns to the mysterious sphere. It was not Egarian, of course not, so then...yes. Of course. And then the maze would...of course.   "Yes, yes. We are not the first to pick through the bones. Others came here once, a species we have never known. Or perhaps did once, but forgot. It matters little for now. They came here, perhaps with the same intentions as the raven, perhaps, and now are gone, leaving signs of their passing. An accident, perhaps, or as part of a dark agenda, yet to come to fruition. Or were they wiped out by the spirits of this place? Can't determine that yet. Not enough data. Perhaps some of them yet live, cursed to wander the maze for eternity."   Agares shakes his head a little, tearing his gaze away from the artefact before looking in Jay's diection.   "And you? You have insights to contribute, yes?"  
The Glyphstone
Jay nods slowly, his blind eyes fixed on the artefacts as he follows the gentle lines of power tracing their surfaces.

 "Insights, yes. The makers of these ancient devices, they drew upon the Immaterium with the very act of writing their alien words upon them. Every line an incantation, every stroke of the carving tool a prayer. The power that once burned bright within them has long faded, there is but the last feeble gasps of energy that serve only to poison the unwary with their touch." 

His gaze passes over the translation codex.

 "Here, the dead speak once more through the hands of those who would study them. Whispers of power surround these runes, the faintest echos of the Warp clinging to their form for all that they were carved by men and not xenos. Take care in how and when such a record is added to, lest in ignorance a spell of dread import is invoked upon it." 

Finally, he comes to the green-blue sphere and flinches slightly. One hand briefly traces a gesture of warding across his frail chest.  "And yet if the other shards were but the faded whispers of the dead, this one burns with the undying rage of its fallen masters. It bears the stinking miasma of xenos sorcery - perhaps younger than the rest, or else contained unimaginable power upon its creation. It knows I seek the secrets within, and calls upon its own strength to hide those truths from my sight. Be wary of this one." 
Henry the 57th
Not long afterwards, near the crack of dawn, the windy desert echoes with the sounds of squealing metal and rumbling tracks, as two of the dig site's four Chimera transports rumble out of the dust-clogged gates nearest the maze-city's open entranceway. Crammed into one such vehicle are the Lady-Captain and her chosen entourage, the other occupied by a squad of Linebreakers in full kit, to secure the entranceway or provide backup as required. The best, last-minute efforts of the Overseer and Colonel notwithstanding, the inside of the painfully-standard transport is cramped, hard, bumpy, and smells like a combination of machine old and iron ore. The enormous mutant techpriest alone takes up nearly a quarter of the available space inside, and that is with him crouching just a bit. Fortunately, if the ride across the rocky desert is uncomfortable it is also briefly, the destination being a mere few hundred meters away from the camp.

When the rear-facing hatch of the Chimera swings open with a hiss and a squeal, it is to a titanic, monolithic portal that somehow seems even larger up close than it did from the safety of the campsite's walls. Back then, the semi-hexagonal archway looked to be the size of a cathedral, capable of comfortably fitting an Imperial Knight inside it. Now it could almost be mistaken for the beginnings of a hive spire in its own right, and it appears to their eyes as though a  Reaver -class titan could stand right in the midst of its eerie, rune-etched stone frame and have ample room to spare. Next to such a monstrosity, the instinctive feeling of insignificance at the Explorers, a wordless promise that, whoever they are and whatever they have done, they are as fleeting specks compared to the builders of such magnificence, and should they dare to violate its sanctity, it will swallow them whole.

Set before the quartet, just beyond the awe-inspiring gateway, is what would appear to be a surprisingly-mundane dodecagonal atrium of yellowish-white and sandy brown stone, if not for its sheer size. Each of it's twelve identically-sized walls is centered a vastly-reduced copy of the opened exterior gateway, differentiated only by the specific patterns of the mind-numbing multitudes of runic script surrounding them, and, dozens of meters above those gates, three evenly-spaced rows on dark, rectangular portals seemingly punched directly into the stone walls. Each and every one of those thirty-six separate high openings sports identical rows of pillars so multi-sided that they can practically be called hecatontagonal, wider at the base and pinnacle and narrowest near the middle, giving them a rather disturbing resemblance to a set of closed, yellowing, monstrous teeth. Despite seeming to wholly lack any lumens or other obvious source of light, the interior appears entire illuminated by the slowly-rising sun, the stonework itself seeming to absorb and project the star's light into the maze-city, casting long shadows now facing mostly towards the west.

In the center of it all is... nothing. Or, perhaps it should be said, there is empty space. Besides a central octogonal sinkhole surrounded by a set of oddly-stretched stairs exactly thirteen steps long, the actual interior of this army-sized atrium appears to be totally devoid of anything noteworthy. There are no support pillars, no archways, no girders or grav-engines or anything at all suggesting by what manner of xenos witchery the countless millions of tons of stone suspended directly above the vast chamber are being held aloft. There is only a veritable field of xenos hieroglyphs etched ever so lightly into the floor, arranged in countless nonsensical mazelike patterns, overlapping and blending together into a confusing, jumbled mess that one could easily spend months picking over to no avail. If there is a positive to all of this bizarre architecture, it is that the claims of monsters are appearing totally unfounded. The Explorers can easily see for hundreds of meters into the maze-city, with absolutely no obstacles to offer any hostiles any sort of cover, and not a single shrieking, shadowy beast can be seen. Merely smooth stone and freshly-arrived bits of desert dust.

Behind the small group, the iron-masked soldiers of Hyzia are emerging from their own Chimera in good order, hands clamped firmly around their lasguns or else fingering aquila-shaped talismans. The quartet's accompaniment has notably brought along more heavy weapons than are strictly standard for the Imperial Guard. Two men are holding flamers while one is toting a standard-issue plasma gun. It's clear from the way that they are hanging back just outside the titanic portal that, barring a direct order to do so, these former guardsmen don't actually wish to set foot inside the vast xenos structure.

 
 Spoiler: All 
Give me Awareness checks, if you please.
 
boj0
 
 Spoiler: Awareness check 
 (1d100)[ 3 ]   TN 35
 


Captain Ravenholm steps out of the transport in her meticulously cleaned and enameled carapace armor, while the pomp and extravagance of her daily wear was enough to make a Spire Lord blush, she was no stranger to a more bloody form of claiming glory amd profit.

Edit: 3 DoS
The Glyphstone
Jay trails behind the Lady-Captain, cradling a well-used storm bolter in his hands. It looks almost too big for the frail man to carry alone, let alone wield in combat, but he holds it with the skill of a veteran even as he casts unseeing eyes across the room. As he does so, the pack on his back rustles and shifts of its own accord, before a tiny and metallic reptilian head pokes out to peer around as well.

 
 Spoiler 

Communing with my Psychic Familiar to get Assistance on the Awareness:  (1d100)[ 25 ]  vs. 81, +1 Degree of Success on a pass.    [6 DOS]
Psyniscience:  (1d100)[ 40 ]  vs. 71.    [3 DOS]
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger sits in the chimera the next day checking his packs, thumb stroking the ignition chamber on the massive multimelta as he looks around the interior of the chimera. As he bails out he motions to the walls to the left and right,  "You pair watch left, you pair watch right"  he barks an order to the scared looking guardsman before joining the Lady Captain's side.
 "Impressive structure. The xenos that built this must have some power and valuable xenotech somewhere in this maze." 

Pacing around the cave he glances at the entrances to the doors and chambers, lighting his glow lamps and shining them down the chambers as he glances at the floors scouting for any tracks.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Awareness  (1d100)[ 8 ]  TN 50
Survival (looking for tracks)  (1d100)[ 58 ]  TN 30
 

 
 Spoiler: Character Sheet 

 Krieger Huss 
 
 
 Spoiler: Background 
Frontier World [ +5 S, -5 Int, Survival, Wrangling, Leery of outsiders, Tenacious Survivalist, Xenos interactions, 7+2xTB wounds, 2 FP 
Fringe Survivor (Pitfighter) [200xp]:  +3 T or S, +3 WS, Rival (underworld), +1 CP 
Hunter (Xenos hunter) [200XP]:  +3 WS or BS, Leap up or Sprint, Scholastic Lore (Beasts) or Tracking 
Pressganged:  Trained in XXXX, COmmon Lore (XXXX); Jealous Freedom 
Exhilaration (New Horizons): [200XP]  Common Lore (Koronus expanse), Scholastic Lore (Astromancy) 


Krieger was brn on a nameless frontier world just through the "maw" in the Koronus Expanse. Living in the dusty and rusted freighter town that marked where an  unnamed Rogue Trader had set up a colony and then vanished he grew up to a mother in a brothel and no father. Strong and big for his age he quickly fell into the criminal elements acting an enforcer for a local gang and fighting in the underground pits to provide entertainment to the promethium miners that passed through and the small amount of locals who tried to keep the remaining space port vaguely serviceable.

Around his mid twenties his luck changed as he was pressganged (in the sense that he was drugged and taken aboard a passing Rogue Trader's vessel) and became part of the Crew of the  "Spiteful Vixen"  an small iconclast destroyer with a young and foolish rogue trader named Lillian Foxglove. The Foxglove dynasty was tiny and she plunged into the edges of space searching for wealth, but instead finding madness and xenos. Staggering back to Port Wander the ship was all but wrecked and like many of the crew Kreiger abandoned Foxgloveand signed on with Baron Hauss aboard the  "Star Plunderer" . A decade later and pirate boarding actions, subjugating frontier worlds and countless bar room brawls he was older, wiser and more experienced. Three more stints with different ships passed before he ended up aboard the XXXXXX with Lord XXXXX on his way to the Egrian Expanse.
 

    WS 
 BS 
 S 
 T 
 Ag 
 Per 
 Int 
 WP 
 Fel 
 
  41 
 38 
 37 
 37 
 35 
 32 
 35 
 35 
 31 
 
  +8 
 +13 
 +15 
 +13 
 +15 
  
 -5 
 +5 
  
 
  49 
 51 
 52 
 50 
 50 
 32 
 30 
 40 
 31 
 
  

Fate Points: 2 / 2
Wounds: 18 / 18
Corruption: 1
Insanity:  0
AP (soak): Head 5 (10)  Body/Arms/Legs 7 (12)

 Talents 
 
 Spoiler: Talents 
Rival (underworld)  (-10 Fel dealing with Criminal gangs) 
Sprint  (Move Ag bonus extra on Full move, Double move on Run action) 
Weapon Training (Basic universal)(Pistol universal) Melee (universal) Thrown (universal) Heavy (Melta)
Sound Constitution  +1 Wound 
Ambidextrous   (Reduce TWF penalties by 10) 
Quick Draw   Ready melee / basic / pistol as free action) 
Crack Shot  +2 Critical Damage ranged  
Sure Strike  Reverse hit locations if preferred 
Two Weapon (ballistic)   (attack with both weapons at -10) 
Rapid Reload   (Half reload times) 
True Grit   (half critical damage effcts) 
Crushing Blow   (+2 Damage with melee) 
Deadeye shot    (Reduce called shot to -10 penalty) 
Hipshooting     As full action  full move and shoot once on single shot) 
Killer's Eye       (If called shot scueeds &gt; target AB then target tales 1d5 critical effect) 
Bulging biceps    (Count as braced for Semi/Full auto heavy weapons) 
 

 Skills 
 
 Spoiler: Skills 
Awareness +20  Int 
Medicae  Int 
Survival  Int 
Literacy  Int 
Wrangling  Int 
Scholastic Lore (Beasts +10) (Astromancy) (Tactica Imperialis)  Int 
Forbidden Lore (Pirates)  Int 
Common Lore (Koronus Expanse) (War)  Int 
Secret Tongue (Military)  Int 
Speak Language (Low Gothic)  Int 
Dodge +20 (Ag)
Acrobatics +20  Ag 
Concealment +10  Ag 
Silent Move +10  Ag 
Intimidate +10  S 
 

 Traits 
 
 Spoiler: Traits 
Leer of outsiders:  -10 Fel tests with new people 
Tenacious Survivalist  Re-roll initiative (if do so must accept re-roll)   
Xenos Interaction:  Ignore Fear (1) and (2) when caused by Xenos 
Jealous Freedom:  React violently towards imprisonment, WP to resist  
 

 Equipment 
 
 Spoiler: Equipment 
Bolt Pistol             30m S/2/-  1d10+5X  4  8/8 Full Tearing  
Bolt Pistol             30m S/2/-  1d10+5X  4  8/8 Full Tearing  
GC Mono sword      melee       1d10+7R  2   Balanced, +5%WS  
Smoke grenade     Thown  S/-/-    Smoke  - 3/3   Smoke  (common)  
Frag Grenade        Thrown S/-/-  2d10X - 3/3   Blast 4   (Common)    
GC Multimelta            60m S/3/-  4d10+5E  8  10/10  2 Full  Blast (1)   Ex. Rare   

Enforcer Light Carapace   AP 5 ALL 
Subskin Armour    +2 AP body/Arms/legs   Very Rare  

Backpack   Plentiful ] 
Micro bead, Chrono  [ Plentiful ] 
Ration Packs (10)   Ubiquitous  
Photovisor [ Scarce ]  Gain Dark Sight trait 
Glow lamp (2) [ Abundant ]
Clip harness  [ common ]  Climbing harness +3o bonus 
Grapnel [ average ]  100m grappling hook and monofilament wire 
Rebreather [ Scarce ]  Breathing mask, breathe underwater, immune gases, 1 hour /canister (3) 

Void suit
Bolt shell keepsake
Manacles

Medikit             +20 to medicae tests 
3 doses Stimm  last 3d10 rounds ignore crit damage, ignore stunned, -20 S/T/Ag for 1 hour afterwards 
3 dose wideawake [ plentiful ]  Ignore fatigue for 1d5 hours, then gain +1 fatigue 
 

 XP Expenditure  /15000

 
 Spoiler: 14950 / 15000 Spent 
Character Background 4500
Rank 1 (4500 - 7000) --&gt; 7200
Background 600
Awareness 100
Forbidden Lore (pirates) 100
Ambidextrous 200
Medicae 200
Quick draw 200
BS +5 100
S +5 100
Ag +5 100
WS +5 250
T +5  250
S +10 250
Ag +10 250

Rank 2 (7200 - 10000) MANHUNTER
Silent move            200
Awareness +10       200
Concealment +10   300
Dodge +10             300
Crack shot              500
Sure strike              500
T +10                    500
Silent Move +10     300

Rank 3 (10000 - 13050)
Acrobatics                   200
Acrobatics +10            200
Awareness +20            200
Dodge +20                  300
Two Weapon (Ballistic)  200
Crushing Blow              500
BS +10                        250
Ag +15                        500
Rapid Reload                200
WP +5                         500
True Grit                      200

Rank 4 (13050 - 15000)
Dead eye shot             200
Hip shooting                200
Bulging Biceps             500
Heavy Weapons (Melta)   200
Killers Eye                   500
Literacy                      100
Intimidate +10            200

14950 spent / 15000 XP
 

 
Volthawk
Agares looked the same as Agares always did, his bulky robes hiding the carapace armour underneath. The hulking techpriest bristled with weapons - a power axe was fitted to one of his mechadendrites, another remaining armed with the las weaponry it always had, while one of his hands is covered by a large powerfist, modified for his size. The slung boltgun seems like something of an afterthought, just in case any trouble that comes is one he can't handle head-on.

When he sees the atrium, Agares strides into the center of it, his gaze sweeping over the muddled heiroglyphs - even to his mind, it seemed like nonsense - before looking up to take in the wider atrium. Fascinating. Perhaps there was something here, perhaps not, but he was not the one to find out. Reaching into his robes, Agares pulls out a servoskull, the thing looking strangely small in his hands, and releases it to float upwards and around the atrium.

 "More eyes. It will return soon, and we will see if it captured an image of something we did not. Then, perhaps, it can look into the places we decide not to. We don't need to stay here, in any case. We must go deeper. That is where their secrets may be found." 
 
 Spoiler 

Apologies for the delay, all.

Awareness 45:  (1d100)[ 99 ] 

On the topic of servoskulls, monotask skulls were within the rarity range we were able to take in addition to our proper acquisitions, but given they're a bit more involved than just some goggles I didn't assum that I could take a bunch. Agares has one from his starting gear (with a pict-capture device, to be clear), and I guess he'll have as many more floating around (instructed to go around where they're released, take picts, then return) as fits the narrative, from no more to many.
 
Henry the 57th
 
 Spoiler: Captain Ravenholm 
Looking around, it occurs to you that the walls of this dodecagonal atrium are exactly, mathematically evenly-spaced to an almost absurd degree. Each and every wall is identical, save for the exact combination of runes carved into it, including the spacing of the open, pillar-filled portals high above each open gate. Far above, the ceiling appears to be worked into a giant, almost flower-like spread of the same bewildering runic patterns, centering on a spot directly above above the center of the octagonal sinkhole in the middle of the atrium. Looking at that, it occurs to you than the runes in the center of that eight-sided pit are arranged in a much more flowing, smooth manner than that of the rigid, angular patterns seen elsewhere throughout the chamber. This culminates in outright circular swirl of the xenos script dancing around the exact center of the pit, which is uniquely barren of all glyphs or markings. Maybe standing there could somehow offer insight - or even activate something?

However, you don't see any life forms, or evidence that any have been in this chamber in a very long time.
 

 
 Spoiler: Jay 
Looking around, it occurs to you that the walls of this dodecagonal atrium are exactly, mathematically evenly-spaced to an almost absurd degree. Each and every wall is identical, save for the exact combination of runes carved into it, including the spacing of the open, pillar-filled portals high above each open gate. Far above, the ceiling appears to be worked into a giant, almost flower-like spread of the same bewildering runic patterns, centering on a spot directly above above the center of the octagonal sinkhole in the middle of the atrium. Looking at that, it occurs to you than the runes in the center of that eight-sided pit are arranged in a much more flowing, smooth manner than that of the rigid, angular patterns seen elsewhere throughout the chamber. This culminates in outright circular swirl of the xenos script dancing around the exact center of the pit, which is uniquely barren of all glyphs or markings. Maybe standing there could somehow offer insight - or even activate something?

However, you don't see any life forms, or evidence that any have been in this chamber in a very long time.
 

 
 Spoiler: Krieger 
Looking around, it occurs to you that the walls of this dodecagonal atrium are exactly, mathematically evenly-spaced to an almost absurd degree. Each and every wall is identical, save for the exact combination of runes carved into it, including the spacing of the open, pillar-filled portals high above each open gate. Far above, the ceiling appears to be worked into a giant, almost flower-like spread of the same bewildering runic patterns, centering on a spot directly above above the center of the octagonal sinkhole in the middle of the atrium. Looking at that, it occurs to you than the runes in the center of that eight-sided pit are arranged in a much more flowing, smooth manner than that of the rigid, angular patterns seen elsewhere throughout the chamber. This culminates in outright circular swirl of the xenos script dancing around the exact center of the pit, which is uniquely barren of all glyphs or markings. Maybe standing there could somehow offer insight - or even activate something?

Just as you're looking around some more, your eye suddenly, instinctively halts. It's very faint, and you have to squint just a bit, but on one of rectangular portals set high into the walls, you think you see something. There is, if you're not mistaken, a very faint hint of luminescent green hidden deep within the shadows of one of the tooth-like pillars. Whatever the source is, it is lurking in the second of three such portals above the open gateway in the roughly two o'clock position, a position scores of meters above you all and, most importantly, offering an absolutely unimpeded view of anyone coming in or out of the titanic entranceway. Or, for that matter, an unimpeded shot.

You do not, however, see any tracks along the floor. The stone is quite solid, and there seems to be a good deal less of the desert dust scattered across it than the consistently strong winds and wide open portal behind you would indicate.
 

 
 Spoiler: Agares 
You have the misfortune to turn your head just in time for a strong gust of wind to blow a cloud of desert dust right up into your face, the grit so utterly pervasive that it somehow worms its way right past your goggles. You need to take a little bit to clear your eyes of dust and tears, and suffice it to say that you see absolutely nothing.

As to the skulls, we'll say you can have a maximum of two for right now. The one that you've sent out is not showing anything new from the angle where it floats. Just this same huge atrium with the same deep shadows from higher up.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger upon spying the faint green luminescence gently grabs the Rogue Trader and guides her forwards to be against the wall directly under the hole metres above to ensure she is not in line of sight. A whispered  "Ware MiLAdy, there is a portal up there and a glow of some kind. Lets get out of line of sight."  He raises his multi melta and keeps it trained on the hole in the wall and he gestures to it, shouting to the chimera crew  "Cover that. Anything fires I want it lit up. " 

Looking he glances at the various doors and then around the command crew.  "They all look the same to me. Does anyone have a preference for what we one we go through?" 
Volthawk
Agares frowns as he clears the dust and grit, waving a hand dismissively at Krieger's question.   "Bah. I see no difference which way we go. The stone here tells no secrets, we'll only be able to plan depeer inside."  
boj0
The good Captain is all too keen to grasp the mystery as quickly as she can, noticing the more organic patterns. She looks to the others, " It appears the pattern seems to have a..flow, a direction . The center of the room seems auspicious a place as any to activate something." She points to one of the men-at-arms, " You there, stand in the center, and inform us if you can see anything different from that angle ."
The Glyphstone
Jay holds up a hand.  "Caution, my lady. The script that surrounds us lingers with the warp-tainted power of this cursed place. The alignment of this chamber stinks of dormant ritual - I do not know what will happen when someone stands upon that spot, but we should all be wary for whatever occurs." 
Henry the 57th
 "As... as you wish, my lady,"  the designated guardsman says after a moment's pause. The grey and purple armored man's face is invisible behind his iron war mask, but the way he clutches his lasgun close to his chest says enough. It takes the former Imperial Guardsman several seconds of standing around, being stared at by half his colleagues and studiously avoided by the other half, before he works up the nerve to take a step past the portal entrance.

Once he has managed to force himself inside, though, the man moves with an almost exaggerated quickness. Grey boots echoing off yellowish-white stone, lasgun held high and finger just short of squeezing the trigger, the soldier all but runs across the vast space of the atrium. The barrel of his gun swivels this way and that, tracking nothing at all, but he only picks up speed. By the time he actually descends the thirteen elongated steps surrounding the central pit he actually is running, and the remainder of his journey is an outright sprint with his rifle clutched close to his armored chest, head jerking spasmodically from this way to that.

The guardsman doesn't so much reach the designated position as combat roll onto it, clearing the last meter and half with a fluid, practiced motion that sees him atop the smooth stone on one knee, huddled to minimize his target profile, barrel of his weapon held in a firing position just above his head. For a few seconds, all that seems to happen is that unfortunate man continuing to swivel his weapon around aimlessly, looking for a target but finding nothing but more runic stone. A moment later and the four intrepid adventurers can feel a slight tremor in the heels of their boots, hear the whispering rattle of the sand scattered at their feet. Just a heartbeat after that comes the rough, pounding sound of stone grinding on stone, magnified by the tunnels around it and blasted outwards from one of the dozen opened gateway to echo easily throughout the titanic atrium. It is, the explorers pointedly notice, coming from the gateway directly beneath where Krieger pointed out the glow from high above.

Then, just as suddenly, the Ravenholm soldier, still half-crouched on the bare stone floor, lets out a low and miserable-sounding moan that echoes a good deal more than it ought in this absolutely enormous space, especially with the sounds of grinding stone still audible. His distant form spasms once, then collapses face first onto the ground, limp as an ancient Terran jellyfish. At least one oddly muffled cry of distress erupts from the other men still just outside.
Volthawk
Feeling mildly irritated at not having noticed anything here himself, Agares nonetheless watches the man's misadventure with some interest, nodding to himself when he keels over. A sacrifice demanded by this place, perhaps. Or perhaps the fate of a mind not suited to understanding what the labyrinth was telling him. Hard to tell.

In any case, he had a job to do. Agares strides out towards the center of the room, stopping a metre or so away from the limp body and whatever secrets the center of the room held. One mechadendrite, the largest one tipped with a grasping hand, extends out to grab the body, lifting it and pulling it away from the center (Agares also stepping back once he has it), while another, tipped with medical equipment - a set of injectors, a humming chainscalpel, staplers and the one system of use here, diagnostic sensors and aids - moves around the body, helping Agares in his assessment of what's going on here. It would likely be a quick check - confirm the death and move on - but perhaps not...

 
 Spoiler 

Doing a diagnosis, confirming whether or not the guy's properly dead and if not if there's anything we can do.
Medicae 95 (Insanity 55 + 20 Training + 10 Master Chirurgeon + 10 Medicae Mechadendrite):  (1d100)[ 99 ] 
 
boj0
" Fascinating ...", Lisette thinks to herself. She then shouts to the techpriest, " Master Agares, any indication of what caused that? "
Henry the 57th
Agares does not feel anything especially unusual as he approaches the center where the other man lies sprawled out on the stone. He experiences no particular resistance as his mechanical appendages reach into the circle of barren stone to retrieve him, nor does he experience anything unusual or burdensome as he drags the soldier clear. As he begins turning the guardsmen over to inspect him, Agares can see right away that the downed man is still breathing and has a wild and erratic but functional pulse.

 "My lady,"  the squad's leader, still too reluctant to actually step over the threshold, says to Captain Ravenholm,  "Now... you've seen... it... for yourself, you must understand... this place is cursed. We should leave here at-" 

The sergeant is cut off suddenly as one of Agares' gripping mechadendrites suddenly jerks just a fraction more severely than he meant it to. The limp soldier he is holding twists far more than a human body ought. The sound of his neck snapping somehow manages to echo far further through the atrium than the laws of physics suggest should be possible. Absolutely everyone there can hear the apparent murder of the helpless man just as if they were standing right beside the two of them.
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger mutters a faint oath under his breath as the man collapses then watches in near revulsion as the shambling tech priest snaps the man's neck as he drags him free.  "Agares, by the throne why did you kill him?"  He trains his melta on the space above though and barks to the man who spoke,  "Xeno trickery be dammned. We'll get what is owed"  Then he glances at the tunnels trying to judge if the portals are big enough for the armourerd chimera to drive down whilst he waits for the tech priest to explain himself.
Volthawk
Agares nods to himself as examines the man. It seemed that his latter hypothesis was correct. A mind not capable of understanding what just happened to it. A deficiency in this particular mind, perhaps, or a simple fact of the differences between Egarian and human minds. Perhaps the psyker...

His musings are interrupted by the raven calling out. Ah, yes. He had a job to do here. Looking back, he calls out.   Alive. Erratic. Unprepared for the mental-"   The snap interrupts him - it's hard to read Agares, given the nature of his robes and cybernetics, but the sound almost seems to have surprised him too. He drops the body rather unceromoniously (there was little value there anymore, after all) and brings the mechadendrite around so that the manipulator is in front of him, experimentally opening and closing the mechanical hand before taking a closer look at the mechanisms involved as he returns to the others.

  "Bah. Mechanical fault. I will find the cause. We can move on."   The concept (however true it likely was) that it was down to an accident on his part, given the monstrous strength both man and mechadendrite are capable of, seems to not cross his mind. Nor does any kind of guilt or responsibility for the man's death.
The Glyphstone
Jay sighs, entwining his fingers in the sign of the cogwheel.  "The man's fate was sealed the moment he stepped across that circle. Such dark rituals inevitably demand but one payment to fuel their power - blood. His soul is with the Omnissiah now, and it is our duty to ensure his sacrifice does not prove to be in vain." 
DrK
 Krieger 

As the soldiers neck snaps from the mechandrite Krieger shakes his head, a quiet  “mechanical error, don’t think the omnisah wants that one.”  Before turning his attention to his fellow senior crew.  ”Glow lamps on, shall we push on?” 
boj0
" Indeed, we should push forward. "
Henry the 57th
 "My lady..."  the squad sergeant's eyes, only just visible beneath his war mask, are darting back and forth. Several of his men have already raised their weapons, including the plasma gunner currently leveling his heavy firepower directly at the distant form of hulking mutant techpriest.  "You can't be serious!"  he takes several steps forward, actually crossing the threshold of the maze-city, seemingly without being aware of it. He holds out a hand.  "That  mutant freak  just killed one of your own men, right before your eyes! It's either in league with this place or possessed by it!"  He sounds imploring.  "Please, milady,"  he his gaze shifts quickly to Krieger and Jay,  "milords, see sense! Purge the mutant, and let's be away from this place before it chooses it's next victim!" 

Krieger, his eyes set on the more distant tunnel from which the grinding noise emerged, takes just a few seconds to determine that a Chimera would be able to drive through the opened gateway, albeit there is not enough space for two to drive abreast, so if both were taken it would have to be in single file. Whether the tunnel will widen or narrow as it goes on, he can't quite make out from here. Military man that he is, it also occurs to him that if there were some sort of alien control somewhere to close the internal opened gateway, a large armored vehicle would have a good deal more trouble finding its way out than a small team on foot.
boj0
" Sergeant, you would do well not to insult your superiors, it is not befitting a man of your station. Krieger, I'd know that shift in body language anywhere; take point and please share your insight ," The captain ignores the man's fears, far more interested in the too perfect construction of the ruins. " and Master Agares, if we could avoid mechanical failures in the near future that would be best. "
The Glyphstone
With Jay's patience beginning to fray, he spins toward the squad of troopers and glares blindly in their direction.  "Enough of this! 

The plasma gunner's weapon abruptly rips free of his grasp, hovering in mid-air and spinning until he is facing down the barrel of his own gun.

 "We stand upon cursed ground. The Magos did not murder that man any more than the gun in your hand is what chooses to kill your enemies. If we do not stand together in faith, one by one these ruins shall claim us all in turn, either as weapon or offering. Even now it claws at the seams of your mind, whispering hints of treachery and heresy in your ears. Cease this foolishness - remember your oaths, and let us ensure the sacrifice made by your comrade is not in vain." 

Jay lets the plasma gun settle to the floor gently before releasing it before turning away, his frail shoulders shuddering slightly with effort. The cyborg lizard in his backpack sticks its head out to hiss malevolently in the squad's direction and disappears.


 
 Spoiler 

Focus Power for Mind Over Matter.  (1d100)[ 90 ] vs 96. Pass (barely).
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger looks at the Sergeant and beckons the man.  "Assign two men to join us, the rest of you form up in here and have the chimera cover the portal, I'd like the tank parked in the doorway to stop anything closing or the like"  he adds before looking down the passageway. Activating a glow lamp he hefts up the massive multimelta that radiates a dull dry heat and starts walking down the tunnel, eyes wide and alert to danger and safety disengaged. Glancing at the Lady Capatain he suggests,  "MiLAdy, perhaps it would be best
 for you to walk beyond the Magos... he's as solid a bulwark as we'll find down here." 
Volthawk
Agares turns to look at the complaining man, appraising him silently. He considers enlightening the fool on what he was looking at, that what he dismissed as a "mutant freak" was far much more, the work of those whose minds the sergeant could barely comprehend which, yes, was complicated by mutation but through the engineering of flesh and steel had become...something greater. But it was pointless. The foolish and fearful will not  listen , let alone understand. That is why those like himself, like the raven who led them, like 217 and the armsmen, those with true  will  and determination, must lead the way. So instead, he just turns and walks forward into the tunnel.
Henry the 57th
 "But, my lady..."  the sergeant manages to protest,  "But..." 

The man is interrupted by the sight of Jay simply tearing the plasma gun from his comrade's hands, then spinning it right back around to point at another one of his men. What can be seen of his eyes visibly widen at the sight, and some of his men flinch away from the psyker's words, or at least from the big gun he is now holding. When Jay puts it back down, the disarmed man scrambles with almost indecent haste to collect his weapon, pressing it tightly to his chest and glaring daggers at the man who took it from him. When Krieger gives the lot of them a clear order, they seem to hesitate for a few seconds, milling around just outside the entranceway, until their sergeant gives a clearly reluctant nod. It is only then that they take slow, gradual steps through the threshold, fanning out as if in hostile territory with weapons held high. A few seconds later, a Chimera's engine roars as it too reluctantly trundles inside.

It takes a few minutes for the entire party to cross the vast atrium to reach the gate where the sound emerged from, their footsteps seeming to to echo louder and the rumbling machine softer than either really ought. Once the armored vehicle has placed itself firmly in the center of where any closing gates would have to go, the four explorers pass right through the opened portal with no resistance. Two soldiers, one with a lasgun and the other with a flamer, accompany the small party. Per Krieger's instructions, the others form up in a defensive perimeter around the Chimera, looking like they would trade their own mothers for some sandbags when they aren't throwing sullen glares at the mutant techpriest.

The tunnel beyond the gate proves to be much simpler than the entranceway's atrium. It starts around four times the height of a man when the group enters, though it only take a few minutes of walking at a mild pace for that comparison to shrink to thrice. The walls here the same smooth cut yellowy white stone as the remainder of the maze, but though the glyphs seen outside are in evidence they are much reduced, both in number and scale. Most of the surrounding walls are plain stone. As they go down the straight, unwavering path, the small party soon notices that the light around them is growing dimmer, and floor beneath them is growing increasingly slanted downwards. But before the group has time to truly delve deep into a maze of subterranean passages, they encounter this tunnel's first deviation. No more than two or three minutes down the path from the gate, a random section of tunnel wall appears to have just... melted into the floor. It's just missing, leaving a small gap where there ought to be more seamless stone, with the tunnel obviously continuing on right past it, deeper into the depths.

One quick glance inside the exposed room is enough to get their attention. Just past the entranceway, in a room no larger than the Chimeras the explorers have brought along, shines a dazzlingly brilliant gemstone sculpture. The ornament of singular beauty is sculpted of a single, smooth, flawless gemstone the flowing aquamarine color of the most idealized tropic seas, perched atop a tetragonal plinth and surrounded on three sides by what might be oversized, backless stone benches, it almost seems to shine with a light of its own. Just over a meter in height and half that wide, it depicts a smooth, serpentine beast of unknown provenance, twisting and turning about itself in a sinuous dance. Sculpted jewel waves lap against its side, and its fang-filled, cavernous maw is frozen open, as if roaring defiance to an uncaring sky. Four staring, polished black eyes with yellow slits for pupils constitute the only break in its otherwise harmonious color pattern. Standing out so beautifully against the dull yellowish-white stone surrounding it, it's hard to believe that this treasure just sitting there. Completely undefended, apparently.
boj0
" Hmmmm, a beautiful prize in the middle of an empty room, my greatest hesitation is simply debating whether the floor gives out at the first step, or if a hail of las shots will cut down the first hand to touch it. Do we have auspex or scanners at the ready? I refuse to die at the hands of the most basic of crypt security ." Lisette scoffs at the blatant attempt at baiting her.

(Using her Exceptional Leader ability, Lisette will give Jay a +10 bonus to his next Awareness test)
The Glyphstone
 "It is not the trap we can see that is dangerous - the danger is in the trap we are not meant to detect." 

Jay casts his mystic senses out across the room and the crystal sculpture, studying their surroundings in the physical world while simultaneously searching for psychic resonances that might indicate a warp-based trap.

 
 Spoiler: Tests 

Awareness:  (1d100)[ 100 ]  vs 71+10 Familiar Teamwork, +10 Exceptional Leader = 91
Psyniscience:  (1d100)[ 32 ]  vs. 71
 
The Glyphstone
Drop a Fate point on that Awareness test:
 (1d100)[ 35 ]  vs 91, Redux
5+1=6 net Degrees of Success
Henry the 57th
 
 Spoiler: Jay 
 Looking around the small room, you can see that it's quite plain, with the statue-bearing plinth and the three stone benches being the only apparent furniture contained within. The whole thing being no larger than a Chimera, there simply isn't room for much else. The walls and roof are the same yellow-white stone as the rest of the maze, with just a smattering of runes scattered here and there. Looking carefully, you do spot a very slight seam on the back wall, which may indicate that there is another such door on the room's opposite side, but no clear way to open it from here.

On the psychic level, that same yellow and black aura of withered power that you saw around the artifacts now pervades absolutely everything around you like a choking fog, albeit gathered rather thinly on around most of the stone. The statue too has that same psychic scent, mixed with a little bit of blue and purple. You don't detect any special psychic abnormalities in or around the room itself (at least not any not also omnipresent throughout the remainder of the structure). However, looking directly at the statue with your second sight, you can see that it was once an object of great power... or... contained a  being  of great power, but no longer. By itself, it should be mostly safe to the touch, only a little bit more psy-active than the artifacts already contained within the campsite. The truly concerning question that occurs to you is: if the great power that it bears the traces of  was  a being of the Warp, how did it get out and where is it now?

As far as you can tell, though, this room does not appear to contain any physical or psychic traps.
 
The Glyphstone
Jay smiles thinly, witch-light flickering around the edges of his blind eyes.  "Interesting. This room was never meant for you, my lady, nor any of us living or dead. What lies before us is not a trap but a prison for something of great and unspeakable power that broke its chains long ago. Where it has gone, and when, is lost to the mists of time - but the passage continues beyond that far wall. 
DrK
 Krieger 

As the psychic speaks and assures them its safe Krieger walks into the room and does a slow circuit of the statue before gingerly reaching out and tapping it gently. Assuming it doesn't kill him he grins and waves at the two guardsmen,  "You too, get on the vox, get the rest of the squad down here. They can get a tarp and cart this back to the chimera. See, a little walk and we are finding some good stuff." 

As the astropath mentions a prison for something he glances around,  "A prison aye? Lets hope they can burn"  he adds tapping the multi-melta
Henry the 57th
Krieger finds the alien statue smooth and cool to the touch, and there is no obvious reaction to his fingers gentle prodding. No traps go off, no alarms wail, no doors slam suddenly slam shut. The xenos artifact remains an inert statue on a plinth, even when the soldier grows bolder and runs a hand directly over it. It seems, for all intents and purposes, to be ordinary sculpted gemstone of unknown providence.

 “Of course, sir,”  the flamer-wielding trooper answers the armsman’s order.  “I take it you’ll want us to remain here to, uh, the secure the area while awaiting retrieval?”  he can’t quite conceal the note of hope in his tone, nor the uneasy sideways glance at the mutant techpriest.
boj0
Captain Ravenholm looks over the prize, a unique attifact like this was certainly worth placing on a table to look menacing during negotiations, but it certainly wasn't worth the resources and manpower put into it, she gives a sligh sigh and a smile. " Well look at that, a little bit of spine and we  can  find treasure, but now we need to find enough to make this entire expedition worthwhile. "
DrK
 Krieger 

Looking at the statue the grizzled older man nods to the guards.  “see if you can get it up and in the chimera? May as well have something pretty for the Lord Captains table” 
With the door at the back he asks the techno magus.  “Can you open it magos or shall I use my key?”  at the latter he taps the slightly smoking multi melta
Volthawk
Agares had remained dismissive of the looks he was being given by the men, or perhaps hadn't even noticed that it had continued after the situation earlier had resolved. With a man like him, it was hard to tell, but he walked with serenity despite the troubles both within and without the group. The treasure does pique his interest, but it swiftly becomes clear to him that this mystery was the business of 218 rather than himself, so he lets the process go on before stepping into the room at Krieger's call and walking towards the sealed door, giving it an appraising look before getting up close to figure out how it works.

  "Perhaps. Perhaps not. The ways of xenos machinery are often...strange. Let me see..."  
 
 Spoiler 

Awareness (TN 44) to see any non-obvious ways of interacting with the door and its systems:  (1d100)[ 66 ] 
If that succeeds, or there is an obvious means of interaction, Tech-Use (TN 85) to try to make something happen with the door's systems and get it open:  (1d100)[ 78 ] 
In case it's at all needed, Forbidden Lore (Xenos) (TN 75):  (1d100)[ 97 ] 
 
Henry the 57th
 
 Spoiler: Agares 
Looking over the white stone wall, the only indication of the sealed doorway that you can see is the narrow, spiderweb-thin crease in rock. There are no other such instances that you can see, nor any obvious means of activation from this side. In your opinion, the only currently viable means of egress would be an application of physical force, either by your own enhanced strength or Krieger’s melta.
 
Volthawk
Stepping back from the door, Agares glances back at Krieger and gives a small shake of the head.   "Human hands were not meant to open this stone. Or any hands, perhaps...their minds were the key, perhaps. In any case, we will have to use force."  
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger hearing that nods and gestures everyone back.  "Fire in the hole"  he calls out before launching a ball of superheated molten fire at the wall.

 OOC
to hit  (1d100)[ 86 ]  TN 51+30 point blank+ ??? for it being a wall
Damage  (4d10)[ 5 ][ 6 ][ 9 ][ 7 ](27)  +7 PEN 8, 16 for close range (unless that is the only war melta weapons?)
- if Righteous fury  (1d100)[ 15 ]  and additionals d10's as needed  (3d10)[ 2 ][ 2 ][ 10 ](14) 
 
Henry the 57th
The white-yellow stone hisses and roars as it is impacted by the superheated energy erupting from Krieger's weapon. Dribblets of red-hot magma trickle down towards the floor and choking, foul-smelling smoke fills the room. The two remaining Hyzian guardsmen cough noxiously, frantically waving their free hands through the air as they rapidly back out of the statue room and into the wider tunnel. The door set almost perfectly into the wall glows cherry red directly at the impact site and has fresh cracks running up and down its length and breadth, but even through the malodorous grey and black haze it is clear that a single melta shot was not enough to break it open.

Already committed, Krieger does what any good soldier does when a target fails to fall down and die - he shoots it again. The second blast strikes near perfectly atop the center of the molten crater, further superheating the xenos stonework. Head-sized globs of molten magma slough languidly to the floor, hissing and spitting as they become the only remaining light source in the smog-choked room. It is only by the light of the liquified rock that the gunner can tell that a small opening has been forced, driblets of red-hot lava pattering into a fist-sized hole into the darkness beyond. It doesn't take much thinking to pull the trigger a third and final time. With a thunderous crash halfway between creaking wood and moaning ghasts, the hidden doorway finally succumbs to the holy wrath of the Omnissiah, a full two thirds of it crashing to the ground in a puddle of glowing, semi-molten goop - the only thing now visible in the otherwise pitch-black room.

The explorers' ears ache as a horrible, echoing sound emerges simultaneously from the way newly open before them and the tunnel from whence they had come. Half the wild yapping of a rabid canid, half screeching war cry of a demented savage, it bounces off the enclosed space far more than it should, a piercing shriek of unmistakable hostility, driving its way directly into the frontal lobes of all present. Gun barrels shift this way and that, weapons are clutched tightly to chests, flickering eyes darting this way and that, searching the darkness enveloping them for the slightest sign of movement. But, as they stand there, whether with backs to walls or backpedaling swiftly into the more open corridor, none of the men or women present catch sight of anything.

It takes the black smog far less time to clear than it ought. Perhaps thirty seconds after Krieger's final shot, the dazzling aquamarine statue can again be seen atop its dull plinth in the center of the room, a few final whisps of grey smoke vanishing all around it. And behind that first treasure, behind hissing and smoking globs of rapidly-blackening magma scattered across the floor, is the now opened portal. Looking through it, the four explorers can see the outlines of yet another hallway, this one visibly darker than the others, far narrower and heavily sloped. It doesn't take much deduction to realize that if they follow this path, they will be rapidly descending into the underground portions of the maze city, where the sun never shines.
Volthawk
Having stepped back to just behind Krieger for the firing, Agares watches with interest as the multi-melta does good work on the door, nodding to himself - that was a fine weapon, and did good work. The man never failed to prove himself worthy of the Omnissiah-granted equipment he used. The smog didn't seem to bother him, his respiratory implants working to mitigate the noxiousness of the gas.

The shriek distracts him a little from his observation, turning to look down the way they came (not that he can see much through the haze) before returning to look at the doorway.   "Fascinating. Something tied to this place, perhaps, that was alerted by us damaging the structure. Old sentinels, or with that noise...old pets, perhaps. Or perhaps just an alarm that fits the nature of those who made it."   He looks back again, out of the smoke at the fearful guardsman, and calls out a little louder.   "It would not do to lag behind. If we are safe, then it is pointless, and if we are not, then we will be surrounded, hunted from both sides. Hiding in the back simply offers yourself up as prey to that which follows, yes."  

By this point, the smog had cleared, and Agares steps forward, clearly intending to keep walking into the darkness, pausing after he gets through the doorway to look back at the others, expecting them to follow. The thought of doing anything other than continuing in this direction evidently hadn't crossed his mind.
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger waits for the smoke to clear before hefting the melt in one hand pulls out the glow lamp in the other and slowly advances to the hole in the wall, a grin at the guardsman,  "Well that woke the xeno scum up didn't it"  as the screams. Getting to the hole he carefully plays the glow lamp around to scan the area that is now open before he hops through the opening and motions the others.  "Keep eyes open and weapons tight, I don't want a jumpy grunt putting one between my shoulder blades." 

With that said he begins to slowly advance, light shining out in front as he looks for danger
boj0
Captain Ravenholm draws her power sword and readies herself, " Eyes open, mind clear, and may the Emperor protect. "
The Glyphstone
Jay looks down at the storm bolter cradled in his hands, focusing on it through the swirling tides of warp-power flowing around the necropolis. For several seconds it sits immobile, the faint whispers of dead xenos and humming, furious energy distracting him, but eventually he is able to pierce the shrouds and fix his mind upon the blessed weapon. It lifts out of his hand and begins to float in mid-air in front of him, guided by the strength of will instead of weak, fallible flesh.

 
 Spoiler 

Precision Telekinesis at Fettered Strength:  (1d100)[ 87 ]  vs. 81.
 
Henry the 57th
Boldly, and without showing a shred of fear, the explorers choose to led their incredibly reluctant followers through the blasted out remains of the hidden doorway. Exactly as they surmised, the path ahead is far more heavily sloped than their previous way, carrying them into the depths of the maze city with an almost frightening alacrity. It takes less than thirty seconds of walking for the sight of the brighter corridor they left behind to vanish, and perhaps another thirty before the white and yellow stone around them all but ceases to give off light. There can be little question that they have passed beneath the surface of the earth, and hopefully the deepest delve with gather the greatest rewards. At least some lights will be needed here, that much is clear.

The quartet and their pair of subordinates only get walk amidst the darkness for a very short while. One moment they are proceeding down the dim, sloped corridor at a moderate pace, and the next an overwhelming sense of cold races through their flesh, chilling all present to their core. Before they can stop to ask why, the wall just ahead of them seems to come alive. Something dark and massive seems to glide from - or through - the solid stone before them with ease.

The explorers have the space of a single heartbeat to stare at the thing. Equal parts dark grey mist and faintly shimmering yellowish dust, it towers almost twice the height of a man. It's upper body is something vaguely humanoid mounted atop a lower portion that resembles nothing so much as a whirling dust tornado, with a pair of heavily stretched, unnaturally gangly and bent arms ending in hands with seven irregular boney digits. An elongated skull is perched atop a rail thin neck, displaying an angular, boney face locked into a perpetual open-mouthed moan. A pyramid of five hollow eye sockets peers down at the intruders for but an instant, and then the thing lets out a spine-chilling wail of the utmost despair. It lunges forward in a sudden frantic burst of speed.

 
 Spoiler: All 
Roll initiative. You're all in a corridor approximately 3m wide, with the specter starting about 5m from the party, in the direction of the darker places below.

Specter's initiative:  (1d10+5)[ 7 ] 
Guardsmen's initiative:  (1d10+3)[ 7 ] 

Oh, and boj0, what armor is the good captain wearing? I assume not the power armor.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger looks at the spectre, ice gripping his spine at the creature. Bellowing he looks at the guardsman,  "Charge you fools, protect the captain"  before he steps back a couple of m and launches a ball of super heated plasma at it.


 
 Spoiler: OOC 


Ignore Fear (1) and (2) from xenos due to trait
Fire multi melta  (1d100)[ 71 ]  TN 70 (50 + 10 close range + 10 singe shot)  Damage  (4d10)[ 6 ][ 6 ][ 3 ][ 1 ](16) +5 PEN 8
(RF if needed  (1d100)[ 93 ]  TN 70, extra d10's as needed  (3d10)[ 5 ][ 10 ][ 3 ](18) )

Dodge if needed  (1d100)[ 2 ]  TN 70
 
boj0
Lisette barely gets a glance of at the monster before her words bark out in instinct, where some would duck or run, maybe even lose themselves in adrenaline and fight - a Rogue Trader's self-defense instinct is to have another person run in front of them. " TO ARMS! FOR THE EMPEROR! "

 
 Spoiler 
Initiative 11
Captain Ravenholm will take a Defensive Stance action.
Note that she has Jaded so is immune to mundane xenos fear, and also Into the Jaws of Hell, so our NPC minions are also not going to break.
She is wearing her carapace armor currently but does have a power field
 
Volthawk
Agares doesn't hesitate when he sees the creature down the hallway. Lesser horrors like these didn't phase him, after what he had seen before, and indeed situations like these were why he had delved so deeply into the arts of biological and technological augmentation in the first place. He simply laughs, that grinding mechanical sound, and charges, striking out with his power fist and the heavy power blade attached to one of his mechadendrites, more concerned about offence than defence. His swings were not particularly accurate, but between the power fields and the techpriest's raw strength, any that connected promised to do some real damage.

 
 Spoiler 

Looks like I'm going first, so here we go. Not sure if its height means it's Hulking, or if its skinniness and gangliness means it gets away with not being a category larger. If the former, add +10 to the below TNs from size.

 Full Action: Charge the Specter and attack with power fist 
Attack, TN 64 (WS 49 + 10 Charge + 5 Craftsmanship):  (1d100)[ 63 ] 
Damage:  (2d10)[ 1 ][ 1 ](2) +18 E, Pen 9

 Reaction: Attack with mechadendrite-mounted power axe 
Attack, TN 54 (WS 49 + 5 Craftsmanship):  (1d100)[ 63 ] 
Damage:  (1d10)[ 2 ](2) +16 E, Pen 7

Since others mentioned their Fear resistances, if this thing does have Fear it'll only affect Agares if it's rating 3 or 4.
 
The Glyphstone
Jay stares unflinchingly back at the xenos horror, studying the warp-spawned reflection of its corporeal form carefully. Where the less perceptive members of the Rogue Trader's retinue were forced to guess where the spectral creature was most vulnerable, he could follow the lines of energy through its body to where they met. The storm bolter suspended in front of him twisted to aim, and he began to chant a hymn to the Omnissiah as he pulled the trigger to send a tearing burst of shells through the alien.


 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Fear check:  (1d100)[ 68 ]  vs. 71
Unshakeable Faith re-roll:  (1d100)[ 84 ] 


Full Auto Burst with Storm Bolter:
 (1d100)[ 96 ]  vs 71 (WP) +20 FA, +Size
If required, Fate Point:  (1d100)[ 6 ] 
[roll]2d10b1+5[/roll] Damage - Storm, Tearing.
 
Henry the 57th
The giant techpriest reacts by far the fastest of anyone present, his superior senses and augmented limbs doubtless lending him the Omnissiah's own speed. As he charges the towering, wispy abomination, a storm of energy and bullets are already flying through the air. Krieger's melta and Jay's telekinetic bolter both seem to strike true, punching through the swirling storm of the abomination's towering body and out the other side with contemptuous ease. In fact, so easily that they keep on going right down the tunnel behind it, gouging and melting chunks out of the surrounding stone. Agares has not the time to contemplate this before he swings his two heavy melee weapons directly into the hideous gheist's midsection, tearing right through its body of dust and mist as if it weren't there. In fact, he encounters no resistance at all more solid than the air, and it's only his own massive strength that allows him to avoid overcommitting to the swing and unbalancing himself.

But if any of the blows scored a telling hit on the monster, it seems hard to tell. Grey clouds and golden dust flow right into the holes so punched into its ethereal form. The warped simply moans, a low cry of anguish mixed with a keening predatory wail, before spasming madly at the massive target just presented to it. It throws its entire body at Agares without hesistation, gangly limbs flailing wildly in the manner of a starving man tearing into a fresh carcass. Mismatched digits seem to ignore weapons, armor, clothing, and augmentics alike, clawing desperately for the warmth of the mutant flesh underneath.

Behind the explorers, the pair of Hyzian guardsmen seem emboldened by their Captain's steadfast bravery in the face of this xenos horror, snapping their lasguns up and opening fire with both barrels blazing. Red lasbolts flash through the dark corridor. Several of their shots prove to be accurate, piercing the insubstantial mass of the specter's form in several places, but these merely continue on out the other side as the previous weapon strikes did. If these pinpoint strikes inflicted any real hurt on it, it gives no sign.

 
 Spoiler 
For reference, yes, the Specter is Hulking.

Specter makes an All Out Attack on Agares:  (1d100)[ 44 ]  vs. 73.

Attack may be Dodged but cannot be Parried except by a Force Weapon.

If hit, take no damage but make a Willpower test at -20 or else gain  (1d5)[ 5 ]  Insanity points as mind-bending visions of ancient apocalypse overwhelm your mind, compelling you to run directly forward, deeper into the maze for  (1d10)[ 2 ]  rounds. If you succeed, you instead gain  (1d3-1)[ 1 ]  Insanity points as you mentally muscle your way through the death shrieks of worlds and are not compelled to run away.

Guardsmen open fire on the Specter with Semi-Auto Burst:  (1d100)[ 39 ]  vs. 45
 (1d100)[ 24 ]  vs. 45

If hit:
 (1d10+3)[ 7 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 9 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 4 ] 
 (1d10+3)[ 13 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 11 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 4 ] 
 
Volthawk
When the creature's claws-that-are-not-claws sweep through Agares, he pauses in his movements as the visions enter his mind. There was more than what it was showing him here, though. For a moment...it made sense. All of it. For a moment, the memories of old and the visions he was seeing now...they lined up. They were here. They were definitely here. Answers. Truths. He must go on. He must go deeper. Soon, it would all be his for the taking. For the understanding.

The fight apparently forgotten, Agares turn and moves at some speed deeper down the tunnel.
DrK
 Krieger 

The soldier shakes his head angrily.  ”Mechanical fool”  being muttered at the tech priest scuttling down the corridor. Seeing weapons having little effect he looks at psyker -  “Try your warp cursed magics or we’d best get ready to flee from this xeno ghost.” 
 
 Spoiler: OOC 


Delay until after our astropath tries some fancy psychic stuff
 
The Glyphstone
Jay watches Agares hurry away down the tunnel, unconcerned - if the Magos detected something of greater value, it was to the Omnissiah's will that the rest of them deal with the spirit. To that end, though, it was clear that their weapons were not having much of an effect, and so Jay decides to apply a different strategy. Passing the effort of maintaining the telekinetic control of his gun to his familiar, he turns his will upon the monstrosity directly, pitting his mind against its corporeal strength to pin it in place.

 
 Spoiler 

Telekinetic Crush, at Unfettered Strength.
 (1d100)[ 46 ]  vs. 71+20=91. This is  Opposed  by the spirit's Toughness.
 (1d100)[ 75 ]  Contingent Fate Point if I bomb the FP test.
 (1d100)[ 40 ]  Phenomena Roll if required
 (1d10)[ 4 ]  Fate Point Recovery, if required

Success:  (1d10+10)[ 20 ]  Impact Damage, cannot be dodged, and applies Grappled condition.  +1 from RF, total 21.
 
Henry the 57th
Almost the moment that Agares has run straight through the towering wraith with no apparent ill effect, Jay reaches out with his mind. Bands of psychic force encircle their insubstantial attacker, strangling its essence like the draco-constrictors of old. The wretched thing visibly contracts under their touch, its smoky body making a brief and utterly futile attempt to push back as they close in, but to no avail. The next second the emaciated monster lets out a wailing shriek the echoes, painfully loud in the confined space, and then the entire thing seems to implode in on itself. One moment it is there, half-formed and swirling in the center of this hall, the next a handful of faintly glittering dust drifts gently to the floor and Jay finds his psychic bands now holding nothing.

Just as quickly as the whole thing began, the dark corridor around the explorers is once again all but silent. Save for the distant sound of mechanical boots driving the towering mutant deeper into the black abyss ahead, there are no more signs of activity ahead.

 
 Spoiler: All 
For the moment, combat is over. Add 50xp to your sheet.

Agares will continue down the corridor for a few seconds before regaining his slightly less sensible senses.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger looks at the psyker and offers a respectful nod. Beads of sweat on his brow at the nature of tye attack.  “lady captain, I’d stay close to Jay.”  He then jogs down the corridor some 20-30m bellowing  ”Agares, you mechanical fool. Get back here.” 
boj0
 "Masterfully done Jay, I dare say you may even become a shining beacon of capability among the expedition force." 
Captain Ravenholm sheaths her blade and stays near the psyker while motioning for the crew to continue onward.
Volthawk
Krieger's shouts seems to stir Agares from the state he was in, the techpriest stopping when the man draws near.    "Damnable spirits. Remnants of the apocalypse. Their claws, they speak to you. Show you the end. An end I have seen before. Do not let them catch you. Spare yourself from the visions."   He pauses, looking at the others before turning to look back up the tunnel.   "My will is mine again. Let's keep moving."  
The Glyphstone
The danger having passed, Jay's familiar pokes its head out of his backpack and chirps curiously, studying the empty space that once held an alien ghost before retreating into safety. Jay himself takes physical hold of his bolter again, giving his mind a momentary rest.

 "I am but a humble channel for the Omnissiah's will, My Lady. It is through me that His light shines forth to guide us in the darkness." 
Henry the 57th
With the gheist so handily dispatched, the bold explorers and their somewhat less bold help press forward into the depths of xenos maze. The sloped passage seems to, if anything, get more steeply angled the deeper it delves into the earth. By the time the last of the sunlight has completely died away behind them, the floor beneath their feet is at such a hard angle that if one lost one's footing they would simply go rolling off down the corridor for God-Emperor knows how long. It takes around a minute of walking in the oppressive dark, surrounded on all sides by ever-tightening walls of rune-etched stone, before things at last begin to level out once more. Exact distances in such a place are rather hard to measure, but it wouldn't be far fetched to assume that the pathway descended at least a few hundred meters beneath the planet's surface.

Down in the abyssal dark, far from help and guided only by what lights they are able to carry with them, the explorers find the tunnel in front of them at last widening out. It isn't too much longer before they come to a wide, circular chamber devoid of the maze's usual angles, save only for the distant vaguely-visible silhouettes of four portals at what appear to be each of the cardinal directions. As they step out of the southernmost entrance to the chamber, they notice that as usual the smooth, gently-curving walls around them are covered by yet more of the runic scripts. More importantly though, approximately ten meters or so from the walls the stone floor abruptly gives way to a sloping, sand filled pit that swallows up the center of the pitch-black room. Starting half a meter or so below the floor level and sliding smoothly down into ever-deeper shadow from there, the desert pit might be wholly uninteresting were it not for the faint and thoroughly uncharacteristic clicking coming from what their lights register as a hint of silver poking out of the yellow-brown sand at the very epicenter of this bizarre architecture.. In complete contrast to everything else they have seen in this place so far, whatever is half-buried down there looks to be made of metal and sounds distinctly mechanical in nature.
DrK
 Krieger 

Kieger pauses and then hugs the wall, keeping his back brushing the wall as he steps a few metres to the left of the doorway, careful to mark which door they had entered from. he nods to the guards,  "Cover the right lank, holler if you see anything, pray if its xeno and mean looking" . Then he shines his glow lamp down into the centre of the room and looks back to Agares.  "Adeptus, it appears to be a machine, any idea what it may be?"  he asks respectfully.

 OOC
Awareness  (1d100)[ 95 ]  TN 50
 
The Glyphstone
Now suspicious of their surroundings, Jay takes a moment to properly prepare himself with a protective cocoon of telekinetic energies and his bolter hovering obediently at his side. With that done, he again taps the Immaterium for a brief bit of insight before studying the room carefully. At the same time, Mechastopheles emerges and flies up to inspect the ceiling and walls, sharing what he sees with Jay.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Telekinetic Weapon, Fettered. If it fails I'll recast until success.  (1d100)[ 81 ]  vs. 86, sustained via Familiar.
Telekinetic Shield, Unfettered.  (1d100)[ 96 ]  vs. 96. AP5 to all locations, Sustained via Familiar.

Foreshadow, Unfettered.  (1d100)[ 80 ]  vs. 96, adding the bonus to my Awareness check.

Awareness"  (1d100)[ 68 ]  vs. 71, +10 Familiar teamwork, +25 Foreshadow, net 106. +1 DoS.
 


So that's only a net of 4 DoS on the Awareness.
Volthawk
Agares had already had the mystery capture his attention, releasing one of his servo-skulls to get a close-up image of it as he walks towards the pit, looking at the thing through his photo-visor. Once he reaches the edge, he pauses and crouches down, probing the sand with his manipulator mechadendrite, extending it to see if he can judge how deep the sand is and if there's anything immediately underneath, caling back to the others.   "I do not trust this pit, or the sand within. We should be careful if we are to investigate the machine..."   He pauses.   "And one lighter than I should go down there first."  
 
 Spoiler 

The manipulator extends out to 1.5m, for reference. I'm assuming that the pit itself is too wide for that to reach the middle, right?

Tech-Use and Forbidden Lore (Xenos) to see if Agares can figure out anything (function, origins, etc) from what we can already see/hear and what the servoskull records. Probably not much, but worth a shot.
Tech-Use 90 (Insanity 60 + 20 training + 10 equipment):  (1d100)[ 1 ] 
Forbidden Lore (Xenos) 80 (Insanity 60 + 20 training):  (1d100)[ 90 ] 

Awareness for if Agares can notice anything unusual from the edge of the pit, TN 44:  (1d100)[ 34 ] 
 
boj0
The Captain keeps a sharp eye on the explorers, barking quick shouts to the armsmen to follow Krieger's commands; however the pit is of far greater interest to her.

 
 Spoiler: Skills 
Seeing if Ravenholm notices anything about the object in the pit.
Awareness vs 35  (1d100)[ 77 ] 
Forbidden Lore (Xenos) vs 51  (1d100)[ 81 ] 
 
Henry the 57th
 "Aye sir,"  one of the Hyzian infantry nods at Krieger's orders, with the two of them splitting off in either direction. Their footsteps echo easily, almost uncomfortably, despite the vastness of the chamber, and they hug the firm stone wall very tightly as they move. One man shines the light affixed to his lasgun down the eastern entrance and one down the west, leaving only the northern passageway on the far side of the room uncovered. Nothing immediately springs out to eat them.

 
 Spoiler: Krieger 
This room is so dark you can barely see anything, even with the small, dim lights your party carries. You can discern nothing about whatever it is that lies in the center of the pit.
 

 
 Spoiler: Jay 
Looking down into the pit, you are able to determine that thing mostly buried in the center of the sandy pit shows bits of both yellowing bone and somewhat tarnished silvery metal, and the grit around it is lumpy, distorted, and irregular in ways that aren't in keeping with the general shape of a human skull.

What you also notice on repeated sweeps over the depths of the pit are a handful of irregular indents in the desert grit, starting not far from the westward entrance, appearing sporadically on the descending slope, and terminating a few meters from the center. Looking closer, you and your familiar can detect some reversals in angle, suggesting the unknown print maker was able to both ascend and descend the slopes, and also that the sands surrounding the presumed trail have been rather artfully swept over and around it. It is also worth noting that the only member of your expedition with feet even nearly large enough to make such long and wide tracks would be Agares.

The unsettling things suggest that someone or something with a boot size comparable to that of the mutant techpriest has been this way (though in the absence of weather to wear at the prints it's hard to hazard a guess how long ago) and rather hastily attempted to conceal that fact from any future explorers.
 

 
 Spoiler: Agares 
Yes, the pit is around 30m in diameter and maybe half of that in depth. There's no way that the probe will get anywhere close to the center from the edge.

From the combination of your own mechanically-enhanced sight and the servo-skull, you are able to determine that thing mostly buried in the center of the sandy pit shows bits of both yellowing bone and somewhat tarnished silvery metal, and the grit around it is lumpy, distorted, and irregular in ways that aren't in keeping with the general shape of a human skull.

With this data in mind, you would hazard a guess that what is down there is some kind of relative of the servo-skull, and has some possibly faulty mechanism inside that is making that noise. You would hypothesize that it hasn't been down here for too terribly long. This is, needless to say, totally out of character for the long-extinct xenos builders of this labyrinth and you doubt that it belonged to them. Maybe it's somehow related to that odd bluish-green sphere of similar unknown origins?
 

 
 Spoiler: Captain Ravenholm 
This room is so dark you can barely see anything, even with the small, dim lights your party carries. You can discern nothing about whatever it is that lies in the center of the pit.
 
boj0
" Blast it all, darker than the void of space in here; can someone tell me what it is we are dealing with? " The Captain's tone comes across more as concern than annoyance.
The Glyphstone
 "There is something buried in the center of this pit. It feels like bone fused to metal, but it does not resonate as a human skull would. We are also not the first to come here - there are traces of a previous visitor, one comparable in size to the Magos, who attempted to conceal the tracks they left behind." 
Volthawk
Agares nods in response to Jay's answer, standing from his crouch and holding out his massive hand for the servo-skull to return to.   "It is from those who came before us, yes. Much like the artefact that was found outside, and a machine much like this one in my hand."   He nods.   "The xenos whose footsteps we follow were wise in some ways. They also knew the strength of flesh and machine combined, the danger of the machine alone when not reined in by the flesh. But their creation...it is damaged. You hear it too, yes? The clicking...like damaged clockwork. If we retrieve it, examine it, take its secrets, yes...perhaps it may know things we do not."   Jay's report of those that came before being his size makes him confident enough to try heading down into the pit, albeit with his manipulator tethering him to the side, just in case the sand gives way. If it seems safe by the time he reaches the end of the tether, he'll keep walking towards the center, wanting a closer look at it, although he waits for the Captain's word before trying to pull it out.
Henry the 57th
As he carefully makes his way down the side of the sandy pit, Agares finds that his immense boots do indeed sink into yellow-white mineral grit, but only about two or three inches on average. The angle as he goes is steep but manageable, though the way that the sand shifts under his immense weight would make clambering out in a hurry a bit of a challenge. Still, he makes it to the epicenter with only a little bit of fuss and without anything giving way beneath him or rising up to swallow him. The surrounding room likewise remains dark and silent, apparently unperturbed by this further intrusion. Staring down at the strange clicking object from up close without attempting to dig it out, the techpriest finds that he simply sees what he already saw: bits of metal and bone protruding from a lumpy spot in the sand. The only significant development from his point of view is that from up close the shape of it seems to suggest the skull once belonged to a creature with curling, albeit irregular ram horns.
boj0
" Agares, did you find something? Please do be careful bringing it out of that pit. " The crew can practically feel the Lady Captain's excitement for potential artefacts.
DrK
 Krieger 

As the mechanised creature heads into the pit Krieger advances to the edge and shines the glow lamp down to help the mechanicus.  "What do you see? Something valuable I hope?"  Even as he speaks he sweeps the gun around the walls and doors just in case something leaps out at them.
Volthawk
Agares nods to himself as he inspects what he can see of the skull. His suspicions were right on what it was. Good. Horned, too. Interesting. It was good to see the face of those that came before, in death if not in life. Perhaps its mechanical mind would have secrets for him, yes. But first, it needed to be freed.

He doesn't reply to the others, instead latching his largest mechadendrite around part of the protuding skull, bending to get a grip on the rest of it, and pulling.

 
 Spoiler 

Not sure if trying to pull the thing out would be at a penalty to represent size or need a certain number of DoS or just a flat no or whatever, so I'm just going to roll Strength and see what the GM says since Agares is going to try regardless of his chances of success.

Strength, TN 110 (Strength 90 + 20 Manipulator Mechadendrite):  (1d100)[ 93 ] 
 
Henry the 57th
Down in the epicenter of the pit, Agares' powerful mechandendrite reaches down, clamps around a promising-looking horn, and gives a rather half-hearted sort of tug at it. Fortunately for him, the surrounding sand is soft and the object is not buried especially deep. It comes free with barely any protest, streams of grit trickling down its sides.

Now exposed to the techpriest's harsh mechanical light, the object in question indeed turns out to be a servo-skull variant of some kind. The skull itself bares unmistakable hallmarks of irregular mutation, ranging from its somewhat elongated and bumpy texture to the pair of curling horns emerging from just behind the temples on either side, but the shape of the facial bones suggests that this pitiably unclean creature might once have been human, or at least derived from such stock. An artificial red lens bearing clear similarities to Imperial technology stares blankly out of the left eye socket, surrounded by oily cybernetics the color of worn iron. Agares could swear he spies a brief flash in the dull artificial eye before the odd clicking sound emanating from the device abruptly ceases.

 "Encroachers,"  speakers at the base of the horned skull suddenly blare in flawless Low Gothic, the voice deep and distinctly masculine, with barely a hint of the usual mechanical buzz to it. The sound is loud and clear for everyone in the room to hear.  "Dogs of Ravenholm. You have trespassed on a domain beyond hope and beyond help. We know you are here. You cannot get out.  They  know you are here. You cannot get out." 

Then, without any further preamble or warning, the sand-covered bone abruptly detonates right where it hangs, hurling fire and razor-sharp fragments of superheated metal in all directions. Most bury themselves harmlessly in the surrounding pit, but Agares himself gets a full spray of them right into his augmented face.

Even while the echoes of the deafening bang are still ringing in the explorers' collective ears, more sounds begin emerging from the four tunnels leading north, east, and west. Howling, yapping noises reverberate down the darkened corridors in all three directions, paired with the fast-paced sounds of something hard and sharp scraping against stone.

 
 Spoiler: Agares 
The skull explodes in your mechandendrite with the force of a live grenade, dealing  (2d10)[ 12 ] X damage, Pen 0. It has a blast radius but since nobody else is anywhere close enough to get hit it's quite irrelevant.
 

 
 Spoiler: Everyone 
Roll initiative. You have three rounds worth of actions to do whatever you want before whatever is coming your way arrives.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger ducks instinctively as the blast sails past before spinning around, melta heating up with a loud whining noise. Seeing the Lord Captain he darts to their side covering the left hand side and bellowing  “Cover-the rear and right”  to the two (no doubt terrified) soldiers.
Volthawk
Agares growls to himself as the skull explodes, the bone shards not seeming to phase him much, before looking around and listening the sounds. The skull's words would be considered later, perhaps, but for now the scraping sound...if his organic mouth hadn't been replaced with better breathing apparatus, he'd smile. That was the sound of flesh and bone on stone. Not the insubstantial ghost they had found before, but something that truly existed. That could be cut. He keeps walking forward, towards the northernmost entrance, apparently intending to face the foes coming that way head-on.

 
 Spoiler 

Luckily, 12 damage is just enough for AP+TB to soak (and lucky it doesn't require any rolling, going off how many failed skill rolls I've had so far).
 
The Glyphstone
Jay moves to where he is between the Captain and the right-most entrance, his storm bolter hovering ready. Ignoring the chaos and tumult of the room around him, he focuses on the drifting strands of fate that bind them together, watching for the moment when they grow taunt with impending peril.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

Wait two rounds, then manifest In Harm's Way at Unfettered Strength.
 (1d100)[ 94 ]  vs 96, for +20 on my next turn's BS roll.
 
boj0
" Steel yourselves! We have not come this far for the voices of failures and fools to deter us! " Her sword already drawn, she raises it high to rally the explorers.

 
 Spoiler: initiative 
 (1d10+4)[ 9 ] 
 
Henry the 57th
The frantic unearthly yowling only grows more and more powerful by the second, echoing down the tight corridors so painfully loud that the explorers can feel the ringing in their ears. Fortunately, if that is the correct word to describe it, they don't have to endure it for long. Those peering down the tunnels are first blasted by an unearthly warm wind carrying the stench of dried carrion, followed almost immediately by the sight of hunched, barely humanoid figures lunging forth from the darkness. Loping unnaturally on all four limbs, at least a dozen of them are converging on the small oubliette room from three sides.

 
 Spoiler: All 
Four dark figures appear around 15m down the hallways to the north, east, and west, with one guardman each covering the latter and continue to run until they're approximately 5m from each yawning portal. There are approximately 10m of distance between each cardinal direction door, and the stone walkway around the sand pit is approximately 3m from the wall to the edge of the pit.

Captain Ravenholm, you're up. Don't forget to specify which entrance, if any, your character's actions are aimed towards.
 
boj0
Power sword held at the ready, Lisette braces herself, ready to fight and die for the Emperor and glorious profit.

Full Action: Defensive Stance facing to the north entrance.
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger spins glancing at the Lady-Captain then drops to a knee aiming carefully at the nearest monstrous xeno.  “Feel the burn xeno filth.”  he snarls. A bellowing  “Open fire men, fire as if your life depends on it.” 
 OOC

Aim
Fire  (1d100)[ 80 ]  TN 61 dam  (4d10)[ 6 ][ 5 ][ 1 ][ 6 ](18) +5 PEN 8
 
Henry the 57th
 "It damn well does!"  one of the guardsmen shouts back at Krieger, as both of the men at either end of the room open up on the incoming wave of intruders as best they can. Lasguns flare with rapid flashes of ruby red light, casting an ominous glow across the darkened chamber.

While one man's arms are shaking too badly and his shots go wide, the Ravenholm trooper to the east proves a more accurate shot. Two well-placed lasbolts strike home onto the foremost of the four loping tunnel monsters, eliciting an unearthly shriek as it tumbles face-first onto the smooth stone floor. Its companions do not seem deterred in the slightest, racing straight past the twitching gaggle of limbs with no hesistation.

 
 Spoiler: Guardsmen 
Semo-auto burst against the nearest figures:
East guardsman:  (1d100)[ 11 ]  vs. 45

West guardsmen:  (1d100)[ 89 ]  vs. 45

If hit:
East:  (1d10+3)[ 11 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 12 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 9 ]  E damage, Pen 0.

West:  (1d10+3)[ 5 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 10 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 12 ]  E damage, Pen 0.

And any figure hit will attempt to dodge as necessary:  (1d100)[ 90 ]  vs. 45 east,  (1d100)[ 89 ]  vs 45. west
 
The Glyphstone
Jay does not see the approaching monsters so much as feel them, discordant entities forming ripples in probability as they move. A cloud of maybes surrounds them, each formless figment a potential path not yet taken. As they burst into the room and begin charging towards the gathered explorers, he raises his hands as if conducting an invisible orchestra. The levitating storm bolter before him answers, pivoting in place before unleashing a hail of explosive shells into the oncoming horde - aimed not at where they are, but where they will be.

 
 Spoiler: ooc 


Full Auto Burst, via Precision TK.
Base Willpower of 71, +20 Full Auto, +20 In Harms Way, TN 111.    (1d100)[ 38 ] 

Allocating 2 hits to each beast if possible, up to my maximum of 8.

Damage:  (1d10+5)[ 11 ]  or  (1d10+5)[ 12 ] , Pen 4 Explosive.
 
Volthawk
Agares pauses for a moment in his approach towards the north tunnel, assessing the creatures for a moment, his implants working away to analyse the situation, before surging into violence, running towards the closest one and striking with his power fist. It really  did  feel good to have a foe of flesh and blood this time.

 
 Spoiler 

Spending Agares' reaction to try to activate his Logis Implant - on a successful Tech-Use test, he gets +10 WS for this round and the next one. He also needs to make a Toughness test or take a level of fatigue.
Tech-Use, TN 90:  (1d100)[ 83 ] 
Toughness, TN 80:  (1d100)[ 55 ] 
If both fail, attack below has -10 TN. If one passes and the other fails, no change (for now). If both succeed, attack below has +10 TN.

Full action charge into the closest one among the northern group, attacking with the power fist.
Attack, TN 64 +/- Logis results (WS 49 + 5 Craftsmanship + 10 Charge):  (1d100)[ 43 ] 
Damage:  (1d10+18)[ 27 ]  E, Pen 7, Power Field
 
Henry the 57th
The confined space echoes with the deafening roar of bolter fire, as the psyker unleashes the combined fury of his unnatural power and the blessings of the Omnissiah. Explosive rounds go scything down the eastern tunnel, fleeting glimpses of warped, withered visages momentarily made visible the muzzle's flash. The onrushing monsters have unnatural blessings of their own however - two are able to avoid the spray of high velocity explosive rounds altogether, hurling themselves simultaneously aside and forwards with some combination of twitching reflexes and preternatural foresight. Two of the others take a single hit apiece, the blessed shells burying themselves deep into shriveled grey flesh before detonating, spraying the surrounding corridor with dust and bits of grey-black meat. A wafting stench of rancid decay hits the explorers like a thunderclap. In spite of the gaping, horrific wounds the holy machine inflicts, neither slows down at all loping forward and all but throwing themselves atop the nearest victims - in the case of those to the east and west, House Ravenholm's hapless guardsmen.

Meanwhile, Agares boldly positions himself right in the path of the northmost creatures, swinging his enormous power fist with the strength worthy of one of the Emperor's Angels. The sacred machine comes down upon the leading monster with the force of a thunderbolt, searing away shriveled skin and putrid flesh, and snapping brittle bones like so many dry twigs. The hideous thing doesn't even get a chance to shriek before it is reduced to a gory, reeking spray of viscera across the tunnel floor. If this has any deterring effect on the other three they certainly do not show it, as all of them leap over and through the remains of their fellow without pausing. Long, boney finger and claws - some reduced to actual bone - scrabble and grasp at the giant mutant's armor with all the desperate, maddened strength of drowning men.

And yet, for all its frenzied intensity, the physical assault against his person may be the least of the tech-priest's problems. Even as clawed hands rake across his powerful armored shell, his photorecptors can just make out some kind of pale, thin mist leaking from the scattered remains of his victim, pooling at the base of the tunnel in a shapeless, flickering mass. Then, a heartbeat later, the silvery substance rears up and strikes, washing over his body as if a tidal wave.


 
 Spoiler 
 To begin with, all the surviving corporeal monsters will attempt to pull down and tear apart those standing immediately before them.

To the north vs. Agares:  (1d100)[ 19 ]  vs. 35.
 (1d100)[ 72 ]  vs. 35.
 (1d100)[ 70 ]  vs. 35.

Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 4 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 12 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 8 ] , Pen 0.

To the east vs. Guardsman:  (1d100)[ 99 ]  vs. 35.
 (1d100)[ 94 ]  vs. 35.
 (1d100)[ 49 ]  vs. 35.

Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 8 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 5 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 10 ] , Pen 0.


To the west vs. Guardsman:  (1d100)[ 69 ]  vs. 35.
 (1d100)[ 34 ]  vs. 35.
 (1d100)[ 6 ]  vs. 35.
 (1d100)[ 64 ]  vs. 35.

Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 5 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 11 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 7 ] , Pen 0.


Guardsmen will, naturally, attempt to dodge at least some of this. East dodge:  (1d100)[ 31 ]  vs. 30.
West dodge:  (1d100)[ 56 ]  vs. 30.

Now comes the fun bit. For each loping monster whose flesh was cut down, those foolish enough to strike at the guardians of this place will suffer their curse. Each slain monster will make a single possession attack against its killer. If hit, the explorer will take no damage, but will either succeed at a -10 WP save or else take 1d3 points of insanity and be compelled to turn their weapons against their living comrades for 1d3 rounds, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of unnatural hunger for flesh and life.

Possession vs. East Guardsman:  (1d100)[ 22 ]  vs. 35.
If hit,  (1d3)[ 2 ]  insanity and  (1d3)[ 3 ]  rounds of attacking his allies.

Possession vs. Agares:  (1d100)[ 18 ]  vs. 35.
If hit,  (1d3)[ 2 ]  insanity and  (1d3)[ 1 ]  rounds of attacking his allies.
 
Henry the 57th
 "Cut them down!"  Captain Ravenholm's voice, unwavering in the face of these strange monsters and as yet unaware of what the thin whisps of mist portend, echoes throughout the confined space. Fearlessly, she charges the three creatures swarming about Agares, stepping through the black pulp that had been the fourth of their number. Unfortunately, the creature proves to be supernaturally quick, a last minute twitch seeing the proud saber passing just beside its cheek.

 
 Spoiler 
 Captain Ravenholm makes a Charge attack against one of the monster on the north entrance, swinging her power sword right for the greyish thing's misshapen head:  (1d100)[ 26 ]  vs 60.
If hit:  (1d10+9)[ 10 ]  E damaged, Pen 5.

The creature will attempt to dodge:  (1d100)[ 37 ]  vs 45.

Krieger is up next.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

With the beasts too close to his allies and the Lady Captain to engage with the massive blasts of liquid fire the bounty hunter mutters a curse about fools rushing in. Following that up he lets the still smoking multi-melta slip to its harness straps and pulls out one of the chased silver handled bolt pistols from his waist and levels it at one of the beast's attacking the captain and lets fly with a triple tap of deadly bolt rounds


 OOC

Free: Quick draw a bolt pistols
Full: Semi-auto a beast trying to eat the captain
 (1d100)[ 94 ]  TN 51+10 SemiAuto = 61
61:  (1d10)[ 6 ]  Or  (1d10)[ 9 ]  +5 PEN 4
41:  (1d10)[ 1 ]  Or  (1d10)[ 10 ]  +5 PEN 4
21:  (1d10)[ 1 ]  Or  (1d10)[ 4 ]  +5 PEN 4

Dodge if needed  (1d100)[ 29 ]  TN 70
 
Henry the 57th
The two soldiers of House Ravenholm, stationed on either end of the sandy chamber, could not be reacting differently to the onslaught. The man to the east, fresh off gunning down one of their attackers, abruptly goes stiff. His head rolls back momentarily, and a shudder wracks his body. Just as abruptly he snaps right back into life, eyes wandering to the well-dressed Rogue Trader with her back to him. Utterly disregarding the three beasts still swarming about him, the man raises his rifle and, with an inhuman gurgling shriek, clamps his finger down on the trigger, spraying a wild burst ruby red lasfire directly for the captain's back.

Meanwhile, opposite him, the other guardsman ducks nimbly beneath the swing of a monster's arm, rolling backwards out of their collective reach in a surprisingly smooth motion. Before he's even back on his feet his fingers are hurriedly jamming the bayonet on his belt onto the end of his lasgun.

 "Shoot them,"  the soldier cries, rising panic noticable in his voice,  "Frakking shoot them!" 
 
 Spoiler 
East Guardsman will ignore the creatures tearing at his flesh to open up on Captain Ravenholm with a Semi Auto Burst:  (1d100)[ 48 ]  vs. 45
Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 9 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 4 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 10 ]  E Damage, Pen 0.

Captain Ravenholm will dodge if necessary:  (1d100)[ 44 ]  vs. 62.

West Guardsman will Disengage and fall back 3m from the onrushing monsters, fixing the bayonet to his lasgun as he moves.
 
The Glyphstone
As the malign influence of the spectral beast seeps into his mind, a red haze fills Jay's mind in the absence of his ruined vision. The thundering rumble of fresh, warm blood in the horrid living things so close to him is intoxicating, and the gun suspended in the air by his will starts to spin.

But there is something else, something squawking angrily as it flutters around his head and buffets him with its wings. The prey is forgotten and the telekinetic weapon collapses to the floor as he turns on the annoyance - alive but not, a maddening fusion of delicious meat and disgusting metal. He snarls and snaps, grabbing futilely at the thing with one frail hand while trying to fend off the irritating nicks of its claws with the other.

 
 Spoiler 

Taking a defensive stance and trying to grapple Mechastopheles, who can tell something is wrong and is trying to distract him.
 (1d100)[ 90 ]  vs 17, I think.
 
Volthawk
Agares doesn't pay any attention to how the battles at the other tunnels is faring - although to anyone looking in his direction, it's unclear whether that focus is down to mechanical logic, trust in his allies or simply being lost in the brawl. Nor does the strange mist or the claws of his attackers phase him, the former finding little purchase in his already-disturbed mind and the latter clattering agaisnt the carapace under his robes to little effect. Instead, he simply focuses on the violence of the moment, his implants still assisting him with where to swing to get the best chance of landing a solid hit on the slippery creatures in front of him.

 
 Spoiler 

Full action All-Out Attack and a Reaction attack with the mechadendrite axe (at the same target if it survived the first attack, or another of the three if it didn't).

AoA Attack, TN 84 (WS 49 + 5 Craftsmanship + 10 Logis Implant + 20 All-Out Attack):  (1d100)[ 51 ] 
Damage:  (2d10+18)[ 8 ][ 6 ](14)  E, Pen 7, Power Field

Reaction Attack, TN 64 (WS 49 + 5 Craftsmanship + 10 Logis Implant):  (1d100)[ 15 ] 
Damage:  (1d10+16)[ 24 ]  E, Pen 7, Power Field
 
Henry the 57th
Agares lashes out with his mighty power fist, single-mindedly bent on reducing the remainder of hunched, loping beasts to the same bloody pulp that now stains the stones around him, but in vain. The jerking, loping abominations prove far more nimble than their wizened forms suggest, and his powerful blows strike nothing but empty air and smooth xenos stonework. A spray of razor-sharp stone chips patters harmlessly off his armor, with several embedding themselves into the flesh of the hateful things to no noticeable effect.

As to the beasts themselves, they seem to possess at least a predator's low cunning. With the armored giant upon them seemingly all but oblivious to the talons and claws of their rail-thin arms, the three remaining northernmost monsters rapidly turn instead to the valiant Rogue Trader who threw herself into the fight, prying madly at her armored form in search of the succulent flesh inside.

To the chamber's east, the foul creatures are seemingly oblivious to the fact that the Explorer's accompanying soldier has betrayed them, or perhaps simply ravenous beyond the point of caring. Either way, they continue to swarm about the treasonous mercenary, their sharpened claws gouging deep rents into his flak armor, slicing through sections of grey tunic, and drawing blood.

The man's counterpart to the west is considerably less lucky. No sooner has he managed to affix his bayonet to his rifle than all four of the abominations pouring out of the tunnel on his side are upon him. A great shrieking, clawing host surrounds him like a pack of rabid sump-canids. All but bowled over by the sheer force of their charge, arms born down by the weight of shriveled flesh, the hapless man has just enough time to let out a final bloodcurdling scream before the wailing beasts rip open his abdomen. The room's darkness is perhaps a mercy in that moment - the wet squelching sounds of intestines being torn free are horrible enough on their own.

 
 Spoiler: ??? 
Gribblies to the north with try their luck hitting the Captain this time:  (1d100)[ 19 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 42 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 13 ]  vs. 35

Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 11 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 11 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 7 ] , Pen 0.

Meanwhile, they don't seem to notice (or care) that the East Guardsman is currently fighting alongside them, continuing to attempt to rend his flesh with cheerful abandon:  (1d100)[ 26 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 11 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 74 ]  vs. 35

Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 6 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 9 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 13 ] , Pen 0.

And of course the West Guardsman is looking a little worse for wear after last round, so they'll keep trying to bring him down:  (1d100)[ 20 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 17 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 33 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 13 ]  vs. 35

Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 4 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 9 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 6 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 6 ] , Pen 0.

West Guardsman is the only one with the presence of mind to try dodging:  (1d100)[ 96 ]  vs. 30.
 


Though she staggers momentarily under the sheer ferocity of the sudden assault, it ultimately does little more than scratch the paint of her immaculate artificer plate. Even as the frantic horde claws at her, the bold scion of House Ravenholm does not falter. Instead, she lashes right back out at the nearest beast, her sword's power field crackling dangerously as she swings straight for its head.

Her aim proves truer than that of her mutated subordinate, the fine curved saber blade splitting the skull of the lead abomination all but in two, leaving its reeking corpse to flop limply to the stone at her feet. An absolutely putrid stench fills the area as semi-gelatinous black goo leaks from the sundered skull where a brain ought to have been. Not that the Rogue Trader herself seems in any position to notice - a thin trail of mist snakes up from the remains to wind its way around her armored form, and her eyes snap up at the mutant techpriest with a sudden, ravenous intensity.

 
 Spoiler: Captain Ravenholm 
She dodges as necessary:  (1d100)[ 43 ]  vs. 62.

She will Aim as a half and then make a Standard Attack:  (1d100)[ 15 ]  vs. 60.
If hit:  (1d10+9)[ 19 ]  E damage, Pen 5.

Creature will attempt to dodge:  (1d100)[ 59 ]  vs. 45.
Possession attack if needed:  (1d100)[ 19 ]  vs. 35.
If hit, -10 WP or  (1d3)[ 2 ]  Insanity and  (1d3)[ 1 ]  rounds of attacking allies.
WP test if needed:  (1d100)[ 91 ]  vs. 31.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger looks out at the dead guardsman being devoured, a muttered  “Damn”  all he has to say as he drops the bolt pistol and scoops the melta again releasing a great gout of molten fire at the four savaging the downed man seeking to catch as many as possible in the blast of fusion fire

 
 Spoiler: OOC 


Grab up the Multi melta
Fire at the four to catch as many as possible in the blast (1)
 (1d100)[ 87 ]  TN 51 dam  (4d10)[ 9 ][ 6 ][ 1 ][ 9 ](25) +5 PEN 8
If needed for RF  (3d10)[ 3 ][ 10 ][ 9 ](22)  as needed
 
Henry the 57th
In spite of the the gruesome fate of his comrade just across the chamber, in spite of the trio of monsters continuing to tear at his increasingly battered body, the look of feral hunger in the surviving soldier's eyes does not fade. If anything, it intensifies. He jerks his rifle to the side, finger on the trigger, and releases a spray of lasfire against the largest and most obvious target to hand - the hulking mutant.

 
 Spoiler 
East Guardsman will continue to not care about the fact that he is on the verge of suffering the same fate as his fellow, and target Agares with a Semi-Auto Burst:  (1d100)[ 43 ]  vs. 45.

Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 4 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 9 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 7 ]  E Damage, Pen 0.
 
Volthawk
The lasfire from across the room gets no reaction from Agares, the techpriest instead turning to find where his prey had gone, and noting the status of the Lord-Captain. A concern, but not a problem. He can endure her rage as well if need be - the priority was wiping out the last of the creatures from this tunnel.

 
 Spoiler 

All-Out Attack one of the remaining pair with a power fist, then reaction attack the other with the mechadendrite axe.
Attack, TN 74 (WS 49 + 5 Craftsmanship + 20 AoO):  (1d100)[ 61 ] 
Damage:  (2d10)[ 4 ][ 10 ](14) +18 E, Pen 7, Power Field

Attack, TN 54 (WS 49 + 5 Craftsmanship):  (1d100)[ 44 ] 
Damage:  (1d10)[ 2 ](2) +16 E, Pen 7, Power Field
 
The Glyphstone
Jay continues to flail away at the fluttering annoyance trying to claw his scalp into ribbons.

 
 Spoiler 

Guarded grapple attempt on Mechastopheles:  (1d100)[ 43 ]  vs 17.[/roll]
 
Henry the 57th
Though Agares' weapons are powerful enough to reduce his attackers to so much mushy pulp, they're also quite heavy even for the hugely muscled mutant. The hunched creatures, unarmored and appearing to be all but naked in dim flashes of light that sporadically flicker across the chamber, are far more nimble than he is, and manage to avoid both his strikes with their characteristic twitching, jerky movements. The techpriest at least succeeds in arresting their attention once again, and both surviving monsters fling themselves at his armored form.

Further south, the three surviving monsters flocking around the traitorous mercenary soldier continue their efforts to pull him down and feast on his entrails, heedless of the fact that this particular fleshsack is on their side. Mostly they just claw rather ineffectually at his armor, but a single strike manages to drive boney finger talon deep into flesh, drawing noticeable quantities of blood. It's not hard to imagine that one more good hit like that will be sufficient to pull him down to share his comrade's fate. Their counterparts across the vast sand pit, however, appear to be at least momentarily preoccupied with stuffing bloody chunks of the dead man's muscle and organs down their gaping maws, and seem totally uninterested in the fighting still going on around them. They remain right where they are.

 
 Spoiler: ??? 
The two survivors to the north attempt to attack Agares once again: [roll]1d100/roll]  59  vs. 35
[roll]1d100/roll]  86  vs. 35

Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 4 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 7 ] , Pen 0.

The creatures to the east will continue to attempt to attack the possessed guardsmen:
[roll]1d100/roll]  78  vs. 35
[roll]1d100/roll]  22  vs. 35
[roll]1d100/roll]  47  vs. 35

Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 9 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 10 ] , Pen 0.
 (1d10+3)[ 12 ] , Pen 0.

The creatures to the west are busy with their nice meal of fresh guardsman and do not act.
 


A ravenous, feral look in her eye, the dynast of House Ravenholm leaps directly into the melee, ignoring the bestial creatures hunched at her feet and hacking madly at her own gigantic comrade.

 
 Spoiler: Captain Ravenholm 
All Out Attack vs. Agares:  (1d100)[ 17 ]  vs. 70
Damage:  (1d10+9)[ 10 ]  E damage, Pen 5.
Cannot Dodge or Parry until the start of her next turn.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger drops to a knee aiming down the barrel of the massive fusion weapon and lets fly at the pack of beasts eating the dead guardsman seeking to catch them in a blast of fusion fire

 
 Spoiler: OOC 


Aim
Fire at pack of 3 near dead guard
 (1d100)[ 32 ]  TN 61
Dam  (4d10)[ 8 ][ 1 ][ 2 ][ 6 ](17) +5 Pen 8
(RF if needed  (4d10)[ 2 ][ 9 ][ 7 ][ 10 ](28) 

Dodge if needed  (1d100)[ 83 ]  TN 70
 
Henry the 57th
The quartet of beasts, too occupied with their gory prize to pay much attention to what is going on around them, are caught completely flatfooted by Krieger's sudden burst of melta fire. The blazing wrath of the Omnissiah sears away the weakness of flesh, whether ancient and withered or steaming and crimson. If their former ally had been unlucky enough to survive the experience thus far, this blast surely sees the end of that. All that is left after the blinding flesh are five charred lumps of carbon half-fused to the stone floor and a tide of writhing mist washing over Krieger.

 
 Spoiler: Possession Attacks 
 (1d100)[ 95 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 80 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 58 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 62 ]  vs. 35

If hit, succeed in a -10 WP test per hit or else take  (1d3)[ 1 ]  Insanity per hit and attack your allies for  (1d3)[ 1 ]  rounds. Note that insanity points from multiple hits stack on a per hit basis but rounds attacking do not as the spirits cannot long sustain such powers even as a flailing mass.
 


Opposite the grotesque mound of blackened, melted flesh, the surviving guardsman seems on the brink of joining his comrade. Sweat pours down his flushed face, blood stains the torn grey uniform on his abdomen an unpleasant shade of reddish black. His breathing comes in short, hard bursts, forced more due to sheer physiological instinct than any conscious effort of whatever force now commands him. His jaw hangs languidly from a face rapidly losing its color, and yet with a final surge of malevolent intent he manages to bring his rifle around for a final spray of ruby red lasfire aimed for the Captain's back. Twin lasbolts strike the dynastic scion of House Ravenholm square in the back, eliciting a a snarled yelp of pain from whatever it is that now drives her body. For his own part, the soldier then staggers once, looks up, and appears to have regained enough sanity to recognize his peril for what it is. Or at least that's what the Explorers can surmise from the sudden burst of panicked screaming.

 
 Spoiler: Guardsman 
One final Semi-Auto Burst vs Captain Ravenholm before the possession ends:  (1d100)[ 11 ]  vs 45

Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 7 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 7 ] ,  (1d10+3)[ 6 ]  E Damage, Pen 0.
 
The Glyphstone
The mists of madness filling Jay's sightless vision are suddenly dispelled,, burnt clean from his mind by a devouring wave of golden light. It burns like fire in his mind, but his will is his own once again. With a relieved chirp, Mechastopheles buries itself in the safety of his backpack while Jay turns on the feral beasts closest to the captain. With the will and might of the Omnissiah behind him, he would see how well the creatures enjoyed the taste of their own.

 
 Spoiler 

Target one of the two in the north with a Compel to attack its pack-mate.
FP vs 96, at PR5.  (1d100)[ 43 ] 
 
Volthawk
While the creatures themselves still have little ability to penetrate Agares' armour to any meaningful degree, the captain...the raven was well armed, after all. No matter. This too would pass, once these vermin were disposed of. They could keep running, but sooner or later he would show them the end of things.

 
 Spoiler 

The captain does 2 damage to Agares after TB (armour completely penetrated).

Another power fist AoA into a reaction power axe swing. Targeting-wise, if Jay's power works he'll focus on the not-controlled one first, and if that goes down then he'll try to take down the compelled one. That is, if Agares has any way to tell what's going on. If he doesn't...I guess it'd just be another one at each situation.

Attack, TN 74 (WS 49 + 5 Craftsmanship + 20 AoO):  (1d100)[ 37 ] 
Damage:  (2d10)[ 5 ][ 10 ](15) +18 E, Pen 7, Power Field

Attack, TN 54 (WS 49 + 5 Craftsmanship):  (1d100)[ 97 ] 
Damage:  (1d10)[ 6 ] +16 E, Pen 7, Power Field
 
Henry the 57th
Their numbers thinned by blade and heavy weapons fire, even psychically compelled to turn against their own by a vengeful Jay, the concept of retreat never once seems to cross the creatures' minds. The forced traitor throws itself at its kin with all the ferocity that its showed against the Explorers, only to be cut down by the towering Magos before it do more than screech and flail. Meanwhile the pack hounding the hapless guardsman only seem to redouble their efforts, as if desperate to make the most of what may be their final seconds of flesh. The man lets out a terrified scream as a boney claw finds purchase in his preexisting abdomen wound and abruptly drags him flailing to the ground. The others are upon him in fractions of a second.

 
 Spoiler: ??? 
 The beasts to the north will at least attempt to dodge Agares' wrath:  (1d100)[ 88 ]  vs. 45 for the Compelled one.
 (1d100)[ 11 ]  vs. 45 for the other one.

 Assuming survivors, the Compelled one attacks its kin if able, or Agares if he's already dead:  (1d100)[ 70 ]  vs. 35
Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 7 ]  Pen 0. 
Nope, he died first.

The other will attempt to go for the Captain, if at all able:  (1d100)[ 22 ]  vs. 35
Damage:  (1d10+3)[ 9 ]  Pen 0.

The eastern beasts will continue doing their damnedest to eat the poor surviving guardsman:  (1d100)[ 38 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 93 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 30 ]  vs. 35

 (1d10+3)[ 10 ]  Pen 0
 (1d10+3)[ 13 ]  Pen 0
 (1d10+3)[ 6 ]  Pen 0

The monsters to the west are all dead. 🙂
 

 "What the  hell  was that?!"  the Rogue Trader's voice speaking coherent words again comes as quite the relief, as the good captain blinks, shakes her head several times, and then almost instinctively lashes out with her power blade at the nearest surviving monster.

 
 Spoiler: Captain Ravenholm 
Half Action: Aim
Half Action: Standard attack at whatever monsters remain, if any:  (1d100)[ 82 ]  vs. 60.
Damage:  (1d10+9)[ 19 ]  E Damage, Pen 5.

Possession if needed:  (1d100)[ 45 ]  vs. 35.
If hit, -10 WP or  (1d3)[ 1 ]  Insanity and  (1d3)[ 1 ]  rounds of attacking allies.
WP test if needed:  (1d100)[ 20 ]  vs. 31.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Slightly coldly Krieger mutters a  “Thanks for keeping ‘em still.”  before lighting up the next mass of savage looking xeno filth in more purifying fusion fire.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 


Aim
Fire at pack near other dead guard
 (1d100)[ 44 ]  TN 61
Dam  (4d10)[ 5 ][ 4 ][ 6 ][ 4 ](19)  +5 Pen 8
(RF if needed  (5d10)[ 6 ][ 10 ][ 3 ][ 9 ][ 2 ](30) )

Dodge if needed  (1d100)[ 7 ]  TN 70
 
Volthawk
Agares finally feels some satisfaction when he sees one of the pair fall. Finally. They couldn't dodge forever. He still needed to finish the job, and then move on to clear out the rest, though...

 
 Spoiler 

Alright, since there's one left by Agares, he's going to open up with the power axe mechadendrite swing using his Reaction.

Attack, TN 54 (WS 49 + 5 Craftsmanship):  (1d100)[ 27 ] 
Damage:  (1d10)[ 9 ] +16 E, Pen 7, Power Field

If that kills it, his actual action will be spent moving towards the east tunnel (if Krieger's blast didn't wipe them out, anyway). If the first attack misses or is dodged, then he'll instead follow it up with a power fist All-Out Attack:

Attack, TN 74 (WS 49 + 5 Craftsmanship + 20 AoA):  (1d100)[ 85 ] 
Damage:  (2d10)[ 7 ][ 1 ](8) +18 E, Pen 7, Power Field
 
The Glyphstone
Seeing his enslaved beast smashed into paste before it could do anything of use, Jay abandons the idea of more subtle abilities and lashes out at the beast closest to the Captain with crushing telekinetic force to pin it in place.

 
 Spoiler: ooc 

Telekinetic Crush on a beast threatening the captain. Unfettered.

 (1d100)[ 27 ]  vs. 96.  Opposed by Toughness.
Deals  (1d10+6)[ 10 ] , Pen 0, and is Grappled.
 
Henry the 57th
Between the flash of melta energy, the hulking mutant's brutal implanted weapons, and the psychic attacks of the other mutant, the last of the strange creatures are swept aside in a flurry of blackened, sticky gore. Captain Ravenholm, panting heavily and still looking more than a little pale, is left to watch as tendrils of snaking mist wind their way around the bodies of her surviving subordinates.

 
 Spoiler 
Possession attack vs Agares:  (1d100)[ 39 ]  vs. 35
If hit, succeed in a -10 WP test per hit or else take  (1d3)[ 3 ]  Insanity per hit and attack your allies for  (1d3)[ 1 ]  rounds.

Possession attacks vs Krieger:  (1d100)[ 71 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 35 ]  vs. 35
 (1d100)[ 51 ]  vs. 35
If hit, succeed in a -10 WP test per hit or else take  (1d3)[ 3 ]  Insanity per hit and attack your allies for  (1d3)[ 1 ]  rounds. Note that insanity points from multiple hits stack on a per hit basis but rounds attacking do not as the spirits cannot long sustain such powers even as a flailing mass.

If these fail, then the combat is over.
 
DrK
Kireger smiles as the flames consume the creatures before the wispy spirits surround him, he shakes his head as voices echo in his head, his vision fills with red rage and he spies the admech, the beast of steel that cares nothing for flesh...  "See how you cope with no flesh..."  he grunt as the melta spins towards the mech priest... just as the trigger starts to pull he shakes his head, eyes clearing and jerks the melta to the side as the flaming ball of fire zips narrowly past Agares.

Krieger raises a hand,  "Throne. that was horrible. They infected me.. but its gone now."  he says as he lowers the melta barrels.  "Are they all gone?"  he asks as he trots towards the downed troopers to check them both over.
The Glyphstone
Jay takes several moments to re-center his focus, mentally cleansing himself of every last shred of contamination from the malign creature's invasion. Only once he is certain that his mind is pure once more does he re-apply his psionic defenses and move to join the others.
 
"This group is gone. But I am sure they are but the least of the horrors we shall face in this accursed place." 
Volthawk
Once it's clear that the fight is over, Agares takes a moment to examine where the raven struck him. Minor damage, not an impediment to moving on. Good.

  "Indeed. This place has a long history, and many...remnants of that history. Monsters and spirits, lingering from the end. However. They can be killed. Will be killed."   Agares nods.   "It is why we are here, tearing down the history of things in order to shape our futures. Yes. That is why they resist us."  
Henry the 57th
Looking around at the pulped, smashed, exploded, and nearly disintegrated bodies of their former attackers, two things become readily apparent to the explorers. The first is that, for the moment at least, they are truly alone. No further packs of slavering mongrels are loping forth from the darkness to devour their flesh, at least for now. How long that state of affairs will persist, given the enormous racket that was just made and the smell of decaying meat already beginning to permeate the air, is unclear.

The second is the nature of their previous foes. Looking at the blackened, gooey, foul-smelling insides of the creatures, it is readily apparent that these creatures have been dead for some time, with internal decay much advanced with the exception of the musculature, which evidences only minor signs of rot alongside severe dehydration. It is also clear, now that these things can be examined in detail, that they were once at least human adjacent. Each corpse is built around the same fundamental humanoid body plan, but each also contains unnatural blasphemous variations. An elongated jaw here, a set of small curling horns there, patches of scale, the remains of feathers, or rubbery skin - all of it can be seen on those bits of the beasts that remain, along with scraps of rotten cloth seemingly fused into the dead flesh. One relatively intact arm from a creature pummeled into paste by Agares has a noticeable tattoo seemingly carved into its bicep - a ten-pointed star suspended between the jaws of a serpent.

 
 Spoiler: All 
Anyone with Forbidden Lore (Heresy or the Warp) can attempt to make a test at +10 to identify more about the tattoo's origins
 

 "Maybe..."  even in the dim light available in this sandy pit, Captain Ravenholm is looking noticeably pale. Sweat is tricking down the sides of her face and she's looking uncomfortably at her own hands.  "Maybe we should fall back just a bit. Let the men know just what it is that's down here."  she glances over at the charred remains of her eviscerated soldiers, surrounded by lumps of twisted, blackened carbon.  "Secure areas closer to the entrance and proceed more methodically. With more backup."  It seems obvious from her demeanor that the experience of losing control of her own body and mind, however briefly, has rattled the proud Rogue Trader more than a little.
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger changes the bulky fuel cell of the multi melta and looks to the others. Examing the bodies he shakes his head before nodding to the Lady Captain.  "I would agree Captain, a retreat to regroup and then we can secure the immediate caverns but..."  He looks to Agares.

 "Mechanicum, did the objects in the centre. Did you discover anything of value in there?"  he asks,  "Or just servo skull? Does it contain information he adds.  
Volthawk
Agares waves a dismissive arm at the mention of the servo-skull.   "Bah. Merely the empty threats of the long-dead but still here. It identified who we were, then suggested we would not escape alive. Nonsense. We will prevail."   He pauses, turning to look at Captain Ravenholm with piercing artifical eyes.   "However, I follow the word of the raven. If you wish to retreat, so be it."  
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger looks up the ramp and heads down towards one of the openings where the strange beasts came from, he peers up the ramp carefully shining a glow lamp.  "Do we retreat Lord Captain timidly or press on with hearts like Astartes..."  He'll peer up towards the ramp and gesture to the others suggesting that we press on at least to dicover the source of the xenos. Looking at the astropath he does ask,  "Can you sense any more witchcraft" 
The Glyphstone
 "I sense nothing of immediate concern here now, but I did not see these creatures coming until they were almost upon us. The foul resonances that emanate from the very stones of this ruin bear enough malevolence to conceal the approach of lesser threats." 
Henry the 57th
 "R-Right,"  the Lord Captain, her face still visibly shining with cold sweat, forces her body stand tall and proud once more, visibly trying not to look unnerved at Jay's words.  "We need to take this endeavor more slowly."  her voice deepens and becomes more confident as she resumes the familiar activity of issuing orders.  "We've confirmed that there is wealth to be had here, and something of the nature of the opposition. We need to summon more soldiers from the camp, more holy men with blessed wards. Sweep areas closer to the entrance clean and secure a perimeter before we delve deeper. For now..."  she takes a deep breath.  "For now we fall back to the campsite." 

Fully expecting to be obeyed without question, the Rogue Trader marches south, right past the charred remains of the mutants and her own men, and right back through the entrance through which the Explorers originally came.

 
 Spoiler: All 
Assuming you choose to follow Captain Ravenholm, on your way out anyone can choose to make an Awareness or Logic test at no penalty to notice something.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Offering a brief prayer to the Emperor and the throne for the two unfortunates Krieger nods at the Lady Captain.  "As you command Lady, let me take point so we do not risk your safety" . Assuming she pauses he'll take point, slinging the melta on his back and drawing pistol and glittering power blade and keeping 5-6m ahead of the lady Captain as with his photovisor down to help with the darkness he'll scan the area for danger

 Awareness  (1d100)[ 1 ]  TN 50 
The Glyphstone
Jay follows behind, casting his senses out in search of anything that might seem to deviate from the tomb's pervasive aura of hostile misery.

Awareness:  (1d100)[ 65 ]  vs. 81, with +1 DoS from assistance.
Henry the 57th
 
 Spoiler: Krieger 
Looking over at the southern entranceway as the Rogue Trader passes beneath, your gun's light shines on the tunnel that you came from. It may just be your imagination - or at least you hope so - but it almost seems to you as though the floor and ceiling are less sloped now than they were a few minutes ago.

As you pass underneath the archway, a thought occurs to you: nothing that you fought was even remotely large (or organized) enough to make the partially concealed Agares-sized tracks that you all spotted in the sandy pit. Whatever it is, it seems very unlikely to you that such creatures as you fought would have been able to take it down.
 

 
 Spoiler: Jay 
Looking over at the southern entranceway as the Rogue Trader passes beneath, your gun's light shines on the tunnel that you came from. It may just be your imagination - or at least you hope so - but it almost seems to you as though the floor and ceiling are less sloped now than they were a few minutes ago.
 


Following the lead of their Lord Captain, the surviving explorers leave the charred remains of their foes and comrades alike to the vagaries of whatever else the maze might spew forth, and pass back through the entrance from whence they came. Nothing immediately changes as they do so, the darkness being just as unrelenting in here as in the sand pit chamber, but at least there are only two directions from which enemies might emerge in here. The Rogue Trader leading the pack is walking at a brisk and steady pace as they retrace their steps, her sword still clutched tightly in one hand and the other never straying far from the laspistol at her hip.

The bleak tunnel doesn't get any wider or any brighter as they press on into it, if anything it seems to be absorbing even more of the light from their limited lumens than before. Time is difficult to tell down here, but it is perhaps a minute or more into their return journey when the good captain's feeble-looking light shines on something straight ahead and she gives a sudden start, hurriedly backing up several steps. Her power blade flares to full activation with a sudden hum and a crackling burst of energy.

Dead ahead, standing plainly in the dead center of the stone passageway, unconcealed and unmistakable, is yet another figure that might be called humanoid, but only just. Scraps of grey cloth barely cling to dehydrated, parchment-like flesh hanging from occasionally protruding moldering bones. The thing's two arms are mismatched, one long and thin, terminating in a trio of taloned fingers, and the other more conventionally humanlike. A pair of twisted, branchlike antlers emerge from a misshapen, lumpy skull at asymmetrical angles, jutting abruptly out to either side to frame the abomination's loathsome face.

Unlike all the others, this creature is not hunched over and barreling madly at the group on all fours. It's not moving at all. It's just standing there on two thin, cervidae-eque hind limbs. Its desiccated face stares directly at the explorers with hollow black pits where eyes ought to be, the withered flesh around its jaws peeled back to reveal a revolting mishmash of crooked humanlike teeth and yellowing fangs jutting from the jawbone at irregular and uncomfortable looking angles. Even with lights shining directly upon it, it makes no move towards the intruders.
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger freezes as the lumen plays over the figure, his fingers tight on the hilts of the bolt pistol and power sword that humns faintly.  "Lady Captain, do we engage?"  he asks eyeing it up suspiciously and aiming at the thing's head where the antlers meet its skull,  "It may wish to speak with us though I do not know what filthy xeno tongue it utters." 
Henry the 57th
 "I..."  the pistol is already in Captain Ravenholm's hand, the tip of her power sword leveled right for the monster's chest.  "I..."  the Rogue Trader takes a step backwards towards her entourage, obviously torn between the desire to end the thing's unnatural existence right then and there and dread for the potential consequences of doing so. It's difficult to track her eyes in the darkness but from the quick glance behind her she seems to be looking to see if someone else is about to make the call for her. The ghastly corpse itself seems completely unperturbed by this, if anything the sudden slightly cocked posture of its lumpy skull could almost be described as bemused.
DrK
 Krieger 

Seeing the hesitation in the Lady Captain Krieger steps slightly closer, still blade and pistol ready.  "Speak xeno, speak if you can but know our Astropath here will detect any vile sorceries that you may try and use."   As he speaks he prays to the Golden Throne that he is right in that assumption.  "We wish the the secrets of the place, tell us of them now."  he barks.
Volthawk
Agares lets Krieger handle the talking for now, but moves ahead a little, putting himself between the creature and the Lord-Captain - to the side enough that she can still see the thing, but positioned so he can still easily step in the way if things became more hostile.
Henry the 57th
The mutant corpse's jawbone is hanging from its face by a few thin strips of parched grey flesh, and its tongue has long since rotted away. The hollow sockets where its eyes ought to be turn slowly towards Krieger, vertebrae in its back audibly cracking like ancient parchment. There is a abrupt sucking sound, as if a vacuum had been spontaneously conjured amidst the gloomy tunnel. And then the reanimated horror's jaw quite literally splits in two as it throws its head forward and screams.

A hundred voices and more suddenly assail the quartet's ears and minds, simultaneously begging, weeping, shouting, babbling, and wailing in tormented ecstasy, all in a completely dead language never meant for human tongues. Their eyes feel as if they are being ripped from their skulls as all briefly goes black, before a bluish-green serpent lunges from the darkness, snapping wildly at the darkness in paroxysms of fury. The snake dissolves into a blur of tunnels and chambers of immense scale, where specters and corpses and stranger things still are hurled back by a great shadowed giant. Green of eye and terrible of aspect, it looses bone-chilling gales of unmistakably immaterial aspect, shredding the very souls of fiends long dead and collapsing swathes of stone that had stood for eons accounted, its sustaining power leeched away by icy void. Then the unbearable cold becomes searing inferno, as an explosion of heat seems to burst out from inside the explorers' chest. A blinding lance of light pierces the heart of the terrible giant, and it shrieks in despair as it dissolves away to nothing.

Further blackness overtakes their vision, and for a moment all the four can feel is a visceral, gnawing, all-consuming jealous  hunger . Hunger for flesh, hunger for life, hunger for the sweet warmth that dwells within their own breasts, and an all but irresistible urge to tear out their own hearts to sate it. Then the gnawing ache abates, ever so briefly, as they watch man after man, unmistakably dressed in the grey and purple of Ravenholm's Hyzian soldiers, seized, pulled down, dragged off, torn apart, screaming helplessly as the light around them slowly dies. Then, just as suddenly as it was upon them, the hunger vanishes. The explorers see themselves once more beneath the desert sun, barking commands to cowering officers. Endless rows of men and women march into the maw of the maze, lashed pitilessly by faceless overseers clad in black, soon to vanish forever amidst the soft yellow-white stone. But as for the explorers themselves... so much as glancing at their own visage shows them scenes of themselves dragging great hauls forth from the gloom. Surrounding each and every one of them is a horde of priceless alien art and tablets of a truly beautiful golden countenance, jeweled statues the size of battle tanks cast in the image of monolithic terrors from the dawn of time, and fantastical obelisk-like xenotech marvels of inestimable value. Wealth beyond the dreams of avarice runs through their fingers like rivers of gold one moment, and then the next they simply dissolve back into the pitch black void.

The visions prove as brief as they are intense. It takes but a handful of heartbeats for the explorers to find themselves right back in that gloomy underground tunnel once again, the ghastly form of the undead mutant still standing right where it was, a brand new crack running straight up the center of its face. Its eye sockets stare blankly at the quartet before it, and the air about it seems now almost curious.

 
 Spoiler: All 
The thing's proposal seems as straightforward as it is ghoulish, and so no check is needed to understand it. It bids you agree to eliminate the shadowy giant, this serpent-thing that gnaws on the guts of this place, and feed the dwellers within on the blood of House Ravenholm's men. In return, you will be shown treasures hidden deep within the maze, and even more importantly the way out.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger shudders and shakes his head trying to clear the visions, a deep pulse of terror and horror running through his veins. Glancing at the Lady Captain he gives a slight shake of his head.  “No Lady Captain, not with the xeno horror.” 

Despite his apathy about the men he commands Krieger still harbours all the latent xenophobia of an Imperial Loyalist.  “just give the order…”  he offers nodding at the blade and pistol
The Glyphstone
 "The forms and temptations of the demon are many and vast, but the price to be paid in the end is always measured in souls." 

There is no doubt in Jay's mind that the horror would make good on its promises if they fed it the souls of those who had sworn loyalty to their house. And when it was all done, their souls would belong to it willingly for such a betrayal of oaths. He would die to prevent that, and if any among the group showed an inclination to weakness, he would kill to save them from themselves. Even the Rogue Trader.
Henry the 57th
Captain Ravenholm's face is still pale and slick with sweat, and her breaths are heavy and audibly labored. For a moment, she hesitates, staring at the malevolent horror standing before the explorers with the tip of her sword pointed downwards. Still, the fortitude of her subordinates seems to lend the Rogue Trader a renewed sense of spiritual vigor. After a few seconds, her face hardens, her grip tightens around her fine pistol, and her voice rings out clear and strong.

  "Open fire!"  

The darkness explodes into a brief, blinding lightshow as four pairs of hands clamp down on triggers, sending a hail of las and melta fire screaming down the tight corridor straight for the exposed monster's wilted flesh. The beast makes no attempt, in the half second or so it has to live, to do anything to avoid its fate. What little is left of its host's lips merely peel back to expose more teeth in a ghastly semblance of a rictus grin, and the next moment its reanimated form is riddled with energy bolts a split second before seared into charcoal by the molten heat of a short range antitank weapon. When the the spots die back from the group's eyes, a cloud of ashes in the air and a few fist-fisted driblets of liquified, flaming undead flesh scattered across the floor are all that is left of the creature.

Still... a previously nonexistent wind picks up in this deep underground tunnel, chill as the grave. All four of the surviving men and women can feel an unpleasant icy sensation creeping down the backs of their spine, can smell an incongruous blend of ashes and incense amidst the stale air. Though all eye one another warily, remembering all too well what had just happened, not one of the four seems inclined to raise their weapons against the others. A few more seconds pass in cautious before there comes the distant sound of stone grinding on stone, echoing softly through the blackness.

 
 Spoiler: All 
Anyone with a Forbidden Lore (Warp) skill can take a test at -20 to try and figure out what just happened.
 
Volthawk
Agares doesn't speak up when the creature makes its offer, when the Lord-Captain nonverbally (and perhaps unknowingly) asks for help, or when the creature is fired upon. He just watches, his mind distracted as it turns its focus onto the monstrosity and its offer, and now also its death, analysisng and comparing, drawing on past visions, dwelling on things best left alone, considering, trying to learn more...

After a few more moments, he shakes his head, perfect clarity and understanding escaping him yet again.   "Bah. Let us proceed."  
 
 Spoiler 

Looks like Jay doesn't have The Warp, so it's down to Agares. Using Whispers Unheard to make all Int skills Basic, so Agares can give it a try:

Intelligence, TN 60 (Insanity 60):  (1d100)[ 74 ] 

On a failure, that's that, no lore check but also no cost.  On a success, I'll also trigger Unholy Insight for a bonus, so in total he takes  (1d5-2)[ 1 ] +1 Insanity and can make a Forbidden Lore (The Warp) test as a Basic skill with a +1/2 Insanity bonus from Whispers Unheard and a +10 bonus from Unholy Insight - since Agares is using his Insanity as his Int for the test (so he halves Insanity for a basic check then adds half Insanity back on), that just makes it Insanity+10 base, so after this check's pealty that's 50 plus whatever he just gained.

Forbidden Lore (The Warp), TN 50ish (will edit):  (1d100)[ 66 ]  
 
DrK
 Kreiger 

Lowering the smoking pistol Krieger looks past the Lady Captain at the astropath, an enquiring   "What by the throne was that?"  , then looks down the passage.  "Shall we get a move on Lady Captain, best be moving away from the area lest this xeno ghost thing returns?" . He checks the pistol, ramming a fresh clip into it it before making sure both blade and pistol are at the ready and moving forwards
The Glyphstone
 "Some manner of warp-spawned xenos horror, an anathema to the Omnissiah's sacred code. Best we not seek the truth of its nature and retain the purity of ignorance."  

Jay takes a moment to reach out with his mind, but senses only the tomb's ever-present aura of inhuman malice around them. Mechastopheles pokes his head out of the pack and gives a querulous squawk before hiding again.
Henry the 57th
 "Yes... Yes..."  Captain Ravenholm nods, after a few seconds of eyeing up the bubbling pools of liquified, necrotized tissue. She does not move to holster her weapons.  "Move out." 

With the Rogue Trader continuing to lead the way, the four survivors continue back the way that they came. Or, at least, they try to. It doesn't take the group too terribly long to come to the uncomfortable realization that the pitch-black tunnel they're traversing is not nearly as sloped as it was only a few minutes before. There's certainly a  mild  upwards incline beneath their feet, but nothing nearly so sharp as what they descended to reach the depths in the first place. Still, given that their choices are either to proceed and see what happens or to take their chances with the sandy pit chamber and its necrotic inhabitants, their captain makes the executive decision to press boldly forward into the darkness and face whatever it contains.

What it contains turns out, as the minutes tick by almost imperceptibly, to be a great deal of dust and stone, and not much else. The pathway ahead gradually, gently, and almost unnoticeably curves back upon itself several times as the Explorers trudge onwards, ever alert for more specters and revenants. Yet, for all their vigilance, they find nothing but more and more bare stonework making up a simple, unbranching path. Besides the occasional bit of pictographic rune-script here and there, there is little to distinguish one section of this place from any of the rest. The journey is so monotonous that it's only Agares internal chromometers that allow them to really register the hours passing, otherwise it is doubtful that any of them could have said exactly how long they were there. Logic suggests that they ought to be feeling thirsty and peckish, and that their feet ought to hurt at least a little after so much walking, and yet it simply is not so. There is no hunger, nor thirst, nor weariness. There is only the darkness, only the maze, and only the journey ahead. And so it proves for many hours of simple, almost rhythmic trudging up the gentle, silent, uninterrupted path. Then, without any warning, the four of them round yet another unremarkable smooth, looping bend.

The Explorers find themselves... right back at the gargantuan dodecagonal atrium where they had started from. Emerging from the gateway furthest to the left from the main entrance, there's no mistaking the hundreds upon hundreds of meters of runic script running over stone, nor the dim and distant forms of the other eleven gateways spread across the grand entrance that could comfortably hold Titans, nor the central pit where Agares inadvertently murdered a guardsmen, nor, most crucially, the cathedral-sized open gate from which they originally entered. The only notable differences are that the hall is now almost as pitch dark as the underground tunnels, and that the men and armored personnel carriers that the explorers had left behind to keep the entrance secure are nowhere to be seen. Outside the main gate is merely the scene of a starlit desert night, cold pinpricks of artificial light a beacon amidst the distant dunes.

 "Insolent, cowardly curs..."  Captain Ravenholm's grip on her still-unsheathed power sword tightens noticeably.  "They  abandoned  us!"  She grits her teeth, her voice growing cold and deep.  That sergeant dies first." 
The Glyphstone
 "If they yet live to die by our hand, Captain, it may be a mercy to them. This place does not welcome the living, and I am certain we have but seen the barest beginnings of the defenses it may bring to oppose our trespass." 

Jay casts his blind eyes across the hall all the same, seeking any signs of where the security troops left behind might have gone. Or for that matter, any signs they were ever here in the first place.

 
 Spoiler 

Awareness:  (1d100)[ 38 ]  vs. 81, +1 DoS.
Psyniscence:  (1d100)[ 93 ]  vs. 71.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

At mention of the killing of the deserted guards Krieger nods.  “Yes ma’am, iron discipline needs iron resolve.”  Watchimg the room carefully he’ll approach the exit back to the surface carefully, sword away and pistol in both hands as he looks out the massive opening carefully for signs of guards or the chimera.

If be sees nothing he’ll activate his comms unit to vox cast to their shuttle.  “Krieger here. Situation report
?” 
Henry the 57th
 "We destroyed everything that stood in our way once,"  Captain Ravenholm replies to her psyker as the ground slowly makes its way across the atrium to the cathedral-sized opening to the desert.  "We'll do again. And again. And again. And again. Until the lesson sticks. Dust and gheists and shambling corpses won't keep me from my destiny. Cowards won't deny me."  She casts an eye behind her, back down the same portal that the quartet of survivors had emerged from.  "There's more wealth buried here than a dozen Forge Worlds could produce in a hundred years, and it  will  be mine."  She clenches her fist.  "House Ravenholm will not fade away." 

As their footsteps echo loudly throughout the chamber, Krieger, for his part, gets around thirty seconds of dead air and static before a crackling, hesitant reply comes through.  "L-Lord Krieger?"  the voice on the other end is clearly agitated.  "You're alive?! How? I- no,"  the voice catches itself.  "Not again. In the G-God Emperor's holy name, be g-gone from the sacred vox n-network, abomination!" 

The moment that the four Explorers cross the threshold into the desert night, the temperature around them drops perceptibly, from a stuffy and confining sense of warmth to a biting chill that immediately raises goosebumps on uncovered flesh. The wind out here is slow but profoundly unpleasant, as though blocks of ice were being slowly dragged across their flesh. In the distance, several hundred meters across the dunes, they can clearly see the reassuring blackened iron of the camp's defensive walls, coils of razorwire wrapped around the top. Floodlights are set up every few dozen meters, illuminating the desert sands all around them with their blindingly harsh white glare and making spotting activity on top of the walls difficult from this distance. It is noteworthy, however, that there seems to be no activity whatsoever outside of the fortress camp, its gates sealed thoroughly shut and not even a single reconnaissance Sentinel or Chimera out on patrol. Still, at least the way from here to there seems to be refreshingly straightforward.

 
 Spoiler: Jay 
Sweeping your light around the vast entranceway, what you see is conspicuous by its absence. The fine layer of desert sand covering the rune-etched stone floor by the desert entranceway is remarkably undisturbed for a space that had armored vehicles driving over the top of it mere hours ago. The scattering is quite smooth and even, thinning out the further it gets from the cavernous opening just as one would expect if it had been moved by the desert winds and nothing more. As to the remainder of the area, it again is conspicuous more for its lack than anything else. It's darker than it was during the daylight, much darker, but beyond that it seems to be mostly the same. The entire chamber is quiet and dark, and if anything or anyone is watching from the elven other portals at ground level or the maw-like pillared openings hanging above them, they aren't visible to you. By all accounts, it seems as though this place is deserted and has been for some time.

You don't, however, mentally sense anything particularly different from the usual pervading background of age, emptiness, and choking mind fog that's been the same throughout this place.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger snarls an oath under his breath, waves the glow lamp above his head to make sure that the walls can see it against the dark tomb entrance and barks into the vox.  "Attend the lady Captain at once. I want a chimera and response team, and a bottle of Amsec warmed and ready. Get it done i'll bust you down the meanest penal battalion and have you scrubbing the dust off the tomb floors"  

As he finishes he looks at the others.  "Its pretty exposed here Ma'am, shall we start walking towards the camp to keep moving and keep warm?"  Looking back into the mysterious tomb he suggests,  "Xeno maze been here  a long time, still be here tomorrow. " 
Henry the 57th
 "The L-Lady Captain? I..."  the voice hesitates for a moment, then the vox crackles and goes dead. Several seconds go by, but no voice returns to the comms.

 "That man is next,"  Captain Ravenholm mutters darkly, before finally returning her power blade to its sheathe.  "And you're quite right Krieger, the sooner we get back the sooner I can deal with these cowards. Let's move." 

The journey across the dunes proves to be an irritating one. Egaria Theta's winds are unpleasant at the best of times, but the combine them with the sheer chill of the night and the effect is extremely unpleasant. The sand proves coarse and rough, with an irritating propensity to get absolutely everywhere. The little grains make their way into boots, past multiple layers of armor and clothing, and even somehow find a way to lodge themselves into the interior of Agares' oversized cybernetics. Though the walk is only a few hundred meters and takes only a few minutes, it feels like a good deal longer than that.

When the Explorers get within perhaps fifty meters or so of the camp's defensive walls, they are momentarily all but blinded when a pair of the blazing white floodlight suddenly rotate to focus in on them. The quartet can hear a sudden rash of voices atop a wall, hoarse and hurried, even while their eyes are dilating and seeing spots. One of the searchlights continues to track them on their way in, and it doesn't take much in the way of intellect to guess that it isn't the only thing. Still, at least no one outright opens fire. With the Rogue Trader still leading the way, they make their way to a vast set pair of gates, still slammed shut and overlooked by no small number of iron-masked Hyzian men, their rifles clutched close to their chest behind their coils of razorwire. The Lady Captain doesn't hesitate, marching right up to the imposing fortress and standing right in the open before them, floodlight continuing to shine down on her. It's a disturbingly vulnerable position.

  "In the name of Lady-Captain Lisette Athena Brunhilde Yor Ravenholm, Rogue Trader and Scion of House Ravenholm,"   her voice, cold and imperious, booms out,   "and your rightful Mistress, I command that this gate be opened at once, and that the cur who dares to shut my property against me be brought before me without delay."  

A delay there is, however. It takes about thirty seconds or so from when the captain gives her blunt demands to when the the gates begin to churn. The double doors slowly, painful swing outwards with the horrible squealing sound of metal on metal, missing the expedition's completely unphased commander by less than hand's span. Just behind the opening portal, standing between the explorers and the first neat rows of dusty prefabricated buildings, are perhaps a score of hastily-assembled Hyzian guardsmen, standing at something resembling attention with clearly varying levels of alertness. One man in particular, his left pauldron marked with an officer's stripes, stands a few paces in front of the rest.

 "My lady,"  one of the iron-masked men bows a bit at the waist.  "Sergeant Heylo, ranking officer of third shift watch, sector 27. My apologies for the tardiness..."  he looks up.  "No one informed me that you were coming. That you were... still alive after all this time, my lady." 

The Rogue Trader's eyes narrow as she walks right up to the bonded armsman, scrutinizing him from a scant few paces away.  "If that's true, someone's going to answer for it."  Her gaze drifts slightly towards the rank of men behind him.  "One of you, go. Now. Bring me Overseer Killenvor at-" 

Captain Ravenholm's head abruptly jerks to her left side looking suddenly at something deeper into the camp, immediately before she all but throws herself onto her back. Sergeant Heylo's masked face looks about as nonplussed as an iron war mask can for the split second before there comes a faint *fwip* sound. The man lets out a slight sigh, then teeters and collapses to the ground in a dull heap, a needle-thin sliver of oily black crystal sticking out of his neck, right where the Rogue Trader had just been standing.
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger darts forwards towards the rogue trader, a bellow of  "Lay down covering fire. Protect the Lady Captain"  as he moves to crouch above her and level his pistol towards the camp searching for a target.








 Init if needed  (1d10+5)[ 9 ]  - if &lt; 10 on the score re-roll  (1d10+5)[ 11 ]   
Volthawk
Agares can sometimes be hard to understand or read, but it's clear that the desert sand irriates him. He doesn't vocalise it, but it's there in the little things, somehow not being lost in the unrest that always has his mechadendrites in motion. Whether down to that lingering annoyance, or simply not caring to intrude in the Lord-Captain dealing with her underlings, he doesn't say much during the exchange at the gates, besides a rumbling murmur of   "After all this time..."   echoing the sergeant's own words.

Hm. Many hours had passed, yes, but that shouldn't warrant abandoning their loyalty to the raven so quickly. Either the words of fools had more of an effect on morale here than he had previously thought, or...

The apparent assassination attempt serves as enough of a distraction to break Agares' train of thought, and he glances down at the sergeant once he realises Krieger is covering the Lord-Captain, nodding to himself before heading in the direction that Ravencroft was looking, his assessment of the situation booming out from his vocal synthesiser.   "Xenos weaponry. Local. Either something left that place before us and waited, or we have darkness within to uproot."  
Henry the 57th
All around the Explorers, the camp erupts into action. Responding rapidly to Lord Krieger's orders and the sudden death of their Sergeant, several of the iron-masked Hyzian soldiers rush forward to surround the Lady Captain, with two men helping to hoist the swearing Rogue Trader back to her feet while the others form an impromptu perimeter. Speculative lasfire flashes out into the night, in the vague direction from which the crystalline needle shot had come. There is shouting from atop the defense line walls, the sounds of boots stamping on metal, and at least few more shots from on high. Between the stark glare of the harsh artificial lights and the comparatively pitch-black night sky, it is rather difficult to tell if their red lances of lasfire are hitting anything in the distance, but they're certainly putting in the effort.

 "Get me..."  Captain Ravenholm is breathing hard, her fine armor covered in sand and her immaculate hair a mess. Her cheeks are visibly flush, and sweat is dripping down her forehead.  "Get me to the Overseer.'s quarters Now."  she orders the soldiers immediately around her.  "Krieger, Agares, Jay, take as many men as you need,"  she glances at the soldiers, still spreading volleys of lasfire in the general direction of the initial shot, some even trampling over their Sergeant's body in their commendable zeal to do so, even though no further fire has come from that way.  "And hunt down the the traitor. A man in sun-bleached white robes, with a black long rifle. His face was covered, and he's wearing mirrored goggles. There."  she points towards the top of one of the dozens of identical prefabricated buildings, perhaps a hundred meters or so from their position.  "Bring him to me  alive ."  Cold malice fills her voice.
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger nods to the Lady Captain, motioning a squad of men.  "Get her to the office..."  then with a sweeping motion with the pistol he gestures at the building to the other nearby men,  "Rest of you scrawny grunts follow me."  and he sets off at a sprint towards the distant building the Lady Captain had pointed out seeking her would be assassin.

 OOC

Full run towards the distant building

 
The Glyphstone
Jay stands still for a moment, while Mechastopheles peers anxiously out of the top of the backpack. With a horrid, screeching crunch, the door to the nearest hab-hut is torn off its hinges and floats through the air over to where the group is gathered. Jay positions the impromptu shield between the Lady-Captain and the direction of the sniper fire, sheltering himself behind it as well and moving it as they walk to the office appropriately.
Volthawk
Agares glances back when he hears the raven speak, his head moving to track where she's pointing. There, then. Very well. He's content to let Krieger handle wrangling the men, but as he stomps towards the entrance to the building one thought does enter his mind - take him alive? That may be...tricky.
Henry the 57th
 "Yes sir,"  one of the iron-masked soldiers, audibly shaken by the sudden death of his Sergeant, the barrel of his lasgun still smoking from the barrage of semiautomatic fire he unleashed in the general vicinity of the sniper's position, seems to speak for the rest of the Hyzians, as the indentured guardsmen more or less fall into line behind Krieger. With the massive, mutant techpriest in tow, the hunting party makes good time across the mostly deserted, with what few laborers dare to emerge from their hab-units at night already scattered and cowering away from the storms of gunfire that have already flown through the area. Despite the sniper's elevated position atop the bland prefab structure, no further incoming fire comes forth to greet them and, at least as far as they can see, no cloaked figures emerge from the structure, either to flee or to make a fight of it.

The hunting party, around thirteen soldiers strong, plus Krieger and Agares, rapidly moves to surround the structure that the Captain indicated, taking up covered positions amidst the surrounding prefabs, lasrifles alternatively covering the twin entrances on either side or rooftop from which the shot had allegedly emerged. For a moment, all remains quiet, with no visible motion atop the permacrete box and no incoming fire. After a tense few moments of nothing much happening, the explorers and part of the squad opt to move in on both entrances simultaneously, though as both metallic portals are much too heavy to kick in they have to settle for simply activating the twin sets of double doors and letting them trundle open with all the usual rumbles and squealing. Inside is... a bland generic bunkhouse, with four rows of five double-stacked metal bedframes supporting forty uncomfortable looking standard-issue military cots, with a few paltry belongings, bags, and clotheslines supporting some ragged sun-bleached tunics, pants and robes strung out between the beds about the only things to differentiate one from the other. In the artificial darkness of post-curfew lighting, forty or so rough-looking, desert-tanned men and women are in alternate stages of sitting up, glaring irritably at the sudden intrusion of light and noise, covering their faces with well-worn pillows, or most perceptively looking rather nervous about the apparent raid. There are twin gunmetal grey ladders on either side of the bunkhouse, presumably both leading to the roof overhead.

 "What's this then?"  one worker drone, harsh exterior light reflecting off his bald, bronzed scalp squints and has the gall to sound annoyed about the intrusion.  "We didn't do nuffin' ta need no inspection." 

Meanwhile, heading in an altogether different direction, a door psychically held aloft acting as their shield, the Lady Captain Ravenholm, her pet psyker, and the remainder of the wall garrison march off straight for the blockhouse bearing the twin grey and purple banners with the sigil of her house, still the only real distinguishing factor marking the Overseer's domain out from anywhere else in this place. Their pace is quite brisk, enough so that keeping the impromptu barricade on target is a bit of effort, but at the least there is no further incoming fire.

The guards in front of the Overseer's office snap to attention at the Rogue Trader's approach, but she says absolutely nothing as she brushes past them, a deep scowl etched upon her feature. The temperature inside the office blockhouse is noticably warmer and more comfortable than that of the frigid desert night, but if the good lady notices it seems to make no difference. She walks right through the entranceway as if she owns the place, which she does, scattering hapless menials and secretaries with total indifference to their existence, such is her laserlike focus on the office at the rear. Scarcely has the door opened when she storms inside, dusty boots treading carelessly over the scarlet and gold rug.

 "My l-lady,"  Overseer Killenvor rises hurriedly from where he was sitting, still half-dress in his nightclothes with one of his secretaries standing meekly at his side, bearing a data slate and vox-caster. Both bow, the Overseer noticeably more deeply.  "Thank the E-Emperor you are w-well, I-" 
 "Shut up,"  Captain Ravenholm hisses, earning herself a deeper, somewhat shaky bow from her subordinate.

Behind the Rogue Trader first Jay, then the remainder of her improvised rentinue files somewhat awkwardly into the office. All of them look terribly dirty and plain, out of place amidst the lush surroundings, but given the night's events absolutely no one wants to be the one to leave Ravenholm alone without her express dismissal. The number of armed men in the area grows considerably, and the temperature in the office seems to drop right alongside that.

 "I am a forgiving mistress,"  the Lady Captain says, face visibly flush, fine armor and silken clothes coated with an unpleasant layer of tomb dust and desert sand, beads of sweat and a few drops of blood sliding down her forehead.  "I've put up with more than my share of incompetence from this place, but  this ... this..."  her voice grows dangerously quiet, and she glances over at her psyker.  "Jay, kill him,"  she orders in a cold, imperious tone. Killenvor backs up a step, eyes wide as dinner plates, arms up as if to shield himself, jaw moving as if words should be emerging.  "Kill him now." 
DrK
 Kriger 

The soldier looks around the room and spies the ladders, a brief,  "Hold these scum in here, your three follow me""  as he assigns some of the squad to holding the menials before he leaps onto the ladder and starts climbing upwards heading for the roof access.
The Glyphstone
Jay's sightless gaze turns to the condemned man as he calls to the power of the Warp, letting the unnatural power flow more freely than normal. A hideous, unnatural stench beyond anything the mortal world could possibly contain fills the air. Even as Killenvor turns in a hopeless thought of fleeing, he is held fast by the telekinetic power that surges forth to bind him. A moment passes while he struggles - then the invisible energy contracts upon the man mercilessly. Flesh crumples, blood spurts, and bones shatter under the crushing psychic power, twisting what was once a man into a unrecognizable mass of blood-soaked tissue and glistening white bone fragments over the course of mere seconds.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 

rolled in OOC, but 20 Impact damage should put him into crits in the first round, then another 1d10+12 to kill him outright in the second.
 
Volthawk
Stooping a little to enter the bunkhouse, Agares pauses to look over the workers, his photovisor making it so that the gloom of the bunkhouse doesn't hinder his gaze as he thoughtfully looks from face to face. As Kriger heads to the ladder, Agares calls out   "I will remain here."  .

Until Krieger either returns or runs into trouble on the roof, Agares busies himself by moving through the bunkhouse, looking for...anomalies. If the sniper went down the ladder after firing - because they were one of the workers, perhaps, or one merely hiding among them - there would be...signs. Yes. They had the advantage of the workers needing sleep, of course, but they would still need to quickly hide the evidence, and that what was hidden could be revealed again. Yes. As he works, he speaks freely.   "An assassin used the roof of this building to attempt to kill the raven. They failed. We are here to find them. Before any of you feel the need to protest, it is pointless - perhaps you are all innocent, perhaps you are all ignorant, perhaps they did not escape this way...but 'perhaps' proves nothing. We will find our prey. You all can cooperate, or become an obstacle to be...broken through."  
 
 Spoiler 

Guess I'll do an Awareness check, TN 44:  (1d100)[ 30 ] 
 
Henry the 57th
Krieger and his trio of chosen guardsmen burst onto the roof mere seconds later, weapons ready and crouched low in combat stances, only to find the dull, flat gunmetal overhead completely deserted. The area is a completely flat assembly of greyish metal planks, surrounded on all sides by a waist-high wall of similarly uninspiring prefabricated manufacture, with nothing more than a light dusting of desert sand to provide any color. There are a handful of sealed or empty metal crates scattered hither and yon, but to the soldiers' eyes by far the most interesting feature is the elongated rifle lying discarded in the dust at the base of the southernmost wall.

Approaching it, carefully to avoid any potential booby traps, Krieger and his followers can see that the longrifle is a sleekly-shaped thing of dull, blackened iron, half again as long as a standard lasgun and fitted with a telescopic scope and what looks to be a strange-single shot ammunition feed. They can clearly observe that absolutely nothing about it, from the oiled metal to matted glass lenses, are bright or reflective in any way, minimizing the risk of exposure due to errant sun glare. While clearly and visibly related to Imperial weapons technology, it's not a gun of any make they've ever seen, nor does it have the serial number or forge stamp typical of the holy creations of the Adeptus Mechanicus, but it is nonetheless clearly well made. It looks, in short, like a weapon that a mere menial indentured laborer should have precious little chance of acquiring.

Down below, as Agares begins his slow, meticulous search of the premises, the frequently-lashed menial workers seem to think better of attempting to oppose the gigantic mutant and his small force of armed men, who promptly take up positions around each of the two entrances, making certain that it is impossible for anyone inside to escape through either. The towering techpriest cuts a formidable figure as he plods his way back and forth across the barracks, drawing most eyes in the room, most of whom show a gratifying amount of fearful respect. None of the men or women in the bunks prove willing to leave their beds with so many watchful eyes and guns trained on them, with only a few muttering curses under their breath.

 
 Spoiler: Agares 
You notice, as your enhanced vision sweeps over the generally dazed, annoyed, and frightened faces of the chattel, that at least one of them appears to still be asleep in spite of the sudden noise, face mostly buried in a starchy white pillow where you can't see. However, there are noticeable beads of perspiration running down the back of the man's neck, which seems rather incongruous to you.
 


Meanwhile, Overseer Killenover has just long enough to cry out, a blubbering, incoherent plea for mercy emerging from his lips just before his body begins to all but implode in on itself. The process of his flesh crumpling like a tin can is mercifully brief, but judging from the amount of screaming and flailing he does, profoundly unpleasant. His bloody, mangled remains hang in the air for several seconds, giving the assembled soldiers and administrative personnel a good look at the pile of bloody meat known formerly as their superior, before flopping down onto the scarlet carpeting with a wet squelch. Rich, dark red blood and leaking viscera begin spreading over the expensive decor almost immediately.

Captain Ravenholm watches the Overseer die with a calm, imperious expression on her face. Even as the twitching, mutilated corpse of her former subordinate is hitting the ground, she walks unhurriedly behind what was formerly the man's desk and takes his seat for herself, sitting tall and proud in the chair just a little bit oversized for her. Her gaze sweeps over the improvised force occupying the office, eventually settling on one seemingly random Hyzian guardsman.

 "You,"  she says, the man hastening to tear his gaze from the Overseer's corpse and step forward.  "Go find someone to clean up that mess. Quickly, before it starts to stain."  The soldier hurriedly bows his head, then all but shoves his way through the stupefied looking mob of fellow warriors and office menials now pressing themselves as far towards the opposite wall as they reasonably can. He breaks out into an outright run the second he is able to pass back through the portal leading out.

 "I've had quite enough of delays and incompetence from this plac,"  the Rogue Trader announces to the remaining minions.  "No more Overseers. I'm taking direct command of this operation, starting tonight."  She folds her hands together, leaning forward across the desk, her vivid purple eyes seeming to pierce the souls of everyone present.  "And my first order is: tell me  why  it is I emerged from the xenos labyrinth to find myself abandoned by every last one of you." 

A visible shudder passes throughout the office's confined space, with the temperature seeming to perceptibly drop. A few of the iron-masked soldiers risk nervous side glances at one another, doubtless envying the messenger. One of them nudges someone else forward with the butt of his lasgun, all but clubbing the poor administrative assistant into the firing line.

 "W-We thought you w-were d-d-dead..."  Overseer Killenvor's former secretary, a rather attractive-looking, black-haired young woman just manages to squeak out, her head bowed and scrupulously avoiding any eye contact with the Rogue Trader

Captain Ravenholm's frowns at her.  "And why,"  she asks in a cold tone,  "might that be?" 
  "M-M-My lady..."   the girl squeaks again, not daring to look up at her mistress.  "Y-You... w-w-w-we..."  she swallows audibly.  "Th-this is the f-first we've s-seen of your for m-more than two m-months." 
DrK
 Krieger 

Atop the roof Krieger surveys the scene and crouches down beside the fancy looking rifle as he scans around the area looking for signs of tracks that may have suggested where the would be assassin has fled.

 Survival  (1d100)[ 33 ]  base TN 30  

Whether he finds anything or not he'll heft up the rifle and examine the weapon carefully as he admires the piece and tries to fathom if its energy or kinetic in its methodology. A glance at the men,  "Secure the roof, one of you fetch the Psyker."  He add the latter hoping that Jay would be able to use some sort of psychic sleuthing to detect the impression of the shooter somehow with his witchcaft
Volthawk
Agares stops when he notices the 'sleeping' man. As he suspected, the prey hiding among the masses. Good. That gave him the advantage. He walks closer to the bed in question, pausing to assess the situation, position himself correctly and run the situation through his implants, before striking out with one of his mechadendrites, trying to grab the sleeper with it.

 
 Spoiler 

Mechanically, Agares is taking a Full Aim action and trying to activate his Logis Implant, then trying to grapple. Since that's a turn's worth of actions that aren't actively hostile but might let the guy on that Agares is focusing on him, I suppose he does have the chance to react if he realises and decides to break cover first.

Logis Implant Tech-Use (TN 90):  (1d100)[ 33 ] 
Toughness check vs Fatigue (TN 80):  (1d100)[ 69 ] 

If he stays playing asleep, then a grapple:
WS 69/79 (WS 49 + 20 aim, potential +10 Logis Implant):  (1d100)[ 73 ] 

As I understand it, strength tests will only matter once he tries to resist, but for reference the manipulator mechadendrite gives +20 once they do matter.
 
The Glyphstone
When the armsman finds Jay, he checks to ensure the Captain is still safely secure indoors before leaving her side and going to attend Kreiger's findings.

 "The Magos may be able to tell you something about this weapon, but its machine spirit is silent to me and I lack the gift of compelling it to speak. If we find a suspect, I may have better success in the interrogation." 
Henry the 57th
Up atop the roof, Krieger finds that there is little apparent evidence of where exactly the assassin might have fled to, whether over the side or down the ladders, as the swirling sands have been tossed everywhere by the winds and the oily gunmetal surface itself offers the warrior little in the way of clues. Upon determining this, he dispatches one of his three Hyzians to fetch the Lady Captain's pet psyker, while he examines the attempted murder weapon.

The blackened iron, at the very least, is more yielding. Clearly based on some pattern of Imperial stubgun, it has a single, elongated firing chamber obviously made to accept a much longer, much thinner form of solid ammunition than any standard stub round. Krieger's mind flashes back to the oily black crystal jutting out of Sergeant Heylo's neck mere minutes before. Curiously, if there is a way to load in more than one round of ammunition at a time it isn't readily apparent, as no magazine or space for one exists. It seems very bizarre to him that someone so obviously skilled in the arts of gunsmithing outside the parameters of the holy STC patterns would neglect something so obviously important.

Down below, Agares pounces on the menial worker apparently feigning sleep, who lets out a sudden yelp as mechanical arms almost as thick as his waist seize him by the base of his neck, easily pinning him face-down onto his own bed. His bronzed muscles are lean and well-defined, a legacy of months of hard labor in the desert sun, but wholly inadequate to the task of defeating such a holy representative of the Omnissiah in terms of strength.

 "Let me go, let me go!"  he screams, squirming as best he can in the hulking cybernetic mutant's grip, which is not particularly well.  "What the hell is this?! I know men in the Enforcers, you can't think you'll get away with this!"  While his struggle is certainly futile in terms of actually breaking free, it certainly is succeeding in drawing the gaze of the remainder of the menials, who mostly either look nervous themselves or glare at the techpriest.  "Help!"  the man screams.  "Janus, Xaphia, Carlor! Someone, help!" 

With so many iron-masked soldiers already spread out throughout the bunkhouse, no one moves to answer him.
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger slings the xeno weapon onto his shoulder and slides down the ladder back into the bunk house. he looks around warily and pulls free a bolt pistol, held low just in case menial tries something stupid.  "Caught a person of interest there Magos?"  he ask Agares eyeing the scene. At man's screams he shakes his head, nodding to the door.  "Secure the door. No-one leaves till the traitor and dragged out of here by his heels to face the Lady's Justice." 
Volthawk
The prey's claim of status and connection to the Enforcers confuses Agares a little, enough that his response is remarkably succinct and direct by his standards.   "Why would you think they, or anyone else here, would scare me at all?"   He holds that position, looking at the man in the grip with a slight tilt to his head, for a few more moments before Krieger's return snaps him out of it.

Turning to face Krieger, dragging the worker along with him, Agares nods.   "One who hid from us, yes. Feigned sleep, hoping to evade us with nonaction rather than speed. A curious approach. But a suspicious one, which makes him appear like our prey, yes? If the one who tried to kill the raven did not escape from above, but came down here...this may be our prey. Perhaps. One who lay in wait among the masses waiting, lurking, until our return, striking and then hiding among the blessed ignorants once again."   While the somewhat rambling speech growls out from under Agares' hood, he keeps the man restrained with a mechadendrite and a hulking arm, but thrusts him forward for Krieger to get a better look at him.
Henry the 57th
 "Sirs,"  one of the Hyzian guardsmen that had accompanied Krieger and Agares in their brief pursuit steps up, his lasgun tightly gripped in  both hands, bayonet affixed, slowly tracking it over the crowd of alternatively nervous and resentful-looking serfs.  "Is that man the only one you want, or should we round up the rest of 'em?" 
 "Her Ladyship's probably gonna be right cross with the whole lot of 'em, lettin' a traitor bed down with 'em like this,"  a second soldier adds, even his iron mask failing to conceal the traces of amusement in his tone.  "Wouldn't want any of 'em scatterin', would we?" 
 "You can't do that!"  one of the serfs protests indignantly, artificial light glinting off her bald, bronzed scalp.  "We didn't do anything wrong! We're loyal workers, honest servants of Her Ladyship!"  she looks around for support, getting a few reluctant nods from her fellows, none of whom have yet to fully rise from their beds.  "I dunno what's got the whole lot of you so worked up, but we've got nothing to do with any of it!" 

Meanwhile, back in the office formerly belonging to Overseer Killenvor, two more men find themselves summoned to stand before Captain Ravenholm. When they arrive, the still somewhat dusty and disheveled Rogue Trader is seated behind the former Overseer's beautiful wooden desk, her hands folded ominously in front of her and her face dark. Six iron-masked Hyzian guardsmen are posted throughout the well-appointed chamber, including two directly behind her, while a pair of very nervous-looking indentured laborers are scrubbing frantically at a dark red stain on the already rich crimson carpet, and seemingly failing to make much headway.

 "Van Dahl,"  Captain Ravenholm acknowledges the first of the two without moving, or even so much as a nod.  "Du Kane."  The second man through the door similarly receives no apparent courtesy from the dynastic scion.  "Come in, now." 

As the two men step inside to meet with their commander

 "I'm not finding myself in talkative mood tonight,"  she begins, a few flecks of desert sand shaking loose from her armor and coat as she leans forward.  "So I'll make this quick. The overseer disappointed me one time too many. I'm taking over direct control of this camp and dealing with the consequences of his incompetence."  The two bondsmen kneeling on the carpet seem to, if anything, press their foamy brushes even harder into vivid rug, scrubbing like their lives depend on it.

 "But that doesn't mean we're slacking off on the maze,"  she continues.  "Not for a moment. I've seen the smallest hints of what's inside, and I   know   it's worth more than everything and everyone in this place by a thousandfold. And I've seen what's been keeping these superstitious idiots at bay for months,"  she snorts disdainfully.  "Grinding stone and a few withered corpses. Parlor tricks and amateurish alien witchcraft. I've met more intimidating hive gangs." 

Captain Ravenholm leans further forward in her chair, her face growing noticeably more shadowed.  "And I've had quite enough of it. We're moving in again come dawn's first light, and we're doing it  properly  this time. Ten full squads all at once. Flamers, melta, armored support. We're going to lock down whatever entranceway is there and the immediate vicinity. purge it with flame and prayer, fortify it, and then delve further, clearing and looting the place one chamber at a time if we have to." 
 "And that,"  the disheveled woman briefly eyes up the two men standing before her,  "Is where you two come in. I'm remaining behind for this expedition, to clean up Killenvor's mess,"  she purses her lips.  "I had decided to appoint Jay, Agares, and Huss overall commanders of this expedition - at least  they  had enough steel in spines to accompany me into the depths once before. I can trust them not to run away screaming from the first desiccated husk they run into."  Here the corner of her mouth turns up, if only slightly.  "But after a little thought, I decided their skills weren't enough to cover every situation. Du Kane, you're the best preacher we have on this rock - and probably the only exorcist. If anyone will keep the cowardly dogs pressing forward with fire in their hearts, it's you. And van Dahl, I trust I don't need to explain why a logistical expert will be useful establishing and expanding a forward operating base. Therefore, the two of you will be joining our expedition's other three leaders." 
 "In fact,"  she sits back a bit, unclasping her hands for the first time since the two have been here.  "You'll be joining them tonight. I trust you've already heard of the attempt on my person?"  she doesn't bother waiting for an answer.  "The three of them have already gone to take charge of apprehending the first culprit. I want the two of you to get used to working with them, so go and help those three with bringing the rebellious cur in,  alive ."  She pauses for a moment.  "Tell them what I told you. And tell them that once our shooter is in custody, they're free to spend the next..."  she checks a chronometer.  "Seventeen hours recuperating and making ready however they see fit. I'll want all of you at the front gate come dawn." 

Her intense gaze passes from seneschal to priest, and then back again.  "All of that clear enough for you?" 
DrK
 Krieger 

Kireiger looks at the guardsman.  "Bring them over here one by one. We can question them and find out if they are truly loyal serfs or a wolf in grox's scales like this one."  He heads to where Agares stands and then moves over to the suspicious serf's bunk and begins systematically taking it apart searching for anything suspicious. He keeps an eye on the man and makes sure to keep a pistol in his right hand as he sweeps the things off the bunk and flipped the bed ripping the thin mattress apart.
rax
 "Crystal clear, m'lady" , Tybalt responds.  "However, I fear I would be remiss in my duties if I did not ask about the time dilation you and your party encountered. From our perspective here in the camp, you have been gone almost two months, but I understand that for you it was a much shorter period?" 
 "When  Vigilance  became trapped in the Empyrean, we were gone for over a hundred years. Even if we enter the maze and clear it room by room, it may be a very long and indeterminate time before we are able to deliver any more treasures into your hands. Have you given any thought on how to handle tensions in the camp in the meantime? Not to mention any  financial  pressures?"  he asks Captain Ravenholm with a quick glance at van Dahl when he mentions the financial situation.
Janwin
As Corvin walks into the room upon being summoned, he offers a proper bow to the Lady of the ship, as one would to another raised among the nobility.   "Your Ladyship." 

Upon being addressed, he nods his understanding to the Lady Captain.   "Of course.  If we are to delve back inside, are there any logistical preparations you might recommend to equip our forces or our command squad with?  For example, if it was dark within, it might be prudent for me to see if I can dig into the ship's stores for photo-visors; or if we plan to thoroughly search it for every thing of value, perhaps I might be able to ensure a thorough supply of auspexes to aid in that endeavor." 

Turning his attention to Tybalt's words, he suggests,  "If there is little of value found outside the maze, it may be prudent for morale to relieve the crews outside from laboring tasks.  Men are less likely to revolt or cause problems in regards to pay when they at least aren't being worked for all they are worth.  Leave security, and some staff to maintain operations in the few areas of promise (perhaps under a scientific guise), and allow the remainder "her Ladyships most gracious recreation and relaxation in recognition of their hard work the prior months" back on the ship."   He was pretty sure the suggestion wouldn't be taken, since the laborers were barely worthy of notice, but he figured the suggestion wouldn't hurt; it was amazing what a properly worded and spun action could do for a ship's morale.
Henry the 57th
 
 Originally Posted by DrK 
  Krieger 

Kireiger looks at the guardsman.  "Bring them over here one by one. We can question them and find out if they are truly loyal serfs or a wolf in grox's scales like this one."  He heads to where Agares stands and then moves over to the suspicious serf's bunk and begins systematically taking it apart searching for anything suspicious. He keeps an eye on the man and makes sure to keep a pistol in his right hand as he sweeps the things off the bunk and flipped the bed ripping the thin mattress apart. 
 

 "You can't just do-"  the one serf who had spoken out begins, right before one of the Hyzian guardsman walks almost casually over to her and slams the butt of his rifle right into her face. The anonymous indentured laborer hits the metal floor beside her bunk with a meaty thunk, a yellowish-white tooth skittering across the steel a few feet. She curls up into a ball and moans as the soldier keeps right on walking, blood trickling down her chin.

 "Right then,"  another iron-masked soldier says as the first stalks along the rows of standardized bunks, brandishing rifle and bayonet.  "Up with ya. Form a line." 

Whimpering slightly, doing her best to wipe away the crimson on her chin even while tears of pain trickle down her flushed face, the lowly serf uses the bunk beside her to pull herself slowly to her feet, trembling all the while. She covers her mouth with one hand and says nothing more, shuffling meekly to a spot between the rows of bunks and the one of the blockhouse entrances, as indicated by the second soldier. All across the bunkhouse, the glares intensify noticeably, the menial peon throwing what little psychic hostility they dare at their betters, or at the guardsmen who do their bidding. Still, in the face of guns and blades, none of these unarmed, untrained serviles are anywhere close to brave enough to try anything. Thirty nine or so men and women, most half-dressed in simple white or grey sleepwear, are herded like cattle away from their beds and into a line not far from exit. The Lady Captain's troops surround them on all sides, but do nothing more, waiting for further instructions.

 
 Spoiler: Krieger 
Roll an Awareness test to see if you spot anything amidst the serf's paltry personal effects, no penalty.
 


 
 Originally Posted by rax 
  "Crystal clear, m'lady" , Tybalt responds.  "However, I fear I would be remiss in my duties if I did not ask about the time dilation you and your party encountered. From our perspective here in the camp, you have been gone almost two months, but I understand that for you it was a much shorter period?" 
 "When  Vigilance  became trapped in the Empyrean, we were gone for over a hundred years. Even if we enter the maze and clear it room by room, it may be a very long and indeterminate time before we are able to deliver any more treasures into your hands. Have you given any thought on how to handle tensions in the camp in the meantime? Not to mention any  financial  pressures?"  he asks Captain Ravenholm with a quick glance at van Dahl when he mentions the financial situation. 
 

 "From our perspective, the entire expedition lasted no more than a few hours,"  Ravenholm tells du Kane when he asks.  "Internal chronometers didn't show any issues with time dilation while inside the maze." 
 "And of course I have,"  the Rogue Trader says flatly, looking rather testily at the priest.  "The first thing I'm going to do is tear out the roots of any conspiracies against House Ravenholm, the second is cleanse my administration of incompetence that's been festering here,"  here she glances over at the serfs still putting their backs into scrubbing her carpet clean,  "and the third is make it clear to the camp that  no one  is getting off this planet until my investment has been properly recouped."  Her voice becomes noticeably colder.  "In the event that I'm no longer able to periodically confirm my continued presence on the planet, the shipmaster now has orders to take my ship back to Imperial space and proceed to locate House Ravenholm's next heir. No shuttles from the planet are to be accepted." 

She sits back a little.  "In the meantime, I'll be bringing down additional Hyzian regiments from the ship to reinforce the expedition and ensure order is maintained throughout our dig site." 

 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
 As Corvin walks into the room upon being summoned, he offers a proper bow to the Lady of the ship, as one would to another raised among the nobility.   "Your Ladyship." 

Upon being addressed, he nods his understanding to the Lady Captain.   "Of course.  If we are to delve back inside, are there any logistical preparations you might recommend to equip our forces or our command squad with?  For example, if it was dark within, it might be prudent for me to see if I can dig into the ship's stores for photo-visors; or if we plan to thoroughly search it for every thing of value, perhaps I might be able to ensure a thorough supply of auspexes to aid in that endeavor." 

Turning his attention to Tybalt's words, he suggests,  "If there is little of value found outside the maze, it may be prudent for morale to relieve the crews outside from laboring tasks.  Men are less likely to revolt or cause problems in regards to pay when they at least aren't being worked for all they are worth.  Leave security, and some staff to maintain operations in the few areas of promise (perhaps under a scientific guise), and allow the remainder "her Ladyships most gracious recreation and relaxation in recognition of their hard work the prior months" back on the ship."   He was pretty sure the suggestion wouldn't be taken, since the laborers were barely worthy of notice, but he figured the suggestion wouldn't hurt; it was amazing what a properly worded and spun action could do for a ship's morale. 
 

 "It grows dark at night, or when the tunnels delve beneath the surface."  The Lady Captain explains.  "So yes, photo visors would be a wise choice. The only tangible foes we found were withered corpses, for those I intend gouts of sacred promethium. For the less tangible,"  she nods, very slightly, at her priest.  "We will rely on the blessing of the God-Emperor." 
 "Once I've properly purged this place, I plan to stand down much of our labor core for a short time, until a beachhead within the maze is properly secured,"  she tells van Dahl.  "Then we'll be rotating serfs in and out of those zones we are able to lock down, to guard against xenos mental contagion. The labor committed the exterior pits will remain minimal. If they were going to find anything useful there, they would have months ago, but it wouldn't do to have them completely inactive for too long."" 
Janwin
As the Lady Captain lays out her plan, Corvin nods thoughtfully.   "Excellent, your Ladyship.  I will submit the proper requisitions with the Quartermaster corps for any photo-visors we have at our company's disposal, and will join the remainder of the command crew as ordered." 

Assuming that she does not stop him from leaving, he makes his way to a ship vox in order to place the requisition order for as many photo-visors as the ship has available on hand so that he can best equip the 10 squads going into the maze, and then makes his way to the reported location of Krieger and Agares.
DrK
 Kreiger 


Kreiger nods in approval at the guards action.  "Know your place"  he snaps at the serf curled up on the floor. Then he turns back to the paltry bunk and tears it apart searching for clues

 
 Spoiler: Awareness 

 (1d100)[ 55 ]  TN 50
 
rax
 
 Originally Posted by Henry the 57th 
  "From our perspective, the entire expedition lasted no more than a few hours,"  Ravenholm tells du Kane when he asks.  "Internal chronometers didn't show any issues with time dilation while inside the maze." 
 "And of course I have,"  the Rogue Trader says flatly, looking rather testily at the priest.  "The first thing I'm going to do is tear out the roots of any conspiracies against House Ravenholm, the second is cleanse my administration of incompetence that's been festering here,"  here she glances over at the serfs still putting their backs into scrubbing her carpet clean,  "and the third is make it clear to the camp that  no one  is getting off this planet until my investment has been properly recouped."  Her voice becomes noticeably colder.  "In the event that I'm no longer able to periodically confirm my continued presence on the planet, the shipmaster now has orders to take my ship back to Imperial space and proceed to locate House Ravenholm's next heir. No shuttles from the planet are to be accepted." 

She sits back a little.  "In the meantime, I'll be bringing down additional Hyzian regiments from the ship to reinforce the expedition and ensure order is maintained throughout our dig site."  
 

 Tybalt nods along with the Lady Captain's explanation of her plans.  "Sound thinking for sure, m'lady. I understand that there have been no earlier reports of time dilation, so perhaps this was a one off occurrence. May I ask, did anyone in your party attempt to communicate with the camp while you were inside?"  he asks.
The Glyphstone
Jay watches silently from the doorway to the barracks, waiting to be called upon to aid the interrogation of whichever hapless serf is deemed most guilty. Mechastopheles curls around his shoulders, hissing banefully at the closest workers.
Henry the 57th
 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
 As the Lady Captain lays out her plan, Corvin nods thoughtfully.   "Excellent, your Ladyship.  I will submit the proper requisitions with the Quartermaster corps for any photo-visors we have at our company's disposal, and will join the remainder of the command crew as ordered." 

Assuming that she does not stop him from leaving, he makes his way to a ship vox in order to place the requisition order for as many photo-visors as the ship has available on hand so that he can best equip the 10 squads going into the maze, and then makes his way to the reported location of Krieger and Agares. 
 

 "See to it that you do,"  Captain Ravenholm nods curtly, remaining impassive as the logistician takes his leave.

The first leg of Corvin's journey, at least, proves to be refreshingly simple. As word spreads across the camp of Overseer Killenvor's exceptionally gruesome and public execution, everyone is on their best behavior, and absolutely no one wants to be the one to the draw the Rogue Trader's attention right now. The Hyzian Chief Quartermaster, one older gentleman called Nilaan, practically trips over himself in his rush to assure his new superior that, yes, photo-visors for all one hundred guardsmen plus their lordships will be brought out of storage, orbital or otherwise, before the alien sun creeps once more over the horizon, so he swears by the bones of Saint Drusus.

Making his way across the campsite, now blazing with almost painful degrees of sterile white light, with men and women in the re-dyed uniforms of the Imperial Guard rushing this way and that in an ant-like flurry of activity, Corvin soon finds himself at yet another in a long series of indistinct prefabricated blockhouses, this one being used as a bunkhouse. Just passed the doors, he finds almost all of the scared and resentful looking serfs lined up mutely next to the entranceway, surrounded by iron-masked men with bayonets affixed. The lady's pet psyker is waiting there as well, while a little further in the unmistakable hulking, mutated form of Agares is pinning down a further menial drone and Krieger is extracting a small sliver of something from a now-ruined mattress.


 
 Originally Posted by DrK 
  Kreiger 


Kreiger nods in approval at the guards action.  "Know your place"  he snaps at the serf curled up on the floor. Then he turns back to the paltry bunk and tears it apart searching for clues

 
 Spoiler: Awareness 


[roll0] TN 50
 
 
 

Krieger at first discovers little of note among the serf's paltry personal possessions - some prayer beads here, a sun-bleached tunic there, worn playing cards and a precious handful of lho-sticks. Nothing much in his bags, then. It's only when he begins tearing into the matrass itself, much to the protests of the helpless man still pinned in Agares' unyielding metal grip, that he uncovers a small slit right along the bottom of it. Fishing around inside the cheap, mass-produced synthetic stuffing of the bed, the hardened soldier digs out a small shard of crystal. Black and golden in color, it is cold to the touch, covered in an oily sheen, and unpleasant to gaze upon. Krieger finds his eyes almost reflexively un-focusing whenever he tries to look directly at it.


 
 Originally Posted by rax 
 Tybalt nods along with the Lady Captain's explanation of her plans.  "Sound thinking for sure, m'lady. I understand that there have been no earlier reports of time dilation, so perhaps this was a one off occurrence. May I ask, did anyone in your party attempt to communicate with the camp while you were inside?"  he asks. 
 

 "We did not,"  she answers.  "It was assumed signals would be blocked from that deeply inside, considering how impervious the structure has proven even to starship-level Mechanicus augers. The machine spirits seem to mislike that xenos tomb." 

 
 Originally Posted by The Glyphstone 
 Jay watches silently from the doorway to the barracks, waiting to be called upon to aid the interrogation of whichever hapless serf is deemed most guilty. Mechastopheles curls around his shoulders, hissing banefully at the closest workers. 
 

 
 Spoiler: Jay 
When Krieger discovers the piece of crystal inside the serf's bed, you can test Psyniscience at -10 to see if you can pick out anything peculiar about it with your witchsight.
 
DrK
 Krieger 

Krieger holds the sliver aloft, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. He levels the pistol at the bed owner and nods to the guards.  "Secure this one as tightly as possible"  then after looking at the sliver he quickly realises it exceeds anything form of technological or xeno-archaeological training that he may have. Looking about he offers the sliver to Agares,  "Magister, please would you be able to look at this thing. I do not know what it is." 

As the psyker arrives Krieger grins a wicked grin to the prisoner.  "You can speak out loud or the Telepathica will tear it from your mind" 
rax
 
 Originally Posted by Henry the 57th 
  "We did not,"  she answers.  "It was assumed signals would be blocked from that deeply inside, considering how impervious the structure has proven even to starship-level Mechanicus augers. The machine spirits seem to mislike that xenos tomb."  
 

  "That would not surprise me,"  Tybalt responds.  "However, it may still be wise to attempt to set up some form of communication with the base camp while we are inside the maze. That way we can keep you apprised of events and hopefully we will each be able to detect if there is renewed time dilation. It would be...wasteful...were we to return to camp and find nought but ashes and dust,"  he adds.

 "With your permission, m'lady, I shall speak to your Magos about this,"  Tybalt finishes.
Volthawk
Now that the guards are in place to handle his prisoner, Agares unceremoniously drops him to the floor as Krieger presents him with the xenos artefact, using the mechadendrite to gently grab the item and bring it before his eyes. Some of its mysteries were immediately revealed in his mind, but others would need more thought...

  "Ah. Yes. The second piece of the puzzle, yes. The second abomination. We have seen this already, taking the life of one of the raven's feathers. The weaponry of those who died but still remain..."   His gaze lifts from the crystal to the weapon slung over Krieger's shoulder, and he gestures for it with a hand.   "That is the first. The weaponry of man, violated in order to accept the second abomination. It requires examination, communion with what remains of its spirit, understanding..."  
 
 Spoiler 

I assume Forbidden Lore (Xenos) is the appropriate skill here to figure out anything else about the thing beyond the obvious:  (1d100)[ 81 ] , TN 80

As for the gun...it's modified Imperial weaponry, so just Tech-Use or maybe Common Lore (Tech)?
 (1d100)[ 29 ] , TN 90 if Tech-Use or TN 60 for CL (Tech)
 
Janwin
As Corvin enters the hab unit, he takes a moment to take a look around and take in what is occurring, and then he nods to the psyker waiting in the doorway.  He doesn't introduce himself yet, in order to not interrupt the interrogation and provide a moment's respite to the accused.

He does spare a curious glimpse at the strange sliver held aloft by his new compatriot, however.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Will attempt a Forbidden Lore: Xenos in case maybe it's something that Corvin has seen before:  (1d100)[ 43 ]  vs TN 62
 
Henry the 57th
 
 Originally Posted by DrK 
  Krieger 

Krieger holds the sliver aloft, a gleam of triumph in his eyes. He levels the pistol at the bed owner and nods to the guards.  "Secure this one as tightly as possible"  then after looking at the sliver he quickly realises it exceeds anything form of technological or xeno-archaeological training that he may have. Looking about he offers the sliver to Agares,  "Magister, please would you be able to look at this thing. I do not know what it is." 

As the psyker arrives Krieger grins a wicked grin to the prisoner.  "You can speak out loud or the Telepathica will tear it from your mind"  
 

The prisoner, already rather uncooperative, outright lashes out like a trapped animal at Krieger's words, struggling mightily against Agares grip with everything his work-hardened muscles can bring to bear. It is nonetheless a futile effort, and serves only to coat him in yet more sweat. A lowly serf stands no chance in a wrestling match with the hulking mutant acolyte of the Omnissiah. He succeeds only in tiring himself out.


 
 Originally Posted by rax 
  "That would not surprise me,"  Tybalt responds.  "However, it may still be wise to attempt to set up some form of communication with the base camp while we are inside the maze. That way we can keep you apprised of events and hopefully we will each be able to detect if there is renewed time dilation. It would be...wasteful...were we to return to camp and find nought but ashes and dust,"  he adds.

 "With your permission, m'lady, I shall speak to your Magos about this,"  Tybalt finishes. 
 

 "Permission is granted, in perpetua,"  she replies, nodding her head briefly.  "Go, and do what needs to be done." 

 
 Originally Posted by Volthawk 
 Now that the guards are in place to handle his prisoner, Agares unceremoniously drops him to the floor as Krieger presents him with the xenos artefact, using the mechadendrite to gently grab the item and bring it before his eyes. Some of its mysteries were immediately revealed in his mind, but others would need more thought...

  "Ah. Yes. The second piece of the puzzle, yes. The second abomination. We have seen this already, taking the life of one of the raven's feathers. The weaponry of those who died but still remain..."   His gaze lifts from the crystal to the weapon slung over Krieger's shoulder, and he gestures for it with a hand.   "That is the first. The weaponry of man, violated in order to accept the second abomination. It requires examination, communion with what remains of its spirit, understanding..."  
 
 Spoiler 

I assume Forbidden Lore (Xenos) is the appropriate skill here to figure out anything else about the thing beyond the obvious: [roll0], TN 80

As for the gun...it's modified Imperial weaponry, so just Tech-Use or maybe Common Lore (Tech)?
[roll1], TN 90 if Tech-Use or TN 60 for CL (Tech)
 
 
 

A pair of Hyzians step forward to seize the lowly laborer, hoisting him between themselves and pinning his arms behind his back while Agares busies himself with his examinations.

 
 Spoiler: Agares 
You don't notice anything about the crystal beyond the immediately obvious - that it's unpleasant to look at, and is visually rather similar to other crystals that have been found within the maze.

As to the gun, though, that you find more to your tastes. It appears to be a modified form of stub-style sniper rifle, with a number of hidden points across the weapon that make it easy to disassemble and reassemble in great haste, probably could be broken down or put back together inside thirty seconds with a little bit of practice. The most intriguing part, from your perspective, is the mechanism that has replaced what should ordinarily be a clip. It's a very curious little device that seems set up to hold one irregularly-shaped object in place, then core out the center of that object and feed that core into the firing section. It seems like a very bizarre method of generating ammunition to you, seeing as the only way to get more than one shot in the chamber in anything resembling a timely manner would be to position something in the holding mechanism that rapidly physically regenerated itself if hollowed out... then your eyes wander back to the unpleasant looking crystal Krieger found.

In game terms:

 ??? Rifle 
Class: Basic
Range: 150m
RoF: S/-/-
Damage: 1d10+7 I
Pen: 5
Clip: 1
Rld: Full (No action required if loaded with the appropriate crystal, but Rapid Reload and similar talents have no effect)
Weight: 4kg
Special: Reliable, Accurate, Tearing, Toxic (Last two require the appropriate ammo)

It's simple and intuitive to use, so no special training is required.
 


 
 Originally Posted by Janwin 
 As Corvin enters the hab unit, he takes a moment to take a look around and take in what is occurring, and then he nods to the psyker waiting in the doorway.  He doesn't introduce himself yet, in order to not interrupt the interrogation and provide a moment's respite to the accused.

He does spare a curious glimpse at the strange sliver held aloft by his new compatriot, however.

 
 Spoiler: OOC 
Will attempt a Forbidden Lore: Xenos in case maybe it's something that Corvin has seen before: [roll0] vs TN 62
 
 
 

 
 Spoiler: Corvin 
Your eyes hurt the longer than you look at the crystal, but it occurs to you as you do so that the glyphs etched upon it are not of the same sort as those engraved all over the interior of the maze-city, or most of the artifacts removed from within or scattered outside. In fact, to your memory they seem the most similar to those found on the odd greenish-blue sphere that had been found inside, and which you had heard from a Magos that Jay had identified as being of considerably more recent make.
 
rax
 "At once, m'lady,"  Tybalt answers, then makes his way to the hab unit where the others are gathered.  "Astropath,"  he greets Jay as he enters, but otherwise he follows Corvin's example and merely observes the scene.