So where was I? Oh yes, my insides had very nearly become outsides and we had to sit in an elevator for a prolonged period of time with the shattered remains of our target. We had tromped around the warrens (underhive) for a time in order to endear ourselves to the gentleman Erasmus Thule, which was our objective all along in working for the inquisition. A tangled web of plot, yes, but it served its purpose and was fun. After this point of the third session ending we didn't meet for a time. It wasn't as though someone in the group got busy all in a big hurry or that everyone suddenly found other other things to do. It was just one of those periods of schedules that didn't neatly work well together, I'm certain you all have had those periods in your tabletop gaming. For two months, roughly, we managed to not meet and not play dark heresy. Eventually the situation, whatever it was, resolved itself and we found ourselves back at the gaming store.

The DM, however, informed us that we wouldn't be playing for the first part of the evening. I was wondering what he was getting at when he let us know, that we would be leveling our characters up. I inquired as to whether or not one might become suddenly closer to the Omnissah as the result of a near death experience, but cast doubt upon someone becoming suddenly more efficient a human being (or post-human individual) by having run around in poop for a time. The DM shot me a wide 'what do you want from me, I just work here' shrug, saying "We're skipping forward a bit, you just played the prologue to what I got planned." Well, that solving that we asked the DM about the particulars of this arrangement.

The DM informed us all that we were met at the top of the elevator by Erasmus and some of his loyal bodyguards. Erasmus looked panicky and informed us that he heard what had happened, the PDF was in high alert and while nobody had 'seen anything' of our faces (or trans human face in my case) it was only a matter of time before a few of the survivors from our attack came forward to give descriptions of our persons. Erasmus was hoping that the warrens finished the remains of the guards off, and was also hoping we would do him a very large favor and just go into hiding until he sent for us.

Naturally, we as a party had seen better days and accordingly spent some time doing our 'other jobs' in order to develop a healthy alibi, or attempt to do so. Mordeci went back to his precinct after the arranged 'special taskforce transfer' that the Inquisition had placed him under. Devi had no superiors proper, and went back to running with a gang, and myself, well, I was unceremoniously placed on the stoop of a Mechanicus holding. They left me there like a bag of unlit dog doo and rang the bell before disappearing and hoping that my superiors might only want to put me back together.

It was at this point the DM informed us of his plan: We were to now be in possession (for 3 game play sessions) a sum total of 2,000XP. Minus the initial xp you get for just being exceptionally yourself, this means that in 3 sessions we averaged over 500xp per. Not terribly bad for a prologue, I figure. The amount of money we received was handsome enough, Erasmus paid us for our work and we gathered more money from an unnamed bank account we all assumed as Inquisitorial in nature, as a way to provide for our concern and situation , all to better serve the Imperium. I remember the amount having been about 2500k per person, which wasn't terribly much concerning the hard work we just did and what we had suffered in order to achieve it.

My superiors were not very pleased I had interrupted their work to arrive wounded, as it was most inefficient of me. I did however, account for myself using wonderful logic (3 passed tech use tests, last one barely at that) and that was all well and good. They only had one question naturally: Where was the Tire Iron? In my attempts to account for myself, apparently I had deified the damn lug wrench so I handed it over and it was examined by priesthood assembled before me. I was informed after a time that it was indeed a tool of the Omnissah and had been sent to aid me in my moment of need. There was then the assumption that me, having wielded a divine tool, was worthy of any aid the Mechanicus could offer. I found myself moving up in the organization.

I leveled Silon up carefully, taking a few of the essentials and a few fun skills. What I remember is thus: 2 Increases in intelligence, 2 increases in toughness (as I had proven my resolve by not dying), taking demolition, taking luminen charge & shock, Luminen blast, an improvement to tech use and a few others. It's difficult to remember everything clearly but having the book propped open here helps.

In the end, Mr. Silon had something like toughness in the high 40s, Intelligence in the low 50s and had gone to equip himself with a variety of tools, finer robes, and had even been implanted with full bionic respiratory system (at my cost) to repair my useless lungs, Utility and Manipulator Mechadendrites. I realize I had spent most of my money on Cybernetics and only lamented that I had not spent all of my money on them. Silon had his first lesson from the Omnissah, who saved him, that the flesh was weak and he got it in his head that it was best to purify himself accordingly.

My party contacted me with the same amount of care with which they had dropped me off. I felt somewhat hurt, being saved one minute and then being treated as nothing more than an emotionless machine the next. Silon, however, saw past this and knew they were treating him with no more than the necessary emotional contact. The party left a note on the door for a Mr Silon and Silon met them at the basement of the gassed house. Mordeci greeted me and showed me his new toy, wondering if I could bless it. He had gone straight for the Bolter advancement and had even managed to find one. He was wearing better armor and looked more like an assaultive specialist than law enforcement but I wasn't going to argue. Devi was wearing one of those armored bodygloves and armed with a mono-edged axe. She had spent the majority of her points on skills that a thief/thug would naturally need in the course of an adventure. We spoke to each other briefly, wondering what the latest was, when Erasmus came in the front door uninvited.

Erasmus was glad to see we were all well and even looked at me twice to ensure I was the same person he was previously acquainted with before laying out his proposition on the table: We join the thule syndicate as 'made men' and help it expand while he works on the next phase of his master plan, of which he let us know absolutely nothing. I wasn't terribly excited at the prospect of being a gang lord until I realized that with cold-logic I would be very, very good at it. Thule pointed to the map and told us that we were going to the mid-hive instead of middle-lower where we were currently. We were going to establish the first 'outpost' and try to build a 'hood' for expansion.

And thus, Mr Silon was on the road to being a criminal mastermind.

We were put into a vehicle, a very nice vehicle, one that Silon interfaced with briefly to ensure it wasn't upset or unhappy at having worked for this group. Maintenance was regular and life was good, so the machine supposed. Silon was contented. We asked the driver if we could stop at a courier service as we had a 'box' there and wanted to check on our stash before moving. The driver allowed this. Mordeci's bluff having worked, he went into the courier service to get a note off to the inquisitor's dead-drop that we were 'in' and under orders to move to the mid-hive.

Now, I know that in a kind world a man wouldn't interrupt his story for anything, save the end of the world or anything of immediate importance such as that. Here, I am going to have to stop briefly as something has come up. I will return, that I promise, with more Silon and company. You see, I'd hate to dangle anything in front of you but I will say that our being in charge of a 'hood' went rather unexpectedly.

Peg leg Dave! how you been man?

We eagerly await both yours, and your character's return, Peg-Leg Dave.

Pardon my extended absence, gentlemen, for there was inclement weather which did decide for me whether or not to be on the internet.

We were given an envelope by the DM, which meant we were given an envelope in character and within said envelope was our instructions to be carried out by Mr. Thule. These instructions were marked 'most confidential' and we were under orders to set up a base of operations in the mid hive. Now, the mid-hive being what it is, does not take to ganger scum like the lower hive does. If we were to operate here, we would require some class or leverage to ensure that we were not bothered. I understood, and Mr Silon did as well why we were put on this task: It was high risk to say the very least, and as such if we were to be terminated there would be relatively little to trace back to Mr. Thule other than these notes which were to be handed over to the driver upon arrival. We were a franchise at this point, and our orders were as follows:

1. To establish a secure base of operations
2. To not arouse the suspicions of the local Magistratum, or even worse, the Adeptus Arbites
3. To begin operational enterprise as a distributorship of certain high-quality narcotic pharmaceuticals.
4. To destroy any threats to the 'house of Thule'

Devi at this point made the observation, and correctly, that we stuck out in our clothing, or rather Mordeci and Devi did having dressed more or less 'normally' for lower hive operations. I, in my finery, looked as out of place as ever but was more or less accepted as the Adeptus Mechanicus can be anywhere.

Our first step after being dropped off was to attempt to put ourselves in more appropriate attire to go about. Devi found a high end shop and soon she was dressed as a Mid-Hive "Accountant or similar", Mordeci wore a long-coat to conceal all of his various impliments of death, and dressed "Like a slick motherfucker" and there was debate sparking over whether or not I would go along with attempting to disguise myself.

There was a persuasive argument that even though A man of the Omnissah would best be represented by no less than his full finery, some form of disguise would be the most 'logical' thing in order to blend in. The question was, how to appear 'normal' when one has servo arms extending from ones shoulders?

Answer: You don't. But Silon made an attempt of it. He failed on the rolls needed (Knowledge: the Imperium) to understand what normal people wore. He dressed in a Zoot-Suit, with fedora, suspenders, short-tie and holes cut in the back of the suit to let his servo arms out. Needless to say it was the subject of much criticism from the rest of the party, but silon was convinced that through his intelligence he should be able to mimic the 'common man' easily enough.

Now, the second order of business was finding a gang of local muscle to enlist in our favor for protection as we could not be everywhere at once. Devi lead us to a worker's district wherein we, thanks to her streetwise nature, found a tavern frequented by juvenile gangs and other riff-raff common enough in the middle hive. All was well until Silon, having failed a substantially difficult series of tests to approximate "tough guy of the middle hive", strolls in wearing his ridiculous attire and asking directly where the toughest person in the room is sitting?

Everyone, naturally thought the man was ridiculous or a prank and just started laughing. An entire room of people laughing at Silon did little for his confidence but nonetheless, he was the chosen of the Omnissah. He had no fear of failure. He strolled neatly up to the biggest, meanest looking 'tough' there was and challenged him to a 'complex bonding ritual of your choosing'. At this point the entire party groaned because they knew Silon was up to no good. It wasn't his fault, truly, because the DM had used the 'chosen man' theme and I was going to swing it like it mattered.

The tough, naturally challenged me to something Silon would seem quite terrible at: An arm wrestling match. Should Silon fail, there would be a considerable pummeling. Silon stipulated that should he win, he would gain the man's time for a proposition. The man agreed, as such was unlikely.

The DM looked at me curiously, as he knew I had strength of no great man, and this tough fellow was no doubt a minimal strength 45. I had no intention of playing fair, either. The only luck is that which you make, So sayeth Silon. Enginseer Silon now. So, the crowd gathers round, the party lingers near the door in case they need to leave, and Silon grips palms with the tough fellow. What happened next took my DM by surprise.

"Say, how does Luminen Shock work again?" I asked.

YESSSSSS IT CONTINUES

You have my attention, Peg-Leg Dave.

The DM was, more or less, surprised at first and then rather mad that the fight sequence he had in mind was unlikely to happen. I re-read my rules and here is what occurred:

The man trash talks Silon, who seems uninterested in any form of banter. At the shout of "Go", Silon lets the man have it, proverbially, with as much electricity as he can muster. There was a problem with this, however. I meant to incapacitate the man, knock him back, so that I could pin him and no one would be the wiser.

Instead, the man has a massive stroke and then falls face first on the table. I declare victory. The tavern is surprised. None really know what to say. Before I can find "The next strongest man", Mordeci walks into the middle of the room with his bolter in the open, whistles, and says "Who runs this neighborhood?" A man points to the face-down man Silon had armwestled. Mordeci then intimidates said finger-pointer into finding out who 'runs' the neighborhood proper. That gentleman was a pimp of some notoriety whom ran a brothel and pushed drugs from the basement lab. Sounded like the perfect new home for us, if only we knew how to remove people from buildings. (Hint - Gas) Silon was gathered by Mordeci and we set off in the direction of said brothel, intent on effecting a change of management.

>Sounded like the perfect new home for us, if only we knew how to remove people from buildings. (Hint - Gas)

Why is your DH group so much cooler than mine? :(

Now, keep in mind this game is not far from wrapping up at this juncture, we did spend a healthy amount of time earlier leveling our people up to their current and respectable place in society.

As we walked, we realized we would need to take over the premises rather quickly, for full shock and awe effect, and then offer any employee not full of bullets, gas or whichever other health-altering element a full time job as our new hooligan. Devi said she would 'run the cat house' as cover, Mordeci stated that he would run the street thugs and that Silon should be in charge of pharmaceutical processing and refinement.

We walked up the stairs of the brothel, a three story building plus basement running half a city block in length with an attached atrium/parking area filled with parton's vehicles. Mordeci didn't enlighten us to the plan, other than "follow me" which we did, dutifully.

Mordeci kicked the front door off the hinges in a rather brilliant display of a strength test gone perfectly well, brandished his bolter and said "Any motherfucker that so much as twitches gets ventilated". Desi quietly moved in behind him, off to stalk the corridors and ensure there was no one of trouble upstairs while Mordeci held the main lobby. I was instructed to 'clear the basement'

>>15548178

Paging Dr. Drawfag, Dr. Drawfag, you are needed in this thread!

Pardon that, I hit enter far too early.

Desi found that the upstairs was controlled by a Madam already, and was NOT intent on assisting us in the slightest in this hostile business takeover. The madam was described as "An ogryn sized woman wearing a fine dress and smoking a cigar" Desi 'threw down' with the woman, having an epic Axe-vs-shock-maul duel that went on for a full dozen rounds before Desi leveraged the madam's head off with a display of Viking efficiency.

Mordeci had a rather boring time, shaking down patrons that left and intimidating everyone out of fighting him. He had a dozen thugs face down in the submission position, and he standing over them looking like one of the guards at Guantanimo Bay.

Silon found that the basement contained two technicians, two gentlemen loading a truck, and the Pimp. Curse my luck for having found the key target and not having a plan, but Silon ambled down wearing his suit and said unto the Pimp "VACATE THESE PREMISES IMMEDIATELY, VIOLENCE IMMINENT!"

>>15548360

The Pimp was unswayed by the tech priest in 'common idiots clothing' coming down to speak to him in such a manner. The warnings of violence were unheeded and the Pimp gave the tech-priest a talking down to worthy of its own thread. Our DM was fluent in Jive and spoke it through the Pimp, threatening to "Comb my head back to the fat meat" and other vulgar suggestions. The pimp slapped Silon for 'disrespect' and Silon returned the gesture with the Manipulator. It was then, 'ON' as far as violent outcomes were concerned.

The pimp drew a pistol, and as an unfortunate side effect of being at point blank range and having higher initiative, shot Silon straight in the face. The problem is that it did NOTHING to silon due to his level of improbable toughness. Silon charged a mighty electrical blast and conveyed his (and by extension, the Omnissahs) displeasure at having been treated so poorly.

There was at this point a critical success, and I rolled a few tens. The DM tested to see if my dice were faulty/loaded and determined that no, fate held good things in store for Silon. I rolled once more and ended my Divine-Wrath with a one. The Pimp vaporized into a "vapor smelling like Afrosheen, baby powder, cognac and Cologne." The rest of the room stopped and stared at Silon, who informed them to "IMMEDIATELY RETURN TO YOUR TOILING" They did not want to see 'or else' and were compliant.

At this point, Silon rejoined the others and we spoke to each other concernng our progress in our mutual objectives. It was determined that, by default of all the previous owners being quite dead, we were in charge. Mordeci lit a cigar and invited the remaining thugs to 'work for the new management', of which the large majority did.

At this point, the game ended.

>>15548360

Godammit I read that in ED-209's voice!

>>15548407
>he Pimp vaporized into a "vapor smelling like Afrosheen, baby powder, cognac and Cologne." The rest of the room stopped and stared at Silon, who informed them to "IMMEDIATELY RETURN TO YOUR TOILING" They did not want to see 'or else' and were compliant.

PFAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAHAHAHAHAHAHHAHAHAHHAHAHAHA

NUOHMyGOD PRSCRKNMPFAHAAAAAAAAAAAHAHAHHAHAH

Oh man oh, oh man *single tear* Oooooh Omnisiah.
Shit Dave, that was funny. Can't wait to keep on readin', whether today or another day.

I want your DM. Can I steal your DM?

I'd like to thank you for sharing your awesome stories with us Dave. They are as well written as they are amusing, +3 internets, good sir.

>>15548842
Well thank you friend, It appears I have internets to spend.