Author’s Note: What follows is a bit of introductory text for a Shadowrun campaign I just started running. I’m placing it here because (1) I’m pretty proud of it and (2) I’m pressed for time and can’t post anything else just now. I hope you enjoy it!
Hong Kong has two seasons: dry and wet. During the dry season, it’s really hot and very humid; during the wet, it is somewhat less hot and, incredibly, even more humid. Monsoons batter the coastal city with driving rains, rains that seem to fall in not just one direction but all directions at once. The water is like human sweat, warm and a bit salty, and there is no escaping it, no dividing your own body from it. The rain covers everything in this town, merging it together in one slimy, sticky, foul-smelling slick.
Walking down the Golden Mile in the Tsim Sha Tsui neighborhood, you can tell the locals from the expat from the tourists by how hard they fight the rain. Tourists wear polymer fiber raincoats and brightly colored umbrellas, sweating and bumping along uncomfortably with the crowds. Expats wear simple ponchos of lightweight plastic and don’t bother to button them, which is still a step above the simple sampan hats of the locals, who take the rain as a gift from the spirit world, even if they don’t particularly like it.
As an ork, you’ve got a good half-meter in height on most people on the street. Ordinarily this gives you a good view of your surroundings, even in a crowd, but it’s night on the Golden Mile in the rainy season, and all you can see is Chinese characters in jarring neon beneath the non-stop spam in your AR displays – tourist shops, noodle stands, sex clubs, and even traditional Chinese apothecaries bombard your senses with ads, some even linked up with your hot sim. If you didn’t have it cut out as a safety measure, you’d smell the noodles and taste the tea while feeling the massages, both chaste and pornographic. Ordinarily you’d be running in private mode in this area, allowing you to see, but Chun Fa has his ways of contacting you, and it often involves enduring the spam for a while. So, you wash down the street with the river of humanity, bathed in the rain, the world nothing but a riot of neon color with the roar of the rain all around and a sea of sampan hats beneath.
It’s only about ten minutes of this before you spot the ad. It’s a picture of a pig on a spit being braised over hot coals with the words “Hot Times!” advertised beneath – no animation, no flair, it’s an ad that nobody would notice or even remember in the neverending sea of Golden Mile spam. You’re looking for it, though, and you know what it means. You duck into the next little cafe and sit at an open table in the back. The place is well lit Japanese sushi place with buzzing fluorescent light and decorated with cheap vinyl faux-wood veneers and imitation paper screens. You recognize the name – some chain called Magic Fish that’s been trying to get a foothold in Hong Kong for the past decade, with moderate success. You’re not really here to eat, anyway, but you order some tea to avoid arousing the suspicion of the dull-eyed teenagers behind the counter. They’ll bring it, but they aren’t rushing. Suits you.
Chun Fa shows up a couple minutes later. He’s a heavyset Chinese man with a face like a dumpling – round, flabby, and glistening as though coated in oil. His hair is a tight little copse of curly black positioned on the very top of his head with the sides shaved away, like he’s maintaining some kind of game preserve up there for whatever could survive in his heavy oiled do. He smiles, making his face undulate into a kind of cheap knock-off of the laughing Buddha. “You look sick. Eat something, my treat.”
“I don’t eat this crap.” You mean to be sullen, but it’s hard not to smile at Chun Fa, so you do. “How you been?”
“Better than you.” He grabs his belly with both hands and shakes it so it jiggles. “I eat. Hey, got something for you.”
“About time. You’ve been too busy eating and not busy enough getting me work.”
Chun Fa shrugs. “You have no face, my friend. No guanxi. Hard to get you work when most of your work is somewhere else.” You’re about to protest, but he cuts you off. “Please, I mean no offense. Besides, I have something – no small job, either. Big work – pull it off, and you gain a lot of face, make the right connections for even bigger work later. Okay?”
The rest is small talk. After a sensible period, Chun Fa leaves. You stay and wait for Mr. Johnson, who shows up just about the same time as you get your tea. He is thin where Chun Fa is fat, his face is pointed and narrow, like a knife. He is older than you and probably older than Chun Fa, but beyond that it’s hard to place his age. He’s wearing a western suit, which itself means nothing – this guy screams ‘Triad’, but you have no idea which one.
He slides a memory chip across the table to you beneath a napkin and starts talking. “There is a ship that will be docking in Victoria Harbor in three days, called the Aleutian Sunrise. This ship is not to reach the dock.”
A quick shake of the head and a cruel grin is the answer. “You will sink it. In Victoria Harbor, where everyone will see.”
You do your best not to whistle – a tough job, very dangerous, very complicated. “Pay?”
“Ten thousand for a retainer, fifteen upon completion. Plus, we will pay market rate for any cargo you recover from the ship prior to its destruction.”
Cargo – that meant illicit goods, obviously. This wasn’t a ship full of car parts and women’s underwear. These guys – whoever they are – are pretty pissed off at some smugglers and want to make a public example of them. You and your team are the implement of that example, and you’re getting paid peanuts for the privilege. “Okay, Mr. Johnson – let’s talk turkey…”
This Christmas, I bought myself a present. I usually feel guilty for doing this, but a friend of mine was selling a few old RPG books and I jumped at the deal. I found myself in possession of Shadowrun’s 4th Edition and a pair of sourcebooks. Not expecting anything awesome, I began to flip around. Then I began to read. Then I began to build characters in my head. And villains. And a campaign hook.
Shadowrun is probably my favorite RPG setting of all time. If you’re running the shadows, I’m there. I’ve GM-ed it a number of times (though never managed to get in a full campaign arc), played it more than any other game, and am pretty much constantly making characters for it in my head. It is a near-perfect mix of cyberpunk dystopian future and urban fantasy. It is a place where trolls and elves and dwarves live in our world alongside everybody else, a place where magic is real and commodified, and a setting so pregnant with adventure hooks they seem to pop off the page and hit you in the face every time you read a sourcebook. Tack that on to a system that is full of crunchy gear and so many cool options that you don’t care if it’s an overall unwieldy monster, and it becomes and instant winner with me (as I tend to like crunchy rule systems). The fact that 4th Edition has ironed out a lot of the ridiculous hoops of the old editions, and we’ve got a game that I almost can’t help but want to run.
Me and a friend of mine were reminiscing about the Shadowrun team we’d assembled for another friend’s (Perich’s) Shadowrun campaign from 4-5 years ago or so. Dubbed ‘The Cutler Group’ (for our face man, Everard Cutler), we had a well-balanced, keenly-oiled machine of a team. I was Nikita, the Russian ex-special forces dwarf–the team heavy. I had a van full of guns, connections to Vory Zakon, and a bowling team. I blew up more bad guys than I could conceivably count. Our leaders were Cutler, the face man with the diamond cufflinks and the head full of chips, and Garret, the burned-out Texan mage with his sullen Earth elementals and his warehouse apartment space. We ran with a teenage computer hacker, Milo, an Amerindian street ganger and physical adept named Screaming Eagle, and a host of other occasional stars. Every session was like an episode of Mission:Impossible. Loved every minute of that campaign.
Looking back, that’s been the case for pretty much every Shadowrun campaign I’ve ever been a part of. There was the one I ran with Thurston Derbershaw III, the giant cybered up troll with his host of holographic T-shirts (including one that had a picture of a covered bridge that kept rocking back and forth with the subtitle ‘Trolls Do It Under Bridges”) and Niles, the butler-ninja with the special power to produce beverages at any time. There was the one before that, with the Harley-riding combat mage and the wise-cracking, completely mundane but well-connected Private Eye, Jack Connors. There was the one I played in before that, wherein I played a redneck Ork with a pickup truck, a mean bull-mastiff, and a rack full of hunting rifles. There was the one-shot I played as a ex-corporate assassin with a pair of Colt Manhunters and a Machiavellian code of ethics (helped along with ridiculously fast reflexes).
I could go on.
The point is that it looks like I’m going to run a Shadowrun campaign sometime. I’m in the middle of a Ravenloft campaign right now, so it might be a while, but it’s coming. Oh yes. I just can’t seem to stay away.
A long, long time ago I ran a campaign in the Dungeons and Dragons setting, Ravenloft. For those of you who have never heard of it, it’s a gothic horror themed campaign setting–werewolves, vampires, ghosts, and creepier things, all stuck together in one of the most depressing worlds in existence. It was in that campaign, run between 1992 and 1995-ish, that I really cut my teeth on how to make RPGs scary (for more info on how I did/do this, see here).
I never felt, however, that I really got the most out of the campaign setting. For one thing, the high-medieval fantasy tropes of D&D don’t fit very well into a gothic horror setting. I had druids and dwarves and paladins running around stabbing things with long swords or casting ‘Cure Light Wounds’ and it kinda tanked the mood. For another, I wasn’t quite as talented a GM then as I feel I am now (well, to be honest, I wasn’t very talented at a whole lot of things–I was 14). I read a lot of the fluff text and adventure ideas and I couldn’t quite see how to make them work, and a lot of this was because I still felt the urge to make pen-and-paper RPGs work more like video games, which is a bad idea (and part of the reason I dislike 4th Edition D&D).
Some of the things I did (and do) like, however, is the structure of the world, its rules of operation, and the dramatic potential contained therein. For one thing, I LOVE the idea of the Mists. The Mists, you see, are the faceless, inhuman power that shapes Ravenloft–you wander into them, lose your way, and find yourself in some new, terrible place. They suck people in from other planes of existence, trapping them within Ravenloft with no hope of escape. These travelers are forced to wander the dark roads of the Realm of Terror, saving others and themselves from evil or, even more likely, slowly succumbing to evil themselves. It’s a kind of Quantum Leap, but in reverse. Maybe, someday, they earn their ticket home. More likely they, like Sam Beckett, remain in Ravenloft forever.
My favorite character in this campaign was Jim Bob–played by my friend Ryan–who was a Confederate soldier from the American Civil War who got sucked into Ravenloft right off a misty battlefield in Virginia. He added just the right kind of flavor to the campaign, and the drama surrounding the use of his rifled musket was absolute gold (can he load the silver shot into the muzzle before the werewolf finds him? Can he? Oh god, it’s getting CLOSER!).
I’m considering, as of this moment, running a new Ravenloft campaign. As is my wont, however, I’m not going to take it as-is–it’s getting a face lift. For one thing, in tribute to Jim Bob, I’m going to let players bring in characters from any world, any time, any place. Furthermore, the reason the Mists have sucked in these characters is because they have darkness in their soul–the Mists want them. It becomes the players’ objective to see if either (a) they can tame or purge that darkness and, therefore, earn their escape from Ravenloft or (b) succumb to their darkness, embrace it, and become one of the Dark Lords of the Realm of Terror. This is a horror RPG, but with characters with agency (not Call of Cthulhu, with its pathetic weaklings doomed to death and destruction).
The problem, however, becomes selecting the system best suited to running such a game. I’d like something that focuses on internal character development (like Burning Wheel, Riddle of Steel, etc.), but also maintains relatively simple gameplay (in accordance with the rules of horror RPGs). I was thinking of, perhaps, adapting Hunter: The Reckoning, but I don’t remember the World of Darkness system well enough to say whether it’s a good fit or not. I don’t mind writing in additional mechanics, if need be, but I don’t have the time to write up a whole new rule system. Anybody have any suggestions for me?
Anybody want to play?
Author’s Note: What follows is some of the campaign storyline for a Warhammer 40K RPG I ran last year–the whole thing worked out wonderfully, actually–and I just thought I’d include this here for fun. If running your own 40K RPG, feel free to use it yourself, if you like. No infringement of Games Workshop’s copyright is intended.
++Attention Lord Inquisitor, OrdoDacia++
+Even a Man Who is Nothing May Still Offer His Life+
My Lord Orsino,
In accordance with your wishes I have herein compiled a complete overview of the Lustborn Heresy, so that future Ordo operatives may know the signs and respond accordingly. Following the completion of this report, I will have myself mind-scrubbed to remove the taint of such knowledge from my soul. Should you wish to access it, only you will possess the knowledge of its whereabouts.
With Loyalty Always,
Hathbront Markuse, Savant
It is likely that the precise origins of this wretched cult will forever remain unknown, but this much can be authenticated. In the early part of 797.M41, a vessel of xeno origin—possibly Eldar—was found derelict close to Listening Post 44872-AF on the Octavian Frontier. An interceptor squadron, led by the Lunar-class cruiser INS Vigilance and supported by INS Merciless, boarded the vessel, expecting some kind of xeno trickery. The small crew of the xeno ship was reported as dead upon arrival, though later certain interviews with the Vigilance’s boarding team contested that fact (they insisted they were forced to engage hostiles—see report 777320). In any event the ship was declared secure and it was Captain Gethamy’s decision to scuttle it in deep space.
It may seem odd that this action indicated the start of one of the most dangerous heresies in recent history, given the relative simplicity of it, but one important detail must be indicated. The medical officer aboard the Vigilance was none other than Kryptman Gore himself (see POI file 1848301-K8). It is suggested by a number of our augurs and analysts that Gore managed to acquire some kind of alien biologics that enabled him to later create the Luster-V strain. This again merely reinforces the importance of careful =I= involvement and investigation into all xeno contacts, no matter how routine.
The archheretic Krytman Gore was born on Helica II into a wealthy mercantile household in 758.M41. He excelled at academics and was admitted to the venerable SaturnineUniversityin 780.M41, where he studied chemistry and medicine. Graduating top of his class, he took a post in the Imperial Navy as a medical orderly, midshipman rank. His service record is exemplary, with his superiors lavishing praise upon the young officer. This, in and of itself, seems suspicious, but it must remain suspicions—the war did a good job of making sure none of our operatives were able to interview those who knew him. The Vigilance was lost with all hands in its initial action against the traitor fleet in 814.M41 near Cordobo.
Gore left the Emperor’s service in 800.M41 and seems to have moved to Hasturia to take up private medical practice. We strongly suspect this move was not happenstance. Given what followed, it seems obvious that Gore already had a plan in mind and Hasturia met with his specifications.
Whether Kryptman Gore was inspired or assisted by xenotech or whether he was, instead, a chemical and biological genius, the end result is the same. Gore wasn’t practicing medicine on Hasturia to serve the populace, but rather using his medical practice as a guise for his medical experiments. We have recovered intermittent reports from the local Magistratum in Hanburg (Gore’s city of residence) that record accusations of malpractice and malfeasance levied against Gore by patients. It is unknown what became of these accusations—clearly very little. It is possible he was fined and lost substantial portions of his income and personal wealth. This, of course, did not deter him.
What Gore was working towards was a version of mind control in chemical or biological form. It is probable that he had a number of failed attempts at this, hence the complaints and subsequent fines. Still, he was learning. This experimentation, in all probability, took until 805.M41 before a finished product was ready. This biochemical substance is now known as Luster-V.
The full Mechanicus report on the chemical structure of Luster-V can be found in archival report #CC8309961. In brief, it is a retroviral agent that radically alters hormone production in the body. Once exposed to a significant quantity of the substance, the victim is soon overcome with a feeling of quasi-orgasmic ecstasy as the body produces endorphins at a incredibly accelerated rate. The body then imprints this production of endorphins on a particular activity—that being whatever activity the victim is engaged in at the time of the drug’s activation. The victim is then chemically dependent upon the performance of that activity in order to produce endorphins of any kind. In essence, they are addicted to whatever it is they have been imprinted to do. One can immediately see the terrible and sobering effects such a drug would have in the hands of a power-mad heretic. To make matters even worse, Luster-V is permanent and self-replicating within a person’s system and can be passed down (in an inert form) to any offspring, allowing Gore and, later, the Chem Lords, to execute near-perfect control over a population thus afflicted.
Though tales of horror and mayhem are of little worth to formal reports, I feel it is necessary to point out the horrific results of a population infected with Luster-V. During the scourging of New Coplia, front line units reported hordes of emaciated, half-naked civilians imprinted as manual laborers running into crossfires to dig trenches in areas already overrun by Imperial forces. Elsewhere, we discovered women who had been imprinted during the act of childbirth serving as little more than horrifying breeding slaves, doomed to continually seek impregnation or suffer oft-fatal withdrawal symptoms. I need not mention, of course, the so-called Lustborn Elite—child soldiers imprinted on violence and warfare used as shock troops, commandoes, and even human shields against our forces.
As of this writing, there is nothing short of extensive gene-therapy that can reverse the effects of someone affected with Luster-V. Those actually ‘Lustborn’ (those who inherited the chemical from a parent) are beyond help. It is the stated recommendation of this report that they be put to death whenever found. It is both an act of mercy and the erasure of a profanity against the Emperor’s Light.
+The Corruption of Hasturia+
Of course, the full horror of Luster-V would not manifest itself for many years and, to the great regret and shame of the Ordo, its presence was not detected until it was far too late. This is, presumably, because Kryptman Gore was not so foolish as to begin imprinting people in obviously deranged ways. He must have worked with great subtlety, securing the dependence of various government ministers and underworld kingpins upon something only he could provide (such as placebo-effect sugar pills, for instance) by infecting them with Luster-V. It is hypothesized that these individuals, unaware of precisely why they needed Kryptman so much, soon began to depend upon him.
Hasturia was, of course, an ideal place to build a base of power. As a venerable agri-world that had been slowly growing its industry and urban centers throughout the 8th century M41, it was poised to become the next superpower in the Dacia Subsector as Aquilonia and Helica gradually faded with the tapping out of their resources. The prevalent cultural mood of Hasturia was energetic, optimistic, and forward-thinking. Government ministers were usually open to new ideas and radical new methods of governance and research and, therefore, had =I= agents and informants looking in a hundreds of directions at once. There was little chance we could have picked Kryptman Gore’s very quiet scheme for planetary domination out from among the many other, louder, and more flagrantly heretical activities of some of his fellow citizens (refer to reports 778012 through 779592 and their corresponding POI files).
Thus, Hasturia at this juncture was a balance of both agriculture and industry, with a population not so large as to be unwieldy for control but large enough to represent a good starting point for a larger, more widespread insurrection. We theorize that Gore knew this all too well, and chose Hasturia intentionally for his purposes. Regardless, however, of whether such theories are true or not, the fact remains that, at some point before 812.M41, Kryptman or his representatives had secured control of the top levels of the entire planetary government and had a firm grasp on the underworld and criminal element, as well.
Subtle and important shifts in Hasturian society, which had been happening throughout the early 9th century M41, picked up speed with Gore and the now Lust-addicted planetary leaders calling the shots. Recreational drug use skyrocketed, while crime simultaneously dropped to almost nothing. This indicates that there was a tight union between the underworld and the planetary governor, Ernest Falking, which was, no doubt, orchestrated by Gore. As society became progressively more debauched, we presume Luster-V continued to be distributed, and more people were made slaves to its will.
At some point during this process, Gore lost sole control of his creation, though we cannot say whether this loss was involuntary or rather another stage of his plan. Various government ministers saw what was happening and, presumably pondering the implications, evidently decided they wanted more than they had, and that Gore’s chemical mastery coupled with their ambition could provide it.
+The Cordobo Ambush+
Gore and the new leaders of the insurrection—later dubbed the Chem Lords—knew, and rightly so, that any action against the Imperium was doomed to failure without naval support. The timeline of when and how, exactly, the Traitor fleet was formed is not wholly known. Clearly some agreement with the Great Enemy was made—indeed, it is very likely a taint of the Ruinous Powers was evident from the very start of this process. In any event, a renegade fleet of considerable size was amassed in secret somewhere beyond the confines of the Hasturia system. The fact that there is no intelligence to indicate the details of this gathering of Enemy naval power can be partially attributed to the increased frequency of Eldar raids upon shipping in the subsector (see below), though it still exists as a stain upon the diligence of both the Imperial Navy and the Ordo.
The existence of the ‘Glorious Fleet’ and, indeed, the very first shots of what the Hasturians would soon be calling ‘The Glorious Insurrection’, manifested in a devastating raid upon the naval base at Cordobo in 812.M41. A battle group of two battleships, 15 cruisers, and no fewer than 80 smaller ships struck with remarkable coordination. Though a gallant defense was mustered and, thanks to the heroic actions of then-CommodoreMyraAtkin, the Cordobo base was not totally destroyed, loyalist naval power was struck a devastating blow. Nine ships of the line were irrevocably lost while another seven sustained crippling damage. There was also extensive damage done to the repair docks and command center. Though Cordobo would survive the war, it would be almost a decade before it was back to full operating capacity.
+The Lustborn Insurrection+
Much has been made of the military campaigns of the past 29 years, and it is not the purpose of this report to reiterate military history. Suffice to say that the Lustborn Cult wasted no time in consolidating its power and mustering together an army while its new fleet struck with devastating swiftness. As the subsector marshaled itself for a counterattack, many minor systems around Hasturia found themselves at the mercy of the traitor fleet.Cordobacontinued to sustain raids and the Stygian system was blockaded. War was joined, first naval and then ground forces got involved.
The Lustborn Cult used and, to the extent that it still exists, uses chemical agents and psychotropic drugs extensively in its forces. They are crazed and fanatical, often frothing at the mouth in frenzy and, one presumes, enjoyment. Though their tactical discipline was universally poor, their enthusiasm for their work was undeniable and the Chem Lords knew what they were doing. A stalemate, both naval in the space surrounding Hasturia and on the ground in Stygia, was soon underway. The war would grind on this way for fifteen years.
For reasons known only to their perfidious minds, the treacherous Eldar used the war as an opportunity to sow chaos across the Dacia Subsector. They made a habit of raiding convoys and attacking outposts, both Imperial and Heretical, for no apparent purpose other than to cause destruction and death. Most analysts agree that, were it not for Eldar ‘involvement’, the Lustborn Insurrection would likely have been contained in half the time necessary and many millions of lives would have been saved.
Many theories have been posed regarding the Eldar purpose for these attacks, but this analyst believes such speculation to be idle. It is enough that the Eldar hate us and, at heart, are cowardly and mercurial. It was for their sport and enjoyment that they became so engaged in the war and nothing more. Their motivations are alien, and we ought not waste time ascribing their actions logical purpose.
It is, then, with great luck that Admiral Atkin was able to finally draw the balance of the Eldar forces into a battle around the Bonner system that resulted in a stunning victory for humanity. This point—822.M41—is widely considered to be a turning point in the war. This is also the year that the Imperial Fists and White Scars Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes became involved in the conflict, finally breaking the stalemate on Stygia and spearheading the Imperial attack against Hasturia itself.
+Victory On Hasturia+
As of this writing, all conventional Hasturian and, by extention, Lustborn military power has been utterly defeated. Their fleet has been scuttled or captured, their armies have been crushed, and their capacity to make war has been razed, purged, and sundered. The Imperial Fists, with their typical enthusiasm, continue to operate on the planet’s surface, purging every last stronghold of the heretical cult with fire and blood.
Kryptman Gore is dead at the hands of none other but Captain Darnath Lysander of the Imperial Fists, his body pulped into little more than a bloody paste. All attempts at a post-mortem interview have failed, and with him dies much information about the Lustborn cult that would have been useful to us. A complaint has been lodged with the Fists’ Chapter Master, and it will no doubt be ignored.
As the above may indicate, our victory may have been too complete. All of the Chem Lords are dead, either killed in action with our forces or by their own hands. Most of the secondary tier of the Lustborn government is also dead or missing, though some of them do reside in our custody and are undergoing interrogation. In the chaos surrounding the siege of Hasturia, it is possible if not likely for elements of the enemy to have slipped through our blockade only to infiltrate other systems in the sector. Indeed, given Kryptman Gore’s apparent foresight and attention to detail, it is possible sleeper cells already exist on other worlds and have existed for some time. There is intelligence gathered on Aquilonia IV and elsewhere to support this possibility, and operatives are currently investigating. We may have stamped out the fire, but the embers are still hot.
Furthermore, the cost of the war has been high. Nearly three decades of all-out war has left a great mark upon the subsector. Stygia and Hasturia are absolute ruins—billions dead, nearly all urban centers ruined, infrastructure all but destroyed—while numerous lesser worlds underneath Lustborn authority have been significantly damaged. Refugees have been pouring into Helica II and Aquilonia IV for years now, stressing their already fragile planetary economies to the breaking point. Even comparatively remote worlds, such as Bonner and Vaskeri Prime have felt the pinch, with their planetary production quotas rising by up to 33% to meet increased demand for comestibles. The damage to our own military units is, of course, extensive as well. The navy is at a little over a third of its strength in 821.M41, and a huge proportion of most planet’s PDF are deployed on Stygia, Hasturia, or its environs, leaving much of the subsector relatively susceptible to attack. We have been fortunate that the Octavius frontier has been quiet for the past few decades. This cannot remain the case for much longer—greenskins are not known for their attention spans, and their notice will stray back our way eventually. When it does, I pray to the Emperor that our armies have regained their strength, or we are all lost.
The Ordo Dacia is engaged in a subsector-wide sweep of all populated systems to root out any and all remnant of the Lustborn Cult wherever it is found. Inquisitors and their Interrogators are encouraged to track the trade of illicit drugs, pay attention to chemists and medical personnel in particular, and to keep an eye out for any locals behaving as though in the thralls of Luster-V. Due to the cell-structure of these groups, only the leaders are of any worth in interrogation. All adherents to any cult, no matter how fledgling, are to be put to death and their leaders captured for further questioning.
Vigilance is key. The cult is nearly destroyed, that much is certain, but now is not the time to rest on our laurels. As the rest of the sector attends their victory parades and declares their holidays, our operatives must have our eyes open and our wills girded for their task that still lies before us. We failed in stopping this cult before it became a danger; we must not fail in stamping it out now that it is on the run.