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It was going to be a long ride.

A part of you ached to do something. Get up. Fumble with needles and cloth, your pistol- something. Anything. But your eyes droop slightly, and despite your regulated sleep the night before, you realize that this is a chance to do more than just fulfill your basic need for sleep and truly rest. There was time to the destination, and whatever tasks you could think of were better served when you weren't stuck in a subtly vibrating and occasionally jostling transport.

Slowly, you let your shoulders relax, your head drooping back until it's touching against the wall, and allow your eyes to close. Instead of simply allowing yourself to be still for a moment, you find your consciousness fading all too quickly, your body gratefully snatching up the little bit of sleep afforded to it now. The gentle rumbling of the road almost swells to fill your hearing completely, counterbalanced by the noise from within the cabin- the slight shuffling of bodies, or cargo moving in it's fastenings, all underpinned by the muted rattling of the engine beneath the floor.

It was all so small, wasn't it?

You blink, and turn your head slightly. “What was that, sir?”

"Today's gross." He commands again.

Without blinking or hesitating, you answer. “Two hundred eighty thousand nine hundred twenty seven thrones, three hundred twenty seven tonnes material moved across eight shipments, efficiency ninety two percent with a loss of one between transit and delivery. I am ready to transcribe a paper copy at any time.” Your hand moves to wipe a slight drip of fluid from the autoquill strapped to your right arm.

"Very good." Your master said shortly. “You may do so after you finish mopping up.”

"Mopping up?" You raise your head with a furrowed brow, still trying to wipe the ink dripping from your autoquill.

"Yes, the gnats that threaten this venture. After all, that's all your kind is good for, isn't it?"

"Sir...?" Something spilled from your fingers, and you look down, coming face-to-face with your arm stretching out before you. Fingers melded into whirling teeth, spilling freely with oil and blood that ran down your arm, spilling onto the floor as you stumbled back from your master, who turned to display a wicked grin, and an empty pit in his skull where his eyes should be-

You jerk awake with a soft snort, raising your head with bleary eyes and looking around the cabin. The light filtering through the windows had become muted, making it seem oddly like night within the hive. Glancing towards the driver's cabin, you could still see the bright lights of the highway lumens, as if nothing had changed outside. You frown and furrow your brow at the conflicting scenery, before it clicked- the branching tunnels and side passages that came off the main highway had dimmed their lumens. It was night in the hive.

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>>5899269
Glancing around, you could see that the entire rest of the cabin had curled up in their seats, leaned over cargo and found places in which to sleep. Nobody moved, and even the small stablights affixed to the ceiling of the cabin were switched off. Fighting off a small yawn, you look around and...

>Move to the driver's cabin for some privacy.
>Try to work quietly, so as not to disturb the others.
>[Vigilance] Snoop around while everyone is unassuming.
>[Write-In]

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>>5899265
Glad you're back Bentus, hopefully warm and ready.

>>5899271
>>Try to work quietly, so as not to disturb the others.

>>5899271
>Try to work quietly, so as not to disturb the others
Work on what?
>[Write-In] Use [Logic] to determine how far we have traveled thus far.

>>5899286
>Work on what?
That'll be the next vote. Although if you have something specific you want to do, feel free to suggest it now.

>>5899271
>Try to work quietly, so as not to disturb the others.

>Try to work quietly, so as not to disturb the others
As for the next vote (what to work on), I suggest:
>Perform some quiet prayers to yourself.
Since we didn't fully perform our thanks to the Omnissiah before.

>>5899271
>>Try to work quietly, so as not to disturb the others.

>>5899271
>Move to the driver's cabin for some privacy.

>Try to work quietly, so as not to disturb the others.
Writing.

Now that everyone was asleep, maybe you could work more freely.

You slide your bag out from between your feet, first checking to make sure the plate was still where you'd left it. Thankfully, it was. Along with everything else. You go through your things again, a free hand slipping beneath your robes as you check for your tools and pistol beneath. The sleeves of y our jacket slipped around your wrists as they caught on your clothes, making you tug them back up as you pull your hands out from beneath your robes.

It's as you work that you notice a slight green light out of the corner of your eye.

Glancing up, you see that the enginseer - Tobias Ext-27 - was awake, although he wasn't looking your way. The green reflection of his optics still shone from beneath his hood, though, reflecting the light from the road outside the vehicle. That likely figured. Most techpriests would have likely eliminated their need for sleep with augmetics, although the thought of never sleeping again mostly made you feel tired when you tired to imagine it. There was something peaceful about it that you tried to enjoy.

...‘tried’?

You dismiss the strange thought, letting the near-silence of the cabin settle in around you.

>"So what is the Machine God?"
>Pull out your icon. You never finished praying, before.
>[Manipulation] Attempt to adjust the fit of your jacket with a few improvised tools.
>Now that nobody is fawning, maybe you can properly care for the plate.
>Make sure your laspistol is okay now that nobody's paying attention.
>[Write-In]

>>5900730
>[Manipulation] Attempt to adjust the fit of your jacket with a few improvised tools.

>>5900730
>"So what is the Machine God?"
>Pull out your icon. You never finished praying, before.

>>5900730
>>5900752
>"So what is the Machine God?"
>Pull out your icon. You never finished praying, before.
something like it feels right that in the world of man, there is an aspect looking after ourselves and another after our creations that inspired Lebesnati to look into it and venerate? Also she prayed to both while escaping the mutants and the trucks and maimed driver survived despite the apparent odds.

The enginseer appreciate the facts.

>>5900790

Supporting

>>5900730
>>Pull out your icon. You never finished praying, before

>>5900730
>[Manipulation] Attempt to adjust the fit of your jacket with a few improvised tools.
sounds good. It should prevent us from fumbling with our stuff.

>>5900730
>[Manipulation] Attempt to adjust the fit of your jacket with a few improvised tools.

>>5900730
>Pull out your icon. You never finished praying, before.

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Slightly unusual tie, but same as any other I suppose. 1 for the jacket, 2 for speaking to Tobias.

Reaching up, you gently grab at the collar of your coat, slipping it off your shoulders easily while being careful to avoid hitting the girl sleeping next to you. Pulling your arms out, you flip the jacket around and carefully lay it out on the floor beneath you. The embroidered tapestry stuck out slightly in the low light of the interior, outlining the intricate suns and iconography all over it. It was gorgeous, apparently would open certain doors in the right places... and it fit you horribly.

The sleeves frequently slipped past your wrists, could tangle up your fingers, and the baggy torso left it slipping off your shoulders, which slid around inside it. Not ideal, and potentially a hazard for you if it got caught on something at a critical moment. The fit would have to change, which was a problem, as you had no idea how to work with leather.

You could memorize pages of information as fast as it could be read to you, run calculations faster than most cogitators, estimate the size of objects at arbitrary distances to millimeter precision, write shorthand and recite a few arbitrary decades of Odrev's history, but leatherworking had surprisingly not been among them. Estimation would surely be helpful, but it would not steady your hands or tell you were you could cut the hide. What tools you had were ill-suited to the task, unless you could somehow figure out a use for a hammer and blowtorch on a piece of vatgrown leather.

The second problem was that you had no idea what you were even supposed to alter it into. Did you just make it fit, or was it more proper to adjust the way it sat on your body, as well? Cad was a man, after all, and so his jacket was far more square-shouldered and wide-waisted than you were. Should you just maintain it's proportions and try to shrink it somehow? Could you even do that? Supposedly soaking leather would cause it to contract, could you do that until it was your size...? You didn't know much about fashion, either, other than a few tidbits on how you were supposed to dress to please your employer- but that was mostly a grooming standard for your hair and clothes.

Only the most modest changes would likely be reversible without accepting a need to patch it later, or some kind of craftsman's miracle. Granted, you're fairly certain you've witnessed a few miracles, now.

>"They don't happen to teach enginseers anything about tailoring, do they?"
>Sew loops into the inside of the jacket, letting you draw it tight with a strap at the expense of making it seem much puffier.
>Perhaps you could shrink it with a vat of water? Preferably not your drinking water.
>Cut it down until it's small enough that it doesn't interfere with your movement.
>Try to retailor it by hand so that it's smaller and has more feminine proportions.
>[Write-In]

>[Optional] Try to shorten the hem until it's above your waist.

>>5902644


>Sew loops into the inside of the jacket, letting you draw it tight with a strap at the expense of making it seem much puffier.

This has the advantage of being reversible by an experienced tailor, who will no doubt shake their head sadly at the incompetent sewing work

>>5902644
>"They don't happen to teach enginseers anything about tailoring, do they?"
>Sew loops into the inside of the jacket, letting you draw it tight with a strap at the expense of making it seem much puffier.

Still voting for banter

>>5902644
>Sew loops into the inside of the jacket, letting you draw it tight with a strap at the expense of making it seem much puffier.

>>5902644
>Try to retailor it by hand so that it's smaller and has more feminine proportions.
>[Optional] Try to shorten the hem until it's above your waist.

>>5902644
>Try to retailor it by hand so that it's smaller and has more feminine proportions.
>[Optional] Try to shorten the hem until it's above your waist.

>>5903085
+1

>>5903085
+1

>Try to retailor it by hand so that it's smaller and has more feminine proportions.
>[Optional] Try to shorten the hem until it's above your waist.

>>5904028
Whoops, forgot 'writing'.

Snip.

Working carefully, you shear through the main body of leather, nearly thirty centimeters of leather falling away as you work the heavy tool through the hide. It wasn't really suited for this sort of task - they were for cutting conduits and shearing heavy rubber - but they cut the hide easily so long as you held it taunt. It clipped some of the embroidered designs and cut others in half, but it was impossible to avoid them all. They covered the entire jacket, leaving some space between the designs, but not enough to cut around them.

With another snip, you cut the long strip free, letting it land on top of your legs as you hold the jacket up and turn it back and forth. The line was straight, and you couldn't help a slight flush of satisfaction at how flat the line was. Perhaps the natural warping and waves in leather would fool a regular artisan, but you were no ordinary human. You hardly even found the shaking and bumping of the floor to be a hindrance.

Setting it down on your lap again, you examine the stitches that hold the sleeves on. They were machine-done, and as precise as you could be, you didn't know how to stitch clothing. Or really, stitching at all. At least, not well. Murmuring something about the Omnissiah and your needle under your breath, you find the point where the threads meet and cut it. Using the tip of a pen, you begin working the stitching back from it's holes, one loop at a time. You didn't have any cloth, and you knew that stitching was good, and so you do you utmost to preserve the thread, even if that requires you running the steadily lengthening line of thread back through every individual hole, teasing the machine stitch apart from both sides.

Gradually, the sleeve in your hands starts to detach, while you keep working as your task stretches from minutes into hours.

“...what are you doing?”

You look up at Tobias automatically, then realize that the voice was both not vox-synthesized and also a true whisper. Glancing behind you and to your right, you see one of the technomats who was seated on the cargo to the rear. He squinted at you in the gloom, which let you notice for the first time the slight augmetics that peeked from behind his hairline. “I'm working.”

“You're ruining a perfectly good jacket?”

“No.” You reply, mildly offended. “I'm altering it.”

“You cut off half of it."

“I don't need half of it. It hangs on me.” You turn back to your stitching.

“You could make a second jacket with that..."

“No.” You undo another stitch and begin pulling the thread through. “It would be smaller than this will be.”

His tone came back with more irritation this time. “It was an expression. I can't believe you're just going to throw all that out.”

>"I'm not going to throw it out. It's a second project."
>"It's just a material. Not a machine."
>"Sometimes we have to alter our gifts from their natural forms."
>"Do you want it?"
>[Write-In]

>>5904090

>"I'm not going to throw it out. It's a second project."

Kek, chill, cogboi

>>5904090
>>"I'm not going to throw it out. It's a second project."

>>5904090
>"I'm not going to throw it out. It's a second project."

>>5904090
>"I'm not going to throw it out. It's a second project."

>>5904090
>"I'm not going to throw it out. It's a second project."

>>5904090
>>"Do you want it?"

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>>5904090
>"I'm not going to throw it out. It's a second project."

Could make a satchel/backpack/skirt depending on how many we're trimming here.

>"I'm not going to throw it out. It's a second project."

>>5904090
>"I'm not going to throw it out. It's a second project."

>>5904090
>"I'm not going to throw it out. It's a second project."

>"I'm not going to throw it out. It's a second project."
Writing.

>>5904791
Suppose I could throw in an option to use the fabric to make a pouch for the plate.

“I'm not going to throw it out.” You slowly pull another stitch loose, requiring you to pull the entire thread you had unraveled so far all the way through. This was slow work, and you would probably spend several days working on the stitching itself. “It's a second project.”

He spends a few more moments looking, then frowns. “Don't you have a needle?"

You glance up. “Of course not.”

“You're not going to be able to make any new stitches without an auto-needle.”

You stop working for a moment. “Do you have one that I could borrow?”

“Of course not?”

“Then what else am I to do?” You say plainly. “Clearly, I shall have to improvise a needle later.”

“What, and redo all of the stitching by hand?”

“If I need to.” You say, turning back to your work and working another thread through.

“I don't see that really being...”

“Feasible? Probably not." You concede. “But it's progress to be made. Maybe I'll just buy equipment wherever I wind up next.”

“You're a strange one.” He shook his head. “Why even care about the appearance? Clothing is clothing.”

That struck you as a strange sentiment coming from a member of the Mechanicus. After all, they were very particular to include red in their clothing, but when you glance at him, you can't happen to notice the bagginess of his robes, which bunched awkwardly around his hips and shoulders where the others showed more variety, usually displaying the symbol of their order in small ways beneath more practical clothes. A stole in particular appeared to be popular, and you supposed it would make for easily transferring it between different outfits, instead of having to remake an entire robe each time it was damaged. Both were pragmatic - reflecting the same values, even - just in different ways.

So, even the Mechanicus had different modes of thought on these things.

The others were beginning to stir slightly, partially responding to the increasing light outside the vehicle and also the increased noise. A part of you wondered how much ground you could have covered down on the foundations like this, with a vehicle that never needed to stop so it's driver could sleep.

>"I don't like to comport myself in an unkempt way."
>"It's a task to occupy myself with."
>"The lack of fit compromises my coordination."
>"I don't quite know. I just feel the urge to create."
>"I'm going to use the remainder to properly hold Corvus Lictor's plate. It's only fitting that the covering came from the people who helped me."
>"There's plenty of patchwork I could use it for. Pockets, a small bag..."
>"I'm not sure yet. Think I'll save it."
>[Write-In]

>>5905198

>"The lack of fit compromises my coordination."

Surely this sort of autism must be understandable to him

>>5905198
>clothes serve a function if not can be a inefficient hazard compromising coordination and getting caught in machinery at import moments leading to accidents maiming up to immediate

>>5905198
>>"The lack of fit compromises my coordination."

>>5905198
>"The lack of fit compromises my coordination."

>>5905198
>"The lack of fit compromises my coordination."

>>5905225
This will either result in a mechanicus nudist schism, or tons of people going around in bodygloves. Either way, nice.

>>5905679
only time the robes really makes sense is after the heavy modifications they are only so flowly to allow for a universal uniform

>>5905679
You fool, that's the first step to spawning a Slaneshii cult.
Oh sure, it starts with a bodygloves, then before you know it, people are having wild sex parties and a keeper of secrets spawns.

>>5905198
>"I don't like to comport myself in an unkempt way."
Our vatborn wanting to look good is cute. She went and bought an entire dress instead of the other options.

>>5906162
Y'know what, sure. Changing my vote to support this.

>>5905198
>"I don't like to comport myself in an unkempt way."
>[Write-In]
One's appearance shapes how one is treated. In my current station, or lack thereof, I must take measures to present myself befitting of goodwill. It is simple diplomacy, subtle, and it only costs me time and labor, which is a currency I have in abundance.

>>5905198
>"I don't like to comport myself in an unkempt way."

With the one vote change, I believe it's:
>"I don't like to comport myself in an unkempt way."
Writing.

>>5905198
>"I'm going to use the remainder to properly hold Corvus Lictor's plate. It's only fitting that the covering came from the people who helped me."

>>5906456
prob too late for this one

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“I don't like to comport myself in an unkempt way.” You undo another loop, and the sleeve sags another centimeter under it's own weight. When no response comes, you glance up and see him clearly trying to parse your word choice. “...I don't like to look messy.”

His expression flattened. “Fashion.” His words dripped with slight derision. “Why am I not surprised.”

“Appearances matter. Especially for those of us who serve the houses.” You turn back to your needlework- or rather, fingerwork. “For a techpriest, it is probably the care you have for your tools, or for your forges. The tool of a scribe is our body, how we carry ourselves, the reflection we have on the house we serve- if I cannot bother to comb my hair or clean my robes, what else will I fail to do?”

“Fancy words, but like most meatba- laypeople, you're just excusing your own grooming and... organic advertisement." He corrected himself with the effort of long practice, but you found yourself more baffled by what had followed.

“...do you believe that cleaning yourself is something only done in pursuit of...” You shake your head, suddenly baffled by an opinion so blatantly detached from reality. Is that why he was so unkempt? "I alter my clothes for fit, for appearance, honor and respect. Simply letting it sag would be slovenly.”

Before he could respond, the vehicle suddenly slowed, and you heard a soft grunt from your left as your bench partner suddenly roused from her slumber. “Mr'we there yet?” She mumbled, shrugging herself upwards.

“Indeed we are.” Tobias boomed, rousing most of his retinue just by speaking. “Electromechanical Shrine Secundus-Factor-VII. This conduit runs directly to Sigma-Ros-08, and by it's proper blessing and communion we shall be able to ascertain the initial status of Sigma-Ros-08.” The deck of the vehicle pitched slightly as he spoke, your back being pulled slightly against the wall as the whole thing turned, bringing you around. Past Tobias, you could see the disembodied servitor-brain whirling in it's glass case, aiming it's eyes around the turn as it pulled you into your destination.

The half-asleep technomat fumbled beneath her, finding a bag of tools and pulling them close, fishing in the pockets before producing some kind of drink that she began sipping blearily. Voices from outside the hull were becoming louder, and you couldn't help but perk up a bit as you put your work away for now. You nearly had the first sleeve off, but there was no point in hurrying if you might be able to get your hands on an auto-needle in the near future. If you were even stopping at a town, that is.

>>5906768
When the techpriests had gathered themselves enough to finally pull open the door for the day, you couldn't help but follow, pulling your bag close and peeking out the door after they had all filed out. You found yourself surprised by how much activity was beyond the doors, despite any apparent square or city structure - the area appeared to be a simple street, with corridors at regular intervals - workers and servants moved past in a steady trickle, going about their daily business. While there weren't as many as you had seen in some of the underhive cities, what struck you was just how many different people moved through.

The places you had been before, those were centers, swirling with bodies that moved around and worked, but very few of which actually passed through. Here, a quick mental estimate told you that if you were observing average throughput, you'd see more people pass through here in an hour than you had seen in your entire life. Paradoxically, it was quieter, without merchants or casual conversation to split the air, just the pleasant background hum of people occasionally leaning into a hive unit, purchasing a small pastry or dropping off a bag for one stall owner or another, someone who barely counted as a clerk, much less a merchant.

After you drop down, you see the techpriests gathering together, the technomats conferring while Tobias apparently contemplated something. They moved as a group, and you found yourself wondering if you should feel obligated to go with them. Were they simply assuming that you would follow them, so as not to upset them, or did they simply plan to leave you behind if you were not here when they departed again? If you could be left to your own devices for a bit, it could serve as time to plan and prepare...

>Go with them.
>Head out on your own, away from prying eyes.

>>5906772
>Go with them.

>>5906772

>Go with them.

>>5906772
>>Go with them.

>>5906772
>Head out on your own, away from prying eyes.

>>5906772
>Go with them.

>>5906772
>Go with them.

>>5906772
>Go with them.

>Go with them.
We rollin' with the admech crew. Writing.

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No point, really. You would only have a short time to get your bearings and prepare, during which time you would be on your own. Rather than gamble that you could find anything useful to do, you draw close to the gathering of techpriests as they began to pull close to one of the walls. The shrine must be near, otherwise they would have driven closer, and you're proven right as the group moves down one of the passenger corridors, fanning out around Tobias Ext-27 as if he was a dignitary come to grace one of the high customs officers and not a enginseer visiting what sounded like a power junction.

Your first instinct proves true as they approach a seemingly random maintenance hatch, one of the technomats rushing forward to crank it open so Tobias can approach without breaking stride. From your position trailing behind everyone, you thought you could detect one of his mechadendrites twitching slightly in amusement.

Stepping beyond the hatch, you're surprised to find yourself in what seems to be a kind of maintenance corridor, instead of a bundle of pipes or circuit breakers like most of these hatches were supposed to conceal. Instead, there was a short corridor that seemed to lead to electrical systems within the walls of the hive itself. How many of these secret passages were concealed behind mundane maintenance panels?

Pipes and cabling ran under the grating beneath your feet, and the entire party shuffled single file behind Tobias, journeying around the edge of the hab block the maintenance corridor was concealed inside, taking a seemingly arbitrary right, then another that would position you deep within the walls of the local dwellings and distribution centers- a room concealed near it's neighbors by removing it's door and linking it to the maintenance access area. You were immediately struck by the familiarity of the strategy: it was how the Suns had forcibly redrawn the borders around the corpsegrinders, just more sophisticated. Without seeing them open it for yourself, you would have never guessed that the hatch concealed more than just pipes, it was a Abraham-pattern Heavy Equipment Latch, after all. Cheap, but efficient, and definitely not secure.

Tobias stopped for the first time, clasping his hands together and bowing his head briefly before the door, his vox suddenly blaring to full volume and letting out a deep, thudding series of binary beats. The technomats close to him followed with soft hums, although their voices remained low, almost embarrassed at the sound. Touching the door, it slid open on it's own, giving you a brief view of the Cog Mechanicum embossed on it's front before it slid into it's recessed alcove.

>>5907867
The procession began to move into the room, with the last technomat - Hollie, you realized - pushing past you after she shut the maintenance hatch behind you. Following her, you approach the door and glance into the interior of Electromechanical Shrine Secundus-Factor-VII. The room was smaller than you expected, but free of pews and donation boxes as you'd expect from other shrines. Instead, the room was absolutely filled with well-maintained, combed and organized cables each thicker around than you were. They fed under the floor and into boxes at the far side of the room, which transformed them into hundreds, if not thousands of regular-sized cables that wove around each other and pushed into the walls and ceiling, feeding the next several blocks with energy. Most of the large cables continued onward- to the west, by your reckoning.

Tobias was walking up to the junction box, seemingly going for the shrine and cogitator set into the wall, ignoring a single servitor that dumbly wore away at a melted plastic clip that had twisted from the heat of the cables over time.

Hollie passed through the door, turning around to do something to the door control. Realizing that you were looking in, she scowled at you briefly, as if annoyed that you were even there.

>Step into the room.
>Watch the proceedings from outside.
>Stay outside while they conduct their ritual.

>>5907869
>Watch the proceedings from outside

>>5907869
>Watch the proceedings from outside.

>>5907869

>Watch the proceedings from outside.

We shouldn’t overstep here

>>5907869
>>Stay outside while they conduct their ritual.

>>5907869
>Stay outside while they conduct their ritual.

>>5907869
>Stay outside while they conduct their ritual.

Got called in, so I'll leave the vote open for now and close it when I'm back home.

>>5907869
>Watch the proceedings from outside.

>>5907869
>Step into the room.

Fires put out, and that looks like a...
>Watch the proceedings from outside.
Writing.

You make no move to cross the threshold into the ritual chamber itself, standing just outside the door, but clearly in a position to observe. Hollie went to manipulate the door control, and rather than force her to keep it open, you step inside so she can close it behind you. She huffed a little, but clearly didn't see it as important enough to put up a fight over, and swept off to join the others as they gathered in front of the cogitator at the front of the room.

The technomats were retrieving small bronze icons of some manner, one revealing that the bag he carried was actually full of votive candles, with which he replaced the candles mounted to the braziers of the tech-shrine with a well-practiced, easy knock to remove the melted down wax stubs. Another pair had produced a full brazier from somewhere, setting it up to the side of the cogitator before evidently reconsidering and moving it to the other side based on some ritual logic of theirs.

Everyone had a purpose, and they treated their jobs, even the ones as simple as holding the small bronze icons - which you could see actually appeared to be twisted cables - as seriously as Tobias examined the cogitator and Hollie organized the technomats, forming a strange pattern where six technomats stood in a seemingly arbitrary pattern. This was their entire life, you suppose. The ritual maintenance and activation of technology. And in a way, you suppose they would never have a hope of becoming full techpriests - if any of them were even trying - unless they could prove their mastery of mysteries so simple an enginseer could head them. Although, Tobias seemed like an Archmagos in comparison with the others.

The group suddenly grew muted, and with a quick glance at Tobias, one of the technomats lit the brazier with a spark from a concealed augmetic.

Instantly, foul smoke poured from the steel basin, rushing up to the rafters and through the grating into the cables that ran the room. Surprisingly, you could swear you felt the charge in the room part slightly, an odd gap opening up in the background hum of the electronics as the smoke billowed through. It smelled oddly of ozone, but that made it smell almost clean in comparison to some of the recycled air in the hive.

The technomats bent their heads, and began humming, pressing the bronze icons - talismans, really - to their heads as they settled into a low drone. They pitched their voices up and down in soft, sharp leaps that seemed to mimic the complex, thrumming hums starting to be emitted from Tobias' vox unit. You could feel the power in him, the presence of his voice seemingly pushing the energy in the room back. Golden light gathered around his head, pooling in his chest and rising into the air in smooth, golden waves.

>>5910215
You find yourself watching it more than the ritual itself. Both were a form of language and meaning that were beyond you, both the golden light was rather pleasant to look at, just like the stars you had been watching in the foundations. It didn't dissipate like smoke, but shimmered and pulsed on the ceiling, almost like a... like a...

Hah. You weren't sure, actually. A magnetic storm, perhaps? Those were supposed to create immense rays of light, but... they likely didn't have... tides? You cock your head slight at the thought, but let your gaze be torn away as Tobias seemingly reaches the apex of his binary chant, reaching forward and manipulating the cogitator controls with deft hands and mechadendrites. The technomats bring their voices into a low, even hum as the cogitator flickers, then displays an image.

Tobias and the closest two technomats lean into the display. “The spirits are willing.” Tobias announces. “Diagnostic machine-link achieved with the blessed manufactorum Sigma-Ros-08. Praise the Omnissiah.”

A chorus of replies sounded as the technomats ceased their humming and raised their heads, although they kept the talismans clasped tight. A lull settled down upon the room as Tobias manipulated the cogitator, images flashing past as he reviewed the reports given by the spirits of the shrine. Tobias paused, then some more images and diagrams flashed by. One of his mechadendrites spun, and you realized he was flipping between a few similar images, one after the other.

“Enginseer?” One of the nearby technomats spoke up, clearly confused. “Does the data-decanter require pleasing?” When Tobias didn't reply, he leaned in. “I- woah.”

“Is it supposed to say that?” One of the other technomats asked- and you recognized him as the shabbily dressed one who had been so confused by your alteration of your jacket.

The glow in the air twitched slightly, and you glance up, distracted by it's sudden movement. The hum of the machinery around you pressed back in slightly, needling at the back of your mind as the effects of whatever tech ritual had been done seemed to wane slightly, the spirits seemingly coasting on it's effect, compliant until they were inconvenienced enough to require soothing again.

“How much is-” The technomat didn't get a chance to finish before his shoulder abruptly exploded.

A storm of electrical arcs burst from his shoulder, tearing the robe apart as bone shrapnel tore his robes, the sheer force of the discharge releasing a wave of force that whipped at the clothes of the other technomats, the ones closest to him jerking back and shouting as arcs struck their clothes, leaving scorched pock marks on cloth and bouncing off leather in a spray of sparks.

Something flicked past your shoulder.

>[Conditioning/Strain] Strike it without thinking.
>[Conditioning] Rush to the center of the room.
>Go for the door control.
>Curse out the Omnissiah for this one.
>[Write-In]

>>5910216
>[Conditioning/Strain] Strike it without thinking.

>>5910216
>>Go for the door control.

>>5910216
>[Conditioning/Strain] Strike it without thinking.

>>5910216
>Go for the door control.
>Silently curse out the Omnissiah for this one.

>>5910216
>[Conditioning/Strain] Strike it without thinking.

>>5910216
>>[Conditioning/Strain] Strike it without thinking.

>>5910216
>[Conditioning/Strain] Strike it without thinking.

Rolled 7 (1d10)

>[Conditioning/Strain] Strike it without thinking.
PUNCH. Hey, I think this is the first time we've gotten to roll Genolysis' extra feature.

>>5911745
Eyy, no Strain.

I've reached the point in my worldbuilding that finding relevant images is really fucking hard now without custom mocking something up in photoshop or illustrator. Maybe I should find an artist who can do some sketches for the key visuals, because even if I wanted to get good at drawing to make paint visuals for everything, I don't really have the time to.

File: amen amen gospel amen off(...).png (412 KB, 916x1495)

412 KB PNG

You turn without thinking, moving faster than you thought possible. Your heart begins to beat madly, blood roars in your ears and your skin breaks out in pins and needles as something floods your system, fueling your arm as it strikes out with shocking speed and power.

It wasn't enough to make you throw a punch properly, however. Your form felt sloppy, and instead of driving a hardened fist straight into the side of the creature, your curled palm effectively slapped into it, your soft hand bending on impact.

Your hand passed through something that made the hair on the back of your neck stand up on end, your gut churning with hatred and horror as it was thrown away, and your hand exploded with a sudden shower of electrical arcs.

Instantly, your arm went numb, fingers spasming and burning with pain as electrical arcs erupted from the creature you had struck, scoring your gown and leaving pockmarks in the leather of your bodysuit. You gasp in pain as your punch swings to a stop, grasping your arm as your hand spasms with the power of the Motive Force. Where you had struck, the charge was so great that despite the leather insulating your arm, your entire body was still forced back, your boots skidding slightly on the floor as you spun. The air suddenly smelled of ozone, and something spun away from you with a sound of arcing electricity.

It hurt more than it likely would have for other people, certainly, but your arms had comparatively little soft tissue compared to the rest of your body. You brought your hand up, seeing where the hand of your bodyglove had been burnt by the electrical shock. As the whole thing was made from synthleather, it was a decent insulator, but not nearly enough to prevent it from being burnt open in places, parts of the construction melting onto your skin and exposing the burned and bleeding wounds on your hand.

The pain was already dulling. The bleeding slowing to a stop as scabs formed, and as something deep inside you clenches, flooding your body with sudden strength and alertness.

Dice result 7. [Genolysis] has prevented a point of Strain from accumulating.

You look up. Something had separated from the energy when you had slapped it. In the spot you were sure it would have landed, there was nothing- wait. Something moved against the plascrete where it had landed, but you couldn't see it. What you could see was a slight haze in the air, betraying the edges of where the thing was, and where it had just left. A bulbous head and several soft, slippery arms coiled against the cabling on the wall, and then it was gone.

You blink.

“Hey, c'mon. Speak to me..."

File: Status 12.png (1.59 MB, 1920x1038)

1.59 MB PNG

>>5912035
You turn, and see the fallen technomat surrounded by others, one propping him up while Hollie and another ripped open his torn robes, exposing an augmetic shoulder- or rather, the remains of one. It had blown apart from within as every circuit inside had been overcharged, opening up his shoulder and allowing blood red to wash over his robes. They were trying to staunch the bleeding, but most of them sounded confused.

“Why'd his shoulder overload like that?”

“Did we anger the spirits?”

You blink. You would have thought they would have all been diving for cover in terror, but they were just trying to deal with their fallen friend, his still-standing partner stabilizing the braizer as whatever was inside continued to burn. Tobias stood above them all, his mechadendrites moving in agitation, unfurling from beneath his robe to reveal tool tips and scanning equipment as he looked around. The two of you share a brief look, while you nurse your burnt hand.

Without anything to say, all you can do is try to shrug. The movement comes out tight and unnatural, but it was all you could manage before one of the technomats to the rear of the crowd stands. “Keep him breathing. I'll fetch a medicae." He turns for the wall, running past you.

You feel a flash of irritation that he didn't think to fetch someone for you, either, but the thought barely comes before the lights dim. The hairs stand up on the back of your neck again, and you turn as the running man reaches out for the panel controlling the door. Your lips open to shout a warning to step back, to stay away from the power gathering in that box, but too late. Inches away from the panel, it suddenly explodes with energy, and bolt flying out and surprisingly missing the man by a wide margin.

It flies past you as well, and your head whips around just in time to see the technomat on the other side of Tobias jerk back. The Motive Force breathes into life within his skull, and with a scream compelled by the nerves in his vocal chords and lungs, he slumps back, all the hair on his head and the neck of his robe bursting into flame as the power of the charge burns in his skull. The smell of cooking meat wafts over you, and the features of his face are hidden by a gout of steam- which is probably a blessing, as you see several things hanging from his face or running down it as he slumps backwards against an electrical socket on the wall, sliding to a stop beside it.

You stare, as a few of the technomats finally scream, clutching their fallen brethren and looking around in fear.

The lights dim again.

>[Write-In]

>>5912037

What the fuck, is this a lesser daemon of the Omnissiah or something?

I say we bail, flee!

>A bulbous head and several soft, slippery arms coiled against the cabling on the wall, and then it was gone.

I don't suppose anyone recognizes whatever the hell this thing is? Otherwise, best thing I can come up with is to just stay away from electronics? It's able to escape into electrical devices, perhaps try and bait it into smacking into the battery of our lasgun? From there, cover it in some insulating material?

>>5912052
It seems like a space octopus, but unless it's some Genestealer/tyranid thing, I have no idea.
They're not expected to be electrical.

We need medical treatment and the team needs reassurance.
>Triage. Check your arm and request any bandages or fabric strips from the dead crew member. Stem any bleeding on whoever needs it, Lebesnati or the work crew.

>>5912037
>[Write-In] Snatch up the power pack from your laspistol and try to jab at the creature's last position with the charging diode. The exterior casing should be marvelously well insulated.

>>5912037
>Try to bait it out by getting close to an electrical socket, then throw your lasgun battery pack at it when it jumps out.

Well, here's hoping this might knock it out of the air and trap it. I'm wary of trying to shoot the thing as it can just turn into electricity, so who even knows if a lasgun would work. Punching it certainly does.

>>5912037
>>5912302
Switching to supporting >>5912301
Far better than what I had in mind.

>>5912301
Supporting.

>>5912301
+1

>>5912037
>>5912301
Supporting

>>5912301
+1

>>5912037
Support >>5912301

>>5912301

Wow, that’s pretty smart. I’ll change my old vote to support

>>5912048

Also QM - looks like this quest is finally attracting the attention it deserves, good for you

>>5912301
+1

>>5912676
Give his previous quest a read

>>5912676
If only Bentus did not die so often.....

>[Write-In] Snatch up the power pack from your laspistol and try to jab at the creature's last position with the charging diode. The exterior casing should be marvelously well insulated.
I think this is the first time I've read a write-in and audibly gone: "That's such a good fucking idea."

>>5913142
I do not die, I cannot be killed. I merely am forced to slumber.

>>5912676
I'm a little baffled by where all the people came from.

Your hand darts inside the drooping sleeve of your robe, and you rip the laspistol out of it's holster, bringing it out to bear. A few of the technomats jerk back from you, eyes widening at the weapon in your hand, their eyes filling with fear and accusation.

Instead of turning it on them as they expected, though, you flip the pistol over in your hand, grip the power cell and rip it out of the pistol. These were ancient, perfected designs. You knew it yourself- the crates could arrive cracked, dented, shattered, water-logged, void-burnt, even frozen... and the packs inside would be completely undamaged. They were sturdy enough to be used as makeshift hammers, even made into explosive devices if they were severely overcharged.

You glance down at the exposed pins jutting out of the plastic housing. There were four in total, arranged in a cube next to each other- two for discharging into a lasgun, the other two for receiving power. You knock it against your hand nervously, hopefully displacing any dust that could have blocked the bare pins.

The lights flickered again, and the thing launched itself again before you could try and pin the pin against the receptacle. You turn your head towards the power receptacle, but instead of the bolt of light emerging from it, it flies over your head. You swivel on the spot, only for it to fly past you again, trailing sparks and stray arcs of electricity that puncture your gown and rain off your bodyglove in a shower of sparks. The arcs were pelting everyone else, as well- mostly the group forced to ground around the fallen technomat.

“W-what did we do wrong?" One of them whimpers, looking up at Tobias. “Is this death?”

“Calm yourself.” The enginseer took a step outwards to touch the technomat on the shoulder, only to jerk back with a stuttering hiss from his vox as an arc of lightning shot from the receptacle next to the fallen technomat and arced up to one of the ceiling lights. Stray bolts struck his robes, making whatever augmetics he possessed under it whine in protest. “This is not a creature of the Omnissiah, it is an abomination! Steel yourselves, my children! As we practiced!”

Of the three who had conducted the ritual, only he was left standing, the other two on the ground dying or possibly already dead. They had made themselves the most vulnerable getting that close, but the rest of you would be difficult for it to kill, if that was even it's goal. Perhaps like a sleeper, it simply was enraged by the intrusion upon it's habitat?

>>5913611
The lights began heavily flickering, and in the distance you could hear faint low-power alarms from the rest of the hive, while the creature jumped around you in bright streaks- from the ceiling lumen to the door panel, to the receptacle, to another receptacle across the room, to a simple lumen in the wall, then to the cogitator again and up into a different ceiling lumen, arcing down at one of the technomats and striking her on the shoulder, leaving her screaming and clutching the spasming, steaming ruin of muscle while the creature spun out to the corner of the room, quickly leaping itself into a nearby receptacle.

Your back met Hollie, who also strangely seemed to be mostly unarmed, just like you. Some of the leather forging gear had likely helped protect her, just as the leather of your bodyglove had helped protect you.

>[Write-In]

>>5913612
In the name of the Omnissiah I propose a very bad idea. Quickly open our pack and retrieve the flask with our remaining promethium, the spare strip of leather from our jacket, and one of the 'broken' dataslates. Using the leather strip, tie the fuel bottle to the slate, then throw towards the malignant entity. Hopefully the dataslate will 'attract' the thing to our improvised grenade, and the discharge it causes will rupture the flask and ignite the fuel. I don't know of any abominations that don't fear the fires of holy promethium.

Perhaps go out of position again? Anyone that tries to leave the group gets attacked, if the guy who got zapped when leaving to get a medicae is anything to go by. Lebesnati has shown herself to be fast enough to tag the thing, even without knowing it was coming, though it admittedly required a strain roll. Now that we have a weapon in the form of the lasgun battery, we should be able to do a better job by baiting it out via going to the entrance.

>>5913612
Run

>>5913971

Supporting, we need to draw power from the beast - 40k daemon pikachu

>>5913971
Support

>>5913971
Supporting.
This is gonna be tense.

>>5913971
+1

>Move out of position. Bait it by going for the entrance.
I think that's about the right of it. Writing.

>>5915272
hype building

Carefully, you heft the power pack in your hand. Hollie was beginning to hum behind you, but you ignored her.

The creature seemed to travel in straight lines- specifically, between power sources. The receptacles, the lumens, the cogitators, even the door panel. They all were part of the same electrical system, which it seemed to be able to travel through. So long as it returned to one of those, it could appear at any other. Once it had launched, though, it was on a straight line. Unless it hit something, or passed through to the other end of it's destination.

If it launched at you, theoretically you could put the power pack in it's path, baiting it to stow itself inside the fully-charged cell. You would just have to be quick, and put yourself between two power sources, to make it think you were an easy target.

The trick would be guessing from which directly it would attack you, as it would always have two directions it could approach. You'd have to be quick.

You reach out for the control panel, power pack held lightly in the same hand, as if you were merely using the same hand that held the power pack to open it. Internally, you tensed to whip the contacts into it's path as soon as it emerged, hoping that the pack would be enough to contain the creature, whatever it was.

Nothing happened as you approached the button on the panel, and so you decided to risk actually reaching out...

The button clicked down. The door slid open.

A spark, from behind you. You whirl, but instead of the streak of lightning flashing towards you, it struck the leg of one of the technomats, making her shriek with just the energy of a glancing hit coursing through her leg. The fallen technomat she helped cradle spasmed with the charge that conducted through her and into him, not able to truly hurt him and yet hastening his death all the same. A shaky chorus rose from the remaining technomats, frantically lead by Hollie, who shot pleading glances at the enginseer as she tried to keep her choir together and in-sync. A Mechanicus ritual of some kind, perhaps, like the holy hymns of the Ecclesiarchy, one meant for enraged machines such as this.

The enginseer, however, remained silent, dodging another pass by the creature with a hiss of effort as the creature passed mere inches from his robe. He was at a unique vulnerability, here. Surely, his implants were at least partially insulated, but that did not mean his vast array of augmetics could handle the amount of charge within your adversary. You weren't sure how you knew that. It just seemed like a logical deduction. The reason for his silence, however, eluded you.

>>5915363
You glance behind you. The door was still open. You could leave. That didn't make any sense, though. By the rules of how the creature seemed to move, you should have been attacked as soon as you attempted to leave the room, as soon as you crossed into an avenue it was able to attack - or even go for one of the other technomats, exposed as they were to it's line of fire - and yet the only ones who laid fallen on the ground were the two technomats...

...the two technomats.

The two technomats who had done the ritual with Tobias.

They had lit the brazier, they had leaned in with Tobias to look at the monitor, they had-

You had misjudged your enemy in it's entirety. This was no machine spirit, no aimless specter or little god displeased by a botched ritual. It did not attack at random, it attacked in a way that seemed almost familiar- the steady, methodical chipping away of a queue. No malice, it was purely dispassionate, taking out objectives on a list.

It was an assassin.

No attack would come on you because there was no reason to. You hadn't seen whatever was forbidden, whatever required it to eliminate you. The only one left was Tobias, who it would kill by an elaborate electrocution- no weapon marks, no wounds or unusual reports, just a death that would play perfectly into the wrath of an angry machine spirit. Defilers who neglected the Omnissiah's will, punished by their implants and frail organics being burned out by purifying lightning.

Or, so you felt. It was a logical military plan, as far as you knew of them. Which was to say, nothing except a feeling in your gut.

Something felt off about the picture, still. It seemed ill-suited to the task if you were correct, but for now you had a working theory. That, in theory, might allow you to manipulate it. It was only after Tobias, now. You could change that, perhaps spread the information, force the entity to work harder, spread itself thinner, letting you manipulate it into a particular pattern. But... you had no noospheric implants or vox. If Tobias said that information aloud, everyone in the room would become a ‘target’.

>"Tobias, quickly- what was the readout?"
>[Conditioning/Strain] Run to the cogitator and read it yourself.
>[Intuit/Strain] Knowing who the targets are, attempt to predict it's attack before it happens.
>Escape while the door is open.
>[Write-In]

>>5915366
>[Intuit/Strain] Knowing who the targets are, attempt to predict it's attack before it happens.

Intuit is one of our better stats.

>>5915366
>[Intuit/Strain] Knowing who the targets are, attempt to predict it's attack before it happens.
once again I am at a loss, but sure, lets fight the electricity demon assassin with very improvised 'weapons' and 'plans'

>>5915366
>[Conditioning/Strain] Run to the cogitator and read it yourself.

>>5915407
Support

>>5915366
>[Intuit/Strain] Knowing who the targets are, attempt to predict it's attack before it happens.

>>5915366
>>[Intuit/Strain] Knowing who the targets are, attempt to predict it's attack before it happens.

>>5915366
>[Intuit/Strain] Knowing who the targets are, attempt to predict it's attack before it happens.

Damn, I totally missed the logic behind its choice of targets.

>>5915366
>[Intuit/Strain] Knowing who the targets are, attempt to predict it's attack before it happens.

>>5915366
>[Intuit/Strain] Knowing who the targets are, attempt to predict it's attack before it happens.

>[Intuit/Strain] Knowing who the targets are, attempt to predict it's attack before it happens.
Writing.

File: Status 13.png (1.59 MB, 1920x1038)

1.59 MB PNG

There wasn't any time to come up with a craftier plan.

But, you didn't need a craftier plan, did you?

You had all the variables. You knew the targets, you had the lines of attack, and you had your eyes. Shuffling back and forth, your eyes dart around as you stand facing the center of the room. Flashes shot by you, leaping from lumen to cogitator to receptacle to receptacle to lumen, unleashing arcs of electricity as they passed, torturing the people hit by the stray bolts with the power of the Motive Force on their bodies. To their credit, the techomats continued to hum their strange counter chant, although it didn't seem to be having any effect.

Bolts flow past so quickly, becoming streaks in the darkness from dimming lumens as you drink in the trajectories, memorizing every single transit as if they were lines on your arrival schedule. Departures from Receptacle 01 to Lumen 02. Arrival at Cogitator 00. You count each and every single jump and transit, and allow your mind to settle, passively absorbing all the information.

You knew this far too well. Things were never truly random, even chaos had it's own rhythm. Ships arrived, needed different bays, different landers, times, no matter how perfectly choreographed. Yet, even those deviations had their own peculiar rhythm, beyond even that of statistical models. It wasn't just probability, but an understanding of how the port beat and moved like an organism.

Understanding like you had.

Your Strain has increased.

Arrival. Departure.

Arrival-

You lurched forward, before the entity even emerged, thrusting out the power pack in one hand as it launched. It burst from the lumens in the ceiling, attempting to feint away from Tobias by diverting to an outlet nearby the room, hoping to try and catch him on a return bounce. Now it was in the air, committed, unable to change course. You had the pack in it's way- it was going to catch it, trick the creature into falling into your impromptu prison, sending all that dangerously lethal power it had consumed into...

...into the power pack? Wait, weren't those dangerous if...

Out of your corner of your eye, you could see the widening eyes of one of the technomats, slowly starting to brace for what he knew was coming. You hadn't considered that. If the pack was empty, perhaps, but...

Wait. Before, when the creature had managed to make a direct impact, it had been sent spinning off away from it's intended destination, almost as if- it must be a solid entity. Able to transform into some state, but still solid enough to be hit, just like you had. If that separated it from it's electrical charge.

Something within you forced you to look up seeing the creature approaching. You had very little time, you...

>[Conditioning/Strain Check] Punch it again to separate it from it's charge.
>[Manipulation/Strain Check] Pull your bag around to use as an insulated shield.
>Allow it to enter. You'll figure it out.
>[Write-In]

>>5916700
>Allow it to enter. You'll figure it out.
Consider:
We have already tried to bareknuckle box this thing, and the powerpack is our response.
We are already in danger, even if the powerpack does overload, the door is open for us to throw it out of. Being in control of a dangerous situation is a vast improvement to being stuck in one.
Also, we have promethium in our bag, as well as ALL OF OUR EARTHLY POSSESSIONS.

>>5916700
>[Conditioning/Strain Check] Punch it again to separate it from it's charge.

Honestly, I was assuming that a laspistol power pack would've been enough to hold all of its energy considering the ridiculous amount of energy those things can hold. With that not being the case... I shall believe in the power of genolysis.

>>5916700
>Allow it to enter. You'll figure it out.

>>5916700
>[Conditioning/Strain Check] Punch it again to separate it from it's charge.

>>5916700
Legit hard to vote an option. I'm imagining a airtazer being shot around the room from place to place and we've now managed to intercept a course. Punching doesn't seem a good idea

>>5917170
Support this
>Allow it to enter. You'll figure it out.

>>5916700
>Allow it to enter. You'll figure it out.

>>5916700
>Allow it to enter. You'll figure it out.
I5 will not fall for it again all or nothing

>Allow it to enter. You'll figure it out.
Writing.

You push the thoughts down. Using your body as a shield wasn't an option. Using your bag as one wasn't an option, either. You had only the tiniest of seconds to react, and it wasn't enough.

Keeping your arm steady, you let your hand stretch out just slightly-

And let the entity collide with the charging pins.

You were expecting it to be dragged in, or maybe try to fight it's imprisonment once it realized what had happened. Perhaps it was more simpleminded than that, because as soon as the first spark made contact with the charging pins, the entire creature diverted itself. It's body compressed along the wrath of charge it carried with it wherever it launched, a multitude of sparks flowing past your zone and leaving a stench of ozone.

The arc leaves streaks in your eyes, but you force yourself to watch. This entity was unlike any creature you had ever encountered. What world did it originate from? Was it manufactured, genetampered as you were? Something in your gut twists at that thought, and you brush it aside as the last of the creature vanishes into the pack. You were not like it.

Immediately, you twist it away from any of the power sources in the room, so that if it tried to jump again, it'd just collide directly with the wall. It may have been a wasted effort, though. Your hand was barely turning and the pack in your hand was already beginning to heat to the point that it scalded your hand. The liquid metal core that contained the metal was boiling under the energy that it had just been forced to contain, pushing it to the point where it may very well vaporize. You didn't know the technology well, but you were fairly certain that gaseous metal was essentially analogous to a melta weapon, and the safety briefing you could recall supported that a faulty power pack could cause a deadly detonation.

It was going to blow. You couldn't avert that, now. Perhaps the fact that it's improvised would prevent the explosion from being particularly focused, but...

Your eyes are drawn to the door, and the empty hallway beyond. Would there be enough time for you to throw it down the hall? The detonation would put a wall or two between the room and the explosion. That should shield both you and the occupants of the room from the blast to an extent.

...except. What if it went off in the middle of your throw? Point blank in front of you, and also potentially exposing everyone else in the room to an airburst detonation, killing not just you, but everyone else. A part of you trusted in your inhuman biology, which thrummed and clenched inside of you with the promise of regenerative power and strength. You could make the throw, get it out. Take the hit on your shield.

>>5918297
Or, you could put yourself between the detonation and everyone else. You'd die, probably, but everyone else would live. Maybe you would regenerate? It seemed unlikely. Putting your bag down as an additional shield might help, but you'd hadn't blocked with it either for a similar reason. Everything you owned was in there, including the plate.

None of it mattered if you died, though.

Your irritation flared, and deep within you a rumble made itself known. Thoughts that weren't your own stirred, and inside you felt... hollow. Empty. No, not empty. Waiting? Vents open, chamber idling, hoppers ready. Something loomed behind you, limbs curling around you protectively, shielding you in spirit, but not in body.

A whisper sounded in your ear.

Not like now, with sound. Inside. Like a rush of vox static, carried on the wind. You tasted rust, felt soil beneath your feet, heard something screech.

The whisper was indistinct, only a single word, but even muffled you could glean the tiniest fragment of truth that made it to you, gifted to you. You blink away a tear and look down.

Energy was contained within this device. Why couldn't you... simply take it? Wrestle it from it's failing container and take it into you? Your vessel had the room, you know it did. It was far larger than anything this simple device could contain, enough to dwarf the demand of this place. All you had to do was reach out.

>[Conditioning/Strain Check] Throw it out of the room and dive for cover.
>Get it as far away as you can from the others as you can. Use your body as a shield for the others.
>[Machine Covenant] Do it. Take the energy for yourself.
>[Write-In]

>>5918299
>[Machine Covenant] Do it. Take the energy for yourself.

>>5918299
>[Machine Covenant] Do it. Take the energy for yourself.

>>5918299
>[Machine Covenant] Do it. Take the energy for yourself.

Well, with an update like that how could we not choose this?

>>5918299
>[Machine Covenant] Do it. Take the energy for yourself.
GET HYPE BOYS!

>>5918299

>[Machine Covenant] Do it. Take the energy for yourself.

We have to do it of course

>>5918299
>[Machine Covenant] Do it. Take the energy for yourself.

>>5918299
>>[Machine Covenant] Do it. Take the energy for yourself.
MYSTERY BOX YES

>>5918299
>[Machine Covenant] Do it. Take the energy for yourself.

>>5918299
>[Machine Covenant] Do it. Take the energy for yourself.
Psychoelectric titan pact go!

>[Machine Covenant] Do it. Take the energy for yourself.
Yeah, I probably could have predicted this one. Writing.

Apologies for the delay. Began writing and nearly fell asleep at my keyboard, so I took a nap.

File: the circle.webm (2.09 MB, 1280x532)

2.09 MB WEBM

You clasp the battery between your hands.

Someone behind you shouts for you to throw it away, but instead you hit your knees, pressing the pack to the floor beneath your hands. New instincts blossomed in your mind, ones that seemed almost incompatible with your body. There was a hollow inside you. Storage or... a tank? A hold? Capacitors? Something. It wasn't... inside you, but it was connected to you, passing up and through your body and somewhere else. It ached with emptiness, leaving you feeling cold and lifeless, worse than a ghost.

Motive Force pulsed between your hands. You could feel it, being drawn to it like a parched man was drawn to water. It moved at your touch, not freely whipping around- much like water, it flowed where it wished, and you could no more force it than a man could divert a river with his hands. And like a river, if you stood before the floodgates, it would sweep you away.

But something inside you spoke, gently nudging you to reach out to the now red hot case- and make yourself a path for the current.

Through the case, it suddenly arced to you, igniting the nerves in your hand with a searing pain which quickly dulled to a soft throb. The muscles spasmed and wanted to pull away, but you force your hands to the case and begin to drink of the Motive Force. Blue sparks danced on your robes, illuminating your body with a soft glow, as like a faucet inside you, the chamber began to fill with warm embers.

You heard soft chanting in your ears- the voice of the choir? It filled your head, and you couldn't believe how beautiful it sounded to you. How had you never noticed before? It wasn't perfect, by any means, but like a choir singing hymns to the Emperor, the purity of their faith shone through in the quaver of their voices, and the precision of each note. It was an imitation of pure binary, to be sure, but what was a painting, if not an imitation of nature? What was a statue, if not an imitation of man? No, there was purity in it, and it eased your heart, but you weren't sure it could give you strength.

The explosive force built in the case faster than you could siphon it away, but what little you could drain astounded you with it's energy. It felt like enough to blow a man apart, to light a thousand lumens or to run for days on end- and yet, inside you, only the barest trickle of energy. Leaving you still insatiable, empty inside. Why should this creature get to steal so much and cause so much pain, but leave none of it's theft for the rest of you?

>>5919852
It took you a second to separate the emotion from your own, although you shared it's irritation. It didn't feel like enough to cause so much trouble, and yet in a way it was efficient, like a machine. Doing the most with the least. You had to admire that, even as you gritted your teeth and somehow increased your pull on the energy contained in the case, the sparks running along you growing brighter and fiercer, burning your skin where they danced along your robe and burned through, then singed your hair.

The embers and sparks swelled within you, then became a soft flame. The case cracked between your fingers, and for a moment you feared it was going to explode- then the energy within abruptly snuffed out.

You had been gripping it so hard the case had cracked, nothing more.

The presence lurking behind you vanishes, along with the fire that had been growing within you. You slump forward, bracing against the ground with burned hands and scalded arms, heaving with beads of sweat, the echoes of screeching birds in your ears.

Quality changed: [Machine Covenant] has become [Machine Bond] Your promise holds strong, but something more is changing within you. The mark of the Omnissiah is taking shape in the nimbus that surrounds you in the eyes of the faithful, Fulgurite. Strain Checks based on Logic now award two successes on a result of a 9 or 10 and Logic may substitute for Vigilance when dealing with machines. To act as His agent is to enter the eye of the Omnissiah.

Something twitches near you, and you weakly look to the side. A translucent tentacle was wriggling out of the power pack weakly. Drained and spent. You could feel it's unreal nature emanating from it, feeling wrong and perverting the world just by existing. Such things shouldn't exist, but it was too weak to harm you, now.

>Smash it.
>Cap the power pack and put it in your robes.

Perhaps give the trapped thing to the enginseer so that they may document this sort of assassin? Though I wouldn't be surprised if they just decide to instantly smash it for being techno heresy or something. Either way, it's potential evidence of there being Heretek's that are fucking around.

>>5919854
>Cap the power pack and put it in your robes.

TENTAGRID was caught!

>>5919854
>>Cap the power pack and put it in your robes.

>>5919854
>Cap the power pack and put it in your robes.
This abomination shall no longer be free to parasitize the holy.

>>5919854
>cap

>>5919854
>Cap the power pack and put it in your robes.

>>5919854

>Cap the power pack and put it in your robes.


Hopefully we don’t get vivisected now that we’ve outed ourselves as being a bad ass

>>5919854
Yes, we are walking for you Saint Corvus Lictor.

>Cap the power pack
>Check with our Enginseer

Lets not start a schism yet.

>>5919854
>Cap the power pack and put it in your robes.

>>5919854
>Cap the power pack and put it in your robes.

>>5920331
Supporting this.

>>5919854
Supporting >>5919867. We probably shouldn't keep something that "feels wrong" in the 40k universe.

>Cap the power pack and put it in your robes.
Writing.

You rise to your feet slowly, turning to face the others with the now-discharged pack.

The others still cowered in their small huddle, separate from all but Tobias, who stepped away from them with a faint protest of servos. One before still cringed, glancing at you furtively, although his expression was slowly softening to one of confusion. Tobias looked towards you, and took a step forward.

“Wait, stop-” One of the technomats reached out and gripped the corner of Tobias' robe.

Tobias reached down and gently pushed the hand away, striding into the center of the room. He took Hollie's hand briefly, checking her for injuries.

Another technomat raised his head, seemingly noticing the sudden lack of electrical arcing and people screaming. “Hold on... has it stopped?” A few more heads lifted, including the technomat who had locked eyes with you seconds before.

You blink. How could they have not noticed? You caught the creature before their eyes. Had they just not seen it through the haze of electrical energy? Carefully, you click the dust cover - no more than a piece of plasflex that kept debris off the diodes. It was flimsy, but the creature hopefully wouldn't be able to escape it's confines for now. You slip it into your robe, tucking it into a pouch on your bodyglove for safekeeping.

“So it has." Tobias shot you a look- or, as much of one as he could convey with his metal face. It was more in the quizzical approach of his mechadendrites before they backed off to maintain a respectful distance than anything on his actual face. He reacted as if he could tell the threat was gone, at least. Perhaps his ocular implants let him pay clearer attention than everyone else?

You take a step closer, then look past him. The other technomat who had been injured was slumped against the wall, separated from the others when he had backed away from the cogitator. Boiled blood flecked his robe and surrounded the remains of his skull in a bloody halo. Without eyes or much connective tissue to speak of, it was easy to look inside his skull and see that everything within was ruined. He was dead.

His compatriot had suffered far less. He still drew shallow breaths, although the blood loss and shock from the abrupt detachment of his arm had clearly taken it's toll on him. Peering closer, you could see a significant amount of flesh entwined with what appeared to be an augmetic arm. An augmetic that replaced only the shoulder, perhaps?

“M-magos... my magos...” He groped blindly, eyes searching out for Tobias as he drew close.

Tobias gave him a flat look, and the man quieted down. “Full glad am I to see that you still live, Kobrix.” He droned gently. “Needless to say, I am safe. But perhaps you should save your strength. You will require the attention of the medicae. For now, we..." He seemed somewhat at a loss for words, then glanced at you.

>"I have no idea what I just did."
>"...I think I just had a revelation."
>Say nothing.
>[Write-In]

>>5921282
>"I have no idea what I just did."

>>5921282
>[Write-In]
We already have an appointment with higher Mechanicus authorities to discuss unusual matters, we can simply add this thing to our discussion.
"I shall fetch the medicae, I do not presume to understand what has happened or to know proper procedure, but logic dictates the machine spirits be consulted for their wellbeing and insight. I trust your expertise here, though might I have instruction on where to find the necessary emergency care facilities?"

>>5921309

Supporting this, no need to explain that we don’t know what we are

>>5921282
>>5921309
Yeah, support getting the paramedicus

>>5921282
>"...I think I just had a revelation."

>>5921309
Supporting.

We can discuss the specifics of what happened with Tobais at a later date.

>>5921309
+1

Hm, the gist of it seems to be:
>I'm not sure what happened, but could you tell me where the emergency medicae is?

>>5922376
Respectfully, though after giving it some thought, we would be pretty shaken after going through all that and getting zapped so much. At least we're not hurt too bad.

>>5922376
seems reasonable

“I'm not going to pretend I understand what happened.” You rub your arm, suddenly feeling nervous. “I assume the machine spirits will need to be consulted or...” You flounder. “...or something.” You glance down at the fallen technomat. Kobrix? “We need to call the medicae."

“It'll be faster to drive him.” Hollie began stripping off her apron, laying it out with another one of the technomats to make a stretcher. “But we'll need to stop some of this bleeding first.”

“Is there an emergency medicae kit?” You look around. “Imperial regulation mandates-”

“Yes, yes. They should have aid stations in the halls.” Hollie waves you off. “Let me focus.”

Nodding mildly, you turn through the open door, looking one way, then the other. A breeze moves through your robe as you walk, and you raise your arm to see all of the pockmarks that had burned through your robe from the creature's attentions. Your entire right side looked like you had been perforated by lasguns, exposing scorched leather beneath, and more and more strips of scorched skin as you looked closer towards your palms.

The flesh of your palm had melted and run, fusing it partly to the leather, but you couldn't bring yourself to feel upset about it. Even now you could feel your skin softly writhing, the muscle beneath murmuring as it worked to free itself from the ruined portions. It even steamed slightly.

No, what actually made you irritable as you walked down the corridors, hunting for a Califax-pattern Emergency Medical Locker, Type-B was the fact that your gown was essentially ruined. It was a trivial irritation, but now that the danger had passed, you could only feel irritated at how tattered your clothing was becoming.

You open the locker with rather more force than you meant to, rattling it as your body gently hissed with the release of stimulants deep within. Reaching in, you remove the red satchel, holding it under one arm as you turn back. You would fix it or replace it, you knew. It just... irritated you that you couldn't keep your clothing from being wrecked. First the bandage you had been forced to make out of the mantle, now this. People would think you were some common aide, not a scribe!

People already stared at you on occasion- presumably because of your slovenly attire. You brush your hair with a free hand, feeling the short strands. They needed to be neatened up, as well- another thing that would have to wait. At least it hadn't gotten very long yet. Supposedly your hair would grow slightly faster than a normal human. You weren't sure why.

...you glance at your hand in thought. Perhaps that was why...

>>5922418
Turning the door into the room again, you found them having successfully moved Kobrix onto a stretcher without tearing his arm full of the shoulder it was partially detached from. One of the technomats perks up, holding out her hands expectantly for the medicae kit. Tobias knelt next to her, examining Kobrix with intent and sharing a few words with another technomat.

“Thanks.” She accepts the kit with gratitude and sets it next to her, cracking the purity seal and removing a few tools with ease. “Think I can cite this as relevant experience to the Biologis, enginseer?” She smiles weakly at Tobias.

“Most assuredly.” Tobias replied with a dry tone. “I would argue your experience outweighs my knowledge in this instance. I will advise if you require."

“Just want to staunch it without making anything worse for the cyberneticists...” She muttered, beginning to place bandages and small clamps between the severed muscle on either side of the metal implants. “How about you, A-4?”

You blink. “What?”

“Your hand. Hey-” She elbows Hollie next to her. “Take a quick look for me.”

Hollie nods and turns to you, stretching out for your hand.

Reflexively, you pull it back. You're suddenly painfully aware of the hot writhing of your skin, the faint hissing and the steam emanating from the holes in your bodyglove.

Hollie frowns. “Now's not the time for modesty. The last thing we need is it becoming infected.”

>"No. Please, it's fine."
>"I patched it up in the hall."
>Allow her to examine it.
>[Write-In]

>>5922419
>Allow her to examine it.
There is considerable risk submitting to medical scrutiny, but I feel that our injuries, and the care we might recieve, are surface-level enough for our deeper dissimilarities to go unnoticed.
Also can't discount the group trauma bonding, with debrief and recovery being an important part of that.

>>5922423

Supporting

>>5922419
>Allow her to examine it.
>Act a bit more shocked than you really are. The hand feels weird and you are scared.

>>5922419
>Allow her to examine it.

In all fairness, there is a history of genetic engineering in the Imperium that won't immediately get you lynched by the Ecclesiarchy or on the examination table of some Magos Biologis. In Lebesnati's case, she was directly created for the purpose of an aide for a noble family, but going beyond her whole vat born origins, noble families are known for the use of genetic engineering for themselves/their retinue. You can see this in Gaunt's Ghosts, Necromunda, etc. Furthermore, some Magos Biologis from the Adeptus Mechanicus will outright sell this sort of service, though that sort of gamification is seen in, well, games. Still, while it isn't as simple as just throwing thrones at some guy in a red robe, it is definitely a service that is sold by some members of the Mechanicus. Hell, there's even instances like the Gland Warriors that were guardsmen who were modified to fight Tyranids as a last resort sort of deal by the Mechanicus, though they got a pretty raw deal due to ruinous losses by the end of it due to fighting Tyranids in close combat.

Basically, the real question is just how prevalent/well known is genetic engineering to offer these advantages locally? For Lebesnati, someone who readily styles herself as a scribe, one could make the immediate assumption that she was just a scribe that was attached to some nobles retinue and received genetic editing because of it. Or things could go completely wrong, who knows. Just act like everything is normal and perhaps they won't read too much into it.

>>5922419
>>Allow her to examine it.

>>5922579
True enough, but we are a genetic reject, consigned to destruction.
It would be common knowledge among the Magos of the spire that there are facilities and projects that could and do churn out beings like us, perhaps even visually identical to us, but thankfully it doesn't seem our current party knows or suspects that of us.

>>5922962
Oh for sure, I'm just mostly banking on the idea that they make the first reasonable assumption, rather than instantly jumping to abhorrent abhuman mutant that should be destroyed on sight.

Hm, I wonder how much an inquisitor would like Lebesnati, they do have a track record of grabbing useful examples of people like our mc for their retinue.

>Allow her to examine it.
Writing.

With a sigh, you hold your hand out for her to take.

Hollie takes your hand, wincing at the state of it. Melted skin ran over the leather in places, while in others pits had formed where the skin had bubbled and settled on itself, if not scorching entirely black. She pulled at the leather slightly, gagging as strips of skin sloughed free easily, not knowing that it was partially your own body pushing broken layers of skin free. Where the melted and unscathed flesh met, you did find yourself grimacing in pain as the skin tore.

Your glove pulled free with strips of skin hanging to it, exposing your burned hand weeping with fresh blood where the skin had torn free. It wasn't as bad as you feared, but it still ran red with blood.

Hollie swore under her breath, tossing your glove aside with a grimace and pulling a compression pad free. When she turned back to you, though, she stopped dead.

The fresh wounds that had formed were audibly hissing, the ragged edges of flesh being pulled down into forming scabs before Hollie's eyes. Experimentally, she dabbed at the edges of the wound, wiping away blood to reveal the edges of the scabs more clearly. You had lost more skin than you had when you were wounded before- would your strange ability to regenerate be able to restore that as quickly, or would you require skin grafts?

“What the...” Hollie muttered under her breath.

“So you are tankborn.”

You glance over to Tobias, who was now watching your hand intently.

“...you knew." You said flatly, unable to help the slight flutter of defeatism inside of you.

Tobias bobbed his head noncommittally, then seemingly caught his own gesture and hastily added. “I had a statistical suspicion. Forge world menial immigrants are demographically rare on Malignax, especially scribes with self-professed eidetic memories.” He paused. “Additional: I have met other tankborn in service to the Customs-Houses. Barring certain abnormalities, they all have shared a close physical profile.”

“Why didn't you say something?”

Tobias seemed slightly surprised by the question. “Your behavior was... highly unusual than what I knew of tankborn, but there did not seem to be anything deviant about it. I must confess that I have been curious about why your masters sent you down to Sector Primus in the first place. House infighting?”

You're slightly taken aback by his confession. He thought you were down here in service to the Houses? “I assumed that my true nature would be met with hostility.” You ignore his implied question.

>>5923253
“A wise assumption.” Tobias admits. “To the laity, a creation such as you might be thought of as a perversion of the human form. Anyone learned in the ways of the machine - or the Biologis - would disagree. Your kind is not uncommon among the nobility- or even, the adepts of Mars.” Tobias' gaze moved down to your hand. “That, however... is... unexpected. Your kind hold more secrets than I would have imagined.”

>"This is... not in my design."
>"I'm not sure. My hypno-indoctrination was interrupted."
>[Vigilance] “I'm not the only one keeping secrets, ‘Magos’.”
>[Write-In]

>>5923255
>"I'm not sure. My hypno-indoctrination was interrupted."

I think this is fair as it might reassure them that we don't have underhanded motives and are our own agent. We have some information but not a directive and this is why we need to ascend the hive and make a life for Lebesnati.
Other options are if she descended back to the foundations to do more with the titans, supporting a mechanicum expedition.

>>5923255
>"I'm not sure. My hypno-indoctrination was interrupted."

>>5923294
>>5923312

Supporting - we have a friendly ear here

>>5923255
>>"I'm not sure. My hypno-indoctrination was interrupted."

>>5923255
>[Write-In]
>*Shrug* I'm not privy to the methods of creation behind the tankborn.

I don't know whether or not rouge tankborn are legal, especially tankborn that were initially slated for destruction. I'd rather not risk Lebesnati be considered a piece of faulty equipment, or worse. Then again, I could be worrying over nothing.

>>5923840
>>5923255
support

>"I'm not sure. My hypno-indoctrination was interrupted."
Writing.

“I'm not sure.” You hesitate for a moment before answering. “My hypno-indoctrination was interrupted.”

A long pause followed.

“Your creation was never finalized?” Tobias asked finally.

“I have... gaps in my knowledge.” You reply. “The knowledge feels as if frayed in places. In others, I know it's complete. My specifications sheet, for instance, feels complete.”

“When we first met, you struck me as strange for a tankborn scribe. Perhaps this is why." Tobias' vox emits a mournful subtone. Was he... saddened by that? “And is such regenerative capability within it?”

“I...” You raise your hand, curling the fingers inwards. Some of the scabs crack under the flexing, only to immediately form deeper clots that allow your fingers to keep moving. “No. It's not.”

“Strange.” Tobias shakes his head. “The ways of my wayward brother mystify me. Why sell an incomplete work? To save resources, time? Making your purchase more affordable, or simply to free his gestation units?”

>"I don't have a master. I was never bought."
>"I don't have a master. I was rejected as an imperfect creation."
>[Lie] “My master is a very minor house scribe. He doesn't seem to know what to do with me. It's why I'm down here.”
>Try to change the subject.
>[Write-In]

>>5924244

>"I don't have a master. I was never bought. It is possible that I am… an unsanctioned…creation.”

Obviously this is a high risk approach, but perhaps this guy can legitimize us?

>>5924244
>>"I don't have a master. I was never bought."

>>5924254
>>5924244
Support
obligatory !!DANGER DANGER!! vox klaxons blaring internally
We have proved our merit, but this is the grim darkness of the 41st millennium, who knows what might await our false woman?

>>5924244
>"I don't have a master. I was never bought."

>>5924244
>"I don't have a master. I was never bought."
>{Write-In] "My first steps out of my pod came after falling far below. I crawled out of what looked to be a derelict corpse grinder."

>>5924244
>>5924464
Support
It's the truth and perhaps a mechanicus guy like him recognises the use of salvaging what you can and he's seen that Lebesnati will still honour the cog. There is still value for him here.

>>5924254
Using words like unsanctioned worry me

Rolled 1 (1d2)

Hum. Looks like we have a favored option, but half of the votes include a write-in, so we'll roll on whether to include it or not. 1 for
>[Write-In] "My first steps out of my pod came after falling far below. I crawled out of what looked to be a derelict corpse grinder."
And 2 for not.

“It wouldn't have been to make me more affordable, since I was never bought.” You bow your head before them, folding your hands in front of them in an appropriate display of remorse. “I don't have a master.”

“Left incomplete, never sold?” Hollie scoffed a little, stepping closer, although her expression was anything but judgemental. “You don't make yourself sound like much of a tankborn. They- ...you're supposed to be... highborn toys! Flawless, unfailing scribes, custom-ordered harems of bodyguards, secret agents sanctioned by faith and tech, er-" She spared an apologetic look for Tobias. “That's just what they say, I mean!”

“As unfortunate as it is.” Tobias replied, a mournful tone in his voice. “Perhaps, however, the laity is correct on this one. Their creation is one of malatek, not heresy. Some of our brothers and sisters believe even calling it malatek is a step too far.”

“I can't say much either way.” You reply. “My earliest memories outside of the indoctrination chamber were falling down very, very far. I lost consciousness, but then woke up in what seemed to be a derelict corpse-grinder.” You pause. “What turned out to be a derelict corpse-grinder, rather.”

“A not uncommon disgrace to the Omnissiah in the underhives.” Tobias sighed. “We have failed Him by letting them fall into disrepair or misuse."

“I thought tankborn came from somewhere in the middle hives?” Hollie asked. Something brushed against her leg, and she quickly stepped aside as the other technomats hefted Kobrix on an impromptu stretcher, dragging him towards the door. “Wouldn't that mean she had to fall... what, three sectors and live? Nevermind into a corpse-grinder.”

“Perhaps we know why already.” Tobias looked at your hands significantly, and you hold them up, watching the steam wafting from your wounds slow down to a trickle.

“How sure can we even be about that?" Hollie shrugs. “Even she doesn't know where it came from, it's not in her... specifi... oh, no." Hollie's words trailed off, and she glanced at Tobias, the unspoken fear already present in her voice. You stiffened, clutching your hand close to your body as if to hide the wound.

“No, technomat.” Tobias shook his head. “Not so harmoniously with the human form. She would not have retained such a pristine form were she touched by the Archenemy.”

A part of Hollie looked relieved, and you found yourself unconsciously sagging at his words. “You have to admit, it is... strange.” Hollie offered, waving a hand vaguely. “Why go through all the trouble and then dispose of her just before the finish? It just doesn't make sense.”

“I think you'll find that certain principles in this world override logic.” Tobias said, an exhausted, bitter tone entering his voice. “Such as the principles of business.”

“Ah.” Hollie echoed flatly. “Right.”

>>5925035
“It's... possible that my creator has no incentive to sell to any but the highborn.” You shuffle slightly awkwardly. Speaking of your creator to non-tankborn felt... strange. You couldn't help but feel like you were giving away his secrets. Not that these were particularly important secrets, if they were secrets at all. Nor were you sure that you should give your loyalty to a man who had attempted to dispose of you. “We are elite servants for the highborn, selling lesser stock to the lowborn would dilute our worth. Nor would they be able to afford us."

“Throwing away perfectly good workers for prestige.” Hollie sighed. “This is why I went into the seminary instead of going into service like my pa.”

You wonder when the conversation had gotten so far off-track. Wasn't it about you, and your own flaws? You had just admitted to being rogue, imperfect and- shouldn't they be talking about something else than their dislike of lay merchants?

>Say nothing and let them move on.
>"Am I to be disposed of or not?"
>"You're taking this well."
>"So. Did you find out what you came here for?"
>Say something inflammatory to change the subject.
>[Write-In]

Correct me if I'm wrong, but didn't Lebesnati wake up in a pile of other groaning bodies? Perhaps her entire batch had the regeneration ability?

>>5925036
>"So. Did you find out what you came here for?"

>>5925036
>[Write-In]
>I believe I've trapped the would be assassin inside this power pack.

>>5925036

>"So. Did you find out what you came here for?"

They clearly aren’t ready to immolate us so time to move on in this conversation

>>5925036
>"So. Did you find out what you came here for?"

>>5925262
Supporting this as well.

>>5925036
>"So. Did you find out what you came here for?"

>>5925036
>>"So. Did you find out what you came here for?"

>"So. Did you find out what you came here for?"
Writing.

You glance between them, brow furrowing. Non-tankborn could be confusing, sometimes. They almost seem to have forgotten about the corpse slumped in one corner, whom his companions were even now delicately pulling away, bundling up his limbs and covering the ruins of his face so he could be transported. To a corpse-chute, presumably. That gave you an odd kinship with the man, in a way.

“So.” You clear your throat lightly. “Did you find out what you came here for?” You gesture at the cogitator in the corner.

“I did.” Tobias replied, glancing at it, then to the corpse. “...at a higher price than I wished.” His vox emitted a series of mournful, clipped beats. “However, in striking, they have revealed themselves. Information that perhaps would have warranted a mere demerit and rite of optimization before has now become suspicious."

“Knowing who we could be potentially dealing with, it might be an intentional false lead.” Hollie folded her arms.

“Those with the resources to do so would have no need of such tricks.” Tobias shook his head. “I will teach you of these things, in time.”

“I suppose.” Hollie's brow furrowed. “We'll need time to see Kobrix to a medicae, then once he's patched up and the funeral arrangements have been made for Adaddam, we can-"

“No.” Tobias said. “I have made an inquest to the Temple Pluripraxis. They will take young Kobrix into their care until further notice. We continue to the middle hives.”

Hollie's head snapped up. “I- what? Enginseer, one of our number is dead, both of our rite leaders are down. A-4 here is probably more qualified than anyone who remains to head a choir, and she doesn't know anything- no offense.” She nods to you.

“None taken.” It was true, after all.

“All true statements.” Tobias agreed. “But these are our oaths. The inspection of the middle forges must continue.”

“I fully agree, enginseer.” Hollie shook her head. “But we need to make replacements, replenish our ranks, we can't do the inspections with so few-”

“Technomat.” Tobias reached out to Hollie's shoulder with a hand. “The inspection of the middle forges must continue.”

“I- understand, enginseer.” Hollie clearly didn't, looking at him with equal parts bemusement and shock. Perhaps she was still rattled by losing a fellow member of the cult? “Then I'll... ah.” She looks at you with more consideration, then glances to Tobias. “I should send her with Kobrix then, huh? The Pluripraxis will be able to get her where she needs to go way quicker than us, after all.”

“That would be wise.” Tobias agreed. “We have business to be about.”

>"What do you mean? I'm going with you."
>"That is a fine offer, but I would rather travel with you."
>"That's... very generous of you, enginseer. Thank you."
>Nod.
>[Write-In]

>>5926039
>"What do you mean? I'm going with you."

>>5926039

>"That's... very generous of you, enginseer. Thank you."

We can meet them at the next shrine once we drop off our wounded guy?

>>5926039
>>"That's... very generous of you, enginseer. Thank you."
>>Nod.

>>5926039
>"That's... very generous of you, enginseer. Thank you."
Shame to part ways with such understanding folk. Before we part ways we should ask for advice regarding what to do/who to speak to regarding the founding plate.

>>5926039
>"That's... very generous of you, enginseer. Thank you."
>Nod.
>Ask about the Pluripraxis temple, who are they and what do they do?

I'm interested in both routes, but seems like Lebesnati has satisfied the Enginseer enough to earn ascending the hive this far.

>>5926039
This is interesting.
To recap, here's my analysis of the information we’ve gotten so far:

- “Tobias” appears to be a Magos posing as a Technomat (we misidentify him as a Magos (presumably based on the degree of augmentation), Kobrix calls him one after being injured- something he does not react favourably to, and we got an option to call him out previously.

- There is something odd going down at Sigma-Ros-08, something that Tobias presumably went undercover to investigate. We know the situation did not seem that bad initially (though it was urgent or serious enough for Tobias to veto a detour to a cathedral to offload Corvus Lictor’s nameplate), with only “a mere demerit and rite of optimisation” expected. However, the information found out at Electro-Shrine Secundus-Factor-VII (or the attack of the electro-octopus thing) greatly increased suspicion-to the extent that Tobias is willing to continue the inspection with both his rite-leaders absent.

- As for the electropus, there are 2 theories I am considering. The text and conversation between Tobias and Hollie imply it was placed there deliberately to ambush them, though I also theorise it might just be a intelligent energy parasite that leeched away electric power, lashing out at those that saw evidence of its parasitism. That would also explain why Tobias was investigating- perhaps Sigma-Ros-08 was drawing large amounts of power for little output because of these parasites, thus needing an optimisation rite in the first place?

- It seems like nobody else could see the electropus, as evidenced by their reactions after the Kobrix was injured and subsequent behaviour. This seems to be an ongoing theme-we could see the Titan’s auspex scans and lights whizzing about in the under hive when nobody else noticed them as well (though some of those were autokinetic illusions, as confirmed by Bentus)

Overall, I’ll vote for:
>"That is a fine offer, but I would rather travel with you."
We have no money, no water, and little food left. Hopefully, the ability to get more of these will present themselves along the way. If we hitch a ride to the middle hive immediately, it’ll be extremely hard to get a job-especially with the battered state of our garments currently.

>>5926596
Oh, right, and
>[Write-In] Tell Tobias we captured the assasin and hand over the creature's battery.

>>5926596
I think that's Tobias calling Hollie a Technomat. Tobias has been referred to as an enginseer as far as I recall.

It seems the cogitator & shrine's function feeding electricity to this part of the hive, and is that it is part of a maintenance routine that addresses key functions that Tobias is not willing to delay further.
>>5907869
>Following her, you approach the door and glance into the interior of Electromechanical Shrine Secundus-Factor-VII. The room was smaller than you expected, but free of pews and donation boxes as you'd expect from other shrines. Instead, the room was absolutely filled with well-maintained, combed and organized cables each thicker around than you were. They fed under the floor and into boxes at the far side of the room, which transformed them into hundreds, if not thousands of regular-sized cables that wove around each other and pushed into the walls and ceiling, feeding the next several blocks with energy. Most of the large cables continued onward- to the west, by your reckoning.

It's possible that Tobias had an inkling of the electropus but was unable to do anything about a mortal threat to his person. It's also possible that none of the groupies were able to be calm and react fast enough to assess the situation.

>"That's... very generous of you, enginseer. Thank you."
Writing.

>>5926695
>It's also possible that none of the groupies were able to be calm and react fast enough to assess the situation.
While it took a few updates, in real time the entire incident took... maybe a minute? Eighty seconds?

>>5926039
>>5926232
Changing my vote to
>>5926596
>>5926599
Support

You blink. “That's... very generous of you, enginseer. Thank you.” You pause. “What's the Pluripraxis?”

“The Temple Pluripraxis is a conservatory. Aside from the cathedral in the upper hive spires, it is the greatest domicile of the Machine God in Odrev, and it's seminary is where many adepts of Odrev have sworn their vows. I believe in that place, they will be better equipped to deal with you than I.”

“So I need to go and impress these... ah, magos? Magi?”

“There will be magi.” Tobias explained. “And there will be Logi, Lexmechanics and many menials. They will question you, but do not be afraid. They wish to judge your faith and your relationship to the Omnissiah. Are you a briefly blessed opportunist, or are you something more? These are the questions that plague the minds of the votaries who serve as watchmen and not foot soldiers of the Quest for Knowledge. I have made a noospheric record of my judgement of you."

“What does it say?”

Tobias' head shifted slightly, and you could almost imagine that whatever lips he had left were smiling beneath his mask. “Statement: it is known only to the Omnissiah.”

You raise an eyebrow. “You're not what I expected from a techpriest.”

“And you are not what I expected from a tankborn.”

You smile a little, then turn to leave.

>"...good luck, enginseer."
>"...good luck, magos."
>"Enginseer. Technomat."
>Turn and leave without another word.
>[Write-In]

>>5926973
>[Write-In] Make the sign of the Cog, then leave.
>[Write-In] "If you encounter a peril like this again, an empty lasgun charge pack might be the deciding factor between life and death."

>>5926973
>Write-in: "Before I go, I seem to have drained my standard-pattern lasgun pack, can you advise where I get another?"
>Write-in: "Blessings of the Omnissiah to your efforts Enginseer and Technomat"
>>5926978
>[Write-In] Make the sign of the Cog, then leave.
Support

>>5926978
>>5927081
Supporting both of these.
But also adding that we show Tobias the power pack.

>>5926973
>[Write-In] Make the sign of the Cog, then leave.
>[Write-In] I believe I've trapped the would be assassin inside this power pack.

>>5926695
Apologies, I pulled the wrong information. Tobias identifies himself as an engiseer initially, in Thread 2. Looks like I missed the information on SF-VII's purpose too, so thanks for the correction.
Still, with the electropus: If Tobias knew, I think he would probably ask us to hand over the battery? Regardless, it seems that we can see electrical things un-augmented people cannot see.

Supporting >>5926978 and showing the power pack.

>>5926973
Also support showing them the powerpack before Lebesnati moves on. Good points.

Apologies, I'm gonna have to close the vote later today, I think. Hosting some contractors taking estimates. Feel free to keep discussing.

>>5927081
>>5927096
>>5927532

Supporting all three of these

Rolled 1 (1d2)

>>5927223
>>5926978
cog + lasgun advice

>>5927081
>>5927730
cog + lasgun request + blessings + show pack

>>5927096
cog + lasgun advice + lasgun request + blessings + show pack

>>5927129
cog + I've trapped it

Well that took longer than I wanted to. Okay, looking at this, there's a lot of write-ins going on, but I think if I've got them all untangled, it's a split between...
>[Write-In] Make the sign of the Cog, then leave.
>[Write-In] "If you encounter a peril like this again, an empty lasgun charge pack might be the deciding factor between life and death."
and
>[Write-In] Make the sign of the Cog, then leave.
>Write-in: "Before I go, I seem to have drained my standard-pattern lasgun pack, can you advise where I get another?"
>Write-in: "Blessings of the Omnissiah to your efforts Enginseer and Technomat"
>Show Tobias the power pack.
So I think that's a tie. In which case, we'll roll off, 1 for the first, 2 for the second.

>>5928603
You missed >>5927532 they were adding stuff to their earlier vote here >>5927081

As such it's a pretty general majority for the latter option. If it helps matters, my vote of >>5927129 was basically just to show the power pack, I suppose I got far too wordy.

>>5928621
That post was adding it onto his earlier vote of >>5927081, you can see in the post that I just added his addendum of showing the power pack onto his original vote.

But okay, that rekajiggers things a bit, that'd break the exact 50% ties with no clear rolloffs that I hate. Even so, I think it would be...
>[Write-In] Make the sign of the Cog, then leave.
>Show Tobias the power pack.
Since asking for where to recharge the pack got 3/6 votes, giving them blessings was also 3/6 votes, telling them about the power pack was also 3/6... and none of them were in agreement with each other...

You raise your hands, interlacing your fingers carefully. Your fingers catch on each other, and you fumble the gesture a little. Leaning over your own shoulder, you gently correct the position of your fingers, stacking them one over the other, hooking your thumbs and forming a point with your fingers... and then you hesitate. A slight throb comes from your head, and you shake it off before dropping your hands. “There's one more thing actually, enginseer.” You reach into your robes and retrieve the power pack you had used to trap the creature. Sure enough, it still radiated a slight feeling of wrongness, as if the world was slightly out of order, like paint running out of the lines on a canvas. “The... assassin? I believe I trapped it in here."

Tobias stretches out a hand warily.

“Don't touch the pin.” You warn, holding it out. “I don't know if your augmetics...”

Tobias nods, carefully taking it by the bottom of the case, then pulls it back to himself. He stares at it a long moment. “I don't feel anything.” He concludes. “And yet...”

“It feels... wrong?” You suggest. “I feel it too.”

“I feel it three.” Hollie grimaces and looks away, rubbing her temple. “Something about that thing makes my head hurt...”

“I could feel it when it was attacking us...” Tobias murmurs. “Flashes in the noosphere, sacred code distorting and forcing circuits to run backwards, violating all the laws that the Omnissiah gave us. You did something similar to it, although I know not what. Energy was forced to flow correctly, although I'm not sure where. Possibly it dissipated harmlessly into the environment. There's enough metal.”

“It must be some kind of xenos.” You reply. “A parasite that lives inside the walls, sapping energy? Surely it's not human.”

“It may well be of human origin...” Tobias holds the case up, then carefully unfurls one of his mechadendrites, something tipped in a sort of nozzle. “May I keep this? In it's current state of a prison, it will do no good as a power source for you.”

You weren't sure on what grounds you could actually refuse him. Not unless you wanted to expose yourself to a massive amount of trouble. You nod, and the mechadendrite sprays a thin black film - liquid sealant - that Tobias uses to entirely seal the charging diodes, dust flap and latch pin shut, burying it under many layers of insulation.

“The existence of such a creature is... troubling.” Tobias murmurs, carefully turning the pack around in his hands. “There should be no space in such a device for any creature to live - no matter how small. Interrogative: was this device modified, as your pistol?”

You wince a little, reaching into your robes and holding it out for him. “I don't know. The man who sold it to me claimed it would accept normal power packs.” You think. “It doesn't charge as high as I think it should.”

>>5928802
Hollie was rubbing her eye, but peeked it open as you held the pistol out. “That brings back memories.”

“Expected.” Tobias ignored her, taking the pistol and examining it carefully before handing it back. “Sloppy work, a minor tech-heresy- offensive more in how unneeded it is than true sin.” He paused. “...you may do well to not display such a device at the Temple Pluripraxis. It would... be in poor taste.”

“Nooo...” Hollie lets her head slouch down, staring up through her bangs at Tobias.

“Could I leave it with you?” You ask, gingerly taking it back. “And possibly gain a weapon in return?”

“I am not armed beyond my bionics and a personal defense system.” Tobias paused. “...before you ask, it is integrated into my augmetics. It's not something I can just give away."

You sigh and look down at the pistol. You had a strange feeling about it when you looked at it, but perhaps you were imagining things.

>"...when you say you can't ‘give’ it away, do you mean that it's physically impossible or that you're not supposed to?"
>Put the pistol back in it's holster.
>"Any chance you could modify this... out of tech-heresy?"
>[Write-In]

>[Optional] [Machine Bond] “A creature that distorts reality, but is visible within the noosphere. That sounds like... scrapcode.”

>>5928803

>[Optional] [Machine Bond] “A creature that distorts reality, but is visible within the noosphere. That sounds like... scrapcode.”

Give me more blue rep points Bentus

>>5928803
>"Any chance you could modify this... out of tech-heresy?"
>[Optional] [Machine Bond] “A creature that distorts reality, but is visible within the noosphere. That sounds like... scrapcode.”

>>5928803
>"Any chance you could modify this... out of tech-heresy?"
>[Optional] [Machine Bond] “A creature that distorts reality, but is visible within the noosphere. That sounds like... scrapcode.”

>>5928803
>"Any chance you could modify this... out of tech-heresy?"
>[Optional] [Machine Bond] “A creature that distorts reality, but is visible within the noosphere. That sounds like... scrapcode.”
>[Write-In] Explain what the creature looked like, perhaps he might know more if given a physical description?

I wonder if Lebesnati might start getting a reputation as one of the machine-touched? If I remember correctly, there was an example of a machine-touched where some guy in a mechanicus novel somehow caused servitors to just serve him and ignore shutdown commands from hostile members of the mechanicus, along with being able to suddenly cause broken machinery to work again, etc.

>>5928803
>>5928847
Support and the double whammy. If Tobias is grateful to us, then this tests just how grateful.
Getting our own augmetics would interfere with keeping a low-profile and maybe kept until later with the Pluripraxis temple.

>>5928626
Really happy with the update QM, apologise for messy voting.

>>5928803
>>5929125
support

>>5928803
>Put the pistol back in it's holster.
Tech-heresy it might be, but it saved our bacon and the one of our... friends? We should keep it, even if just for sentimental reasons.

>[Optional] [Machine Bond] “A creature that distorts reality, but is visible within the noosphere. That sounds like... scrapcode.”

>>5928803
>Put the pistol back in it's holster.
>[Optional] [Machine Bond] “A creature that distorts reality, but is visible within the noosphere. That sounds like... scrapcode.”

>>5928803
>>"Any chance you could modify this... out of tech-heresy?"
>>[Optional] [Machine Bond] “A creature that distorts reality, but is visible within the noosphere. That sounds like... scrapcode.”

>>5928803
>>"Any chance you could modify this... out of tech-heresy?"
>>[Optional] [Machine Bond] “A creature that distorts reality, but is visible within the noosphere. That sounds like... scrapcode.”

>"Any chance you could modify this... out of tech-heresy?"
>[Optional] [Machine Bond] “A creature that distorts reality, but is visible within the noosphere. That sounds like... scrapcode.”
Writing.

“Any chance you could modify this... out of tech-heresy?” You ask, gently. “Restore it to a proper laspistol?”

“Does water flow downhill?” A sigh of static issues from Tobias' vox-grille. “It would be better to simply melt it down and reforge it anew, layman.”

“Unless you have a spare floating around, I'm loathe to give up my only weapon.” You hold it back out again.

Tobias takes, mechadendrites unfurling in a wave around him and descending upon the object in his hands. You start slightly as you realize just how many of the armatures he possesses. Many were whip-thin, and probably unsuitable for combat, but you had to admit you found it difficult to see how he found room for a dozen extra limbs under his robes. They pulled and twisted at the subtle rivets and snaps holding the pistol together, and it shortly came apart in his hands, exposing circuitry, broken diodes and tears where the original circuitry had been rearranged and cut to accommodate the pistol's larger power supply.

Hollie openly winces at the state of it's internals, and the hints of Tobias' face you could see behind his augmetic mask immediately twist into something like a sneer as he begins methodically ripping out the modifications from inside the pistol.

Something nagged at you, subconsciously, and you think about the view you'd had of yourself from behind. Well. Not exactly that, since it was impossible, but something that made you reconsider. “A creature that distorts reality, but is visible within the noosphere.” You murmur, slowly folding your arms. It sounded so familiar, and the old hatred that it represented made your mind go back to distant, old times. Then, it clicked. “That sounds like... scrapcode.”

Tobias' mechadendrites twitched towards you slightly, but any surprise he felt didn't make it to his face.

“You're just full of surprises. Where'd you hear about something like that?” Hollie put her hands on her hips and leaned forward. “An old lexmechanic get chatty during a sermon?”

You pause and think. Clearly, it was something you had been taught in the waters, but when you cast your mind back to it... strange. You hadn't been taught this by the Voice, although that would be the only place you could have known it from. It floated in your mind, like an errant thought of observation that passed your mind. “I'm not sure.” You frown. “It just seemed obvious. Is it a secret?”

“Not necessarily. It's a bit like...” Hollie thought for a second, her brow furrowing. “Ah! Y'know how we rarely call the Archenemy by name? It's kind of like that- not a secret, or forbidden, but it can agitate the old geezers in charge, you get me?”

“Ah. My apologies, then."

“Hey, we're both cool." Hollie stuck her hands in her pockets, glancing over as Tobias held up the partially-reassembled laspistol.

>>5930116
It's barrel almost seemed like it had receded on itself with the removal of the extension on it's casing. A small patch of plascrete had been pulled from the grip, where the power pack diodes had been relocated, and with the jury-rigged charging port - the one that had accepted the power pack of a full-sized lasgun - removed, much of it's bulk had disappeared. There was still a hole, but even now Tobias was doing his best to mold the casing thinner, reducing the gap. “It is a Abraham-pattern laspistol.” He announced. “Very old, belonging to the less flattering definition of ‘antique’. It only accepts a grip-mounted power cell, but alas- I have none in my possession when my potentia coil suffices. I could integrate one of my in-line power cells, but such a modification - while sanctioned - cannot be built with removal in mind.”

That would leave you without ammo unless you could locate a new power pack. They were supposed to be fairly common, but it's not like you had much money left at this point. “What, like a different type of power cell?”

“Part of the sacred machinery which allows the standard device to operate would be missing. It should recharge when connected to a power source just fine- but the weapon wouldn't be able to accept a standard unit.”

“So I wouldn't be able to swap it out once the battery was expended...” You nod.

>"Just leave it empty. I'll find a new cell somewhere."
>"Can you install the in-line cell?"