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SC| Lev Zaxarevich - The effluvium of fate

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Crazy Pole
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SC| Lev Zaxarevich - The effluvium of fate

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The rank smell of hive sewers filled Lev's nose. "The smell of Volg" he thought to himself as he pulled on his pipe.
He was perched on a precariously narrow piece of metal more than a hundred meters above the level of the walkways. His back leaned on the wall of one of the tallest towers in the hive. This one, called the rust spire, controlled the water intake for the recyk processes in the vats below. He pulled on his pipe again.
"Three stories and then some" he mused "so much work for so much gelt". He knew that the only thing that protected his target were the locks in the tower base, no guards, no bio-scanners, nothing but a series of voice-code doors that allowed the system controllers to live in relative security.
With a flick of his wrist he emptied the bowl of his pipe into the air. "Time to earn my keep" he mumbled.
Hand after hand he climbed the almost sheer metal surface of the tower, all without a rope or other device to secure him.
After an eternity of searching for handholds and climbing, he reached the half-level of the tower. He clung to the shadows watching the adepts working at their workstations, their daily lives spent on controlling the filtering processes that secured Volg's survival. Too unimportant to be staffed with tech-priest the system was controlled by washouts, adepts that failed in their duties and were sent to Volg to rot away in it's corrosive atmosphere.
Checking room after room he looked for his target, the main valve operator Tetsujin, a former scribe to some noble house up in Magnagorsk.
The contract on him was high enough to evoke dreams in the mind of the average Volger, 100 Thrones in bone coin, freshly carved and not chipped, a fortune that could feed a man for a year.
And no dangers involved save for the lack of access.
He entered a small room with several large holo-displays, there was only one occupant and it was no one else but the Adept. Normally Adepts all looked alike, hunched over, thin, pale skinned and short sighted. But Tetsujin was different, he was tall and gaunt, his left eye replaced with an implant and his mouth sewn shut with steel wire. His slate gray skin reminded Lev of something but he could not put his finger on it, it didn't matter he thought as he aimed for the man's head with his pistol. He pulled the trigger and heard the silenced sound of a bullet leaving his gun, the adepts head exploded in a gory fountain as his brain splattered on the display.
"And that's that my dead friend" he said more to himself than to anyone. But the adept didn't fall, he merely turned to face the assassin.
"What in Throne's name?!?" Lev pulled the trigger several times pumping the adept with lead. "Die already you fuck!!"
The man lumbered forward raising his thin arms to strike, the room filled with a smell of rotting flesh and discharge.
The gun clicked informing Lev that he ran out of bullets. He dropped it and pulled his saber out. "You won't get me."
The abomination swung his arm hitting Lev in the face with a hand. Luckily there was no strength behind the hit, but it was insulting enough.
"I'm going to chop your arms off and piss into your neck!" he shouted as he cut with his saber into the left side of the adept.
After some wild parries ha managed to bring down the monstrosity. Then he registered the smell that permeated the room and graciously thrown the remains of his breakfast onto his boots.

----------------------------------------

It was a back room in some unnamed dive in the lower hive. He stretched his boots on the table, his new boots, since the coin came through for the Adept's death. He pulled on the pitcher of fungus ale and enjoyed the taste. "I could get used to this."
The door creaked and a robed man entered the room, he was the man who ordered Tetsujin's death and he had some answer's for Lev.
"So you are the man that I should thank for my new fortune..." Lev eyed him and as he spoke, "but I won't since no normal man can take a bullet to his head and keep on going."
"You are right." The man's voice was artificial and grating, he pulled his hood down to reveal himself. Lev almost fell over as he saw the face of his benefactor. Instead of a nose and a mouth the man had a mass of cables, filters and vocalizers, his head was shaved and on his forehead he had an ominous tattoo in the form of a series of numbers.
"96.XXXIX.05" Lev looked at the man and tried to make a connection. Finally it hit him, when he was a ganger he fought with an armed intervention of the imperial guard, nothing big just a food riot, the governor sent a penal legion to deal with it and while the numbers on their heads were different he knew that the man standing before him was a penal legionnaire.
"So the Imperial Guard has an interest in wayward adepts? I'm surprised." He tried to put up an act of confidence but failed as the man across the room unnerved him.
"You know what I was? My master will be pleased, but no I'm not part of the Guard, though I was before. I serve a greater power now."
"And what power is that, you were saying?"
"The Inquisition" the guardsman pulled his cloak away showing an ornate carapace armor, a chainsword and a gold plated bolt pistol. From his left pauldron hung the inquisitorial rosette. Lev came crashing down as his balance was disturbed by the implications of his situation. "Do not fear me assassin, I'm here to congratulate you. You passed my master's test."
The Guardsman pulled his hood over the head. "Welcome to the rest of your life, Lev Zaxarevich."
The August and Sagacious Decadent Dynasty-Toppling Devil

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Re: SC| Lev Zaxarevich - The effluvium of fate

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"So what was this Adept? Why was killing him so important?" Lev sat behind a table in a cabin set aside for the group he was traveling with.
"We don't really know." The man sitting behind him eyed his hand of cards while grinning.
"So you do know but you're not allowed to tell me, right?" Lev picked the Knight of Quills and threw it onto the discard pile.
"You're good, you would make a fine servant at my estate." The man dealt a card to Lev.
"If you had one." Lev said as he looked at his hand. The new card, a Five of Guns, completed his Emperor's Fist. "I think you're done here." He threw the cards down to show the noble that he won.
"Oh I do have one, in fact I will one day return to it to stuff my father's mouth with tales of my deeds under the inquisitor. Until then I'm a noble wastrel."
"Another hand?"
"Gladly." Lev mixed the cards and dealt them out, after looking at them he cursed and filled his pipe.
"That good, eh?" The noble moved the cards in his hand. "I'll take three."
Lev dealt the cards and looked at his hand again. Normally high cards were good, but he couldn't do shit with a Provost Marshal, Ecclesiarch, Lord Commander Militant, Cardinal and Paternoval Envoy. Getting a Crusade would be a long shot, but he couldn't do anything else.
"I'll take, two." He dropped the Envoy and the Cardinal and drew. The first card was the Abbess Sanctorum, which meant that he only needed one card for the Crusade. The second was the eight of swords meaning he drew short of the whole hand.
"I'll raise you." The noble dropped a few coins into the middle. "And I'll pass." Lev threw the cards down.
"Playing you is fun, but soon I won't be able to afford anything." Lew pulled at his pipe.
"If you say so, but remember why you are here." The man made a flourish with his hand. "You travel with us for safety, since you never left Volg before, but when we are there you'll be paired up with a team like ours."
"My own team?" Lev pulled hard at the pipe, making the smoke a bit more juicy in his mouth.
"No, our master's team with you inside. Though one of you will be the primus." The man put the cards into a leather pouch.
"Primus, what's that?" He exhaled a cloud of smoke.
"That's the guy in nominal charge of the team, the guy who makes the reports. Ours is the psyker, since he has the most experience." Another smile. "I'm qualified too but it's a bother."
"Why?"
"Well, the primus makes the decisions and needs to stand tall and proud if he fails. When a primus fails the whole team is in danger. But there are upsides to this. The primus also gets promoted more often or gains the master's trust, but it's different from inquisitor to inquisitor."
"Sounds like nothing for me." Lev stroked his mustache.
"That's the spirit my whiskered friend, don't stand out from the masses."

--------------
Emperor's Fist - low arcana straight flush made either of Swords or Guns. Beats a straight flush of Quills and Prayers.
Crusade - high arcana set of five cards made out from the Inquisitorial Representative, Abbess Sanctorum, Ecclesiarch, Grand Provost Marshal, Grand Master of the Assassinorum, Chapter Master, or the Lord Commander Militant. Beats anything but the Council of Lords and the Emperor Ascendant.
Council of Lords - Set of five high arcana cards made of Master of the Administratum, Ecclesiarch, Fabricator-General, Lord Commander Militant, and the Captain-General. Second highest card set.
Emperor Ascendant - Highest set made out of the Emperor and the Masters of Swords, Guns, Quills and Prayers. Beats everything.
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Re: SC| Lev Zaxarevich - The effluvium of fate

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10 years ago.

"Reload!" "Vickers point that gun elsewhere!" "And the Emperor's gaze lies upon you soldiers of the Imperium! Do your duty and serve him well in life and in death!"

"Fuck..." Lev looked at the open breech of his shotgun, one of the shells failed to ignite properly and was jammed inside the gun. Ha pulled his knife and ignored the battle around him to remove the plastic casing from the gun. ‘Plonk!’ The shell gave in and fell from the barrel. He put new shells into the shotgun and looked around. “Not a second too soon, eh?” The Penal Legionnaires were closing in, and his gang was more than outmatched. A sentinel rumbled forward disgorging jets of liquid flame. “And like that it's time to go” he turned and ran towards the back. “The rest of the gang can kick the bucket, but I ain’t going out like that.” The only answer he got was the scream of dying people.
“That's what you get when trying to force the Imperium to feed you.” He ran a bit slower now, it was doubtful the guard units would enter the vats, but one never knew. Plus, a slip here and he would fall into a huge smooth-walled container filled with shit and toxic sludge.
He took a quick look around and noticed that the fighting dimmed a bit. “A lucky break, nothing more.” He had a handful of shells for his shotgun, his knife and what he wore. It was still better than dead but not much so.
He ran the corner and saw why the guard wasn’t shooting at anyone here. A dead commissar in his red and black uniform lay sprawled on the walkway, a bit farther away he could hear screams above the constant hum of pumps. Female screams.
He looked at the body before him, the man’s uniform was torn into oblivion but he still clutched a sword in his hand and a laspistol in the other. “The first I can use, the other sell.” He quickly scavenged the weapons and in less than a minute he wore the dead commissar’s sword at his hip.
Moving forward he found the source of the screams, some pale skinned ‘penals’ were raping a group of girls with lustful abandon. He counted eight men and five women, “girls” he corrected himself, not a single one was older than fifteen. “If I fight I may die, if I go then they will not stop here.” It looked grim “Emperor give me strength to do the right thing.”
Five of the guardsmen were busy and the three other were not looking his way. The first turned into a blood mist after receiving a shotgun shell into his unarmored chest. Number two and three stood too close to each other, the second and last shell took care of them.
Pants pulled down the other five had no chance, two went down clubbed with his gun, which broke on the scull of number five. The last three tried to grab their guns but failed, the commissar’s sword dispatched them quickly. “Aaaargh!” He screamed.
The five girls huddled together, shocked by the rape and sudden demise of their tormentors. He knew he couldn't protect them, even if he tried he would fail, there were too many predators trying to profit from the food riot. They would be lucky if enslaved and sold as slaves. Ruefully he picked up one of the autoguns lying around, it still had almost all bullets inside. He pointed it towards the girls and pulled the trigger, the gun jerked and spew death towards them. They jerked and all fell dead onto each other. “Emperor grant you mercy and salvation, little ones. Even if he has none for me.”
He looted the bodies of the guardsmen, their guns were crude, beat up Alcher MkIV’s. But they would fetch a nice price if sold, plus between them they had enough supplies and ammo to provide for him for at least a week or more. He thrown the bodies of the penal legionnaires into a vat of liquid crap. The bodies of the girls went into a vat of acid, each had a throne in her mouth, to pay for their passage to Terra.
“Rest in peace.”
The August and Sagacious Decadent Dynasty-Toppling Devil

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Re: SC| Lev Zaxarevich - The effluvium of fate

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Five years ago


{Platzhalter}
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Re: SC| Lev Zaxarevich - The effluvium of fate

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One year ago

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Re: SC| Lev Zaxarevich - The effluvium of fate

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Characteristics
Name - Lev Zaxarevich
Career - Assassin
Rank - 3 (Nighthawk)
Age - 31
Divination - If a job is worth doing, it is worth dying for
Quirk - Electoo
Career Memento - Carved Animal Tooth
Home World Memento - Small length of Chain
Home World - Volg Hive/Fenksworld
Gender - Male
Build - Scrawny
Height - ~1,70m
Skin - Stained Fair
Hair - Black
Eye - Blue
Weight - 55

Attributes:
Weapon Skill- 30 (*---)
Ballistic Skill- 42 (*---)
Strength- 27 (----)
Toughness- 32 (----)
Agility- 34 (*---)
Intelligence- 30 (*---)
Perception- 35 (----)
Willpower- 32 (----)
Fellowship- 20 (----)

Miscellaneous:
Wounds - 10
Fate Points - 1
Insanity Points - 5
Corruption Points - 0
Mutations - Nil
XP Remaining - 50
XP Spent - 2050
Handedness - Right, right?

Trained Skills:
-Acrobatics
-Awareness
-Climb
-Common Lore (Imperial Creed)
-Concealment
-Dodge +10
-Drive (Ground Vehicles)
-Intimidate
-Speak (Low Gothic)
-Speak (Volg Hive Dialect)
-Shadowing

Talents:
-Melee Weapon Training (Primitive)
-Thrown Weapon Training (Primitive)
-Basic Weapon Training (SP, Las)
-Pistol Training (SP)
-Heightened Sense (Sight, Hearing)
-Sound Constitution x1
Unremarkable, Frenzy, Jaded, Light Sleeper, Catfall, Mighty Shot,

Throne Gelt:
Monthly - 144g
Current - 290g
Times Paid - 4

Current Equipment:
Armor - Flak Cloak (AP 3, ALL)

Weapons:
- Westingkrup Salvator Pattern (Stub Automatic) (74 Bullets)
--Silencer
- MkVI Whirlwind Pattern (Autogun) (460 Bullets)
--Silencer, Telescopic Sight, Fire Selector
- 3x Frag Grenades
- Volgite Tearer (Sabre)
- Knife
- 2x Armsman-10 Pistol

Gear:
Stimm (3 doses)
Charm
Chrono
Field Sack
Ammo Storage
Pipe + Tobacca
Micro-Bead
Clip Harness
Recaf
Clothing (Average Quality)
Clothing (Good Quality)
The August and Sagacious Decadent Dynasty-Toppling Devil

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