The Pitiless Void (IC)

[Dragonsong]

Any voidfarer can tell you that, for all the countless billions of planets and nebulae and stars and people, the most striking thing about space is its emptiness.

Here at the galaxy's furthest edge, this can be seen with true clarity. Lit by the dull red glow of a burning orb a thousand times the size of the one that lit humanity's ancestors as they crawled from the sea, a dying titan that still outshines the thousand thousand pinpicks of light thrown by distant stars by unimaginable orders of magnitude, this sea of emptiness could swallow a man like he was less than nothing, as though he and all those before him had never been. The fastest ships of the Imperial Navy could travel at full engine power in any direction from this place for half a million years and never find so much as a chunk of rock or ice.

Two great gas giants, each countless times the size of Holy Terra, share this patch of void with the sun that dwarfs them, the rocky remnants of a long dead third brother hanging accusingly between them. And beyond that, a tiny speck in comparison, lies Port Wander.

Surrounded by a swarm of voidships like flies competing for space on a corpse, the former military starport has fallen far from its clean, regimented beginnings. Though cathedral spires yet stand tall around a vast Imperial Aquila, they are surrounded by tacked-on hab complexes and vast swathes of damaged hull over which thousands of servitors methodically trample and whirr. Those once-glorious towers seem less a promise of might and security than a warning. Turn back, they whisper. Beyond us lies the end of all things. Here Be Dragons.

But that never stopped the likes of you. No, the lure of the unknown was impossible to resist.

Within Port Wander, the denizens of the Imperium's fringe mingle in a bizarre tapestry seen nowhere else in Mankind's space. Though the station is nominally under the watchful eye of Battlefleet Calixis, and the most dangerous and secretive of fringers must keep to the hidden fortresses among the asteroids, it is still a gateway to a realm beyond Imperial law, and so the half-lawless roam unchecked. Deserters, drug peddlers, disgraced noblemen, mad explorers, they all rub shoulders in the narrow corridors. It is a place of opportunity, opportunity for both great reward and terrible disaster.

All of this you had heard before you arrived, but seeing it laid out before you is something else entirely. As you make your way down the wide disembarkation ramp, leaving Saint Celestine's Fortune in the hands of its capable (if morbid) crew, the bizarre tapestry unfolds in every direction. You have emerged near the market district known as the Court of the Dead, a vast open compartment three hundred meters in length and at least that much in width that stretches off to your right. As you gaze in that direction, a pair of drunken Navy officers and a filthy little man trying to sell them strange fist-sized fruits scamper out of the way of three imposing Sisters of Battle, their black and blue power armor and grim eyes reflecting the flickering station lights.

Directly ahead of you lies the Arbite command post for this section of the station, a squat, unpleasant building clearly designed with defense in mind. Several Arbites stand at attention outside, their polished visors and fully-charged power cudgels a stark contrast to the station's general disrepair. Off to the left stretches a long corridor lined with establishments ranging from shady bars out of which flows a steady stream of narcotic smoke to the shops of the merchants wealthy enough to do better than one of the cramped storefronts in the Court of the Dead. Toward the end of what you can see of the hall, a small group of red-robed Techpriests slowly strides out of their command post, where they monitor the warp storms surrounding this passage to the Expanse.

Port Wander is open to you. What you'll do with that freedom is entirely in your hands.

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon look's around the starport and speaks in a surprisingly human voice.
Aestabon:"What a degenerate place I cannot believe I got off of the ship."As he types away on the data-slate attached to the back of his servo skull.

[Astro_sol]

Sebastian stepped forward and adjusted his crimson hat.

"Bwa ha! Glorious!" He deeply inhaled, his nostrils flaring. "Do you not smell the scent of scent of adventure and profit?" He inhaled again, then frowned. "No, wait, that's **** and piss. Sorry about that, let's go look for shineys." He beckoned to the creepy girl behind him. "Oi, Cas, you coming? We're going to look for shiney things. And star charts, I need some good maps."

[Winthrow]

Watching the milling crowds Mordechai tightens his grip on the hilt of his chainsword, his thumb idly stroking the skullmotif set into the pommel. 'All the treasures of the Expanse flow through this point and into the Imperium, it is not surprising that a fair lot of its refuse ends up here as well.' A sneer crosses his face as he notices the armored battle sisters and his knuckles whiten as the grip tightens 'Though some of it take care to smell of roses.' Deliberately turning away from the scene he adresses Sebastian. 'Take care in this place, for every reputable trader you'll find half a dozen attempting to scam or rob you, selling you charts that will land us in a nest of pirates, the center of a star or somewhere really unpleasant.'

Relaxing his grip on his weapon once more Mordechai rolls his shoulders, settling the luxurious cape trimmed with Nyxian Shadowcat fur. 'I have instructed the High Factotum to restock the supplies and see about taking on a few more ratings if any with appropriate skills can be found. We should be ready to depart within a day or two, keep your voxlinks with you at all times.'

With a nod towards the navigator and his shadow Mordechai turns to Sebastian who continues to take notes on his dataslate. 'There are plenty of dealers in curious and various artifacts here within the Gilt processionals, between us we should be able to locate someone carrying items true technology from ages past. I have also heard talk of a stranded captain that might advice us on the crossing of the Maw and what lies beyond.'

[Astro_sol]

'Take care in this place, for every reputable trader you'll find half a dozen attempting to scam or rob you, selling you charts that will land us in a nest of pirates, the center of a star or somewhere really unpleasant.'

Sebastian blinked. "I was counting on the fact that all I have to do is threaten to take off my hat if a trader attempted to scam me. No matter. Perhaps Sebastian can wait for a finer distributor of collected charts and maps."


'There are plenty of dealers in curious and various artifacts here within the Gilt processionals, between us we should be able to locate someone carrying items true technology from ages past. I have also heard talk of a stranded captain that might advice us on the crossing of the Maw and what lies beyond.'

"Artifacts, you say...do go on. Sebastian's collection of artifacts is disturbingly lacking." He shifted his belt. "Lead the way, Captain."

[Winthrow]

Nodding towards Sebastian the trader begins steps into the flow of people, the crowds giving way due to the invisible air of authority he carries about him like an invisible cloak, or on account of the rich attire and heavy weaponry worn by the party. As he pauses from time to time to ask questions from the vendors there are many eyes drawn to the well-fitted carapace armor decorated in his house colors of blue and green that he wears underneath his cloak.

[Astro_sol]

Sebastian followed his Captain, but paused to check if there were any items of interest that caught his eye, and asked if there were possibly any walking sticks that could maybe hold high explosive shells.

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon followed along behind the captain and navigator, somehow able to navigate the crowd without looking up from his data-slate. Muttering about the obviously poor craftmanship on various items. The whole time looking for a trader that is carrying las weapons hoping he might come across a hellpistol though he is not counting on it.

[ChaoticSky]

Cas gave a little forward lean that was somewhere between a nod and a bow that was her standard positive-response gesture. "Okay... do you think they have any nice blades here?" she queried in a tone normally reserved for children asking about toys. However, the conversation drafted away from the topic and she looked around as the others continued talking about the trustworthynes of merchants.

"If anyone tries to scam us, I can convince them to give us a deal instead." She offered... at some point she had drawn her powerblade, and holding it horizontally, the tip set against her finger, she spun it idly as she spoke, light glinting from its polished blade, its powerfield off. A moment later, the blade vanished back into her dress, and she followed along as the others moved off.

Her eyes wandered over the stalls disinterestedly, and her cold stare was enough to silence any merchant who thought to target the youngest member of the group. The only exception was of course, blades, though after eyeing them critically, she put back every one that had caught her eye. Apparently none measured up to whatever standard she held.

[Dragonsong]

The strange group makes its way into the Court of the Dead, and is soon swallowed by the press of people. Mordechai's fine clothes set him apart, and he almost immediately finds himself assailed by the enthusiastic shouts and servile groveling of the assorted shopkeepers. But his noble disdain for their poorly crafted goods, combined with the strange and menacing character of his escorts (a psyker, a machine-man, and a fierce, fire-eyed little girl are enough to make people ask all sorts of terrifying questions about what happens to those who anger this nobleman) soon discourages their entreaties.

Though Sebastian has little luck locating one of the rare bolter-canes, Mordechai's mercantile heritage shows through as he moves easily through the market, asking the right questions among the right people to propel his search. After a half hour of redirections, the group finds itself in a dingy corner of the Court of the Dead, one great viewport letting the light of the ancient sun wash over a series of benches covered in carefully-arranged artifacts. A man in long, flowing robes of some exotic fabric that shimmers with a thousand colors in the dim red light emerges from a small toolshed with a nod as potential customers approach.

Easily seven feet tall and thin as a reed, his bald head glistening above features so sharp and thick that they might have been cut from stone, the man bows almost in half at the waist before Mordechai. "Welcome, my lord," he says, his voice the low, silken rumble of the wind over the gravel of an empty riverbed. "If you will forgive my presumption, I sense in you a taste for the arcane. Provided I am correct, you have come to the correct place." He turns to walk back among the display benches, his robes streaming out behind him with each gust of recycled air that blows through the vast room.

"I hope that you will forgive me, servant of the Omnissiah, for I do not know the proper litanies to employ with my... relics. What I know of them I have learned from long experience alone." He nods respectfully to Aestabon as he says this, then turns back to Mordechai. "What is it that you come seeking? Alas, I possess none of the great wonders of the bygone ages, but my humble collection is in good working order. I rescued and repaired each piece myself." He caresses each of the artifacts in turn as he passes them, then stops at the end of the benches and turns back toward the group expectantly.

Laid out on the tables, neatly labeled and placed on display stands, are dozens of leftovers of Humanity's forgotten past. Laid across a pair of heavy metal clamps is a long, rifle-like object that seems to be made of glass and pottery rather than metal; it is labeled "Lightning Gun". Beside it, on a much smaller but equally strong stand, is a thick metal ring through which Cas's head could fit. The outer edge looks much like Mordechai's chainsword; it is labeled "Crimson Crown". Beside that, free of any stands or other constraints, several small tops spin perfectly on their points behind their "Gyro Toy" label. And so on and on down the benches.

"If you have any questions, I would be honored to answer them."

[Astro_sol]

Sebastian leaned forward at the crown and rubbed his chin(s). The crown looked exquisite, and he supposed Cas could use a prezzie. The little girl was...

Okay, he knew that he was creepy. There was a smoothness to his step that someone with his size and weight should not have. While he couldn't run, what he could do, he did quickly, and well. There was something unnerving about an agile fat guy twitching his way through the battlefield. And you could never forget the fact that he could kill you with a look.

Then there was Cas. Literally everything she talked about could be construed in a way that meant everyone in the room was dying. Sebastian didn't take his "immunity" from her bad moods for granted. She needed him, and both of them knew it. He didn't suppose he exactly needed her. He could take care of himself just fine. But...

"Tell me about this Crown," he announced while still bent forward, examining it.

He supposed Cas could use a prezzie.

[Dragonsong]

"Ah," the gaunt merchants says with something approaching a smile, "yes. The Crimson Crown. This device is said to predate the Imperium itself, designed during the brutal days of the Dark Age of Technology. I estimate this particular model to be about twenty thousand years old." Moving over to the ring's stand, he grasps the inside and lifts it from the bench, thumbing a few buttons as he does. "When I... recovered it, its gryo-stabilizers had failed. I have since repaired them, for without them it is difficult to lift, let alone throw as intended."

Striding back over to his shed, he removes a worn target dummy, the same sort often used in basic training by the Imperial Guard. Placing it up against the wall, he takes a dozen steps back, raised the Crimson Crown, and throws, putting a spin on the circular death dealer. Detecting this motion, the chain weapon running along the outside of the ring roars to life as it flies. An instant later the dummy hits the ground amidst a cloud of artificial fibers, messily decapitated. "It is... an inelegant weapon, but an effective one," the merchant murmurs as he retrieves the now-silent crown from where it has fallen.

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon calmly looked over his dataslate to examine the various artifacts closer and determine their true origins.


Check is in OOC and Dice threads

[Winthrow]

Watching the demonstration with interest Mordechai awaits his turn to speak with the trader while Aestabon seems to go through most of the items on display, occasionally stopping to study a piece more indepth. Catching the eye of the man he beckons him a little closer. 'Your presumption is easily forgiven as it was no such thing, but rather the work of a trained eye. I do in truth have an interest in the treasures of the past. And your establishment appears to be a genuine trove of such treasures.' Pushing back the cloak he displays the hilt of the chainblade in its ornate sheath. 'The Lightning gun you carry is an inspiring weapon, but it looks rather large and unwieldly for a man of the world, say do you carry anything more... elegant? A pistol perhaps? Something not kept on display for whoever wanders into your storefront.'

[Astro_sol]

Sebastian laughed at the carnage the weapon wrought.

"Ha ha! Cas, surely you could find some creative uses for such a device! What say you?"

[Dragonsong]

As Sebastian marvels at the messy work of the Crimson Crown, Aestabon - unimpressed in the way only a half-machine man can be - walks among the benches, examining each item in turn with the aid of his vast databank. There are twenty artifacts on display, laid across four benches. Beyond the Lightning Gun, the empty rack from which the Crimson Crown came, and the children's toys lies a neatly-organized surgeon's kit; though the medicines are missing, seven laser-guided, gyro-steadied scalpels, three pairs of forceps of various lengths, and a liquid bandage applicator remain.

Beyond that, a reinforced helmet lies atop a neatly-folded voidsuit reinforced with flexible armor plating. At the very end of the bench is a complete weapon maintenance kit, similar to those issued by the Imperial Guard save that each tool is of exceedingly high quality. On the next bench, some sort of armguard labeled "Mirror Shield" sits beside a succession of spinning gears and power cells labeled "Stasis Pod Components 1-5". The third bench, reinforced from beneath, holds two much bulkier devices labeled "Cutting Beam" and "Holographic Projector".

The fourth bench contains smaller devices again. The first, a silicon cube about the size of Aestabon's fist that is covered in dozens of wires, is labeled "Once Contained an Abominable Intelligence". Beside it, almost identical in appearance, is an object labeled "Pre-Imperium Star Charts". The rest of the bench contains, in order, a burned-out miniature reactor, an elegant cutlass made of some incredibly sharp alloy, a calculator-sized handheld device labeled "Viewer", and a dataslate labeled "Recording of Last Transmission from Rain". Everything seems to be in near-perfect repair.

Meanwhile, the merchant bows low again as he hears Mordechai's praise. "I am glad you think so, my lord. There are many who do not value such things, and would take my educated assumptions as personal attacks." Rising back up to look the Rogue Trader in the eye, though this is complicated by the difference in height, he pauses a moment in thought. "Perhaps there is something else I could show you, my lord. Please, come wi-" He stops mid sentence, staring over Mordechai's shoulder, as booted footsteps approach.

"Well, look who's wallowing about in some grimy corner of the market," comes a high, mocking voice from behind the group. "Mordechai Crayn. How fitting that you, the last sad artifact of your heretic dynasty, should spend your time with other relics irrelevant to the present." The woman who spoke keeps her distance from the little shop, as though the dust of the past might choke any sensible person who came near it. She is comely, with smooth features and perfect curves that her fine clothing (which must have cost nearly as much as the hull of Mordechai's voidship) only accentuates. She is flanked by two hulking bodyguards clad in featureless silver masks and red robes.

"But I have you at a disadvantage; we've not been introduced. I am Tobiana Elisheva." Her cold grey eyes make their way over the little group, ignoring the shopkeeper entirely, and her lip curls into an even deeper sneer. "What interesting company you keep. A psyker and one who denies the Emperor in favor of his Omnissiah, that is to be expected of one of your impious house. And this little girl is your concubine, then? Truly your appetites are depraved." The archeotech merchant, perhaps fearful that his sale of less than legal goods will be reported, remains utterly still and silent.

Aestabon:
You don't think that the stasis pod could be reassembled from the pieces on display, and you doubt that the little cube ever actually held an AI, but the rest seems genuine. It's all shipboard equipment and goods; it's likely that the merchant knows of a particular salvage spot for Archeotech and returns there regularly to take components small enough for him to carry. How a man who clearly doesn't own a voidship manages this is an excellent question.

[Astro_sol]

Sebastian, perhaps against better judgment, spoke up.

"I think she's flirting with you, Captain."

[Dark Chiun]

Not even registering the new arrivals presence seemingly aestabon quickly types out something on his data-slate and has his servo skull hover over so that the captain can read it.

My lord, there is some exceptional items on display here I would suggest that the... cutlass and shield to be fine displays of weaponry and there is an... unusually concentrated amount of archeotech ship equipment here... Perhaps this man knows the location of an ancient ship that we could, perhaps, recover. I suspect he may not truly know what he possesses but has some knowledge of what they may have been used for. All but the... Stasis pods and the... A.I. look to me to be genuine articles.

[Winthrow]

Annoyed to be interrupted in the midst of trading Mordechai turns to face the newcomer. His irritation is lessened somewhat by the interlopers beauty, her continued arrogant words continue to wear away at his patience. Opening his mouth to question her interruption he snaps it closed again, twisting his lips into something midway between a faked smile and a baring of his teeth. 'As I yet live and breathe another Elishevan, one might think that your house does nothing but spawn new offspring. ' He lets his eye linger on her face for a long moment, making sure he'll be able to recall it should he ever see her again.

He turns his head at Sebastians commens but the flittering servoskull draws his attention and he scans the dataslate in a few heartbeats before adressing Aestabon in the secret tongue developed by the Crayn family.
'Secure the shieldbracer and whatever data you can find that might benefit us. The sword only if there is more to it than a sharp edge. And finally, if this gilded harlot has the nerve to start anything, try to keep any stray shot from hurting the trader, we'll explore his sources later.'

As he turns back towards Tobiana his mask of politeness is now firmly back in place, his inner seething anger no longer leaking through. 'My companions are the ones I have chosen, each of them valuable in their own way. If you represent the views of your family I wish you all the Emperors favor in attempting to travel the void without the sight of the Houses Navis, and should the Mechanicus learn that you call them heretics I doubt your fleet will travel for long without... complications.'
Remembering that he last saw Cas near where the crown fell to the deck he step forward, closing the distance to the Elishevans a little, while at the same time moving out of the direct line of fire. He is somewhat confident that Cas remembers enough not to attempt anything while all that has been exchanged is cutting words, he is dead certain that she will respond to any initiation of violence in her favorite fashion, by cutting something off someone, preferably messily.

'What brings you to this part of the Processionals is a mystery to me. For most others I would speculate that they were here for a purchase but as your family no longer trades...' He lets his voice teeter off for a moment, just long enough to put emphasis on the last word. He continues with an offhand wave towards the shelves and tables of the storefront. 'The only business apart from this one in the neighbourhood is the fleshpeddler we passed on the way here. Oh please tell me that your family has not once more fallen to renting out their daughters for coin. Centuries of breeding has not yet managed to eradicate the damage done the last time.'

He stops while still a few paces away but within easy lunging distance, his hand resting casually on the hilt of the chainsword.

[ChaoticSky]

Cas arched a eyebrow at the crown, clearly confused as to what it was, apparently no one had ever taught her about rare and esoteric weapons. But she watched with more than her usual disinterest as the merchant demonstrated the item's function. As the spinning chain blade careened into the dummy and tore it to shreds, her expression changed, and bright grin spread across her features and she let out a appreciative little 'ooh' before nodding up at Sebastian "I'll take it!" she declared with a disturbing amount of enthusiasm as the merchant recovered it.

She didnt react at all at first when the unknown woman appeared, the taunts having as much effect on her as a gnats fart, her attention entirely focused on receiving the weapon from the merchant. However, the man didnt seem to want to involve himself in the situation, and hung back, the Crown still in his hands. Cas continued to stare at him until it became clear that he had no intent of handing over the weapon, and which point her expression flatted out and she turned her glare on Tobiana after Mordechai finished speaking, and added in a malevolent monotone "Go Away."

Rollin:
Intimidation Roll http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=13893179&postcount=9

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon calmly walks up to the merchant and starts speaking in a low voice.
Aestabon:"Good merchant, shall we ignore this, interuption, and get on with our business. There are several items I am interested in and would like to discuss in greater... detail and more privacy..."

[Dragonsong]

"You have a mouth on you, Lord Crayn," Tobiana replies with a high laugh, the tinkling crash of a shattering chandelier. Though her bodyguards tense at Mordechai's return taunts, and reach toward concealed weapons when Cas speaks with the all menace of someone three times her size, the daughter of the Elishevas waves them off, the cold porcelain of her face unbroken for even an instant by anger. "I respect a turnabout. But you would be wise to reign in your barbed tongue when speaking to an Inquisitor. My Ordo takes its dignity seriously."

She pauses a moment to let her words sink in, her gaze never leaving the Rogue Trader. When she speaks again, both mockery and laughter are gone from her tone, leaving only business. "I take its dignity seriously as well. But I have been unable to find any conclusive evidence that you consort with the Ruinous Powers, much to my disappointment, and I take justice equally seriously. That is what brings me to spend some of my valuable time tracking you down. My ancestors owe yours a debt, and as my house will never admit it I must see it paid myself."

"When we lost our warrant you saved us from a death on the streets, even though we had been your enemies. And while you are still in part to blame for our fall, we would not be here to bay for your blood if you had not helped us. So I will tell you that my brother Marcus is here as well, and he is determined to ensure that you never leave Port Wander. He will set a trap for you at your ship; if you value your life, you'll be cautious on your way out." With that, Tobiana turns on her heel and begins to stride away, her bodyguards close behind her.

After a moment she turns back, her sneer recovered. "I am too busy chasing known heretics to invent a reason to hunt you down and burn you, but I dearly hope that you give me a reason. If you are a traitor, know that I will find out, and there will be nowhere in all the wide Expanse that will hide you from me."

Meanwhile the archeotech merchant, clearly eager to be elsewhere, gladly accompanies Aestabon into his toolshed to discuss the items on display.

[Winthrow]

His tension growing rapidly at the mention of the Ordos Mordechai remains watching the departing figures until they pass out of sight around the corner of a bulkhead. Murmuring under his breath he shakes his head, relaxing his grip on the swordhilt. 'An Elishevan Inquisitor and she is supposedly NOT the one wanting me dead...'

Offering a nod towards Cas for her attempted intervention he keys his microbead, speaking a few terse phrases in the Traders Cant, communicating his instructions with the ship.
'Potential hostiles in the loading dock. Prepare a servitor striketeam for teleportation. Doublecheck any deliveries and prepare for hasty departure.'

Catching up with Aestabon and the trader he pauses, listening in to the techpriest detail what items he finds of interest, ready to step in and assist with negotiations should that prove necessary. He glances over the tables and interjects a coded question for his shipmate into a lull in the exchange.

'Are the spinning gyros of any potential use or mere baubles?'

As the trader turns to look at him his smile is returned and no trace of the previous tension remains. 'I never did catch your name my good man, I am Mordecai Crayn of the Crayn Dynasty. Also, you mentioned that there was something else you wanted to show me.'

[Dark Chiun]

Once inside the shed aestabon speaks up to the trader.
Aestabon:"Good trader, first let us see this item you were going to show my lord here then we can discuss things in more detail, once we know what all you have to offer."

[Astro_sol]

Sebastian tugged at his belt, a poor article that ever worked to keep up a thankless job and hundreds of pounds of fat.

"This is more your area of expertise, gentlemen. I do want a souveneir, but Sebastian tires of this ****stain station. I long for the cold winds of space."

Inwardly, he shuddered. The bitch was an Inquisitor?

He couldn't exactly work out whether or not he wanted to see her again. His hormones, warped as they were, definitely said yes. Common sense, abandoned in a forgotten corner of his mind, said that women = death. Of course, it wasn't specifying.

[Dragonsong]

"I am called Quinn, my lord," the merchant says, somewhat shakily. "Ah, yes. My other item." Taking a deep breath to steady himself, Quinn accompanies Aestabon into the shed. The walls are lined with shelves, but only a single box, locked with a combination pad, remains on them. Grasping it with long-fingered hands, he rapidly keys in first one code, then another, then a third. He eases the box open, catches a small trigger inside with his hand, and finally removes the lid. He takes the item within out gently, as if it were his own infant son, shielding it with his body.

When he turns back to the techpriest, he is holding a thin black cylinder studded with several small buttons. It is about as long as a bolt pistol, and contains a marble-sized opening at the end and a long, marble-width slot at the back. "Many years ago, the Meritech clan of pirates and raiders terrorized the shipping of the Calixis sector. Even when they were finally located, it took the Imperial Navy fifteen years to wipe them out. This was one of their most fearsome weapons: the scatter-cannon."

"I dare not demonstrate. The noise, smoke, and flying, flaming bits of training dummy would attract undue attention."

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon looks suitably impressed with the cannon and types a bit on his data-slate. Aestabon:"I did notice good merchant, that you were fearful of being discovered selling these goods. Perhaps we can work out some sort of an arrangement here. We take these goods off your hands at a, discounted, price as we would purchase it in one lump sum. And it looks to me as if some of these are simply smaller components of larger systems that you perhaps cannot salvage yourself?" He lets the implications of the last statement hang in the air for a pause.

Aestabon:"There is also the matter of this... last message of rain. I am curious as to what it contains and why it would be deemed valuable."

Aestabon quickly types out a message on the data-slate and has it drift over to the captain.

My lord perhaps it would be wise for you to attempt to convince this good merchant to join your empire he seems to be fairly well versed in archeotech lore, and I know how much you do treasure such things. He would be a fine addition to our compliment of traders and merchantmen that we have. Perhaps sponsoring him? I think it would be a fine endeavor to make some profit and a pick of fine archeotech. Though I am not suited for such a thing you are a much more skilled talker than I am.

[ChaoticSky]

Cas remained unruffled by the revelation that the woman was a Inquisitor, disinterested in a way only the ignorant or unhinged could pull off in the face of the malevolence of the Holy Ordos. She continued to stare, only reacting when Tobiana described the ambush to come, at which point her gaze slid away, and she drfited closer to Sebastian. Her eyes scanning around as if she expected to be jumped this very moment, she tugged on his sleeve without looking at him, "Crown." she reminded him, her tone insistent. Not so long ago, shed simply have taken every weapon she could use in the storefront without hesitation, but Sebastian had doubtlessly spent many hours trying to teach her manners and the like. It was quite a hit and miss endeavour, but alteased she wasnt robbing the crew blind anymore... (and what a awkward string of apologies that had warranted!).

[Astro_sol]

The Navigator turned to his undersized companion.

"I haven't forgotten, little one." He glanced at the techpriest, who was in the middle of what appeared to be well-hidden techpriest joy session. If the metal bastard had a mouth, he was probably grinning over this treasure trove.

Sure, they were cool, but nothing really caught his eye. "Don't forget the crown, Techpriest. Seems our little Cas found a new toy."

[Dragonsong]

Quinn merely nods as Aestabon makes his rather hammer-handed statement. "When selling ancient artifacts such as these, one is at constant risk of being accused of tech heresy." His grimness vanishes immediately, however, when Aestabon offers to buy him out. Though he looks over his little collection with loving sorrow at the thought of losing it all, he quickly swallows the emotion as he names a lump sum, full-purchase number. A man has to eat, and mixing business and pleasure was often a sure way to go hungry. The none too subtle question of his salvage spot, however, puts him immediately back on edge.

"You would not believe me if I told you how I came by these devices," he murmurs. "Yes, there is more. Much, much more. But going back..." He trails off with a shudder, then shakes his head. When Aestabon's question about the last message reaches his ears, he seems glad to discuss something else. "A little over a hundred years ago, the planet Rain was colonized by Rogue Traders. It was unremarkable aside from a suitable climate, and the Traders soon moved on. But the colony vanished after discovering strange structures hidden in the planet's forests. This is a recording of the colonists' last broadcast, the last trace of their presence. Perhaps whatever secret they found has some value. Even if not, it is an interesting piece of history."

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon looks at the man strangely, almost as if he is inspecting a piece of malfunctioning tech.
Aestabon:"Explain this fear you have of your salvage spot... such a trove of ancient treasures would be worth any risk would they not? There might even be STC's there by the sheer amount that you have here and there being more? I do not understand your reaction."
Even as he is having the ships external pict-recorder feeds and ship augger scan reports sent to his data-slate to assess what sort of threat is being formed.

[Winthrow]

The message on the floating tablet sparks his interest and Mordechai looks about the ramshackle storefront, running an estimate in his head of the potential profit a store such as this one could generate in a better setting with a higher class of clientele. The quality of the elegant weapon Quinn produced from the lockbox took his breath away for a moment and it was all he could do to keep his reaction from his face. The weapon is discrete, almost plan if one does not consider the obviously exquisite craftsmanship, but lacking the gold inlay and ornaments one would usually expect from a truly ancient device.

Tearing his eyes and attention away from the weapon he notices how Quinn is becoming increasingly defensive, the stream of questions making him less inclined to make a deal the longer the conversation goes on. From the last year of travelling with Aestabon he can also recognize how his voice grows even more flat and mechanical when he is devoting more and more of his formidable mind to some technical issue. The last words sounding more like private musings he steps forward, drawing Quinns attention.

'It was unfortunate that our visit hear drew the attention of an Inquisitor, I assure you that it was never my attention to bring such trouble to your place of business. It is known among collectors that some items of really old technology is hard to identify as such. Take the weapon in your hands for example. While I am not an expert like my learned collegue I would have hazarded that to be an item of Xeno manufacture rather than the holy relics that make up the rest of your inventory. Had the Inquisitor caught sight of that you may well have found yourself answering some... questions.'

Pausing he lets the words and their implied menace sink in, gauging their effect on Quinn. 'Your asking price for these items is a high one, but as we would clean you out I suppose I can see why you might need something to fall back on. Especially as you would need to spend most of it to arrange and outfit another expedition to procure a new haul of items to repair and sell. Braving the warp and the void with limited resources is a most perilous venture indeed, especially now that you may well have the Inquisition watching your every move. There is... however... another possibility.'

He lets his voice trail off and studiously turn to watch Sebastian and Cas speaking outside, or rather, Sebastian speaking while Cas mutters the occasional word in reply, her glassy eyes studying the interior bulkheads with that vacant stare that feels like she is dissecting your body inch by inch in her mind. At Quinns discrete cough he turns back, picking up the train of thought where he left off. 'I would make you a counteroffer. You have an obvious talent for restoring and repairing old technology, I could use that. I would in fact like to offer you a place on the flagship of my fleet, being a part of a new venture. With my resources and your prior knowledge I would launch a full-scale operation of salvage to the source of your artifacts, bringing back as much of the treasures found as my holds can take.'

'I understand that you as a businessman might be unwilling to give up your source which is why I am making this unique offer, your knowledge, and your current inventory, buys you a share in the complete haul, less the costs of salvage of course. In addition to that I would set you up with a new shop for selling items from the salvage, a shop in a nicer location than this where you might attract noble customers, people who would buy just about anything as long as it is old and unusual, people with little understanding of the true value of these items, but a willingness to pay a substantial premium for them.'

Raising his hand and rubbing his thumb and forefingers together in the wellknown gesture for Thrones he lets the crested ring on his finger flash in the light from the overhead luminators. 'If you would allow me to be presumptious the way you were earlier I would hazard that you value the opportunity to work with archeotech, this plan would give you more items than you could properly restore and sell for ten to twenty years. And in addition to that... you would be a venture under the protection of the Crayn Dynasty, while it might not carry the weight it did two-hundred years ago, it should go a long way to shield you against the attentions of overzealous Inquisitors.'

'What say you Quinn? Do you wish to join me on the path of the stars?'

[Dragonsong]

The sensor report from the bridge of Saint Celestine's Fortune comes up with nothing out of the ordinary. Since the vessel is moored extremely close to the Court of the Dead, large crowds have passed through the area since you first arrived, and continue to do so. No one has walked up the boarding tube since you left, and no one is loitering directly outside it, but it would be easy to hide in the press of the crowd. Aboard the ship all personnel are accounted for and no extra bio-signatures are detected, so there haven't been any boarders.

Quinn reacts to Aestabon's persistent questioning by silently drawing further and further into himself, shaking his head slowly. "Any risk? What technology is worth your soul?" His murmurs seem to be as much to himself as to the Techpriest. "Better to let it lie. After the last time..." He trails off into a brooding silence, his eyes faraway. He remains such through most of Mordechai's speech, though occasional nods prove that he is listening. When the Rogue Trader stops speaking there is a long silence as Quinn turns and bores his honey-colored eyes deep into his potential employer.

"If you knew what you were suggesting," the merchant begins, his voice a slow whisper, "you might not be so eager, Lord Crayn. But my options are few, as you are well aware." He pauses, taking a deep, shuddering breath to steady himself. "I will go with you, and reveal my source, provided that you are willing to meet three conditions."

"First," he says, ticking his arguments off on his fingers, "that I will have first pick of the devices recovered. Second, that you will secure transport for me and my new inventory back to the Calixis sector when this is all finished. Third," he says, his voice growing deadly serious, "that you will heed my advice without hesitation. This is for your safety as much as my own; I would rather explain my wares to the Inquisition than return to my source unprepared."

He crosses his arms. "The second condition is negotiable. If our relationship proves to be a mutually beneficial one, and we manage to survive, I will consider continuing to accompany you. The other two are final. There are some risks I will not undertake without the promise of rich reward, and there are some things I will not risk at all."

As he finishes speaking, Mordechai's microbead chirps; an incoming communication from the Fortune. "Captain," comes the husky whisper of your ship's eerie voidmaster, Karaile Krane, "we've just been hailed by the Adeptus Arbites. They've forbidden us from leaving, and they're demanding that they be allowed aboard for an inspection. There's no inspection scheduled, and we're carrying nothing illegal." She licks her lips in anticipation, the sound oddly distorted by the vox link. "They have a squad approaching the ship through the boarding tube. Should we kill them?"

[Dark Chiun]

Hearing about the arbites seems to have enraged aestabon for some reason.
He angrily activates his comm bead and lets out several streams of binary into it.
Aestabon(Binary):"Seal boarding hatch. Record number of arbites coming up boarding ramp, then activate number of murder servitors = to twice their number. Have servitors waiting at ramp entrance. With orders set to kill any who forcibly open the hatch. (Pause) Prepare teleportarium for activation wait for me to confirm with captain for activation. (Pause) Prepare to activate defensive turrets and train them on boarding ramp. Pause for captains conformation on this order."


After letting out the quick bursts of binary aestabon turns to the captain. Aestabon(house tongue):"Captain might I suggest we train defensive turrets on boarding ramp and use teleportarium to return to the ship. I have orders prepared simply need to send confirm order for them to be carried out."

[Dark Chiun]

Further considering things. Aestabon sends a binary message to the mechanicus shipyard operators.

Aestabon(Binary):"Unauthorized arbite inspection on the ship 'St. celestines fortune' docked in shipyard's. Request intervention."

[Winthrow]

The chirp of the microbead pulls Mordecais attention away from the deal in progress. Raising his hand to his ear he sends a response to the Fortune. Speaking rapidly in the house cant. 'Delay them outside the hatch until I am back onboard. Contact the Arbites on station to verify that the party is theirs, then send a request to the navy asking if their ceding authority of inspecting ships in dock. If they press the issue claim security issues as we've had trouble with assassins. We will return shortly by teleporter.'

Listening to Aestabons quick suggestion he holds up a palm in a "slow-down" gesture and responds. 'Program the turrets but don't retrain them unless I signal, no overt signals of hostility before we are back onboard. And hold off on the transport just a little longer.'

Raising his voice he calls out in low Gothic 'Sebastian, Cas, we have trouble at the Fortune pull in close and keep an eye out for attackers here.'

Finally turning back to Quinn he takes a deep breath, gathering his thoughts on the deal. 'You may have the first pick within reason, should we for example locate a complete STC in working order it would be outside the frame of the deal, likewise if you would request choose a starship or something else in the same scale. Transportation back is not a problem, and should this endeavour turn out favorable you will definitely have a place within the House. Your advice will be heeded provided that you explain the dangers and risks as far as feasible beforehand.'

'Now, there is some trouble back at my ship and I need to return there momentarily, gather whatever things you need and come with me out to your storefront, I'll have us transported back and don't want anything, or anyone, left behind.'

Preparing to turn to the door and hurry outside he stops, a terrible suspicion striking him and he once more voxes the ship. 'Verify with the Arbites the name of whoever is heading that squad for inspection. It seems there are Elishevans active on the station and supposedly one of them called Marcus is planning an ambush of some sort.'

[Astro_sol]

Sebastian simply turned his head and grinned at his Captain's words.

"Aye, sir. C'mon, Cas," he said, bringing a stubby arm behind her head to guide her back to the group. "Looks like vacation time is over." He adjusted his hat and lay a hand on the hellpistol at his side. "Work, work," he whistled in a delighted tone.

It looked like things were getting interesting.

[ChaoticSky]

At the mention of 'work', Cas nodded, though she had already been watching for threats, she keyed her own bead, ..and whos idea was it to give her one anyway? "We should kill the arbites before they have a chance to attack us." she commented, "Better to kill them now than risk letting them achieve their goals."

Moving with Sebastian's hand, she walked over to the captain... then kept going, she hopped over the counter, went to where the crown had been left, and claimed the weapon, firmly. With a glance around, almost daring someone to object, she hopped back over the counter, and rejoined Navigator in following the captain out, the Crown clutched in her hands, a small smile on her face as she absently ran her fingers along the edge... clearly looking forward to getting to use it.

[Dragonsong]

"Confirmed," Karaile finally replies, clearly somewhat disappointed. Meanwhile Quinn drags out several crates from his storage shed and begins to quickly but carefully pack his inventory, his silent nod providing enough evidence of his acceptance of Mordechai's terms. Few among the crowd not far away take any notice of another merchant preparing to leave; fortunes are made and lost every day here amongst those who have a chance at them in the first place, and Quinn was never one of them. One more relatively poor soul packing up his worldly possessions is hardly out of the ordinary.

Though he blinks when Cas takes the Crimson Crown, Quinn finally just shrugs; he knows he'll be paid.

As he finishes packing the crates and turns to quickly stuffing a travel bag with clothes and personal effects, Karaile's voice echoes out of the microbead again. "Captain, the Navy says that the Arbites have the right to inspect a ship that's docked at the station. I can't raise the Arbites at their command post; they're not responding to my hails. The boarding party is threatening to cut their way in." There's a breathless anticipation in her voice, and the sound of a blade being sharpened is clearly audible in the background. "We're locked on your location. Are you ready for recall?"

[Winthrow]

While Quinn quickly gathers his things Mordechai directs the others in helping with the crated artifacts, stacking them up around the central table next to the heavy cutting beam and projector. Noticing Cas clutching the brutal throwing weapon he nods in her direction, showing his approval. 'If any of you see an item of immediate usefulness, take it, we don't know what this confrontation will entail.'
That said he collects the mirrorshield and straps it around his left forearm, adjusting it the best he can under the circumstances and locating the activator after a brief exchange with Quinn. With all the things gathered he quickly looks about, estimating the center of the group and pulls a deep green orb with a number of buttons on it from a pocket on the inside of his cloak. Setting the yield of the beacon to 25 feet he sets it down in the center of the table just as Karailes voice once more brings him bad news.

'We are ready for transport on this end... bring us in.' Clenching his jaw he loosens the sword in its sheath, threaten his ship would they? We will just see about that.

[Dark Chiun]

Hearing the exchange over the comm's which he constantly keeps patched into. Aestabon quickly sends a binary message to the tech-priests that control the murder servitors making sure that they are set to kill anything that forces their way onto the ship. That being done he removes his axe from its belt loop making sure that it was still in working order.

Aestabon:"If those scum try to board our ship while in mechanicus territory they will be executed."In a tone hinting that he would be doing the executing himself.

[Dragonsong]

"Good," Karaile replies. "Stand by for recall." After a moment's pause, the air surrounding the Rogue Trader and his little entourage becomes blurred, as though intensely hot. It continues like this until it's impossible to see any more of the station than a few vague spots of color and then, with a feeling like having one's intestines pulled up through one's mouth that lasts but an awful moment, the five voidfarers vanish from Port Wander. How long it will be until they return, if indeed they return at all, is impossible to say.

An instant later the high, vaulted teleportarium takes shape around its newly-recalled occupants, great pipes hissing and bright blue lights strobing all around, above, and beneath the massive circular pad on which all arrivals find themselves. Aside from the thousands of components that twine their way along the walls, their ancient design all but incomprehensible in this day and age, the chamber is unoccupied save for the lithe form of Karaile Krane. She stands at the bank of wire-covered computers just below the pad, ensuring that neither her employer nor one of his allies ends up with a limb or two left behind.

Tall and lithe to the point of being gaunt, with every inch of her that is visible beneath her thick Ork-leather armor covered in corded muscle and dozens of scars, Karaile exudes an aura of brooding menace that could make an Ogryn back down. Her midnight black hair is cropped short, military style, to prevent opponents from grabbing it easily. Her eyes, the bright, eager purple of a water lily, are alight with barely-controlled mania. They stare out from behind a skull-faced mask of worked silver. Two curved blades, each as long as one of Mordechai's arms, hang across her back.

"Captain," she says, straightening and moving away from the monitors to approach the group and give a stiff, military half-bow, her right hand clenched in a fist over her heart. "Welcome back, my lord. The murder servitors are in position, and I've put the crew on yellow alert. If you give the order, we'll kill them all before they know what hit 'em. I also have their frequency if you want to speak with them." She extends one thin but somehow brawny arm, offering a handheld vox transmitter. "I can have someone see your guest to some of our spare quarters, if that would help."

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon levels a muderous glare at the woman. Wondering what she thought she was doing operating such an ancient piece of machinery when they had tech-priests on the ship just for that purpose.

Aestabon:"What do you think you are doing?! Touching such machinery as the ancient teleportarium. We have tech-priests just for this task. I should throw them out of the airlock for letting you touch it."

After his outburst he started considering how he could insure that this never happened again.

[Astro_sol]

Sebastian tilted his hat to the well-built voidmaster. "Ma'am." When Aestabon started going off on her, he shrugged. Techpriests and their tech. Still, he could understand a little bit. Anyone actually trying to hurt his ship would meet a grisly end in the sight of his Warp Eye.

"Captain, where do you need me? I can return to my post for immediate departure, unless you want Cas to have some company, what with Arbites coming aboard and all. Don't want any unnecessary bloodstains," he said, somehow rolling on the balls of his feet.

[Dragonsong]

Karaile calmly meets Aestabon's furious gaze, the eye of calm in the center of the storm. "I was informed that this was a matter of some urgency," she coolly replies. "If the Captain had wanted to let the Arbites cut their way into his ship while I ran up and down the halls yelling for a tin man, I'm sure that would have been his order. Since he requested to be recalled quickly, however, it seemed wiser to use a machine I am fully capable of operating to carry out that order."

She makes a low, flourishing bow. "You have my deepest apologies."

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon seriously doubted her story as by his calculation it would have been simpler for her to call in to the tech-priests that were in the area already than to leave the command deck and make her way down here. Why she was off of the command deck at the time would be better asked by the captain.

He starts moving towards the exit when he responds to her.
Aestabon:"While you may feel fully capable of operating it I do not feel you are. The enginseers in this section are much better qualified for the task. I shall have to find out myself why they are not at their post, there should be an engineseer here at all times in case of emergencies. My memory units record that such orders were given before. Now let us take care of this intrusion. I find myself to be in foul temperment due to this interuption.

And in the sacred mechanicus shipyards no less. They should not have any power here seeing as this is mars territory. I think these naval and arbite commanders have gotten large heads and forgotten that terra and mars are allies not ruler and subject."

[Winthrow]

As Mordechai is busy contacting the bridge for a quick update on what is known about the force outside the door, the exchange between Aestabon and Karaile passes without his notice. His attention snaps back to matters at hand after that brief delay, the clenching of his jaw signalling his irritation. 'Efficient as always Karaile, very good. Artificer Quinn will need secure quarters and my purchases needs to be moved under guard to one of the mirrorholds, preferably the small one near my quarters. Make sure the ship is ready for departure at a moments notice. I trust that the Master-at-Arms already has fireteams at all exterior airlocks. If not that should be corrected at once. Cas... may assist him if she wishes it.' Knowing that the mere threat of Cas overseeing a task is usually enough to... inspire the crew he counts on the orders to be obeyed before he has made his way to the airlock.

Quickly looking over towards Sebastian the captain quickly weighs his options. 'We will not be able to translate into the warp this close to the station in any case, but have your apprentice start up the engine in case we will need it in a hurry. I will go to the boarding tube and meet this supposed Arbiter and his inspection. If you would rather not meet them, aid in getting the ship prepared. Cas may go where she wishes but we do not want to provoke an attack down there.'

'Aestabon, we go to greet our guests. Make sure that not too many of the servitors are visible when we open the hatches. Password for going active will be Ultima'

Tuning his microbead to the frequency offered by Karaile he steps off the platform, confident that his orders will be obeyed without question. His long legs set a rapid pace as he chooses the shortest route towards the boardingtube. Armed boarding party, this is Mordechai Crayn accredited Rogue Trader and Captain of the vessel St Celestine's Fortune. Identify yourself. Be advised that attempts at breaching the airlock will be considered hostile and dealt with as such. Struggling to keep his rising temper under control he speaks in a clipped voice, pace increasing gradually as he walks.

[Dark Chiun]

Hearing the captains order aestabon quickly sends a short message in binary to servitor control to imput the new commands for them. He also instructs them to keep the old ones and that any attempt at forced entry be met with lethal force.

[ChaoticSky]

Cas hung back for a moment, swaying too and frow as if uncertain, then seemed to reach a decision, and followed the captain towards the tube, "Dont worry, I'll be good." she told him in response to his comment.... though she continued to fondle her new weapon worryingly. "Though I still think wed have to kill them either way, it just saves time to do it now."

When the group arrived at the airlock. Cas peeled away from the captain, and moved off to the side, slipping into the shadow of one of the murder servitors waiting at the airlock. She hopped up onto the back of the hulked up monstrosity, using its bulk as cover... and a shield if the meeting turns into a bloodbath from the getgo. A private grin spread across her features for a instant, then vanished, and her hand tightened on the 'crown.

[Astro_sol]

The Navigator smirked at Mordechai.

"Well, then, Captain. Lead the way. I'm sure you won't mind me keeping an...eye on them," he replied, tilting his hat at his final remark. He followed the Rogue Trader to the airlock, his round mass somehow appearing to slide across the ground. Sebastian was far past noticing the glances that shot his way, as well as the frenzied whispers.

No one was going to pollute his ship with Arbites filth.

[Dragonsong]

Karaile ignores Aestabon's continued admonitions, nodding as the captain gives his orders. She turns on her heel in one swift, sinuous motion, her muscles taut, and it is clear that she is disappointed to have been given alternate orders when she could be partaking in the potential battle, but her loyalty has never been in question in all the years she has served aboard the Fortune. As she and Quinn head down one hallway, one to prepare the vessel for departure and the other to settle into his new quarters, the rest of the party turns the opposite way and heads toward the main airlock.

Saint Celestine's Fortune, like most voidships of her class, is truly vast, but long experience with its labyrinth of lift systems and corridors allows Mordechai and his entourage to make their way swiftly toward the threatened area. Meanwhile, the Rogue Trader raises the Arbites on the vox. "Crayn. I don't know how you got back on your ship, but it doesn't change much. I have a backup plan." The voice on the other end is scrambled electronically; it's impossible to tell even if it belongs to a man or a woman. But nothing can disguise the menace dripping from every syllable.

"You see, the Adepus Arbites command post is full of corpses right now, and I have some very convincing evidence that you were behind it. Unless you want the grieving remainder of the Arbites to have the Navy blow your ship out of the void, you'll come talk to me outside your ship. Alone. You have two minutes." The transmission is cut off just as the group reaches the airlock, where Master-at-Arms Anders Octavius stands amid the fireteams he has directed to the area. A big, burly veteran of a Catachan regiment, with acid burns and fang scars to show for it, he transitioned from the role of Master Sergeant to Master-at-Arms with ease.

"Captain," he says, throwing up a lazy salute. "I count six of them outside. They look like Arbites, but their protocol is all off. Either they're damn sloppy, or they're not who they say they are. Anyway, there's no way they could do much to the ship. If they step into the airlock without your say-so, we'd shred them instantly. They must have an ace in the hole, sir, is my way of thinking." He sights down the barrel of his immaculately-maintained lasgun, then lifts it to his shoulder. "Should we give 'em hell?" Sure enough, six black-armored Arbites are visible on the external security monitor.

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon looks somewhat amused at the strangers threat. He must not be aware that any messages over vox can be recorded and his implants let him do such a thing. Even if they could only keep limited recordings that was surely enough.

Aestabon:"Captain, I humbly suggest we train the defensive weaponry on them and raise the navy informing them about this attempted deceit. That is if I was successfully able to record the message."

"Yes yes I do have the recording. So how do you wish to proceed captain. As we now have evidence against them we could kill them now but I suppose that taking one or more alive would be a much better idea. I need some more servitors anyways we lost too many during the, accident."

[Astro_sol]

"Oh dear. That's...not good," Sebastian noted as he looked at the monitor. "But perhaps we already have enough evidence to incriminate them. Perhaps blast them, but leave one or two for interrogation." He flipped out a fan almost too quickly, waving at his face. "Whatever happens, I hope this will all be cleaned up before we depart." He squinted at the monitor. "Although I would love a set of Arbites armor," he muttered to no one in particular, scratching his chin(s) with his free hand.

[Winthrow]

Quickly looking about the loading bay Mordechai tries to make a quick estimate of the tactical situation, knowing that he himself never would charge such odds he settles on a new plan and begin giving out orders.

'Aestabon, send that recording to Navy headquarters on a priority signal, add my authority if you think that will kick it up the ladder more quickly. Also inform them that we will be taking steps to deal with armed intruders.'

Pointing towards the autogun-armed servitor Cas is clinging to. 'Octavius, with the exception of that one, pull all the servitors back out of sight then find yourself a good position to set up with that rifle, preferably somewhere they won't see you until it's too late.'

Watching the heavy servitors moving away from the room into the corridors leading away Mordechai makes sure that everything is set up to his liking before taking the next step. 'Aestabon, now please train the turrets on the boardingtube, if you could set one to minimum impact somehow we might be able to use it to hole the boardingtube without wrecking any more of the station. I want to drive them in here, not vaporize them if I can avoid it.' He pauses a little before turning back to adress the few crewmembers still guarding the airlock. close the doors behind us and once I give the sign, open both doors of the airlock, I want them to have a straight run in here. Be prepared for just about anything, if they could kill a command post filled with Arbiters there is no telling what kind of tricks they are bringing.

This time he deliberately does not use the vox but rather adress the armed men through the speakers set into the outer panel of the airlock. 'I will not step alone into the hands of my enemies, but you are welcome to come in and face me on even terms. I would infact recommend it, the machinespirit of one of the defensive turrets have been acting aggressively of late and an accidental discharge could well hole the boardingtube you are in. Or leave you in tiny pieces floating in space for that matter.' Motioning for the doors to be opened Mordechai readies his weapon under the cover of his cloak. 'You should probably hurry...'

Turning the relay back off again he adds in a low voice to his companions. 'Try to take one or two alive if possible, we'll need something to toss to the Arbiters...'

[Dark Chiun]

Hearing his captains orders aestabon quickly prepares the recording for transmission and sends it on the highest priority channel to the navy as he can, aswell as informing them that they are preparing to repel hostiles.

Aestabon quickly messaged in binary to have the turret command he had prepared beforehand executed and to start on the far side of the boarding tube and work their way in to better herd them. He quickly orders that they use the multi-lasers rather than some of the heavier ordanance.

[Astro_sol]

Sebastian drew his hellpistol and stood next to his Captain. These men meant harm to his Captain, which meant harm to the ship, which meant lasers to the face.

[Dragonsong]

"If you do that," the scrambled voice coolly replies, "you're dead. Give the Navy an excuse to believe you're hostile to the station on top of the situation they've already got and they'll blow you out of the void immediately. The question becomes this: which of us has more to lose? Still waiting; one minute." The figures outside, so far as the monitor shows, don't even flinch at the threat of a messy death by decompression. They all remain stock still, their armor gleaming in the light of the giant sun, their weapons lowered but firmly gripped in black-gloved hands. Whether zealots or just supremely confident, it doesn't seem that anything will shake their resolve.

A moment later, Aestabon receives a return hail from the office of the Navy. "The recording you've transmitted says only that convincing evidence exists that you have murdered over twenty Arbites. The wording, however, is suspicious. Neither party shall be permitted to leave the station. Navy security forces will arrive within five minutes to take both parties into custody and determine the truth of the situation. Anyone seen holding a weapon will be put down. The transmission then terminates. Meanwhile, Octavius repositions his forces as his captain has ordered. Within moments, all is in readiness.

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon attempts to record the second threat and does not respond to the naval message knowing they cannot take him into custody due to his position as a member of the mechanicus and the fact that they are on mechanicus territory. He also doesn't respond to the threat from the false arbitrators as he knew the turrets were already starting to fire and he probably could not have halted the command to fire even if he wanted. So he simply started typing on his dataslate notes on how to improve ship security in the future, namely putting some form of kill canisters outside of the doors so he could simply arm them and multiple multi-meltas go off down the boarding tube to kill any attempted boarders. He also begins to log and organize the various threat recordings and events that transpires to better analize later.

Pausing in his typing aestabon looks up.Aestabon:"Captain, the navy responded, they say that we are to be taken into custody. Useless fools, and that anyone carrying weapons would be 'neutalized'. I shall tell you now if any of these impetuous naval tramps attempt to take me into 'custody' then they shall be killed and find themselves answering to the mechanicus for their obvious attempt at breaching ancient treaties."

[ChaoticSky]

Cas hissed softly at the navy message, looked down at the Crown in her hand, and then over to Mordechai "Should... I leave?" she asked, clearly, she did not want to, but there was no combination of Reaver and Navy that would end well. If her origins were discovered, it would go bad, but if she disappeared into the ship, there was throne all chance of navy inspectors ever finding her... or making any note of her if they did.

[Astro_sol]

Sebastian started to tip his hat, pistol in hand. He wasn't sweating through sheer effort.

"Am I killing people, or what?"

[Winthrow]

Growling in frustration at the answer Mordecai shoves the las pistol back into it's holster, making a chopping hand signal towards Aestabon. 'Belay that order to fire on the tube, that Groxspawn is right, I don't want to get into a shooting match with the Navy here if I can avoid it. How far away are they?'

With a quick nod towards the his Engineseer Prime in response to the answer he strides forward, heading towards the airlock while tallying his assets as quickly as possible. Wondering how to best implement them in the coming confrontation. Octavius, new plan, find a spot with a view out the airlock. Sebastian... keep out of sight but I might need you in a hurry, we may still end up killing them but I'm going to try and stall them first.

Reaching the inner airlock he punches the code into the keypad and the massive doors cycle open, leaving only the outer door between him and the armored men. 'Aestabon, confer with Karaile and your priests. I want all systems up and running at their best. Passive scans for our surroundings, if there is a ship moving to box us in I want to know about it. If someone is trying to get onboard through any other gate I want them disarmed, stripped and in the brig or bleeding out on my deck. Also, see if you can use your servoskull or something to record what takes place in here... we might need the evidence, or destroy it later if it is not in our favor. Cas...'

As he talks to Aestabon he keeps working the keypad, performing the rites that will allow both doors of the airlock to be open at the same time. The final part finishes with a murmured prayer of benediction just after mentioning Cas. Turning around, he looks her up and down, a small smile playing on his face. She is wearing the pretty dress with integrated carapace armor that Sebastian had had created for her. The armor is still showing but much of it's martial appearance is mellowed by the dress. And to anyone not knowing her skills or the parts of her history she sometimes spouts, she could look innocent enough, at first.

'Cas, leave your new toy with the servitor, infact, hide any weapon that can be seen, just make sure you keep one of your bolt pistols somewhere you can get to it. If you hear me use the word siblings come running towards me and call out "Uncle Cai, uncle Cai don't go away!" that should hopefully confuse them long enough to get close. If you reach me, hug me around the waist and avoid looking at them. If I do this it will be toget you close enough to be effective in a fight and I could need all of you within moments, just don't be seen too early. Oh, and Cas... if I manage to delay them long enough, and it seems like that patrol from the Navy is about to turn up, get away from here and hide among the ratings.'

His orders delivered Mordecai punches the final control and steps into the airlock as the warning light begins to flash and there comes a series of rumblings and creaks from grinding gears as the locks securing the outer hatch of the airlock cycles open. Striking a pose in the middle of the empty airlock the captain cuts a dashing figure in his fine armor, the gleaming sheath of his prized sword hanging loosely at his side. Jutting his chin out Mordecai watches the final lock disengage and the door smoothly folding back into sections.

The slight pressure differential between the two open spaces cause a gust of air to brush past him into the loading bay, causing his cloak to billow out behind him. 'You wanted me... I am here. I will not step off my deck for just about anyone despite how you would attempt to blackmail me. Now, identify yourself and let me know what you want with me.'

[Dark Chiun]

Muttering furiously aestabon cuts power to the turrets knowing that there is by far not enough time to stop them by issuing the orders.
Aestabon:"Captain, we cannot let them live, we know not what their position of power is on this station. If it comes down to their word against ours and they are in a position of power then I am sure you know how that will end up. It is better that the dead cannot talk. My suggestion is that we teleport them onto the ship then subdue them and take them down to the, reclimation room. Better that they simply dissapear into the multitude of servitor ranks than there be a body to find."

[Dragonsong]

We understand your situation, Magos Aestabon, comes the reply from the Explorator outpost. A force of Skitarii has been dispatched to your location and should arrive shortly. Do not cause damage to the void anchors or other station components, but do not allow these intruders to escape.

The airlock cycles open, Mordechai framed by the retreating steel and tousled by the wind like a hero of the grand operas of Holy Terra itself. As commanded, his Master-at-Arms has repositioned the fire teams, all safely out of sight. Despite the mighty defenses surrounding him, the Rogue Trader appears alone. The whirring external turrets, white-hot with readiness, slow in their spinning to a gradual stop as new entreaties reach their machine spirits. The stage is set. The lone, shining figure facing down the sinister, dark-armored six at a distance of a few yards at most.

"Mordechai Crayn," the one in the lead proclaims, as grim as the herald of death itself, "your sins are many. One way or another, today or another day, at our hands or at the hands of others, you will pay for them. The blood of Our Martyr is on your hands, and that of all your line." In each syllable is cold hatred of the purest sort, the sort that dictates the course of lives. "In His name, I pronounce you guilty. You are marked; prepare your soul." As one, the six of them pull grenades from their vests and sprint for the airlock, one shout on their lips: "FOR VANDIRE!"

[Winthrow]

Years of instruction in self defence and commanding men seems to coalesce within Mordecai during the few heartbeats the situation turns from risky to lethal. Once again face to face with armed men wanting nothing but his blood but this time shouting the name of a bogeyman half-remembered from endless lessons about the House of Crayns glorious history. The weight of all those centuries seems to land squarely on his shoulders as his eyes grow wide and a mere whisper is caught by the microbead. Oh Terra... The moment of shock is gone the moment false arbiters charge towards him and he spins on his heel, he knows better than to attempt to wrestle with madmen holding grenades.

Running flat out back through the airlock Mordecai barely throws a glance over his shoulder towards the fanatic attackers. Scrabbling for the hilt of his trusted chainsword he shouts orders into his microbead.'Ultima! The word is Ultima! For Crayn and the Emperor make them bleed!'


Initiative: 11 roll in dice thread.
Action: Move (half or full depending on distance 3/6 meters) back into loading dock, if possible round corner of airlock door to leave clear field of fire.
Action: Ready Chainsword (if I still have a half action left)
Reaction: Dodge (if applicable)

[Astro_sol]

Sebastian had joined the other men inside the airlock, waiting for his Captain to return. When he heard the shouting, he knew something was up. His hellpistol drawn, he pointed it forward with his unusual quickness, his face twisted into a snarl.

"Frak Vandire, and you, and your mother, too!"

Staying with the other men. Sebastian may have to eye these guys to death. He'll take a half action to aim and delay other actions for now, so he has a half action ready to go.

Initiative is 9, in case you're wondering.

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon waits for his captain to make it through the airlock, making sure the external pict-casters were recording before activating the emergency airlock shutdown so both inner and outer door closes, hoping to lock the crazies inside the airlock. Better to have damage to the ship than have the crazies damage the station and have it blamed on them. Aestabon:"Captain I suggest you get in before the inner airlock door closes."

[ChaoticSky]

Cas had followed the Captain's order's slipping her knife into her dress and leaving her Crown dangling around the neck of the servitor, she pulled back up the corridor into the closest adjacent doorway, just out of sight and waited for the signal to put on the little show.. she knew well enough that she was a poor actor, but it wouldnt matter as long as she could get close enough to put a knife in them before they started shooting.

However, it was all for moot, and robbed her of her new toy when they charged with grenades, which she couldnt help but think, would have been a excellent practice target. As it was, even she wasnt willing to run straight at a bunch of guys intent on blowing themselves up, so she pulled one of her boltpistols. They had been a gift from Mordecai when she joined the crew... she might have neglected to mention at the time that she basically never used one before except in play, she preferred more personal methods. But hey, no time like the present to practice.

[Dragonsong]

Mordechai's reaction may not be terribly heroic, but it undoubtedly saves his life. Retreating into the airlock as Aestabon begins the emergency closure cycle, he tears around the corner and back into the halls of his ship, clearing the line of fire. The fire teams let off a volley, but those shots that make it home before the inner door cycles closed appear to have done nothing more than glance off that gleaming black armor. As the heavy doors slam with force intended to keep out the pull of pure emptiness, all is silent for a moment as Octavius gives the order to cease fire. And then, a moment later, chaos returns.

A cloud of blood, smoke, and metal erupts into the corridor, and fewer Arbites stream through the opening. They must've flattened themselves against the outer door while two of them pushed themselves up against the inner door and let the grenades go, shielding the rest from the blast by muffling it with their own bodies. Those remaining, now deprived of their grenades, have drawn Arbite power cudgels. They crash into the security teams, who were more prepared for a ranged engagement, as they work to clear a path to the Rogue Trader whose blood they eagerly seek...

[Dark Chiun]

Aestabon seeing them get through raises his arm and lets off a full auto burst. They must truly be insane to have set off the grenades in a confined space and surely cannot have come out of it unharmed. The concussive force alone contained so should have done them some harm. He aims at one of them the best he can see is the one that screamed out in the boarding tube, and if he is not visible or discernable then he aims at the one that is on his right and center.

[Winthrow]

The loud explosion making him snap his gaze back towards the inner airlock Mordecai sees the Arbites emerge through the mist of smoke and blood. The initial surprise and stab of fear at their attack dies away and in their place the smoldering anger at the fate of his house and family catches flame. Hunting them down, spreading lies and sabotaging their ships, settings traps, poisons and finally inciting a riot against the very heart of his family. All these things and more his enemies has done, and now, they attack the last hope of Crayn on his own ship. His OWN SHIP!

Ripping the chainblade from its sheath Mordecai advances on the figures, his position along the wall just beside the airlock allowing him to flank them. Raising the blade high he thumbs the activator and the blade roars to life with a rage that seems to mirror his own as he brings it down in a powerful attack against the nearest foe. The ancient machine spirit hidden within the blade is somewhat simple but it seems to recognize a foe of old as its multitude of serrated teeth lacerate the air, hungry to bite into their foe.


Half-action Ready
Half-action Standard attack

Rolls
Rolling for attack

vs Melee skill +10 (best craftsmanship)
[roll0] vs 51 (modified)

Rolling for damage (Rending roll an extra die, discard lowest result)( Best quality+1)
[roll1]
[roll2]

Edit: it seems he got a little too carried away with smiting his foe, best quality weapons doesn't jam but that is a rather spectacular miss.

[Astro_sol]

4 Arbites, or whatever they actually were, ran through the dust and smoke. Sebastian covered his eyes with a free hand.

"Bollocks!" he shouted, wiping at his eyes. "Filth! On MY ship! Captain, avert your eyes!"

And with that, he stepped forward and tilted the front of his enormous hat upwards, revealing a glowing, screaming eye. "Gaze upon your death, you cretins!"

Move action will be to step in forward so technically everyone important is behind me. The Captain is facing away from me. Also, I rolled poorly, so it should be easy enough to look away from.

Other standard action is of course to use my eye. I rolled an 81. Debating a fate point reroll out of my five fate points.

[ChaoticSky]

Cas pulled the trigger, putting a round at the first target to present its self... then she noticed they no longer had their grenades. A cold smile spread across her features, like a icy flower closing around the heart, and she took off running, her gun vanishing into her dress and her knife appearing. She flicked the blade out, her thumb drifting over the activation rune, sheathing it in rippling azure light that trailed behind the blade as she ran at the enemies


Half: Fire
Half: Move (Free: stow gun/draw powerknife [Quickdraw])

Meh, mssed my shot pretty far off Roll (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showpost.php?p=14010441&postcount=26). but thats okay, ive got a knife with their names on it.

im pretty far back of everyone else, so i figure move now, charge next round. *nod*