You are Anon, a greasy-haired wageslave of HoloSim Heaven, a Hive-City arcade reeking of stale groxburgers and unfulfilled dreams. Your days are a blur of fixing jammed joysticks with stolen prayers (because, of course, you were always to blame for that, and Tech-Priest were expensive), fights with piss-drunk children and teenagers, and unrequited longing for the heretically buxom vixens printed on the fighting game cabinets. A fluorescent hum is your anthem, the stench of spilled soda your cologne.But tonight, something flickers within your jaded soul. It's been a long time coming. You remember the first time you stumbled upon the Emperor's Tarot, a dusty, overlooked relic hidden behind the autographed bullets, war trinkets and inflatable Astartes of the prize counter. It was back then, fueled by youthful curiosity, that you first experienced its power.Each time you drew a card, the Emperor's Tarot hissed secrets into your mind - glimpses of the present, near future and past, always eerily accurate. At first, the experience was terrifying, a psychic assault leaving you dizzy and overwhelmed. But you knew that such was the might of the Emperor's mind, the only Psyker in the Imperium, and the mightiest in the universe. Obviously. But you endured. Months, then years, bled together as you dabbled in its power, growing accustomed to the strange magic coursing through the cards. But tonight, something simmers beneath your apathy. Tonight, your monotony ends.With practiced ease, you bypass the flimsy security of the prize counter once more, your heart pounding. You now held that dusty, ornately carved deck of psycho-active wafers once more. The Emperor's Tarot.It's your ticket out of here. You shove the deck into your pocket. Tonight, you leave behind the of the arcade and embark on a pilgrimage to the "Glitterglobe", a Pleasure World notorious for its city-sized casinos, obscene opulence and drugs.A place for opportunity, a good life, hot girls, riches, success - everything you've ever wanted.
---Every last cred you had saved up had paid for a seat in this stinking, sardine-packed compartment on a rickety voidship bound for the Glitterglobe. You distracted yourself from the stench of sweat and machine oil by drawing cards from your deck in your pocket."Are there hot girls at the Glitterglobe? Like, really really hot ones?"[YES]"And girls even hotter than that?"[YES]"Do I, Anon, have a chance with any of these super-hot girls?"[UNCERTAIN]Suddenly, the metallic hiss of the compartment door ripped through the tense silence. Two figures, starkly contrasting, burst in.One, a hulking brute, was bald except for a single cybernetic eye that glinted unnervingly. He hefted a lasgun, its smooth finish a stark contrast to his grimy attire, and let out a cruel chuckle. "How about we just blast everyone to save time?"The other, dressed in a sharp uniform, rolled his eyes and replied in a clipped tone, "Only the target, preferably. They should be in one of these compartments.""Navigator still can't sniff them out, eh?" the bald man rumbled, gesturing to the hidden microphone in the uniformed man's ear.There was a pause as the more elegant fellow waited for an answer on their earpiece."Apparently, this supposed individual's 'flame' is too weak. Barely an even an ember." he eventually replied with a dismissive snort. "So she can't pinpoint where they are, if they even exist. That's our little problem."A humorless chuckle escaped the bald man's throat. "Maybe the Warp's just messing with her again."The Warp? Navigator? What was all of that about?A chilling silence descended as the uniformed man straightened and addressed the crowd. His voice, though smooth, held a dangerous edge. "Alright, everyone. We're looking for a specific person. A... witch, if you will. It would be in everyone's best interest to cooperate before we're forced to employ... alternative methods."A wave of unease washed over the compartment. Nervous glances were exchanged, whispers erupted in hushed tones. Your gaze darted across the sea of faces, searching for any telltale sign, any flicker of fear that might betray the presence of the hunted witch. It couldn't be you, could it? You had survived the routine Inquisitorial screenings every time.You fiddle with the deck hidden in your jacket's pocket."Are they after you, the Tarot, for some reason?"[NO]You pause as you think of more questions."Nobody?" the uniformed man insisted through the desperate whispers and murmurs.The larger man loudly cocked their gun. "Y'all suuure?"
You can now ask questions to the Emperor's Tarot and roll a 1d100 for the answers before I open voting for what action to take, this will be a major mechanic of this Quest. One question/roll per anon. There is no penalty for how much you use the Emperor's Tarot in this way. Questions should be about the present or near future/past (up to about a minute forwards or back in time), otherwise I will override the result to "UNCERTAIN".If the question/result is too out there, it might be toned down to fit the current context, but I'll generally be lenient regardless, especially with the "extreme" results. If it's unsalvagable or in some way paradoxical, it'll just be veto'd or I'll just override the roll result with what it should be (eg. if "Is Anon actually a sentient pink bear???" rolls a [YES], I'll just override it to a [NO]). Prior roll results take precedence over later roll results. All vetos/overrides/etc will be announced by me before regular action voting is opened.Other that than, whatever result you roll for your question, is canon.1-3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81- 97: [NO].98-100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Rolled 83 (1d100)>>5943408>"If I accuse X* person, will I get out of this safely?"*Where X person is just some random person around us we think looks like could be a witch.
Rolled 59 (1d100)>>5943408“Will they take me? Am I in danger?”So just how big of a scope, will this quest be or entail?
>>5943457>>5943489Seems like our best bet is to lay low then, accusing someone else will backfire?
>>5943490Fair, guess someone else could ask, if anyone is going to accuse us of being a witch, but I asked too soon with my question already.
Rolled 61 (1d100)>>5943408>"Will these Inquisitorial hooligans find who they're looking for in this compartment?"
>>5943522I'm guessing the caveat is that they could still be suspicious of our tarot deck, should it be discovered. Seems like laying low is the best course of action.
Rolled 4 (1d100)>>5943408> Will this world suffer a daemonic incursion within the next solar revolution?
>>5943608God Emperor, why!?We just wanted to win the lottery and fuck some hotties!
>>5943612>ttom]10 / 3 / 7 / 1 [Update] [Auto]while Humorus, I doubt we would even know what a demon is, or what would make us even suggest we would know to look for one to begin with. Likely one of many questions that will be swept up because it does the thing of overreaching its target by asking big questions that break the rules of the quest. Like, the fact a Tarot card can only answer something in the now, or one minute in the future, not something like a day or even further on a year for instance.
>>5943614This.Just screwing around.Cool concept for a quest though.Will be keeping an eye on how it develops.
Rolled 26 (1d100)>>5943408>"Will they find me if I try to sneak out?"
Rolled 21 (1d100)>>5943408>"If I turn myself in, i won't be harmed?"
Veto:>>5943608You don't know what daemons are because you're just some Hive dude.Summary:>>5943457>"If I accuse X* person, will I get out of this safely?">*Where X person is just some random person around us we think looks like could be a witch.[NO]>>5943489>“Will they take me? Am I in danger?”[UNCERTAIN]>>5943522>"Will these Inquisitorial hooligans find who they're looking for in this compartment?"[WEAK NO]>>5943728>"Will they find me if I try to sneak out?"[WEAK YES]>>5943808>"If I turn myself in, i won't be harmed?"[WEAK YES]The reply flickers into your mind, "Weak Yes," courtesy of the Electric Tower card you just drew. But just as the answer forms, you feel the deck's power sputter and die, a familiar sign it needs a few moments to rest. Anxious glances dart between the passengers, and the thugs maintain their watchful vigil.The air crackles with anticipation. It's time to act. What's your next move?> Turn yourself in, claim to be this "witch" they're looking for> Try to sneak out> Accuse someone else other than the "X" person mentioned earlier.> Just run for it down the hall, to the exit opposite to where the thugs are standing> Yell "GET THEM!" and try to lead a charge with other passengers to subdue the thugs.> Patiently sit back and try to steal some stuff from the people crammed around you as you do.> Pray>Write-in
> Patiently sit back and try to steal some stuff from the people crammed around you as you do.Be patient, don't do anything rash, and don't draw attention to yourself.
>>5944075>Stay still, sit on our hands, don't cause a fuss.
>>5943489I'm pretty flexible about it. Initially, because of the OP and your starting condition, it's going to be about Anon and his personal adventure. You can build up a gang of pals if you want, a harem, an army, etc - or none of the above. It's up to your votes how you chase Anon's stated goals of "a good life, hot girls, riches, success"
>>5944075> PrayHeart of the cardsDo a prayer and draw a card to determine what to do
>>5944075> Pray
>>5944075>PrayThe Warp will see us through
>>5944075> Pray>but grab the tarot deck too
>Pray"Pray," you breathed. Desperation gnawed at your options, the tension thick enough to chew. It was now or never. Please, deck. Give me an answer!You bowed your head, muttering a desperate plea. "Emperor, hear our pleas, we who are unworthy. Master of Mankind, shield us from these xenos! Keeper of the Light, banish the encroaching darkness with your blessed radiance!"A fleeting thought of the Omnissiah flickered across your mind. You'd spent countless hours fixing ancient arcade machines under the guidance of their litanies. But it was the "Emperor's" tarot, not the "Omnissiah's". So, your faith remained with the Emperor.Focusing on the deck's supposed psychic potential, you drew a card, whispering, "What should I do?" Hope flickered in your chest.Nothing. You physically drew a card, the Peasant of Concordia, but as stated previously, the tarot deck's power had already been exhausted for now. So, nothing special happe- "By the Emperor's agony and bloody sweat! By His Golden Throne and sacrifice! By His fall and rebirth as the God-Emperor of Mankind!"Refusal surged through you. You had dreams, aspirations! You craved money, good times, decent food, and fat tits on your face! With renewed fervor, you chanted, pushing against the unyielding tarot, pleading for a spark, anything!Suddenly, the world plunged into darkness. Gone was the familiar, dim rusty cabin, replaced by an abyss punctuated only by a two white points of light to your sides and one seemingly alight within you, burning softly with an unnatural intensity. Then, as abruptly as it began, your vision snapped back.The points of light remained, however. They weren't flames, but the faces of the people crammed beside you, and your own body.* You have gained Witch-Sight. While you lacked typical psychic abilities at rest, under intense focus, you could tap into the most basic power of all psykers: the ability to sense the presence of others with psychic abilities, their auras, and other psychic influences. However, you can do it only at point-blank range. *What the heck was that! Another ability of the Emperor's Tarot?The earpiece in the taller thug's ear crackled, causing him to flinch. "Witch," he snarled to his partner, his voice devoid of warmth. "They've announced themselves somehow. They're here. Everyone's getting dragged to the Navigator's cabin. No killing - paying customers, remember?"The bigger thug raised his voice, booming through the confined space. "Alright, listen up, meatbags! Time for a visit with the Navigator. Front row first, then work your way back, no funny business, and this might go smooth for everyone." ---
The acrid tang of burnt engine oil hung heavy in the air of the rust-stained corridor. You and the other passengers, a motley crew of weary faces, shuffled in uneven lines. A young girl, dressed in ill-fitting noble garb and a cloth tied over one of her eyes, barely a teenager, stood at the front, her brow furrowed in concentration."Did someone escape? Is this really everyone?" she called out, her voice ringing with a surprising authority despite her age.The larger of the two thugs guarding them, the burly oaf, shrugged nonchalantly. "Yep, little miss. This be the whole lot.""I counted," chimed in the other thug, the lanky fellow that adjusted his crooked glasses. "They're all here."The girl, whose name you'd overheard was Anya, let out a frustrated huff and closed her eyes, focusing intently. A moment later, she snapped them open, a frown etching deeper on her youthful face. "They're not here."The thinner thug piped up, "Can't you sense where they might be, at least a little?"Anya shook her head, her brow creasing in further concentration. "I can't tell... It's like they should be somewhere nearby, on this part of the ship, but their psyker signature is... almost not there. It's so hard to tell."The larger thug scoffed, his voice dripping with skepticism. "So, probably just the wind then, ey? Warp wind, or somethin'."The other pushed his glasses up his nose and interjected, "So, what's the next move then, Miss?"Anya let out a frustrated sigh. "Gah. Look, we're just one jump away from the Glitterglobe and we're already late. We'll drop everyone off there, and they become someone else's problem." Turning on her heel, she stomped off down the corridor, her oversized robes billowing dramatically behind her.---
As you waited in that hall for the ship to arrive to its destination, your mind churned, replaying the events in a chaotic loop. Were you a witch? The question hammered at your skull, echoing the absurdity of the entire situation. Back when you were a child, the Inquisition's scanners had swept you clean, their pronouncements echoing in your memory: "Not a witch. Next!" Yet, the vision. That unsettling glimpse into the void, seeing those flames, and this whole thing with the Navigator.Doubt gnawed at you. Was it the power of the Emperor's Tarot?Or was it yours? The deck felt eerie warm again, energized. It was ready to be used."Am I a witch?" you ask it, and pull a card from the deck. A single card, the Emperor himself, landing face up in your palm. Then, a surge of surge of pure epistemological meaning flooded you as inspiration for its correct interpretation filled you. As if voiced from the Emperor's impossibly bright and kaleidoscopic face on the card, a message was etched into your mind.[YES]The world seemed to tilt on its axis, and a thousand questions flooded your mind. What did this mean? How was it even possible?---
The air reeked of stale engine grease and discarded dreams as you and your fellow passengers were unceremoniously dumped with the rest of the voidship's waste. None of you ended up at the grand passenger exit, a place of glittering lights and lively music you could only glimpse past the imposing silhouette of the space station docking bay.Confused yet relieved to finally be on the fabled Glitterglobe, you reached for your deck, the cards buzzing with residual energy. A low murmur rippled through the crowd, a mix of confusion and cautious optimism."Do you know how to get to a hotel from here?" one passenger asked another. "Is there a decent restaurant around?" Others, more tech-savvy, consulted their data-slates, seeking answers in the digital void. Still others simply wandered off, drawn by the distant allure of the station's dazzling lights.Besides the Emperor's Tarot and the clothes on your back, you had a meager 100 credits – enough back home for two weeks of basic meals, but here, an unknown quantity. Hunger somewhat gnawed at your stomach after the long journey. You noticed a group of middle-aged folks huddled together, seemingly lost but also trying to find sustenance."Excuse me," you ventured, your voice hesitant, "do credits work here? How much does a meal typically cost?"A woman glanced up from her data-slate, a restaurant menu displayed on its holographic screen. "Ah, about 30, 40 creds," she replied, offering you a tired smile."Thanks." you reply. Emperor alive, 30 creds? * Like before, we're going to draw cards now (like in >>5943408), and then vote. *1-3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81- 97: [NO].98-100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Rolled 32 (1d100)>>5944659>"Am I a witch?">[YES]Am I a danger to the people around me in my current state?
Rolled 89 (1d100)>>5944659> Restaurant food is always expensive. Especially in a tourist trap like this.> Is there any store nearby where one can purchase some simple staple foods for a reasonable price?
Rolled 50 (1d100)>>5944659“Am I a powerful witch?”
>>5944740Hah!That response couldn't be more perfect.
Rolled 77 (1d100)>>5944659>Are the portions big?
Rolled 76 (1d100)>>5944659>If I play at the next gambling establishment I see, will I win more than I lose?
>>5944813>>5944811Fuck me, well there goes those easy outs.The only glimmer of hope is the weak/conditional no. Maybe the portions are small but the nutrients are incredibly dense or the food is super tasty? Maybe we lose more money than we win but end up meeting a great friend/contact?
Rolled 48 (1d100)>>5944659>Will i have the chance to make some easy money here?
>>5944814There are other options.We could try to offer our (admittedly non-specialist) labor in one of these restaurants in exchange for a discount on meals/a steady income.Alternatively, we could turn to a life of crime. For bigger reward for significantly more risk.Alternatively alternatively, we could root around in the dumpsters behind restaurants for something edible. Not exactly respectable, but arguably the safest and easiest solution.Up to other anons to consult the Tarot about any of these though.One question per anon and all that jazz.
Rolled 11 (1d100)>>5944659Might I get lucky and find someone's half-eaten, abandoned meal?
Rolled 19 (1d100)>>5944659Can I safely get a concealable weapon in the nearby dumpster?
>>5944740>>5944760I think we're an extremely powerful divination psyker but have somehow invested 99% of our power into the Emperor's Tarot.
>>5944903I think we just bumbled our way into possession of a Tzeench artifact and are being manipulated. Though to be fair, I don't know 40K lore, so who knows.
>>5944913Shit, yeah, that's also possible. Still, it's better to be led by the nose by a Tzeentch artifact than be a hive wagie. It's the only asset we have so we'll have to improvise.
Rolled 19 (1d100)>Am I in danger of any enemies of the Emperor in this place?
Amended:>>5944740>“Am I a powerful witch?”[UNCERTAIN] -> [NO]I was unsure of doing this, and I don't like doing it, but I'd rather err on the side of being prudent.Note that I'd likely intervene with things like "Do I have immense, innate, yet to be awoken talent for gunplay?", "Do I have an unnoticed until now, secret genetic mutation that will let me ignore/endure poison?", etc.Summary:>>5944669>Am I a danger to the people around me in my current state?[WEAK YES]>>5944708> Is there any store nearby where one can purchase some simple staple foods for a reasonable price?[NO]>>5944811>Are the portions big?[WEAK NO]>>5944813>If I play at the next gambling establishment I see, will I win more than I lose?[WEAK NO]>>5944821>Will i have the chance to make some easy money here?[UNCERTAIN]>>5944900>Might I get lucky and find someone's half-eaten, abandoned meal?[YES]>>5944902>Can I safely get a concealable weapon in the nearby dumpster?[YES]>>5945093>Am I in danger of any enemies of the Emperor in this place?[YES]A soft chill crept up the cards again, and you knew that meant you had to wait again before asking more.Knowing that it would be trivial, easy to find that promised weapon in the dumpster that the Tarot predicted, you cautiously, quickly get over to the nearest one. In it, nestled amongst the discarded synth-caffeine containers and empty nutrition packs lay a curious duo: a half-eaten grox burger, surprisingly fresh, and a dented can of some kind of pepper spray. "Savior Spice," it proclaimed in bold lettering, accompanied by a skull and crossbones. The warning label beneath was reassuring: "Level 9 - Defeats most anti-spray defenses. Caution: Boils unprotected skin and corrodes plastics and metals. Contains acid."*Savior Spice Level 9 obtained*You pocketed the can and you took a hesitant bite of the burger. The taste, surprisingly, wasn't half bad. But, where to now? The ragtag group from the voidship had already started to scatter, their forms swallowed by the bustle of the streets further ahead. But a handful remained, their voices rising in a cacophony of confusion and discontent. Some, emboldened by the injustice, even dared to whisper about filing a formal complaint - their words met with cynical scoffs and weary chuckles from those who knew better.What do you do?> Go to a casino and get familiar with the games. Study the slot machines with your knowledge in the workings of arcade cabinets.> Go to a karaoke, strip club or similar establishment, somewhere with entertainment where you can find people in a good mood to talk to and make conversation with.> Explore the general area and make a list of establishments that are hiring>Write-in
>>5945097> Explore the general area and make a list of establishments that are hiringWe gotta survive first. Winning big in the first casino we see is not gonna happen, so lets work instead.
>>5945097>Am I a danger to the people around me in my current state?>[WEAK YES] This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail....>Am I in danger of any enemies of the Emperor in this place?>[YES]Theoretical: These are related amd we are being hunted for.Practical: We need more information about this area gained in a nonsuspicious manner.Voting:> Explore the general area and make a list of establishments that are hiring
>>5945097>Explore the general area and make a list of establishments that are hiringBest not to make any waves
>>5945097> Explore the general area and make a list of establishments that are hiring
>>5945097>> Explore the general area and make a list of establishments that are hiring
>Explore the general area and make a list of establishments that are hiringEmerging from the dingy bowels of the voidship service areas, you were assaulted by a kaleidoscope of neon lights and vibrant chaos. Bus-ships and levi-trains zipped overhead like hyperactive flies, their bizarre symphony filling the air.Surrounded by smaller buildings for eateries, hotels and entertainment, a colossal, brightly lit building loomed ahead, housing familiar institutions like the Adeptus Arbites and Enforcers, alongside a towering chapel to the Emperor. Queues snaked out of various offices – Transport, Tourist Information, and others – their purposes evident from the signage. Ah, this had to be some kind of government building. Ignoring the cacophony of independent transport barkers hawking their wares ("Headed for Tyglade! Direct, no stops! Tyglade-Tyglade-Tyglade, get on get on get oooon!", "One seat left to Hassagrande!"), you headed straight for the Tourist Information. The massive queue was a sight to behold – not an hour to waste. A quick glance revealed a map stand brimming with free maps – perfect. Printed on them, a motley crew of advertisements offered glimpses into this place's attractions: whorehouses, restaurants, and casinos vying for your attention. You couldn't help but snort. Back home, government-issued print wouldn't dare showcase "adult entertainment".Armed with the map and a newfound determination, you plunged into the city's streets, ready to explore the establishments and their hiring prospects.
----The central government building loomed in the distance, a stark contrast to the surrounding cityscape. Its clean lines and imposing symmetry spoke of a bygone era, a monument to the bureaucratic might of the Imperium. Its pale stone gleamed in the neon glow, a solitary island of old-world elegance amidst the frenetic chaos of Vassioport.Beyond this bastion of tradition, the city unfolded in a riot of color and clashing styles. Towering chrome and glass structures scraped the sky, their surfaces reflecting the garish neon signs that pulsed with a relentless buzz. Buildings morphed and twisted, their facades adorned with holographic displays that advertised the latest fashions, virtual entertainment experiences, or the questionable pleasures offered within. Scattered amongst the gaudy spectacle stood gleaming clinics, their enticing displays showcasing the latest in cosmetic enhancements and body sculpting, and towering over the neon frenzy were imposing fortresses of glass and steel – the headquarters of the major corporations that called Vassioport home. Amidst this visual cacophony, the people here moved with a similar level of ostentatious energy. Gruff laborers, their faces hardened by toil, trudged past with grease-stained overalls barely containing their robust builds. Tourists, easily identifiable by their wide-eyed wonder and slightly bewildered expressions, clutched their maps, data-slates and flintlock cameras, eager to capture the city's vibrant energy, their simple garb a stark contrast to the flamboyant displays of the ubiquitous elite.These "elite" strutted around, their movements exaggerated and purposeful. Men sported outrageous body tattoos and iridescent clothing, their bodies sculpted into impossible shapes by augmentations and extreme body modification. Women, often sporting impossibly large busts and buttocks juxtaposed with surgically minimized waists, sported outfits that blurred the line between clothing and jewelry. Their lips, many inflated to cartoonish proportions, pouted in practiced boredom, their artificially enlarged eyes scanning the crowd for validation.
----Dodging sleek, chrome hover-cars that zipped by with a hiss of displaced air, you weaved through the throngs of people of the city. Your search for work was old-fashioned, but after hours, your efforts paid off, and you've compiled a shortlist of jobs offering quick incorporation:- Night shift clerk at The Crash Zone (cheap, no-frills accommodation)- Server at Warpspeed Burger (fast food joint)- Refill peon at Powerfuel (prometheium fuel services)- Hypernet installation technician for Cogsmith Connect (telecommunications company)- Test subject for Fi'Palace (large skincare and cosmetics company)* Like before, you may draw cards (>>5943408), and then vote. *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Rolled 84 (1d100)>>5945753Will any of these establishments pay me well if I work for them?
>>5945756Welp, time to become a wage slave then for the rest of our life.
Rolled 86 (1d100)>>5945753>Will I meet a friendly person willing to let me stay at their place at Cogsmith Connect?>>5945756We should probably ask questions about individual companies rather than all of them. That way we know which one the question is 'yes' or 'no for, rather than merely knowing one of the five jobs has/is/does whatever we're asking after. Narrows it down, if you get what I'm saying. It also gives us more 'chances' to get a yes answer.
>>5945776Ah, my bad yeah that seems like a better idea than the one I wound up choosing, guess that means anyone else can offer the same question again but for different companies in that case. As for mine, shame I can’t reword it, but my question for payment goes under the warp speed Burger, rather then all of the establishments all together.
Rolled 99 (1d100)>>5945753Are there any easy opportunities for career advancement at Powerfuel?
Rolled 82 (1d100)>>5945753>Does a crazy hot and nerdy girl that would fall for me exist at the Fi'Palace job thing
>>5945785Hmm, yeah I should've expected that.
Maybe someone ask about if there are opportunities to learn more about either the local area or the enemies of the Emperor at a job of said anon's choosing. Y'know, to figure out if >>5945111 is right.So far it seems like career advancement and good pay, or even hots girls or a nice person who is willing to let us crash at their place is all off the table. The jobs are only good for starvation wages. We'll have to earn our money/babes at the gambling table. Or turn to a life of crime.
Rolled 42 (1d100)>>5945753>Would the position at Crash Zone be low matainence enough that we could sneak in some rest while on the clock?
Rolled 23 (1d100)>>5945753>"Can I easily steal a relatively secure connection on my offtime if I work at Cogsmith?"Good to find out more about this "witch" thing..
Rolled 21 (1d100)>>5945753>Will I find a hot girl who finds me cute at Warpspeed Burger?
Rolled 59 (1d100)>>5945792With what >>5945776 said, we probably want to narrow things down a bit to the answers we got clearest and most positive. Specifically, Cogsmith with >>5946028 and Warpspeed Burger >>5946076.>Will there be opportunities at Cogsmith for me to find out about information on the Enemies of the Emperor who apparently are in this place, without my inquiries being discovered by anyone?
Rolled 57 (1d100)>>5945753>Is the fact that there is a girl who is madly YANDERE for me one of the main reasons why these "Enemies of the Emperor" are dangerous to me?
>>5946400That's not a "No"
>>5945756>Will any of these establishments pay me well if I work for them?[NO]>>5945776>Will I meet a friendly person willing to let me stay at their place at Cogsmith Connect?[NO]>>5945785>Are there any easy opportunities for career advancement at Powerfuel?[EXTREME NO]>>5945786>Does a crazy hot and nerdy girl that would fall for me exist at the Fi'Palace job thing[NO]>>5946016>Would the position at Crash Zone be low matainence enough that we could sneak in some rest while on the clock?[UNCERTAIN]>>5946028>"Can I easily steal a relatively secure connection on my offtime if I work at Cogsmith?"[WEAK YES]>>5946076>Will I find a hot girl who finds me cute at Warpspeed Burger?[WEAK YES]>>5946266>Will there be opportunities at Cogsmith for me to find out about information on the Enemies of the Emperor who apparently are in this place, without my inquiries being discovered by anyone?[UNCERTAIN]>>5946400>Is the fact that there is a girl who is madly YANDERE for me one of the main reasons why these "Enemies of the Emperor" are dangerous to me?[UNCERTAIN]"Fantastic," you muttered, letting out a sarcastic sigh at your card draws. Terrible results. The deck's prickling warmth had now faded like before, you couldn't keep using it for now. So, it was time to make a choice. What do you do?> Apply for work at Cogsmith Connection> Apply for work at The Crash Zone> Apply for work at Warpspeed Burger> Screw work, make way towards the biggest casino you can find. A hot hand at the tables could snag you enough creds to skip these dead-end jobs altogether. (You gave 100 creds)> Wait by sitting and pretending to pray in the chapel dedicated to the Emperor, should probably be safe from whatever "danger" is after you there.>Write-in
>>5946463*You have 100 credsTypo
>>5946463>Wait by sitting and pretending to pray in the chapel dedicated to the Emperor, should probably be safe from whatever "danger" is after you there.But instead of pretending to pray, we actually pray. Emperor guide us through this darkness that shroud our path.
>>5946467+1
>>5946467This, +1. If we're believing in the Tarot, we should actually pray.
>>5946463> Apply for work at Warpspeed Burgercute girl getI have a feeling these "enemies of the Emperor" are going to be an everpresent threat.
>>5946564Supporting this
>Wait by sitting and pretending to pray in the chapel dedicated to the Emperor, should probably be safe from whatever "danger" is after you there.>But instead of pretending to pray, we actually pray. Emperor guide us through this darkness that shroud our path.The central building loomed before you once more, its imposing facade a stark contrast to the neon chaos of the streets. With a deep breath, you pushed open the heavy doors and entered the Emperor's chapel. A cool, incense-laden air washed over you, a welcome respite from the city's relentless heat.On the inner wall, a gleaming gold plaque greeted you. Its message, writ in a tapestry of Low Gothic dialects, left no room for ambiguity: "FOR VISITORS: OTHER VERSIONS OF WORSHIP TO THE EMPEROR ARE NOT ALLOWED. COMPLY." A lengthy scroll unfurled beneath the stark warning, detailing permitted prayers, litanies, and postures – all etched in agonizingly small script. Some rituals were familiar, whispers of your Tarass upbringing, while others were entirely alien. Instructions on kneeling, donating, and proper Mass conduct filled the remaining space.While the rituals differed little from your Hive World customs, a handful of off-world tourists gawked at the plaque, their faces contorted in confusion.You slid onto a long bench, its coolness a comfort against your clammy skin. As you knelt, fists clenched, a silent prayer rose to the God-Emperor. The Emperor's Tarot. Its bleak pronouncements gnawed at your spirit. Was there a way to outmaneuver the dark fate you have been dealt? Had you journeyed all the way to the Glitterglobe for nothing? Dreams, a brimming well within you, seemed destined to be crushed by some unseen hand. Your silently prayed, begging the Emperor for the inspiration to best make him proud. You craved success, achievement burned in your gut, but where to invest your sweat and ambition? If only there were a path, a whisper of guidance, you'd leap right to it.The thought of another day as a wage-slave, toiling away for scraps just to fuel a churning hunger, filled you with a bitter rage. You weren't some mindless drone content with a life of misery! You craved a chance to claw your way up from the bottom! A tear went down your cheek even if you didn't want it to.Wiping at the unwelcome moisture, you glanced up as a passing deacon offered a fleeting, understanding smile."Excuse me, Father?" you ventured, your voice barely a whisper. You rose cautiously from the pew.The deacon turned, his gaze kind. "Yes, son?""I... I'm worried about something," you stammered. "I've heard something about... Navigators. They're witches, right?" Your voice dipped to a conspirational murmur. "I have more information, if it might be of service."The deacon chuckled. "No need for alarm, son. Navigators are sanctioned psykers, blessed by the Emperor himself.""But... isn't the Emperor the only guy allowed to be a 'psyker'?" you blurted. That's what your catechesis had taught you!
The deacon's smile softened. "Seems you've been misinformed. Certain psykers, like Navigators, are vital to the Imperium's survival. Now, tell me, what troubles you about them?"Uncertainty gnawed at you. Was this one of those "false churches" your catechism teacher had warned about? Heretics in disguise, twisting the Emperor's word? You stammered, "Just... that, Father. Thank you."But the deacon's gaze held a quiet insistence. "Are you sure, son?" "...I'm just going through a hard time." you say, trying to change the subject."Of course." he said. "Let me know if you need any help."You hesitated, then decided to take a chance. "Actually, Father," you began, voice hesitant but firm, "I've been struggling to find a job here, a little nudge in the right direction, would be great." You hesitated, then added, hoping to sound sincere, "And I wouldn't mind getting started with tithing, doing my part for the Emperor you know." (Internally, you winced a little at the last part. You still didn't know if to trust these guys.)His smile widened considerably at the mention of tithing. "Ah, the Emperor appreciates a diligent tithe-payer! We do have various... options for those seeking work within the Ecclesiarchy," he explained, his eyes gleaming with a hint of opportunity. "However, you don't strike me as someone destined for menial labor of atonement. Though," he trailed off, stroking his chin thoughtfully, "can you write? How's your hand with calligraphy?"Caught slightly off guard, you stammered, "Uh, yeah, I can write. I'm alright at it."A satisfied look spread across the deacon's face. "Excellent. We have a backlog of documents in need of copying, scriptures and records that require a careful hand. Something to consider," he suggested, leaving the offer hanging in the air."Ah, right. Thank you, Father," you mumbled.He left. Then, with a few more final whispered prayers to the God Emperor, you seal your lips and rise from the pew. A newfound resolve courses through you, as your indoctrination fires the right chemicals in your neurons. Discreetly, your hand dips into your pocket, fingers brushing against the sleek, polished of the Tarot deck. They felt hot, ready to go.You wander out of the church, and hidden by the anonymity of the crowd, you began a practiced shuffle.* You may now draw cards (>>5943408), and then vote. *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Rolled 75 (1d100)>>5946788Can I find good work in service to the church?
>>5946788>"Would trying to become a.. sanctioned psyker... benefit me more than going after a mundane job?"
Rolled 38 (1d100)>>5946799Oops, dropped my dice.
Rolled 53 (1d100)>>5946788Can we trust the church to help us?
Rolled 53 (1d100)>>5946788> If we took this job, would we find any information in the church's backlog of documents, scriptures, and records that would lend itself to our material or spiritual advancement?
Rolled 4 (1d100)>>5946788>Would I enjoy my time and find purpose if I chose to work for the Ecclesiarchy?
Rolled 60 (1d100)>>5946788>If I go now to look for a lottery kiosk with scratch-cards,>will I meet along the way a hot girl that is into me?
>>5947004Well, it's a definite improvement from endless, baby-tantrum, arcade-wagie hell.
Rolled 5 (1d100)>>5946788>Would I be better off just forgetting my troubles for the moment and should instead look for some entertainment?
FINALLY some good luck
Rolled 26 (1d100)Am I in danger of dying if I don't leave this planet in next 5 years?
Rolled 4 (1d100)Can I gain something of worth safely if I begin telling people their fortunes?
>>5947255YES!!!
>>5947256No, thats not good. Since that means an explicit no in that you cant get something of value by being a fortune seer. And this would have been the one time it would have been amusing to roll high for once, sigh.
>>5947258> Can I gain something of worth safely if I begin telling people their fortunes?> 4 - 20: [YES].> No, thats not good. Since that means an explicit no in that you cant get something of value by being a fortune seer.What are you even talking about?
>>5947258It means yes scroll up
So it seems clearing our head first before joining the Ecclesiarchy would be the path forward. While work wouldn't be "good", it would be a meaningful and worthwile experience for us. Hopefully we can find an apprenticeship that let's us leave this planet in 3-5 years before this >>5947195 possible death flag is raised. Maybe a missionary needs an extra clerk to help manage his paperwork or we could make a pilgrimage to a nearby Cardinal World.
>>5947322You can disregard (>>5947195).Per the rules of the Tarot - outlined here (>>5943408) - questions must pertain to events in either the present or the near past/future.Precedent (>>5943608) demonstrates that queries about events a year or more in the future are invalidated - presumably exceeding the predictive range of the Tarot.
Rolled 22 (1d100)>>5946788>As of this moment, are the ministers of this chapel true, faithful and loyal adherents to the Imperial Cult?
Rolled 5 (1d100)>>5946788"Will I be recognised as Emperor-Blessed if my talent is revealed to the Ecclesiarchy?"
>>5947525Finally our luck is turning around!
Rolled 42 (1d100)>>5947525Kinda. Based on other rolls, it seems that for this chapel, there's a nuance.In fact...>Will our evasion of the Deacon's "Are you sure, son?" result in him keeping a close eye upon us, or contacting someone to do so in his stead, because he believes us to be a psyker?
>>5947886Meant for the >>5947525 to point to >>5947532 .Still, it looks like the result is that finding good work in service to the Church conventionally may not work out ( >>5946791 , >>5947000), but there is a way that we would find purpose greater than a wage slave with the Ecclessiarchy as a whole with our psychic abilities (>>5947004 , >>5947525). However, something is distinctly off with this specific chapel (>>5947498 , >>5946834), not outright heretical, but something is off.It could be that it is infiltrated given the earlier "Am I in danger of any enemies of the Emperor in this place?" being a yes, or this could be a front for the Inquisition and they are true servants but not in a form we would expect. It's too early to tell, and we clearly don't know what all they are thinking of (>>5947886)
>>5947894Conspiracy Dart Board Connections:Revealing our ability to the Ecclessiarchy will allow us to aid them in rooting out the "known" Enemies of the Emperor acting on this world, leading to us being regarded as Emperor-Blessed and will give us greater purpose. And this will occur quickly because of the limited time range of the Tarot, but approaching them at this particular second would be a bad idea because of what >>5947158 says.
>>5947886>>5947894Per the first part of >>5945097 we are not a psyker, or at least not a powerful one. I think it's all the tarot deck.The weak yes part could simply be that this chapel has some mild variation to the creed to fit the local circumstances, as the Ecclesiarchy tends to do. Or the chapel could be playing host to a sub-cult of some kind. Them randomly being inquisitors is possible, but a bit extreme.>>5947900Good theory.
Amended/Vetoed:>>5947195>Am I in danger of dying if I don't leave this planet in next 5 years?[WEAK YES] -> No replyWhile I have been very lenient about this, the Tarot can't answer things *this* far into the future. Summary:>>5946791Can I find good work in service to the church?[WEAK NO]>>5946799>"Would trying to become a.. sanctioned psyker... benefit me more than going after a mundane job?"[WEAK YES]>>5946834>Can we trust the church to help us?[UNCERTAIN]>>5947000> If we took this job, would we find any information in the church's backlog of documents, scriptures, and records that would lend itself to our material or spiritual advancement?[UNCERTAIN]>>5947004>Would I enjoy my time and find purpose if I chose to work for the Ecclesiarchy?[YES]>>5947022>If I go now to look for a lottery kiosk with scratch-cards,>will I meet along the way a hot girl that is into me?[UNCERTAIN]>>5947158>Would I be better off just forgetting my troubles for the moment and should instead look for some entertainment?[YES]>>5947255>Can I gain something of worth safely if I begin telling people their fortunes?[YES]>>5947498>As of this moment, are the ministers of this chapel true, faithful and loyal adherents to the Imperial Cult?[WEAK YES]>>5947525>"Will I be recognised as Emperor-Blessed if my talent is revealed to the Ecclesiarchy?"[YES]>>5947886>Will our evasion of the Deacon's "Are you sure, son?" result in him keeping a close eye upon us, or contacting someone to do so in his stead, because he believes us to be a psyker?[UNCERTAIN]A sigh of relief escapes your lips - some good readings. Thank you, God-Emperor. The Tarot seemed able to last for a bit longer than typically this time, but as usual, it has gone cold again.You're currently blended in with the crowds that are right in front of the Chapel. Tourists, their antique flintlock cameras clicking rhythmically, capture the grandeur of the chapel. A squad of policemen, freshly blessed by the deacon's swinging incense, march out with stoic faces.What do you do now? > Try to busk for money by telling people their fortune. Perch discreetly on a nearby step, idly shuffle the cards, and put some of your coins in your jacket on the ground.> Try to busk for money by offering to help tourists with how to properly give worship to the Emperor in the chapel (which is very similar to your homeworld's).> Reveal yourself as someone with some kind of special divination ability to the deacon you met earlier, and that you'd like to put it to their service.> Go look for a nearby casino and play some slot machines and other games with 30 creds.> Go ask the helpful deacon questions (write-in which)> Write-in
>>5948002> Go look for a nearby casino and play some slot machines and other games with 30 creds.Entertainment is better for the moment. Besides, since we've arrived we have been nothing but stressed. Time to have some fun. We can busk later. Then we can come back to the chapel.
>>5948002>Go look for a nearby casino and play some slot machines and other games with 30 creds.Let's trust in the Emperor and by Emperor, I mean the off chance we end in a statistical outlier and win more money than we lose. It would be a shame if we went to a casino planet and didn't even gamble once.
>>5948002> Reveal yourself as someone with some kind of special divination ability to the deacon you met earlier, and that you'd like to put it to their service.Reject fleeting worldly indulgences.Embrace the glory of the God-Emperor.
>>5948002>Go look for a nearby casino and play some slot machines and other games with 30 creds.Trust in the heart of the cards!
>>5948002> Reveal yourself as someone with some kind of special divination ability to the deacon you met earlier, and that you'd like to put it to their service.Glory to the Golden Throne
Writing atm, closing votes before there is a tie
>Go look for a nearby casino and play some slot machines and other games with 30 creds.Each casino entrance screamed for your attention, a cacophony of flashing lights, booming bass, and holographic dancers. You grinned, a welcome jolt of energy surging through you. This was the Glitterglobe, baby, and tonight, you were gonna play.Ignoring the insistent barkers hawking "Guaranteed jackpots!", "We got girls like you've never seen!", your sights were set on the most ostentatious monument to excess you could find: Goldhouse Casino. Two Ogryn bouncers, mountains of muscle crammed into ill-fitting tuxedos, stood guard. You flashed them an excited, cocky grin – and they replied by silently gesturing into the avenue and bowing slightly.Inside, the assault on the senses continued. The air thrummed with a thousand different games – the rhythmic clang of slot machines, the excited shouts around the roulette tables, the hushed whispers accompanying a high-stakes card game in the back.Every surface dripped with gaudy opulence: mosaiced velvet carpets in shades no sane person would wear, chandeliers that looked like they belonged in a palace, and staff decked out in immaculate crimson uniforms. Patrons were drowning their sorrows in exotic drinks, others were indulging in recreational pharmaceuticals with alarming casualness. A grotesquely wealthy man, his neck weighed down by a small fortune in gold chains, strutted across the room like a preening peacock, trailed by a gaggle of beauties whose smiles seemed permanently etched on their faces.You couldn't help but grin – this was the glorious, trashy, wonderful Glitterglobe in all its unadulterated excess. Thirty creds might not buy you a penthouse suite, but it was enough to get a taste of the action. With a spring in your step, you weaved through the throng, ready to try your luck.
---You figured you'd start small. A Space Marine-themed slot machine caught your eye – each winning line triggered a gloriously cheesy 3D animation of bolter-wielding Astartes purging xenos scum. For a while, the explosions and polygon heroism were mildly entertaining, like watching reruns of sanctioned pict-captures. But you, a jaded veteran of a thousand arcade battles back on your homeworld, quickly grew numb. Ten credits lighter and feeling like you'd just watched another propaganda reel, you moved on to greener pastures – or at least tables with actual people*-10 Credits*---*-5 Credits*You'd surprised yourself by picking up the card game of "Big Brigade" so quickly. Maybe all those nights spent glued to glow-screens back home honing your card skills had finally paid off. In front of your croupier also was a drunk tech-priest mumbling prayers to the machine spirit of the table, a flamboyant socialite tossing cards like confetti, and a grumpy Ogryn who kept slamming his cards down with enough force to dent the steel table.The middle-aged woman, reeking of cheap perfume and desperation, slammed her cards down. "Three bullets and the Throne!" she declared, the table erupting in cheers. "Four-eyes here," she gestured at you, "your turn! Play big! You got a fat hand, you got a chance to win huge!""Just a flower," you muttered, placing a card face-up. Groans filled the air."Come on, kiddo! Don't be a stick in the mud!" someone bellowed. "Go for broke! You could be swimmin' in creds!"You flashed a strained smile. You knew the basic strategy now, and blind aggression was a fast track to empty pockets. It might not win you cheers from the peanut gallery, but playing smart would keep you in the game far longer and keep you from burning your 30 cred budget, even if it wasn't as flashy.---
A voice suddenly boomed through the casino, drowning out the cacophony of slot machines and drunken cheers. "ATTENTIOOON PATRONS!" it roared. Spotlights flickered on, illuminating a hovering holographic projection of a presenter with a manic grin and a massive afro."A most GENEROUS surprise promotion, courtesy of the illustrious Tech-Guild of Zlatino!" he continued, his voice dripping with exaggerated enthusiasm. "Card tables, finish your final round! Slot jockeys, prepare yourselves! For a LIMITED TIME ONLY, every machine has been JACKPOTTED!"The crowd erupted in a cacophony of cheers and shouts. Holographic fireworks crackled from projectors onto the roof. "That's right, folks!" his grin stretched even wider. "Tonight, you have the glorious chance to win one of five, top-of-the-line service Servitors from Zlatino! Just take a gander at these magnificent machines!"A spotlight flickered on a platform near the entrance, revealing a line of immaculate, futuristic-looking Servitors, each brandishing a tray overflowing with glowing, multicolored shots."Free drinks for everyone! Served by these exquisite Zlatino Servitors! Remember, folks, when it comes to quality, there's only one name to trust: Zlatino!"The holographic projection winked with a flourish before dissolving in a shower of digital confetti. The crowd, now thoroughly riled up, surged towards the slot machines, a collective roar echoing through the casino. You finished your hand, the "Big Brigade" table unceremoniously transformed into a vending stand overflowing with gaudy Zlatino merchandise. Upgrades for Servitors, fluids, replacement parts, everything.Figured you might as well try your luck again. You weaved through the crowds, dodging flailing limbs and triumphant yells, to one of the few remaining slot machines. Even the games reflected the Platino takeover. Gone were the bolter-wielding Space Marines, replaced by chrome-plated Servitors washing dishes and watering plants. It was a welcome change from the relentless barrage of Imperial iconography. Maybe it was the proximity to the government building, you mused, that the casino was like that. You tossed some of your remaining credits, the Platino logo flashing on the screen, and prepared to tempt the fickle machine spirits for a chance to win a glorified metal waiter.
Soon, your machine lurched with a final spin, and a symphony of lights, sounds, and digital fanfare erupted across the screen. "ZLATINO JACKPOT!" it blazoned in glowing red, the announcement echoing through the casino like a bomb going off."We have a winner!" boomed the disembodied voice of the announcer. Spotlight strobed across the room, bouncing off the feverish faces of gamblers before settling on you. Your jaw hung slack as your face materialized on a dozen holographic screens scattered throughout the casino. You'd won.Suddenly, a huge mass of raven curls shoved through the people until they got to where you were, it was the flamboyant afro guy from the announcement, a wide, oily grin plastered on his face. He shoved a microphone in your direction, his voice amplified to an uncomfortable level."Greetings, you lucky duck! Tell the good people of Vassioport, what's your name, and where are you from?"Flustered by the sudden attention, you stammered, "A-Anon, from... uh... Tarass."The announcer chuckled, his grin widening further. "Anon of Tarass has just won himself a top-of-the-line service Servitor! That's right, folks! The one and only..." he leaned in conspiratorially towards a crimson-clad staff member, his voice dropping to a stage whisper. "Make it the girl model for this guy, the one on the far right!"A spotlight flickered on, revealing a figure shrouded in shadow at the edge of the crowd. As it stepped forward, the gasp that ripped through the casino told you this wasn't your standard service servitor. It was a woman, young and undeniably beautiful, with flowing white hair to her shoulders. Her porcelain skin seemed almost luminous in the harsh casino lights, but the gleam in her dead eyes was decidedly less natural. Bulky cybernetics adorned her head, wires snaking across her nape, piercing in and out of her flesh. Ports or mechanisms of some kind gleamed on her neck and collarbones, all dressed in a stylized maid gown. The woman was flawless...except for one detail. It made you remember the pricey injectable bust-oils at the Zlatino product tables. How expensive would a barrel of that stuff be?"Zlatino, people! Zlatino! Don't settle for less! You can buy RIGHT NOW a servitor just like this, the best that the Forgeworlds have to offer, or heck, we got four Servitors more up for grabs! Don't miss out! Gooooo play!"The crowd, momentarily stunned, surged back towards the slots with renewed fervor. You stared at the woman. Wow. Was she really yours now? Your own servitor?"So, she's mine now?" you asked, your voice barely audible over the din.The afro-sporting announcer, who moments ago had been brimming with showmanship, now seemed oddly subdued. He glanced at the woman, then back at you. "...Aaaand now she is," he replied with his signature fake smile as he pressed some buttons on a data-slate. "She's all set up, buddy. Have fun now!"
With a curt nod, he melted back into the crowd, leaving you speechless and alone with your prize.Then, a voice, smooth and artificial, startled you. "Sir Anon?". Since when could a servitor talk!"Y-yeah?" you stammered"Everything alright? Should I bring you a refresh... ment?" she inquired, tilting her head slightly, her voice a synthesized melody devoid of warmth."Uh, no," you mumbled. That shit was expensive in here.----* Phew, that was long. Let's go, card draws. ** You may now draw cards (>>5943408), and then vote. *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Ah, also, for consistency:* Servitor acquired. *
Rolled 99 (1d100)>>5948261>"Is this servitor conscious?"
>>5948281Holy fuck, Zlatino is selling lobotomized P-Zombies to people
>>5948281Holy fuck
Rolled 87 (1d100)>>5948261>If I play this same slot machine again right now, staying within my budget, will I win another jackpot?Was thinking asking 'will I win more than I lose' or 'will I win some injectable bust oils' or 'win enough to afford Zlatino bust oils', etc. As things stand, I'll leave that to other anons. I just wanna know if we should stay longer to try our luck.Personally, I think we've won big enough as it is. So barring a very heavy incentive (like a Yes to winning lots of monie/a jackpot/the boob oils) to stay for another round of gambling, I think it is time to move on.A servant is a very helpful thing to have in our situation, adjustable boob size or not. We have enough to contemplate with the servitor being an empty husk. Hopefully she isn't an obliviate or something. At least she's cute. We can cuddle.
>>5948317Guess that's a no.>If I were to continue playing will I win exuberantly? I suggest some one roll for "If we continue to win will we be targeted or harmed?"
Rolled 88 (1d100)>>5948335Forgot to roll.
>>5948335I'm sure someone would think we are cheating. Even if we don't continue to play, we ought to look out for opportunistic muggers or people thinking we look like an easy mark. As things stand, with >>5948337 it seems like it is pointless to continue gamble here for now. We can always do fortune telling if we need small amounts of petty cash.
Rolled 73 (1d100)>>5948261>In the near future, will a winner of a regular cash jackpot here buy a round (barrel) of Zlatino titty oil for everyone?
Rolled 20 (1d100)>>5948261>Does our new servitor have secret in-built weapons?
Rolled 52 (1d100)>“Should I go and get a job now?”
Rolled 10 (1d100)>>5948261Considering >>5947900 theory...>Should we return to the Chapel at this time to be set on the path to becoming Emperor-Blessed?
>>5948455>[YES]Well, you heard the Emperor, anons. If we want a good life, it's time to go back to the Chapel.
Rolled 30 (1d100)>>5948261> Would keeping this Servitor be more advantageous than selling it for some extra credits?
Bringing the Conspiracy Board BackSo clearly we needed to come here first because of (>>5947158) in the prior reading and we have gotten a clear sign of Yes that it is time to return (>>5948455 ) to continue the Blessed path. It could merely be time, but I suspect this Servitor Girl has more to do with our path than we currently suspect. After all, we got Yes, but with Caveats when wondering if we should keep her (>>5948524), meaning she is more relevant than money alone but on certain paths. Or perhaps, would lead to more danger if we go down the wrong path. She is clearly soul-blasted (>>5948281) and is armed in a secret way (>>5948372). And we know Enemies of the Emperor are around. And this whole business with a free Servitor of this kind, it is strange. There is more going on and I think I know what!The oldest Enemies of the Emperor are Chaos and the Men of Iron. Zlatino is clearly experimenting with AI or with Daemonic Possession, and they are spreading servitors throughout the population to enable a rapid takeover with a mass ritual or takeover! In the case of the ritual, her soul was likely ripped out to fuel the ritual's operation, and if it is a Robot Apocalypse then it was removed to make the body more easy to take over! And if its the former, perhaps she was important before being turned into a Servitor (which would make her soul even stronger for the ritual) and by taking her to the Chapel, they will learn of this and work with us to destroy this plan.Perhaps it'll even be revealed she's the last Scion of a Noble house who went missing, and >>5947004 doesn't mean becoming a Priest, but a high level Noble that supports their work upon this world. Because we showed concern for her state and brought her to their attention, so we can be trusted taking care of her and ensuring the Noble House continues on properly.
>>5948587Uh-huh...You lost me at the second paragraph.Seems like a lot of spurious conclusions to draw.
>>5948587Incredibly based conspiracy enjoyer.
>>5948596We're trying to discern the future in 40k, anon. And as the QM said, most anything can end up canon from the readings. As such, unless we get a [NO] from the readings, nothing is fully off the table and even the table must be held under suspicion.
>>5948587
Rolled 94 (1d100)>>5948261>Is she in good condition?
Looks like we will have to take her to a tech-priests
Rolled 11 (1d100)>>5948261>Should I headpat her right now?
>>5948888The Quads have spoken.>inb4 we touch her scalp and come away with something horrid/disgusting on our hand.
Rolled 9 (1d100)>>5948261>Are there barrels of Zlatino fluids in the back of this casino that if I steal them in the near future, I wouldn't be detected?
Summary:>>5948281>"Is this servitor conscious?"[EXTREME NO]>>5948317>If I play this same slot machine again right now, staying within my budget, will I win another jackpot?[NO]>>5948335>If I were to continue playing will I win exuberantly?[NO]>>5948358>In the near future, will a winner of a regular cash jackpot here buy a round (barrel) of Zlatino titty oil for everyone?[NO]>>5948372>Does our new servitor have secret in-built weapons?[YES]>>5948406>“Should I go and get a job now?”[UNCERTAIN]>>5948455>Should we return to the Chapel at this time to be set on the path to becoming Emperor-Blessed?[YES]>>5948524> Would keeping this Servitor be more advantageous than selling it for some extra credits?[WEAK YES]>>5948856>Is she in good condition?[NO]>>5948888>Should I headpat her right now?[YES]>>5949011>Are there barrels of Zlatino fluids in the back of this casino that if I steal them in the near future, I wouldn't be detected?[YES]The deck went cold again So, a headpat? Right now? Sure. A shrug and a tentative pat landed on the servitor's white hair. The response was instantaneous – a violent shudder and a head twitch so pronounced it looked like it might dislodge itself. Then came the horrifying screech."Physical Affection Err-r-r-r, Binary Protocol 323821-A, Memory Leeeeeeeeeeee-" The high-pitched whine morphed into a single, ear-splitting "eeee" that drew stares from every gambler in earshot.Heads swivel in your direction, suspicion and unease flickering across the faces of other patrons. Before the commotion can escalate, a Tech-Priest, crimson robes billowing, bursts through the crowd. He wastes no time, yanking a tangle of wires - his "mecha-dentrites" - from his back and jamming them into a port on the servitor's neck.The screech cuts off abruptly, replaced by an unsettling silence. The woman stands frozen, her eyes vacant."Terribly sorry for the inconvenience, sir," the Tech-Priest chuckles, a grating, clearly robotic voice. "Zlatino guarantees the quality of its products." His chrome face-plates shift and slide to a stiff, sorry smile. "Here, please accept this gift card as a token of our apology."* Zlatino gift card for 50 Credits acquired *
A smaller, meeker Tech-Priest beside him clears his throat. "Sir, it's just a gift servitor, complimentary. There's no need for-"The larger Tech-Priest cuts him off with a sharp glare, his smile morphing into a grimace. He lets out a guttural hiss in a language that sounds like a machine attempting human speech. Then, all smiles again, he turns back to you."Shall we continue, Mr. Anon?""Sure"They lead you to a secluded service area behind the casino floor. Tech-Priests swarm the servitor, their movements practiced and efficient. Panels on her body hiss open, revealing intricate mechanisms beneath. Mecha-dentrites snake out, probing and connecting.The first, larger Tech-Priest launches into a sales pitch, his voice dripping with apologetic enthusiasm. "Mr. Anon, this servitor possesses everything you could desire – an endo-exoskeleton for enhanced strength, internal security protocols..." He gestures towards a compartment revealing a hidden blade and lasgun. "And she boasts such a remarkable vocabulary, fluent in up to 7.4th level Gothic! Truly impressive, wouldn't you agree?"Just then, one of the Tech-Priests working on the servitor speaks up, his voice raspy. "The problem... seems someone's been trying to be cheap with her. Packed her full of old, used 'mannequin' parts from the store. We've replaced them with new components now. Sorry for the malfunction, sir."The first Tech-Priest gives a grin. "Remember, Mr. Anon, Zlatino stands for quality. Guaranteed. A minor hiccup, that's all."The servitor whirred back to life, blinked a few times, then tilted her head again. "Mr. Anon? Is everything alright? I am at your service.""...Thanks, really. I appreciate it." you tell them.---50 credits is hardly enough for you to buy anything physical for the Servitor (modifications like a change in hair color starting at 200 creds at the least, and arm reinforcements at 500 creds), but you can buy software, like the ability to brew tea, sing a specific selection of songs, or have a custom vocal accent or tone. You also see that whole barrels of Zlatino fluids (lubricants, body modification oils, etc) cost around 25,000 credits each, with the fluids typically being sold in smaller plastic bottles, the size of a typical wine bottle, for about 300 credits each.---You're back at the casino floor, with your servitor silently standing behind you. The deck is cold, so you've got to wait a while before being able to draw cards again. It's soon midnight at at the Glitterglobe (28h day cycle). What do you do?> Go to the Chapel and reveal yourself as someone with some kind of special power.> Go to the back of the casino and steal barrels of Zlatino fluids.> Stay around and try to get to know the Servitor better. Give her a name (write-in)> Go to The Crash Zone to get a place to sleep (20 creds/night).> Write-in
>>5949127> Go to the Chapel and reveal yourself as someone with some kind of special power.> Stay around and try to get to know the Servitor better. Give her a name (write-name)> Name: “Aleta”
>headpat causes the cute servitor to melt into a puddle of spaghetti code goopFinally, a GOOD quest.>>5949127>Go to The Crash Zone to get a place to sleep (20 creds/night).>pat servitor again as we leave>"it's not your fault you malfunctioned, please don't be sad about it"Nap time, tomorrow we can return to the Ecclesiarchy and see what our destiny has in store for us. Maybe name her Marianne. I like that name.
>>5949127> Go to the back of the casino and steal barrels of Zlatino fluids.>Supporting >>5949133 for the nameIt'd be a shame not to make use of either of our two opportunities. The difference is the chapel thing will probably last.
> Go to the back of the casino and steal barrels of Zlatino fluids.> Go to The Crash Zone to get a place to sleep (20 creds/night).Tomorrow we go to church and, > Go to the Chapel and reveal yourself as someone with some kind of special power.
>>5949127Hmm...>>5949148>>5949163I agree with all of these and support Aleta for a name.
> Go to the Chapel and reveal yourself as someone with some kind of special power.>>5949138>>5949148Feels too risky. The question asking if we should return to the chapel specifically said "at this time" so the opportunity may be lost by tommorrow. Between our opportunities, that one feels the biggest.
Honestly, I wanna go see the back as much as to get a peek behind the curtain of what is going on with Zlatino as I do to acquire titty fluid or whatever it is. All the more to report if it turns out the chapel is an inquisitor facility.
>>5949178If we can go for two things, I'd support this. Checking that out could reasonably be in the "at this time" range. But I'm certain that sleeping through the night would go beyond that.
>>5949175I doubt it. While the power only sees a minute into the future, unless something changes there shouldn't be a reason for the answer to shift. Dynamic, fluid situations like sneaking or chances of encounter may alter, but I don't think every situation is a Schrödinger's cat.Remember, we also got a Yes on being recognized as Emperor-Blessed earlier after entering the chapel as well.Furthermore, we could just keep asking the question of if now is the appropriate time to go until we get a yes.
>>5949179Of course, I wasn't voting for sleeping or staying around to chat, just supporting the name from the other anon.
>>5949163Supporting
>>5949175+1
Writing
"Aleta," you said, the name rolling off your tongue with surprising ease. The servitor, Aleta, stood perfectly still, her expression unreadable. "That's your name now, alright?""Acknowledged," she replied as she tilted her head slightly, her voice a smooth, synthetic cadence."Right, Aleta. Let's go."The neon glow of the casino faded behind you as you exited the casino, the servitor following silently at your heels. You scanned the bright neon streets, searching for some kind of back access point that would lead to the back of the building. Every city had its hidden veins, back alleys used for deliveries and discreet disposal.A narrow alley snagged your eye, a sliver between towering casino facades. It reeked of stale grease and overflowing trash bins – perfect. You went in deeper. Filth overflowed from containers, the stench a familiar, almost comforting Hive aroma. Parked along the tarmac, cargo levi-ships rested like slumbering metal beasts.And deeper in, hidden behind the vehicles, you saw it. A lone figure sprawled on the ground, unmistakable in their chrome-plated "metal man" aesthetic – a fallen Platino Tech-Priest. As a hiver, violence was a grim fact of life, but the weight of someone's death distracted you all the same.There, nestled in the grimy shadows behind the man, stood a levi-trolley. Four Platino-branded plastic barrels rested on its platform.A steely glint entered your eyes. You scanned the alley, your senses on high alert. No witnesses. Swiftly, you grasped the trolley's handle, the cool metal sending a shiver down your spine. Heaving it with surprising ease, you propelled it out of the alleyway's cramped confines and into the quieter neighbourhoods of Vassioport. Having explored around earlier, and the map, was paying dividends.---The clerk at the Crash Zone, a tie-dye clad dude with a perpetually glazed expression, eyed you and Aleta, then the barrels on the platform beside you. "Whoa, dude," he drawled, "Like, all this stuff ain't gonna fit in one room. It'd be major tiny, ya dig?"Aleta, ever stoic, remained silent while you considered your options. "Maybe, like, two rooms?" he suggested, offering a solution with the enthusiasm of a sloth trying to climb a tree. "And, uh, another one just for the barrels?""We'll fit." you countered. "Two rooms."The clerk shrugged, the embodiment of "not my circus, not my monkeys." "Whatever levitates your ship, man. Two rooms it is."* -20 credits ** -20 credits ** 45 credits remaining *---A groan escaped your lips as you stirred awake. You woke up slumped on the narrow floor of your barely bed-sized room, with your head against the cool plastic of one of the barrels, with the other behind it. Above you, the bed frame loomed precariously, laid on top of them both. After using Aleta's incredible brute strength to help you get them back on the levi-trolley, you checked out, and reached into your pocket for the tarot once more.
* You may now draw cards (>>5943408). Votes come after that, as usual *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Rolled 29 (1d100)>>5949585>If we wander around *insert poor, sketchy neighbourhood name* right around the corner will we be able to safely find a fence that will give us a decent price for our Zlatino titty fluid barrels?Someone should also ask a question scavenging or buying cheaply our next meal. Assuming we don't find someplace to easily sell 3 of the 4 barrels. Probably also ask about the chapel again, though we could just go there regardless of any questions, or lack of them.Wonder what the dead tech priest was about.
Rolled 98 (1d100)>>5949585Will we be able to find a good dealer for our Zlatino Barrels?
>>5949596God Damn alright then pal. Time to go be your good church boy then.
>>5949598>>5949596I think you might want to ask another question, it directly contradicts mine, I think.
>>5949596>>5949599I think so too, and it's possible that they missed your post while reading the update without auto-refresh.I'll let you (Hunter, WvhlZ6Fz) reroll.
Rolled 44 (1d100)>>5949585>"Is the Zlatino Tech-Guild doing tech-heresy?"
>>5949602Hanged*, oops
Rolled 90 (1d100)>>5949605It’s fine mate, alright in that case. “Can we get more Zlatino barrels to capture?”
>>5949606Whoops, meant to spell hang sorry. And it looks like we aren’t going to get any more barrels after this trade, so hopefully we can get really good deal with a trader on these things.
>>5949609We can always keep one. Just check the barrels to see which fluid is most important for maintenance of Aleta, or most relevant for Anon's fetishes and keep that one. Or siphon off a bottle's worth of each and sell either three of the four or all four of them.Per >>5949127 a full barrel is 25000, and a smaller wine bottle sized amount goes for 300. I expect we'll get half that price because both the dealer and us need a fair cut and the dealer is selling illegally and has to undercut the market price. I wouldn't sell for less than half though, since the dealer wouldn't be dealing with manufacturing and marketing costs.
>>5949602Mhm. Not necessarily contradictory.Being given a good price ( a fair offer), does not mean that we will get a reputable, professional, or non-malevolent fence.A Scam artist. A Undercover arbite. A slimeball gangster.>>5949585As for my question.> Should I bring Aleta along when I offer my services to the Ecclesiarchy?
Rolled 50 (1d100)>>5949622
Rolled 98 (1d100)>Did Aleta have an important identity before she became a Servitor?
>>5949651Womp Womp.Literally a nobody. Sad.
Rolled 1 (1d100)Are the Zlatino fluids useful in the care and maintenance of Aleta?
>>5949803Well, it sure fucking seems like they are now in this case.
Rolled 57 (1d100)>>5949806Will the church be happy if we brought Aleta in with us for prayer?
Summary:>>5949592>If we wander around *insert poor, sketchy neighbourhood name* right around the corner will we be able to safely find a fence that will give us a decent price for our Zlatino titty fluid barrels?[WEAK YES]>>5949603>"Is the Zlatino Tech-Guild doing tech-heresy?"[UNCERTAIN]>>5949606>"Can we get more Zlatino barrels to capture?"[NO]>>5949622> Should I bring Aleta along when I offer my services to the Ecclesiarchy?[UNCERTAIN]>>5949651>Did Aleta have an important identity before she became a Servitor?[EXTREME NO]>>5949803>Are the Zlatino fluids useful in the care and maintenance of Aleta?[EXTREME YES]>>5949807>Will the church be happy if we brought Aleta in with us for prayer?>[UNCERTAIN]-Yesterday's escape from the casino and your sleepiness had left you with little time to inspect your loot. Kneeling, you scrutinized the plastic containers. Each bore labels and seals in High Gothic sprawled across them in bold, imposing letters – somewhat decipherable thanks to your modestly fluent Low Gothic skills. Below it the titles, a sea of technical jargon swam beyond comprehension. The seals bore the inscriptions "Approved - Vassioport (something)" and "Chemical (something) - Vassioport (something)"."Aleta, do you know what these are?" you asked, figuring that she might have some idea."Of course, Mr. Anon," she replied, emotionless. Then, a sudden mechanical whirring filled the air, followed by a jarringly cheerful jingle. You braced yourself."When it comes to quality, there's only one name to trust: Zlatino!" Aleta's voice boomed in a pre-recorded, overly enthusiastic tone. Her eyes glazed over momentarily as she transformed into a walking advertisement."This is... Synthetic Blood Fluid! Keep your servitor in tip-top shape with this convenient product! Simply apply to designated port, and voila! No specialist Tech-Priest required!" Aleta gestured towards one of the barrels with a metallic hand.The pre-recorded voice continued, "General Fat Imitation Oil... Bust Volume Imitation Oil!..." Aleta thrust her chest out with the last one, gears whirring faintly. "...and! -"Suddenly, Aleta froze. Her voice became flat, devoid of emotion. "In-house military-grade lubricant 213-J-Gamma, internal use only, not for sale." The commercial jingle abruptly cut off.Then, with a snap, Aleta was back to her artificially cheerful self. "Import your Zlatino products from anywhere! Use them anywhere! And remember: Quality guaranteed!"Finally, the jingle played again, and Aleta blinked, snapping out of her commercial trance. "There you have it, Mr. Anon," she said in her usual monotone. "Right." you muttered, wondering about the whole 'military grade' thing. You raised a brow at the labels. Anyways, why sell separate the bust and fat oils if they were both well, just fat, no? Maybe the marketing ploy worked better that way? You wouldn't know, of course. Your knowledge of feminine anatomy was purely "academic".
---Leaving Aleta back at the sterile hotel lobby to guard the barrels, just around the corner, you entered the Footwash neighbourhood, as marked on your map. A stark contrast to the vibrant casino district, here the streets were grimy and the air thick with a stale, acrid odor. Emaciated figures shuffled along the sidewalks, their eyes vacant and unfocused. Women, their faces caked in garish makeup and dressed in almost nothing, leaned against grimy walls as they smoked. The air hung heavy with a miasma of cheap stimulants and decay.Ahead, in a vast open-air parking lot, a fence market sprawled across the asphalt, each vendor using their vehicle as a makeshift stall. Open trunks and hoods displayed a macabre collection of wares – stolen luxury car parts glinted under the flickering streetlights, nestled beside exotic jewelry, weapons, and suspicious little baggies.Of course, you were no stranger to these kinds of places. These sort of markets are where your mother, God-Emperor bless her soul, used to score you good shoes, decent clothes (ones that didn't itch, you remembered fondly), and maybe even a book for your state catechesis classes before that damn overdose took her. You knew the drill: keep your eyes peeled but your mouth shut, feign disinterest in your true prize, and throw out a few false leads to mask your intentions.After a bit of strategic snooping around, you got the skinny that your Zlatino barrels - if legit - could be sold here to a certain fellow for about 15,000 - 18,000 creds each. You also found a section overflowed with all manner of "going out" dresses, frilly maid outfits, and even streetwear, all tailored specifically for the larger proportions favored by higher-class Glitterport clientele; coming at about 100 creds each.Thirty minutes. That's all it took to navigate the labyrinthine alleys and give the fence market a short look. Back at the hotel lobby, you surveyed the loot – the barrels and the silent Aleta. The deck was still cold. What do you do?Barrels?> Sell them all> Make Aleta's bust enormous with the bust one, buy her a new maid outfit, sell the rest.> Keep them all for nowDo?> Go to the chapel, reveal yourself as someone with special abilities.> Go check your options for getting a ride to elsewhere on the Glitterglobe, what that place is like and the price to go there.> Go visit a large mall and check the prices on stuff (write-in up to three stores/kind of items to check, I'll do most if not all of the write-ins if this option wins).> Inspect the fence market more in depth, check the prices on stuff (write-in up to three stores/kind of items to check, I'll do most if not all of the write-ins if this option wins).> Socialize with the people at the fence market, try to make contacts.> Write-in
>>5949885Okay, all of this shit aside from the fat/boob fluid is really important. I say we keep the synthetic blood and siphon off at least a couple of bottles of the military lubricant. Still, that lubricant is probably the most valuable, so it is still worth selling. We just need to make sure we have enough for ourselves.>>5949886Barrels>Keep the Synthetic Blood barrel, siphon of two or three bottles of the military lubricant, and one bottle of each of the fat types. Then sell all everything except the bottles and synthetic blood. Buy a maid outfit.If we don't have bottles or tubing to siphon stuff, just quickly dumpster dive or purchase some from the vendors.> Go visit a large mall and check the prices on stuff (Food, clothes that fit and don't itch, plus a backpack from the same store, a premium dataslate without adware).
>Zlatino may or may not dable in tech heresy>we pilfered their maintenance oils>including one that's only for use by Zlatino themselvesWe fence any of these we're likely to die at the hands of Zlatino Ruststalkers.>>5949886>Keep them all for nowThey're all used for maintenance of our servitor, might aswell keep them.>Go to the chapel, reveal yourself as someone with special abilities.Try to find the same Deacon we spoke to on our last visit. Show him the Tarot and tell him we asked it for guidance after our last visit, and it showed us that we had a purpose to fullfill in service to the Ecclesiarchy.
>>5949896Forgot to quickly say, remember guys, we're not rich yet, we literally only have 45 credits. Unless we sell something here. So worrying about either working/gambling for our next meal and actually eating at the correct times of the day is actually important still, assuming anons choose not to sell.I do think selling is good though, the deck said we got away undetected, and someone snitching on us sounds like a good way to get themselves killed for being involved in...you know, selling the stolen product, or betraying the dealer if they were just an observer to the deal going down. Not to mention the cat is already out of the bag given that we've already inquired about it, and people already know we've been snooping around asking about prices. May as well solve our money problem at least.>>5949897Eh. Are the fats really necessary? Will they erode on a barely human cyborg? Like I said, I think a few siphoned bottles is enough. The lubricants and blood sound pretty important though.
>>5949908Eh no matter what else comes along to be voted upon, I am absolutely always going to vote for this option. > Make Aleta's bust enormous with the bust one. It would be both a sin and a disappointment to not please him on earth by giving ourselves truly something spectacular to have like a pair of enormous tits. For Anon’s sake, this option must win!
>>5949923You do you anon. I'm more of a 'medium is premium' kinda guy, but Aleta is literally built to be fitted for taste and adjusted as desired, so w/e.
>>5949886> Make Aleta's bust enormous with the bust one, buy her a new maid outfit, sell the rest.> Go visit a large mall and check the prices on stuff (write-in up to three stores/kind of items to check, I'll do most if not all of the write-ins if this option wins).>Weapons>Big motorcycle or similar with a large cargo capacity>DripBIG BUCKS AND BIG RACKS
> Keep them all for now> Go to the chapel, and reveal yourself as someone with special abilities.
>>5949896I disagree we should go to the Chapel and get a better form of living area find a way to make use of our ability to make money and find someplace that could be used as a hideout or safe place to live.
ALL THE BARRELS ARE NECESSARY FOR MAINTENANCE REMEMBER?!?!?!For goodness sake keep the fluids and get protection from the Chapel to strengthen our power, and begin fortune telling and divining for pay, and luxuries.
Rolled 16 (1d100)> Will giving Aleta a massive bust threaten her ability to protect me and cause issues with her efficiency or performance.
>>5949803Please look at this and remember.
>>5949957Based Truth from the Big man himself! You heard the Man, Big is best no matter what!
>makes five posts of sperg in quick succession instead of just condensing it to a single postLives up to the name he gave himself at least.
>>5949954I agree we should switch living areas before night time. I don't agree with the use of the barrels.If people don't want to sell here, or hell, even if they do, then that means worrying about our next meal, which means choosing to eat before heading to the church. Like, this is basic order of operations for daily life. You eat before you work right? If we choose to have an instant influx of cash then we could skip over having to choose to eat and stuff and that could all be handled in the background and summarized by QM. But while we are still poor, where we spend our very limited supply of money is important. How is this hard to understand?>>5949957The deck is still 'cold' remember. We do the question phase, then action phase, not both at once. Or are you just joke rolling?>>5949958I remember, but the way your question is phrased makes the answer unclear. Contrary to >>5949956 I think it is pretty easy to conclude that not all four barrels are necessary for her maintenance, just some. Like, do you really need boob oil and fat oil to keep a servitor running? And in such high quantities?>>5949959? His question and answer literally says giving her massive boobs makes her worse at protecting us and worsens her performance. Thankfully it is non-canon.
Okay I concede that I may have reacted harshly, I wait for QM to mitigate and will accept the ultimate decision
>>5949970No worries man, slip-ups happen to the best of us. I appreciate your discussion and insights regardless and I look forwards to more.This >>5949957 roll is indeed not canon, because it's not the tarot/question/roll phase.
>>5949886I'll switch to support >>5949897 since we're tied up and it is my preference if we choose not to be particular with which barrels we sell. I don't want to sell all of them, just some.>>5949970Eh, I wouldn't say your reaction was harsh, just a little excited.
>>5949897Supporting.While we have little money for now, I want to see how things play out before we sell off the Oils. While our money is limited at this second, we might end up getting something like a stipend which will allow us to hold onto the barrels until we get a better price or other use for them.
>>5949897Supporting.
>>5949897+1
>>5949897I'll back this. Gigantic titties are great but they're also attention grabbing and if anyone associated with Zlatino catches on, we're dead. We've got to be smart.
>>5950204I'm >>5949603, again.
>Keep them all for now>Go to the chapel, reveal yourself as someone with special abilities.You decide to keep the barrels and go to the Imperial Chapel and try to meet up with the Deacon that you met before.Soon, the imposing silhouette of the government building loomed before you once more, and unsure if you should bring the barrels in with you, you leave Aleta to guard them outside.---Inside the chapel, the air hung heavy with incense and murmured prayers. Artifical sunlight filtering through stained glass windows cast an ethereal glow on the worn pews. You scanned the room, your heart pounding a frantic rhythm against your ribs. There, in the soft light of a flickering candle, sat the Deacon from your earlier encounter."Deacon!" you called out, your voice a touch too loud in the hushed reverence of the chapel. He turned, a gentle smile softening his weathered features."Ah, it's you again," he chuckled softly. "What brings you back to the house of the God-Emperor today?"Guilt gnawed at you. You shuffled your feet and ran a hand through your already messy hair, the ingrained fear of witchcraft warring with your newfound determination. "I, uh," you stammered, "it's not easy to say."He studied you with kind eyes, sensing your struggle. "Take your time, son," he encouraged.You took another deep breath, the words catching in your throat. "I'm a witch," you finally blurted, the word tasting like ash on your tongue. "A psyker. And I..." you hesitated, then continued in a rush, "I want to put my abilities to the service of the Emperor!"The Deacon raised an eyebrow, a flicker of surprise crossing his face, quickly replaced by a look of quiet admiration. "That's a brave decision, coming forward like this," he said, his voice calm and reassuring. "Tell me, young man, what is your name?""Anon," you mumbled sheepishly."Well, Anon," he replied, a warm smile gracing his lips, "you can call me Benedict." He gestured to a nearby bench, inviting you to sit. "Now, tell me more about this idea of yours. What makes you think you are a psyker?"You reached into your pocket, pulling out the deck of Emperor's Tarot. Its sleek, psycho-reactive wafers gleamed in the dim light. "This," you declared, "The Emperor's Tarot. I can use it. It answers my questions, and it's... well, it's never wrong."Benedict's eyes widened. "The Emperor's Tarot?" he echoed, his voice tinged with disbelief. "And where, precisely, did you acquire this thing?"You avoided his gaze, a wave of heat creeping up your neck. "It, uh, it was in the prize display at an arcade," you mumbled, hoping he wouldn't pry further.The Deacon's demeanor shifted abruptly. He made a sharp whistle, like the shriek of a startled bird, pierced the reverent hush of the chapel. "Sister Diamond!" he called, his voice urgent. "We have a potential G-12 here, possibly a H-34 and T-2 as well."
Before you could register his words, a blur of black and silver descended from a balcony above. A Sister of Battle, encased in power armor that gleamed faintly in the stained-glass light, landed with a bone-jarring thud. Her cold bolter was now pressed directly into your temple. Instinct kicked in, and you flinched back, but the Sister's armored hand clamped down on your skull, pinning you back in place."Easy there, Anon" a gruff voice rasped from behind the visor. "Don't make this harder than it needs to be.""Don't panic, Anon," the Deacon said quickly, his voice reassuring despite the tension that crackled around you. "This is just a precaution, for your safety and ours."Sweat beaded on your forehead despite the cool air of the chapel. You stammered out a reply, "O-of course, father." ---[YES]... [NO]... [WEAK YES]... [NO]..."The coin is in your right hand." you declared, after asking the Tarot once it got warm again."Correct... Again." A blind man with long black hair, Septimus, sat across from you, his brow furrowed in intense concentration. Then, a long, heavy, uncomfortable silence.The back room felt sterile and cold, a stark contrast to the ornate chapel on the other side. A single, bare table dominated the space, casting long shadows under the dim flickering of a single flickering bulb. You sat stiffly on a rickety chair, Sister Diamond still beside you, the feel of her bolter a constant reminder of your precarious situation. "Brother Septimus?" Benedict's voice crackled from a hidden vox-caster. "Everything alright?"Septimus then hummed, a low, croaking sound that sent shivers down your spine. He held a palm outstretched directly in front of your face, his milky white eyes seeming to focus with unnatural intensity. The minute stretched into an eternity, the silence broken only by your ragged breaths."Septimus?" Benedict insisted.Finally, Septimus retracted his hand. "This... man," he rasped, his voice rough and impatient. "He seems adept at masking his psychic signature somehow."Confused, you blurted out, "What do you mean? I'm not hiding anything."His voice dropped to a harsh whisper. "Are you trying to hold it back right now? Your... power? Answer, yes or no!"You shook your head, fear constricting your throat. "No, no."Septimus slowly leaned back. "Intriguing. Then his psychic imprint registers around... Ordinal Pi or Omicron, maybe even Xi. That's... ridiculous for someone able to use the Emperor's Tarot. And they're not even Soul-Bound. It's silly."Septimus's croaking voice rasped, "The Tarot, give it to me." You hesitantly pushed the deck across the table. He snatched it with an unnatural swiftness, his milky eyes seeming to bore into the cards even though he couldn't see them.
He began shuffling the deck with surprising dexterity, his gnarled fingers moving with a practiced rhythm. Then, with a flourish, he slammed the cards face up on the table. A bead of sweat trickled down your temple as you watched him repeat the process – shuffle, slam, repeat. Each time, a wave of heat washed over you, a sensation both foreign and intensely uncomfortable. It wasn't a bodily heat; it felt as if your own skin had somehow transferred to the location of the deck, burning with a chilling intensity.Finally, on the fourth iteration, Septimus stopped. The heat vanished as abruptly as it came. He stared at the cards, his brow furrowed in a deep crease. "Ah," he rasped, his voice barely a whisper. "I think I see the problem now.""To explain it in terms we can understand... think of the Emperor's Tarot as a finely tuned instrument," he said, his voice raspy but surprisingly clear. "Too much psychic force and you overblow the notes, rendering the melody meaningless. It requires a... careful touch, and a lot of finesse. Especially with the way that this deck in particular has been calibrated.""Most psykers," he continued, "are born with similar levels of inherent raw power and their ability to command it, consciously or subconsciously. However, with you, Anon, it seems the balance is skewed. I speculate that you hardly have any raw power, but you innately have... *obscene* levels of dexterity."
The implication hung heavy in the air. "Unheard of," Septimus muttered, his brow furrowed. "But, extrapolating from what we already understand... I believe we can safely assume that he's hardly a meal for the Other Forces. No need to keep holding these formalities, Sister."Diamond hesitated, her grip tightening on the bolter for a fleeting moment before she reluctantly holstered it."Frankly." Septimus continued. "I don't know what we could do with the man. His strength is going to be far too... pathetic to succeed at the typical psyker curriculum, and nobody has the preparation to train someone like him in... anything. Yes, we have had cases of people being innately skilled but low-power, just, not to this... extreme.""There's no rush to decide his ultimate future." Benedict's voice soothed over the vox. "He will need basic education regardless. We can send him to the Schola Progenium for now until we can figure something out, yes?"Septimus rudely snorted in amusement, "Basic education, yes, of course. But, Anon, how old are you?"You squirmed under his unyielding gaze. "Twenty... something," you mumbled, unsure how this revelation might affect their decision. (Maybe even thirty by now? You didn't keep track.)Benedict interjected, his tone clipped, "Age shouldn't be an issue."---A hint of pride flickered in Benedict's eyes as he straightened your jacket and collar at the chapel entrance, and stuffed your deck back into your pocket. "Alright, Anon," he began, slapping the side of your shoulders, his voice warm. "Tomorrow's the big day. School starts bright and early at five – the Schola's right down the street, that big building over there, can't miss it. Ends whenever the instructors say so, could be a long day. Be there early, make a good first impression, alright?"He paused, then reached into his robes and produced a rolled-up scroll. "Here, this is for you, give it to them tomorrow. Any trouble, any questions at all, don't hesitate to come back here. Understand? It's my job to help." A beat of silence. "The Emperor expects great things from you, Anon. I have a feeling you won't disappoint."* Obtained Church's Schola Order *You nodded, overwhelmed with a mix of emotions. "Thank you, Benedict," you managed, sincerity heavy in your voice. "I... I truly appreciate it."A faint, knowing smile played on the Deacon's lips. "Just serving the Emperor, son."---It's about midday, and the deck feels warm and ready to be used again, but with a odd tinge of... something. Something that reminded you of the caustic heat from Septimus from earlier.
* You may now draw cards (>>5943408). Votes for what action to take come after that, as usual ** Septimus's use of your deck and his excessive psychic power to do so has knocked your Emperor's Tarot temporarily off-balance. Only for this round, all dicerolls with dice that show dubs (rolled 11, 22, 33, etc) are a result of [UNCERTAIN] instead of their normal value. *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Can someone help me brainstorm I have no idea on what to ask.
>>5950592Same, I’m coming up with a blank myself.
Rolled 37 (1d100)>>5950582> If I conduct some research on the Church's schola order - will I learn something that will help me leave a better first impression on my instructors?
Rolled 50 (1d100)>>5950582Would (that random official-looking chapel person) be helpful and have useful ideas for how to cultivate my unique psyker traits?
>>5950592>>5950602Some of our current problems are:- Money, food, where to live- What the "enemies of the Emperor" danger is (>>5945093)- We're still awkwardly dragging around Zlatino barrels in broad daylight- How to progress our psyker abilities, nobody seems to know (ironically we have the best power for figuring out how to do that)- We're still maidenless (Aleta doesn't count)
Rolled 16 (1d100)>Will the deacon help me with the storage or sale of Zlatino Fluids without scamming or any other outright financial scam towards me, including refusal?PRAY FOR A LOW ROLL AND NO DOUBLE!!! FOR THE EMPEROR!
>>5950645My lucky streak is still going strong.
Rolled 2 (1d100)>>5950582>Will it be in my best interest use the General Fat Imitation Oil on Aleta?
Rolled 95 (1d100)IP keeps wandering in weird ways, so biting the bullet and being a trip>>5950622I'll go for a bit of insight on the Enemies of the Emperor.> Has the Schola Progenium been infiltrated by any Enemies of the Emperor?
>>5950679Nice
Rolled 57 (1d100)>>5950582Is the food going to be decent?
Rolled 95 (1d100)>>5950582>Will I have good classmates?
>>5950717oh no. Someone ask if we will learn a lot or have the chance to learn a lot.
>>5950715>>5950717One question per anon lad.I don't think your second question will be processed.
>>5950722that's good hope there is another anon that can make the same question and get a lower roll.
Rolled 14 (1d100)>>5950622“Can we try and find a safe place to train our psychic powers?”
>>5950724>>5950740Alright, now I feel bad for missing that when I made by question and then my roll and the past 5 posts suddenly showed up, but on the bright side, we can definitely find some place that will absolutely be safe for us to train our psychic powers without getting found out and burned, or overload ourselves and blow up.
Rolled 61 (1d100)>>5950582Do our psychic powers have any potential for independent precognition?
>>5950748Yeah, that makes sense. We're WEAK in terms of raw power but likely Alpha+ tier for stability and control.
>>5950613> If I conduct some research on the Church's schola order - will I learn something that will help me leave a better first impression on my instructors?[WEAK YES]>>5950618>Would (that random official-looking chapel person) be helpful and have useful ideas for how to cultivate my unique psyker traits?[UNCERTAIN]>>5950645>Will the deacon help me with the storage or sale of Zlatino Fluids without scamming or any other outright financial scam towards me, including refusal?[YES]>>5950669>Will it be in my best interest use the General Fat Imitation Oil on Aleta?[EXTREME YES]>>5950679> Has the Schola Progenium been infiltrated by any Enemies of the Emperor?[NO]>>5950715> Is the food going to be decent?[UNCERTAIN]>>5950740>“Can we try and find a safe place to train our psychic powers?”[YES]>>5950748>Do our psychic powers have any potential for independent precognition?[WEAK NO]As mentioned before, I don't allow you to Schrodinger yourself new abilities, but you are indeed allowed to ask these questions and I will respond ex cathedra. It just happens that this one rolled the correct answer anyways. ---The Deacon generously allowed you to store three barrels back in the chapel's underground storage for now. You were left with the General Fat Imitation Oil - the one the Tarot practically screamed at you to use with an "Extreme Yes." But the thought of Aleta as a chubby mess left you cold. "Could it just go... like, all to your boobs?" you grumbled.Aleta's monotone voice chimed in, "Negative. Localized application is not possible. It is general only."Sigh. "Is it reversible?" you hoped."Yes" she began, "but permanent stretching will occur."Ugh. Scam. Double sigh. But the Tarot... With a resigned sigh, you ordered, "Alright, Aleta. Apply the whole thing. This whole barrel. Go."She produced a collapsible tube from her metallic depths and attached it to the barrel and a port on her back. The barrel tilted, the golden liquid gurgling as it filled Aleta's synthetic form. Her once sleek figure stretched and bulged, morphing into a caricature of human obesity. Just as the last drop drained from the barrel, a guttural roar echoed through the air – in High Gothic, which you could somewhat parse, coming from outside, at the building next door."PURGE THE GLITTERGLOBE MUTANTS! PURGE THE MUTANTS OF THE ELITE! PURGE THE MUTANT! THE MUTANT!!!..." the voice bellowed, followed by a terrifying string of unfamiliar words. "PRAISE THE GOD-EMP---!"
Then, the world erupted. Gunfire rattled, a muffled boom resonated, and a torrent of fire and glass shot out as the chapel's side windows shattered. Aleta reacted instantly, throwing her newly-inflated bulk in front of you, absorbing the brunt of the explosion. The chaos subsided as abruptly as it began. Smoke filled the air, and the only sounds were crackling flames and the distant wail of sirens. A horrifying sight awaited you. The front half of your servitor was a grotesque mess, synthetic fat melting and dripping like burning oil. Shards of glass embedded themselves deep in the charred gunk. Aleta's head, now a charred parody of its former self, turned towards you, revealing a layer of surprisingly human-like skin beneath."Mr. Anon," Aleta rasped, her voice a distorted echo through the melted mess that was once her face. "Are you... unharmed?"You blinked, ears still ringing in the aftermath of the explosion. A cursory check revealed no injuries – you were miraculously unscathed. Glancing around, you saw others weren't so lucky. A few figures lay sprawled, charred and bleeding amidst the debris."You?" you choked out, eyes fixed on Aleta's molten form."Outer shell compromised," she stated with unnerving efficiency despite the horror show her body presented. "Complete replacement required. Recommend 'Sharlotte Skin, Aesthetic Finish 1200' from Zlatino – quality guaranteed. All other systems are all at optimal performance."Sisters of Battle barked orders. "Mobile civilians, evacuate the premises! Out, out, out!"---A chill wind whipped through the growing crowd, goosebumps erupting on your skin despite the smoke haze lingering from the explosion. You stood shoulder-to-shoulder with the crowd, Aleta's ravaged form a stark reminder of the devastation within. Her outer shell, once pristine and smooth, now hung in tatters, revealing a complex network of wires and servos intertwined with her flesh.A cacophony of shouts and panicked questions filled the air."What in the Emperor's name happened?" a woman shrieked, clutching a child close."Inside job, I tell ya! Heretics in the government!""I heard it was a suicide bomber!""Yeah me too! He said something about 'mutants'!""How could they breach security?!"A man, his face streaked with ash, scanned the crowd with desperate eyes. "Janiss! My son, Janiss! Anyone seen him?"Cops, clad in riot gear, surged through the throng, their faces grim. One, a burly officer with a scar etched across his cheek, barked orders. "Disperse! You're obstructing the investigation! Move it!" He brandished his shock baton with a menacing glint.Fear and anger crackled in the air, the crowd a volatile mix of grief and fury.---
You cast a worried glance at Aleta as you navigated the debris-strewn street, the echoes of sirens and terrified shouts fading into the distance. "You're really alright?" you asked her, as she was yanking off the last bits of her outer self. She looked a lot more like a normal servitor now, just... a lot more compact than the usual ones you've seen."Yes." she admitted. "All essential systems are functioning within optimal parameters"---What do you do? The deck is cold.> Go back to the chapel area and try to find out if the Deacon Benedict, Septimus and others are all alright.> Look for something to eat, you're very hungry> Go to the Schola and investigate how it's like> Look for a "safe place to train our psychic powers", where you can meditate and calm yourself.> Write in
>>5950811>Conduct some research on the ScholaThis will help us all-around. First impressions are everything.
>>5950811> Go back to the chapel area and try to find out if the Deacon Benedict, Septimus and others are all alright.Then> Go to the Schola and investigate how it's like
>>5950578Boy, I'm glad we didn't choose to bring Aleta inside. That would've made a mess of things.>>5950809wtfI guess we have a hint of the danger of the Enemies of the Emperor now.>>5950811> Go to the Schola and investigate how it's likeI'd love to help people, but the right people to do that are already here. We could help investigate with our Tarot, but the deck is cold. Better to just do what we know will help us, only so much time in the day to research after all. Maybe pick up some food from a street vendor on the way.
>>5950809Huh. So the Fat roll was for protection against a bomb. I thought that we accidentally stumbled across the Emperor's porn stash.Anyway, going with >>5950845. It'd be a bad idea to show up at the Schola and it turns out that the guy we got a letter from was incapacitated or killed by the attack. We'd probably get fucked over really hard by that.
>>5950815+1
>Conduct some research on the ScholaDeciding to go research, you continued further down, until you crossed the bustling street, Aleta following you, the imposing Schola Progenium dominating the view. Its architecture, while adorned with the righteous might of Imperial iconography, held a faint echo of the city's vibrant casinos. Stepping into the bar across the street, the air was thick with the aroma of hops and grilled meats. A man with a handlebar mustache and a well-worn bartender's apron polished a glass with practiced ease."Sandwich, please," you requested, even if the price tag threatened to break the ten-credit barrier. Your stomach ached with hunger. "That's the Schola Progenium back there, yeah?"* -9 credits *The bartender beamed, pride radiating from him like sunbeams. "Vassioport State Schola Progenium, finest there is! My own boy, studies there. On track to become a Commissar, mind you.""A Commissar, that's fantastic! How are his studies going? What's the Schola like these days?""Top-notch, sir, top-notch!" he boomed, his laughter echoing through the bar. "Combat simulators so real you'd swear you were on the front lines! Finest instructors, top-of-the-line gear – a far cry from my days, that's for sure!" He chuckled. "We had to pretend-shoot with broken lasguns! Silly times, those were. But look at Vassioport now! The Schola's better than ever! Breeds the finest defenders of the Imperium, that place does.""That's great," you leaned forward, genuinely intrigued. "Combat sims sound intense. Does he ever talk about the academics? Strategy, history, that kind of thing?"The bartender leaned back on the counter, wiping his hands on his apron. "Absolutely! Strategy's half the battle, wouldn't you say? They've got instructors who are veterans themselves, fought all across the galaxy. Teach you everything you need to know about battlefield formations, flanking maneuvers, exploiting enemy weaknesses. My Gregor keeps coming home spouting all these fancy terms – outflanking, pincer movements, sounds complicated but vital stuff, I reckon.""Are there any specific qualities the Schola looks for in their students? What would make a good first impression?" you continue.The bartender leaned back, stroking his mustache thoughtfully. "Well, they obviously want the strong-willed, the ones with a fire for the Emperor in their hearts. But beyond that... let's see. Here's what I tell Gregor: punctuality, respect for authority, and a willingness to learn. Show them you're dedicated, eager to serve the Imperium, and you'll do just fine."
A middle-aged woman in a fancy glitter dress but with a foreign accent similar to yours slid onto a barstool next to you, her voice barely a whisper. Her eyes flicked towards the imposing Schola Progenium across the street, then back to you. "But getting into that Schola takes a lot of..." she rubbed her thumb into her fingers for a 'money' sign, a sly grin spreading across her face. "It ain't no place for orphans with empty pockets, hmmm?"She chuckled again, downing a hefty gulp of her pint.The bartender, catching the woman's insinuation, boomed with laughter. "Good thing I have you, woman, to pay for so many drinks to keep up with my boy's tuition, eh?"The woman cackled, throwing her head back and holding up her drink. "That's right you sonnovabitch!", both then erupted into laughter.---Anxiety gnawed at you as you retraced your steps towards the imposing Schola Progenium. Keeping a low profile, you tried to merge with the bustling crowd. Nearing the entrance, your gaze snagged on a bulletin board plastered with colorful posters. One advertised a student military parade – a chance for proud parents to witness their offspring's grace and discipline. Another boasted of specialized tutoring classes, while a third, emblazoned with a skull and crossed boltguns, sent a jolt through you – a conference by a Space Marine! Here, at this very Schola?Reaching the bottom of the board, you spotted a stack of pamphlets. Slipping one into your pocket with practiced stealth, you continued walking, your mind already devouring the contents. The pamphlet extolled the virtues of the Schola, boasting of the finest education Vassioport had to offer. It spoke of unwavering faith, rigorous discipline, and fostering camaraderie amongst students from diverse Imperial cultures – a necessity in such a cosmopolitan city, you supposed. Finally, the pamphlet segued from inter-Imperial friendship to drone on about "tolerance" and "acceptance" in a more ambiguous, broad way. Each repetition felt like a needle prick under your skin. Back in your hive city, such concepts were whispered about with suspicion, even by those who meant well. A Trojan horse to heresy.---Your deck of the Emperor's Tarot felt warm again, and Septimus' weighing influence on it seems to have faded away entirely.* You may now draw cards (>>5943408). Votes for what action to take come after that, as usual *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
I probably should have made Anon recall this in-character, but, as a QM I did not forget about this:> Has the Schola Progenium been infiltrated by any Enemies of the Emperor?[NO]
Rolled 66 (1d100)Odd place for the Imperium. We know its not been infiltrated by Enemies of the Emperor at least.Don't think I'll delve into them this time. Instead, will try to find out about Aleta a bit.> Does Aleta possess the ability to develop into a self-actualized individual?Let's see if she can fully become a person or will be stuck in her programming.
>>5951297Hmm...so looks like she'll be restricted by Servitor programming in ordinary circumstances, but that can be changed. Whether that will be due to treatment, environmental pressures, a freak event, or breaking a mental lock is unclear.
Rolled 57 (1d100)>>5951279>"Are there any other psykers in this Schola?"
Rolled 5 (1d100)>>5951279In (random street) over there, will I find a toy that in some way represents these "Enemies of the Emperor"?
>>5951315BINGO
Rolled 2 (1d100)>>5951279>Will I have a chance to meet the Space Marine?
>>5951297> Does Aleta possess the ability to develop into a self-actualized individual?[WEAK NO]>>5951301>"Are there any other psykers in this Schola?"[UNCERTAIN]>>5951315>In (random street) over there, will I find a toy that in some way represents these "Enemies of the Emperor"?[YES]>>5951317>Will I have a chance to meet the Space Marine?[EXTREME YES]Based on the Tarot's fortune, you sent yourself down a shadowed alley, its only companions overflowing garbage containers. Then, your gaze snagged on a grotesque sight. A doll, its four arms a mockery of the divine human form, sported a mismatched human head from a completely different toy. Enemies of the Emperor indeed. You scooped it up, tucking the "evidence" into your jacket.* Four-Armed Toy Acquired *
>>5951373> GenestealeraaaaaaaaaaaaaaaAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA-
"Enjoying the local arts and crafts, citizen?" A smooth voice echoed from above. You whirled around, heart hammering against your ribs, to see a Space Marine suspended mid-air. Clad in dark armor devoid of insignia, he descended with eerie silence, held aloft by invisible filamentsAleta hissed beside you, her internal lasgun emerging with a menacing whir."Wow, another freaky doll. Do you collect these kind of things?" the Space Marine chuckled, dropping gracefully to the ground without a sound. "Please do enlighten me, citizen."Desperate, you blurted, "I'm a psyker! She's my servitor, sir! And, that... toy, I... just *percieve* things." You fumbled for the Church's parchment, shoving it towards him. "I'm starting my training for the Imperium soon! See?"The Space Marine studied the parchment with a scanner built into his helmet. A long moment of silence stretched between you. Finally, he spoke, a hint of a smile evident in his voice, "Well, well. You're not kidding."He raised a hand, and with a shimmer that disrupted the air itself, the Space Marine vanished into thin air.---It's getting dark, and you're really hungry."Nutrition levels low. Please feed me, Mr.Anon." Aleta mumbled.Oh. Your servitor needs to eat too. You have 36 credits left.Sleep?> Sleep on the street> Sleep at the Crash Zone (-20 creds)> Look for a cheaper place to sleep (can't choose a second option for what to do)> Write inWhat do you do?> Look for a place to eat with your remaining credits> Beg for money> Busk for money by pretending to tell people's fortunes with the deck> Write in
>>5951376> Look for a cheaper place to sleep (can't choose a second option for what to do)> Busk for money by pretending to tell people's fortunes with the deck
>>5951376>Try to get some sort of financial assistance from the Schola.
>>5951385+1
>>5951376> Sleep at the Crash Zone (-20 creds)What do you do?> Look for a place to eat with your remaining credits> Busk for money to tell people's fortunes with the deck for realMaybe 10 credits a card?
> Look for a cheaper place to sleepFinally, after hours of dead ends and dubious offers, you stumbled upon Kiki's Corner in the Footwash neighbourhood. At a mere ten credits a night, it was a steal compared to the Crash Zone. The clientele, a motley crew of poor-looking locals with tired eyes and calloused hands, confirmed its budget-friendly status. There was even a supermarket next to it with food that didnt cost a kidney, from the which you bought plenty cheap grox paste bars for yourself and Aleta and immediately ate. The room was just as small as the Crash Zone's, but that was all you needed.* - 10 credits ** - 5 credits ** - 5 credits ** 15 credits left *Collapsing onto the thin mattress, you clutched Aleta close, and fell asleep.---The pre-dawn light cast an unforgiving glare on the Schola lobby's sterile white walls, a stark contrast to the vibrant nightlife chaos you'd just left outside. Vassioport never truly slept. Here, in the austere quiet, a gorgeous woman in a militaristic uniform pored over your Church document. It made you forget the new "MUTANTS!" graffiti you had noticed that had been defiantly spray-canned in red and High Gothic, on the school's wall outside. "This is..." she murmured. You caught yourself staring, mesmerized. Faces like hers belonged in glossy magazines, holovids, not tucked in a uniform. Those eyelashes (was it makeup? but makeup - *here*?) defied gravity with their curl. Her uniform, some variant of the Astra Militarum's, skimmed her figure, hinting at a narrow waist that disappeared into high-waisted trousers that held her outstandingly long legs. It was a such pity that she was, well. Completely flat. Yup."Anon," she finally said, snapping you out of your reverie. Her eyes, a piercing caramel, the color of honey-soda, met yours. "I'm Maria Seflejo. From now on, for you, Instructor Seflejo.""My pleasure, Miss Se...fleyoh," you replied, managing a bow.A hint of a smile played on her lips. "Instructor," she corrected, her voice laced with amusement. "And Sefle-jo. Not Yoh. Let's hear the Vassio in your pronunciation, alé, alé."You attempted to mimic the unfamiliar syllables, the sound foreign on your tongue. "Sefle...jo?"A firm, hearty slap landed on your back. "There you go, Anon! You'll get the hang of it.""So, we're going to have to test your levels in everything first," she continued, striding towards a doorway at the back of the lobby. "You can write, right?""Yeah," you muttered. "Pretty well.""Yes, Instructor," she corrected, a playful lilt to her voice. "I'll be right back."---
After a grueling morning of doing test after test in the school's library, under the watchful gaze of its librarian who was copying texts with additional robotic arms for pens, with Aleta being kept away in the Schola's storage for now, you finally finished. You notified the librarian, who took your papers littered with short sentences and crossed in boxes, and a tense handful of minutes after, he gave the papers back to Seflejo who marched into the room."Let's see your scores then, anon." she beamed.***- Pre-Initiate: Prior to education- Initiate (Basic instruction): Aprox 8-10 years old- Acolyte (Core general education, some specialization): Aprox 11-14 years old- Candidate (Career specialization): Aprox 15-18 years oldAnon's knowledge levels:IMPERIAL ESSENTIALS- Imperial History and Culture: Early Acolyte level- Ecclesiastical Instruction: Mid-Late Acolyte levelMILITARY- Weaponry and Ballistics: Late Initiate level- Tactics and Strategy: Late Acolyte levelTECHNICAL- Logis, Mathemathiques and Lex-Geometrics: Early Candidate level- Omnissian Instruction: Mid-Late Acolyte level***"You got some solid basics." she started off, looking at your Imperial Essentials. "The state catechesis, right? From Tarass?""Yes." you replied. That's where you learnt how to read and write too, bless your momma.Her gaze darted to the Military section. A single eyebrow arched as she saw the "Late Initiate" mark for weaponry and ballistics. "Late Initiate, huh? You at least know which end of a lasgun to hold, then?" she said, a playful jab. "Tactics at Mid-Acolyte level... where did you pick that up?""Uh, video games?" you mutted with some embarassment. "I used to work at an, uh, arcade."A snort escaped her lips. Glancing at the Technical section, her surprise deepened. "Early Candidate level in Logis and Lex-Geometrics? Wow. The answers are right, but the methods to get to them - yeah, that's hurting your score... How'd you get this level?""I uh. I fixed stuff on my own. At the arcade. Figured them out on my own. I also, like, uh. I like to think about how to win at games. I did a lot of numbers on my own.""Right." Seflejo chuckled, almost not believing it.---
You trailed behind Seflejo, her brisk steps echoing in the sterile hallways, eeriely reminiscent of the ones you've found in the casinos. Classrooms buzzed with activity, glimpses revealing students in uniforms similar to hers. You couldn't help but notice the abundance of striking figures, particularly among the female students. Of many, their developing figures boasted impossible curves, some bordering on caricature - just like you'd seen on the streets. And their facial beauty, like the Instructor's, was undeniable.But a disquieting trend emerged as you passed older students. Suddenly, most were entirely flat, almost androgynous. Just like Seflejo.The hallways themselves echoed with the uniform symphony of the local Vassio accent. Every greeting, every snatch of conversation - a Romance, melodic lilt that felt at odds with the multiculturality alluded in the glossy pamphlets outside.---Back at the school lobby, Seflejo tapped the stack of papers, a frown creasing her brow. "Dormitories," she muttered, more to herself than you. "I assume you got a place to stay here in Vassioport, right?""Yes, Instructor." you admitted. "A hotel.""Good. I've got to go meet up with the others now, wait for me here. We'll see how to... accommodate you. Might take a while.""Sure, of course, Instructor."---
* You may now draw cards (>>5943408). Votes for what action to take come after that, as usual *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Rolled 83 (1d100)>>5951604>"Can I trust Instructor Seflejo to have my best interests in mind?"
>>5951646That makes sense. She's a Schola Instructor and we're an unknown psyker with mild heretek tendencies.
>>5951604IS THE CREEPY LIBRARY MAN IN LOVE WITH US?
Rolled 80 (1d100)Wow my IP keeps going mad>>5951675hehe forgot to roll hehe
Rolled 1 (1d100)>>5951604>will we get a room at the schola soon?
Rolled 42 (1d100)> Are there multiple major groups of different Enemies of the Emperor active on this world?Can't believe forgot to check for this earlier. Enemies just as easily refer to multiple groups as it could just be to one group of five of them.
Rolled 27 (1d100)>>5951604>Is the food free here?
Rolled 39 (1d100)>>5951604>if I focused on my improving my Technical skills in the short term, would I see noticable results?
Rolled 15 (1d100)>>5951604Is it possible for us to further improve our 'psychic dexterity'?
>>5951604>Will Instructor Seflejo’s bust have a growth spurt overnight?
Rolled 11 (1d100)>>5951902Missed this
Rolled 6 (1d100)>>5951604>Can I impregnant Aleta?
>>5951945fellas
>>5951945>Slaanesh's holy number>>5951948Anon we MUST NOT
Rolled 89 (1d100)>>5951604Will I be able to legally earn credits here?
>>5951646>"Can I trust Instructor Seflejo to have my best interests in mind?"[WEAK NO]>>5951675>IS THE CREEPY LIBRARY MAN IN LOVE WITH US?[WEAK NO]>>5951801>will we get a room at the schola soon?[EXTREME YES]>>5951871> Are there multiple major groups of different Enemies of the Emperor active on this world?[UNCERTAIN]>>5951875>Is the food free here?[WEAK YES]>>5951883>if I focused on my improving my Technical skills in the short term, would I see noticable results?[WEAK YES]>>5951899>Is it possible for us to further improve our 'psychic dexterity'?Responding ex cathedra because it's something about your personal abilities/strengths/etc. The answer is [YES]. Which you also coincidentially rolled.>>5951902>Will Instructor Seflejo’s bust have a growth spurt overnight?[YES]>>5951945>Can I impregnant Aleta?[YES]>>5952038>Will I be able to legally earn credits here?[NO]---A wry chuckle escaped Seflejo as she reappeared in the lobby. "Well, Anon, seems you've drawn the lucky straw. We got you a...dormitory, of sorts. One of the VIP suites, actually." Her voice held a hint of nervous amusement. "Normally reserved for dignitaries, not... students. But we can't really slot you anywhere else, and the higher-ups would rather keep you somewhere safe than Emperor-knows-where."You couldn't help but mirror her chuckle, laced with a hint of suspicion. "Is it free?"Seflejo smirked. "Free and huge. Trust me, you'll love it." With a beckoning gesture, she urged you forward.---The former casino echoed with your footsteps as you navigated the labyrinthine halls. Finally, you reached a double doorway that gleamed with solid gold. A plaque proclaimed "VIP Suites" in High Gothic. Just as Seflejo reached for the handle, two students appeared from behind the door. Their military uniforms, meant for function, strained against their impossibly curvaceous figures. Yet, their eyes held a haunting emptiness. They offered Seflejo a curt nod before departing, their movements practiced and emotionless.The Instructor's hand on your shoulder felt a touch too firm. "Diligent young ladies, aren't they, Anon?" she murmured, a smile that didn't quite reach her eyes twisting her lips. "Doing their part for the Imperium."You push through more sterile corridors, the silence broken only by the echo of your footsteps. Finally, you reach your destination. A massive, opulent room unfolds before you, dominated by a king-sized bed fit for a Rogue Trader.Seflejo beams. "All yours, complete with a private bathing chamber." She points to a door. "Use the comm unit to call the maid when the sheets need changing. Food's on room service too, but that's, well. Maybe outside of your budget. Just dial 01."She pointed behind herself with a thumb. "...The cafeteria is quite a while away but there's breakfast, lunch and dinner for the students. At 6, 12, then 6. For free."
"Thanks." you hesitated, the words sticking in your throat. "All of this, for me?"She gave you another nervous, but amused smile. "Yep. Enjoy it, Anon. Here's your key, and there's your uniform."* VIP Suite Key Acquired ** Vassioport Schola Uniform Acquired *---Aleta shuffled in, loomed in the center of the room, waiting patiently as usual. You perched on the edge of the absurdly large bed, the plush velvet sinking beneath you. A gilded menu lay open on a nearby table, its archaic, elegant script listing gourmet meals priced in the hundreds, vintage wines reaching into the thousands.You kept flipping through the pages. Dessert wasn't the end. A new section replaced the food descriptions. Students. Not meals. Each entry bore a credit value per hour in the tens of thousands, a brief personality sketch, body measurements, and a face. A student's face.---Your (golden) vox-comm phone called you with a reminder about "Basic Weaponry" class that would be after breakfast, at 6:30 - that was in just about an hour. When the mess hall doors groaned open at dawn, you joined the shuffling line of students. They eyed you with a mix of curiosity and suspicion, whispers flitting around about you being a "VIP." The massive, opulent cafeteria seemed staffed entirely by students themselves.Your tray was slapped down with a clatter – a plate of unidentified, steaming, yellow and white blobs, a long, floppy strip of something vaguely leather-like, and a glass filled with a suspiciously orange, cloudly fluid. Nothing like the uniform, homogeneous pastes you were used to back home in your Hive."What's this?" the question tumbled out of you.The server, a skinny kid with worried eyes, blinked. "...Eggs, bacon... orange juice, sir?" He spoke as if you were daft. You nodded back.You navigated the sea of eagerly chatting students as you passed tables, your eyes glued to how they ate this alien meal. Apparently, they just... shoved the whole lot in their mouths?* Your tarot is cold *What do you do?> Sit somewhere alone and try to smuggle some of this food out of here for Aleta.> Try to join a group of receptive Astra Militarum students and introduce yourself.> Try to join a group of receptive Administratum students and introduce yourself.> Try to join a group of receptive Tech-Priest students and introduce yourself.> Try to join a group of receptive Ecclesiastical students and introduce yourself.> Try to join a group of weird, outcast students and introduce yourself.> Write in
>>5952116>> Sit somewhere alone and try to smuggle some of this food out of here for Aleta.Yeah, sit alone like the autistic sperg you are.
>>5952116> Sit somewhere alone and try to smuggle some of this food out of here for Aleta.
>>5952116> Try to join a group of receptive Tech-Priest students and introduce yourself.Our scores lean towards tech, maybe we pick something up or get a cog buddy that’ll help with servitor maintenance and repair
>>5952116> Try to join a group of receptive Tech-Priest students and introduce yourself.
>>5952116>Try to join a group of receptive Tech-Priest students and introduce yourself.If we 100% rely on the Tarot, we'll be dead in the water if we lose it. Best to get our own skillset under us. I'm kind of spooked about this VIP suite. I think they want to keep us under lock and key for our psychic abilities. Our level of divination is vastly more useful than raw pyrokinesis, and if we know how to use it, dangerous. In the end, we can only trust ourselves and the heart of the cards.
> Try to join a group of receptive Tech-Priest students and introduce yourself.> Try to join a group of weird, outcast students and introduce yourself.Do this second if the Tech-Priest students fail.
> Try to join a group of receptive Tech-Priest students and introduce yourself.The clatter of the Schola's cafeteria faded as you navigated the maze of tables. Nervous glances from younger students followed your every move, while the older ones subtly gossiped with a practiced stoicism. Finally, you reached a group of three Tech-Priests-to-be, all clad in crimson robes. Unlike most of the others, their gazes held a spark of genuine curiosity. You set your tray on the edge of their table."Hey, I'm Anon," you offered, hoping they wouldn't mind the interruption. "New student, here. Any chance I could join you guys?"A soft smile played on the lips of the one with meticulously pressed robes. "Sure. Sesus here, and these two chuckleheads are Jamarco and Zaniel." He gestured towards the others, one of whom scoffed and muttered something about "looking too poor to be a VIP" under his breath.Jamarco, the one with the scoff and a skeptical glint in his eyes, leaned back in his chair. "Alé, 'VIP'. What brings someone like to you to the Schola?"Ignoring the jab, you explained with a shrug. "Church orders. I'm, uh. Special. I have no idea why they put me in the VIP section."Jamarco barked a laugh. "Called it!" he crowed, bumping fists with Zaniel. "You owe me your bacon now, 'Ses.""So, where are you from?" Sesus asked leaning in with a friendly smile, ignoring the other's demand."Xan IV, on Tarass. A Hive world" you admitted. "Nothing like this place."They exchanged glances, a mixture of surprise and intrigue flickering between them. After some further small talk, you learned that they hailed from the elite of Vassioport itself, their families coming from a mix of the local Zlatino Tech-Guild and the stakeholders of the casinos.---Lasguns, flamers, bolters... the instructor's voice droned on in your Basic Weaponry class after breakfast time. You, a hive rat through and through, slouched in the back. Wide-eyed children stole curious glances at you. As the presentation went on, you had never seen guns *this* fancy, not in the underhive. Even if you had, you weren't the kind of rookie to waste your time with them.Someone snatch your hoverboard? Let it go. Someone insult your momma? Act like it never happened. Things getting hot? You vanish.Down in the sump, the smart hivers ran. The dead ones didn't.And once class ended, Slefejo called you over. Someone wanted to meet you in the VIP area.---
White and gold robes, far richer than his usual austere garb, draped Deacon Benedict's form as he lounged in a plush VIP lobby chair. Yet another gorgeous student in uniform, barely an adult, nervously refilled his ornate glass with ruby-red wine."Ah, and another for Anon," Benedict gestured towards you as you arrived, his tone dripping with practiced charm. "Anon! School treating you well, son?"Relief washed over you, "Father! You're alive! The bomber-!..."Benedict waved a dismissive hand. "A touch singed, but the Emperor protects! Others... not so fortunate. Pray for their souls, won't you? When you have a moment, of course. Busy with studies, I presume?""...Yup, Father," you replied, "And, uh. How are my... barrels?"A ghost of a smile played on the Deacon's lips. "Rest assured, your... barrels are safe. Now, my dear," he addressed the student, "perhaps you could give us a moment? Be in my quarters in half an hour, yes?"The student scurried away, clutching the empty wine bottle like a talisman.Benedict swirled the wine in his glass, offering it towards you. "Larin red, from my homeworld. Try it."You took the glass awkwardly, clutching the stem like a weapon, and managed a small sip. "Tastes... good.""...There's a reason I'm here, Anon," Benedict leaned forward, his voice dropping to a conspiratorial whisper. "The Godlight, terrorists. Fanatics, heretics. Yesterday's bomber was theirs. And I believe in your talents. The Imperium needs you now. The Tarot, can it tell you anything about the Godlight? Are the students in danger? Others? Any insights you have would be very appreciated.""Maybe," you replied, weighed by the expectations. "So, like... who are the Godlight? Why are they after the school? I saw 'Mutants' painted outside in the morning."Benedict scoffed. "Extremists. Heretics who think themselves above the Emperor! They call the Glitterglobe natives mutants – those faces, those figures... all heretical genesmithing, they claim. Lies, of course. Pure slander. Their bloodline stretches back to the first colonists, those who joined the Emperor's Great Uniting. He didn't purge them then, so why now?" He shook his head, exasperation clear. "Generations fighting this 'mutant' paranoia.""I'll see what I can do." you nodded, then started to draw from the tarot as you silently, mentally, mumbled questions, starting with something basic."Is the information that the Deacon has just given me entirely correct?"[NO]Well, fine. He might've made some mistakes. But, those looks, could it be..? Please be pure. Please! C'mooooooon!"Are the Glitterglobe natives mutants?"[YES]Fuck!
The Deacon's concerned voice broke the silence, he couldn't hear the psychic voices of the deck like you could, nor your mental questions. "Everything alright?""Just clarifying a few details," you mumbled, forcing a calmness you didn't feel. Your fingers tightened around the deck as you drew another card."Is the main cause for the mutant impurity of the Glitterglobe natives, genesmithing?"[YES]Fuck.---* You may now draw cards (>>5943408). Votes for what action to take (such as what to tell Deacon Benedict) come after that. *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Rolled 48 (1d100)>>5952455>Would it be prudent to tell the truth about the information we've just divined to the Deacon?
Rolled 88 (1d100)>>5952455>"Will I suffer personal consequences if I play along for now?"
>>5952487Looks like we're lying to the Deacon. I suspect there's some mild Slaaneshi influence underpinning Glitterglobe and the Godlight are honest devotees of the Emperor.
Rolled 58 (1d100)>>5952455>Are the Glitterglobe enemies to the emperor?
>>5952455>Is the Godlight group/cult enemy of the emperor?
Rolled 8 (1d100)>>5952570Forgot to roll
Rolled 39 (1d100)>>5952571>>5952570The terrorists are terrorists. Most likely means that the natives, despite dabbling in genesmithing, are not heretics.
Rolled 21 (1d100)> Is the toy that we found that represents the Enemies of the Emperor related to this group, or i it representative of a different group?Let's see if we can confirm if they are Genestealers or the Genestealers are different.
>>5952602Hmm...interesting.Brief rundown of the fuckery I pulled here with this one: To an either/or question, it can also be treated as a different binary of whether or not both are valid options or not. A [YES] would have meant both options are equally valid and [NO] indicates that at least one of them are wrong. [WEAK YES] would therefore mean that both options are valid, but the four-armed doll is more indicative of one of the cults over the other. Meaning that both can create or summon a four-armed individual, but one has it incidental rather than it being a main factor.Ergo, there are likely a Slaaneshi cult and a Genestealer cult active on this planet. The former being the incidental type because a Keeper of Secrets has four arms but Slaanesh doesn't do too much specifically with four arms besides them, whereas the Genestealers specifically hone in on the Four-Armed Emperor and such things.
>>5952455>Can we trust the Deacon to not betray us?
Rolled 5 (1d100)>>5952617Forgot to roll
Rolled 61 (1d100)>>5952455Do the Glitterglobe natives have some sort of mutation that would be beneficial to the Imperium?
Rolled 1 (1d100)>>5952650>>5952455Is a major reason that their mutations won't be beneficial to the Imperium that them being too superior to a baseline human will cause excessive social unrest
>>5952688Well damn, looks like we’ve got ourselves an answer as too wether or not their just good or bad mutations. Though, yeah being declared as a mutant is going to set off all sorts of problems, so maybe we should just not mention that part out loud.
>>5952688Oh.Oh my.That is...certainly a roll.What have you wrought anon?
Rolled 36 (1d100)>>5952455> Will these Godlight Terrorists inflict physical or spiritual harm onto the Scholae's student body?
>>5952455>would the glitterglobe natives like me and my psychic power?
Rolled 2 (1d100)>>5952758Oops
>>5952760>>5952688
>>5952760Yeeeeah, I'm certain.In the same way a prisoner likes a rasp.I'd like to highlight the fact that this terrorist faction is likely a genestealer cult. Unless we want to end up as brainwashed chow for a hive fleet, conventional wisdom says that getting chummy with them is extremely inadvisable.
>>5952782the natives aren't the terrorist group.
>>5952783Hum. I see.I misread the passage.
Wr
Summary:>>5952459>Would it be prudent to tell the truth about the information we've just divined to the Deacon?[UNCERTAIN]>>5952487>"Will I suffer personal consequences if I play along for now?"[NO]>>5952542>Are the Glitterglobe enemies to the emperor?[UNCERTAIN]>>5952570>Is the Godlight group/cult enemy of the emperor?[YES]>>5952602> Is the toy that we found that represents the Enemies of the Emperor related to this group, or i it representative of a different group?The wording is a bit wonky but I assume you mean "is (a OR b) true?" here, or equivalently "is at least one statement of the set [a, b] true?[WEAK YES]>>5952617>Can we trust the Deacon to not betray us?[YES]>>5952650Do the Glitterglobe natives have some sort of mutation that would be beneficial to the Imperium?[WEAK NO]>>5952688Is a major reason that their mutations won't be beneficial to the Imperium that them being too superior to a baseline human will cause excessive social unrest[EXTREME YES]>>5952750> Will these Godlight Terrorists inflict physical or spiritual harm onto the Scholae's student body?[WEAK YES]>>5952758>would the glitterglobe natives like me and my psychic power?[EXTREME YES]---You reached for another card, but as your hand hovered, the energy between you and the deck suddenly vanished. The tarot had gone cold.Benedict raised an eyebrow, with a touch of concern. "Everything alright?"You managed a weak "yeah," but his gaze lingered, waiting for more.What should you tell him?---> Pretend to have failed your tarot-drawing entirely, and that you have no information for now.> Play along his beliefs, and mention that Godlight may inflict some kind of physical or spiritual harm to the students soon.> Tell him about the existence of some "Four-armed Enemies of the Emperor" that are around, and their possible relation to the Godlight. Also mention that the Godlight may inflict some kind of physical or spiritual harm to the students soon.> Be honest, and tell him everything you know that's relevant to the case: the Glitterglobe natives are actually genesmithed mutants, Godlight might have some connection to... some "Enemies of the Emperor" that are around here, represented by a four-armed toy you found earlier; and Godlight will harm in some way soon.> Write in
>>5952862> Tell him about the existence of some "Four-armed Enemies of the Emperor" that are around, and their possible relation to the Godlight. Also mention that the Godlight may inflict some kind of physical or spiritual harm to the students soonMostly true
>>5952862>> Tell him about the existence of some "Four-armed Enemies of the Emperor" that are around, and their possible relation to the Godlight. Also mention that the Godlight may inflict some kind of physical or spiritual harm to the students soon.It doesn't really matter if they're genesmithed mutants or not, the Emperor didn't purge them.
>>5952862> Be honest, and tell him everything you know that's relevant to the case: the Glitterglobe natives are actually genesmithed mutants, Godlight might have some connection to... some "Enemies of the Emperor" that are around here, represented by a four-armed toy you found earlier; and Godlight will harm the Scholae in some way soon.
>>5952862> Tell him about the existence of some "Four-armed Enemies of the Emperor" that are around, and their possible relation to the Godlight. Also mention that the Godlight may inflict some kind of physical or spiritual harm to the students soon.
> Tell him about the existence of some "Four-armed Enemies of the Emperor" that are around, and their possible relation to the Godlight. Also mention that the Godlight may inflict some kind of physical or spiritual harm to the students soon.
>>5952862>Tell him about the existence of some "Four-armed Enemies of the Emperor" that are around, and their possible relation to the Godlight. Also mention that the Godlight may inflict some kind of physical or spiritual harm to the students soon.Genestealers need to G-O
Just a heads up that the next update will likely land in about 12-14 hours from now.It's been aprox a week and a half since we started, and I'm curious to hear your thoughts.How's the experience so far? How do you feel about the Tarot mechanics?
>>5953128it's cool I got most good rolls, and I hope to see some intense moments hopefully the MC gets some love.
>>5953128>Just a heads up that the next update will likely land in about 12-14 hours from now.Don't worry QM take your time.>How's the experience so far? How do you feel about the Tarot mechanics?I like it. It's a simple concept but this quest has been very entertaining so far.
>>5953128I feel like Anon has had a good amount of characterization and the initial worry I had of coomerism was unfounded. The Tarot mechanics are interesting and I like it a lot, particularly how fluid and dynamic they've rendered our situation. Some edge cases have been fun as well, like my roll for the servitor's consciousness and another (lowercase-a) anon's anti-explosive enfattening of her. The writing in particular is good and some of the AI art is questionable at a closer look, but it's worked very well to evoke the feel I think you've been going for with it. This is an original, high-quality quest and I'm eager to see where it goes in the future.
>>5953128I like the way the mechanics work mean that everyone tries to word their questions well to avoid something that can definitively lock themselves into a bad end.
>>5952862>The wording is a bit wonky but I assume you mean "is (a OR b) true?" here, or equivalently "is at least one statement of the set [a, b] true?I probably should have phrased it better, but at that second I was in a bit of a rush at the time (as you can see from my fuckup of "is".The intended form was as I mentioned in >>5952610 . But to explain it better, I was trying to make my question an XNOR gate like in Pic related that is modified by >Prior roll results take precedence over later roll resultsand the roll of [YES] on Enemies of the Emperor so the [False, False] = True was an impossible result. Thus, the Doll could only be related to only the Godlight group or only to a different group (A [NO] result), or it could potentially be related to at least two separate groups (A [YES] Result).This overall telling if Enemies in Enemies of the Emperor referred to multiple individuals organized under one banner against the Emperor, or Enemies referred to multiple separate organized groups.As I said, I pulled some FUCKERY with that roll.
> Tell him about the existence of some "Four-armed Enemies of the Emperor" that are around, and their possible relation to the Godlight. Also mention that the Godlight may inflict some kind of physical or spiritual harm to the students soon."Father," you began, "I've got information on the Godlight and... some 'Four-armed Enemies of the Emperor.'"His brow furrowed, amusement flickering in his eyes for a brief moment. "The what now?" he chuckled, a hint of disbelief in his tone.You pressed on. "These 'Enemies' are said to be connected to the Godlight somehow, or not. It's hazy." you explained, laying out the information the Tarot provided. "Four-armed people, that's all I got. It's... not entirely clear, but I felt you should know, father."The Deacon's expression turned serious. "That's... certainly a new one on me." He stroked his chin thoughtfully."There's more," you continued, your voice dropping to a low whisper. "The Godlight might be planning to harm the students soon. Physical harm, or something... spiritual. The Tarot wasn't clear, but it wasn't a complete 'no' that it wouldn't happen. More like a... 'yes- but!', or something."Deacon Benedict nodded slowly, the weight of your words settling on him. "Thank you, Anon," he said, his voice grave. "If your readings are true, then this seems serious. I'll report this immediately. Be careful out there, and take care of yourself.""Anytime, father.""One last thing, Anon," he paused at the doorway, his hand resting on the knob. "What the tarot tells you... keep it only to yourself and Imperial staff. And keep note of who you tell what, too. It's very important.""...Of course."---"Glitterglobe History,", your next two classes, the words droned on from the front of the room. You fought the urge to let your eyelids flutter shut. Profunda, the capital city of the Glitterglobe, the God-Emperor's purge of the sinners on the surface and how, in His infallible wisdom and generousity, the righteous Glitterkin people underground were spared... it all blurred together into a monotonous hum.You almost skipped lunch and dinner. Instructor Seflejo used those precious breaks to bombard you with an avalanche of supplies to carry off to your room: books, pens, paper, rulers, the list went on.* Study supplies acquired ** Study books acquired *Exhausted but relieved, you finally reached the end of your classes after a few hours of spending time with older students in "Administratum Procedures" and "Geometrics". Students were then free for the rest of the day - some would head outside for sparring, others would choose to exercise or study on their own. You opted for the privacy of your room.---
Suddenly, your room's door was knocked on. "Anon, could I ask you a quick favor?" Instructor Seflejo's voice called out cheerfully."Uh, sure, sure," you mumbled, scrambling out of bed.Seflejo burst in with a grin, depositing a stack of books and magazines on your desk. The covers featured impossibly muscled men and caricaturesque women clad in barely-there clothing. You blinked in surprise."Someone's smuggling these in," she explained. "Can your psyker powers sniff out where they came from?""Uh, maybe," you said, picking them up. These were familiar! - "Giga Globes of Glitter," "Glitterbabes." This was the kind of stuff you used to devour back home! The women were impossibly gorgeous, ridiculous curves, the good shit. There were even a few featuring Navigators and Astropaths, which you found odd, but hey, whatever.Flipping through some of the "romance" novels, clearly meant for young women, you finally noticed a strange trend for all of the material here. All the love interests and pinups weren't entirely human - psykers, Adeptus Astartes, Navigators, other Glitterpeople. There was even a novel (just one, among dozens) about an Ogryn prince charming too, hilariously. "Do you have any information, clues, Instructor?" you asked, flipping through a novel. "These are all a little... Weird, aren't they?""Weird?" Seflejo tilted her head, genuinely confused. "Weird how?""Well, they all feature, uh, not exactly regular people," you stammered."Yeah, why wouldn't they?" she chuckled, as if explaining something obvious."Doesn't it seem a little... specific?" you ventured, remembering how back home, these kinds of things were niche at best.Seflejo's smile widened. "Specific? No way! 'Uberhumans' are super sexy, right?" she said, assuming you shared her taste.You stumbled a bit. "Uberhuman? I mean, yeah, I guess they can be attractive, but this much focus on it?"This line hangs in the air, leaving Seflejo slightly bewildered. "So, any chance you can use your psyker powers to sniff something out?" Seflejo asked, her voice still bright despite the unexpected hurdle."Not right now, it takes a bit for me to, uh. 'Recharge'," you tell her. "Maybe later?"Seflejo's smile dimmed slightly, but she remained cheerful. "Oh. Well, let me know when you're good to go, alright?" She scooped up the stack of books and magazines. "Thanks anyway, Anon!"You returned the gesture with a nod. "No problem, Instructor."
---You were flopped onto your bed, eyeing the new books with a mixture of trepidation and curiosity before going to sleep.Suddenly , a series of muffled thumps came from your door. Intrigued, you pushed yourself up and cautiously approached - then a muffled giggle echoed down the hallway, followed by the sound of retreating footsteps. Reaching the door, you peered down. Wedged beneath the gap was a pile of different envelopes, each adorned with a varied assortment of brightly colored heart stickers and other saccharine decorations.Love letters? For *you*? *You*, of all people? And this... this *soon*? What?Was it a prank? Some kind of attack? Your tarot was warm and ready to go."Are these honest love letters with no traps, no tricks, no danger to them?"[YES]Despite the result, it was still very hard for you to believe.---* You may now draw cards (>>5943408). *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Rolled 95 (1d100)>>5953719> Did Instructor Seflejo want to observe us using our divinatory abilities for a reason other than finding the owners of those pornographic magazines?
I am scared to roll for:>"Am I a prodigy in sexual intercourse, will I be capable of the same feats as some of the most masculine and God emperor-gifted men of his holy empire?"
>>5953723or what ever is equivalent to saying something a long the lines of. "Do I have Hentai powers?"
Rolled 28 (1d100)>>5953719>Is developing a harem at the schola better for my wellbeing than a monogamous relationship or no relationship at all
Rolled 36 (1d100)>>5953719>Is the person who left the love letters the same person that's been smuggling in the smut shown to me by Instructor Seflejo?
>>5953727one of many?
>>5953723From >>5950807 ,>As mentioned before, I don't allow you to Schrodinger yourself new abilities, but you are indeed allowed to ask these questions and I will respond ex cathedra You're allowed to make that question, but it's me who is going to answer it instead of my co-QM.
Rolled 69 (1d100)>>5953719>those love letters came from someone in the Schola staff?
>>5953760If I get a yes, and I roll a yes will that make him a hentai netori antagonist?
Rolled 29 (1d100)>Am I going to be put in a situation where I need to save someone's life today?
Rolled 100 (1d100)>>5953719>Should i try to get a gun for self defense?
>>5953837Oh boy
Rolled 84 (1d100)>>5953719>Is the Schola in imminent danger?
Rolled 28 (1d100)>>5953719>Will danger approach from north of my current location?
>>5953760Can I role for that question? Please say yes!
>>5954045I already answered that question for you.Besides your psyker abilities, you're just a hiver nerd who is good at hiver things, and nerd things.
Rolled 1 (1d100)>>5953719Will the tech-priest group support my education?
>>5954382now with more nerd things, nice nice nice.
Rolled 95 (1d100)>>5954401tech bros are great. we're gonna be the best of friends!>>5954382>Are there any living loyalist space marines on this planet?
>>5954412Aw fuck he was a traitor then?
>>5954443Either he died recently, he was astral projection, or he could be in space. He could also be a traitor or renegade.
>>5954412>>5954448It seems like he teleported away, so if the SM is onship, he's off-planet.
>>5954451Just an alpha legion doing alpharius things
A fitful sleep, punctuated by stolen glances at the anonymous love letters you scattered around your bed, left you feeling both flattered and unnerved. Each one, in a different, eager handwriting, gushed over how much of a dream you were, how they'd love your touch, how perfect you were... What? With a sigh, you shoved them aside and trudged into the halls past the golden VIP door. But suddenly, you heard a muffled thump, followed by frantic, muffled pleas. Rounding a corner, you saw it-Seflejo, her face etched with grim determination, wrestled a young student, to the floor. He was impossibly beautiful, even in his terror, his pleas echoing off the sterile walls. "Anon!" she barked, "Help me out here!"Your body reacted before your mind could catch up. Years of ingrained Imperial obedience propelled you forward, and you put your weight over the boy.Seflejo worked with practiced swiftness. A high-tech restraint produced from her belt, humming faintly with power, snaked around the boy's limbs and body in a matter of seconds. Her next actions unfolded with efficiency - a flintlock camera captured the scene in a flash; neat, precise handwriting filled a small book as she documented the incident."Please!" The boy's voice cracked, his eyes wide with terror. "I just wanted to practice! Practice! For the Emperor!"Seflejo produced a pistol, the weight of it heavy in her hand, and pointed it at the boy's head. She began chanting a prayer in a low monotone, each word a hammer blow against his hope."From the lightning and the tempest, Our Emperor, deliver us..."A cold knot formed in your stomach. Every fiber of your being screamed at you to intervene, but the ironclad grip of authority and fear kept you rooted to the spot."From plague, deceit, temptation and war, Our Emperor, deliver us..."The boy's voice rose to a desperate shriek. "Seflejo, please! Anon, help me, please! Please! Anon! ANON!""From the blasphemy of the Fallen, Our Emperor, deliver us."The finality in her voice brooked no argument. A single, deafening crack echoed through the hallway. You flinched, the boy's body twitching once before going still.After a long silence, "...Why, Seflejo?" your voice rasped, barely audible.Seflejo straightened, her face a mask of grim duty. "Rule 238," she intoned, her voice devoid of emotion. "Student in unauthorized possession of lethal weaponry on Schola grounds. Penalty: Death. It's in the handbook I gave you."You hadn't even glanced at it, too overwhelmed by the sheer amount of books she had dumped on you."I understand..." you started, your voice thick. Then it died in your throat. "I know it's hard," Seflejo acknowledged, her eyes glinting with a mix of sorrow and resolve. "But imagine a grenade going off in the dorms. Or some kid fucks around with a lasgun catalyzer too much. They're *children*, Anon. We can't have them running around with this stuff."
"...Does the VIP section count as Schola grounds?" you hestitated to ask. What of Aleta? She had a gun in her!"No."---You trudged out of Basic Weaponry, yet another mind-numbing session of reciting the names of guns and stuff with eight-year-olds. But at least it was over now, and you got to the cafeteria.As you neared its double-doors, the familiar murmur morphed into something altogether different - a cacophony of breathless whispers and barely-contained squeals. You discreetly tried to sneak in, but suddenly, another door in the cafeteria burst open with a bang that rattled the serving trays. You saw a monstrously obese Drill Abbot that stood framed in the other doorway, his eyes, wide and bulging, seemed to scan the room like a heat seeker."SHUT THE *FUCK* UP YOU HORNY SLUTS." he roared, his voice a gravel avalanche. "KEEP YER FILTHLY FINGERS *OVER* THE TABLE AND YER FUCKING EYES *ON* YOUR FUCKING MEAL."The room went dead quiet. Eyes darted away from you in a flurry of panicked glances. The Abbot scanned the scene, his chest heaving like a malfunctioning furnace."Much better," he wheezed, his voice dropping to a guttural growl. "Now, psyker guy" he added, a sly glint in his eye. "Eat up. Yer in for some real big fun today. Yer all 'recharged', yeah?""Uh, yes, sir." you nervously muttered, feeling that your deck was pleasantly warm again.You sat with the usual trio of Tech-Priest students, and ate breakfast in total silence, but before you left, one of them zipped into your pocket a paper note with the following:"Got you hooked up with Zlatino if you want to do your Candidate-level internship there, but you owe me your dessert if you take it :D."---
After breakfast, Instructor Seflejo lead you through sterile halls, the institutional white punctuated only by the occasional bulletin board. A single poster caught your eye - a brightly colored announcement for a Space Marine recruitment conference, now abruptly covered by a stark "CANCELLED" sign.Reaching the gymnasium, Seflejo bypassed the main entrance and led you to a side door. A metallic creak echoed as it swung open, revealing a cluttered storage room. Guns, some real, others clearly training replicas, lined the walls alongside racks of foam chainswords and plastic grenades bulging with paint."So, we know how good you are with theory..." she said, her voice clipped, "but combat is the other half of any good Imperial education! We need to know how good you are with that." She gestured towards a long table laden with training weapons - pistols, chunky shotguns, blades... "Choose two weapons, Anon. You're going up against another student, in room 3. It's like, the size of a hoopball court, it's got a bunch of wooden boxes in there too, of different sizes, obstacles y'know - and no peeking though. You gotta be ready for anything the Emperor throws your way." A sly smirk played on her lips. "And you're not allowed to use your tarot to pick your weapons either. But! Once inside, you can use it all you want."Finally, she gestured towards a nearby rack of padded training armor with adaptable holsters straps on each hip and the back for your weapons. "Gear up, alé! Remember, bigger weapon, bigger damage. First one to get 'kill' on their opponent wins, and I'll be judging from up top. Anon. Good luck!"* 'Hoopball' is a common sport, familiar to Anon, and it's pretty much basketball ** Anon has to personally shuffle the Tarot deck and then draw a card from a properly 'randomized' deck in order to properly divine with it. In order to do this quickly, he needs to use both hands to shuffle. He can shuffle (awkwardly mix) the cards with one hand while they're held in a pocket, but it's hardly as quick. *Pick two. The two individual practice replica weapons with the most votes win. > Chainsword> Knife> Lasgun> Laspistol> Shotgun> Heavy Flamer> Frag Grenade x 2
>>5954572>> Lasgun> Frag Grenade x 2
>>5954572> Laspistol> KnifeStick with what you know.
>>5954574+1
>>5954586+1
>>5954572>> Knife>> LasgunI can imagine being posted up as a sniper, asking the deck "Will I make the shot on (X)?" and going down the line on the enemies we can see to ascertain whether we'll hit or not.
I forgot to put this at the start of this (>>5954570) chain of posts. Posting it now, better late than never.Amended:>>5954412>Are there any living loyalist space marines on this planet?replaced with>Are there any living space marines that are not enemies of the emperor on this planet?You don't know what a "loyalist" is, because that terminology is too academic/obscure for a hiver like you. But the intent of the question is fine, so I'm salvaging it. The rest stays as is.[NO]Summary:>>5953721> Did Instructor Seflejo want to observe us using our divinatory abilities for a reason other than finding the owners of those pornographic magazines?[NO]>>5953725>Is developing a harem at the schola better for my wellbeing than a monogamous relationship or no relationship at all[WEAK YES]>>5953727>Is the person who left the love letters the same person that's been smuggling in the smut shown to me by Instructor Seflejo?[WEAK YES]>>5953761>those love letters came from someone in the Schola staff?[WEAK NO]>>5953812>Am I going to be put in a situation where I need to save someone's life today?[WEAK YES]>>5953837>Should i try to get a gun for self defense?[EXTREME NO]>>5953973>Is the Schola in imminent danger?[NO]>>5953989>Will danger approach from north of my current location?[WEAK YES]>>5954401>Will the tech-priest group support my education?[EXTREME YES]
>>5954645oh I get it someone was going to try and kill him.
>Knife>LasgunYou heft the foam knife, its weight surprisingly convincing. Slipping it onto your hip, you sling the replica lasgun across your shoulder. Never actually fired one, but you figure pulling the trigger does the trick, right? Aiming with amateur awkwardness at a dummy in the storage room, you squeeze. A satisfying hiss fills the air as a thin, pressurized beam of paint shoots from the lasgun's nozzle. The knife feels different in your hand - a familiar heft you cradle with a surprising confidence. You had practiced shanking the air several times back home in the hive, but you had never actually gotten into a real fight with one.Emerging from the storage room, you nudge the door closed with your elbow, tarot deck clutched in both hands as you shuffle frantically. The combat hall hits you - vast, neoclassical, with towering stacks of wooden crates lining two straight walls of uneven height, the lowest parts barely covering your knees, the highest parts reaching about twice as tall than you stood. One of the walls ran right across in front of you, the other was parallel to it, presumably covering another entrance just like yours."Anon has entered! Stand in your red circles..." booms Instructor Seflejo's voice from a hidden vox-caster. There was a circle right next to the door, you sidestepped into it. "Combat begins... NOW!"
>>5954574Supporting.>>5954627 has the right idea. More RNG is good though, so I'm throwing in grenades since we can work with them the same way. Draw cards, throw nades whichever places we get a good return on. It's like rolling dices but only taking the good rolls, really!
* You may now draw cards (>>5943408). *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Rolled 29 (1d100)>>5954741>Should i flank him?
>>5954741>Is running straight to him a good idea?
Rolled 27 (1d100)>>5954749I just realized that my id keeps changing for some reason
Rolled 8 (1d100)>>5954741Should I just shoot him?I get the suspicion that the other guy might just be... not that good in a fight.
>>5954762forgot the >, does that still count?
>>5954763Yeah it's fine
Rolled 44 (1d100)>>5954741>Should I throw my knife at his head?
>>5954741>Will aiming above the target help my aim?
Rolled 13 (1d100)>>5954833>Will aiming above the target help my accuracy*?and roll, damn.
Rolled 19 (1d100)>>5954741> Will holding my breath help me steady my aim?
Rolled 63 (1d100)>>5954741>will grenades help me during this training session
>>5954848Anon we don't have grenades
Rolled 82 (1d100)>>5954741>"Does the other student have any involvement with the Godlight?"
Summary:>>5954743>Should i flank him?[WEAK YES]>>5954753>Is running straight to him a good idea?[WEAK YES]>>5954762>Should I just shoot him?[YES]>>5954770>Should I throw my knife at his head?[UNCERTAIN]>>5954835>Will aiming above the target help my accuracy*?[YES]>>5954839> Will holding my breath help me steady my aim?[YES]>>5954848>will grenades help me during this training session[WEAK NO]>>5954908>"Does the other student have any involvement with the Godlight?"[NO]---After drawing card after card, all of your predictions coalesced into a single, audacious move. With a burst of hiver parkour, you launched yourself over the crates, landing with a silent crouch right behind your opponent. Before he could register your presence, you doused him with a blast of paint, crucially also using the trick to aim a bit higher as you held your breath to land enough paint for victory."ANON WINS!" Seflejo's voice boomed from the upper vox.The impeccably dressed student spun around, wide-eyed. "I... what? -Damn. Alright then." A slow realization dawned on him, followed by a sly chuckle. "I think I've got to try something else then.""RETURN TO YOUR CIRCLES FOR ROUND TWO--!" Seflejo's voice boomed with a hint of apology.You stammered, caught off guard. "Round two? But I just...""Testing your combat abilities appropriately while you have those predictive powers is... troublesome, sorry! We had to keep it a surprise!" Seflejo boomed. "Get ready now!"You shuffled the cards again, a knot of worry tightening in your stomach. Maybe you had given away the timing of your divining. Perhaps a single card would be–"Round two... begins NOW!" Seflejo's booming voice cut through your thoughts.You scrambled to form a question, but the world dissolved into a cacophony of sound. A series of cracks echoed – gunfire? Was he already attacking? Panic choked your mind for a brief instant. Then, a thud vibrated through the crates beside you. A split second later, a searing explosion erupted, a grenade showering you in a blinding splatter of paint."FIGALO WINS!" Seflejo's jubilant voice sliced through the ringing in your ears. A smug laugh followed from the student. "That's the money! Takes you a while to do your psyker stuff, doesn't it, Anon?"You slumped back, defeated. "...Yeah," you managed.---
The next three rounds were a paint-splattered blur. Figalo, a whirlwind of movement and well-placed paint shots, took each one with practiced ease. You, on the other hand, were a hapless target. With your tarot deck clutched uselessly, you were either bullrushed before you could divine, or if you decided to just take him head on instead, you were riddled with paint from Figalo's superior gunplay and footwork.Finally, Seflejo, covered in some stray paint splatters herself, entered the combat room. She clapped a hand on each of your shoulders. "Alright you two, that's enough for today. Figalo, good hustle. Anon... buddy, where to begin? Your fundamentals need serious work. Footwork, stance, the whole package. But that deck..." she trailed off, a hint of surprise in her eyes. "Honestly, even with your sloppy technique, you almost pulled off some wins with sheer... what, 'idiot-fu'?""You could say that," you murmured, your gaze flickering back to the deck with a chuckle. "If it works, it works."---
Seflejo steered you away from the lunch queue and towards a secluded corner of the VIP area. There, a Tech-Priest with the classic Zlatino "steel man" modifications awaited, datapad clutched in his hand.The Tech-Priest cleared his still-organic throat. "So, the psyker," he said, his voice laced with apprehension as he flicked through the documents. "Anon, is it?"You offered a simple, "Yeah."He shifted uncomfortably. "Alé, there's no pressure to take this internship, truly. You might be busy with other things, and..." he trailed off, searching for the right words.Seflejo interjected with a confident smile, "We can definitely make time for Anon's internship. It won't be a problem."The Tech-Priest shook his head slightly. "Uhm- It's not about disruption. It's about fit. The work is... demanding. Honestly, I wouldn't want to be a burden. Perhaps another guild would be a better match? A more... Imperial one?"Seflejo rose an eyebrow. "...But Zlatino specifically offered Anon a spot. What changed?"The Tech-Priest sighed. "Alé, I'm just looking out for the lad. My superiors might have their reasons, but I'm the one down in the grease, making things work. It's not a place for someone who just wants a shiny diploma and a pat on the back from the Schola. Don't tell me you want him stuck down there shuffling dataslates with your here, uh... special kids, do you? Zlatino really isn't for internships with this school. You know that.""Special kids?" you mutter.Sleflejo chuckled nervously. "Well, you're special too, Anon, hm?""The final call is yours, Anon," the Tech-Priest rumbled, his gaze fixed on you. "Perhaps another guild sparks your interest? Powerfuel is always looking for new people, or maybe Cogsmith Connect? I can put in a good word for you with the right people. Working alongside other Imperials just like you, now that's a much better fit, I believe."The Tech-Priest, his metallic fingers scraping against the table, slid some printed papers over to you which briefly summarized those internship programs at Powerfuel and Cogsmith Connect.Seflejo leaned forward, a touch too eager. "Anon, Zlatino on your record... it'll open doors! Trust me. Golden opportunity." The Tech-Priest punctuated her words with a deep, weary sigh.You skimmed the papers, the weight of the decision settling in your gut. The Tech-Priest shuffled impatiently, his gaze flickering to the exit."Well," he rumbled, his voice laced with a hint of finality, "if you can't make a choice, perhaps we can revisit this another time. Omnissiah bless-""Hold on," Seflejo interjected, her voice laced with a barely concealed urgency. "We know how... *difficult* your scheduele might sometimes be, hmm? Anon, what are your thoughts? I really recommend making a choice now that he's here."Gah, the tarot was still cold.
What guild/company do you choose for your Schola Tech-Priest internship?> ZlatinoLuxury tech, heavy Glitterglove influence. Prestigious but Glitterglobe-centric and elitist.> PowerfuelPrometheium services (mainly for voidships), heavy mainstream Imperial influence. Many opportunities for interplanetary travel.> Cogsmith ConnectTelecommunications, heavy mainstream Imperial influence. Local planetary company with strong ties to the local government.> None for now, let the Tech-Priest leave.It's probably better to wait for a different opportunity with the help of the tarot.
>>5955225> Powerfuel
>>5955225>ZlatinoBecause it's our ticket to any of the others in the long run
>>5955225>> Zlatino
>>5955225>ZlatinoI say we go Zlatino so we can uncover the truth behind the servitors.
ZLATINO!!!and make sure Anon says he will strive to be the best no matter what!
>>5955366Glitterglobe pilled
>ZlatinoYour knuckles rapped twice on the glass table, "Zlatino. I'm taking the internship with Zlatino, sir. I didn't come all the way here to the Glitterglobe for second best. I'm in."Opportunity. Hot girls. Success. A life unlike anything you'd ever known. That's why you were here."Fine. As you wish. Just don't say I didn't warn you." The Tech-Priest sighed, a hiss of escaping steam from somewhere beneath his robes. "Sign here. Miss Seflejo, the rest of the Schola paperwork is yours."Seflejo leaned closer to you, her voice a conspiratorial whisper. "Good choice."---Later, once the Tech-Priest had left, you turned to Seflejo. "So, why are the students here... special?"She hesitated, then mumbled, "The Schola is for those who would be better suited for a more... Imperial standard of success, yes? Like yourself."Wasn't this school full of Glitterkin? Didn't your tarot say that Glitterkin were far "superior" to normal humans, or something like that? Superiority wasn't a guarantee, it seemed. You raised an eyebrow. "Right." The word hung heavy, laced with unspoken questions.---The next class felt like a lobotomy with paperwork. Details of Imperial bureaucracy swam before your eyes: filing protocols for requisitioning a shoelace, triplicate reports for a missing wire – mind-numbing minutiae that gnawed at your spirit.Dinner was a tense affair, but you snuck Jamarco a genuine smile and a whispered "Thanks" under the Drill Abbot's nose. Zlatino. Tomorrow. Intern. That's what the papers you had signed said. Excitement bubbled, chasing away the day's fatigue. Sleep was crucial, and the promise of a real start had you drifting off with a grateful grin.---Leaving the Schola for the first time in ages, you and Jamarco boarded a levi-bus early in the morning. Excitement crackled in the air as you donned the crimson apprentice robes he gave you - a symbol of your commitment to the Cult Mechanicus. You got an obligatory steel mask and silver bodypaint from him too, a reminder of your obscene organic mass and insufficient devotion to the Machine God (you weren't sold on the whole flesh-is-weak thing, but whatever, those were the rules of the house of the Omnissiah around here. You'd only need them there).* Zlatino apprentice uniform acquired ** Penitent Mask and bodypaint acquired *
The bus rumbled to a stop in Vassioport's industrial district before the imposing Zlatino Holy Workshop 4. Ignoring the crowds and servitors outside, you followed Jamarco through back entrances. Inside, a colossal archeotech machine pulsed with life, glurgling with fluid, serenaded by chanting, rhythmically groaning Tech-Priests tapping away at data slates.https://youtu.be/WdnV4O07USw?si=b957CkkZ2lN6xvNq&t=1906"New apprentice, I presume?" A female-looking Tech-Priest beckoned from the sidelines, her red cam-eyes bouncing between your metal masks. "Both on time, a good start. In ten mins', human maintenance duty, alé – hominis mantainance for the Oilmother's Chosen."You whispered to Jamarco, "What's that?""Carrying their shit and piss and fetching rations," he muttered. "They're there on 54-hour shifts over there, non-stop."The Tech-Priest cleared her throat. "Right. Get ready.""Actually," you interjected, "I'm pretty good with mathematiques and geometry. Maybe I can assist with...""Schola, right?" the Tech-Priest cut you off."...Yeah," you confirmed, a bit deflated.She grunted. "Get ready then."---
* You have some time before your duty starts. You may now draw cards (>>5943408). *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Rolled 89 (1d100)>>5955571>Would cybernetics implants, limbs, or total reconstruction negatively affect our psychic potential?Presuming the yes/no would be for all of them and that Uncertain would affect only some of them.
>>5955595Well that's a welcome surprise!
Rolled 83 (1d100)>>5955571>"Am I going to find anything valuable if I sift through the shit?"
Rolled 10 (1d100)>>5955571>Will Anon find a nice trolley to cart all the shit/piss/rations about?
Rolled 57 (1d100)>>5955571>should i get a deck shuffling bionic implant?
Rolled 60 (1d100)>>5955571>Is this going to be as bad as I think it is?
Rolled 86 (1d100)>>5955571>did I make the right choice when taking this internship?
Rolled 63 (1d100)>>5955571Should I get any implants?
Amended:>>5955595>Would cybernetics implants, limbs, or total reconstruction negatively affect our psychic potential?This is a direct question about your powers/abilities and their nature. As usual, you can make these questions, but I'm going to answer them instead of the co-QM.[WEAK YES]Summary:>>5955664>"Am I going to find anything valuable if I sift through the shit?"[NO]>>5955697>Will Anon find a nice trolley to cart all the shit/piss/rations about?[YES]>>5955748>should i get a deck shuffling bionic implant?[UNCERTAIN]>>5955996>Is this going to be as bad as I think it is?[UNCERTAIN]>>5956007>did I make the right choice when taking this internship?[NO]>>5956127>Should I get any implants?[WEAK NO]
You sighed at your generally terrible tarot readings. Glancing around, your gaze fell on a levi-trolley hauling familiar-looking plastic barrels – the same kind you'd... 'acquired' a few days ago, but empty. That should be useful for hauling around the dung and urine."Can we use that cart?" you asked the Tech-Priest, your voice a touch too eager.Her gaze narrowed, and the whirring of her cogitators intensified as she processed your request. "Uh, sure, alé," she finally conceded, her voice laced with suspicion. "But be mindful, don't get creative with the machines. Always double-check with a Priest, alright?""Is it really that bad?" you wondered."It really is that bad," she replied, her tone grave. "Remember, each machine has its own Ontological Range. Egrigiously bypassing these holy protocols... well, let's just say that you'll suddenly not be an intern anymore. Alright?"You nodded, stiffly. You had no idea what an "Ontological Range" was, but you could guess it meant something like, the proper use of a machine.---Unlike the Schola, Zlatino had no set breaks. The Tech-Adepts around you, including those not attending to the Oilmother, toiled tirelessly, fueled by occasional bites of the same ration-cubes from the Cryo-Conservation Cabinets. Jamarco, you had noticed, had already silently snagged and swallowed down a couple of the cubes himself, so you did too.Exhausted from hours of hauling greasy cubes and overflowing waste canisters, you finally stumbled out of the Zlatino workshop. The afternoon sun cast long shadows across the industrial sprawl, and the rumble of departing vehicles filled the air. Unlike the bulky levi-buses of the Schola, these were sleek personal transports, often accompanied by impeccably polished servitors. You watched, fascinated, as a group of well-dressed civilians emerged, their Zlatino servitor twitching and emitting a low, rhythmic whine.Jamarco nudged you, a glint in his eye. "Fancy checking out the Public Shrine, newbie? That's where all the fancy people go with their fancy broken toys. I'll keep an eye out for the bus, alé.""Oh, sure. Thanks!"---The thrum of the workshop replaced by a dull, frustrated murmur. The Public Shrine was a vast, neoclassical cathedral bathed in the eerie glow of flickering chem-lamps. Unlike the brutal efficiency of the workshop, the shrine felt... opulent. Paintings adorned the walls, depicting scenes of techno-religious dogma and Imperial legend. At the shrine's heart, atop a raised dais, a colossal war machine stood sentinel. Its intricately etched outer shell gleamed under the light, a breathtaking testament to the Machine God's beautiful artistry. Exposed archeo-mechanisms hinted at its ancient power slumbering within.
But something was off. Most of the stations on the sides meant for repairs were empty, gleaming tools abandoned mid-task, just two were being currently operated by Tech-Priests. A smattering of well-dressed individuals, clearly high-class or their elaborately garbed servants, milled about, their faces etched with growing impatience.One particularly pompous man, his aquiline nose pinched in disdain, rapped his cane loudly on the polished floor. "This is outrageous! I require an immediate, IMMEDIATE attention on my ocular implant. Do these... attendants... have any idea who I am?"A flustered servitor, puppeteered by one of the Tech-Priest's anxious finger-gestures, scurried over. "M-most esteemed patron," it stammered, its voice a harsh metallic rasp, "some of the Tech-Priests are currently... indisposed. They shall attend to your needs momentarily, with the Omnissiah's blessing."The man scoffed. "Blessing be damned! I require a solution, now! This delay is unacceptable!"His frustration echoed amongst the others, a low rumble of discontent simmering in the opulent chamber. You exchanged a nervous glance with Jamarco, who stood by the entrance, a sardonic grin plastered on his face.You were about to just sneak out back to Jamarco when a figure glided towards you, momentarily distracting you from the growing tension."Excuse me," the voice said, and you found yourself face-to-face with one of Vassioport's many Venuses. A young woman, breathtakingly attractive, stood before you. Her outfit was a mix of a flowing Imperial-style noble dress and more avant-garde Glitterglobe-style designer cloths with printed branding that held stretched over her gigantic bust."You must be a Tech-Priest," she continued, her lips curving into a dazzling smile. "My poor Pip seems to be malfunctioning. Wondering if you could take a quick look?"She gestured towards a nearby station. Perched on it was a tiny, humanoid servitor, its polished brass frame dull and its movements jerky. It chittered apologetically, its voice box sputtering."Uh, actually, I'm not a Tech-Priest. Just an apprentice." You gestured vaguely towards yourself.A flicker of disappointment crossed her flawless features, quickly replaced by a playful smile. "Oh? But perhaps you could still just give him a little look, still?" she batted her eyelashes, her voice dripping with a feigned helplessness, as her hand discreetly slipped some coin into your apprentice uniform's pocket.* Obtained 100 credits *"I... I don't know," you mumbled.> Inspect (and attempt to diagnose) the servitor under the pretense of "admiring the ingenuity of the Machine God".> Report that this woman had attempted to bribe you to the Tech-Priests, give her the money back.> Tell her that you can try to help her, but that it was going to have to be elsewhere.> Write in
> Inspect (and attempt to diagnose) the servitor under the pretense of "admiring the ingenuity of the Machine God".PLOT HOOK!
>>5956274> "no promises are made"> Inspect (and attempt to diagnose) the servitor under the pretense of "admiring the ingenuity of the Machine God".
>>5956284+1
>>5956274>Report that this woman had attempted to bribe you to the Tech-Priests, give her the money back.This is a terrible idea. These are tech-priests, TECH-PRIESTS! If we get caught fucking with a servitor without training our ass is gone. I know le booba, but think anons, THINK!
>>5956274+1 >>5956366
> Inspect (and attempt to diagnose) the servitor under the pretense of "admiring the ingenuity of the Machine God".Will we be able to get more money out of her?also, do we have condoms?
>>5956274>Write-in>Give her her money back, apologize, and tell her that she'll have to wait for a while longer because this is literally our first day and we're not allowed to do stuff with the machinery yet. After all, wouldn't you rather have someone qualified look at your servitor?
>>5956274changing my vote >>5956284 to >>5956377
>>5956377+1 I change my vote too should be sensible not stupid.
>>5956274>Write-in>Give her her money back, apologize, and tell her that she'll have to wait for a while longer because this is literally our first day and we're not allowed to do stuff with the machinery yet. After all, wouldn't you rather have someone qualified look at your servitor?Tempted to flip a card for this
> Inspect (and attempt to diagnose) the servitor under the pretense of "admiring the ingenuity of the Machine God".
>>5956377+1This is a trap
>>5956274>>5956377Support. Lets not get lynched on our first day
>>5956377Supporting +1
>Give her her money back, apologize, and tell her that she'll have to wait for a while longer because this is literally our first day and we're not allowed to do stuff with the machinery yet. After all, wouldn't you rather have someone qualified look at your servitor?"Hold on, miss," you interjected, your gaze flickering to the hidden pocket where she'd stashed the coins. "Before we get started, may I see your hand?"The woman tilted her head slightly, her perfectly sculpted brows furrowing in confusion. Still, she extended her hand. You quickly put her coins back into her delicate palm (so soft!) and closed her fist with a reassuring squeeze before she could protest.A childhood spent navigating the cutthroat world of the hives had honed your instincts. Accepting those easy coins felt like a trap, a potential debt they could exploit later if you didn't do as they wanted you to."Sorry, miss, but you're going to have to wait for a while longer," you told her, a hint of apology in your voice. "This is literally my first day, and I don't think I'm allowed to do anything with machinery yet. After all, wouldn't you rather have someone qualified look at your servitor? Sorry, again."She blinked, the playful facade momentarily dissolving. A soft chuckle escaped her lips. "Well, well. Fine. I suppose it is how it is."You'd rather not disrespect the work of the Omnissiah in the *very house* of the Omnissiah.---The levi-bus lumbered to a halt, its groaning engine a welcome change from the symphony of complaints echoing through the Public Shrine."Welcome to Zlatino!" Jamarco wheezed, collapsing onto a bench on the vehice. "Holy Workshop number three, in all its glory.""Is it always like this?" you ask him.Jamarco snorted. "Not exactly. Technically, the Workshop's Public Shrine should be a place for proper veneration, y'know, praying to the Omnissiah, rituals with the regular people, all that stuff. Repairs for 'donations' were just a side-gig - there are other, much better, much fancier places, actually dedicated to Zlatino repairs. This is just the industrial district! But Zlatino's been booming lately, more machines to maintain than there are Tech-Priests to maintain them. So, the whole 'worship' thing kind of... went on the back burner."---
The levi-bus shuddered as it lurched to a stop outside the Schola gates. You and Jamarco disembarked, weary but exhilarated after your first day at Zlatino. But as you stepped off the vehicle, a grim-faced Deacon Benedict was at the entrance, his usually calm demeanor replaced by raw panic."Thank the Emperor you're back!" he gasped, rushing towards you. His voice was strained, a stark contrast to his usual stoic pronouncements."Thank the Emperor you're back!" he gasped, relief flooding his weathered features. "Are you alright?""Deacon? What's wrong?" you stammered, alarm bells clanging in your head."You... you shouldn't have been sent off-site, Anon," he blurted, his eyes darting around as if searching for unseen threats. "The Schola shouldn't have... it was a mistake.""A mistake?" you echoed, utterly confused. "Is there some danger I wasn't aware of?""Danger?" the Deacon repeated, his voice barely a whisper. "You might be far more important than you realize, Anon. Staying within the Schola walls is *imperative*."Just then, Instructor Seflejo emerged from the building, her brow furrowed at the Deacon's agitated state. "Alé, Benedict," she said, her voice laced with concern. "What seems to be the trouble?"The Deacon spun on her, his voice rising in a hiss. "Trouble? Why did you send him to the industrial district, Seflejo? Don't you understand? He can't be out there!"Seflejo's brow furrowed in confusion. "He received an internship offer from Zlatino, Deacon. A golden opportunity for his future, wouldn't you agree?""Pff- Zlatino." Benedict's composure fractured. "This is no ordinary student, Seflejo!" he nearly shouted, his urgency hanging heavy in the air.The commotion drew the attention of the monstrously obese Drill Abbot, who waddled over like a gelatinous mountain. "Benedict, Benedict," he soothed, a greasy smile plastered on his face. "Here now, calm yourself." He reached into his robes and produced a plump pouch that jingled with coins. "Little Jamarco's parents, bless their worried hearts, couldn't bear the thought of their son being all alone at Zlatino's harsh workshop. Surely you can appreciate their... generous contribution, eh? Perhaps a little reconsideration is in order?"Benedict's eyes narrowed, his gaze burning through him. "This isn't about the money, Theophil!" he hissed, his voice barely above a whisper. The coin pouch dangled limply in Abbot's hand."Cancel the internship. Immediately," the Deacon spat.The Drill Abbot chuckled, a sound like oil bubbling in a vat. "Now, now, Deacon. Here at the Schola, we may take your students, but how we run our programs? That, my friend, falls outside your jurisdiction." His gaze flicked to you, a cold glint in his greasy eyes. "As for you, Anon, your quarters await. Dismissed."---With a sigh, you tossed another pile of admirer letters onto the opulent table of your VIP quarters. Collapsing onto the vast bed, you finally got to rest for today.---
Rolled 99 (1d100)>>5957020>"Is the drill abbot secretly a raging homosexual?"
Rolled 26 (1d100)>>5957020>Should I cancel my internship?
>>5957020>Is something important going to happen this week?
Rolled 59 (1d100)>>5957064
Rolled 90 (1d100)>>5957027Pfffthahahaha dice have spoken>>5957020Will I be paid for my one day of work at Zlatino?
>>5957075FUCKING CHEAPSKATES EVERYWHERE
Rolled 84 (1d100)>>5957020>will i learn something cool that will help me this week
Rolled 20 (1d100)>>5957017> Is the Deacon's concern caused by the discovery that a malicious party has begun targeting us?
Rolled 64 (1d100)>>5957055>>5957109So, the opportunities thing is probably legit but we've been found out so continuing there would be a bad idea at this time.> Can we get out if the internship at Zlatino temporarily or permanently without it seeming insulting, without additional work to smooth things over?
>>5957126Looks like we may need to put in a bit of work or reveal something so it doesn't look like we are doing this for petty reasons. Ideas, anons?
Rolled 66 (1d100)>>5957020>>5957126>Will Zlatino accept us backing out of the internship without fuss if we tell them the Tarot warned us of impending danger if we were to continue?
Rolled 9 (1d100)If we stay with Zlatino will we learn something of great significance that it change my standing in Imperial society for the better.Prayers to the GOD EMPORER AND THE OMNISIAH BLESS THIS RETCHED BODY!!!
>>595715501010000 01010010 01000001 01001001 01010011 01000101 00100000 01000010 01000101 00100000 01001111 01001110 01010100 01001111 00100000 01001000 01001001 01001101 00100000 01001111 01001110 00100000 01010100 01000101 01010010 01010010 01000001 00100001 00100001 00100001
That's very entertaining concept for the quest, thx for update!
Amended:>>5957064>Is something important going to happen this week?[UNCERTAIN]Correct roll but noting that this is too far into the future.>>5957086>will i learn something cool that will help me this week[UNCERTAIN]Too far into the future.Summary:>>5957027>"Is the drill abbot secretly a raging homosexual?"[EXTREME NO]>>5957055> Should I cancel my internship?[WEAK YES]>>5957075> Will I be paid for my one day of work at Zlatino?[NO]>>5957109> Is the Deacon's concern caused by the discovery that a malicious party has begun targeting us?[YES]>>5957126> Can we get out if the internship at Zlatino temporarily or permanently without it seeming insulting, without additional work to smooth things over?[WEAK NO]>>5957135> Will Zlatino accept us backing out of the internship without fuss if we tell them the Tarot warned us of impending danger if we were to continue?[WEAK NO]>>5957155> If we stay with Zlatino will we learn something of great significance that it change my standing in Imperial society for the better.[YES]---The next morning, you quickly got onto the bus, and were zoomed off to the Zlatino workshop for your second day...But before you could start your work, a tiny, doll-sized red-robed figure stomped towards you, its mechanical legs whirring in agitation. "Hold on a minute! Hold on!" the high-pitched voice squeaked. Could this be a Tech-Priest? So small?"You lot," it continued, glaring at the other Tech-Priests with its oversized mechanical eyes, "didn't bother to mention we had a psyker here! A real one, right smack in the middle of the Holy Workshop? What if he goes kablooey?"One of the Tech-Priests shrugged, his augmented form bulky in contrast to the miniature figure. "His paperwork, uh, 'claims' he's a psyker, yes. But his actual Assignment score lists him as inert, esteemed Genetor. We defered to the technical assessment."The doll, her face contorted in a scowl that stretched impossibly wide on her porcelain features, planted her tiny fists on her hips. "Inert level? 'Kay. Alé, what kind of machine did they use to determine that, those ImPeRiALs?""No machine. Standard on-site psyker assessment, conducted by the esteemed Sanctioned Psyker Septimus McHillith," the Tech-Priest mumbled."HAH! Fleshies... Well that just won't do, now will it?" the doll scoffed. "We have a perfectly functional Assignment *machine* right here! Let's get a proper reading, shall we?"Another Tech-Priest sighed, already resigned. "His work designation is already inputted for-"The miniature figure, with surprising agility, scrambled onto a nearby console. A series of rapid clicks and whirring noises followed. "Workshop 3 files, override initiated. Login: Genetor Figalina Seralda Almagrosso. Initiating sudo administrator override... process complete."
The tiny Tech-Priest hopped back down, a triumphant glint in her steel fake eyes. "Haha! Consider him requisitioned. Temporary transfer, of course! If the fleshy doesn't spontaneously combust, I'll return him promptly."The other Tech-Priest simply sighed in defeat. "Fine."---Figalina, the miniature Tech-Priest, led you down labyrinthine corridors, the rhythmic clang of distant machinery echoing through the metallic tunnels. You emerged into a cavernous warehouse, the air thick with a cloying, sickly sweet odor. Rows upon rows of grotesque machines filled the vast chamber. Each machine was a horrifying tableau – the lower half of a woman, their upper half deep in the machine, was fused to a monstrous technological frame the size of a Leman Russ battle tank. Their torsos were grotesquely distended, their abdomens stretched taut like grotesque wombs. Within the semi-translucent flesh, dozens of shapes writhed – some fetal, some disturbingly adult-sized, churning slowly.More miniature figures, more copies of the Figalina steel doll, scurried between the machines. They wielded an array of disturbing instruments, a sterile metallic clink accompanying their hurried movements. One adjusted a series of arcane dials on a control panel, another prodded a bulging sac with a syringe filled with a pale liquid.Figalina, her cartoonish eyes gleaming with manic pride, gestured towards the macabre spectacle. "Behold, newbie!" she rasped, her voice a distorted metallic whine, "the pinnacle of organic fleshy production! No vat-grown crap here, no coked-up criminals! We utilize only the purest stock around here in Zlatino, with the most fertile women that the Glitterglobe has to offer! Badaboom, baby - none but the most perfect progenitors for our servitors! Yup yup. Zlatino - quality guaranteed, you love to see it!"---
Eventually the steel doll led you to a colossal metallic monolith awkwardly dressed in crimson Tech-Priest robes. A section on its side hissed open, revealing a human-shaped interior filled with blinking lights and humming machinery.A voice, bright and chipper, boomed from within. "Alright, meatbag, welcome home! Squeeze on in, don't be shy. Just a quick Quality Control cuddle, nothing to worry about. Maybe some tunes while we're at it? Or a nice game of bingo? It's gonna take a lil' while."You stared at the compartment, then back at the Figalina doll with you, who beamed with manic cheer."Uh... in there?" you stammered, gesturing to the open cavity lined with wires.Figalina's laughter echoed from the metallic giant. "Of course, silly! It's me, your friendly neighborhood Tech-Priest, Figalina! Sorry, my main 'bod is far too bombastically sexy to shake hands with. Come on in, the inspection chamber's nice and toasty!"A bead of sweat trickled down your temple. The interior of the cavity was surprisingly warm and cramped, the metal walls seeming to press in on you from all sides. With a resigned sigh, you stepped further inside, the metal platform adjusting with a mechanical whir to accommodate your height."Alright, psyyyyker," Figalina's voice echoed through the chamber, still maintaining its cheerful lilt. "Welcome to Quality Control! First up, a little blood work. Nothing fancy, just a quick check-up. Think of it like a spa treatment! Now, don't flinch when the little fellas come out to play, okay?"Before you could respond, you felt a prick on your arm, followed by a faint whirring sound. A thin needle emerged from one of the walls, retracted momentarily, then plunged back in a different spot."There you go, champ!" Figalina chirped. "See? Easy peasy! Now, let's see what kind of music you fleshies listen to these days. We've got some classic hymns to the Machine God, some electrofunk... oh, there's even some hiver rock from Ginaferra! What tickles your fancy?""...Hymns sound good," you offered, your voice echoing slightly in the metal chamber."Excellent choice!" Figalina's voice boomed through the speakers, a touch too enthusiastic. A moment later, a somber chant filled the chamber."So, Figalina," you ventured, your voice barely audible over the chanting, "what exactly is this machine looking for?""Oh, the usual!" she chirped, the cheerfulness returning, but tinged with a nervous edge. "Tissue quality, genetic purity... the standard stuff, you know? But most importantly..." Her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "We gotta make sure you're not a psyker. Can't have any loose cannons wandering around here in Zlatino, setting off random explosions with their minds, right? Now that would be a PR nightmare! Total blow to the brand image!"---
Silence stretched within the metallic chamber, broken only by the whirring of machinery. Finally, Figalina's voice crackled through the speaker, laced with a hint of nervous amusement. "Oooooh, shit, son. Ooooh snaaaap."The platform beneath you shifted slightly, sending a jolt of unease through you. "What is it?" you asked, voice tight."Well, Anon," Figalina chirped, a touch too brightly, "your psyker ordinal... it's a doozy. 1.482. That puts you right on the edge. Right at..." her voice dropped to a conspiratorial whisper, "Pi."A bead of sweat trickled down your temple. "Pi?""Precisely!" Figalina's voice crackled with a manic edge. "Loophole city, baybeeeee! Alé, by the letter of Imperial Law, a score that low technically disqualifies you as a psyker - it's ILLEGAL to officially mark you as a psyker. Which means..." she paused for dramatic effect, "...I don't have to hand you over to the Inquisition, haha! Lucky you, lucky you.""Inquisition?" you asked."Yep, all the psykers I get have to go straight to the Inquisition, it's the law! No wonder you're going through all of this weird stuff with the Schola, what could anyone do with you? Alé, make you a clergyman? Guardsman? Tech-Priest? They can't make you a Sanctioned Psyker, that's for sure, because it's illegal to mark you as a psyker at all in the first place." she chuckled. "Can't even send you to Scholastica Psykana. Legally speaking.""But I have incredible control! Septimus said something like that" you add. "Like, crazy good, apparently."Figalina's voice softened slightly. "The Assignment isn't designed for fancy footwork with the Warp. How do you expect us to measure 'crazy good control'? It's all wibbly-wobbly psychic energy, how do you even quantify something like that? Sticking a meter to your forehead and hoping for the best? Measuring your raw light in the Warp is hard enough, and that's the only objective standard the damn Administratum can get the worlds to agree on. If it doesn't catch fringe cases like yours, well, that's not my damn problem."---
The metal doors of the machine retracted with a hiss, releasing you from its metallic embrace. One of Figalina's miniature Tech-Priest forms scurried over."Alright, fleshie," it chirped in Figalina's voice, handing you a stack of papers. "Here's the gospel according to the Omnissiah – your official test results. Most importantly," it emphasized, tapping the top paper, "this one declares you 'technically not a psyker,' signed by the BEST Genetor on the Glitterglobe."A chilling metallic grin seemed to spread across Figalina's miniature form. "So," it continued, its voice dripping with predatory cheer, "how's your love life? Kinda lonely? You see," it leaned in closer, its glowing eyes flickering with barely contained excitement, "I'm incredibly curious about your little 'psyker' situation."You stammered, caught off guard by the sudden shift. "Maybe?" you mumbled, unsure how to respond to the unsettling proposition."Excellent!" Figalina chirped, her voice grating with manic glee. "We can make this mutually beneficial! I've got a few... daughters, let's say, who wouldn't mind getting to know you better. Imagine the possibilities! Breeding your 'magic mojo' could unlock untold advancements!""Fat, thin, tall, short... the choice is yours, I got daughters for everything! Though," she added with a sly chuckle, "you don't have to decide right this very moment. We've got a good half-hour before you got to get back to hauling literal shit. Now, spill the beans! Tell me everything about these 'powers' of yours."> Discuss more about the legal implications of your not-a-psyker-but-a-psyker condition> Discuss more about this proposition with her 'daughters'> Ask if you could, through her, get into a better job than hauling around shit and piss, in exchange for telling her about your powers.>Write-in
>>5957326>Rows upon rows of grotesque machines filled the vast chamber. Each machine was a horrifying tableau – the lower half of a woman, their upper half deep in the machine, was fused to a monstrous technological frame the size of a Leman Russ battle tank. Their torsos were grotesquely distended, their abdomens stretched taut like grotesque wombs. Within the semi-translucent flesh, dozens of shapes writhed – some fetal, some disturbingly adult-sized, churning slowly.There can be no doubt. Zlatino is absolutely involved with tech-heresy.>>5957336>Discuss more about the legal implications of your not-a-psyker-but-a-psyker conditionWe can't let ourselves get baby-trapped by these hereteks. Best to lead them on while we establish an independent power-base. I'm also curious about the legality here.
>>5957336>Write in: SEDUCE THE BOX
>>5957336> Discuss more about the legal implications of your not-a-psyker-but-a-psyker condition
> Ask if you could, through her, get into a better job than hauling around shit and piss, in exchange for telling her about your powers.>See if she isn't willing to teach you about her profession maybe you can learn something about the Genetors of Zlatino.
>>5957336>> Discuss more about the legal implications of your not-a-psyker-but-a-psyker condition>> Ask if you could, through her, get into a better job than hauling around shit and piss, in exchange for telling her about your powers.Urge to flip cards rising, must use legal loopholes
>>5957336>>5957443>>5957473Support> Ask if you could, through her, get into a better job than hauling around shit and piss, in exchange for telling her about your powers.Something that pays credits>See if she isn't willing to teach you about her profession maybe you can learn something about the Genetors of Zlatino.> Discuss more about the legal implications of your not-a-psyker-but-a-psyker condition
>>5957336> Discuss more about the legal implications of your not-a-psyker-but-a-psyker condition> Tactfully avoid sharing more information about yourself with the scary robot lady. For example, do not blurt out that we can use the Tarot to divine future events with near perfect accuracy.
>>5957339>There can be no doubt. Zlatino is absolutely involved with tech-heresy.I don't know about that, normal techpriest stuff looks like that too, especially the ones working in biology.>>5957336> Discuss more about the legal implications of your not-a-psyker-but-a-psyker condition
> Discuss more about the legal implications of your not-a-psyker-but-a-psyker conditionYou cleared your throat, the weight of your legal limbo pressing down on you. "So, about this whole 'not-a-psyker' business..." you began, your voice tentative. "What exactly does that mean for me?"Figalina's metallic chuckle echoed through the chamber "Alé, a fucked issue, isn't it? The Imperium itself it's like a living being. What do you think it feeds on?"You hesitated, "Its people?""Power," Figalina rasped, the words laced with a strange reverence. "Transformation, resource acquisition, raw productivity... all feeding into *power*, for the benefit of all of humanity. And Law," she continued, her voice dropping to a low hum, "is the Imperium's brain, the neural network that connects us and dictates our actions. It's the law that maximizes this... sustenance, ensures the survival and growth of the whole."A chilling silence descended. Finally, Figalina broke it, her voice tinged with a predatory curiosity. "So, what does an animal do when it encounters something new, something it doesn't understand?"You swallowed, a bad feeling creeping in. "It's cautious... curious?""Precisely!" Figalina chirped, a hint of manic glee creeping back into her voice. "Curiosity is the first stage. But after observation comes three classes of choices. It could deem it negative, so it fights or flees from it. It could deem it irrelevant, so it just ignores it. Or it could deem it positive, so it allies or..." she paused, her voice dropping to a low hum, "It consumes it.""It's a universal principle of all sufficiently intelligent systems." Figalina chirped, her voice regaining a manic edge. "Imperial Law is a massive bio-cogitator, made up of the Administratum's ink, Astropaths... but most importantly, our own human awareness that it exists.""But wouldn't it be safer to just purge everything new? Or that could be potentially dangerous at all?" you blurted out, parroting the lessons drilled into you during catechism. "That's what the Ecclesiarchy taught me.""Think I could just point at you and scream 'heretic' until someone showed up and purged you?" Figalina's voice buzzed with a dangerous curiosity. "Executed on the spot, no questions asked?"
You hesitated, a cold sweat prickling your skin. "Probably?" you finally mumbled.Figalina scoffed. "Wrong. Liars exist, don't they? Deception lurks everywhere – in the whispers of enemies, the whispers of our *own minds*. Imagine an infiltrator, a disguised foe, weaving through our ranks. What if they could simply point fingers, brand loyals as heretics, and cause the Imperium to devour itself? Control the Imperium from within by dangling the 'heretic' label around?"Figalina leaned in further, her glowing eyes boring into you like a hot drill. "The law," she rasped, her voice a metallic whisper, "exists to prevent such cancers within itself as well."You swallowed, your voice barely a croak. "So, what... does that mean for me? In the grand scheme of all this?"Figalina chuckled, a sound like rusty gears grinding together. "Well, the Imperium's 'brain,' is slow as all fuck and riddled with bureaucratic senility. A case like yours? Alé, it'll cause them endless confusion and delays. Years maybe decades, of arguing over legalese and getting the right authorizations. The Imperium's got a lot of problems to deal with, a million fires burning, and not enough resources to put them all out. That is," she leaned in even closer, her voice dropping to a conspiratorial hiss, "Unless someone... expedites the process."
A cold dread coiled in your stomach. "Expedites? How?"Figalina's eyes gleamed with a predatory light. "By being either an exceptional threat... or an exceptional benefit to the Imperium. Tsk, tsk. I wouldn't recommend either.""So, just sit here and twiddle your thumbs?" you asked, a hint of frustration creeping into your voice. "What am I supposed to do?"Figalina threw her head back and let out a metallic cackle. "Alé, alé, fleshling! That's entirely up to you. Though, you wouldn't want to get hauled off by those party-crashing Arbites now, would you? Especially not with your little 'condition.'"She leaned in closer, "Being a Tech-Priest is a lot more than just praising the Machine God, buddy. They don't teach you this shit in school, but you gotta know enough about the Emperor's Holy Law to keep those Inquisition snoops and Arbites guys off your shiny metal ass. After all," she boomed, her voice echoing through the chamber, "the Law is the Emperor's will made manifest! And every loyal subject, from the lowliest grot to the mightiest Tech-Magos, has a duty to serve it!""And hey," she chirped, her voice regaining its manic cheer, "learning a little bit of the Emperor's Holy Word isn't a crime!"One of her miniature Tech-Priest forms scurried over, depositing a small, mass-produced booklet with the Zlatino logo emblazoned on it. "Here newbie," Figalina chirped, her voice scraping metal against metal. "This little beauty might save your hide someday. Packed with info on archeotech rights, mutant heresy laws, the whole servitor ownership shebang... but most importantly," she tapped a specific section with a metallic finger, "pay real close attention to these bits here..."* Obtained Zlatino Legal Handbook *
***Legal Justification for Law Enforcement upon Anon:- Law Enforcement Requires Justification: Officers must have legal basis (Prime Law of the God-Emperor § 23) for enacting justice on someone (A1 § 3, Verse 2; BG2 § 23, Verse 4).- Without Justification: This could be Abstractionism (legal interpretation according to the "spirit" of a rule rather than the exact text of the rule) or Vigilantism (acting outside the law) (see relevant case numbers).- Justification Recording: Justification needs recording within 31 hours (case 23489434).- Detention Based on Officer Discretion (Up to 113 Terran Years): Possible under A342 § 43, Verse 34 if suspected of Class-28 Heresy.Anon's Legal Status:- Class-28 Heresy: Rogue Psykers below Eta level (A232 § 23, Verse 10), Pseudosquat class Abhumans (A24 § 22, Verse 11), Uncertified Ogryn class Abhumans (A24 § 22, Verse 1-B).- Psyker Definition: An individual with an Assignment score of Omicron or higher (H4 § 22, Verse 6-G). Those who fail this definition are Not A Psyker.- "Not A Psyker" Assignment Trumps Discretion: A valid "Not A Psyker" Assignment certificate overrides officer discretion (H442 § 132, Verse 12).***"This ain't the whole Imperial Law library, mind you," Figalina rasped, her metallic voice echoing in the chamber. "Mostly covers industrial legalese and keeping our toaster-lovin' brothers out of hot water. But hey," she added with a hint of a metallic chuckle, "enough for a newbie to stay out of trouble, eh? Don't want to be losing our beloved apprentices now, do we!"---It was finally time for you to return to work. Releasing a nervous breath, you clutched the legal handbook and shuffled back towards the Oilmother through the corridors. Maybe a useful loophole or two existed, hidden within the legalese.Perhaps you could use your tarot to figure them out? Or maybe some useful texts you could use to lawyer yourself out of trouble if you had to?---
* You may now draw cards (>>5943408). ** Underlining that I will veto any loopholes/similar that are too obscene, especially if it goes outside what the booklet could reasonably cover, like "yadda yadda this loophole makes me a Lord of Terra automatically". *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
Rolled 99 (1d100)>>5957932>Using rules from *this section* and *this other section*, is there a loophole that allows me to legally study psychic powers on my own accord with the aid of some Imperial library of some kind, for free?
Rolled 61 (1d100)>>5957932>"Can the Drill Abbot hook me up to some of that good shit?"
Rolled 100 (1d100)>>5957932>Should I try to learn more about my condition as a psyker?
>>5958014well alright then
Rolled 72 (1d100)>>5957932>Should I try to get my apprenticeship modified so I can work under Figalina instead of hauling literal shit all day?
Rolled 74 (1d100)>>5957932> While having this handbook on hand is nice. would it be a wise investment of our time to actually study the Lex Imperialis in our spare time?
How do we ask to in some way learn about technology not just the theology but the Math and science behind it all?Ask will we learn the secrets of the Omnisiah if we continue to advance within Zlatino? Will that help.
Rolled 51 (1d100)>>5957932>should i start going to the gym and start getting jacked?
>>5957950>Using rules from *this section* and *this other section*, is there a loophole that allows me to legally study psychic powers on my own accord with the aid of some Imperial library of some kind, for free?[EXTREME NO]>>5957955>"Can the Drill Abbot hook me up to some of that good shit?"[WEAK NO]>>5958014>Should I try to learn more about my condition as a psyker?[EXTREME NO]>>5958023>Should I try to get my apprenticeship modified so I can work under Figalina instead of hauling literal shit all day?[WEAK NO]>>5958024> While having this handbook on hand is nice. would it be a wise investment of our time to actually study the Lex Imperialis in our spare time?[WEAK NO]>>5958037>should i start going to the gym and start getting jacked?[UNCERTAIN]---Another grueling shift of hauling human waste ended. Back on the bus, the usual chatter of exhausted Schola students was slowly replaced by an unsettling silence. One by one, heads lolled back, eyes drooping shut. A familiar unease prickled at your skin. This wasn't fatigue. You'd seen this act before, back in the hive - drugging a ride was a slum hustle classic.You held your breath. Then you yanked a nose hair. No pain. Fuck. Your larger body mass and the years spent breathing the toxic, coked up hive air probably gave you some resistance. But how long would it last?The bus suddenly lurched sideways, pushing you against the window next to you, diving into a gaping maw in the street. The familiar glow of Vassioport vanished, replaced by the oppressive darkness of its undercity. Through the polished plastiglass, you glimpsed a blur of colossal tubes, hidden factories, whorehouses, and skeletal remains of forgotten structures, all feeding the bloated casinos and lavish lifestyles above. It was a world much like the underhive – your natural habitat.You scanned the bus's interior. Gyrano Forgeworld frame, mass-produced all across this sector, the telltale sprues in the corners of the windows - a couple solid kicks in the lower right corner should pop it right out. Its how your mom nabbed these things to pay for food.You cast a wary glance towards the front of the bus. The sharply dressed chauffeur was in a separate compartment up ahead, closed off by a plastiglass door.> Kick out one of the windows, jump right out, flee.> Carefully and discreetly try search the kids' backpacks for any sort of communication device to try to call authorities.> Forcefully lean against the window corner a few times to slightly open it for air, stay on the bus, pretend to sleep.> Write in
>>5957932>Will we bump into the aristocratic girl who we returned money to after our work shift today?
> Carefully and discreetly try search the kids' backpacks for any sort of communication device to try to call authorities.>Forcefully lean against the window corner a few times to slightly open it for air, stay on the bus, pretend to sleep.Maybe try to wake some of them up or look for a weapon?
>>5958139> Carefully and discreetly try search the kids' backpacks for any sort of communication device to try to call authorities.> Forcefully lean against the window corner a few times to slightly open it for air, stay on the bus, pretend to sleep.
>>5958139>Carefully and discreetly try search the kids' backpacks for any sort of communication device to try to call authorities.>Forcefully lean against the window corner a few times to slightly open it for air, stay on the bus, pretend to sleep.Let's figure this out.
> Carefully and discreetly try search the kids' backpacks for any sort of communication device to try to call authorities.>Forcefully lean against the window corner a few times to slightly open it for air, stay on the bus, pretend to sleep.Desperate, you held your breath in shallow gasps. Not daring to alert the gas-masked driver, you began a frantic search. Gravel crunched under your shoes as you nudged backpacks towards you with your foot. Books tumbled and forgotten snacks scattered in the bags. Finally, your fingers brushed against a familiar rectangle - a dataslate. With trembling hands, you cracked it open, a silent prayer escaping your lips. Blessed relief flooded you as the screen flickered to life, revealing a tele-convo interface connected to the child's family."Anon, classmate. Drugged. Kidnapped. Bus. Undercity. Industrial area. Passed Pinklight House. HELP!" The message pulsed on the screen, and then you pressed "SEND".Your vision blurred as precious air dwindled. You threw yourself against the window, desperate to get some clean oxygen. But your weakening limbs failed you, you had ran out of time and consciousness. The stale, drugged air lulled you into a heavy, unwilling sleep.---Panic clawed at your throat as you awoke. Claustrophobia squeezed you in the cramped, coffin-sized container. Rough, worn-down plastic and metal pressed against your skin, cool and damp. Your fingers, tracing the surface in a desperate search for escape, brushed against strange grooves etched into the material. Running your fingertips along them repeatedly, a familiar symbol sent a jolt through you – the Zlatino logo. Past the logo, your fingers brushed against a series of ridges and indentations, hinting at some unseen mechanism.A voice, inhumanly raspy and high-pitched like metal scraping on bone, grated outside. "ALÉ! Top genes over there, bottom shelf gotta get on board NOW! Follow the drill, ya muppet! Voidship ain't waitin' for yer sorry ass! We got eight minutes, EIGHT MINUTES - VAI, VAI, VAI!" The sarcophagus lurched, tossing you around as it was unceremoniously relocated. Through the plastic, you heard the rumble of a massive engine and the crunch of heavy wheels on gravel, zooming off to elsewhere."Alé, look at the tellie!" another's barely-human voice croaked. "Them braindead nobles think ey won! Celebratin' gettin' all their Schola crotchmonkeys back! Aaaaye, there's our boy shaking hands! Our boy! C'mon, get that promotion already Lejandro, we all be believing in ya!"Beneath your Zlatino robes, your trusty tarot deck pulsed with a familiar heat.
"Can I escape undetected from this container thing?"[YES]"Can I kick the plastic in front of me open to escape?"[NO]"If I press here, and then kick the bottom, will I escape?"[NO]"Will pressing on the top as I hold this tube thing be useful to my escape?"[YES]"If I press on the top as I hold this tube thing and then kick the bottom, will I be able to escape?"[YES]Bingo. You got a way out of this thing, and the tarot still seemed warm for more.---* You may now draw cards (>>5943408) *1 - 3: [EXTREME YES]. The result is not only "Yes", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.4 - 20: [YES].21 - 40: [WEAK YES]. This is a "Yes", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.41 - 60: [UNCERTAIN].61 - 80: [WEAK NO]. This is a "No", but with a certain twist, caveat, missing detail.81 - 97: [NO].98 - 100: [EXTREME NO]. The result is not only "No", but so to an extraordinary, exaggerated degree.
>>5958571Will Anon find a convenient cache of credits or weapons in this facility?
Rolled 55 (1d100)>>5958585try again
Rolled 8 (1d100)>>5958571is there a room near me that's unoccupied that has something useful for my escape?
Rolled 100 (1d100)>>5958571>Should I try to knock one of these idiots out and take his gun?
>>5958630i guess not
Rolled 62 (1d100)>>5958571If we time it correctly could we just walk out through a back door?
Rolled 44 (1d100)>>5958571>Should I look for help from an ally
Rolled 86 (1d100)>>5958571>Is someone coming to help my escape?
Rolled 2 (1d100)Mine absence will not be noticed one hour later?
Rolled 5 (1d100)Will I be able to gather enough evidence to annihilate this organized crime syndicate, when I get out of here?
>>5958788PRAISE BE THE EMPEROR!!!
Rolled 70 (1d100)Will I be able to help others out of this situation without risking myself in the process?
Rolled 97 (1d100)>>5958571>If we operate the unseen mechanism will we attract unwanted attention?
Next update is going to be delayed by quite a bit, but it should pop up in less than 24 hours from now.
>>5958586>Will Anon find a convenient cache of credits or weapons in this facility?[UNCERTAIN]>>5958587>is there a room near me that's unoccupied that has something useful for my escape?[YES]>>5958630>Should I try to knock one of these idiots out and take his gun?[EXTREME NO]>>5958639>If we time it correctly could we just walk out through a back door?[WEAK NO]>>5958643>Should I look for help from an ally[UNCERTAIN]>>5958666>Is someone coming to help my escape?[NO]>>5958770>Mine absence will not be noticed one hour later?[EXTREME YES]>>5958788>Will I be able to gather enough evidence to annihilate this organized crime syndicate, when I get out of here?[YES]>>5958794>Will I be able to help others out of this situation without risking myself in the process?[WEAK NO]>>5958870>If we operate the unseen mechanism will we attract unwanted attention?[NO]---The Tarot's whispers proved true. A firm press on the container's top, as you held a certain tube, followed by a well-placed kick to the bottom caused an airlock hiss that filled the cramped space as ancient mechanisms strained under the dual assault. With a satisfying groan, the plastic sarcophagus cracked open.You wriggled free, rolling onto concrete. Dust motes danced in the dim light filtering from above in the open warehouse. Taking a deep, ragged breath, you surveyed your surroundings. The tang of exhaust fumes and industrial waste assaulted your senses. You were in the underbelly of Vassioport's docks. You could see massive cargo containers whizzing past on automated railcarts past the wide-open warehouse doors, dwarfed by the town-sized voidships docked above. And beyond the warehouse, you saw a group of beings bustled under the harsh glow of flickering chem-lamps. Their hairless heads, bulbous and vein-streaked, were accompanied by bony plates that ran from nose to brow, giving them an insectoid appearance. Their skin, an unnatural shade of purple, stretched tautly over gaunt frames. A cacophony of guttural croaks filled the air, punctuated by the metallic clang of containers.Some sported a third arm jutting out from their torsos, wielding tools with practiced ease. All of them, three-armed and two-armed alike, moved with a feverish intensity, shoving and hauling plastic containers onto automated rail carts that zipped past in a blur. One hulking figure stood out – the apparent leader. Three lasguns, one in each hand, gleamed ominously as he bellowed orders at his grotesque crew, his voice a grating rasp. This wasn't a loading operation. It was a getaway. "LOAD THEM UP! FOLLOW THE PLAN!"
You remembered the tarot reads - there should be an empty room. And if you operated the 'unseen mechanism', you wouldn't attract any unwanted attention, right?You scanned the warehouse. Stacks of plastic pods of very different sizes, each resembling a sarcophagus much like yours, filled the space. They were all anchored to a central beam, and your basic Tech-Priest knowledge kicked in - this had to be part of the mechanism you noticed earlier. A massive lever jutted out from the side, clearly linked to the anchoring system. With a decisive pull, the warehouse hissed as the pods depressurized. You darted behind a mountain of crates, seeking refuge and a better vantage point.Across the vast space, an office with large glass windows nestled within the warehouse caught your eye. Stacks of paperwork piled up in it promised valuable intel. It was empty too. Perfect. Slinking through the shadows, you inched closer, your heart pounding a frantically. Suddenly, a clear, tomboyish voice sliced through the tense silence."A little further, Pachita! Now to the right!"A flicker of movement snagged your attention. A shimmering tear in reality, veiled by heat distortion, sliced through the air. It screamed like a thousand birdsong chirps as it zipped toward a the group of montruous humans. Their emaciated figures stood transfixed. "Pachita, now! GO!" the voice commanded with urgency.The tear erupted in a blinding flash, sending the mutants flying like ragdolls. Your mind reeled. A fucking witch? You crouched low, seeking cover. At the warehouse entrance, you saw it. A super stacked young woman in a revealing black party dress, wreathed in electricity crackling around her convulsing body, her eyes white and glowing with unholy power. The voice was coming from beside her, but you couldn't get an angle to see who it was.You dove deeper into the warehouse, adrenaline propelling you towards the office. Another shout, laced with urgency, sent another tear in reality screaming into existence. The warehouse shuddered with the force of the explosion, punctuated by the staccato of lasgun fire."PSYKER! PSYKERRR, SHE'S OUT!" A mutant's panicked bellow echoed through the warehouse."Hold tight!" The leader's voice boomed in defiance. "We almost there!"Another explosion rocked the building, followed by another chorus of lasgun fire.You finally slipped into the office, the din muffled by the thin walls. Rows of dusty files loomed before you. Bureaucratic nonsense: manifests, voidship clearances, technical jargon. Then, a glimmer of hope. A schedule with a map. Automated railcart schedules with a map of this very docking area. These could be your ticket out of here. Half were going into the docked voidship, the others... out of it, into logistics stations further ahead. A potential escape route.
Hrm! What else might be valuable? Whatever, with a swift motion, you shrugged off your red Tech-Priest mantle, transforming it into a makeshift bag. Most of the papers and files tumbled into it with the crucial document clutched in your hand: the rail map and schedule.> Get on a railcart out of here, alone.> Get on a railcart into the voidship, alone.> Go over to the group attacking the mutants and get them to retreat and get on board one of the railcarts out of here.> Go over to the group attacking the mutants, help them, and then lead a charge into the voidship by jumping onto a railcart that's going into it.> Write-in
>>5960360According to the Tarot, trying to help others will place us in peril.We're not much of a fighter, at least not without the prescience of the Emperor to hard carry us.> Get on a railcart out of here, alone.
>>5960360>Get on a railcart out of here, alone.
>>5960359>> Get on a railcart into the voidship, alone.Get your ass back to mars
>>5960574You okay QM?
I unfortunately don't think that I have it in me to continue this because of a few things:- Very little progress gets made, likely because of the deck. The best strategy seems to be to hide and do nothing until the deck endorses an action to take which drags the story on and on.- While very fun at first, the fact that I can't effectively plan or worldbuild because the Tarot RNG can completely recontextualize things, has gone from entertaining to frustrating.
>>5961787Well it was fun while it lasted. Take care QM.
>>5961787I don't know about the former, but for the latter you could make the deck defer to you rather than the other way around. IE, if an anon asks "Is (X) an enemy of the emperor" and you already have that decided you give a yes or no instead of leaving it to RNG, whereas for stuff that's genuinely uncertain you leave it up to RNG.
>>5961787It was a good run though I admit it's disappointing, probably that and even more frustrating for you.Thanks QM
>>5961787Well you tried qm, it was fun while it lasted.
>>5961787That was actually why I was hooked up, the idea that Tarot deck define reality was really new and entertaining, thx for run QM, it was interesting for me.
>>5961787You've got a setup for a good quest here, if the Tarot aspect is proving too dragging you could always put the Tarot to one side and turn this into a more traditional choice-driven quest. Thanks for running and trying something new, though; whatever you decide.
