Your master is High Inquisitor Azarach, a stalwart servant of the Ordo Xenos. Upon his ship, the Wrath of the Righteous, you travel from world to world in the Calixis Sector, hunting down the alien, and those who would consort with their unclean kind.

He is a fair man, but harsh and uncompromising. Talk amongst the older members of his band is of a family, dead at the hands of Eldar pirates. His hatred burns fiercest towards the pointy-eared abominations and all who would collude with them. Azarach expects all loyal servants of the Emperor to adhere closely to the law- And as an Inquisitor, his desires are as good as the word of Law. All those who stand in the way of the Inquisition are enemies who deserve naught but destruction and punishment.

Your current mission takes you above the skies of Scintilla, capital world of the Calixis sector. Troubling reports from the Adeptus Arbites on this world speak of some sort of Xenos-tech making big waves in the black markets of the under-hives. As you all know, alien technology is a hideous abomination in the eyes of Mankind, unblessed and unconscecrated by the Adeptus Mechanicus. From simple-looking tools to horrendous alien weapons, NO piece of Xenos-technology should be allowed to pollute the worlds of the Imperium.

As a probationary cell of inquisitorial agents, you have been given your first assignment: Known traffickers of Xenos technology have been known to meet and trade in a drinking/gambling establishment known as The Harlequin's Kiss. Inquisitor Azarach wants the bar shut down and all suspects apprehended and interrogated immediately.

You will land your shuttle at the Tricorn, the Inquisitorial Fortress. Azarach has put one of his assault craft at your disposal, but the rest of the operation he leaves up to you.

The bar is one of a trillion exactly like it, a shithole, home to loud music and louder patrons, piss poor liquor and dark corners. The bartender glowers at the obvious outworlders as they come in, and numerous people inside the bar give you an evil glance as you walk in.

Bartender- Dax

Loud Drunk- Ortho

furtive woman in the corner- Dacia

Four PDF troopers (all stats are 30, 8 wounds, autoguns)

Six Bar Patrons (All stats are 25, 8 wounds, blades and auto-pistols)

A search of the bar and its' patrons will yield the four autoguns, 8 autopistols, some dozen different blades, 8d100, liquor, a few dozen semi-heretical tracts and novels, and...

Two different devices. If someone searches and rolls a 10 or less, the find a small puzzle box, aproximately 25cmx25cmx50cm. It is covered in strange runes and patterns that don't look imperial to you. If anyone took forbidden lore:xenos you can tell it's of eldar manufacture. You are unable to open it, and it is resistant to small arms fire. (close examination or prolonged handling calls for a WP test. Failure = corruption points)

The second is a disk-like device of unknown purpose and origin. It has a reflective surface in the center, almost like a view-screen, but without any recognizable buttons or interfaces.

If the players manage to take Dax, Ortho or Dacia alive, they will Probably manage to extract the information leading them to the beast pits in Hive Zone RF-697.

SESSION 2Further discussion of Scintilla, capital world of the entire Calixis Sector.Two main hives, Hive Sibellus (The capital city, contains the Tricorn and the seat of government, including the Astra Telephathicus temples and the main Cathedrals.) The other hive is Tarsus, half as large as Sibellus, but with the planetary starport in geosynchronous orbit above, it is the center of trade on the planet, and is also home to the planet's military forces. Two smaller hives, Gunmetal City and Ambulon, a massive walking city. Etc.

Last time, on Dark Heresy...

The party, a crack team of Inquisitorial operatives, has been deployed to the sector capital of Scintilla by their master to track down the source of a number of Xenos artifacts that have been polluting this world of the Imperium.

The only starting lead was The Harlequin's Kiss, a seedy, down-hive bar where known traffickers of Xenos-tech had been spotted. You put the bar out of operation and captured two suspects for interrogation, Dax the bartender, and Mathias, a man indicated by Orthos as a trafficker of alien goods. (Orthos was the loud drunk cooperating with your investigation, until he was gunned down by PDF troopers apparently on the order of Mathias.)

After snapping picts of the deceased suspects and setting fire to the establishment, you made good your escape by Valkyrie and returned to the Tricorn, headquarters of all Inquisitorial activity in the sector. As your craft touches down on the landing pad, a quartet of Inquisitorial stormtroopers in maroon and black livery snap to attention by the hangar door, and a minor functionary steps forward with a data-slate.

Lord Ulrich sends his greetings, welcomes you to Scintilla, and would have you know that the South Wing of level 108 has been put at your disposal. Private sleeping quarters, a training chamber, interrogation rooms and an arms-locker. Secure Vox codes to the Adeptus Arbites section houses and to local enforcers are on this data-slate, as well as to our own emergency response teams. If you have any other needs or specific requests, please let us know.

There are a number of armories and dining halls throughout the Tricorn, though food can be sent up to you if you require solitude. There are services in the Chapel morning and night. All holding cells are in the lower levels. If you require nothing else, then the Emperor's blessings be upon.

Lord Ulrich, while not the highest ranking inquisitor on the planet, is currently the Master of the Tricorn, a rotating-title and position to ensure that an inquisitorial agent of sufficient rank is always in charge of the tricorn, overseeing operations and standing by in case of need.

Operating as you are away from your Inquisitor and using discretion, based off-world and not technically an operating officer of the Ordos Scintillii, your access to the armories and forges is unlimited, but you will be required to pay for your purchases, unless your Inquisitor will sign for them later.

Support is available for any operations you must undertake, but there are conditions. As you lack Inquisitor or Interrogator rank, your requests must be approved by Lord Ulrich. You can, of course, petition the Adeptus Arbites, the planetary enforcers, or the PDF for aid. We currently have the equivalent of some 12 companies of Storm Troopers, not counting the personal retinues of Inquisitors.

Your rooms are a grim but functional suite, exactly as described. You are just down the hall from the main librarium. Barracks, interrogation rooms, training courses, weapons ranges, mess halls, conference rooms, magazines and armories and cell blocks are scattered throughout the building, and anything you could possibly require is near at hand.

Chapel Personnel- Father Ingatius

Head Tech Priest- Tech-Praetor Saul

Rather than role-playing out a lengthy interrogation, I'll summarize it. Dax, the bartender, knows only that he is paid phenomenally well for his turning a blind eye. He launders money for several gangs, most prominently the Blue Bastards and the Sons of Vaul. He has no further knowledge of the deeper goings-on in his establishment. Nothing beyond the normal drug trafficking, illegal gambling, prostitution, money laundering, drink-watering and playing bad music that goes hand-in-hand with this sort of shoddy, disreputable bar.

Mathias proves much harder to crack, and his interrogation includes a lot more thumbscrews and truth-serums and things like that. After taking your leather aprons to the bins to be laundered (thoroughly), you review his testimony. (Also, have a character with Interrogate roll. We'll see whether Mathias and Dax survive the interrogation.)

He is guilty of a number of heresies, first of all. His faith in the Emperor is almost non-existent, and his adherence to Imperial law is just as slim. Theft, bribery, treason, the occasional murder, trafficking in any number of underworld goods and services.

The most pertinent of his crimes, however, center around the import of various Xenos artifacts through his association with big game hunters and fight promoters in the Arenas. Sewn into the fat and muscle-tissues of imported fighting-beasts, or hidden beneath the most unpalatable of animal droppings and viscera, the remit of these rogue traders and big game hunters allows them to travel far and wide, often outside of the bounds of Imperial law. Certain understandings have always existed with regards to the wide-reaching Authority of Rogue Traders, however there are limits to all things. And any man or woman trafficking in unconsecrated technology, no matter how harmless it might Seem, has gone beyond the pale.

The center-point of this apparent vortex of vice and corruption is Templum Pugnare! With seating for more than 100,000 spectators, two dozen different Arenas and stages, employing thousands, both on the stage and behind the scenes, the Templum Pugnare covers a dozen square kilometres and is home to hundreds of beasts from all over the sector and even beyond!

And deep in the bowels of the beast pits, lower even than the meat-recovery chutes, is the Real scene.

The richest, the wildest, and the most uninhibited of spectators can, for a price, buy entry to the Greatest Show on Scintilla. Here the true art is performed. The blood sport above is real enough, but is limited by imperial edicts and laws governing the import of beasts and possible-alien species. In the lower-pits, there are truly no laws too sacred. Orks and mutants, criminals and monsters fight and die for the amusement of the highest classes. Rogue traders, the idle rich, nobility and the like all find satisfaction amidst the savage joys and disregard for imperial law that their wealth breeds.

Hive Zone RF-697 is the location of the Templum Pugnare, the most run-down section of the middle-hives. Once a prosperous region, harsh economic times have led to most of the successful workers moving elsewhere, and decay setting in. By day, the region is an empty wasteland, but by night it becomes one of the most brightly lit, loudest, most populace areas of a hive city (and That's saying something!)

Possible Entrances/Ways In

As spectators

As participants

Employment with a Rogue Trader, Big Game hunter, or one of the myriad companies peripherally involved in the business. Concessions are brought in (Food, drinks, booze, memorabilia), beasts are imported (From on and off world), the carcasses of the dead (human and animal) are either buried (human) or taken off-site and rendered down into meat for sale to various and sundry businesses. (animals and the humans that aren't buried.)

Purchasing entrance into the Under-Pits, disguised as the idle rich etc.

Infiltrating the perimeter with a strike force and storming the offices or under-pits.

?

If the party decides to infiltrate, and they think to ask someone for help, there is an Officia Abscondito that specializes in creating false identities and the papers to back them up against all but the closest scrutinies.

Access to the Officia Abscondito requires the authorization of a fully-fledged inquisitor or of the Lord Inquisitor Ulrich, which will require an explanation of your mission.

A meeting with Lord Inquisitor Ulrich will be brief, as he is a very busy man and not one for wasting time. He will ask your mission and then let the party do all the talking.

Alternatively, there are a number of Astropaths within the Tricorn, though if, for whatever reason, this isn't satisfactory, there are actual Telepathicus temples throughout the city.

You manage to reach Interrogator Chaplain Koblentz, one of Inquisitor Azarach's chief Lieutenants. Inquisitor Azarach, along with the Wrath of the Righteous, have left orbit in a hurry in response to a call from inquisitorial cells operating along the Lathe Worlds.

It's all up to you how to proceed. You have your leads, but no instruction from Inquisitor Azarach as to how to proceed.

Mathias' ContactsRogue Trader first mate named Jonas

Corrupt sort of cardinal named Zedekkiah

PDF Colonel with expensive tastes and expansive debts. Colonel Rutlidge

Party Disguises

Security Officer?

Rogue Trader's Companion Princess?

Rogue Trader?

Personal Chaplain?

Barbarian Bodyguard?

Other?

THIRD SESSIONThe carnival atmosphere slaps you in the face as you cross the threshold. Throbbing music vies for attention against the trilling of flutes and the banging of cymbals as a parade of fools cavorts past you. You smelled this place 10 blocks away, the stench of humanity pressed too close together, cooking meats, stale beer, promethium fuel and animal dung pervades the atmosphere. No, pervades isn't the right word. Sweat, food, beer, fuel, animal shit... it IS the atmosphere. An almost visible stench, both sweet and sour, delicious and repugnant, awakening within all of you memories both fair and foul.

Jostled by the crowd, you forge your way through the press, passing one attraction after another. Jugglers and fools, caged monstrosities and circus freaks. A garish clash of colors and sounds assaults your senses. Vendors hawking their wares confront you at every turn, promising everything from food and drink to weapons and commemorative items.

Despite the lure of these intrepid salespeople, you press on through the masses of humanity until you come to the entrance to the Coliseum. The main gates are ahead of you, and the poorly dressed throng floods in. To the right is a much smaller gate, guarded by some serious muscle in colourful livery. You see a richly dressed couple approach, and the woman leans in and whispers something to one of the guards. Money changes hands, and after a quick vox-communication, the guard opens the gate and ushers them through.

(The password, if they overhear it (awareness) is Swordfish, and 100tg per person entrance free)

(outright bribing your way in is 1,000 tg/person)

(Bluff/Intimidate your way through, still 100tg/person or something else)

You are lead through many long hallways, escorted by increasingly well dressed flunkies. Down staircases and elevators, past checkpoints and bio-scans.

Myriad corridors stretch off to both sides, and the strangest of smells and sounds emanate. Mortis-teams carry the bodies of the dead, gladiators and beasts alike, push carts of the dead down into the meat-rendering rooms. Staff members in bloody leather frocks collect the refuse, broken armor and weapons and take it for refurbishment. Even the occasional handler-team, dragging some fearsome beast by it's tethers, is visible down one steam-filled corridor or another.

Even as you see these things, down one side-corridor you see four people huddled around a data-slate having a heated argument. Roll an awarness test based on hearing.

Success- You overhear the words 'Xenos, smuggler, damned-liars, and unreliable'Two degrees- as above, but you also hear that there are unidentified power sources active on the premises, and that they keep getting sensor glitches on the overhead radar.Three degrees- There has been a major security breach. I don't know if it was that pointy-eared bastard double-crossing us or if some damned arbites operatives have been poking their noses in but there's Something going on here, and we need to secure both the artifact and the Specimens.'

The party can search the catacombs if they want, sneaking away from the group one-by-one or in groups, they just have to make an agility test to do so unobserved.

If you evade the guards, you'll find, eventually, a Cryo-bay.

Inside the chamber, there is only a single large construct of (forbidden lore test) (passed? ELDAR MANUFACTURE) shaped somewhat like an immense coffin. It's 4 meters tall, 3 meters wide and three meters deep. Inside it is a towering monstrosity, carved out of pure nightmare. Frozen solid, ichor drips from it's open mouth, a horror of fangs and tentacles unlike anything you've ever seen before. Unbelievably long claw-arms grow out of its' back, like some insane preying mantis, while the other limbs end in horrific parodies of human hands, tipped with claws made of the same chitinous exoskeleton as the rest of it. Roll a willpower test, those who fail gain 1d5 insanity points.

At this point, the group is surrounded by a dozen armed guards, beast handlers and other minions. A woman dressed in what looks like a ring-master's costume demands that they hand over their weapons and come along quietly.

You are asked to hand over your weapons. Whether they just got surrounded by guards in the cryo-bay, or if they went along quietly like any other spectators.

(If the players lie badly or bluff poorly or fuck things up somehow, some or all of them may be seized by the security forces. Interrogation of them may force the PCs into revealing their true identities.

Torture will probably be a couple of alternating Willpower and Toughness tests. After each 'interrogation session,' (i.e. test), have the player roll a willpower test, -10 for each 'session' they've undergone to convince their captors of their veracity.)

If any of them crack, they'll give up the names of each other player character (50/50 chance)

They will then be thrown into the arena as a group, first against two ork boys, and if they survive that, then against some big scary beasty.

The armory available to them are 1) Chainsword, 2) Axes, 1) Mono-edged Sword, 2) Crossbows w/ 12 bolts each, 2) Spears, some sort of throwing weapon and a net.

I KNOW it's rail-roading, but right before the party Really starts dying in earnest, then...

The Ork's Head/Giant Critter's Head explodes in a welter of gore, and your ears ring to the sharp crack of a bolt-shell's discharge. The crowd panics, screaming and surging as maroon armored troops burst through the entrances. Gas-spewing grenades fly and the screams turn into gasps for air and choking sounds. Take a toughness test. If you fail, you drop to your knees, choking for air. The troops move in, hellguns spitting fire at the few remaining on their feet, clubbing down and securing the crowd. Take a toughness test at -20. You STILL haven't passed out? Fine. The armor of the troops is trimmed in black, you notice, with gold stylized Is, symbols of the inquisition. They move with obvious competence and ruthlessness, rapidly securing the entire arena. Stretchers are brought in for the wounded, and the non-wounded are dragged away in chains. Take another toughness test, you smug bastard(s). -30. There, you're passed out. Geez.

(upon awakening)

Interrogator Santiago Talivera gathers you all around him in the surgeonarium aboard the Wrath of the Righteous.

You all performed magnificently. We had no trouble tracking your progress, and were just the distraction we needed to thoroughly breach their security. None of the managed to evade our sweep teams, and all surviving subjects are now undergoing thorough interrogation. You have proved your worth to Lord Azarach, and to the God Emperor himself this day. Rest well, for we shall soon have need of you again. Tomorrow you will all swear your oaths to the Inquisitor, don his regalia and join his service as full fledged members of the Holy Inquisition.