COMPLETED: Something's rotten in Scotland...

[GM Nick]

The team reaches the front door--an ornate number carved from mahogany, reinforced with plasteel beams and affixed with a military-grade biometric locking device.

[John]

Max smacks at the lock with the butt of his shotgun and says,

"Any magic user here want to just rip this thing off its hinges instead?"

[Stephen]

An AR window manifests in Val's vision as he scans the lock, attempting to determine the potency of its firewall and scan program.

[Elliott]

Tyros' moves determinedly with the group, one hand holding his sword and the other raised and ready to counterspell any magical threats.

"Dragesh, I doubt we will ever be friends, but for the time being we are comrades in arms and as such we much count on each other's cooperation. Anything that comes between us and justice for our master, we will meet together."

[GM Nick]

(( Firewall 6, Scan 6. ))

[Conway]

"I dont suppose they' would've left any windows open, would they?" Sinjin remarks, eying the threatening grey skies whose propensity for rain and bone chilling drafts of air would make such an oversight more than unlikely.

His gaze returns to the damp stone building, eyeing the centuries old masonry with its blotchy complexion of various mosses and acid pitted, hand cut blocks of granite. A smile adorns his face as he stands there, momentarily impressed by the accomplishments of men in a time before pre-fab ferrocrete, rebar, and the slow decline of human craftsmanship.

"We could always try knocking..." he kids, eyeing the heavy wrought iron knob and knocker that adorn the center of the door, a vestigial piece of decor from previous centuries.

[Stephen]

Val whistles softly through his teeth. He begins to shake his head, but stays the reflex. FRSR didn't take him on without a reason, and he's not about to start letting them forget what reason it was. He opens his mouth to speak before he can change his mind.

"That's some serious hardware. I'm going in for a closer look. If smoke starts billowing out my ears you'll know it's time for Plan B."

Immediately regretful, Val runs his Stealth and Armor programs, closes his eyes, and drops into hot-sim VR.

A chaotic vortex of shadow swirls into existence in matrix space and coalesces into the eerily motionless silhouette of something not-quite-human, its not-quite-face upturned toward the glow of the biometric device node which hovers just above and before him. Stat1C5hade reaches up and places his hands on the shimmering golden field and bows his head like a monk in prayer. Dark ripples of crimson worm their way from under his palms through the glittering shell of the firewall, marring the superficial beauty its sculptors had intended it to hold. The 5hade smirks invisibly. He is something of a sculptor himself, never mind that most who encounter his work tend not to appreciate it. Everywhere the ruby stain spreads, lines of code atrophy to shorter and shorter segments, dripping in slow-motion off the once-golden shell like drying blood from an old and festering wound.

((I'd like to use 1 edge to buy 2 extra dice. I think all dice in this roll are also subject to the Rule of Six. ))

[GM Nick]

(( We've kind of house rule'd out rule of six, but I'll include the edge dice. ))

Stealth Program (Val)

[Hacking (6) + Exploit (6) = 3]
3 5 4 4 4 6 4 2 3 4 6 1

Hack on the Fly Test (Val)

[Hacking (6) + Exploit (6) + Hot Sim (2) + Codeslinger (2) + Edge (2) = 7]
6 1 6 6 2 4 2 3 2 4 6 6 6 1 2 6 3 2

Scan Program

[Scan (6) + Firewall (6) = 1]
2 2 2 1 2 2 4 1 6 3 1 2

Val successfully registers a service account without being detected by the program's advanced firewall software.

[Stephen]

Shards of russet- and ruby-hued data explode into the node interior as Stat1C5hade blasts through the brittle firewall. Ravaged bits of firewall code run down the avatar's exterior like rivulets of rain off an obsidian blade as he floats silently through the node, finally encountering a column of biometric data files. The column's link to the biometric data input of the lock control module serves as a beacon to guide him to his quarry. He approaches the module and extends a too-slender finger, which disappears into the module as if it were made of smoke. He injects an override script into the subroutine, and awaits the result. Microseconds later he senses, rather than sees, the lock disengage.

He withdraws his hand from the module and prepares to take his leave, but Val's caution crests the surface of the 5hade's consciousness. He takes a moment to edit the access log erasing any evidence of his passing. There are few things he wants less than to be tracked down for a careless hack job, and nothing he wants less than to piss off a bunch of Awakened with access to military grade equipment. Satisfied he's done the best he can do with the access log, the 5hade disintegrates into the shadows, ceasing to be until the next time he is summoned.

A sly smile creeps onto Val's face just as his eyes flutter open. He straightens his back and gestures toward the door with a sweeping flourish and a bow as he addresses Dragesh and the team.

"Apres vouz."

Val's sly smile quickly transitions into a drek-eating grin. He just can't fragging help it.

(( Lol! I can see why we nixed the Rule of Six after that hacking roll. As always, if I've overstepped a critical roll, let me know and I'll edit. ))

[GM Nick]

The door opens silently as thousands of nuyen worth of micro-servos adjust to compensate for the momentum of its bulk. A vast and empty great room stretches beyond.

[Elliott]

"Let's get this done with."

Tyros takes the lead, invisible as he is to the naked eye, and marches with purpose into the mansion.

[John]

Max follows closely behind the murderous troll.

[GM Nick]

The team--Tyros leading--passes through a long corridor inhabited by suits of polished armor, perhaps worn at some point by Tyros' ancestors. From initial reconnaissance, there doesn't appear to be anyone in the manor.

Passing by a window, Max can hear the dull thump of rotor-craft blades approaching from a distance.

[John]

The elf peers hard out the window while reporting to the team,

"We've got a chopper incoming. Looks like we're finally getting to the bloody part of this vacation."

[GM Nick]

Dragesh turns after trying a door knob.

"This one's locked... old fashioned kind of lock, too..."

[John]

Max steps away from the window and up to the door, and says, "Luckily I've got an old fashioned kind of key," as he hoists the business end of Marlowe, trains it on the lock, and fires.

[Elliott]

Lock blasted, Tyros moves up besides Max and kicks the erstwhile barred door open and proceeds inside.

"Keep your eyes peeled for secret doors and the like. Old manors like these can be full of them."

[Conway]

Sinjin's eyes light up at Tyros' suggestion of secrets to be discovered.

"Now wouldn't that be exciting!"

Following behind the invisible troll, his outstretched fingers pass lightly over the walls with expert cleverness, patrolling the seams and joints of finely carved antique woodwork and masonry as they make their way further into the keep. Whistling softly, albeit tunelessly, his imagination ambles alongside him, richly inventing the lives and histories of noble families and the treasures they may have hid here.

[GM Nick]

The hallway beyond the antique door is dark, composed of mossy flagstones and mildew. Dragesh creeps forward, a single candle flame worth of of light springing from his finger tip. Crammed in like sardines, the Firestarter employees make their way through the dank passage, following many twists and turns and eventually easing down a circular stairwell.

"Keep sharp, lads. I've got a bad feeling about this."

[Conway]

Pausing at the top of the stairwell, Sinjin tweaks the filters and channel amplification of his audio enhancers, attempting to "see" around the bends aurally and listen for any signs of hostiles below.

[John]

Max's lowlight eyes see perfectly by the faint glow cast by the candle, and the elf proceeds confidently ahead behind Marlowe leading point for him.

[GM Nick]

As the group approaches what must be the bottom of the curling, claustrophobic stair, Sinjin's ears pick up what appears to be chanting.

[Elliott]

Sensing the team is reaching their destination, Tyros whispers quietly, "I think we're getting close. When it comes to it, be ready, but I'd like to speak with whoever is behind all this before we execute them if possible."

[GM Nick]

The stairwell ends at last and opens into some kind of mushroom cellar. The floor has long since lost a battle with lichen and mildew. Flagstone arches are interspersed throughout the chamber. Torchlight emanates from the corners, casting a flickering glow over a group of six robed and hooded figures standing around a circle of arcane symbols, made from what appears to be red wax. Their heads are bowed and they chant a low, rumbling string of indecipherable words.

[Elliott]

Tyros watches the group for half a heartbeat in astral vision. Preparing himself for any counterattack (prep counterspelling), he reaches out one invisible hand (centering) towards whoever appears to be leading the chant and delivers gently into his mind (mind probe, f4, looking for anything and everything he knows about Darius' death).

[Drew Buddy]

Adams stays crouched in the shadows, not wanting to betray his position.

In the low light, Tyros appears to be concentrating on something, and Adams knows better than to disrupt that. He hovers his finger over the trigger of the grenade launcher, and waits.

[GM Nick]

Tyros' spell bounces off of a field around the mages and sizzles against the stone wall.

The hooded monks cease their chanting and turn, in unison. One of them removes his hood to reveal gaunt features and a crop of silver hair.

"Rehnquist," hisses Dragesh.

"Indeed."

Rehnquist's eyes are black as midnight. His words echo strangely, as if another voice is speaking just a moment before him.

"I wondered how long it would take Darius' lackeys to track me down."

[Elliott]

Tyros switched to astral vision as he examines the men in front of him and the spells and wards they have protecting them. Rare is it that Tyros' spells are so casually knocked aside, and it makes the big troll both angry and cautious. This is the moment he has been waiting for and justice is at hand.

Tyros' ghostly voice echoes through the chamber, "So you admit your involvement in my master's death already. I promise you a quick death if you confess your crimes and tell us why you murdered Darius."

[GM Nick]

Rehnquist raises his arm, revealing a freshly cauterized stump where his wrist ought to be.

"You have fortuitous timing. We have just finished the ritual to manifest Zhiago. I've promised him souls to feast upon, and here you are."

Dragesh cracks his knuckles--his centering gesture, from what Tyros can recall--and glowers at the group of robed figures.

"Answer him, Rehnquist! Why kill Darius?"

[GM Nick]

"I began dabbling in blood rituals long ago, while you were still sucking from your mother's teat. The power is immense--beyond your comprehension and the puny parlor tricks that the Order can perform. Darius and I were childhood friends. He chose one path, I chose another. That should've been the end of it, but... he was always so self-righteous. When I refused to give up the blood arts, Darius made it his personal mission to find a way to prevent Zhiago from ever entering our world. To his credit, he almost accomplished it... A spirit, however, is very motivated when someone is trying to revoke their freedoms. The spirit aided me in an advanced illusion spell which gained me access to the Order's headquarters, where I summoned Zhiago so that he could perform the deed."

Dragesh snarls and hurls a plume of green flame at Rehnquist, but it's batted aside like a troublesome insect.

[GM Nick]

Rehnquist smiles and raises his arm. Instead of a stump, a thin hand with pale gray flesh adorns it. Zhiago!

[GM Nick]

Tyros feels a faint tingling sensation in the back of his head.

(( PM'd. ))

[John]

Max, who has stood and observed the exchange for several moments now, has had plenty of this creepy spirit drek. Raising his weapon, the elf goes to fire at Rehnquist, but withdraws his attack at the last moment as Tyros begins to speak.

[Elliott]

((John, I think you mean Rehnquist - Dragesh is on our side last I checked.))

Tyros has to blink a few times as he processes the information. Zhiago brought permanently manifest into the world is about as scary a thought as the troll could conceive. Blood magic has long been something Tyros read about, considering it solely on an intellectual level with little expectation of actually encountering it. Stories of its power swirl around his mind forming a parade of facts and possibilities. Rehnquist/Zhiago's manipulation of the mana in the room is stunning. The mastery of magic goes beyond what Tyros would have previously considered possible.

Darius was murdered by this man-spirit so that the demon could be loosed freely and forever in the mundane world. If Tyros' master was unable to stop Zhiago, he knows his chances of doing so are very slim indeed. Even in death, however, Darius was not fully defeated. He left a clue for those that would take up his mission should he fail, as he knew Tyros would, and that edge might just be enough to see Darius' quest fulfilled and justice served.

Tyros takes a few steps towards Rehnquist/Zhiago and raises his claymore into a ready position, his stance aggressive, leering almost. Tyros' will hums audibly through the sword as the troll begins to infuse himself, and by extension his weapon, with mana. Tyros drinks the mana in like a man dying of thirst who suddenly finds a well, filling himself to capacity and then seizing more. Warnings and fears register faintly in the back of his mind, but now is not the time for caution. Tyros know he has but one chance here and he must impress the spirit or that sliver of an opportunity will be lost.

"And you think that simply because you killed Darius, you have somehow won? Silly little spirit. Darius was my teacher, but I surpassed him in every way possible long ago. Your murder of him ranks among the lowest of achievements. Come Zhiago, let the world see if you are truly great and face me in your true form instead of hiding behind your lackeys!"

Tyros launches himself into astral space, his physical body locked in stance for a short time by the magic coursing through it. Astral Tyros, armed, armored and radiating mana, strides forward towards the spirit, glowing blade raised before him.

[Stephen]

Standing at the rear of the team, Val watches what transpires with trepidation. The scene that the they disturbed is something out of a nightmare for a skittish, mundane decker such as himself. But the depth of determination in Tyros' voice is clear, the bravery in his advance unquestionable, and the power... Mundane though he may be, Val can almost feel the very air become electrified as Tyros gathers his focus, and a faint wave of vertigo washes over him--either real or imagined, Val cannot say--as Tyros projects into a world Val will never know.

Val feels his grip on the cold steel of his rifle become slightly steadier, each ragged breath comes a little more evenly, and his fear is joined--if not vanquished--by a quality quite foreign to Val. The corner of his mouth twitches into a smile as he draws bravery from the image of the huge troll calmly hefting his claymore and closing his eyes amidst the cultists arrayed all around him.