Monday, January 7, 2019

The Fabricated Tales of Alpha Capharius - Season 2: Chapter 4

The Fabricated Tales of 
Alpha Capharius
Season 2
Chapter 4

Kroot - Miniature from my personal collection of painted stuff!
This is a piece of fiction and may contain mature and adult themes. 
You have been warned - read at your own discretion.

Distressed Ramble: To start with I was of many minds when I finished playing this session of Dark Heresy as to whether or not to write another Fabricated Tales.  I put a lot of effort into developing a character, and my character development is done through my story telling here in this blog.  In game my character is the weakest there is.  I don't show any interest in the biggest guns, best armour or toys.  That's for the tanks, of which this party is not lacking.  My character is a "scientist" a person interested in seeking out knowledge and technology.  Fighting is something I only do as a last resort.  So when I find with the last two sessions the company being placed in two unwinnable situations I find I suffer severe malaise of psyche.  As I have stated at multiple opportunities I don't respond well to certain situations, and this session was one of them.  I enjoyed the day to a point, then didn't.  In the end it has taken me some time to  wash away the overwhelming negativity of the day and write my Tales without too much of my distaste of the day seeping through.  If it has I apologise, and this preamble will hopefully explain why it may seem angry at times.

+++Personal Journal Update+++
The universe can get fucked!
+++End Journal Update+++

Our endless journey in the webway appears to be drawing to a conclusion.  The continual bonding between Horst and Eliza Le Roche is disturbing.  To think that I have to somehow manipulate the fabric of time to place this woman back in time appalls me.  Then I think why worry, it won’t affect me!

Eliza has taken to questioning Horst regularly about the god emperor and his purpose and divinity. She will often knell before the mighty Horst in seclusion where the pair will perform their holy rituals.  Horst will go on about the expanding might of the emperor’s faith and how his seed of truth will implant itself in the body and minds of the faithful.  [redacted by Censorshang on since when did my work become the subject of censorship, if I want to write smut I should [redacted] – right I see that I am not going to win at this point in time, but I always win my wars if not battles.] So it would appear that Eliza has fallen well and truly into the camp of the Imperial faith and the clutches of Horst’s bed (now I can’t get that image out of my head and Francine keeps asking me constantly now about this subject).

Finally our destination is found and a disused entrance way located.  It would appear that this is the dumping ground for bodies of the failed experiments of the Haemonculi.  I wondered at the time why they had been left here rather than fashioned and repurposed, but then all traps need bait.

The nature of the company I keep is to loot, they cannot help themselves.  In the process of rifling through the putrid body parts and corpses they discovered life signs!  Lady B attempts to get my attention to investigate but my interests are not in saving the life of a failed and discarded corpse.  I had already determined what the outcome of this encounter was, a trap and I left it to Lady B to resolve.  A hideous larval creature erupted from the corpse with the intention of impaling the nearest living being.  That’s why I left Lady B deal with such trivial matters. She dealt with it.  I scanned the remains, and noted it in my extensive alien database.  These Haemonculi are certainly a busy lot, at least more directed than the Hivemind of the Tyranids.

Unknown to me at the time was that the creature was a psychic bomb and it’s death triggered a scream which drew the attention of a sentinel.  It did not help matters when the psyker in our company decided to search for the source of the incoming signal.  Elvis is fast proving to me that all the mutants on Sel Delmas must be purged for the greater safety of the universe at large.  I would say humanity, but to be honest there are wonder more deserving of continuance and letting these blue skinned maniacs out into the universe in numbers would see these marvels destroyed in the least, vandalized or looted at worst.  Getting back to the insane psyker with not the whit to master the basics of masking his psychic spore; well he drew the crabs onto us – but not before the company set of more fireworks.

Sadly one of the containers well… contained loot and as the pack rats they are (not I don’t include myself among them – I am above such trivial matters[1]) were unable to restrain their baser natures.  A slew of alien equipment was found, from Ork, Hrud[2] and Rak’gol[3].  The Hrud technology in particular Horst and I attempted to persuade Elvis from using but the belligerent bugger refuses to listen to us and I fear that in the end blows would end the issue[4].  The only thing that spared Elvis an immediate execution was the cleansing of the radiation from his body and personal equipment.  This made me more concerned as to the nature of the Hrud weaponry and backed Horsts desire to destroy the weapon even more.

It was then or thereabouts the company came under fire from a Kroot shaper.  What it was doing out here all alone I have no idea?  Was it cut off from its band? Was it just another mercenary in the employ of the Dark Eldar overlords?  Who knows, the trigger happy “diplomats” in the company decided that “negotiations” would start with a good old round of gunfire?  I think Elvis was again the offender in this engagement, trying out his new toy (hence learning his radiation salvation).  He nicely lit the top of the ruined tower, signaling to all and sundry “hey look, there is something happening here, come and investigate”.  So went any attempt of sneaking into Commorragh, but I’m sure it was never our destiny to be given that opportunity…

While the company thought the Kroot had been killed or driven off, the individuals found a number of novel and deadly rooms and corridors.  Elvis discovered the corridor of slice and dice death lasers which moved up and down the corridors once you entered them[5]. Sadly he survived that encounter, I was very sad he did not perish here.  Elsie found lots of strange sealed storage pods which proved in the end to be batteries.  Each “battery” contained the suffering lifeform of a “soul” on the last moment of a hideous and painful death.  I found two “entertaining” areas; one was a control room where the access devices/panels were too deadly to access.  Yes they inflicted or would have inflicted severe wounds had I decided to use them, I would have shuddered to think what sitting in the console chairs would have done had I chosen to do so.  The other was a corridor section which at first I thought was clear, there was no immediate danger.  I chose to send the Tau drone in first, which is just as well.  A force wall of some description slammed down – though I’ve now come to the conclusion it must have been a gravity inducer as there was no ceiling in these corridors or sensors evident.  The pressure plating, damn it, who knows the capriciousness of this place is literally driving my logic capacity to despair, even Francine is starting to note it.  The shield on the drone managed to hold just long enough for me to ascertain that the consoles in the room I left must have some functionality with the corridor.  Somehow Francine and I destroyed the consoles with little physical damage to us and the field was shut down and the drone freed.  I was muttered some dire imprecations to the warp at this stage.  Lastly I located another room with some storage containers in which I found an ornate deactivated silver cyber skull. 

While all this was going on, people were off wandering; Elvis was still being a silly bugger and playing with the warp and the psychic signal.  Lady B, who is also somewhat psychic, appeared to be playing possum…

Enter the insidious elder wraith engine constructed and twisted by the insane minds of the Dark Eldar.  If the city of Commorragh was not aware of us before they were now.  The firepower that was being exchanged was horrific.  From my position, Francine and I could only observe and wonder at the failure of our silent insertion mission.  Our “snatch and run” option was now looking like “run and hide”.  Eventually the sheer firepower which the company could dish out, took the construct down.  Yet the first of a continual stream of Dark Eldar vessels and troops continued to swamp us.  A brave and valiant attempt by Francine and I did obliterate a number of the skimmers as they approached but in the end small portals were opening and troops were entering from multiple locations.

Before the last hurrah though, there was a quick skirmish between a chaos champion and Elsie.  A rather one sided affair after the beings weapon was destroyed as it slumbered in stasis, but Elsie is more than capable of stabbing any sleeping foe without fear and remorse.  AND I found an ornate pistol which decided it wanted to be part of me.  Another insidious and capricious trap left by a vindictive godling from the warp.  Without hesitation I cut my left hand off.  At this stage my malaise had taken hold and I had given the order to retreat.  Again that capricious entity decided to play its hand and decided Eliza wanted the weapon.  Yes, don’t ask me why, I attempted to kick it out of the way only to find out that this weapon was clearly more that it was.  Mouthing dire warnings to the warp I managed to get the weapon over the edge and out of harm’s way of any others.

Our exit was closed?  The Dark Eldar were pouring in from everywhere.  The combat would have continued until everyone was dead however one of my neural links activated and I knew what had to be done.  I wasn’t happy, no way was I happy.  I knew my company was not going to like the outcome, the lost equipment in particular. However between the choice of certain death and the slim chance of life…

I communicated by voice, open communication channels and subspace.

“Gha tia''anga' Ur’kon.”

Time stopped for everyone with the exception of Elsie who spent the next two years scavenging and lurking in the underspire of Commorragh.  How that depraved piece of effluent survived I know not, it only goes to proves how much of a genius I am when it comes to crafting works of excellence.

Well I shouldn’t say time stopped for everyone.  Two years passed where we were the play things of the Haemonculi known as Ur’kon.  This depraved creature spent every moment torturing the company, learning what secrets he could from us.  Clearly the only thing my fellows could provide was their fortitude and willpower; they certainly had nothing of worth meriting their extended life.  I could only assume the suffering and agony they provided kept the foul creature well fed.  As for me, well there was the problem, which was I why I didn’t want to come here in the first place.  Francine was “boxed”[6] but she had more than enough tasks to keep herself occupied until such time as I or others freed her.  Ur’kon had a great delight in breaking down my body; he dined well that one on my despair.  Even greater was my despair when I found at the end of our separation and we were all brought together – along with three copies of me.  Each one claiming to be me – but of course each of us would say that.  The confounded look on the others when they saw four of me… priceless. Ultimately though I was again driven by despair, Ur’kon was feeding well I could see it.  His ego was swelling as I looked…

Ur’kons translator device clicked on and conveyed to us his alien words.

“Creatures, you have fed me well these last cycles. Rather than rendering you down, I give you an opportunity to earn me greater sustenance and patronage.  You will fight in the arena.  If you win, you live… you earn some rewards, not many – perhaps a release from the constant pain, like now.  If you lose, well I think you know the results of losing.  See how an identical copy of the slain original is here, oh wait there are three. I can’t even tell which the original was anymore[7]. ”

This boring and egotistical creature droned on and on about its own magnificence, how it intended to use us for its own importance. If I didn’t know better I could swear I was listening to an alien version of myself…

Like a herd of cattle ready for the slaughter the arena awaited us.  The copies and I hatched a plan settled on a plan.  We agreed that there could only be one outcome from this debacle.  Death.  We all had only one objective from the arena – cost Ur’kon so much in resources to remake us that in the end he would just cease finding amusement in sending me (and by that I me US plural) to the arena.  I was not concerned about dying here in this benighted place; after all I knew my future self and several alternate timeline operatives were out there.  I’d live on, my core knowledge was already in Francine and the coded distress signals she was sending through the Dark Eldar network would reach the right sources.  Time to upset the company by letting them think I’m a brave warrior!

I won’t bore you with the tedious boredom of the arena.  It was hack and slash.  Yes I surprised the company by my bold and suicidal leap into combat.  Sadly it seems as if the universe laughs at the perversity of cruel injustice.  If I was to have attempted what I did in the arena in what would have been previously “the call of duty” I would have more than likely been struck down and destroyed.  In the arena, I proved the fool of entertainment, fumbling and failing with the dignity of a drunk on his wedding night.  Out of all the bouts not one of my “copies” was able to kill themselves in combat, and trust me – we damn well tried.

Our final bout was against some lord’s daughter who wished to prove herself.  Apparently a lot was riding on this bout, and my knowledge of the deadliness of wyches gave me much hope of seeing one of my selves expire in the arena.  Again my hopes were dashed, and the damn wyche proved inadequate to the task, she couldn’t even pick off the weakest target in the group – ME. 

My malaise was deepening with each combat.  Fate was refusing to allow me to end my existence and escape this hell hole I had unwittingly been assigned to.  After the last battle we were brought before Ur’kon for another of his ego fueled speeches.

Instead we find that he had company.  An Archon and his retinue had paid a visit to Ur’kon. The conversation between the aliens is incomprehensible as none in the company understand the language[8] (yet).  There was the exchange of “gifts” and it was while this was happening I caught sight of the Rod secured to the waste of the Archon.  Here we were, restrained and neutered with no way of doing anything even if we could gain the sought after artifact.  Despair gripped me further as I decided to send the Alpha Omega 666 code to the copies.

Their business concluded the Dark Eldar left leaving us to the fate of Ur’kon and his monologue.

“Well, that went well.  I trust you spotted the Rod Alpharius?”

This was spoken in well modulated Imperial cant; in fact it was spoken in my voice.  This startled me, in fact it startled everyone.

“My plan worked – in a fashion, I’ve kept you alive to this point in time.  It’s all thanks to the curiosity of Ur’kon really and my genius.  If he hadn’t injected himself with my blood then this plan of mine well ours would not have worked out.  Trust me!”

With this Ur’kon/me walked over to me (yes not one of the other three copies, we all know who the original is) and we exchanged or more precisely Ur’kon/me downloaded all the data he had accumulated during his time in this place.  The data I now have, so much information and technology and as usual no time, resources or opportunity to implement any of it.
I ascertained the following information:
  • All our equipment had been taken, but Ur’kon had stockpiled it, though some has been destroyed.  My Omnissian Axe and Inferno pistol though were not part of the missing and will be waiting for me.  Some things never change.
  • Francines AI has been boxed, her robotic frame was reclaimed for alternative use.  Her AI is intact along with all back up materials and technology.  ANGUS is there as well!  Apparently it’s a noisy place.
  • Elsie is roaming the Sprawls and Low Commorragh.
  • Ur’kon had injected my blood into his veins once I had let slip the wonders of my nanotechnology.  This of course was the doom I had planned for him, it would take time as I was not too sure how swiftly the Dark Eldar blood would resist the nanotechnology.  Haemonculi are surprisingly resilient and it took some time to overcome the being.  Then the charade had to continue with torturing the company.  Though I believe I did enjoy inflicting on certain members of the company more than others…
  • Elvis now has a psychic dampener and explosive collar.  I have the codes.  That solves one problem.
  • Lady B’s suit has been severely damaged by Ur’kon’s initial experiments and none of her weapon options will initiate.  Her physiognomy has now changed into a pale skinned eldar with white hair.  This has appalled her no end, and has pleased me greatly.
  • Archon Helbam is the holder of the Rod.

Our mission now is to pose as mercenary guards in the employ of local Dark Eldar antiques dealer who has acquired a trinket which will more than pique the interest of Archon Helbam.  Sadly Rervam the trader has no idea that he has been set up, though considering this is Commorragh he should know better.  Once we have obtained the Rod, we can flee Commorragh using the webportal device I have been given.  This will deliver us to a safe “house” where our cache of armour and weapons reequipped and way to freedom secured.  Well that’s that plan – so far no plan as ever survived contact with…

+++Personal Journal+++
+++Date:[Temporal seal]+++
The fate of Ur’kon/Alpharius hybrid is recorded in the Council of ME.  Once the company had successfully left Commorragh the Haemonculi laboratory and surrounding areas were destroyed with a warp breach occurred as a result of an unstable application of a dark matter experiment.  There were no survivors or trace of his experiments for others to utilize. 
+++End Personal Journal+++

Rak’gol Dark Matter Rifle, Bandolier of Ammo, 30 per clip, 5 clips
Ork slugga (useless), choppa, armour
Stryxix aether blade, 1d10+2 E, ignores armour, blue grey blade, hums
Square, round edges object, funny looking?
Hrud Rifle (warp touched) Black Plasma draws form the warp
Deactivated ornate silver cyber skull

[1] Unless it deals with matters of technology and information.
[2] Hrud species show a bizarre, vaguely humanoid, black-eyed creature with long, segmented limbs, an exoskeleton and a mouth featuring both teeth and mandibles. Whatever their physical form, the Hrud prefer darkness and are basically scavengers and tunnel-dwellers. They are found all over the galaxy, though never in large numbers. They are considered to be parasites, and when they are referred to it is usually as "infesting" a place. (source -
[3] A xenos breed of which little is known for fact, they take the appearance of rough-hewn and irregular stone reptilids, eight-limbed and over three metres long. Chalky white in colour and mantis-like in bodily arrangement, Rak'Gol warriors favour cybernetic augmentation to increase their abilities and replace lost limbs. (source -
[4] Regrettably this did not happen due to the many interruptions that plagued us.
[5] Reminiscent of the old Sol vid Resident Evil where the computer defends itself with a laser grid.
[6] Boxed - reference to being reduced to the core AI. Usually a functioning power core and cybernetic unit, normally a boxed AI is shut down so it is unaware of the passage of time. Some individuals have been known to leave an AI active while boxed allowing the AI to perform assigned tasks.
[7] A rather useful ability I have is that of regenerating.  It is especially useful when it comes to attempts at branding me with identification marks.  I’m able to either remove it altogether or alter it to another code.  Rather handy at times when you need to impersonate someone else.
[8] I should point out that the Dark Eldar will rarely sully their tongues with base languages of aliens (though they known them), preferring to leave the menial task to translator technology when such communication is absolutely necessary.

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