Dungeon Crusade Adventures IC

Stories about games that you run and/or have played in.

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Maxus
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Dungeon Crusade Adventures IC

Post by Maxus »

Even beset on war by all sides, the Imperium's glorious march to bring the light of the Emperor to all the galaxy carries on. A few hundred years ago, this planet had been detected on a Mechanicus explorator's flyby. The Augur readings had noted several traits: Able to support life, home to some sort of primitive civilization, and rather heavy in one of the Imperium's favorite metals: Adamantium. Of course, the locals called it Adamantine.

The world was named Kressel and tagged for colonization, mining and production with remarkably aclarity for the Imperium's bureaucratic inertia. It's been four years since the Imperium made formal planetfall, and the process of coring out a few mountains, to a manmade mountain named Mons Imperialis continued unabated. Some scant hints had been found that suggested that long ago, Kressel had undergone a try at Imperial colonization. The local human populace hadn't had any inquisitional purges, and were warming to the idea of the Imperium's offer of protection and its levels of disproportionate response concerning 'demons' and 'orks'.

This acceptance had reached the point that you are here, in the city of Porthmeor, a port far, far away from Mons Imperialis. You've been stationed here in a quickly-built garrison on the landward side of town, but now the populace needs Imperial aid.

And you drew the short straws, thus being hand-picked by the Emperor himself for the glory of the Imperium.

------------------------------------
It is on a cold, fretful night that you find yourselves in the heart of foul Millers Court: a distritct of crumbling tenements and narrow streets, of rat-haunted alleys and seedy taverns, a place that reeks of death and decay and hopelessness.

Of all the grim corners in Millers Court, none could possibly be grimmer than the one you find yourself standing on tonight. You're surrounded by rows of warren-like homes and shops, each one filthier and more oppressive than the next. All sane people avoid the area, for the melancholy spirit of Mari Kell is said to haunt the corner in death much as she did in life as a "lady of the night." She was the last victim of the Ripper's horrific spree of a century before, and hasn't found any solace since. Mari's hovel stands at the end of the alley before you.

In a manner, your business is tied to Mari's fate. The Ripper is back, and with a vengeance. His tally is up to five, men this time as well as streetwalkers. Your search begins here, to the alley before you and Mari's hovel.

With a bitter, drizzle-soaked wind chilling your clothing and armor, you find it appropriate that the story should begin anew where it ended off a century ago
Last edited by Maxus on Thu Oct 09, 2014 7:57 am, edited 2 times in total.
He jumps like a damned dragoon, and charges into battle fighting rather insane monsters with little more than his bare hands and rather nasty spell effects conjured up solely through knowledge and the local plantlife. He unerringly knows where his goal lies, he breathes underwater and is untroubled by space travel, seems to have no limits to his actual endurance and favors killing his enemies by driving both boots square into their skull. His agility is unmatched, and his strength legendary, able to fling about a turtle shell big enough to contain a man with enough force to barrel down a near endless path of unfortunates.

--The horror of Mario

Zak S, Zak Smith, Dndwithpornstars, Zak Sabbath. He is a terrible person and a hack at writing and art. His cultural contributions are less than Justin Bieber's, and he's a shitmuffin. Go go gadget Googlebomb!
Grek
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Post by Grek »

Tribune Dalus-697 sneers into the wind, wiping rain from the lenses of his bionic eyes with the corner of his cloak. Of all the irrational beliefs, this foolish heresy about ghosts annoyed him the most, and not just because it meant that he had to go out in the rain and let his bionics rust. It was more than mere superstition, it was an affront to reason. No doubt it would prove to be a criminal disguised as the dead woman, or perhaps an illegal hologram projector he could rescue. Whistling a merry, if somewhat robotic tune at the thought, he turns to examine the hovel, looking for anything out of the ordinary.

Spot Check: 1d20+4=9
Chamomile wrote:Grek is a national treasure.
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Maxus
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Post by Maxus »

Spot check results: There's a building on the end of the street on the left, and one somewhat closer on your right. It's harder to see more detail because the rain is being blown towards you and keeps getting in your eyes.
He jumps like a damned dragoon, and charges into battle fighting rather insane monsters with little more than his bare hands and rather nasty spell effects conjured up solely through knowledge and the local plantlife. He unerringly knows where his goal lies, he breathes underwater and is untroubled by space travel, seems to have no limits to his actual endurance and favors killing his enemies by driving both boots square into their skull. His agility is unmatched, and his strength legendary, able to fling about a turtle shell big enough to contain a man with enough force to barrel down a near endless path of unfortunates.

--The horror of Mario

Zak S, Zak Smith, Dndwithpornstars, Zak Sabbath. He is a terrible person and a hack at writing and art. His cultural contributions are less than Justin Bieber's, and he's a shitmuffin. Go go gadget Googlebomb!
Koumei
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Post by Koumei »

Corporal Agatha tries to not let the weather bother her - after all, on Armageddon, it was rarely water raining down, usually ash, sparks, mortars and worse. But still, it's uncomfortable, soaking through the armour with ease.

"So, clearly we need to deal with this 'Ripper' before people calm down, even if we can take care of the so-called haunting. My guess is this is a completely different Ripper to the last one - were we dealing with one of the long-lived residents of this world, why would there be such a long quiet period? But at any rate, regardless of this Mari Kell tale, it seems our real target is the Ripper.

...still, should we look into her abode? Try to find some kind of clue? Who knows, if we find someone dressed as her ghost there, that's half of our mission complete before closing time."
Count Arioch the 28th wrote:There is NOTHING better than lesbians. Lesbians make everything better.
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Post by radthemad4 »

Kale isn't bothered by the rain. Despite being cold and wet, it's a new experience at least. Or at least it seems like a new experience. He didn't remember much about his life before the Imperium had shown him the light.

"We shouldn't completely dismiss the possibility of a specter. I've heard there are agents of the Chaos Gods in this world, and that there are places where the warp bleeds through. Still, let's investigate further before drawing any conclusions."

Retroactive Gather Information if possible: (3)+7=10
Knowledge (Local) for general info on this part of town: (19)+6=25
Search (whereever we end up looking): (9)+6=15
Last edited by radthemad4 on Thu Oct 09, 2014 6:17 am, edited 2 times in total.
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Post by radthemad4 »

"Before heading to the hovel, let's investigate the Bakery at the end of the street. The Baker may have seen or heard something. We could also try the inn to our right. Mari Kell's place is at the end of the alley beside it."
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Post by Grek »

"Agreed. I find it highly unlikely that there is a warp entity behind this superstitious nonsense, and the unreasoning panic of these colonists is no doubt doing more harm to adamantium extraction quotas than any mere murderer. May the Omnissiah guide us to truth, productivity and a dry place to plan our next move."
Chamomile wrote:Grek is a national treasure.
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Post by Dean »

Riley speaks loudly over the whipping rain "The robot's idea sounds brilliant to me. Lets look in the Inn, and we can hit the Bakers after we've spent a few minutes somewhere that isn't drenched and frozen"
DSMatticus wrote:Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I am filled with an unfathomable hatred.
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Maxus
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Post by Maxus »

The inn was once luxurious. Time and weather and neglect have brought it down considerably. The inside is dimly lit with cheap tallow candles, and the place has leaned considerably on its foundations; the floor is a half-meter out of level. The signboard inside the door calls it the "Cam Inn."

Everyone in here suddenly scowls when they see you four. On this miserably rain-chilled night, there's only four patrons and the bartender, all of them rough-looking natives. The Imperium's reach has extended enough that they recognize what they see, but it seems they do not like the view very much.
He jumps like a damned dragoon, and charges into battle fighting rather insane monsters with little more than his bare hands and rather nasty spell effects conjured up solely through knowledge and the local plantlife. He unerringly knows where his goal lies, he breathes underwater and is untroubled by space travel, seems to have no limits to his actual endurance and favors killing his enemies by driving both boots square into their skull. His agility is unmatched, and his strength legendary, able to fling about a turtle shell big enough to contain a man with enough force to barrel down a near endless path of unfortunates.

--The horror of Mario

Zak S, Zak Smith, Dndwithpornstars, Zak Sabbath. He is a terrible person and a hack at writing and art. His cultural contributions are less than Justin Bieber's, and he's a shitmuffin. Go go gadget Googlebomb!
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Post by Dean »

Riley will make his way to the bar.
"How ya doin fella's, my god it's bitter cold out there. Gimme a shot of whatever these boys drink. I've seen colder 'n this though. There was this one time I was out with a company that was searching for Nids on this planet that was frigid, just genuinely frozen, and the whole company had to take these little boats which weren't much more than tin cans across this huge icy river we were at. Now I was in the last boat with just the Sergeant, a big fat fellow we called Ox and me and we had to wait til every other boat'd gone before we could even kick off. It was so cold if I'd stayed another minute I think my balls woulda popped back up in my body. The worst part of it was when we got back this writer who worked for the Uplifting Primer was circulating this piece around about the inspirational speech the Sergeant had spoken before we kicked off all. All about bringing the light of the Emperor to the many and how the Imperial Spirit raises up the smallest man and so on. Bullshit! Lemme tell you boys something, from someone who was there the last words the Sergeant said before kicking off where: "Ox get your fat ass in the boat and lets hope you don't sink it"

Riley attempts to amuse and disarm the local yokels while, more importantly, keeping the patrons attention on him while the party questions the Bartender.

(Note: That story is a lie, you can do a bluff check if you think it matters)
DSMatticus wrote:Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I am filled with an unfathomable hatred.
radthemad4
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Post by radthemad4 »

Kale follows.

"Greetings. We're looking for the copycat Ripper and investigating this whole ghost phenomenon. If anyone here can help out with the investigation, they will be handsomely rewarded by the Imperium."

Rolls:
Diplomacy 24
Sense Motive (Hunch) 10 (failure)
Koumei
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Post by Koumei »

Agatha follows the others in, with a shrug of her shoulders. She's not particularly enthusiastic about the job - or indeed their reception there - but it beats staying idle.

"Never mind being rewarded, they're the ones who live here. If they help us solve it, then those are two problems they don't have to deal with."

She says that loud enough for the locals to hear, but doesn't exactly speak to them. She's aware that her people-skills are lacking, so doesn't want to make things harder. And speaking about people right in front of them is clearly good manners?
Count Arioch the 28th wrote:There is NOTHING better than lesbians. Lesbians make everything better.
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Maxus
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Post by Maxus »

Remarkably, the suspicious faces ease up just a bit after Kale speaks. It might be something to do with that 'reward'.

"Come to fix that, have you?" one of the patrons says. "It was one thing when it was just the hookers gettin' spread all over the street like someone unpackin' a box, but now that that bloody nutter's doing men up..." He shudders.

There's a collective murmur of agreement.
He jumps like a damned dragoon, and charges into battle fighting rather insane monsters with little more than his bare hands and rather nasty spell effects conjured up solely through knowledge and the local plantlife. He unerringly knows where his goal lies, he breathes underwater and is untroubled by space travel, seems to have no limits to his actual endurance and favors killing his enemies by driving both boots square into their skull. His agility is unmatched, and his strength legendary, able to fling about a turtle shell big enough to contain a man with enough force to barrel down a near endless path of unfortunates.

--The horror of Mario

Zak S, Zak Smith, Dndwithpornstars, Zak Sabbath. He is a terrible person and a hack at writing and art. His cultural contributions are less than Justin Bieber's, and he's a shitmuffin. Go go gadget Googlebomb!
radthemad4
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Post by radthemad4 »

Kale winces slightly at the 'just the hookers' part, but keeps his composure.

He nods. "When we find the responsible party or parties, we'll... 'fix 'em up good'. Right then, does any of you know anything about it?"
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Post by Grek »

Dalus continues wiping water off of his various bionics.

"Even the names and residences of victims would be a reasonable starting place."
Chamomile wrote:Grek is a national treasure.
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Post by Maxus »

"Been five, ain't it?" one of the patrons asks the general assembly.

"Yeah, five. Three women and two men. Don't know their names" the bartender says from the counter, not looking up from his efforts to shift some dried-on food stains on a plate. "Can't remember what the men did for a living. Can't imagine," he sniffs.

The building creaks loudly in the wind and rain.
He jumps like a damned dragoon, and charges into battle fighting rather insane monsters with little more than his bare hands and rather nasty spell effects conjured up solely through knowledge and the local plantlife. He unerringly knows where his goal lies, he breathes underwater and is untroubled by space travel, seems to have no limits to his actual endurance and favors killing his enemies by driving both boots square into their skull. His agility is unmatched, and his strength legendary, able to fling about a turtle shell big enough to contain a man with enough force to barrel down a near endless path of unfortunates.

--The horror of Mario

Zak S, Zak Smith, Dndwithpornstars, Zak Sabbath. He is a terrible person and a hack at writing and art. His cultural contributions are less than Justin Bieber's, and he's a shitmuffin. Go go gadget Googlebomb!
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Post by Dean »

(Sense motive check to see if I think he's lying please)

"Do you remember any pattern to it happening? All at night? Once a week? All in the same alleyway, anything? It's unpleasant to talk about I know but it only makes sense to help us. Covering up anything is covering for a murder, and the faster we figure out what's happening and stop it the faster the likes of us can be off your turf."
Last edited by Dean on Mon Oct 13, 2014 4:09 am, edited 1 time in total.
DSMatticus wrote:Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I am filled with an unfathomable hatred.
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Maxus
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Post by Maxus »

"Pattern? The only 'pattern' to it is they all get taken to bits 'round here. The three ladies were streetwalkers. I'm buggered if I know what the men were," The bartender says shortly. "Now that's what I know on the matter. If you want more, talk to the customers. If you don't want to buy a drink, I don't want to talk to you."

The more-than-slightly drunk patrons snicker loudly.
He jumps like a damned dragoon, and charges into battle fighting rather insane monsters with little more than his bare hands and rather nasty spell effects conjured up solely through knowledge and the local plantlife. He unerringly knows where his goal lies, he breathes underwater and is untroubled by space travel, seems to have no limits to his actual endurance and favors killing his enemies by driving both boots square into their skull. His agility is unmatched, and his strength legendary, able to fling about a turtle shell big enough to contain a man with enough force to barrel down a near endless path of unfortunates.

--The horror of Mario

Zak S, Zak Smith, Dndwithpornstars, Zak Sabbath. He is a terrible person and a hack at writing and art. His cultural contributions are less than Justin Bieber's, and he's a shitmuffin. Go go gadget Googlebomb!
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Post by Dean »

Riley turns to the men there. "Any of you fellas know anything about the men being targeted? If there's no info on the targets then it's random and anybody could be next. Anything ya'll know?"
DSMatticus wrote:Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I am filled with an unfathomable hatred.
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Post by Grek »

Dalus turns to examine the room as his compatriots interrogate the drunks. Perhaps there will be some hint of a clue here, or at the very least a bit of illegal material to blackmail the surly bartender with.

Search check: 1d20+4=14
Chamomile wrote:Grek is a national treasure.
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Maxus
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Post by Maxus »

"I 'eard one of them was a store owner walking 'ome," One of the patrons chimes in for the first time. "But maybe I didn't really 'ear that. I'm so busy workin' and makin' money that I 'ardly 'ave attention to spare."

He " 'olds " his hand out suggestively.
He jumps like a damned dragoon, and charges into battle fighting rather insane monsters with little more than his bare hands and rather nasty spell effects conjured up solely through knowledge and the local plantlife. He unerringly knows where his goal lies, he breathes underwater and is untroubled by space travel, seems to have no limits to his actual endurance and favors killing his enemies by driving both boots square into their skull. His agility is unmatched, and his strength legendary, able to fling about a turtle shell big enough to contain a man with enough force to barrel down a near endless path of unfortunates.

--The horror of Mario

Zak S, Zak Smith, Dndwithpornstars, Zak Sabbath. He is a terrible person and a hack at writing and art. His cultural contributions are less than Justin Bieber's, and he's a shitmuffin. Go go gadget Googlebomb!
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Post by radthemad4 »

Kale drops a gold coin in it. He also tosses one to the bartender. "A round of drinks for everyone."
Koumei
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Post by Koumei »

Agatha sighs, but holds her tongue. You can't even coax people to help themselves, sometimes. Grudgingly, she places one of the worthless local gold pieces in one of the worthless local hands.
Count Arioch the 28th wrote:There is NOTHING better than lesbians. Lesbians make everything better.
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Post by Dean »

Riley feels a con happening, and tries to read the mans body language and face to see if he's just improvising some facts to grab a few coins.

(Sense Motive)
If so he'll intercept the coin and say that the round ought to do for now, but tall tales arent what were after.
DSMatticus wrote:Fuck you, fuck you, fuck you, fuck you. I am filled with an unfathomable hatred.
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Maxus
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Post by Maxus »

The drunk looks at the money and the drinks arrive, and he says, "Well, it's like this: The Ripper would cut out all yer wobbly bits and leave 'em around yer now-empty boy. More'n a hundred years ago."

He takes a long drink. "But now it's happenin' again. A few ladies within four or five streets of our very own Miller's Court, and a couple of men here in the Court."
Last edited by Maxus on Wed Oct 15, 2014 5:58 am, edited 1 time in total.
He jumps like a damned dragoon, and charges into battle fighting rather insane monsters with little more than his bare hands and rather nasty spell effects conjured up solely through knowledge and the local plantlife. He unerringly knows where his goal lies, he breathes underwater and is untroubled by space travel, seems to have no limits to his actual endurance and favors killing his enemies by driving both boots square into their skull. His agility is unmatched, and his strength legendary, able to fling about a turtle shell big enough to contain a man with enough force to barrel down a near endless path of unfortunates.

--The horror of Mario

Zak S, Zak Smith, Dndwithpornstars, Zak Sabbath. He is a terrible person and a hack at writing and art. His cultural contributions are less than Justin Bieber's, and he's a shitmuffin. Go go gadget Googlebomb!
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