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[IC] - Dark Heresy : Optimus Usurpo
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Further clarification: The tram stop for the lift to the entertainment district comes before the tram stop at the lift closer to the Libri's location.))
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
((Now's the time to make your final decision.))
((I'll remind you that you guys don't exactly have any way of communicating with each other over long distances, so splitting up probably isn't a good idea.))
"Go up, thou bald head." -2 Kings 2:23
"Do we have any set designation, or are we searching aimlessly to find this place?
You manage to squeeze on-board before the lift begins its noisy descent, but you are all crowded together near the doors, with room to do anything little more than turn in place. The buzz of dozens of conversations can be heard over the sound of the aging lift's gears and pulleys, and it's clear that there will be no way to converse without those nearby overhearing.
1d100=63. So that's a failure.
Besides your companions, those standing nearby look to be grimy, tired laborers or plain-looking mid-hivers going down to the red light district.
"Hey preacha, that's a nice blade ya got there," he says, a mocking smile revealing yellowed teeth. "D'nt know was such a rough bizness!"
The figure that the pierced man addressed is taller with dark skin, and like Paba, he looked to have a necklace made from teeth. Unlike, Paba's, however, his seemed to be made completely out of human ones. He met eyes with Paba, then spoke, revealing that his own teeth, all filed to carnivorous points. "Don't start anything, Meko," he says. "Not on the lift."
The sound of the lift changes as it starts to slow down, and the runes above the entrance flash on as the doors whine open. As you all depart from the lift, the two men that confronted you wait for a short while before exiting as well, and you quickly lose sight of them as the crowd flows out.
The red light district is something of a misnomer, as all sorts of bright colors flash as each building's sign vies for your attention, trying to lure you inside for whatever sort of pleasures they offer. No doubt most of what is offered here is illicit, or at least something the upper hive would think of as such.
(Onward us dogs!)
Parthus goes off to find a seedy tavern, hoping to find a bum that knows how the area.
Seedy and cheap, like The Emperor intended. Hopefully with some guys passed-out out front.
You stroll through a couple blocks of the flashier establishments until you find yourself looking at the places that cater more to the local crowd.
One place in particular catches your eye, a smaller building that a of drunkards just staggered out from, singing a filthy song about a girl, her mother, and what they did to each other.
The tavern's name, hand-painted and illuminated by a couple plain bulbs, declares itself to be "The Lustful Scribe".
In the immediate proximity of the lift is a gambling hall, "Lucky Roller"; a couple of plink parlors; a bar titled "The Break Room", from which the sounds of a live band can be heard; and a building with many windows (each with a woman standing inside of it) titled simply "Relaxation Palace".
He snaps a quick gesture further down the walkway. "There. Some parlors of plink, as I trust it. Useful sorts of men as passes down here."
Parthus walks into the The Lustful Scribe and looks for someone chatty.
Behind you, there is an elderly-looking man slumped in an alleyway. His hair is unkempt and the unshaven stubble on his face is almost ready to be considered a beard. The tattered and stained robes on his emancipated frame identify him as a priest of some kind, but he doesn't look like he's spread the word of the God-Emperor in a long time.
"T'ain't no histlry left in this God-Emp'rer forsaken place," he says, taking a drink from a near-empty bottle of rotgut. "Lost most've that back in the quake, an' waz left never getten shown 'round down here..."
"You speak of the quake, good man; would you know of the levels that fell into the underhive, and a library that fell along with it?
I assume I'll need to roll felloship. 80. Well, there's a failure
The monk rouses himself from his recollections, and looks back up at Boaz.
"By th' Throne!" he says. "I know you! Yer a preacher from 'bove... but you... you dun like that Pontifax neither, do ya!" He punctuates the sentence by throwing his empty bottle against the opposite side of the alley, shattering it.