ExtreaminatusGo forth and amplify,the Noise Marines are here!Registered Userregular
Errol
The psyker retrieves his equipment, awkwardly putting on the overcoat over his robes. He makes a disgusted face as he slides into the coat, he has never worn something like this, especially not something made from the flesh of a dead creature. He shifts uncomfortably as he gathers the other objects in the crate.
He checks to make sure the fabric of his robes and collar of the coat will sufficiently hide his sanctioning brand from casual inspection and pockets the hand vox, cognoman and pass token so that he can reach them easily. Once he has memorized where the new belongings are, he checks to make sure his pistol and sword are still within easy reach.
He places his staff against the nearest wall, thinking it may be a give-away that he does not belong. His fingers linger on the object a moment too long, but he leaves it where it is, comfort is not something that should get in the way of his new duty. Errol looks around at his fellows readying themselves and nods that he is ready, if only to himself.
Xanthis retrieves his allotment of equipment, and like Ezekiel tunes his micro-bead to the appropriate frequency. The overcoat is a poor fit over his robes, but obscuring the robes goes a long way to concealing his true vocation. He also acquires the biosample kit. While uncomfortable with his lack of knowledge regarding medicine, familiarity with auspexes and a thirst for knowledge should hopefully make up for it.
Tri-Optimum reminds you that there are only one-hundred-sixty-three shopping days until Christmas. Just 1 extra work cycle twice a week will give you the spending money you need to make this holiday a very special one.
Archibald follows the lead of the Arbitor and takes his equipment. Pulling the overcoat on top of his battered flak jacket is a bit of a struggle, but he gets it on. He puts one of the hand voxes into a pocket along with the token, cognomen, and a chem lamp.
"Well, we should probably put the plow to the rows if we're going to make any headway into this mystery."
Sand nods his head at that, returning to his desk. "Coscarla is several hours away by transit rail. I expect you all to fully cooperate to complete the task given you, of course. Defer to each other's expertise when need be. Report back in a few days, no more."
And then, it seems the briefing is over, as he sits back down and pulls out a few files to return to work.
Looks like everyone's good. I'll get the next part up shortly, unless there's something anyone wants to do in the upper hive area.
"High Interrogator, before we leave is there anything that you found that you consider odd, or important that we may not have inquired about?"
He doesn't seem forthcoming with information -- never would've offered the Dataslate on the combine if I hadn't asked, or the scar on the back, so I figure that it can't hurt.
He looks back towards Ezekiel. "Well. Aside from the whole situation being an oddity, I believe you have the crux of it, Acolyte. If any of you haven't been to the lower sections of a hive before, you're in for quite the experience. But I have full faith in the abilities of all of you."
The journey to Coscarla, as Sand mentioned, takes several hours. What he didn't mention was the necessity to switch cars several times, each progressively more dilapidated and vandalized. The group's pass and cognomen are repeatedly checked by Magistratum enforcers, though they always pass inspection without an issue.
The air grows gradually less clean the further they descend, and the relative open spaces of the government give way to collapsed finery, fallen architectural splendors of the 'good olden days', as another rail passenger comments. They pass further through endless rows of habstacks and miles upon miles of thundering manufacturing plants, the buildings growing rapidly more dilapidated and ill maintained when they're able to be seen at all, the rail at times being seemingly in a black void with only the flickering lights of the car to give any illumination.
The last stretch of the journey finds the group alone in the car, and the rattling carriage breaks into another vast and dilapidated habvault and begins to slow. A vista of vacant and decayed buildings in a worse state than any seen until now are able to be seen out the dirty car window, stretching beyond sight into the dark horizon beyond.
Shuddering to a stop, the rail car doors open into a wide, raised platform devoid of passengers save for a single, huddled figure dressed in rags. The figure quickly rushes onboard, flashing a pass to the door mechanism with unseemly haste and takes up a seat as far from the group as possible. A moment later, a dull, crackling servitor intones:
"Coscarla Southern Railhead. Passengers to Coscarla to disembark. This conveyance will depart in..." The rest is lost in a howl of static.
"It looks like this district has fallen far. Plenty of rat holes to hide in. Best initial course of action is to establish lodgings. Our job will likely take a number of cycles to complete."
Looking out over the district, Xanthis is filled with a sense of loss. So much technology lost to the ravages of destitution. Stepping out onto the platform, he gazes out over the district lost in thought.
Tri-Optimum reminds you that there are only one-hundred-sixty-three shopping days until Christmas. Just 1 extra work cycle twice a week will give you the spending money you need to make this holiday a very special one.
0
ExtreaminatusGo forth and amplify,the Noise Marines are here!Registered Userregular
Errol
Following Xanthis off the car, Errol takes a look out over the district. It was nothing like the ships he grew up on, nor was it like the bastion on Terra that he was sanctioned in. It was the way of things, he told himself, but that still didn't quiet the unease he felt at being here. He looked up, only to see nothing but more metal and instantly regretted his decision to do so as a kind of claustrophobia began to set in. He missed the ships of his youth, floating through the void, with only the sound of the engine to let you know that you were actually moving.
The tech-priest spoke first, "Best initial course of action is to establish lodgings. Our job will likely take a number of cycles to complete."
Errol's heart sank. He did not want to be trapped here for longer than necessary, but he agreed, "Lodging would take precedence, we need a place to regroup if we should get separated at the very least."
Ahhh home. Being back in the lower hive was bittersweet for Tyrus. While it was true the majority of his life had been spent in places like these, it was also true that the majority of his life did not evoke particularly warm and fuzzy memories. Tyrus lingered on the train car while the others stepped off. He walked briskly down the figure in rags and put his hand firmly on the figure's shoulder. Non-threatening enough to the casual observer, but the way Tyrus had clamped down on the shoulder belied the fake smile Tyrus had pasted onto his face.
Tyrus began speaking, but it sounded garbled, too fast and run together for most to understand. Tyrus was confident that the figure would pick up every word. "Hey friend. Why don't you step out onto the platform with my cohorts and I for a second. You can take the next rail. Best hurry though, I don't want to get stuck on this train with you."
Attempt at speaking hiver to ease his mind: 8 success (26)
Awareness to see if Tyrus notices anything unusual about the figure (esp. weapons on him): 99 epic failure (35)
Pre-emptive scrutiny to gauge the figure's response: 48 fail (35) Rolls
Stepping off the transport was an experience for Archibald. Not an entirely good one either. Thankfully he invested in some filtration plugs as soon as he arrived on planet. Otherwise the smell may have knocked him over.
"I agree, lodging would be a fine start. Let's find something and then perhaps take a stroll to acquaint ourselves with our surroundings."
The figure on the car looks startled and agitated as Tyrus approaches, seeming all the more so at that firm grip on its bony, thin shoulder, despite the soothing words in hivetalk.The figure talks back, and it's a man, it turns out, in the same rushed, slurred together speech.
"Who are you? I'm not going...let go of me! I'm getting out of Coscarla, and you should too, if you've any sense. This sector's doomed, and I won't let it take me."
"Allright doomsayer, I hear you. My name is as unimportant as yours. It's enough to say that we're new here. Why don't you step off the railcar and explain to my friends and I what horrible fate is going to befall us by being here. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and say that maybe you misunderstood me when I said that you could always take the next rail." As he speaks, Tyrus squeezes the man's shoulder even tighter and brings his face close. A face that is noticeably now void of the smile that adorned it only moments earlier.
Intimidate: 92...I was shooting for (31). This may be a lost cause.
Assuming he still will not leave the train, is there any one else around who might see/object to Tyrus physically removing him from the train? And if so, what skill is that?
The train car is fully empty now save for Tyrus and the ragman. He's rather weak and malnourished, as Tyrus would discover once he starts to try to haul him around. Weapon skill+20, in this case, for unarmed.
Allright, then lets do that. Tyrus is one of those arbitrators who favors butt-kickery to actual abitration of any kind. Nope, spoke too soon. Why can't I roll this well in d20 systems where the object is to roll high?
Clearly this man was not getting the picture. Tyrus moved to extract the man physically from the train car, but was caught off guard at how wiry the figure was. Just as he was about to get the man in a manageable hold, the familiar voice came back on and informed everyone of the imminent departure of the rail car. "Fine! Take your crazy self out of this sector, old man, and good riddance!" With that Tyrus stomps out to the platform, muttering curses.
Xanthis nods his head. "We have reached consensus. Data indicates a hostel in the vicinity. Likely lodgings can be procured there. Potential for information also exists."
He then begins to stride towards the exit from the platform. There is no indication he even noticed Tyrus' delay in departing the train, and it's quite likely he didn't notice at all. Disciples of Thule are noted among the Mechanicus for their single-minded focus to the point of obliviousness, and it seems Xanthis is no exception.
Tri-Optimum reminds you that there are only one-hundred-sixty-three shopping days until Christmas. Just 1 extra work cycle twice a week will give you the spending money you need to make this holiday a very special one.
OOC: I never stated Ezekiel left the car (sorry, was out of state this weekend, and caught the strep to boot. Is there an issue with me still being inside? if so, no problem.
Staying inside would probably be an issue in that you would now be on your way back to see Sand, who would be very interested to find out why. I think it's safe to assume you disembarked.
Tri-Optimum reminds you that there are only one-hundred-sixty-three shopping days until Christmas. Just 1 extra work cycle twice a week will give you the spending money you need to make this holiday a very special one.
The hostel is easy to find with help of the map, and is reached via a walk through the square. The streets are strewn with rubbish and debris, built broadly for traffic that they no longer need to handle. Glances down side streets and alleys find them choked with old refuse and scorched wreckage from blackout fires, and worse. Still, likely dominating the view in the middle of the square is an incredibly large granite statue of a winged felid, the head missing.
The hostel is in an awful state, even for the surroundings, and simply looks to be a repurposed tenement building, confirmed by the sign hanging over the door reading 'Coscarla Hotel'. Within, the walls are blighted with damp, while plaster peels in places. There's a small chair in what is likely supposed to be the lobby, though the material has a few patches of mold and some unidentifiable stains on it.
A bulbous headed, sickly man lingers about, turning to the group as they enter, his bloodshot eyes widening slightly. He extends a hand, dripping with sweat like most of the rest of him, out to anyone who may take it, introducing himself as Maxus Drayelok.
"Hello, chums!" he greets, licking his lips, his words spilling out quickly. "Plenty of rooms...good time to come! Normally they're all taken, you see. Great prices, though! Half a throne per night per room. Double rooms, if you need to share!"
Tyrus, or anyone who feels their character would have had some sort of underworld dealings in their past, Scrutiny +10. Remember Scrutiny is basic, so even if you don't have it trained you can still roll it, but at half your perception trait before the +10.
Tyrus has seen this sort of shit before back home all too often. Drayelok is definitely showing all the signs of a pretty hard drug addiction, and from the little quirks of his body, the constant sweating, the bloodshot eyes, and other telltale signs, he's likely past the point of being able to recover from it. The withdrawal would likely kill him, save for the grace of the Emperor.
Ezekiel keeps his distance from the obviously ailing man and ignores the question about lodging or food. He would rather work on their task non-stop than sleep in a place like this. His "Imperial" quarters in the overhive had been bad enough.
Instead, he leaves those negotiations to the others who would know the true value of stay in a cesspool like this, and turns his attention to the state of the underhive. "You say that normally all of your rooms are taken. Why is business so bad these days?"
That question from Ezekiel causes Drayelok to stare for a moment, the hostel keeper considering the cleric closely in a sudden new light. "You're from out of the district? Visitors to Coscarla?" he asks thoughtfully, licking his lips. "Have spillover workers from the Union stay here all the time, you see. Coscarla Hostel is a very prestigious establishment!"
Xanthis pokes at the walls. Moisture damage like this on the ground floor doesn't bode well for the state of upper levels. By the grace of the Omnissiah airborne mold is significantly less of a problems since the implants, but such surroundings are never pleasant none the less. A couple of nights are unlikely to be detrimental to the health of his colleagues, so lodgings here will likely suffice.
Tri-Optimum reminds you that there are only one-hundred-sixty-three shopping days until Christmas. Just 1 extra work cycle twice a week will give you the spending money you need to make this holiday a very special one.
Ezekiel nods in agreement to Drayelok. "Yah, we're new to the district working a job. You were saying why business is so bad? We met an old withered Drekhead on the train in spouting something about the sector being Doomed."
"You're hostel will do fine, Drayelok. Show us the rooms." Tyrus then turns to the group and begins speaking quietly once Drayelok begins puttering about. "Don't tell him anything right now. He's a junky, strung out beyond belief, no telling who his supplier is. It could be dangerous if his supplier is not the kind of person we want knowing we are here. We'll talk more once were all alone about what information we want to get out of him."
Drayelok holds his moist hand out to Tyrus, apparently expecting the half a crown for each of them as he response to Ezekiel. "Look, I'll level with you, pal. You made the right choice staying here, instead of sleeping in an alley somewhere. The streets aren't as safe as they used to be. People saying that guys are just disappearing at night, you know?"
He moves his thrust out palm to the others, waiting for the cash from someone.
Up the rickety stairs, the long hallway of the second floor is lined by 6 rooms on each side. "3 crowns, 6 rooms," Drayelok states as he pockets the cash, and passes out keys to everyone for the first three on each side. They're double rooms, in the sense that likely two people could sleep in them, though they're rather cramped and dismally furnished. Two old mattresses lay on the floor side to side.
"Facilities are at the end of the hall," he indicates, nodding down the way to a communal bathroom, before clapping his hands together. "Right, well, I'm down there if you need anything, gents," he offers, before wandering back downstairs.
Ezekiel makes a quick circuit of the room, looking under furniture, in the lamps, etc.
He then turns towards his companions and in the lowest whisper he can manage says "Do we think it's safe to talk here then?"
There's no tell in his voice or features as to whether he's serious, or mocking Tyrus. Feel free to make your own assumptions.
Tyrus always makes his own assumptions. He growls back at Ezekiel, "It's fine by me if you want to go discuss our business with the junky. What could a hive arbitrator know about hive junkies anyway? Real upstanding citizens as far as I know." He then straightens his jacket and addresses the group, "I think we can pump him for information, we just need to be careful about how we do it is all. Normally I would suggest we lure him up here, persuade him to tell us what he knows using this riot baton, then call in some local arbitrators to have him shipped off for drug crimes he probably committed. Looks like the inquisition would frown on that. Any other ideas?"
Archibald takes a quick look at his quarters and then listens quietly to the arbitrator growl at Ezekiel.
"I agree the innkeeper could be a source of information, but perhaps we should take the Interrogator's advice and try oiling some fronds with the money we were given."
Ezekiel raises an eyebrow at the Arbitrator, "Strung out as he is with no income at the moment, our friend Drayelok would likely sell his mother up for heresy for his next fix. I say we choose one of us with a silver tongue to befriend him and help him get that fix. Once he has it in his veins, he'll tell us anything we ask. And IF that person does reveal a bit too much during the questioning, it's not likely he'll remember it. All he knows at the moment is that we're new to the sector; and that was going to come out sooner or later anyway. It's not like we've got first hand knowledge of this place."
"With people coming and going as a hostel is likely to invite the innkeeper has likely heard some rumours. Even if business is bad, he has likely had contact with people with things to say."
Xanthis returns to poking the walls. The moisture damage was remarkable, with no discernible point of origin or pattern of application. How the walls had gotten damp enough to cause this would certainly be an interesting investigation, although it looked unlikely that time would be available to give it full attention. Maybe once the investigation was complete time could be put aside to properly examine the process that had led to this.
Tri-Optimum reminds you that there are only one-hundred-sixty-three shopping days until Christmas. Just 1 extra work cycle twice a week will give you the spending money you need to make this holiday a very special one.
Archibald measures the silence in the room and decides to speak up, "Seeing as I'm just a bumpkin from an agri-world, I think someone with a little more hive experience should prod Draelok. Would anyone know what a typical day's wage is here? I would guess that would be a good starting point as a monetary incentive."
Posts
The psyker retrieves his equipment, awkwardly putting on the overcoat over his robes. He makes a disgusted face as he slides into the coat, he has never worn something like this, especially not something made from the flesh of a dead creature. He shifts uncomfortably as he gathers the other objects in the crate.
He checks to make sure the fabric of his robes and collar of the coat will sufficiently hide his sanctioning brand from casual inspection and pockets the hand vox, cognoman and pass token so that he can reach them easily. Once he has memorized where the new belongings are, he checks to make sure his pistol and sword are still within easy reach.
He places his staff against the nearest wall, thinking it may be a give-away that he does not belong. His fingers linger on the object a moment too long, but he leaves it where it is, comfort is not something that should get in the way of his new duty. Errol looks around at his fellows readying themselves and nods that he is ready, if only to himself.
Xanthis retrieves his allotment of equipment, and like Ezekiel tunes his micro-bead to the appropriate frequency. The overcoat is a poor fit over his robes, but obscuring the robes goes a long way to concealing his true vocation. He also acquires the biosample kit. While uncomfortable with his lack of knowledge regarding medicine, familiarity with auspexes and a thirst for knowledge should hopefully make up for it.
Archibald follows the lead of the Arbitor and takes his equipment. Pulling the overcoat on top of his battered flak jacket is a bit of a struggle, but he gets it on. He puts one of the hand voxes into a pocket along with the token, cognomen, and a chem lamp.
"Well, we should probably put the plow to the rows if we're going to make any headway into this mystery."
Sand nods his head at that, returning to his desk. "Coscarla is several hours away by transit rail. I expect you all to fully cooperate to complete the task given you, of course. Defer to each other's expertise when need be. Report back in a few days, no more."
And then, it seems the briefing is over, as he sits back down and pulls out a few files to return to work.
Looks like everyone's good. I'll get the next part up shortly, unless there's something anyone wants to do in the upper hive area.
"High Interrogator, before we leave is there anything that you found that you consider odd, or important that we may not have inquired about?"
He doesn't seem forthcoming with information -- never would've offered the Dataslate on the combine if I hadn't asked, or the scar on the back, so I figure that it can't hurt.
He looks back towards Ezekiel. "Well. Aside from the whole situation being an oddity, I believe you have the crux of it, Acolyte. If any of you haven't been to the lower sections of a hive before, you're in for quite the experience. But I have full faith in the abilities of all of you."
The air grows gradually less clean the further they descend, and the relative open spaces of the government give way to collapsed finery, fallen architectural splendors of the 'good olden days', as another rail passenger comments. They pass further through endless rows of habstacks and miles upon miles of thundering manufacturing plants, the buildings growing rapidly more dilapidated and ill maintained when they're able to be seen at all, the rail at times being seemingly in a black void with only the flickering lights of the car to give any illumination.
The last stretch of the journey finds the group alone in the car, and the rattling carriage breaks into another vast and dilapidated habvault and begins to slow. A vista of vacant and decayed buildings in a worse state than any seen until now are able to be seen out the dirty car window, stretching beyond sight into the dark horizon beyond.
Shuddering to a stop, the rail car doors open into a wide, raised platform devoid of passengers save for a single, huddled figure dressed in rags. The figure quickly rushes onboard, flashing a pass to the door mechanism with unseemly haste and takes up a seat as far from the group as possible. A moment later, a dull, crackling servitor intones:
"Coscarla Southern Railhead. Passengers to Coscarla to disembark. This conveyance will depart in..." The rest is lost in a howl of static.
Dataslate Coscarla Map
"It looks like this district has fallen far. Plenty of rat holes to hide in. Best initial course of action is to establish lodgings. Our job will likely take a number of cycles to complete."
Looking out over the district, Xanthis is filled with a sense of loss. So much technology lost to the ravages of destitution. Stepping out onto the platform, he gazes out over the district lost in thought.
Following Xanthis off the car, Errol takes a look out over the district. It was nothing like the ships he grew up on, nor was it like the bastion on Terra that he was sanctioned in. It was the way of things, he told himself, but that still didn't quiet the unease he felt at being here. He looked up, only to see nothing but more metal and instantly regretted his decision to do so as a kind of claustrophobia began to set in. He missed the ships of his youth, floating through the void, with only the sound of the engine to let you know that you were actually moving.
The tech-priest spoke first, "Best initial course of action is to establish lodgings. Our job will likely take a number of cycles to complete."
Errol's heart sank. He did not want to be trapped here for longer than necessary, but he agreed, "Lodging would take precedence, we need a place to regroup if we should get separated at the very least."
Ahhh home. Being back in the lower hive was bittersweet for Tyrus. While it was true the majority of his life had been spent in places like these, it was also true that the majority of his life did not evoke particularly warm and fuzzy memories. Tyrus lingered on the train car while the others stepped off. He walked briskly down the figure in rags and put his hand firmly on the figure's shoulder. Non-threatening enough to the casual observer, but the way Tyrus had clamped down on the shoulder belied the fake smile Tyrus had pasted onto his face.
Tyrus began speaking, but it sounded garbled, too fast and run together for most to understand. Tyrus was confident that the figure would pick up every word. "Hey friend. Why don't you step out onto the platform with my cohorts and I for a second. You can take the next rail. Best hurry though, I don't want to get stuck on this train with you."
Attempt at speaking hiver to ease his mind: 8 success (26)
Awareness to see if Tyrus notices anything unusual about the figure (esp. weapons on him): 99 epic failure (35)
Pre-emptive scrutiny to gauge the figure's response: 48 fail (35)
Rolls
_____________________________________________
HoTS: Schmutz#1686
Stepping off the transport was an experience for Archibald. Not an entirely good one either. Thankfully he invested in some filtration plugs as soon as he arrived on planet. Otherwise the smell may have knocked him over.
"I agree, lodging would be a fine start. Let's find something and then perhaps take a stroll to acquaint ourselves with our surroundings."
"Who are you? I'm not going...let go of me! I'm getting out of Coscarla, and you should too, if you've any sense. This sector's doomed, and I won't let it take me."
"Allright doomsayer, I hear you. My name is as unimportant as yours. It's enough to say that we're new here. Why don't you step off the railcar and explain to my friends and I what horrible fate is going to befall us by being here. I'll give you the benefit of the doubt and say that maybe you misunderstood me when I said that you could always take the next rail." As he speaks, Tyrus squeezes the man's shoulder even tighter and brings his face close. A face that is noticeably now void of the smile that adorned it only moments earlier.
Intimidate: 92...I was shooting for (31). This may be a lost cause.
Assuming he still will not leave the train, is there any one else around who might see/object to Tyrus physically removing him from the train? And if so, what skill is that?
_____________________________________________
HoTS: Schmutz#1686
Nope, spoke too soon. Why can't I roll this well in d20 systems where the object is to roll high?
Clearly this man was not getting the picture. Tyrus moved to extract the man physically from the train car, but was caught off guard at how wiry the figure was. Just as he was about to get the man in a manageable hold, the familiar voice came back on and informed everyone of the imminent departure of the rail car. "Fine! Take your crazy self out of this sector, old man, and good riddance!" With that Tyrus stomps out to the platform, muttering curses.
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HoTS: Schmutz#1686
Xanthis nods his head. "We have reached consensus. Data indicates a hostel in the vicinity. Likely lodgings can be procured there. Potential for information also exists."
He then begins to stride towards the exit from the platform. There is no indication he even noticed Tyrus' delay in departing the train, and it's quite likely he didn't notice at all. Disciples of Thule are noted among the Mechanicus for their single-minded focus to the point of obliviousness, and it seems Xanthis is no exception.
_____________________________________________
HoTS: Schmutz#1686
The hostel is in an awful state, even for the surroundings, and simply looks to be a repurposed tenement building, confirmed by the sign hanging over the door reading 'Coscarla Hotel'. Within, the walls are blighted with damp, while plaster peels in places. There's a small chair in what is likely supposed to be the lobby, though the material has a few patches of mold and some unidentifiable stains on it.
A bulbous headed, sickly man lingers about, turning to the group as they enter, his bloodshot eyes widening slightly. He extends a hand, dripping with sweat like most of the rest of him, out to anyone who may take it, introducing himself as Maxus Drayelok.
"Hello, chums!" he greets, licking his lips, his words spilling out quickly. "Plenty of rooms...good time to come! Normally they're all taken, you see. Great prices, though! Half a throne per night per room. Double rooms, if you need to share!"
Tyrus, or anyone who feels their character would have had some sort of underworld dealings in their past, Scrutiny +10. Remember Scrutiny is basic, so even if you don't have it trained you can still roll it, but at half your perception trait before the +10.
Tyrus shakes the mans hand and eyes him closely but says nothing. There is something about him that just doesn't sit right.
Scrutiny (35+10): 11. Tyrus might actually figure something out.
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HoTS: Schmutz#1686
Ezekiel keeps his distance from the obviously ailing man and ignores the question about lodging or food. He would rather work on their task non-stop than sleep in a place like this. His "Imperial" quarters in the overhive had been bad enough.
Instead, he leaves those negotiations to the others who would know the true value of stay in a cesspool like this, and turns his attention to the state of the underhive. "You say that normally all of your rooms are taken. Why is business so bad these days?"
Xanthis pokes at the walls. Moisture damage like this on the ground floor doesn't bode well for the state of upper levels. By the grace of the Omnissiah airborne mold is significantly less of a problems since the implants, but such surroundings are never pleasant none the less. A couple of nights are unlikely to be detrimental to the health of his colleagues, so lodgings here will likely suffice.
Ezekiel nods in agreement to Drayelok. "Yah, we're new to the district working a job. You were saying why business is so bad? We met an old withered Drekhead on the train in spouting something about the sector being Doomed."
"You're hostel will do fine, Drayelok. Show us the rooms." Tyrus then turns to the group and begins speaking quietly once Drayelok begins puttering about. "Don't tell him anything right now. He's a junky, strung out beyond belief, no telling who his supplier is. It could be dangerous if his supplier is not the kind of person we want knowing we are here. We'll talk more once were all alone about what information we want to get out of him."
_____________________________________________
HoTS: Schmutz#1686
He moves his thrust out palm to the others, waiting for the cash from someone.
Ezekiel hands Drayelok the half crown for each, and then waits for him to show them their "rooms".
"Facilities are at the end of the hall," he indicates, nodding down the way to a communal bathroom, before clapping his hands together. "Right, well, I'm down there if you need anything, gents," he offers, before wandering back downstairs.
Ezekiel makes a quick circuit of the room, looking under furniture, in the lamps, etc.
He then turns towards his companions and in the lowest whisper he can manage says "Do we think it's safe to talk here then?"
There's no tell in his voice or features as to whether he's serious, or mocking Tyrus. Feel free to make your own assumptions.
Tyrus always makes his own assumptions. He growls back at Ezekiel, "It's fine by me if you want to go discuss our business with the junky. What could a hive arbitrator know about hive junkies anyway? Real upstanding citizens as far as I know." He then straightens his jacket and addresses the group, "I think we can pump him for information, we just need to be careful about how we do it is all. Normally I would suggest we lure him up here, persuade him to tell us what he knows using this riot baton, then call in some local arbitrators to have him shipped off for drug crimes he probably committed. Looks like the inquisition would frown on that. Any other ideas?"
_____________________________________________
HoTS: Schmutz#1686
Archibald takes a quick look at his quarters and then listens quietly to the arbitrator growl at Ezekiel.
"I agree the innkeeper could be a source of information, but perhaps we should take the Interrogator's advice and try oiling some fronds with the money we were given."
Ezekiel raises an eyebrow at the Arbitrator, "Strung out as he is with no income at the moment, our friend Drayelok would likely sell his mother up for heresy for his next fix. I say we choose one of us with a silver tongue to befriend him and help him get that fix. Once he has it in his veins, he'll tell us anything we ask. And IF that person does reveal a bit too much during the questioning, it's not likely he'll remember it. All he knows at the moment is that we're new to the sector; and that was going to come out sooner or later anyway. It's not like we've got first hand knowledge of this place."
"With people coming and going as a hostel is likely to invite the innkeeper has likely heard some rumours. Even if business is bad, he has likely had contact with people with things to say."
Xanthis returns to poking the walls. The moisture damage was remarkable, with no discernible point of origin or pattern of application. How the walls had gotten damp enough to cause this would certainly be an interesting investigation, although it looked unlikely that time would be available to give it full attention. Maybe once the investigation was complete time could be put aside to properly examine the process that had led to this.
Archibald measures the silence in the room and decides to speak up, "Seeing as I'm just a bumpkin from an agri-world, I think someone with a little more hive experience should prod Draelok. Would anyone know what a typical day's wage is here? I would guess that would be a good starting point as a monetary incentive."