Necromunda Queen's Dome Turf Wars 4: Rebuilding

Jacob Dryearth

Gang Hero
Sep 6, 2016
838
936
103
Sons of Vargus Chapter 5
Caban was keeping the crew together the best he could after their recent string of losses in battle. “The Emperor tests us all from time to time” he oft repeated. Snood’s death had hit everyone hard, he was always there to keep spirits up by buying another round of bottom shelf, or taking everyone out to the Rat Fights.

But now was no time to sulk about the dead, the Sons of Vargus were surrounded by sneaking shadows calling themselves The Hallowed Revenants. The Cawdor had waltzed into Myers Pit to announce their intentions to bring the settlement into the light of their protection when the lumens, ironically enough, started going out sporadically around the market square. Nervous settlers and gangers both began jumping at shadows. Suddenly, a slender figure in a longcoat rolled out from behind a stack of crates to spray Zorick with a webber. The tenacious Cawdor ducked the majority of the binding goo, and returned fire with his combi-flamer illuminating the darkened tunnels to reveal a cadre of cloaked conspirators concealed in the cover of collapsed corridors. The sudden violence incited pandemonium among the hivers, some fleeing in panic, or standing slack-jawed and wide-eyed, others drawing guns and firing wildly at Delaque and Cawdor alike! The assaulting Delaque ganger ducked the torrent of flames, and jumped back into cover as bullets went flying in all directions.

Over by the western access tunnel, Bort and Tumn were perched on either side of a door which was slightly cracked. “Whatcha see young one?” whispered Bort. “Real dark in der, but I count at least 3, and some locals that wuz stacking promethium barrels ‘til the lights went out. They’s discussin’ something wit’ the Revenants...and… wha?! One of ‘em just started floatin’!” gawked the juve. “Witch!” snarled Bort in disgust, “promethium barrels eh? Leave this to me!” Bort poked his long rifle through the crack in the door and fired one of his special rounds into the promethium barrels, which erupted in flames dousing the whole corridor in holy cleansing flame!

At that same time, back over in the market square, a stand-off had developed between the two gangs. Both sides were using hivers as human shields, not wanting to be the ones to harm hivers they intended to extort/protect. “Just walk away, you don’t want this to turn ugly!” shouted Caban. “You first!’ replied a bald headed creep from the shadows. Just then the explosion in the access tunnel, and the screaming hivers caught in the flames, prompted another bout of wild shooting. As the smoke cleared the Delaque were nowhere to be seen, vanishing as quickly as they had arrived.

After the fight, as Caban was trying to explain the shootout to the locals, his attention was diverted by a collective gasp from the victorious Cawdor. Caban turned to see a familiar figure casually walking into town. It was Snood, back from the dead! His skin was burnt badly, he was bald, and slightly limping. He was breathing heavily into an archaic looking rebreather. Lights flickered from the device, and glowing orange and green liquid coursed through a tangle of tubes sprouting from the device and winding down into his robes. “What’s wrong? You all look like you’ve just seen a ghost.”
 
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Jacob Dryearth

Gang Hero
Sep 6, 2016
838
936
103
Sons of Vargus Chapter 6
“Outlawed, just like that eh?” snorted Bort. “That was the spore that broke the servitors back, a couple hivers got roasted? The unbelievers of the Guilds worship their gilt more than the Emperor! Since when do they care so much about a couple of locals?”

“It ain’t so much them locals they care for… Myers Pit was resistin’ the Guilders. Have their own lil’ black markets, self sufficient underhiver types, yeah? So now the Guilders got an excuse to move in and root out th’ competition. Thank Tumn for that, the traitorous sump slug!” Caban spat into the fire barrel the Cawdors were huddled around, the gang nodding in agreement with him as an angry muttering dispersed through them. Tumn had disappeared shortly after Snood returned, he went and squealed to the powers that be about the dust-up in Myers Pit, and about Snood's mysterious resurrection. “And, I’m sure our brother Snood’s miraculous recovery spooked a few folks…” Caban trailed off. The Resurrected, as he had become known, was staring at him. It wasn’t threatening, but a little unnerving. The details of Snood’s ordeal were not clear, and he wasn’t talking much these days, no longer the gregarious old Snood since his return.

“We need to stake a claim among the other outlaws, let ‘em know we mean business." Caban continued. "We’ll hit The New Black tomorrow. They’re trying to control the narco distribution round ‘ere, but we got better uses for that stuff. The Flock need their fixes, we can make sure they get it.” There were no arguments about that, dealing with the Narco Lords was a necessity for hive life; the pain, stress, and diseases caused by billions of human souls laboring away in a giant ant hill required their remedies.

“Once we get established out 'ere in the Badzones, we can get down to rootin’ out them vile cults been hidin’ in the shadows. Maybe gettin’ outlawed was the greatest gift we coulda' received?” The others rejoiced at Caban’s words, he had really stepped up from reluctant leader to inspiring figurehead lately.

After the others had dispersed, Caban approached the scarred man sitting quietly off to the side cleaning his stub pistol with anointed oils. “You gonna tell me now what happened?”

“Not much I can recall,” shrugged Snood, his voice filtered through a staticy vox in his archaic rebreather. “Washed up on some sump island. There wuz people, clicking, whiring, mechanical type folks. Priests of Mars I reckon. Said I had more work to do. Said the Ommnisiah was watchin'. Hooked me up with this device pumping goo into me. Said it’d keep me goin' for a bit longer. Ferried me to a holestead on the edge of the sump after patchin’ me up. The hivers there said it was The Ragmen that'd saved me. Said the creepy kooks mostly kept to 'emselves, traded once in a while, sometimes 'elped out with repairs or clearin’ out sump vermin. Said they accepted archeotech and trinkets, but no credits. That’s the whole story, so now I’m this.” Snood stood up and gestured to himself. What little skin was showing underneath his filthy garments was charred and burnt, and that ever-present archeotech device masked his face.

Caban sat for a long time processing what he had just heard. Eventually he responded, "so what do you plan on doing now, with this second chance ya got?"

The Resurrected took a heavy drag of the vapors created for him to subsist on before replying: "not sure, but I know a certain Van Saar that needs answerin’ for what she done to me.”
 
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HaploNate

New Member
Jul 11, 2018
7
10
13
US
MRK: Peach's Roughnecks
Act 6: Hunting Horrors


The horror stood in the middle of a large room, surrounded by crates of corrupted arceotech it had been collecting. She? Was hard to look at. The Arbites claimed she was once one of their own, a gas-addict who had been killed in a battle with those Cawdor lunatics. It was hard to recognize the human in her anymore though. Waves of ghostly tendrils wafted around her, constantly obscuring a clear look. But even when they occasionally cleared, the rotting, puss-filled skin of the near-corpse made identification near impossible.

“This bitch is mine!” Joie said, bringing the las-carbines on her new arachni rig to bear and unleashing a torrent of las fire that thundered into abomination, dropping it to the ground. It lay there moaning only a few moments longer before a shot from the Arbites finished it off.

“Thank you kindly for the help!” Peach called out to their allies. “We can take care of the clean-up”

“Out of the question!” The leader of the arbiter squad backed back. “The Emperor claims these corrupted goods for the sake of the hive.”

“Yes, but they are much to dangerous for you,” Peach countered, “we can safely get them out the way.”

“Nonsense, we are protected by the Emperor’s will and it dictates that those goods belong to us!” The stubborn commander continued.

“You have a warrant for them then?” Peach tried, these types were always about their paperwork.

“I am the warrant!” Bellowed the meathead. But as he said this the remains of the horror began to shake, before exploding into a cloud of vapors that quickly expanded out through the halls, accompanied by a gitterning scream. Sparks flew from the Arbite’s machines and Peach saw one of her juves turn and run screaming into a darkened hallway. Then motion behind her caught her eye and she dropped to the ground as Goss began screaming about being surrounded and opened fire at her!

“f**k,” she muttered into the cold metal decking, “Its going to be one of those days…”