Kill Team-part 1

dementedwombat;14226977 wrote:
Suddenly, your musings are interrupted by the sound of the cell door grinding open. A Servitor and an orderly enter. The Servitor immediately grapples you and the orderly produces a syringe from a pocket of his coat. You feel a sharp prick in your neck. The last thing you hear before passing out is the attendant muttering "The Inquisitor has special plans for you. He'll make you wish you were dead before he's done ."

After what seems like an eternity of drifting through blackness, you regain consciousness. You have a splitting headache and you're seeing double; it feels like someone's exploded a melta-bomb inside your head. After a few seconds, you become aware enough to realize you are not in your cell anymore nor are you in the interrogation room. This room is unfamiliar to you.

Holding your head to stop your brain from falling out, you stand up and take stock of your surroundings. The room appears to be approximately 50ft. square and the walls are made of matte gray metal. There are no obvious entrances or exits. Archaic fluorescent lights hang from mounts about 10 feet overhead, casting only a shadowy illumination in the room. No doubt the persistent hum created by the lights was approved of by some warden to unnerve the prisoners.

Take the opportunity to post your character sheets now, as well as what you'd most likely be doing in the room. Have your characters get to know each other; have some fun role-playing. When you're ready, I'll continue the adventure.

-approved by seTiny
Cymru Karsall

Interrogation Protocol

The subject is tall and slim, its gaunt face has a grey tinge to it and its hair is short cropped according to regulation Alpha N 13 Q and receding at its temples.
The subjects sly look is enhanced by its cold grey eyes and the casual smile it shows but it is not as visible now in comparison to the first questioning.
The subjects nose is slightly ajar since it got beaten by warden Gunthar but has healed quite well.

Trained to use his mind the subject misses the discipline others show after the training at the Scholastia Psykana. It's self-centered and arrogant and wouldn't understand why it is on the death row until it was told of the involvement of the slaneesh cultists. It looks for mistakes in other first before aknowledging any fault to itself. Nevertheless it stands firm to the Imperium and the Emperor.

Cymru Karsall is the first and only son of Johann Karsall and Jelana Tarko both Sanctioned Psykers with the 91st Cadian Shock Troops stationed on Kasr Partox. Like most cadian children and especially those born in the regiments he could fire his own lasgun by the age of ten. But unlike most he was given special powers due to his uncommon heritage. Those were soon discovered and as fate decided two years later the blackships made their centennial apperance at the Cadia System. When they left with their holds full with the promising levy one of the boys abourd was Cymru.
On their way back to Earth the kids were drilled, disciplined and those who failed were weeded out but the knowledge passed to him through his parents and the skills learned helping at the 91st made Cymru excel easily. When they arrived at the Scholastia Psykana a couple years later and the final trainings began Cymru was often bored by the neverending routines they were to perform and while most of his friends from Cadia would have earned their spots in the 91st Cadians by now, he had seen no action whatsoever. Thus he was delighted when an older cadett named Jacen Gunn introduced him to some of his friends in the vicinity.The amusements found there enlightened Cymru and he began to spend more and more of his free time partying instead of studying his powers. Unbeknown the young cadian he slipped into the fangs of a small Slaanesh Cult and while the pleasure he found there multiplied with every night he spend away from the Psykana his statue became gaunt and his mind fuddled making it hard to follow his studies. But before he was confronted with the truth and fully initiated into the Circles of the Prince of Pleasure the Inquisition broke it apart and Cymru found himself in prison waiting for his execution.

Gender and Race: Male, Human
Size and Type: Medium, Humanoid (Human)
Height and Weight: 6'3" 145
Age: 21
ECL: Smart Hero 2
Background: Psyker Child (Concentration, Gather Information, Psychik Sense) (Psychic Affinity)
Allegiance: Imperium, Cadian Shock Troops, Self

STR 11 (+0) [03 pts] [11 Base]
DEX 14 (+2) [06 pts] [14 Base]
CON 12 (+1) [04 pts] [12 Base]
INT 15 (+2) [08 pts] [15 Base]
WIS 08 (-1) [00 pts] [08 Base]
CHA 12 (+1) [04 pts] [12 Base]

Miscellaneous Statistics
Hit Points: 21 /26 [2 HD] [21 (Smart1) + 5 (Smart2)]
Massive Damage Threshold: 12 [12 Con]
Armor Class (Normal): 16 [10 Base, +2 Dex, +1 Defense, +3 Armor]
Armor Class (Touch): 13 [10 Base, +2 Dex, +1 Defense]
Armor Class (Flat-Footed): 14 [10 Base, +1 Defense, +3 Armor]
Damage Reduction: 3 +3 Armor
Initiative: +2 [+2 Dex]
Base Attack Bonus: +1
Grapple: +1 [+1 BAB, +0 Str]
Speed (Land): 30 ft
Action Points: 6
Credit: +2
Leadership: +1
Weight Carried: 30 lbs, light encumbrance [0-38 (Light), 39-76 (Medium), 77-115 (Heavy)]

Fortitude: +1 [+1 Con, +0 Smart]
Reflex: +2 [+2 Dex, +0 Smart]
Will: +1 [-1 Wis, +2 Smart]

Melee Attacks
+1 Knife, 1d4 (19+/x2), piercing/slashing [+0 Str, +1 BAB]

Ranged Attacks
+3 Lasgun, 2d8 (19+/x2), energy, (Range:45', RoF:Auto, AP:2) [+2 Dex, +1 BAB]

Light Armor Proficiency Human: Can wear light armors without penalty.
Psychic Affinity Background: +2 on Psychic Sense and Knowledge (Warp) checks
Simple Weapon Proficiency Smart 1: Can use simple weapons.
Personal Firearms Proficiency Lvl 1: Can use personal firearms.
Arcane Heritage Smart 2: +1 Arcane Psyker Lvl, +1 Arcane Psyker DCs.

Arcane Power 1 Smart 1: Arcane Psyker Lvl 1.

Total Skill Points: 55
Speaks: Low Gothic, High Gothic
Reads/Writes: Low Gothic, High Gothic

Computer Use: +6 [+2 Int, 4 Ranks]
Concentration: +6 [+1 Con, 5 Ranks]
Craft(chemical): +7 [+2 Int, 5 Ranks]
Craft (visual art): +4 [+2 Int, 2 Ranks]
Decipher Script: +7 [+2 Int, 5 Ranks]
Demolitions: +6 [+2 Int, 4 Ranks]
Forgery: +5 [+2 Int, 3 Ranks]
Gather Info: +4 [+1 Cha, 3 Ranks]
Knowledge (imperium): +5 [+2 Int, 3 Ranks]
Knowledge (streetwise): +4 [+2 Int, 2 Ranks]
Knowledge (tactics): +4 [+2 Int, 2 Ranks]
Knowledge (warp): +9 [+2 Int, +2 Feat, 5 Ranks]
Psychic Sense: + 11[+2 Int, +2 Feat, +2 Synergy, 5 Ranks]
Research: +7 [+2 Int, 5 Ranks]

& 2 ranks spend for speak/read/write High Gothic

Arcane Psyker Lvl 2
Save DCs: 13+Powerlevel
Psychic Sense Check: +13 (2 Lvl, +5 Ranks, +2Int, +2Feat, +2 Synergy)
autopasses psychic checks for lvl 0 & lvl 1 powers.

Prepared Powers/Psychic Check:
Lvl 0/DC05: 4...... Magos Hand
Lvl 1/DC10: 2+1.. Grease
Lvl 2/DC15: none yet

Psychic Tome:
16/20 pages used
Lvl 0: Arcane Mark, Daze, Detect Psychic Presence, Magos Hand, Message, Understand Psychic Script
Lvl 1: Cause Fear, Charm Person, Color Spray, Comprehend Languages, Forcefield, Grease, Psychic Bolt, Psychic Shield, Ray of Enfeeblement, True Strike.

Bandolier with 5 extra charge packs
Flak Armor
Psychic Tome
Yes, I should have been more clear. You all are in the same room.


It is funny, really. If you are a mutant, you either become royalty, or an outcast. Instant judgment, based on nothing more than the random alteration of those double-helix molecules. Do you understand the logic here?

Great. Now explain it to me.

All I ever wanted was a normal life. Of course, as long as I am wishing, I may as well wish I was an Imperial Governor, with billions of credits and a trophy wife. My odds of getting either are about the same. “Normal” Ratlings are barely tolerated. If you have outsized ears, long legs, and extra digits, forget it. I am told my parents tossed me out the window right after I was born. I have since given a lot of thought as to whether or not it was lucky for me that they were on the ground floor at the time. Well, okay, it was lucky for sure-but was it good luck?

It was there, lying on the street, that I was found by Crimeias, who took me in and raised me as a son. He was both father and mentor to me. Or at least, until he disappeared, when I was about five or six. He just left one day and never returned, leaving me on my own. In the interest of brevity, I will spare you the details of a life of starvation, seeking cover from chem storms and acid rain, sleeping with one eye open, dodging pogroms, and I will certainly not tell of the times when things got bad.

I do remember the first time I killed a man. He must have forgotten something-why else would he have come back to his shop right after closing up? Well, he caught me, and we just stood there for a moment, blinking at each other. That was when I noticed the Stubpistol behind the counter. Reflexively, I snapped it up and shot him with it. It misfired on the third round, but the first two were enough to do the job. I had a realization then-it was like someone had turned on the lights for me-no longer would I have to run and hide and take crap from humans; rather, I could take the fight right back to them.

And it turned out the skills of disguise and stealth I had learned of necessity to avoid those trying to kill me proved very useful when I went to return the favor. For several years I stalked and killed those who sought to kill me. If I could be said to have a good part of my life, this would be it. For once, I actually had a purpose, rather than just trying to survive. And the handful of contract killings I did during this period paid a lot better than petty theft ever did.

Sadly, all good things come to an end. While I knew it was inevitable, I was unprepared for the speed at which it happened-I was captured no less than 36 standard hours after my last kill-the guy must have been more important than I had thought he was.
So now I sit is this cell, condemned to die by the Imperium, for making a living in the only way it let me.

There is no justice.

Sativez is thin and lanky, and this effect is only augmented by his unnaturally long legs. Each of his extremities bears six digits. His eyes are blue, he keeps his black hair trimmed short, and his face is rugged from exposure. His ears resemble those of a bat.

Sativez seldom speaks, but never seems to be without an unkind word for anybody or anything. He is also not very trusting if people, but is exceedingly loyal to his few friends.


Gender and Race: Ratling Male
Size and Type: Small, Humanoid (Ratling)
Height and Weight: 3' 9", 47 lbs
Age: 14
ECL: Fast Hero 2
Background: Outcast (Diguise, Hide) (Endurance)
Allegiance: Self

STR 5 (-3) [01 pts] [09 Base]
DEX 20 (+5) [10 pts] [16 Base]
CON 08 (-1) [04 pts] [12 Base]
INT 12 (+1) [04 pts] [12 Base]
WIS 14 (+2) [06 pts] [08 Base]
CHA 06 (-2) [00 pts] [06 Base]

Miscellaneous Statistics
Hit Points: [color=red]20/25 [2 HD] [21 (Fast1) + 4 (Fast2)]
Massive Damage Threshold: 8 [08 Con]
Armor Class (Normal): 20 [10 Base, +5 Dex, +4 Defense, +1 Size]
Armor Class (Touch): 20 [10 Base, +5 Dex, +4 Defense, +1 Size]
Armor Class (Flat-Footed): 15 [10 Base, +4 Defense, +1 Size]
Initiative: +5 [+5 Dex]
Base Attack Bonus: +1
Grapple: -6 [+1 BAB, -3 Str, -4 Size]
Speed (Land): 25 ft
Action Points: 5
Credit: +0
Leadership: +0
Weight Carried: 10 lbs, no encumbrance [0-12.5 (Light), 12.5-25 (Medium), 25-37.5(Heavy)]

Fortitude: -1 [-1 Con, +0 Fast]
Reflex: +7[+5 Dex, +2 Fast]
Will: +2 [+2 Wis, +0 Fast]

Melee Attacks
Unarmed Strike: -1, 1d2-3, (20/x2), bludgeoning [color=gray][-3 Str, +1 BAB, +1 Size]
Knife: -1, 1d4-3 (19-20/x2), slashing or piercing [-3 Str, +1 BAB, +1 Size]

Ranged Attacks

Lasgun: +7, 2d8 (19-20/x2), 45', Auto, AP 2, Energy [+5 Dex, +1 BAB, +1 Size]

Point Blank ShotLvl 1: +1 Attack and damge with rnaged weapons within 30'.
Precise ShotRatling: No penalty for firing into Melee
EnduranceBackground: +4 to certain Constitution checks.
Simple Weapon Proficiency Fast 1: Can use simple weapons without penalty.
Personal Firearms ProficiencyFast 2: Can use firearms without penalty.
Evasion: No damage on succesful Reflex save.

Total Skill Points: 29
Languages: Low Gothic

Balance: +7 [+5 Dex, +2 Synergy]
Bluff: +0 [-2 Cha, 2 Ranks]
Climb: -1 [-3 Str, +2 Racial]
Disguise: +2 [-2 Cha, 4 Ranks]
Hide: +15 [+5 Dex, 5 Ranks, +4 Size, +1 Background]
Jump: -7 [-3 Str, -4 Speed]
Listen: +3 [+2 Wis, 1 Rank]
Move Silently: +12 [+5 Dex, 5 Ranks, +2 Racial]
Sleight of Hand: +10 [+5 Dex, 5 Ranks]
Tumble: +10 [+5 Dex, 5 Ranks]

Ability Decay (Charisma): -2 to ability score
Echolocator: Blindsight 60'
Extra Digits: 6 fingers/toes per extremity
Large Ears: Large, bat-like ears
Long Legs: +5' Speed

Black In-Character
Blue IC speech
Italic Green IC thoughts

How much did I have to drink last night? Sativez wonders as he returns to conciousness. Then the memories come back-of a cell, an orderly, a syringe, and then nothingness. [color=green]How long ago was that? Minutes? Hours? Days?[/color] The aftereffects of the the drug make any sort of determination impossible. [color=green]So where am I now?[/color] He asks himself as he gingerly raises his head and cracks open an eye.

[color=green]Three humans, inmates, no interrogators. Or executioners. Featureless room. And obnoxious flourescent lights. Joy.[/color]

Sativez carefully picks himself off the ground, testing each limb to ensure nothing is broken or similiarly incapacitated.
Apart from the splitting headache and the general stiffness/bruises that are a normal part of a prisoner's life, you are not injured in any way. (this goes for everyone.)
Nerra's Fluff

My name is Nerra. The reason why I am writing this on the bottom of this table is that the servitors are not programmed to clean the bottoms of them and thus, this is not likely to be found by them. Tin-cans are decent at fighting, but not so keen on making their own decisions. I'm writing with a pen, which I lifted off the inquisitor after the latest 'session' where I was 'encouraged' to sign my confession. I was hoping to get a knife or something of the like but all he had was this. No use complaining about it now, better than nothing.
Again with the lights. Apparently, they think randomly turning the lights out while I am moving around will inflict some kind of psychological damage, so I can confess all the quicker. If they knew how dark Sidris was, they wouldn't bother trying to inconvenience me so. Truall would know what Sidris would like, he would... but I'm getting ahead of myself.

I was born on Sidris, fifth planet of the Ulrich Jager system. I am the daughter of King Ruin'Mow, who rules over the Collective of Powri, which controls most of Sidris' surface. He in turn gives fealty to the Emperor, who rules the star empire of which you, no doubt, are a citizen. A powerful servant of the Emperor named Truall came to our world, searching for strong and cunning warriors to train in his discipline and serve the Emperor as great killers. The improptu contest to determine those who were worthy of being suggested to him lasted perhaps seven days. I killed five of my seven opponents in the tournament proper and another three who tried to ambush me after my matches.
I was blessed to be found worthy, along with ninety nine others from Sidris. We left in Truall's starship, which already held another three-hundred candidates, travelling to two more strange planets before heading for his Temple on earth. Once the final journey had begun, so did our preliminary training. Truall explained to us that of the six hundred men and women he had personally selected, he would be lucky to produce ten who were worthy to become the lowest ranked among the Offico Assinorium. I do not know how all things in the Empire are run, but if the other Offico and various branches of the Emperor's servants are so skillfully run, it may truly last forever.
This training slash competition focused mainly on the simpler physical aspects of killing, such as being able to chase your quarry down over any type of terrain (often simulated by invisible barriers projected somehow from the ship itself) or take them by such surprise that flight was not an option until they were already dead. We also learned basic defensive martial arts; training with the weapons of death would begin once we were in the Temple proper, where appropriate Fire Rooms could be found. I was quite comfortable just using the simple daggers and blades we were given, but maybe I would have changed my mind.
There were perhaps a hundred of us left. A few gutless cowards had asked to be released from the program, rather than endure another round of harsh elimination; they were left on a desolate looking planet. If any of them have survived to the time where I wrote this, I would be proud to call them brother or sister for their ferocity. The other four hundred we had lost had suffered less dramatically. Those who collapsed during runs were left where they lay. A warrior not fast enough to avoid a slow slice at his throat... well, an injury like that, even with the Empire's wondrous medicine... So and so, through attrition, accident and 'accident', we had been reduced.
But Truall, he was no accident. He had been absent for the last two days. None of us dared disturb him; except me. I talked, shouted, pounded on his door and then finally after an hour, broke it in. Though I had seen blood before, I had never seen so much of it cover such a space. It is a wonder that our bodies can hold so much of the stuff of life, little consolation though that is when you see it spilling out of you or those you care for. The Emperor's servants called the Inquistors seized me once the ship docked. Apparently, according to Truall's records I was both his most deadly selection and the least trustworthy. Damned by my master's own hand, from beyond the grave.
It is a tale worth setting down to be read again, is it not? I cannot end it well however, I do not know my fate. Perhaps they will endeavor to deliver Truall's death to me, in proper manner of vengeance. Or perhaps they will only give me a coward's death, poison or some such. Either way, I will fight to the last moment, secure in this small knowledge that a piece of me will live on in you, reader. Know that Nerra, daughter of Ruin'Mow, Third Princess of Powri was here! Know that she kept her head high and maintained her innocence through all tribulations.
And, if you allow me a little vanity, see that my people know it as well.

Nerra is tall but slim, most her weight going into lean muscles and her visibly athletic legs. Blue-black hair unevenly frames a rounded triangle of a face, with slanted eyebrows and nose forming a reverse triangle inside it along with green eyes a slight mouth.

Though sometimes hard to move to action, Nerra switches from lassitude to frenzied devotion in any task that garners sufficient interest. Though often too honest to make good small talk and not terribly observant of her surroundings, Nerra nonetheless prefers a well-reasoned and prepared plan over ad-hoc action for the sake of doing something.

On the Imperium: Mighty, if haphazardly so. Worthy of respect in general, unless weakness is specifically displayed.
On Xenomorphs: Must be cautious, many would gladly remove us from this universe.
On Honor: A luxury, best indulged when one's life is not threatened by doing so.
On Religion: A god as well as an Emperor? Truly, this must be so. No mortal master could rule such a vast construct.

Nerra's Crunch

Gender and Race: Female, Human
Size and Type: Medium, Humanoid (Human)
Height and Weight: 5'10" 165
Age: 20
ECL: Fast Hero 2
Background: Feral Worlder (Climb, Jump, Swim) (Advanced Melee Weapons Proficiency)
Allegiance: Self, Rebellious, Good.

STR 16 (+3) [10 pts] [16 Base]
DEX 16 (+3) [10 pts] [16 Base]
CON 11 (+0) [03 pts] [11 Base]
INT 10 (+0) [02 pts] [10 Base]
WIS 08 (-1) [00 pts] [08 Base]
CHA 08 (-1) [00 pts] [08 Base]

Miscellaneous Statistics
Hit Points: 29 [2 HD] [24 (Fast1) + 5 (Fast2)]
Armor Class (Normal): 18 [10 Base, +3 Dex, +4 Defense, +1 Untyped][+1 vs Melee]
Armor Class (Touch): 18 [10 Base, +3 Dex, +4 Defense, +1 Untyped][+1 vs Melee]
Armor Class (Flat-Footed): 15 [10 Base, +4 Defense, +1 Untyped] [+1 vs Melee]
Initiative: +3 [+3 Dex]
Base Attack Bonus: +1
Grapple: +4 [+1 BAB, +3 Str]
Speed (Land): 30 ft
Action Points: 6
Credit: +0
Leadership: +0
Weight Carried: 0 lbs, no encumbrance [0-76 (Light), 77-153 (Medium), 154-230 (Heavy)]

Fortitude: +0 [+0 Con, +0 Fast]
Reflex: +5 [+3 Dex, +2 Fast]
Will: -1 [-1 Wis, +0 Fast]

Melee Attacks
Unarmed Strike: +4, 1d3+3, (20/x2), bludgeoning [+3 Str, +1 BAB]

Ranged Attacks

Planetary Adaptation: Dark Lvl 1 Darkvision to 60'
Defensive Martial Arts Human +1 Dodge bonus to AC.
Advanced Melee Weapon Proficiency Background Can use advanced/archaic melee weapons.
Simple Weapon Proficiency Fast 1 Can use simple weapons.
Elusive Target Fast 2 Enemies shooting at Nerra while she is in melee suffer a -8 penalty.

Duck & Weave +1: +1 bonus to AC in light/no armor.

Total Skill Points: 25
Languages: Low Gothic

Balance: +4 [+3 Dex, 1 Ranks]
Climb: +4 [+3 Str, 1 Ranks]
Drive: +3 [+3 Dex, 0 Ranks]
Escape Artist: +3 [+3 Dex, 0 Ranks]
Hide: +8 [+3 Dex, 5 Ranks]
Jump: +5 [+3 Str, 2 Ranks]
Move Silently: +8 [+3 Dex, 5 Ranks]
Ride: +3 [+3 Dex, 0 Ranks]
Sleight of Hand: +8 [+3 Dex, 5 Ranks]
Swim: +4 [+3 Str, 1 Ranks]
Tumble: +8 [+3 Dex, 5 Ranks]

Nerra grimaces with indecision at this change of scene. Her dignity demands she take charge of the situation and find out what in the blazes is going on... but the deadly instinct hammered into her by all-too-brief training suggests playing possum and waiting for further developments is far more likely to be fruitful.

Compromise then, bear your honor in silence and wait for one of them to make the first move.

So and so the female prisoner widens her stance slightly, and crosses her arms; all the better to glare at the others in the room with her. As though this was somehow all their fault and an apology should be forthcoming. What an unpleasant woman.

Yay. And away we go.


Black = In character action/exposition.
"Dark Blue" = Spoken word
[color=darkblue]Italic Dark Blue[/color] = Thoughts
Gray = Out of Character

Damm the Emperor and damm the Imperium. I start my life on one of those death worlds and work to get myself off of it by getting hired on as a deckhand for some scum of Chaos uncharted trader only to have him get himself arrested six months later by the Adeptus Arbite just after what should have been a routine cargo transfer. Luckily they didn't catch me there. I had a bit of credit stored up and a couple of friends that owed me some favors. I got a ship and I started running. At first I was running away from the Imperium.... next I was running weapons to well, really anyone that the money to buy them. I really don't think I'm doing anything wrong with this, I'm causing the enemies of the Imperium to kill each other. Though I've got to be careful... not everybody sees it that way. Specially not that damm Inquisitor that picked me up for “heretical activities” and “rogue psyker”. That's not what I'd call heretical giving a shipload of guns to a bunch of citizens trying to fight off a large infestation of cultists. That's downright charitable, plus its the best thing I could do to help. This isn't even thinking of my profit margin. And what's this about me being a psyker? Come on now, its not possible.... well maybe it is....The stupid guy decides to round them up too... They're probably dead by now, he's got some sort of diabolical scheme, I'm sure of it. I think he might be working for.... Wait someone's coming.....


Gregory appears as a young man with jet black hair, and green eyes. He looks a little thin, but wiry, a byproduct of the Death World that he grew up on; there was never enough to eat there. He seems a little blunt, but that's a byproduct of having to survive the harsh realities of life on a Death World. Despite his sarcastic outlook on life he is a loyal servant of the Emperor and by extension the Imperium. He treats his friends as family and you don't turn on or abandon family.


Gender and Race: Male, Human
Size and Type: Medium, Humanoid (Human)
Height and Weight: 6'0" 200
Age: 23
ECL: Fast Hero 1/Dedicated Hero 1
Background: Death Worlder (Hide, Move Silently) (Light Armor Proficiency)
Allegiance: Self, Imperium, Good.

STR 12 (+1) [4 pts]
DEX 14 (+2) [6 pts]
CON 13 (+1) [5 pts]
INT 12 (+1) [4 pts]
WIS 14 (+2) [6 pts]
CHA 08 (-1) [0 pts]

Miscellaneous Statistics
Hit Points: 30 [2 HD] [24 (Fast1)+1 + 3 (Dedicated 1)+1]
Armor Class (Normal): 20 [10 Base, +3 armor +2 Dex, +4 Defense, +1 Untyped]
Armor Class (Touch): 17 [10 Base, +2 Dex, +4 Defense, +1 Untyped]
Armor Class (Flat-Footed): 18 [10 Base, +3 armor, +4 Defense, +1 Untyped]
Damage Reduction: 3 Full Flak Armor 3
Initiative: +3 [+2 Dex]
Base Attack Bonus: +0
Grapple: +1 [+0 BAB, +1 Str]
Speed (Land): 30 ft
Action Points:
Credit: +0
Leadership: +1
Weight Carried: 0 lbs, no encumbrance [ up to 33 lb. (Light), 34-66 lb (Medium), 67-100 lb (Heavy)]

Fortitude: +2 [+1 Con, +0 Fast, +1 Dedicated]
Reflex: +3 [+2 Dex, +1 Fast, +0 Dedicated]
Will: +3 [+2 Wis, +0 Fast, +1 Dedicated]

Melee Attacks
Unarmed Strike: +1, , (20/x2), bludgeoning [+1 Str, +0 BAB]
Knife +1

Ranged Attacks
Lasgun +2, 2d8 19-20 45 ft. Auto 7 lb. Energy AP 2

Simple Weapon Proficiency Fast 1 Can use simple weapons.
Light Armor Proficiency [occupation] Can wear light armor proficiently
Personal Firearms Proficiency [Human 1]
Advanced Firearms Proficiency [Level 1]

Duck & Weave +1: +1 bonus to AC in light/no armor.
Mystic Power: Mystic Psyker Level 1

Total Skill Points: 24+6=30
Languages: Gothic

Balance: +4 [+2 Dex, 2 Ranks]
Climb: +3 [+1 Str, 2 Ranks]
Drive: +6 [+2 Dex, 4 Ranks]
Escape Artist: +6 [+2 Dex, 4 Ranks]
Investigate +1 [+1 Int, 0 Ranks]
Hide: +7 [+2 Dex, 4 Ranks, +1 misc]
Knowledge (religion) +1 [+1 Int, 0 Ranks]
Listen +6 [+2 Dex, 4 Ranks]
Jump: +1 [+1 Str, 0 Ranks]
Move Silently: +7 [+2 Dex, 4 Ranks, +1 misc]
Ride: +2 [+2 Dex, 0 Ranks]
Sense Motive +7 [+2 Wis, 5 Ranks]
Sleight of Hand: +2 [+2 Dex, 0 Ranks]
Spot +2 [+2 Wis, 0 Ranks]
Swim: +1 [+1 Str, 0 Ranks]
Tumble: +2 [+2 Dex, 0 Ranks]
Treat Injury +3 [+2 Wis, 1 Ranks]

Black- In charachter actions (if the colors are hard to read I'll change them)
Cyan In Character Speech
Italic Cyan In Character Thought
Gray Out of Charachter
Rolls as Gregory D. ID id=1388883

Great. New room again. What do we have here... He thinks as he surveys the room..... Three other people here. Angry lady, ratling, and weird guy.... not that that couldn't be applied to all of us. So lets see here.... what sort of stuff do we have here that we might be able to use to get out of here...

He glances around unobtrusively looking for bugs
Spot Check to discover bugs in initial room (1d20+2=10)

So what are you guys in here for?
As you glance around, no obvious bugs meet the eye. In fact, the blank symmetry of the room is rather depressing. The only unique mark you spot is a small patch (about 6 inches square) on the wall that is a slightly darker gray.

I'll let you escape if you can do it, but I didn't plan on it. You probably wouldn't get very far anyway.
Sativez seems to project an adamantium wall of indifference, ignoring both the woman's glare and the man's inquiry as he stretches, trying to work out the knots in his muscles, or at least the worst thereof.

That complete, he heads for the nearest wall, leans his back up against it, folds his arms across his chest, and closes his left eye, hoping a quick nap will provide at least partial relief for his pounding head.

Damn those lights., as his face adopts a scowl.
Oh may the Emperor crush the infidel, what did they do to me? As Cymru regains concience he slowly raises his head, and tries to acommodate to the situation but the unpleasant illumination and that lousy noise make him close his eyes again quickly. If this is death row what do the other do here?
Upon hearing a question Cymru opens his eyes again and looks at the young man before glancing at the ratling and turning towards the woman. Grinning he contemplates her from head to toe and back again before answering.
Oh one could say I'm here due to lack of discipline and a certain indulgence in carnal pleasures ... but I prefer to say that I was plain stupid. But what are you doing here? Why would they pen us together?
A mutant, a bad girl and ... another prisoner ... but I was never one for boring company anyways and it's by far better then rotting alone in a cell.

hmm Jekolmy could you use a darker color like RoyalBlue for example? I've a hard time reading longer passages in Cyan :P
Sorry wrong forum
What did I do? I was running guns to Imperial Citizens fighting a bunch of cultists only to get told after that I'm an unregistered rogue psyker..... Yeah I really don't know what to say about that. Why are we all in this room... It would be a lot easier to just kill us individually, I would think at least. No bugs that I can see.
He deals with a kink in his neck.They've got something planned for us
He sighs and starts attempting to clear the headache thats starting to come from the damn lights. Maybe, he mused I can find something to shut the lights off.... but that would mean we couldn't see. Damn lights.
What am I in for?

Nerra begins to open her mouth to explain her circumstances, but two things stop her. First, the leer from Cymru, which turns her glare into a sneer in response. The second is a niggling of doubt.

What am I here for? Could it be that this is just another, final test? My loyalty... or my ingenuity and ability to get out of this spot with the tools given to me? Tools... like these ones.

"I am here for a good reason, but not one good enough that I want to stay here. Keep your eyes and ears open for a time, I will rest mine, as the small one does. You can have a turn later."

And with that, she stalks to a corner in the room, sinking down into a knees-up crouch, shifting her head down and hiding her features. A position to conserve space and reduce outline signature. Given, if she is really dropping out, she cant very well make sure the others do what she says and they don't exactly have any incentive to do so.

Trying to RP a lowish charisma without being too obnoxious. Oh and I second the request to change from Cyan to something a little darker, it's really hard to read on the default skin (which my browser doesn't seem to want to let me change). So thanks Jek for shifting down.
[color=green]I dub thee Ms. Mean, Mr. Lecher, and Mr. Social.[/color]

He mentally applaudes Mean-if nothing else, she seems to have the right instincts. [color=green]Not too free with the info, and rest is good when you can do nothin' else constructive. A child of adversity-not unlike myself. Does not strike me as a 'Hiver, so likely hails from an Emperor-forsaken backwater somewhere.

Mr. Social, I am gonna guess, claims no world as home, instead preferrin' the deck of a starship under his feet. I wonder how long he has been in here, and whether his contacts have dried up on him or not...

Now Lecher...
[/color] Sativez frowns. [color=green]What does he have? Other than low inhibitions.[/color]
A rogue psyker? interesting and non of the others showed the usual amount of fear and resentment. If I had only acces to my tome.
Sitting down as comfortable as possible with his back against the wall Cymru concentrates for a moment and focuses on the energy the warp provides. Psychic Sense 22 to identify Gregory as a psyker.
He speaks the truth perhaps he has nothing to lose anymore ... just as me. But he doesn't seem to know the peril he is in facing the dangers of the warp untrained.
Turning to Gregory he speaks with a low voice trying not to disturb the others. Oh well, let them take a nap and enjoy a little smalltalk between the two of us. I'm Cymru Karsall but ye might call me Karsall ... never liked that first name of mine very much. Any thought on what they might have planned? Seems we got away from the executioners block at least and I'm definitely glad about it. Have you met these two before or are they strangers to you as well?
Sativez tries not to betray interest as he cocks an ear to eavesdrop on the two men.

Sativez tries not to betray interest as he cocks an ear to eavesdrop on the two men.


That's easily enough to hear them clearly, even with the buzzing lights.
Can't say that I've met any of these folks before. As for their plans? Who knows, its gonna be painful, its gonna be hard. And its likely designed to kill us all. All I know is that I'm going to do what I can to survive that... And getting some allies certainly wouldn't hurt any of our chances. But then again with all of us locked up in here and that Inquisitor out there.... that opinion of mine isn't worth a warm bucket of spit.
Aye some good reasoning you got there. And if you're really in the way of an inquisitor I'm surprised that you still live. But who knows they might the same struggle for power within as any political or religeous order and perhaps another of them kinda liked what you did. So whats your name? No need to be shy as they probably know more about you then youself. They definitely knew an awful lot about me. Karsall shrugs.
I'm Gregory He extends his hand. Its good to meet you Karsall. Well all I can say is that we all are probably in over our heads here and the only way that we might stand a chance at surving, much less living our own lives again. By ourselves we stand no chance at all, just like by itself a single twig is easily snapped, but bundled together they are strong.
Well it looks like I have an ally now, hopefully the others will realize that yes we too are all together in this venture whether we want too or not.

I thought that the sticks was funny (sorta) with the martial artist sitting in the room, though my character has no idea about that.
With a flurry of sudden movement, Nerra unfolds from her corner, arms rising above her head in a languorous stretch that shifts into a more practical flexing, her body twisting preztel-like to the left and then the right.

Not a long nap, but it will have to do.

Not giving too much mind to her fellow inmates for the moment, she looks around the stark room again, this time with an eye for the inanimate.

Is there any furniture/fixtures in the room aside from the lights?
Any debris (like rocks or such)?
Also, sorry for the longish stretch between posts; but I'm sure you know how thanksgiving is.
Shaking Gregory's hand with a firm grip Karsall relaxes a bit and a small grin appears on his face again. Just before he can answer again Nerra jumps up startling him for a second before he pulls himself together and abandons the defensive roll he was about to perform. His hands stop a strange routine and his shoulders seem to slouch for a moment before Karsall straightens himself again.
Wow that woman will crush even a fat bundle of twigs. No actually the twigs will bend and break themselves to escape her. And I sit here powerless like a duck in a pond without my psychic tome.
Looking at Nerra again his face becomes a little annoyed by her ongoing ignorance. Hey Lady, this is Gregory and I'm Karsall as you might have heard. How do you want to be called?
Eamane, good to see you back. I know exactly how Thanksgiving is.

Aside from the lights (and the small discolored patch only Gregory knows about) the room appears completely empty.
Sativez finds his assesment of the situation matches that of the two men. [color=green]What was it the guy said? Right-somethin' about an Inquisitor and...special plans. 'Special', of course, bein' shorthand for 'not somethin' designed with Sativez's best interests in mind'.[/green]

He turns his one open eye towards the light fixtures, a germ of an idea in his mind. Before he can develop the thought, however, Nerra awakes. Her quick movements are exactly the sort of thing that triggers reflexes honed by a life in the Underhives.

Without even concious thought, he pushes himself off the wall, launching into a headlong dive. As he hits the floor, he converts into a roll, using momentum to come up on his feet, facing Nerra, in a stance ready for fight or flight-except for his right hand, which is furiously grabbing air-as if searching for a weapon that was not there.

Then, as rational thought takes over from instinctive reflex, he realizes the women's movements are not offensive in nature, at least not yet. He drops his hands to his sides and straightens up, as if trying to correct his error before anybody sees him.

Don't do that! he says, speaking for the first time since he woke up.

Can I get a little more detail on those light fixtures, please? Are they supsended from the ceiling by chains, or more like the ones you see in office buildings, recessed into the ceiling and behind plastic sheets?
The lights are in fixtures hung from the ceiling by metal wires (not full on chains). A power cord can be seen extending from the center of each fixture into the ceiling. There is no visible way of turning the lights on or off.

Each fixture is about 10 feet long and a foot wide. It contains 4 bulbs (mounted in parallel, each bulb is 10 feet long). There are 20 fixtures in total. They are mounted in 5 parallel lines.
Gregory looks slightly puzzled by the man's actions and outbursts Don't do what? Play with that little grey box? Fight amongst ourselves? Band up together to hopefully survive? sit here any longer? He looks like he's been in here just a little too long and needs to get out and DO something.

Sorry bout the ingame rant
The woman looks conflicted as she returns her attention to her fellows, disappointed and excited at the same time.

Ah-ha! Two of them have good reflexes, though out of place. Perhaps this is a final test! I must be cautious and bold at the same time, yes.

Her internal monologue is not without it's external outputs; namely the entirely predatory bearing of teeth that spreads over her face while Gregory rants.

"Call me En for now. Names may make it more difficult once the next task is revealed. Care to spar in preparation?"

After a brief pause, Nerra assures the others that her words were not a veiled threat;

"I am not hand deadly; yet."

For her part, she has not assumed a visible combat stance as of yet, her possible opponents just a bit too far away to provoke such a reaction just yet perhaps. On the other hand, that manic grin hasn't slipped off her face, no matter how little it matches her words.
Any time you people want to advance the plot, tell me and I'll get the real game started. Just to let you know, it does not involve you escaping from the cell.
This is neither the right time nor the right place for it. Relaxing himself Karsall grins at Narra. I might come back to your offer En another time though. But right now I'm more interested in some hints to why we're put together here and what they intend to do with us. Especially what they want from me. And if thats not going to happen soon sme drink and perhaps a little food would be nice to get that stale taste out of my mouth.
With a sigh he lays back and tries to make himself comfortable on the bare ground. Failing to do so he gives up after a few seconds and looks at the ratling. Screw that how could you possible sleep like that? How do you want to be called anyways? Don't look like you'd enjoy peewee much eh?

Yeah time to move on. Our characters are not the type of guys that chatter all day, especially in the given situation.
In response to Karsall's question, Sativez shrugs. Practice. And you can call me- He starts to give a false name, then decides against it. -Sativez.

As for why we are here, I seem to remember somethin' about an Inquisitor havin' plans for us, right before I blacked out. So, if I had somethin' worth wagerin', I'd wager it that he has some kinda special mission for us. If we make it out with our lives, we get them back. What he's not gonna tell us, of course, is that it's a suicide mission.
Sorry, the last few days have been pretty bad. I've joined on the basketball team. Before this, the most physical exercise I've had is walking from my house to my car. It's been a rough two days.

Your conversation is interrupted by the soft scraping sound of a cleverly disguised door sliding open revealing a hall constructed in the same style as your current holding room.

As your heads turn to look through the opening a figure emerges. He has brown hair and his eyes are the same color. What skin you can see is white, but not overly so. It seemed reasionable to estimate his height at somewhere around 6 feet. His face wore an expression of shear blankness. In short he was the kind of man you wouldn't think twice about if you met him in the street; that is except for the gold suit of power armor and the Inquisitorial ring on his finger.

As he steps forward into the room 5 Inquisitorial Storm Troopers file through the door. They form up into a semicircle behind him. He sweeps his head slowly around the room glancing at each one of you in turn. His expression reminds you of a man evaluating goods he intends to purchase. Once he finishes his sweep of the room he shakes his head almost imperceptibly. Just as if he compared you all to some measure and found you wanting.

For the first time he speaks, his voice a flat uninflected monotone. Whoever this man is, he seems completely emotionless.

"Each here has betrayed the Immortal Emperor. If there was any justice in this galaxy, you would all be dead for what you have done. However, powers beyond my control have decreed you all be given a final chance to perhaps gain some measure of forgiveness for your sins. Emperor knows I don't condone their action."

His hand strays to the holster on his hip.

"You have a choice; accept your chance of repentance and perhaps die with some measure of forgiveness. Or die here, like dogs, by my hand.

I really haven't had much experience with this. Are my descriptions sounding ok? I've tried to make this guy as unlikeable as possible.
"But they should consider this, he quietly says, should a man who has wronged the Emperor be allowed to wrong him further? For each man executed is a man who can no longer serve, and to fail in service to the Emperor is the greatest of sins." Gregory says. And the inquisitor should know from where that came from. I have always done my best to serve the interests of the Imperium, I don't want to stop now. He blinks and stands up straight as best as he can, I'm in

I've been playing my 40K video game most of today and I have to say that he certainly sounds just about right. Oh and that quote is from Leman Russ., though I left off the part about penal battalions. If you want me to roll for it go ahead but I hope I can just go with it the way its written.
It's ok, you can just go with it. I don't mind freeform roleplaying. I'm going to wait until everyone has a chance to post before I continue further.
Nerra's excitement fades as her fellows seem less than enthused by her offer, but so does her disappointment, leaving her as dispassionate as one can be, under the circumstances. She keeps her counsel to herself; at least until the Inquisitor and Gregory are done with their back and forth anyways.

"I can still serve the Glorious Star Emperor?" She queries, sounding puzzled and then happy with her follow-up, "Of course I wish to do so!"

OOC: Descriptions are fine so far. It's an acquired skill, the more you do it, the better you'll be. I'd say after a few weeks, look back over this thread and see what we ask for clarification on most frequently, then try to include those things up-front. That method is how I learned myself, seems to work.
[color=green]'Forces beyond your control' I'm sure. If ya gonna lie to us, at least make it plausible. Somethin' like this.[/color]

But of course, He says brightly. What more could any loyal servant of the Emperor ask for than the chance to lay down their life in His service? For those who make the ultimate sacrifice in the defense of mankind are forever blessed in the name the Emperor.

[color=green]Hope I didn't overdo that.[/color]
Just in case you're wondering, I'm not posting replies because this guy doesn't much care what you say. To him, it basically amounts to "yes" or "no". Once all 4 of you give your answer, he'll continue.
I'll accept that generous offer and will give my best to follow the right and just way of the Emperor.

My head still hurts from partying so just a quick answer to keep things moving. You're doing fine dementedwombat I really enjoy playing here so far.
After your replies have been made, the Inquisitor nods slightly and speaks quickly into a small speaker built into the collar of his armor
This is Inquisitor Karrack exiting cell block 101 with the convicts. I need a transport shuttle prepared immediately.
He then stands still for a few seconds, presumably listening to a reply.

He speaks again, this time directed at you. His voice now a tone of command
Get a move on convicts! We don't have all day.

The soldiers split ranks, now forming a line on each side of the door. The Inquisitor strides out of the room.
Gregory looks around and begins to follow the inquisitor out assuming the storm troopers don't interfere.
Aside from some choice insults, the guards let you pass without interference. As soon as everyone exits, they form up into a line behind you, guns at the ready.
Sativez does not even seem to acknowledge the presence of the guards as he follows the Inquisitor out. His eyes are not fixed on the armored figure, but instead wander to the walls and ceiling, trying to figure out at least a vaguest idea of where he is and what direction they are headed.
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