Rogue Trader-Wealth of The Expanse (IC)

[positivespace]

Date-146th day of the 818th year, M41

Location-Belas System
The Belas system. Dominated by a common Red Giant star many times larger than the star of Holy Terra, the system sits a short trip coreward and spinward of Port Wander, and is usually ignored by those making their way to the Maw as Port Wander is much more popular. There are three planets here, none of which have the dubious honor of dragging a moon in their wake. A small, unamed grey and brown rock sits towards the edge of the system, shattered and followed by a trail of asteroids and wrecked ships from the battle that cleared the pirates out of the system thirty-seven years ago.
Close enough to the sun to be rendered uninhabitable without environmental protection is Perell, a slightly larger reddish rock owned by Victoria von Perell, easily the richest woman in the system, which is no surprise, given her heritage. A lucrative promethium mining operation is run here, a portion of it traded automatically to the Imperial fueling stations located here and above Belas, and some traded to Tybalt Armaments for use in the company's munitions.

Belas is the planet the system is named for. An Earth-Sized planet taken up mostly by ocean, with one large continent that consists mainly of shrubland and mountain ranges along the main tectonic plates. The planet is mostly at a medieval tech level, but the various noble houses have traded with outsiders for 'exotic' higher tech items like autoguns and combat drugs for their warriors. Three docking stations orbit Belas, one Imperial Station, wherein the planet's small Adeptus Mechanicus presence is based, one run by Jens and Karloff, a wide-spread shipwright family, and one owned by Victoria von Perell. These docking stations are usually only visited by the Calixis Sector's smaller patrol voidcraft, as a small number of Calixis Sector frigate patrols and merchant escorts stop off here to refuel, the merchant ships sometimes offering some small amount of trade for the planet below now that the pirates have been cleared out and a minor Imperial presence established. No patrol is here now, but a pair of escort frigates and their merchant guild charge currently occupy the Imperial docking station.

The docking stations offer shuttles-for a fee-down to Belas Primus, Belas' capital and only spaceport. A small, walled-in city that only allows in those with the proper writ of passage or currency enough to be considered serious buyers, Belas Primus houses the PDF barracks and training grounds, Tybalt Armament's factories, the planetary defenses, landing spaces for sub-stellar craft, and a decently sized commercial and entertainment district. Nearly all of the planet's business is done here.

You arrived recently, docking at the von Perell station for it's more affordable refueling prices, and have been here for roughly two days while your loyal crew recuperates and searches for potential recruits on the surface of Belas and the docking station and the Vercingetorix is refueled. The arrival of a Rogue Trader has caused a bit of a stir, and though you haven't actually had a chance to visit the planet until now due to the work that had to be sorted out on the station, you've already received contact from several of the planet's more important folk. Francis Tybalt, owner and founder of Tybalt Armaments has offered Lord-Captain Yronwood and up to twenty of his crew reservations at his next supposedly famous party, scheduled for tomorrow at sundown. Victoria von Perell has offered a dinner invitation for the Lord-Captain and a few close officers and crew members for a very important private dinner at her estate on Perell in four days time. Planetary Governor Hans Serghar has requested to speak with the Lord-Captain this night, and the noble houses of Norhaus, Alwinne, and Jonnson have requested a chance to speak with the Lord-Captain at some point before you leave.

Your private shuttle has just let you off at Belas Primus's spaceport. It is early morning, the sun having risen fully about an hour ago. The bitter tang of spaceport-stink is overwhelmed by a medley of smells emanating from the open-air market centered around the Tybalt factory to the north. To the north-east is where most of the bars and entertainment buildings of the city are located, also sporting its own scent-though this one is more distinctly ridden with sweet smokes and the smell of fermented drink-and the streets are being patrolled by a slow moving groundcar with a heavy stubber mounted on top and a few PDF members following closely behind it. North-west, standing slightly raised on a hill and overlooking the entertainment district with a distinct look of disapproval is the Cathedral of the local Imperial Cult, and behind the Cathedral is the PDF barracks and training grounds.

Rumours and Word About Town

The usual about the riches of the Koronus Expanse, and the dangers. Warnings about cursed worlds, xenos raiders, Rak'Gol coming to take children away in the middle of the night. Conspiracy theories and claims that some of the sector's Administrator's are behind some devious plot aside from their usual devious plot.

Some rumours hold a bit more substance. The Winterscale and Chorda Dynasties are again in open warfare in the further off systems where they are less likely to damage their own holdings. Either side is known to be currently hiring mercenaries and other workers to assist them. The gravities of Port Wander are entering one of their rare calm and stable periods. Stryxis 'caravans' have been spotted clashing with Eldar Corsairs near the Serpent's Cradle. A star galleon bearing treasures taken from the Egarian Dominion was stopped, boarded, and subsequently destroyed without warning by two cruisers bearing the heraldry of the Inquisition. The Adeptus Mechanicus stationed in Port Wander are reportedly looking for available captains to assist in some as of yet unknown work. Sarvus Trask, an up and coming Rogue Trader with great ambitions, is rumoured to have located a stash of ancient Imperial Atomics. Yet another gorily failed attempt at missionary work on Vaporius has led to the absolute condemnation of the planet's Priest-Kings by the Ecclesiarchy. Crusaders and Pilgrims-Militant are gathering in Port Wander to catch the next available voidship to Vaporius to begin a war against the planet's heretical rulers.

Local rumours are springing up left and right as well. The two noble houses of Allatos and Norhaus are said to be resolving their decades long conflict with a series of combats in the fighting rings beneath their houses and Belas Primas. Jens and Karloff and von Perell's own competition between the two has sprung into open warfare between their holdings in the Koronus Expanse. Francis Tybalt is looking to make another major expansion to his business, this time pushing further into the Koronus Expanse to trade with other frontier worlds. The rumours of surviving pirates in the outsystem asteroid field have been mixed in with rumours of a growing smuggling ring hiding in the same field. Hans Serghar is slowly but steadily loosing his tight grip on the loyalties of the planet's noble houses, and worries that he may be replaced by Tybalt or von Perell. Alex Bering, commander of the PDF, has secured munitions from Tybalt for the PDF.


OOC Stuff
Current PF: 25
Current Morale: 106
Current Population: 101

OOC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?p=14553823#post14553823)

[Donan]

She didn't much care for it, but she also had no desire to be pawed and stabbed at by a horde of frothing, zealous mon-keigh. Not right now, in any case. As a result, the Dark Eldar was clad in a concealing robe that hid her form, muted some of the inherent grace of her race and kept her armour and weapon from prying eyes.

She stood behind the Rogue Trader, content to be where she could hear and see most anything.

And for now, she held her silence, waiting to see just what direction they started in.

[Whiskeyjack]

"'s like kicking an ant-hill, isn't it?" Ynys sighs, stepping off the lander. The helmsman has traded out an Imperial Navy uniform for something more nondescript: very plain clothes in khaki and gray, mostly covers over his flak armor, but the tunic bears the seal of the Yronwood Dynasty over its heart.

"Our arrival, I mean. Not that Warrants are common, but we are in a civilized sector, or what passes for one, eh? Is it always this much of a fuss? Though I guess only the mad or the, erm, desperate try to jump straight through the Maw from here, eh? I mean, don’t get me wrong, I’ve seen worse specks of dirt,” Ynys comments as he toes the ground. “So what’s the order of business, chief, er, my lord?” He smiles and adjusts the pistols in his belt, (at least) one for every situation. “How long do you suppose we'll be sticking around before we take Big V out into the wild again?” The helmsman has traded out an Imperial Navy uniform for something more nondescript: very plain clothes in khaki and gray, mostly covers over his flak armor, but the tunic bears the seal of the Yronwood Dynasty over its heart.

[Naquadah]

“Easy, little brother, and I’ll remind you not to refer to Vercingetorix in such a base manner. She’s killed helmsmen with worse senses of humor for less and I prefer your services alive.” Lord-Captain Laertes Shyeel-Yronwood stands in his usual splendor, his clothes tight against a whip-thin frame: black and navy tinged with gold and stylized screaming white human skulls at shoulders and belt, an altogether sinister look. Then mantle across his chest is a burst of gold and ivory, the hilt of sword and grip of pistol at his hips inlaid with ancient iconography. Unlike his dark-haired brother, Laertes’ hair is a pale yellow-white, thick, and frames an almost too-thin face.

“Big systems have big rumors and big competition. Rubycon is a cesspool and I’d rather not take a job and have to shoot my way out of the system then and there. By contrast, the jobs here might pay less, but we won’t have to go toe-to-toe with richer interests to complete them. Remember my brother, there are no small number of merchants and militants in Calixis who profited when the Meritech butchered the Yronwood sow, no small number of weasels who feasted on her cooling fat, and no small number of wolves hunting the lean boar we’ve become,” Laertes says as he surveys the city and waits for ground transportation.

“Senior staff can have the day to dig up whatever they care to, with the exception of Bosun Jakkal of course. Or the senior staff can stay with me, for the narcissists who like to watch the watchmen from inside the cage with me. Do recall our dinner appointments tonight, tomorrow, and in four days’ time, with other, smaller interests staging haphazard events to engage me over tea and little cakes as they have the opportunity,” he smirks. “You may exercise your own discretion, or if you feel you have no discretion to exercise, you can wait aboard the ship. I at least have to make the rounds, and I’m certain Mistress Kell would like to accompany me to the Cathedral, of course? The Tybalt facility is of importance to me, and local cuisine of course. Roland, if this planet has the facilities for it, I’d like to secure a contract with a mine manufacturer with a good, insular, tight-lipped supply chain, not like those gossipy fools on Bosk. And, all things considered, I’d prefer to bypass Rubycon on the way in this time, so make sure we leave this system with everything we need for a stretch in Koronus, unless the Mechanicus have a deal to make and care to tap the ancient agreements between Mars and St. Yves,” he adds to Roland and the small cluster of factors brought down from the shuttle. “Have the Choir send word ahead to my permanent factor on Port Wander for any time-sensitive information our red-robed friends may wish to pass on to us. Open warfare between the Great Houses is open season for us to snap at their bleeding wounds,” he adds, smiling.

“Though that asteroid field...have the augurs keep an eye out for emissions from out there. Completing an in-system anti-piracy job could have considerable negotiation potential in the days ahead. If we’re lucky, it might even net us a new hull for the armada. On that note: ladies, gentlemen, let us be about it.”

[Donan]

Ari touched a gloved hand to her neck, triggering a micro bead connection to the Captain.

"You speak well of feasting from the war of others. And you speak of acting against the pirates.

But trade here is of value, and again, war can be used for our benefit. Control of the pirates will give us control to have our allies untouched, and our enemies weakened. They will give resources to crush the pirates, and expose their throats to us."

[MHerbert]

Lucius yawned loudly as he waddled off the exit ramp of the lander, drinking deeply from a Hip-Flask of recaf. While many of his kind would not willingly step foot on a planet's surface, he had only a limited aversion.

Clad in the traditional Nobilite robes of his House, the only visible part of Lucius' form was the lower half of his face, all the rest was covered by overlarge and baggy stretches of fabric. Concealed beneath this clothing was Lucius's Xeno Mesh and Navis Nobilite Conversion Field Medallion, both more than enough protection for a routine outing. He had disconnected his Hellpistol from its backpack power source, and carried it at his hip. While this radically decreased its cell capacity he found it more than sufficient when not expecting danger, especially given the 2 backup cells he had stored in his robes inner pouches. Also it was a work of beauty, and sure to impress.

Bleary eyed and not fully awake he was glad of the assistance of his familiar Arcturus perched upon the top of his Navigator's staff, for his familiar was alert and awake, sending limited sensory information across their psyber lure.
Lucius stretched unnaturally, limbs, fingers and his neck moving at angles most humans would be unable to achieve. Despite his stupor, he was more than attent enough to hear some of the more important bits of what was going on around him.
"Local Cuisine you say? Well, then I suppose then you have the wonderful pleasure of my company in your entourage Lord-Captain. I have little patience for the planet-bound, but thankfully I can entrust all of that boring talking and word-play to your esteemed self, and enjoy the wonderful pleasures that a noble can offer, eh? I assume we will have time to collect some of the local Amasec vintage, my collection is somewhat diminished of late."

[Ipphli]

Roland stood quietly near the Captain, constantly scanning the bustling crowd. His plain, grey robes conceal the form-fitting suits he wears underneath. As he moves, the cloak he wears shifts occasionally, revealing glimpses of a large-caliber weapon strapped to his back. He nods once as the captain gives his instructions.

"Captain, Tybalt has many armaments available; I am sure mines are included. Perhaps such a deal could be discussed at the party tomorrow, when he's slightly inebriated perhaps? Or I could discuss the matter through more conventional routes, which may draw less notice but cost slightly more. The choice is yours.

While you decide, I will contact the Mechanicus here and see if they might be in the mood to trade."

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal is standing closely behind his Lord-Captain, standing loyal watch over his 'charge'. Deciding not to draw too much attention, he is wearing his carapace armour instead of his power armour, and has only brought his hellgun, mono-sword, and a pair of smoke grenades onto the ground with him. He has his grapplehawk perched on his shoulder, and his MIU is synced with the beloved bird's visual inputs, allowing him to see twice as much as he normally would.

"Aw, Captain," he says in his informal but alarmingly friendly way, "You don't trust me to stay out of trouble? I promise it won't end up like last time!"

[devinebovine]

A towering Ork, clad in a ragged squig-hide vest and matching pants, trundles up to the Lord Captain. His lower jaw has an iron sheet bolted over it, with metal fangs exaggerating his overbite. He carries an over-sized monkey wrench slug over his back, and a tangled mess of metal tubes and bolts that resembles a pistol hangs from his hip. His right arm ends right below his shoulder, out of which extends a crude, blue contraption that vaguely resembles an arm. The cogs whir and spin as the springs move the iron braces which compose his "mekanikul" arm. He scratches his stumpy nose with a hand made of wrenches. Gutnob Snotzogga speaks in a deep, rumbly voice.

"Oi, Kaptin, iz uze wantin' sumwon wot kan pro-tekt uze'z phyzikal ok-ness? Oi know 'ow ta sneakz up on da 'umies!"

A tiny Grot nervously peeks out from behind Gutnob's leg.

Translation
Greetings, Lord Captain Shyeel-Yronwood, I hope this day finds you well. I fear for your personal safety, and wish to accompany you that I might provide what aid I can. I have survived in the company of humans before, and while I remained undiscovered mainly due to luck, I like to fancy that it was due to stealthy abilities I do not possess.

[BedrockHound]

Alysa steps off of the craft in a perhaps overly regal manner. She's wearing a flowing white and silver dress today, an elegant, lace-covered gown that stretches from her feet all the way to halfway up her neck, covering the skin-tight armoured bodyglove she has on beneath it completely. Motts is held comfortably in her arms, the bi-cranial crocodilian napping contentedly, and her servo-skull follows faithfully behind her, keeping the hems of her dress off of the ground.

"Bosun Jakkal, the Lord-Captain's orders are made on his best judgement. Perhaps you should pay them some heed?" she offers meekly, looking around the spaceport with a look between fear and offended surprise.

[positivespace]

You wouldn't expect it on such a low-tech world, but there are a pair of groundcar taxis parked on the cobbled street that runs past the spaceport. A phaeton and a dusenberg by the looks of it, both old but reliable STCs for groundcars. The two are painted a simple grey color with brassy trim, and the phaeton sports what looks like heraldry for some noble house. Both are kept clean, and it is no surprise, for even groundcars must seem an exotic rarity to the people of this planet.

The PDF patrol passes out of view, apparently not having seen the ork from down the street or not caring. The lower officers who had taken the shuttle down with you nod and take their leave at the captain's orders, splitting off into smaller groups and walking down the various roads, already loosening up a bit now that they have fresh air and pay in their pockets. Most seem to be heading towards the amasec-tainted air of the entertainment district.

[devinebovine]

Gutnob puts on his dented (but shiny!) cooking pot helmet, tilting it rakishly to the side. He dons the large, burlap robe he keeps for such occasions: a patchwork affair sewn from several different colored fabrics, but all well in the family of "brown". It is loose-fitting, and covers his entire body. On the front is a patch made of yellow fabric that, from a distance and through the fog, could resemble an Imperial Aquila.

"Don't worry, Boss, uze gunna be safe wiv ole' Nobs!" The Ork attempts a conspiratorial wink. "'Ey Uze, git in 'ere!" Gutnob says as he grabs the wretched Grot and shoves it into one of the voluminous pockets in the robe.

[Naquadah]

"Master Zotnogga, certainly you may accompany me as a properly Sanctioned xenos. Or you could feel free to wander about on your whims, so long as you know my protective patronage extends only near my person. Should any ill befall a xeno outside of my immediate sphere of influence," he shrugs. "That xeno has none to blame but himself. But I appreciate the offer to guard my person, and accept - hence, why I requested the presence of the Bosun. Bosun, your presence is unnecessary should you desire to pursue higher callings than warding a Warrantholder," Laertes says offhandedly. "Lord Praxis, your company is always quite...welcome." He turns to Roland. "A good point, my seneschal. Ply the representatives with all manner of delicacies and inebriants tomorrow, the better to ensure quality product for lowest price."

Laertes eyes the groundcars. "Let's move along, have a bit of breakfast, say our daily devotions to Him-On-Terra and see what opportunities await us." He sweeps towards the cars, expecting his retinue to follow. "Anyone who wishes to come with me is welcome to. All the rest are dismissed until our dinner. But keep your vox beads on," he warns.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Don't make it sound like I'm shirking my duties, milord," Jakkal grins and follows Laertes closely.

"Didn't mean to make that big a mess last time anyways. Not my fault he couldn't stay in one piece."

Jakkal looks over the groundcars briefly, eyeing up the drivers to see which one looks the most reputable, or at least the easiest to intimidate into behaving.

"What's the plan for today, then? After breakfast and our due, of course. We'll still have good time before we 'have' to visit the governor."

[MHerbert]

Still too bleary to notice the pause in Laertes sentence, Lucius smiled contentedly, and fell in behind the Lord-Captain.
"Hmmm, which of these Groundcars is the largest? I hate having to squeeze myself into vehicles."
Shaking his staff to dislodge his hawk familiar, Arcturus took to the sky to fly above the group. "Follow, by, air. Understand?"
Screech
"Good. Your double headed screeching would be irritating at short distances."

[positivespace]

The phaeton is the larger of the two and has an open-air cabin with three rows of expensive looking leather seats and wood paneling. The driver is a an aged man dressed in a clean and wrinkle free black vest over a white undershirt and pressed black trousers.

The driver of the dusenberg is younger looking, and dressed in a brown tunic that sports a few small stains over otherwise clean clothes that look like they might be expensive on this planet, but would be laughed at in rich company anywhere else. The dusenberg itself is built like a brick, with two rows of seats behind the driver's and a thick roof.

[Vizzi]

Zor did not care to join the Rogue Trader and his entourage at this stage, he felt he had some things remaining to do before leaving the ship. He still worked to repair and grow accustomed to the various quirks and ticks of both the ships various Machine Spirits and physical components, here and there slight faults where repaired and lesser Adepts punished for various reasons, but in much fewer numbers than in the beginning.

Although since most of the time spent in the journey was used to learn of his new home he felt secure enough to work in a supervisory manner, deep within the bowels of the Ancient Warcruiser Drive connected to the most advanced and immense of the ships Machine Spirits, a privileged position only available to himself due to the permission from the ships Captain, an untold number of access codes and uniqueness of his own mind. He tought he could see and feel each and every single bolt across the ship, the sensor longs from the surroundings and even the slightly heretical viewing of a Sister of Battle and an Dark Eldar Wyche doing unspeakable things by a lowly Adept deep within the Librarium.

But he quickly wrenched his sight from such things focusing upon their current location, he scoured his memory for any information whilst at the same time contacting the local Adeptus Mechanicus for further information and updates.

Speak Language (Techna-lingua):
01000101 01111000 01110000 01101100 01101111 01110010 01100001 01110100 01101111 01110010 00100000 01011010 01101111 01110010 00101101 00110001 00110000 00110010 00110011 00110001 00110101 00110101 00101110 00100000 01001100 01101111 01100011 01100001 01101100 00100000 01000010 01100001 01110011 01101001 01100011 00100000 01000001 01110101 01110100 01101000 01100101 01101110 01110100 01101001 01100011 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01000011 01101111 01100100 01100101 00111010 00100000 01000001 00110100 00110111 00110110 00101101 01000001 00110011 01001111 01010000 01000011 00101101 00110001 00111000 01000110 00110010 00110011 00101101 01000110 01001010 01010011 01000001 01000100 01001000 00101101 00110010 00110001 01000100 01000100 00110110 00110100 00101101 01010000 00110111 00111001 01001011 00110011 01001101 00110000 01000011 01011001 00110101 00101110 00100000 01010011 01110100 01100001 01110100 01110101 01110011 00100000 01010101 01110000 01100100 01100001 01110100 01100101 00100000 01010010 01100101 01110001 01110101 01100101 01110011 01110100 01100101 01100100 00101110 00100000 01000110 01110101 01110010 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 00100000 01000011 01101111 01101101 01101101 01110101 01101110 01101001 01100011 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01001110 01100101 01100011 01100101 01110011 01110011 01100001 01110010 01111001 00101110


Translation:
"Explorator Zor-1023155. Local Basic Authentication Code: A476-A3OPC-18F23-FJSADH-21DD64-P79K3M0CY5. Status Update Requested. Further Communication Necessary."

Common Lore (Machine Cult) [roll0] vs 45
Common Lore (Imperial Navy) [roll1] vs 45
Forbidden Lore (Adeptus Mechanicus) [roll2] vs 45

[positivespace]

Zor

"01000011011011110110010001100101001000000111011001 10000101101100011010010110010000101110001000000101 01110110010101101100011000110110111101101101011001 01001000000111010001101111001000000100001001100101 01101100011000010111001100101100001000000100010101 11100001110000011011000110111101110010011000010111 01000110111101110010001011100010000001010111011010 00011000010111010000100000011001000110111100100000 01111001011011110111010100100000011011100110010101 1001010110010000111111," a mechanical voice blasts back over the vox.

Results of rolls:
The Adeptus Mechanicus here are only here because they are required on the docking stations. The magos of the station collective is Magos Oriator-b25997, and is as exasperated about his position as a tech-priest can manage. The navy presence here is small, and shrinking.

There was a pirate presence in the asteroid field in system until thirty seven years ago, when von Perell started her promethium operation and built the first fully operation docking station in system. She offered a free share of promethium to Battlefleet Calixis to establish a navy docking station in system and assist her own small fleet in taking out the pirates.

[Naquadah]

Laertes moves toward the open-topped vehicle. "The 'plan' is to hear what this system has to offer and what they will pay for us to do out in the Expanse. The system is small and relatively unrefined, but has its nobles and its plots and its rivalries. Hence, if you might have a sort of connections here - workers, the Navy, or anything else - I suggest you run it down and present me with your suggestions before we hit Footfall."

[devinebovine]

"An' see if doze Teckboyz gotz any ov doze fings wot iz dis big an' look like dis. Sumtimez deyz iz black. Oi ran out ov doze da utha day." Gutnob makes some indistinct gestures with his hands. He clambers into the open-topped car. "Dis trukk don't 'ave no leg space! Oi 'ope it goez fast enuf soz Oi don't make snorez."

Translation
Esteemed Tech-Priest, follower of the Omnissiah, while you are visiting your colleagues, please be on the lookout for certain mechanical pieces. Alas, I do not posses the vocabulary or capacities for description that would allow me to detail them to you, so I realize that this request is, in fact, impossible for you to fulfill. In other regards, this vehicle is clearly not made for beings of Ork size, as I find it quite difficult to sit comfortably within it. I do hope that it can achieve a high enough forward velocity to keep my primitive desire for speed sated. I may fall asleep otherwise.

Since he's in the open-topped car, Gutnob will keep his eyes peeled as they go through the city. He's particularly interested in the cars and machines they have in this low-tech world, but he also knows to keep his eye open for trouble. "Fings kan fall frum da sky," he mutters to himself, recalling an old Death Skulls myth involving "sky bulletz" that shot "big 'umies wiv lotsa dakka" on some ancient tribe. He rubs his lucky blue arm.

Rolling Awareness
[roll0] vs 26

[MHerbert]

Sitting directly next to Gutnob, Lucius greatly regretted choosing to sit in the larger of the two vehicles, for with both of their exceptional mass, it was probably more of a squeeze than it would have been to sit in the closed one.
Staring to the side of the groundcar in boredom, Lucius scanned the buildings in the vain hope of something, anything to distract him from this monotony.
Concentrating thoroughly, and stretching out his mind to his Familiar, flying above, Lucius felt the emotions of his familiar, most importantly the exhilaration of flying alone by oneself in the sky, one he dearly desired the opportunity to take again. Pulling back from the connection, Lucius lit a Lho stick, and with his hand resting on the outside of the groundcar, began to stare out at the area they were passing through.

Awareness rolls for Lucius and Arcturus

Lucius
[roll0] vs 44
Arcturus
[roll1] vs 65

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal holds open the doors to the Phaeton (nice car choice, by the way, if it looks anything like the classics) for any comrades that want to join the good Lord-Captain today. He'll then take a seat behind the driver, keeping a careful eye on him in case of any shenanigans. He keeps his visor down the whole time, knowing a blank black screen is probably scarier than his face.

[Whiskeyjack]

"Shotgun," Ynys calls, heading for the Dusenburg. "I'll join you for lunch and then try to run down some friends of friends of friends, see what they have to say about that thing between von Perell and J&K and the Tybalt stuff as it brews out out in the Expanse. Hey, can someone get me some info on the naval picket though?"

Ynys slides easily into the seat next to the driver, despite any protocol to the contrary, and loosens his blt so his pistols are easily-accessible. He shouts back out the still-open door, "Come on, pile in, there's plenty of room, let's get this show on the road people!"

Once people are settled, he says to the driver, "Follow the Phaeton, my good man."

[BedrockHound]

Alysa nods in thanks to Jakkal and takes her seat in the Phaeton, Motts still snuggled comfortably in her arms.

"I think I would like to visit the Cathedral, if we have the time, Lord-Captain," she says in her quiet tones. She's not very comfortable on the ground, and a good bout of praying will probably help to ease her nerves.

[Ipphli]

Roland bows to the Captain, but refrains from following. "Excuse me Captain. I will see you at the dinner tonight. Until then, I have some inquiries to make." With that, the seneschal moves off towards the merchant district, a couple of plainly dressed, if large, crewmen following after him.


Inquiry to ask around, discover a reputable, if tight-lipped, apothecary. TN is 43 base.
[roll0]

[Naquadah]

Laertes looks out the back seeing other crew members, including his brother, load into the covered car. Once everyone is loaded in, he addresses the driver: "Driver, we'll stop at one of your finest local restaurants to break our fast, then we will attend devotionals at the Cathedral. Let's proceed."

[positivespace]

The two drivers, normally business competition for one another, give each other a look conveying their fear of the Rogue Trader and his retinue.

"Roger, milord," says the driver of the phaeton, "The Emperor's Stead it is." He takes off down the road leading to the entertainment district, the dusenberg and its nervous driver following close behind.

[devinebovine]

"'Is name ain't Roga, itz Lairteez, ya git! But itz Lord Kaptin ta uze!" In frustration, Gutnob punches the Grot-sized lump in his robe's pocket. A pitiful squeak comes out of it.

[Donan]

There's an annoyed snort from within Ari's robes. "Remember to heed, hm? I can seek out contacts of use here, Captain. And it is far preferable to having your tatty priests competiting over who can set me on fire first."

[Naquadah]

"Do as you will," Laertes says to the Dark Eldar, obviously bored with discussing who will and won't come.

The groundcars rumble forward into town, and immediately Laertes is watching and taking in the local sights and smells. After several stops to sample local food and drink, Laertes directs the driver to the most famous and high-end restaurant in this community for a massive breakfast. Anyone casting eyes askance at the xenos are promptly stared down or discouraged from voicing their opinions by virtue of the heavily-armed entourage and the unremarkable standard-bearer carrying the ornate banner of an ancient Rogue Trader dynasty, adorned with purity seals and small campaign pennants from no less than three Segmentum.

After the exquisite breakfast, Laertes directs the motorcade, such as it is, up towards the cathedral. Once they pull up alongside, he steps out and addresses the crew. "As both of my valued Astropaths present wished to visit the Cathedral, so are we here, to pray to the God-Emperor. And perhaps the church has some assistance it needs, say, with Vaporius?" And, in a lower tone: "Perhaps we can undercut those fools arguing about it on Port Wander by dealing directly here."

[MHerbert]

"Oh indeed, I would believe there are more than a few Crusaders and Zealots who would want transportation to Vaporius at the call of a crusade, both in Port Wander, and other places outside of the Expanse. And we are always to eager to provide transportation, and perchance even assistance to those willing to embark on such a noble endeavour."
Turning away from the Rogue Trader for a minute Lucius wondered thoughtfully

"Hmmm, Vaporius though, Vaporius. What did I hear about Vaporius, must have been something more than these portside rumours"
Common Lore: Koronous Expanse in relation to Vaporius
[roll0] against 46

[Vizzi]

Speak Language (Techna-lingua):
01000011 01110101 01110010 01110010 01100101 01101110 01110100 01101100 01111001 00100000 01101111 01110000 01100101 01110010 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01110101 01101110 01100100 01100101 01110010 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01110000 01110101 01110010 01110110 01101001 01100101 01110111 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01100001 00100000 01010010 01101111 01100111 01110101 01100101 00100000 01010100 01110010 01100001 01100100 01100101 01110010 00101110 00100000 01001001 01101110 01100110 01101111 01110010 01101101 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01101111 01101110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101100 01101111 01100011 01100001 01101100 00100000 01110011 01101001 01110100 01110101 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01101110 01100101 01100101 01100100 01110011 00100000 01101111 01100110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 00100000 01001101 01100101 01100011 01101000 01100001 01101110 01101001 01100011 01110101 01110011 00101100 00100000 01101001 01100110 00100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 01110010 01100101 00100000 01100001 01101110 01111001 00100000 01101001 01110011 00100000 01110010 01100101 01110001 01110101 01100101 01110011 01110100 01100101 01100100 00101110 00100000 01010000 01100101 01110010 01110011 01101111 01101110 01100001 01101100 00100000 01101101 01100101 01100101 01110100 01101001 01101110 01100111 00100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 00100000 01101001 01101110 01100110 01101111 01110010 01101101 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 00100000 01100101 01111000 01100011 01101000 01100001 01101110 01100111 01100101 00111111

[Whiskeyjack]

At the cathedral, Ynys holds up his hand. "Look, this is fine and all, but I think I'll double back and hit some of the bars and flight-jockey hangouts. I, uh, got confessed by the ship's main priest this morning anyway," he adds. "Mind if I borrow a couple arms men, just in case? As if this," Ynys points at the crest on his chest, "doesn't give away who I am already, I'd appreciate a little extra muscle at my back, you know?"

[positivespace]

The Lord-Captain and his Retinue

The drivers nod nervously and take you where you ask, making no small talk and obviously well learned by the nobles of this planet not to interact too much with those of higher status. The Emporer's Stead is a small restaurant, but is as finely decorated as you could expect on a planet like this, made from brick and rich pines of some sort, with brass and stained glass decorations. The breakfast is quickly laid out by the surprised servers, a veritable feast of delicious meats and vegetables one could not easily find on any other planet that wasn't an agri-world or similarly well-stocked.

The Cathedral is ominous. Made from better materials-obviously imported from offworld- and standing taller than any other building in town, with bright red, midnight black, and solar gold tapestries flowing in the wind. Inside, a number of monks in dark colored habits hurry about, their heads ducked, while towards the podium that sits on the stage in front of the massive stained glass windows at the back of the cathedral, there is a well-built man in white and gold robes with a large chainsword propped against his side giving blessings to a small grouping of peasants, who you expect paid all the thrones to their names to get into the city.

MHerbert
Unfortunately, you can't recall anything other than the usual rumours of a windswept planet with a heretical cult leading its cities made of glass and bronze.

Zor

01010101011011100110010001100101011100100111001101 11010001101111011011110110010000101110001000000100 00010010000001101101011001010110010101110100011010 01011011100110011100100000011101110110111101110101 01101100011001000010000001100010011001010010000001 10000101110000011100000111001001101111011100000111 00100110100101100001011101000110010100101110001000 00010101110110100101101100011011000010000001101101 01100101011001010111010000100000011110010110111101 11010100100000011000010111010000100000011101000110 10000110010100100000011001000110111101100011011010 11011010010110111001100111001000000111001101110100 01100001011101000110100101101111011011100010011101 11001100100000011001000110000101110100011000010010 11010110001001100001011011100110101101110011001000 00011101110110100101110100011010000010000001101000 0110000101110011011101000110010100101110

((Sorry about that. Net was down.))

[Naquadah]

The Lord-Captain enters with but a small burst of fanfare and a large entourage: the standard-bearer walking slightly behind and hefting the House Banner above the Lord-Captain's head. The attending human crew follows, and the group is brought up by a double-line of armsmen surrounding the ork - both for his protection and others.

"Hail Laertes Shyeel-Yronwood, Bearer of the Yronwood Warrant, Lord-Captain of the cruiser Vercingetorix, Castellan of St. Yves and Suzerain of Hellholt, a Loyal Scourge and a Founding Father of Calyx! All Hail!" the standard-bearer shouts in a clear voice, banging the standard staff against the ground before entering into a litany of titles and presentations of the other senior crew staff, including the ork Zotnogga.

Silence reigns as the presentiment is completed, and Laertes drops to one knee in the presence of the Cathedral's priest. As one, his armsmen follow suit, and while the senior staff are expected to do so as well, he does not require it - this time. When Laertes speaks, it is in the soft voice of a penitent, though there is an edge to its delicate entreaty, "Father, we are but simple petitioners traveling the stars, doing the Emperor's service. Please do my crew and myself the honor of bestowing upon us the benediction of Him-on-Terra and leading us in prayer."

[MHerbert]

Following suit, Lucius bends his knee to the Chapel's depiction of the Emperor, however while his head and hood are lowered, he opens his Third eye (behind his headscarf) to peer briefly into the Aether to discern the true direction of Terra. As he gave his prayers Lucius stared through his mind's eye into the warp and bathed in the glory of the Astronomicon, perceiving it as his mind does as a great and glorious sun, shining down upon a snow covered, and wind lashed tundra.

He smiled at the irony that despite all the pompous preening and great salutation, only he, a debased mutant, beyond the Emperor's grace, was able to truly see the direction of Terra at any given time.

After his prayers were done, Lucius made not attempt to interact with others, for while the names of both a Rogue Trader and Nobilite house would grant him protection, he found that there still remained on occasion a hostile attitude. They were also mostly rather boring conversation.

[TechnoScrabble]

At breakfast, Jakkal eats ravenously, making no small mess on his chin (which he thankfully wipes up with a handcloth) and consuming much more than someone his size probably should. After a lifetime in prison for no crime other than having been born, he's more than willing to enjoy the finer bits of life.

At the cathedral, he removes his helmet and pulls his aquila pendant out for all to see. He's quiet in here, calm. It's really not like him at all.

[devinebovine]

Gutnob pulls 'Ey Uze out of his pocket, throws it on the ground and points to a stained glass window of the Emperor. "Git on da ground! Dat's the 'umie's Boss, 'an 'e waz bigga dan any Ork!" In whispered awe he says, "Jus' look at da size ov 'im!" Gutnob makes a smart salute with his lucky arm and puffs out his already massively-protruding lower jaw.

His beady red eyes quickly notice the impressive chainsword the churchy-boy is carrying.

[BedrockHound]

Alysa eats very little at breakfast. She doesn't need much food, given her size.

At the cathedral, she follows quietly behind Laertes, and is bent over slightly, more nervous and meek than usual in this place because of her state as a psyker, a mutant.

[Vizzi]

"01010101 01101110 01100100 01100101 01110010 01110011 01110100 01101111 01101111 01100100 00101110" he quickly responds before starting the process of disengaging himself from the ships core, ever conscious he quickly sends a message towards Laertes "Leaving the ship briefly, status secure?" after all not being available to rescue the Rogue Trader in whatever situation develops is not what one would call efficient.

As he finishes his separation from the ship he already misses the constant presence of the Machine Spirits, the vast power under his control, but he knows that there are simpler ways to embrace the ideal of the Adeptus Mechanicus, he moves with purpose towards the meeting place his constant companions never far behind.

[positivespace]

Laertes

The peasants hurry their prayers and make their way quickly out of your path. Such low folk as them have never heard of Rogue Traders, but they know to stay out of the view of their betters. One of them, a small boy who couldn't be much older than six or seven, with ruddy skin, untrimmed brown hair, and the plump cheeks of someone who hasn't lost all of their 'baby fat' looks up at the crew with the shimmer of awe in his eyes before being quietly admonished by his parents.

The minister looks up at Captain Laertes with a sort of knowing smile that fits his weather-beaten face well. Canyons of wrinkles and mountains of small scars write a long, weary tale across his face. He lifts his eviscerator by one hand-no easy feat-and makes his way to you.

"Ah, the visiting Lord-Captain, I presume? I was told to expect your Lordship's presence by the commander of the docking station. Even the greatest explorers must stop to pray before such an undertaking as the Koronus Expanse," he says in a booming but friendly tone, "I expect the Xenos you have brought with you is sanctioned, and learned in the ways of our Saviour-On-The-Throne?"

He casts a chastising look towards Gutnob and 'Ey 'Uze while the shaking grot throws itself down at the feet of the Emperor's iconography.

((In case anyone missed it, the Xenos characters started out sanctioned if they wanted to, because of ChaoticSky's logic towards Sanctioning))

Zor

You are transmitted maps of the docking station to aid you in getting to the data-vaults quickly. While much of the docking station is filled with the usual debris and filth of a space station, down here, where the Mechanicus rules, the only obstruction is the great towers of parchments and data-slates and the blessed power cables and the Mars-Red tapestries that hang from them.

A small group of servitors and tech-priests are here waiting for you, one of them clearly the leader, if judging by their robes and the number of wires and mechadendrites and tools sprouting from their body are any way to tell. Which they are, of course.

The group turns to look at you, and the leader, imposing in all his gleaming and oily machine glory, makes a slight, welcoming gesture with one of his many arms.

"Welcome, Explorator. We are pleased to have one with your experience here to visit us. You wish to speak of what we require, and of local occurrences. Come. We will show you our truths.

Ynys

Being the only space-port on the planet, Belas Primus features many drinking establishments, ranging from a navy-catering tavern called the 'Aquila' to a literal hole in the ground with a tarp for a roof and a storage room full of kegs buried in the floor aptly named 'The Pit'.

Ynys finds that not only are the rumours of smugglers true, but that some of them are remainders of the pirates from decades ago, bitter over their defeat. Nobody knows their exact location, but they seem to have stealth shuttles that fly throughout the system, docking at guilder voidcraft and making deals in secret. He finds out that Hans Serghar is losing his hold over several of the nobles, and that von Perell might be engaging in some blackmail and smuggling, and that several nobles have tried to assassinate each other recently, no surprise given that barely-contained political turmoil is clearly raging beneath the surface.

But the most interesting thing Ynys learns is of the fighting pits. Some beneath the nobles' palaces, some beneath the city itself, where duels are fought in secret to entertain the lucky viewers and to solve disputes. Warriors, slaves, and nobles' champions fight here, whether against each other or beasts smuggled in from other worlds, and a lot of money could be made betting or fighting or otherwise finding funds there.

[Naquadah]

"Yes, my ork is quite fearful of the Emperor and pays him all proper obeisance. It has even begin instructing its spawn in the ways of Him-on-Terra, and they venerate Him with a holy terror that is quite enviable." Laertes rises from his genuflection.

"However, my purpose here is manyfold. First, the obvious blessing before we venture out into the Expanse." He pauses. "The second is to learn how we might help the Faith out in the Expanse. Enemies to be slain, faithful to be transported, worlds to be claimed for the Ministorum, et cetera. I've heard of that dreadful business on Vaporius...perhaps the heretics will acquiesce to proper learnings at lance-point?" He smiles and steps towards the priest. "And I would greatly like to know of this planet and system from a man who serves Him upon it."

[devinebovine]

Gutnob keeps his overly-dramatic salute.

"Da Emprah iz da Boss ov all da 'umies, an' da Kaptin iz da Boss ov me. Soz Oi fink dat meanz da Emprah iz dah biggist Boss ov all. Oi knowz dat 'E don't loike me, even 'dough Oi've neva met 'Im. But dey tell me dat 'E's alwayz watchin. I fink dat meanz if 'E getz mad 'E can make my 'ead go boom."

Translation
The Holy Emperor enthroned on Terra, Blessed be His name, rules over all with power and majesty. I am sworn to Lord-Captain Laertes, and as he gives fealty to the Golden Throne, so too do I bend the knee. I am all-too aware of my inferiority as a non-human, that to my great shame I may never fully bask in the glory of His justice and might. Indeed I am to be scorned, and only owe my continued existence to a perceived notion of utility. Every day I wake with fear in my cowardly xeno heart that I will face final judgement at the hand of one of His servants, for I surely deserve it. Yet in a dark sense I almost welcome it, as the fatal purging of my wickedness would allow His Light to shine even a little brighter in this galaxy that is rightfully his.

[Vizzi]

As he moves across the depths of the docking he feels almost comfortable, the feeling itself fills him with dark amusement considering his history. As he aproached the location of the meeting his eyes searched so very briefly the gathered servitors and tech-priests finding the highest ranking was as always easily done.

Zor listened but did not speak for it would be wasteful he simply followed, but he was no fool his other eyes searched and his other hands gripped its weapons easily. For he was never alone.



Servo-skull D-3120/A3:
Awareness [roll0] vs 45

Whats that? It explodes right after meeting the highest ranking Mechanicus on-board? :smallannoyed: Tough luck. :smallamused:

[MHerbert]

Finishing his prayers, Lucius stands and walks over to behind Laertes.
Standing silently, Lucius attempting to look at tall and regal as he can, as to rival the prestigious air and presence Laertes manages to achieve.
Needless to say his engorged form and concealing attire make this a near impossible task.

Listening intently to the priest, Lucius hopes that the conversation will soon turn to any information of crusades, or rather of travel to the Heathen stars, Foundling World or via Winterscale's Realm. Primarily for his family saw fit to give him no currently maps of warp routes to these areas, except for those through Winterscale's realm, but the infamous reputation of the area means like any decent Navigator, he would not trust the warp maps until he had tested them himself.

At the thought of discovering and mapping a stable Warp Route to these areas, Lucius grins, momentarily ecstatic. That is until Gutnob's voice rings out once again and he winces at his tone, as it bringing him crashing back to harsh, irritating and obnoxiously loud reality.

[Ipphli]

Roland growled in frustration; it seemed no one on this backwards planet knew anything of medicines or pharmaceuticals. At least, no willing to talk to an outsider. Taking a deep, calming breath, the seneschal decided to try more...illegitimate sources. The risk went up, but at least he was more likely to find what he wanted.

After spending about ten minutes pondering the situation, Roland goes into one of the seediest bars he could find. Once there, he began making subtle inquiries into finding someone who dealt with drugs and medicines.


Common Lore (Underworld) to try and gains bonus on the inquiry roll. Foresight adds +10, so base is 60. [roll0]

Inquiry Base Number is 53 thanks to Peer (Underworld)
[roll1]

[positivespace]

Laertes

"Ah. It is a good sign for the Imperium of Man when even a lowly xenos can be instructed in our ways. Let us have our prayers, and then we may discuss the work the Emperor needs done, hmm?"

The minister will lead the party in a long prayer and recite the litanies of safe passage that are given to those traveling into the expanse. Several monks join in the low, monotonus chanting, and others bring long strips of parchment and seal them with wax before giving the rolled up blessings to the crewmen Laertes brought with him.

Once the praying is down, the Minister leads Laertes and his retinue to a rear corner of the stage.

"The Expanse holds many enemies to mankind, Captain, but all eyes are turned now to Vaporius, with its glass cities and heretic kings. You have heard of this planet before, I would assume? A wind swept desert world with a few rare oasises surrounded by buildings of glass and brass and gold, ruled over by heretics who have some sort of grip on the populus's minds? These stories are true. There is much of worth to be find on Vaporius, but before we can tame the planet, we must tame its people. All the ministorum priests sent there have been messily slain, and now Vaporius must pay for its crimes.

Warriors and priests are gathering at stations near and within the Expanse. Footfall, Port Wander, the Hermitage...hundreds, thousands of the Emperor's faithful. They mean to bring war to Vaporius, Captain. They just need a way to get there."

Lucius

Arcturus sends a few stray thoughts your way. A large gathering of men, mean looking. Some of them armed, it looks like. They smell terrible. No food. Not worth it. Moving down street towards gathering of the ship's crewmen. Crewmen not aware. Crewmen have food. Food smells nice.

Zor

There is nothing hiding among the parchments and wires and stacks of slates other than scribe-skulls and tireless servitors endlessly relocating things. The atmosphere darkens in the corners of the pleasantly sharp and angular rooms and halls, where the filters have not removed all the smoke that flows in from the vents connected to the enginarium and shield-chambers.

The tech-priests lead you to a massive bank of ports and cables and small, low-definition screens, where servitors and tech-priests of all types enter, plug themselves in momentarily, and leave quietly, knowing things they had not before and carrying important missives. The magos gestures to the databanks, a small puff of smoke escaping his respirator.

Roland

The Pit, a literal hole in the ground with a tarp for a roof and furnished trenches for seating areas. Some of the ship's crewmen are already here, drinking or eating in various pits and being readil avoided by most of the planetfolk. A few questions here and there net you information of an herb woman who lives near the edge of the district, holed up with a salesman of 'recreational pharmaceuticals'.

[MHerbert]

Lucius his head to the size and reaching to his ear activates his vox-bead to his currently missing compatriots Ynys and Roland. Speaking quietly as to not interrupt the Minister.

Vox Communication:
Right, I don't know which of you managed to mess up so early on the planet, but one of you currently has some slovenly planet-born scum following you and your armsmen entourage. What's more they have weapon, and we have a meeting with the the Ecclesiarchical Minister. So you'll have to deal with them yourself.

Lucius attempt to reason with Arcturus, promising more food if he stays nearby, to observe, but out of any potential danger.
A (+30) Easy, Fellowship check
[roll0] against 61
(71 if you accept the Into the Storm, "Good outcome" modifier)

Waiting for a response from one group or a more concrete layout from Arcturus, Lucius reconnects his Vox-bead to Ari'lia'Gysse's wavelength (if she isn't present in the church and within vox-bead distance).
Pardon the intrusion my dear, but one of our shipboard associates <whoever it is> appears to be having some trouble with the local peasantry, would you please see fit to assisting them in some small way? Not too much blood please, that might cause problems. I can try and give you an approximation of their whereabouts, or we could ask <whoever it is> himself, or I suppose... Zor... Could trace his vox-bead.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal kneels solemnly during the prayers, his hand clenched tightly around his aquila.

Noticing his mentor whispering something into his micro-bead, though, he is curious and steps quietly over to Lucius.

"Is something wrong, friend-teacher?" he asks, "I can send Steel if need be." Jakkal gestures to his grapplehawk.

[MHerbert]

Either our much esteemed Seneshal or the bumbling brother of our Captain seems to have had an unsavory encountered some armed locals. Or rather would have if I hadn't alerted them to their presence, Arcturus is currently watching them. It really mustn't have been a smart idea to bring all those Armsmen with them.
Sighing with irritation Lucius pinches the bridge of his nose, accidentally drawing blood.
It hasn't turned sour so far, but I can only tell so much through this Cyberlure. I can tell you the rough direction of where they are so you could... Hmm... Lucius pauses, smiling softly You could merely send Steel, or we could always rush to their aid ourselves, put a little fear of the Emperor into the scum of this planet. Surely our green compatriot would be more than enough protection to our Lord-Captain, especially surrounded by members of the Ecclesiarchy.

[TechnoScrabble]

A devious grin spreads across Jakkal's face.

"I'll send Steel to scout ahead, and follow after. Will you be joining me?"

With a short pulse from Jakkal's MIU, Steel is commanded to head on out of the cathedral and scan the city from above for the trouble.

[MHerbert]

But of course, I can't let you have all the fun. We should take one of the groundcars though, be they still outside, as I cannot run well.
Bah! In future through I will need an aid de camp to carry my Jump Pack, it would make transversing this city so much easier.

By the Emperor there must surely be some comely female member of the crew willing to forsake manual labour and the cramped life in a spaceship in order to aid me on a permanent basis. Why, to take her with me to all that we see would surely be a noble and kind gesture.

[Whiskeyjack]

"Checking something out, brother," Ynys privately voxes the Lord-Captain. "There might be a Beast House chapter on-planet. They pay top gelt for creepy-crawlies. Don't worry, I've got organgrinders in case things go pear-shaped."

He gets the other vox and opens the channel to the senior staff on-planet. "Whoa, Navigator, not me. This is my element at least as much as the Void is. No hostiles here - yet. Now about the big group of ratings just waving thrones around like they're His gift to this dirtball, they might need to watch out, I saw them a couple blocks back. I'll double around, we're haves in a big old lake of have-nots. Roland, any issue on your end? Your gear and finery does give you the look of a soft and flashy mark, no offense."

[devinebovine]

Gutnob trundles over to the bulbous three-eyed human. He's been told that Lucius is vital for steering the ship through the Warp, but Gutnob has his suspicions. How does he make the ship go so fast when he moves so slow? The Ork whispers in a scratchy growl.

"Threeziez, iz dere sumfing dat might turn inta a fight? Oi shud'unt leave da Kaptin, but it don't look like deze church boyz iz gunna be a problem. Dey only got one choppa! An' Oi don't fink da Kaptin wantz me ta kill dem anywayz." Gutnob looks slyly over to Jakkal. "But Oi don't want me gud buddy 'ere gettin' inta sumfing whot might give 'im a widdle scratch."

[MHerbert]

"Emperor; your ability to determine the cause for my alarm is truly astounding." Lucius ponders as he turns towards the Lord Captain and Minister, muttering "Or maybe that's because it's the only thing on your mind."
"We leave the Lord-Captain's body in your capable hands Mr. Gutnob, but his Seneshal. Damn, you might not know that word, his, his, teefcounter? Is about to get into a fight, and we're going to help him. I promise you can have the next one."
Lucius turns and quickly bows to the Lord-Captain and Minister.
"By your leave Minister; Lord-Captin, we're off to potentially help your Seneshal, as he seems to have gotten into a spot of bother with some Emperor forsaken wretches."
And with that, Lucius quickly "rushes" out of the Chapel to where he hopes Jakkal is waiting with the driver of the groundcar.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Don't you go thinking I can't handle myself, you green oaf," Jakkal chuckles and punches Gutnob's shoulder with some good force before running outside to tell the driver of the Dusenberg to start the groundcar up for a quick trip.

[Ipphli]

"Roland, any issue on your end? Your gear and finery does give you the look of a soft and flashy mark, no offense."

"I think you have me confused with someone else. All I'm wearing is plain robes with nothing pricey in sight. Give me done credit Ynys. As for trouble...I'm in the biggest dump this dump of a planet had to offer. Of course there's trouble nearby. If you wish to come and make more I won't stop you. I doubt we'll be here when you arrive though; I was just about yo leave,"

The seneschal glances around the bar, fingering the amulet around his neck that held his conversion field. Tapping the nearest armsman on the shoulder, he tilts his head slightly towards the exit. The armsman nods and heads that way, Roland stepping in line behind him as the other two move in behind to follow.

[Whiskeyjack]

"If it's not you then it's some greeny ratings we picked up the last couple systems. They have to figure out that if you flaunt it too much outside of Port Wander, it'll get you killed--and even there too. You do what you need to do Roland, I'll send you some figures on something to look into as well. I'm going to go save our hapless crew so I can box their ears myself. THen I'll be back to this lovely establishment for a pint."

Ynys tilts his head at his pair of armsmen, loosens his pistols in their holsters, and heads back outside toward the commotion.

[positivespace]

Arcturus lands on the roof of a nearby building, staring imposingly down the street at the promise of food. He is soon joined by Steel, the cybernetic bird's suspensor engine pushing it at high speeds over the event so that Jakkal can get a clear image of what's going on.

Milling outside the pit and the other bars nearby it are a number of crewmen-indeed, relatively inexperienced ones-who either haven't noticed or don't care about the sinister, disheveled mob staring hungrily at them from down the street.

The driver of the Dusenberg starts up the car without a word.

As Roland leaves The Pit, he may notice the mob causing all this worry down the road to his left.

[Ipphli]

Roland sighs as he spots the mob eyeing the crewmen. He walks up to them, glaring. "Are you purposely trying to cause trouble, of just stupid? You are visiting a world that is barely comparable to an underhive, flashing the kind of money these people only dream of. Have you noticed the large gang of people considering relieving you of your pay, and most likely your lives?"

The seneschal had been speaking softly, purely for the crewsmen's benefit. Now he turns and looks at the mob directly. "These men are members of the Rogue Trader Lord-Captain Yronwood's crew. An attack on them will be considered an attack on the ship. You cannot imagine the wrath you would call down on yourselves by doing that. Walk away, and it need never be thought of again."

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal directs Steel to land gently on Roland's shoulder and screech angrily and loudly at the mob while he directs the driver to the scene. Should be a good scare.

On the way there, he'll prepare his hellgun for it's likely use, lovingly working over his weapon's various parts and caressing with probably disconcerting care.

[MHerbert]

Lucius prepares his Hellpistol, and holds his staff close to his side.
He also is also about to remove his headscarf before stopping and thinking suddenly.
"I don't think that it would be best to use my Warp Gaze in such a place, these are lowly, feudal, planet-bound scum, but there are far too many of our own men here, as well as civilian witnesses."
He ponders.
"However if need be, do you know if our armsmen know Lord Laertes' combat code? I never did learn it myself or consider it that important. For if you could tell them to turn their gaze away from me, then it could save many of their lives."

[Naquadah]

"Please do forgive my staff," Laertes says, pinching the bridge of his nose as his best human agents leave him with an ork for a head bodyguard inside of an Imperial cathedral.

"Certainly I am interested in helping the Ministorum as I can with its conversions in the Expanse. Should you have a crusader legate we could contact at Footfall, the Yronwood Dynasty would graciously investigate the logistics of transporting frateris militia or the like to the jihad front."

Laertes appraises the priest a bit, looking about the temple. "What can you tell me about these heretics on Vaporius, their equipment, their disposition? Or is that information that must needs be gleaned on the other side of the Maw?"

[Vizzi]

Zor simply nods and approaches the databanks, his Servo-skull and Servitor moving to provide cover and monitoring without appearing to, his main MIU Mechadendrite slithering out from under his robes and armour pausing briefly, for him to bolster his mental defences, before plunging into the depths of the databanks.


Tech-use [roll0] vs 55 (45+10)

[BedrockHound]

"I think, Milord, maybe they had something important to do? The way they acted," Alysa nervously scratches the back of her head, "Perhaps it was something that needed done but you shouldn't trouble yourself with? At least Gutnob is behaving itself..."

She casts a worried look towards the ork and the armsmen who stayed behind.

[devinebovine]

Depressed to be left out of whatever excitement and loud noises are most likely occurring elsewhere, and completely bored with all the words people were using, Gutnob begins to dejectedly wander around the cathedral. In a dark alcove he comes across a cherubim, one of the small flying semi-organic servants the Ecclesiarchy uses for a myriad of small tasks. It is plugged into what appears to be a power shrine, and looks to be unaware of its surroundings. Gutnob is momentarily stunned as an idea forces its way into his brain. Whot if Oi can make my grot like dis flyin' baby? he thinks. He grabs the cherubim, pulls it out of its shrine, and quickly gets to work yanking off the wings and the wiring. Soon he attempts to "install" the pieces on an unwilling and struggling 'Ey Uze.

Tech-Use roll to take apart the cherubim, and I guess another to try to brutally apply it to my grot. I expect to fail spectacularly, which should have lethal ramifications for the grot. Both are vs. 45
[roll0] to take apart
[roll1] to "install"

[Naquadah]

Laertes continues to make small talk with the priest. Hopefully, nobody notices Gutnob desecrating Ecclesiarchal property over in some corner, but Laertes will handle it if they do.

Once the chat is complete, the Lord-Captain gives the signal to his armsmen to return to the vehicles so that they might continue their tour of the city, such as it is.

[positivespace]

Laertes

The minister stammers for a moment, obviously having bit off more than he could chew.
"Well, I am unlearned of Vaporius, I must admit...But Crusader-General Zerxes, he's at the Hermitage...he's a very knowledgeable man. I'm sure he could give you all the information you need?"

He is very polite when Laertes leaves, but seems somewhat relieved.

Meanwhile, an unsuspecting cherubim screeches and squeals in pain as its life and wings are wrenched from it's body. And after having metal and wires jammed forcefully into his spine, 'Ey Uze isn't looking very...alive, either.

A few monks near the alcove look nervously towards Gutnob, and while most of them hurry off, one approaches the ork.

"Just what do you think you are doing, filth?"

Roland, Jakkal, Ynys, Lucius

The crowd's momentum stops somewhat. It's clear to see now that a lot less of them are armed than previously thought.

"'S not like you can do nothin' to us and get away widdit!" one cretin shouts in an accusatory tone.

Meanwhile, Jakkal and Lucius's groundcar pulls up behind the mob, and Ynys steps out of a nearby establishment...

Zor

There's a brief moment of calm, wonderful, beautiful connection to the databanks, and then a wave of information presses against Zor's mind. The numerology and bookkeeping for the stations here, population and economic information on the planet below, the musings of dozens of low-rank tech-priests, the cargo and listed destination of the last three mechanicus ships to head for the Expanse from here, and some scraps of information Zor probably shouldn't have found pointing towards a lost planet, a wrecked craft, and a strange secret on Naduesh...

[devinebovine]

Gutnob glares at the monk idiotic enough to approach the xeno. "Oi'm jus' tryin ta make dis fing" and he holds up the bleeding grot, "fly like dis fing," and he points to the dismembered cherubim. "Nobody waz uzin' it, 'an Oi thought you 'umies cud make babies all da time." Gutnob sees Laertes leaving, and forgetting what he was doing shoves the limp, but winged, form of 'Ey Uze into the monk's surprised arms. "'Old on ta dis for me, Oi'z gotta go." The Ork makes to follow the Lord Captain.

[Ipphli]

Spotting his shipmates arrive, an evil smile spreads across Roland's face. "My captain is due to dine with your governor tonight. You truly believe you can attempt to attack our crew, and then claim we can do nothing to you? Before you think you can take our hard-earned Thrones, take a look around. My friends have arrived, for which I apologize; after all, the odds are now horribly skewed in our favor. So what will it be, peasants? A massacre, or slight misunderstanding?"

[MHerbert]

Standing behind Jakkal, Lucius makes a big deal out of double checking the safeties and systems of his Hellpistol. Smiling underneath his hood as he does so, he firmly grips his Navigator's Staff, mentally calling Arcturus to hand atop of it, while once again rewarding him via food picked from his hip pouch.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal steps out of the groundcar, his helmet on and his visor down, and raises one arm to call Steel to it while the other points his hellgun at the mob.

"Best listen to him, friends. I haven't had any good fun in a long while now."

He links his MIU to his hellgun and starts picking out targets from the armed members of the crowd.

"And I've more than enough gelt on hand to pay for your funerals."

[Whiskeyjack]

Ynys leans against a tent-pole in what passes for an alley in this ramshackle district. He has his cloak drawn tight, bolt pistol in hand, mentally lining up the first shot in case things turn worse.

Organgrinder bolt rounds. As if the normal things weren't scary enough. These local 'toughs' will scatter the second they see what one does to a wooden beam, let alone a human body, he muses morbidly. Behind him, his two covert armsmen are concealing their own slug-thrower pistols, ready to move in and assist. We're in a flanking position, so they shouldn't expect anything from here, and, yep, the fat man's posturing is drawing a crowd. All the more cover for me. He watches as the ground-car draws up and two of the cybered birds start to circle. And he suppresses a sigh.

"Just who exactly is still with my brother guarding his life?" he snaps into the throat mic quietly.

[MHerbert]

"Gutnob, and whatever armsmen Lord Laertes took with him. I must admit though, either you have far too little trust in the capacity of a fanatical Ork, your brother and his best armsmen, or you fear a small group of Ecclesiarchical ministers, who just so happen to live on a Feudal world. Or you believe someone would be so stupid as to attack your brother while he is in Church, something sure to set every civilian upon them in rage."
Lucius laughs heartily, scanning the crowd with the assistance of his Familiar.
"Which, I must wonder, is the more embarrassing?"

Awareness test for any unwelcome surprises in the group of locals
[roll0]
Lucius assisting Arcturus, rolling against a total of 75

[MHerbert]

Lucius grunts in frustration and rage at his planetbound uneasiness, and shaking his head, looks again.
(Fate Point use for I am so Emperor damned sick of failing these Awareness tests, plus i've got some points to spare)

Awareness again:
[roll0] Against 75

Charmed roll to regain fate point
[roll1]

[Vizzi]

Such interesting information he has found, a lost planet, a wrecked craft, and a strange secret on Naduesh. His mind delves deeper in search of more information on such interesting subjects, but with greater caution as well, after all it would do him no good to leave a trace of his presence.


Probably needed.

Tech-use [roll0] vs 55 (45+10)

[positivespace]

Laertes and Gutnob

The monk stammers and yelps as a pulped heap of metal and grot bits are shoved into his arms with enough force to bowl him over and he shakes his fist comically, shouting angrily after Gutnob.

Zor

The files on the lost planet refer to some old, worn records that suggest the location of a lost Imperial paradise world between Zayth and Solace Encarmine, one that held the treasures of several Imperial Lords and Ladies before being lost in a warpstorm that is believe to have now calmed itself.

The lost craft is the wreckage of a mechanicus explorator craft, the Majoris Rouge, that was searching for archeotech near the spinward side of the serpent's cradle when contact was lost. A rogue trader claims to have recently seen it while trading with the stryxis there, who seem to be afraid of it.

Naduesh is going to soon be the target of a minor expedition to discover what truly lies within its ancient, ruined cities at the claims that there is a great Imperial machine lying beneath the planet's surface...The records also mention an untapped beast and slave trade on the planet, and the high amount of archeotech rumoured to be there.

The Rest

Arcturus points out to Lucius that one of the members of the mob seems to be attempting to hide something large and metallic beneath his robes...something that's moving...

Luckily, though, the crowd gets the picture and backs off before a PDF patrol rounds the corner, murmuring and growling to itself. A few improvised weapons are thrown dejectedly to the ground as the mob disperses and a few of the crewmen holler and jeer after them.

[Ipphli]

Roland turns to the jeering crewmen. "Be quiet! If you had more sense none of this would have been necessary. Remember your stations in life: you serve a Rogue Trader, aboard one of the finest ships in the Imperium. You make wages that most Imperial citizens can only dream of. If you can't stop from flaunting such a fact in front of everyone, perhaps a change is in order?

Carry on. No one goes anywhere alone. Anywhere. Stick together, or return to the ship." Waving the men away, Roland walks towards Jakkal and Lucius, nodding to both men as he gets closer. "Hello gentlemen. Impeccable timing as usual. Dirty peasants; I'll be glad to put this world behind us. How did things go at the church?"

[Whiskeyjack]

Seeing the situation defused, Ynys jerks his head back to his pair of armsmen. He holsters his bolt pistol and blends back into the shadows, subvocalizing on the small box: "I'm going to track down some stuff at the Pit. A certain clientele pays top gelt for exotic beasties out of the Expanse, I'll see what they might be in the market for."

[MHerbert]

"Well enough." Lucius shrugs, "I would have much rather preferred to have said my prayers aboard with the ship's confessor, and the Minister seemed to have little more to say than we already knew.

Turning to look back to see if any of the peasant crowd had remained, Lucius shook his head. There was one member midst that crowd. I noticed a large metallic object underneath his cloak. One that appeared to be moving, and that he seemed to have difficulty hiding... I wonder if there are any Hereteks on this planet or some form of metallic Xenos artifacts. It was probably some form of weapon, they would hardly have been carrying it in the middle of a revolting crowd otherwise.

Turning to the Groundcar, Lucius moved to the passenger seat. Still, another time, another day. We can find out more from the Magos once we return to the ship. Hopefully once we meet up with the Lord-Captain this time, we'll be off to do something more interesting than wittering with some feudal priest.

[devinebovine]

Gutnob catches up with Laertes, leaving the shouting monk behind. "Wait fer me, Boss! Iz we goin' to a fight? Oh right," the Ork pauses, remembering that his Captain is usually concerned with supposedly "more important" matters, "Oi forgot uze doez uvva fings sumtimes. Did dat churchy boy say anyfing inneresting? Did 'e give you a message," Gutnob's voice lowers to a whisper in divine fear, "frum da Emprah?"

[Vizzi]

Interesting he thought, no doubt the Captain will be interested in these delicious morsels of information. With a slight shake of his head he disconnects his MIU Mechadendrite from the databanks turning swiftly towards the Magos, his robe swishing around himself in a perhaps stylish manner "The information should prove useful." he remains silent awaiting a response or request.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal sighs and flicks the switch on his hellgun back to off.

"Feckin' peasants," he growls, "If they want the money so bad, why don't they join our ship-clan?"

He heads to the groundcar, ready for the inevitable timeskip to dinner.

[BedrockHound]

Alysa follows behind the captain quietly, making sure to stay near some of the armsmen just in case anything goes wrong.

She'll get into the Phaeton groundcar with the captain, ready for dinner.

[Naquadah]

"Hmm?" Laertes' contemplation is broken by the brash xenos voice. "Oh, well...yes actually. But I can't share the words of the Emperor with you quite yet, so you will have to make do with a human prayer to Him:

Love the Emperor for He is the salvation of mankind
Obey His words for He will lead you into the light of the future
Heed his wisdom for He will protect you from evil
Whisper his prayers with devotion, for they will save your soul
Honour His servants, for they speak in His voice
Tremble before His majesty, for we all walk in His immortal shadow


Even the xenos could learn from studying the Creed," Laertes adds, "As you have, my friend. And yes there will be fighting." He considers how to phrase it as they walk toward the groundcar. "Bad men have decided to disobey the Emperor. They ignore the orders of His...nobs...and think they know better even though they aren't nearly as...big. So they must be crushed."

He climbs into the groundcar and motions for the driver to proceed, pouring himself a glass of wine far too fine to come from this world. And then he keys in his vox.

"Ynys, Roland, Jakka, and my XO aboard Vercingetorix. Sit-rep."

[positivespace]

The various crewmembers abroad give their reports for what has occurred, and the two groundcars meet up once more. Various small errands are taken care of, and sunset comes faster than what would have been expected.

Following your instructions, the groundcar drivers take you and the six favored armsmen you could fit in them with you outside the city, where you are met up with by a group of warriors bedecked not in the soiled yellow and white tabards of the common guardsmen on planet but in the gleaming, well-kept full plate of the gubernatorial guard of this planet. There are five of them, each on horseback and bearing a shield and a finely crafted lasgun. They direct you to a palace atop a mountain shortly north of the city. The base of the palace is surrounded with hedges and high stone walls, and within is a bit of impeccably tended paradise, nothing like the grime and dirt of the common folk you saw in Belas Primus. The palace reaches upwards, three polished grey marblecrete towers around a small landing pad, each topped with black slate and decorate with yellow and red tabards depicting the seal of Serghar's family, a wolf devouring a snake.

With the gubernatorial guardsmens' okay, the gate is opened up to let the groundcars in, but once you and your party have exited the vehicles, they and their drivers are rushed out to wait outside the walls. In here everything is clean and pristine, with gardens and shaped hedges being tended by a few dozen servants while a small number of well-dressed nobles and courtiers drift about, occasionally casting awed, nervous, or even disgusted looks your way.

A distinguished looking man in a well-kept set of velvet servant's robes beckons for you to follow him to the front door of the castle's main hall.
"Please excuse his excellency's momentary lateness," the butler says through a thick mustache, "He had some short amount of work to attend to to ensure that tonight's arrangements would be carried out accordingly."

[Naquadah]

Laertes steps out of the groundcar with a flourish, a withering look directed at anyone on this mudball daring to look down upon him. His standard-bearer climbs from behind him, holding aloft the Dynastic standard. "All hail---!" the man begins, only to be interrupted by the Lord-Captain holding up a hand. "That will not be necessary for the time being, thank you," he says quietly but coldly, starting towards the house and forcing his retinue to follow quickly.

He offers a polite head-tilt to the butler, his brow creasing ever so slightly, looking around in his peripheral vision. "Certainly, important men must needs be available to tend their flocks at a moment's notice," he comments to the butler with a bored affectation, but his eyes are alert.

[MHerbert]

With some effort, Lucius manages to clamber out of the groundcar while maintaining some veneer of grace. Hurrying to catch up with the impatient Lord-Captain he surveys his surroundings. Unless protocol would restrict such a thing, Arcturus is perched atop of his Navigator's staff.

While Laertes talks to the butler, Lucius momentarily stops to case his view into the aether, hoping to find some physic phenominon or evidence of a psyker that would help in negotiations.

Psyniscience Check:
[roll0]
vs 54 (With Arcturus help a successful test had an additional 2 degrees of success)

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal whistles lowly at the palace as he steps out of the groundcar, Steel on his shoulder.
"Nice pad. I wonder how much this place costed to build...or how defensible it is. If we furnished that gate with some rockcrete and ceramite..."

He goes on and on beneath his breath about how he could turn the palace into a fortress. With blackjack, and hookers. Well, actually, just the blackjack. The hookers would leave a bad atmosphere. The amasec would be a must, though.

[devinebovine]

Gutnob gets out of the car, and gags. This place is so not Orky it is sickening. Why some people make things so neat and tidy, he'll never know. He's also distracted, as he has been searching his pockets for 'Ey Uze, at a total loss for where the grot has got. He leans over to Jakkal.

"'Ey Jakz, doez uze know where Oi put me grot? 'E's abowt dis big an' iz greenish an' iz really gud at scratchin' backz. Oi fink Oi lost 'im somewhere. Oi 'ope 'e didn't run off, 'e's got some new wingz like your birdy dere!"

Throughout the meeting, Gutnob will "surreptitiously" look for 'Ey Uze. Places he will look: under sofas, behind vases, in vases, under plates/bowls, under cushions, etc. He will always attempt to be sneaky, but that's not really going to work, is it? Nor will he actually find his late grot. He'll likely have to wait to get back on the ship for a spore to spawn.

[BedrockHound]

Alysa steps out of the groundcar with the grace she can manage and looks about with wide eyes.

She says, "This place is beautiful," in her meek little voice, squeezing Motts so tightly that the two headed crocodilian wakes up and chirps at her.

[Ipphli]

Roland steps out the groundcar, his clothing respectable but muted, as is proper for his position. He gazes around the palace, his expression carefully neutral. He glances at Jakkal, shaking his head. "Would you truly choose to make your stand on this rock to begin with?" Ge speaks softly, meant only for Jakkal's ears.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Sorry, friend Gutnob, I have not seen your lesser about the place," Jakkal groans internally when he realizes what probably happened. Mentioning wings (or anything, really) and 'Ey 'Uze being missing is not a good combination.

"I spent most of my life on a planet. They're surprisingly sturdy."

[Ipphli]

"Yes, but this planet? I thought you had better taste than that." Roland shoots a grin at Jakkal, before resuming his neutral expression. Stepping forward, he speaks in a whisper to the Captain. "What exactly do you wish me to acquire or learn here Captain? Anything special I should know about?"

[TechnoScrabble]

"I wouldn't make my last stand on a planet at all. I'd go down with the ship," Jakkal says solemnly, "She is my home. My clan. All I could ever hope to have. But nevermind that. When does party start?"

[positivespace]

After a few minutes, the massive doors on the front of the palace open. The room immediately within is a grandly decorated foyer, with spiraling staircases in the corners that lead up to various floors and balconies, yellow and white tapestries and rugs and trophies on gilded plaques are set about the foyer. Various servants and lesser nobles scurry about, making sure to stay out of your way.

"The dining room is prepared for you and the rest of tonight's guests to dine, Milord. The first bell to ring will be when the first course is being served. Which would be right about now, Milord."

Dingaling!

"The dining room is to your left, Milord."

[MHerbert]

Lucius follows closely behind the Lord-Captain as they enter into the dining hall.
As he hopes he is in slightly more understanding company, Lucius pulls back his hood so that all can see the headscarf which obscures his third eye.

Sitting down at the table he activates the small legs at the bottom of his Navigation staff, allowing it to stand tall next to him without having to lean it against anything. At the dinner table, Lucius eats a truly considerable amount, trying the most exotic and weird foods on offer, attempting to outdo all others while leaving all the negotiations, manipulating an conniving to those infinitely better at it.

[Naquadah]

The Lord-Captain leads his entourage into the dining room, sparing passing glances for the decor and finery apparent in this mansion.

Once within the sprawling dining room, Laertes assumes his position at the place of honor, with Gutnob posted behind him as obvious bodyguard. Jakkal is stationed at a lesser table on the other side of the room, affording a clear view of everything. Laertes sits next to the governor, with his Navigator on the other side.

The Lord-Captain makes polite conversation with the governor and the other high-ranking guests, eating sparingly but tasting everything.

[Whiskeyjack]

Ynys rolls in, deftly accepting two flutes of wine from a server in one hand, whilst plucking morsels from passing trays with the other. He has cleaned up, wearing black accented with silver that contrasts with the bronze of his obvious implants. Knowing that snakes ever dwell in large houses, he keeps an eye open for those of less noble virtue, the better to broker deals with such folk for his brother.

Ynys is not really enjoying the party for anything except the food - the company is sorely lacking and not all of that is due to the governor's taste in guests. Still, it's better than prison, he thinks as he helps himself to another drink.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal stays where he is stationed and keeps a steady view over the entire room, keeping his head on a swivel and using his link to Steel to double his viewing area. He'll eat anything that looks even remotely appetizing, but partakes of no alcohol or provided drugs, requesting water or fruit juice. He doesn't feel comfortable having something affect his mind in this place.

"It's so odd, my cici kuş. How they can be so comfortable like this. Yes, the food is good, but their clothes...no protection. So many people always want to hurt each other, it is best to be prepared to hurt them first."

[BedrockHound]

Alysa is much more comfortable here, where everyone is nicely dressed as well, if a bit jealous of some of the more expensive clothing. She sticks close to Laertes, though on the other side of him from Gutnob. The ork means well enough, but to be seen too close to a xenos could hurt the reputation she likes to pretend she has. She eats very little, and drinks only cold water, making sure to nab some of the more fleshy sides for Motts.

[Ipphli]

Roland walks in behind the Captain, eyeing the room and its occupants. He sizes each of them up, determining who to speak to and in what order. Of course, being seated rather than able to mingle would pose a bit of a problem. The seats around the Captain taken, he sits himself near the Tybalt delegation, smiling and introducing himself.

[Vizzi]

Zor was annoyed, he disliked party's on principle although he was well aware that the deals and discussions in them could be important, still having to leave the ship by shuttle in a hurry to arrive in time did nothing to his disposition.

Still the presence of fellow members of the Adeptus Mechanicus could perhaps prove a welcome distraction, as they entered he quickly went to his fellows.

[positivespace]

The dining hall is a long room with a vaulted ceiling and one huge main table surrounded by ornate chairs and topped with a red tablecloth covered in gold electro-plated dishes. On its sides are smaller tables with white tablecloths and sterling silver dishes and long benches, where the armsmen and servants of the attendees may sit. The tapestries present throughout the halls are here as well, light from massive stained glass windows dancing across them.

The nobles you've seen scurrying about quickly seat themselves, some bickering over seats closer to Laertes and the Governor's seats, attended to by their servants and the velvet-robed palace servants. A large man in an ornate metal mask and a dark red cloak is here, servoskulls and metal arms slipping in and out from beneath the hems of his cloak. He is tended to be several lower ranking, less augmented Adeptus Mechanicus tech-priests.

Also here is a man that one of the servants explains to you is Francis Tybalt. A tall, constantly grinning old man with a thick, white beard and hair with singed edges. A magnificent power sword sits on his belt next to a hand flamer, and over his dark orange dress suit he wears a matte-black carapace chestplate with a white silohuette of a burning sword on it. He is constantly surrounded by some of the richer nobles, who laugh at his antics a bit too much.

A set of horns blows and the Governor, Hans Serghar, enters the room, the nobles clapping and the servants bowing as he passes by in red, black, and golden-yellow attire, accompanied by six of his 'elite' guardsmen. He's 'aging nobly', his wrinkles gathered mostly around the corners of his eyes and his clean brown hair only greying in a 'professional' stripe near the back of his head.

He shakes hands with Laertes, making a great show of welcoming the Rogue Trader and his crew and expounding them to the guests despite the odd looks tossed towards Jakkal and Gutnob (and from time to time, Lucius and Alysa).

"My dear guests, please, feast yourselves on this fine meal!"

The dining begins. The meal really is nice, several courses over the course of almost three hours, with drinks one wouldn't expect to find anywhere but the palace, especially on a planet like this. Most of the food is on the tables, but servants carry platters of smaller foods for the nobles who get up and walk around every few minutes.

Gutnob
You catch a younger servant boy looking at you with intense curiosity and awe rather than the disgust of the other people here from a corner, where he holds up a plate of sauced ribs for any passerby. He quickly looks away when noticed, but only for a moment.

Ynys
About halfway through the meal, one of the servants of one of the attending nobles sidles over to you.
"You've been asking an awful lot of expensive questions, friend."

Roland
One of the businessmen with Tybalt shakes your hand readily.
"Ah, you must be with Captain Yronwood! Very good, very good. Visiting merchants and traders doing business with Tybalt Arms Manufacture are the main source of income on this planet, I hope you understand, so we're excited that you're here, and I hope-"

The man is interrupted by a deep, racuous bellow from Tybalt himself.
"Well then, a member of the Yronwood crew! How're you doing today, son? Keeping your aim spot on and your barrel hot?" he doesn't wait for an asnwer, and is smiling so widely his eyes are shut "Good man! Say, you ever seen a sword light itself on fire?"

Alysa
One of the lesser techpriests, one almost as small as you, makes her way over to you.
"You have a beaut-artfully crafted arm. May I look at it?"

Laertes
Hans makes small talk about the state of his planet throughout most of the meal, none of which strikes you as important and much of which strikes you as pandering.
"...and as you can see we are doing our best to improve the technology of this planet, so that it could better serve He On His Throne. But that's not what I called you here to discuss. We need to talk about what you plan to do while you're here. I greatly hope you are planning on doing some sort of trade, perhaps attending to some of the nobles?"

Jakkal

While your request certainly brings you an odd look, you are brought a glass filled with a sweet, delicious juice you are told comes from a terrestrial fruit called an 'apple'. You are informed it could be used to make a nice cider as well, but you decline the offer.

Steel draws many looks, some of them admiring of the bird's fine craftsmanship, and eventually, a small number of the lesser nobles have gathered around you, their presence and closeness making you a tad uncomfortable.

"That is an amazing bird!"
"Where did you get it from?"
"Who are you here with?"

Zor
The Adeptus Mechanicus representative here is not the same as the one you saw on the station, although he (she? it?) is almost as heavily modified. A trio of Skitarii, two burly, muscled men and one similarly built woman, all probably vat-grown lightyears away and plugged into their augmented suits of carapace armour with various wires and tubes.

"I remember from the Magos's uploads...you are the one who visited our station this morning? A greeting extended to you, and an apology that you must stand witness with us to the weaknesses of the flesh, Explorator."

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal squirms slightly beneath his armour, straining his neck above the crowd to keep his eye on the good Lord-Captain. His visor is up as a matter of respect, but he briefly considers dropping it and punching these people if they don't leave him alone.

"I am Jakkal of Ship-Clan Vercingetorix, and my cici kuş here, Steel, is a grapplehawk, a cybernetic bird used for hunting down and mutilating or capturing anything that happens to bother me. It was a gift from my liege, The Good Lord-Captain Laertes Yronwood, who is over ther discussing important matters with your planet's Governor. I serve as his Chief Bosun, meaning I keep his vast crew, including-" Jakkal lies, "-the ork over there well trained, under control, and loyal to the Emperor. Who knows what could happen if something distracted me for even a moment and all those well trained and well armed Clan-Friends of mine decided they just wanted to break something expensive?"

I don't know if this is supposed to be an intimidate or bluff or whatever roll, but I'm rolling.

100

[positivespace]

Jakkal

Some of the nobles look at each other nervously before backing off, and a few more just shake their heads and sigh at the apparent lack of respect you have for them.

A few stay behind though, one of them-a short (but still taller than you), muscled woman with tanned and scarred skin, taut musculature, and a much more practical dress than any of the other women here, with the faint outline of a holster visible on her waist beneath it-who you now realize is not a noble but probably the guard of one of the attendees, dares to continue speaking.

"'Alf the people 'ere are armed, Bosun Jakkal. You needn't worry. Though I wonder why such a well trained crew would need their master's constant attentions to keep from acting like little children?"

[MHerbert]

Lucius continues eating unashamedly, looking about at all that goes around in the dining hall in between massive bites.
He isn't overly bothered by the lack of attention he is given, given the fear with which Navigators are afforded, one would normally only approach him for a matter of great importance.
As he drinks a large flute of wine he smiles.
At least he isn't being pestered by hordes of adulating planet-bound sycophants.

[TechnoScrabble]

"Same reason the people here need to be kept controlled lest they all stab each other in the back," Jakkal says with a slight smirk, giving Steel a rib to be processed into nutrients and fuel, "We're humans. Warriors, schemers, thrill-seekers all. The only differences set between us are who's controlled, and who's in control.


And I aim to stay in control."

[BedrockHound]

"What? Oh, um... Thank you. It was a...'gift' from a previous 'employer'. I am Alysa Braehart, Choir-Master onboard the Vercingetorix," Alysa curtsies.

[Ipphli]

Roland
One of the businessmen with Tybalt shakes your hand readily.
"Ah, you must be with Captain Yronwood! Very good, very good. Visiting merchants and traders doing business with Tybalt Arms Manufacture are the main source of income on this planet, I hope you understand, so we're excited that you're here, and I hope-"

The man is interrupted by a deep, racuous bellow from Tybalt himself.
"Well then, a member of the Yronwood crew! How're you doing today, son? Keeping your aim spot on and your barrel hot?" he doesn't wait for an asnwer, and is smiling so widely his eyes are shut "Good man! Say, you ever seen a sword light itself on fire?"



Roland offers a slight smile to the lesser businessman before looking at Tybalt himself. Grinning widely, he shakes his head. "I haven't, actually. But I have heard rumors of you having such a sword, my lord. Perhaps, after the meal, you would care to give a demonstration? I know myself and the Lord-Captain would be most pleased to see it, and perhaps order one for himself."

[positivespace]

Lucius

The man seated to your left coughs and extends his hand to you during a pause in the eating.

"So, you are the...Navigator for Captain Yronwood, correct? I am Machius Norhaus."

Roland

"Of course! Wouldn't want to steal the show from Governor Serghar and your Captain, now would I? Tybalt laughs, "Come here, son, have a seat next to me! I was hoping I'd see some of your Captain's representatives this evening! I'll tell you how I got this fine blade!"

He's really not that loud above the sound of the conversation around you, but everything he says is like a giddy shout.

Jakkal

The woman raises an eyebrow and sips at her amasec.

"I see. A commendable goal, I suppose."

She slinks back off to her seat, keeping an interested eye on you.

Alysa

"I am Mechanic Anastra, Identifier Theta-555. Do you know who manufactured it? Or perhaps where they left their indentifier mark? I would appreciate learning the methods used to craft this prosthetic," the Tech-Priest runs her hand lovingly up and down your arm as if nothing could be wrong with that.

[MHerbert]

Lucius smiles and turns his head at an angle only a Navigator would be capable of achieving. Seeing the probably look of alarm, he straightens up and makes apologetic gestures with his hands (which appear even beneath his gloves to end in slight points).
"Oh indeed I am Mr. Norhaus; Navigator Primaris aboard the great ship Vercingetorix. My name is Lucius Praxis of House Xan'Tai, but you may call me Lucius if I might return the favour."
He proffers one hand to shake.
"Ah, but now you know my position and House and I am at a loss for yours. So if I might be so bold as to ask, who precisely are you? You must surely be a man of great influence to sit so closely to such esteemed guests as ourselves."
Lucius gestures towards both himself and the Lord-Captain.

[Whiskeyjack]

"Why my good fellow, I don't believe I've had the pleasure," Ynys begins, offering the servant one of his glasses. "Don't worry, I won't tell if you indulge a little if you're supposed to be working," he adds. "Expensive questions are my raison d'être. The cause of and solution to all of life's problems. See my friend over there, talking to Lord Tybalt, or my Lord-Captain discussing with the Governor? Both of those conversations should be positively loaded with expensive questions of a certain nature. And if asked of a certain other nature, such questions provide and dispense opportunities not properly discussed in the sort of shining bastion that is this manse. So, friend, what questions have you heard me asking, and do you have a response to any of them? Or merely questions of your own?" Ynys's eyes shine as he offers a wide smile, which stretches his bionics slightly, making him look as if a mask of skin is stretched over a face of beautiful burnished bronze.

[TechnoScrabble]

((Finally decided on a vaguely Turkish accent for Jak))

Jakkal is not comfortable with being stared at. Animals, especially ones kept in closed in areas, tend to take such things as threats.

And what is he any more than a jackal that escaped it's planet-sized kennel through disaster? Nothing. He is but a feral animal kept complacent by the scraps his master deems him worthy of, coerced into the caging formality of these situations by the hope of a brief and bloody battle to scavenge the spoils from.

And so, purple prose and all, Jakkal is a bit unnerved, causing him to snap a bit at the nobles who still dare to crowd around him.

"And what do you lot think of it, eh? Would you be any higher than the animals you eat and the servants you beat if it weren't for the blessings of His Most Holy Self? I think you'll find the armsmen under my command to be smarter than the average thug, and under much more control than any common guardsmen, but what makes them anything more than a vicious pack of megasaurs on the end of my leash?"

Jakkal takes a long drink of his apple juice.

"Think about that the next time you want to doubt any member of my Ship-Clan."

[Vizzi]

Zor
The Adeptus Mechanicus representative here is not the same as the one you saw on the station, although he (she? it?) is almost as heavily modified. A trio of Skitarii, two burly, muscled men and one similarly built woman, all probably vat-grown lightyears away and plugged into their augmented suits of carapace armour with various wires and tubes.

"I remember from the Magos's uploads...you are the one who visited our station this morning? A greeting extended to you, and an apology that you must stand witness with us to the weaknesses of the flesh, Explorator."

"Indeed i am." he pauses slightly his mechendrites moving beneath his robe "Not everyone understands the weakness of the flesh." his voice amused yet ironic "At the very least having worthwhile discussion is something i am thankful for in this event." he turns towards the mingling masses "Any particular subject we could discuss?".

[Ipphli]

Roland

"Of course! Wouldn't want to steal the show from Governor Serghar and your Captain, now would I? Tybalt laughs, "Come here, son, have a seat next to me! I was hoping I'd see some of your Captain's representatives this evening! I'll tell you how I got this fine blade!"

He's really not that loud above the sound of the conversation around you, but everything he says is like a giddy shout.



The seneschal smiles as he moves to the proffered seat. He leans forward slightly, as though interested in what the old merchant had to say. "Please, do tell sir. Might I summon a servant to refill your glass first?"

[BedrockHound]

Alysa is too meek to pull her arm away, but she swallows nervously.

"The Magos who crafted it is dead now, I'm afraid. Perished fighting a number of unruly xenos in his search for ancient relics."

[positivespace]

Lucius

"Machius Norhaus, regent of house Norhaus. I'm rather interested in possibly managing some sort of investment in the void, but as you can see, there's no way to get a ship on this rock. Perhaps you could teach one of my house the ways of Navigation and void-faring?" the man shakes the proffered hand, quickly recovering from the shock of Lucius' 'Excorcist' imitation.

Ynys

The servant sets the glass down on the table and gives Ynys a slightly confused glare.
"Listen. You've been asking around about the beast trade. There are a lot of people here who want in on that."

Zor

"Perhaps business? Rogue Traders and their crews always need more capital. There are ventures about to occur that I have been informed of that could use the assistance of your craft."

Roland

"No need to trouble them, my good man, I always have my flask!" Tybalt pulls a shining brass-plated flask from beneath his belt and takes a swig, "But perhaps you would like to have something before we settle in for this fine tale? Some amasec, perhaps, or some lager?"

Jakkal

The last few nobles bothering you sidle away, some with derisive looks on their faces, some looking nervous, and some nodding bitterly. The armswoman in the dress smiles ever-so-slightly.

Alysa

Anastra lets your arm go, a sad look crossing the still organic sections of her face.

"Perhaps, then...you could allow me to study it some time?"

[MHerbert]

"The ways of the void and navigation and travel about the reach of the Emperor is truly a great calling. I would gladly teach an aspiring member of your house the ways of Stellar Navigation, assuming of course, a potential long term and mutually beneficial association between our families."
Lucius takes a long draugh of wine from a nearby flute.
"However there are a few things I must mention, firstly her tutelage would unfortunately have to take part aboard the Vercingetorix as we transverse the stars, where better for some practical experience. Secondly, while I can teach her a great deal that I know about stellar navigation, the secrets and knowledge of navigation through the great Empyrean will unfortunately remain the sole purview of my house, and those who share my blood. Not to mean that I wouldn't share my knowledge to a close friend, but your vassal just wouldn't have the necessary equipment."
Lucius smiles and points at his headband where his third eye is hidden.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal relaxes now that he's not surrounded by people. Well, not as tightly surrounded, anyways.

The armswoman eyeing him is still bothersome, though, and he takes a moment to toss a glare her way before resuming his duty watching over the party.

[BedrockHound]

"Perhaps. I will only be here for a short while, though, while my employer handles some transactions," Alysa smiles soft at the tech-priestess.

[Ipphli]

Roland smiles and gestures for a servant to fill his glass with whatever this planet calls a decent wine. Taking a sip, he forces himself to remain smiling as he sets the glass down. He gestures for Tybalt to go on. "Thank you sir. Please, you've held me in suspense long enough. Do begin your tale."

[positivespace]

Alysa

"And then you resume your travels into the Expanse, discovering new worlds and lost technology?" Anastra asks with a muffled tone of excitement.

Lucius

Machius's eyes widen slightly and a small grin crosses his face.

"Ah, so proper Navigation requires one to be a psyker, then? Is that how you were able to tell I was referring to my niece, your psyker magics?"

Perhaps Machius doesn't actually know what a Navigator is...Given the planet he's on, no big surprise.

Jakkal

The woman shakes her head as if exasperated and flips you off from under one arm. It would appear that it is on like Ghazghkull Kong.

Roland

The wine here has mostly been mulled into amasec, but it's still actually very good, probably because this is an agricultural planet.

"Ah, yes, the tale of my most prized possession! I like to think it's a very good story," Tybalt scoots his chair sideways to get a better angle to talk to you at, "About fourty years ago, before Lady von Perell and the Navy cleared out the pirates, I was a gunsmith, taking after my father's craft, making autoguns for nobles and their warriors. Now, one man requested a precision auto-pistol, and I made it for him, but his aim was terrible. He accused me of making a shoddy firearm and so I challenged him to a duel. We met in the arenas and he put forth this blade," Tybalt withdraws the blade from it's sheath, revealing a beautiful, gleaming blade with a yellowish tinge to it and engravings of dragons and knights and whatnot close to the hilt, "Against me and the sabre I carried at the time. He got a few good blows in, but it seems I was just better with a blade than him. I took his sword as my spoils, and walked away with an epiphany: Fire is the most beautiful and thing man can make in this life, and we still cannot master it after all these years. Luckily, Lady von Perell started selling what promethium she wasn't foolishly donating to the Navy right about then and I was able to come up with the designs for the munitions that have made me so successful!

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal sighs and ignores her for now. It wouldn't do properly to deck someone in the schnozz halfway through dinner.

[MHerbert]

"Oh indeed, the abilities of both the "normal" psyker such as my great associate Chior Master Alysa and those of the my blood, the Navis Nobilite, are both powerful and of great secrecy." Lucius says as he gestures towards Alysa. "However to be a Navigator, to be one capable of guiding a starship across the great unknown, one must be born to my house and bear the great inheritance of the Navis Nobilite." Lucius glances about conspiratorially and leans towards Machius while slanting his headband slightly, as to grace Machius' with a short glance at his closed third eye, before leaning back and adjusting it to be fully concealed once more.
"But, if you are still agreeable, then I would gladly take upon your niece as a student of the void, as my crew, well the honourable Lord-Captain's crew, and I travel the stars. The period of her education may take a number of years however, and when we return to the Calixis sector is ultimately up to the Lord-Captain. But I am certain he would not have any objection to such an agreement, especially at the behest of his Navigator. Then, Machius Norhaus, if you are still amiable, a toast, to your niece's tutelage and to the prosperous nature of our future endeavour amidst the mysteries of the Koronus Expanse."
Even if Machius does not agree, Lucius will continue to eat and talk in a friendly manner to him for the rest of the meal.

[BedrockHound]

"Yes, that is generally how it works," ALysa says with a bit of a laugh.

[Ipphli]

Roland claps politely, the smile still on his face. "Marvelous. Nothing better than the spoils of war, my lord. And that blade is exquisite. I am positive the Lord-Captain will want a chance to admire it, and even possibly purchase alone like it. Tell me, do you offer such a thing?" Leaning forward, he whispers conspiratorially, "Just between us, the Lord-Captain has talked recently about equipping his armsmen with better armament and gear. However, he normally does business with another. If you were to offer some sort of incentive, a special deal or bonus, I'm sure I could convince him to buy from you, since we are already in port."

[Vizzi]

"That information could be of interest to Rogue Trader." he pauses slightly "Whether he uses or not is solely on his judgement." he turns fully to the Adeptus Mechanicus representative and motions for him to continue.

[Naquadah]

"Certainly Governor, we are always pleased to discuss trade with worlds loyal to Him-on-Terra, and the local lords certainly have much that they can offer for interstellar commerce. Unfortunately our stop must needs be rather short, so if you might submit a list of the nobles' commercial interests and import/export brokers to my factotum," he indicates Roland, "We would be happy to analyze the logistics, and I would be likewise happy to address several of them with the best trade options while we remain here." Laertes sips his drink. "Now, on a more macro-level issue, I'm curious - have you had any issues with your asteroid belt recently?"

[positivespace]

Lucius

Machius smiles, nods, and raises a glass of amasec.
"Indeed! A toast!"

Roland

"Oh, indeed, my good man! I've had several 'copies' of this fine blade made by myself and some of the craftsmen in my tutelage. The only problem is, they're not quite as powerful, as we lack the proper design to make a truely magnificent Burning Blade on this planet. But I believe that is one of many points we can do business on!" Tybalt's voice lowers to a near-whisper to continue speaking with you, albeit an amazingly cheerful whisper.
"I'd like to expand my trade, if I could, and I believe you and your Lord-Captain could be a great help in this endeavour. I already have a few out-system factories, but I'm hoping to make a deal with a forge world, and possibly find some new designs or areas of trade. I'd be more than willing to help fund any of your adventures that might lead to anything interesting and valuable, especially if I can weaponize it!"

Alysa

With what sounds like a muffled but excited giggle, the tech-priestess runs off back to the Adeptus Mechanicus representatives and begins communicating in binary with a communications servitor with enthusiasm unseen in higher ranking AdMech members.

Zor

"There will be an expedition to Naduesh, soon. An expedition that will require guards and excess cargo space for reasons I am not authorized to know. There is also a mineral world past the Serpent's cradle that requests more mining equipment, citing that their current equipment is udnergoing malfunctions earlier than expected. I find it suspect that errors should happen so soon, but it is not my place to question QUI-244's Magos. It is not as if they have done anything to expect an Imperial Inquisition."

Laertes

"As much as their pandering or mere presence irks me, I can later tonight provide you with a meeting with some of the more business inclined houses and Lord Tybalt," Hans chuckles, "All for my people's best. But I have to ask, who told you about the asteroid belt? It's not a safe place to go, Captain. There are rumours, that the pirates' base might still be there. Ships have gone in and not come out. Small ships, yes, usually Navy shuttles or some idiot noble's newest toy, but they're gone nontheless."

A servant steps up the the governor and places a timepiece on the table before hurrying away.

"Ah, yes," Hans's face lightens up quickly, "We can discuss this in a moment."

Hans stands up and taps a spoon against a metal chalice, drawing the room's attention and finally silencing the horde of noisy nobles, who all look expectantly at the Governor.

"I do believe...that it is time...for tonight's...entertainment!"

Several clusters of more amiably minded guests clap or raise their glasses, and a procession of Gubernatorial Guard and servants come from the door at the back end of the room and begin escorting groups of nobles through the door and down the massive spiral staircase beyond it into the basement below.

"I trust you and your crew can manage your own way down the stairs without my guards having to watch you, Captain?"

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal calls the armsmen together to form a guard around Lord-Captain Shyeel-Yronwood, ready to respond if anything were to go badly.

He is interested in seeing tonight's entertainment, certainly, but some part of him wonders if perhaps it might be something horrible or heretical, to be hidden beneath the palace like that...

[Ipphli]

Roland smiled and nodded. "Of course, sir. I think you and the captain are on the same page, as it were. It would be my pleasure to speak to the Captain on your behalf. How could I do any less for a man of your stature and means?" As the party moves to the stairs, Roland moves in behind the captain, sticking close.

[Whiskeyjack]

"In on it like how?" Ynys drawls, draining his glass with a wide smile. "Import? Export? Booking? Venue management? We're talking live theater, friend, and there are a lot of components to that." He rises as the call to the entertainment begins. "Walk with me, friend, and let's have a chat..."

[Naquadah]

"Ah, well, a little bird told me," Laertes deadpans. "Is there still trouble? I thought your pirates were gone, but it seems not. Governor, I recognize the particular difficulties you face being off the normal trade routes. Vercingetorix might have a look for you, but if the pirates are so dangerous," he shrugs. "Unfortunately we gentlemen would need to talk about the...outcome. Being gentlemen, it is so crass to have to discuss receivables, which is why I have a small army of factors across this sector and its neighbors, but...with the risk of damage to my vessel and livelihood, not to mention the risks to forming business ventures here when any shipment might be waylaid, I must needs attend to this issue personally, if the Navy has been incapable or unwilling to see to it."

He rises for the entertainment as well. "Certainly we can, I hope we can discuss this further in the next room." Laertes inclines his head politely, waiting for the governor to step away and walk with him to the entertainment, and casts an eye at Gutnob to follow.

Laertes touches a small panel built into a button on his robes. "Jakkal, we're moving," he subvocalizes to his bosun.

[positivespace]

The staircase extends past a guarded cellar and into a large cavern below, carved straight from the dark brown rock around it and supported with grey bands of rockcrete and cobblestones held together by mortar. Braziers hanging from the ceiling provide dim, flickering light, casting wicked shadows across the room.

The room is easily almost a hundred meters across, an ovular area in the center taking up most of the room. The floor there is stone, loosely covered in sand and straw, and that is surrounded by a five meter high stone wall with gated tunnels running through it. Atop the wall are wooden stadium seats, and at the high end of the oval, a massive round box surrounded by several smaller podiums, from which hang more of Serghar's tapestries.

People seat themselves around the stadium, usually as close to the arena at the bottom as possible, but some of the richer looking nobles-including Machius Norhaus and the servant Ynys is speaking to-seat themselves in the podiums surrounding the royalty box. Francis Tybalt and his attendants fill up a podium, as do the AdMech representatives, who seem bored and displeased with all of this. Hans Serghar takes his seat in the royalty box, leaving a few seats for Laertes and his crew, and the minister from the cathedral is there.

Once everyone is seated, the minister steps up to the front of the box and holds his arms out, silencing the crowd, before speaking.

"Let us all thank the Most Holy Emperor that we are able to be here this evening to enjoy the entertainment so graciously provided by Lord Serghar and the Houses of Norhaus, Allatos, and Jonnson. We here are all blessed by our Saviour-On-His-Throne, and so let these battles tonight not be a contest of who is most blessed by He, but rather, who is most skilled and deserving of his blessing."

There is some applause from the crowd, and the minister steps back and takes his seat, pleased with himself. An announcer steps forward and gives a long list of the battles to be done tonight in a quick, excited voice that suits his job as a 'sports' announcer well. Two of the gates open up, one letting out three confused men dressed in prison rags and wielding rusted weapons, and the other releasing a maddened grox, and the bloodshed begins messily and quickly, much to the audience's joy.

Hans gestures for Captain Laertes to sit next to him.

[positivespace]

Ynys

"Well," the servant finally speaks up, relieved that you're now getting straight to the point, "Import, mostly. There's not much to export from here, milord, other than food and local crafts, unless you could get ahold of the smugglers somehow, but I doubt they'd be wanting to set up anything permanant. Doesn't make security sense if you ask me. But there's always demand for anything exotic or rare here, now that merchants stop off every now and then to trade their higher tech for food and fuel and trinkets."

Roland

"Ah, very good! Do enjoy tonight's brawls, my good man, and we will meet again soon, I hope!"

[Vizzi]

Zor mood turns to sharp amusement as his fellow Magos finishes talking "Indeed, no proper Mechanicus facility would do anything to warrant an Imperial Inquisition." his voice having a tinge of amusement "I will give the information to the Rogue Trader, no doubt he already has many offers." he pauses as the host announces tonight's entertainment and they move towards their designated place "Wasteful and without purpose." he says without emotion.

[MHerbert]

Sitting with the others in the royalty box, Lucius turns his nose up at the visceral brutality before him. The execution of prisoners or slaves was acceptable, even by gladiatorial combat. Yet for the planetary nobility to consider this poor quality combat entertainment was almost insulting.
Lucius waits quietly, paying little attention to the fight itself and surveying the crowd for anything else of interest, hoping they might send out a few actual gladiators, and a creature bred for battle, not merely a food source.

Awareness Check if applicable using both his own senses and Arcturus
[roll0]
Against Arcturus' 75 (45 Per +20 Training + 10 Assistance)

[ChaoticSky]

!Vizzi

Coming out of seemingly no where, Kell walked by the Magos..es? Magosi? Magoose? her cloak billowing slightly around her tall, inhumanly lithe form as she spoke, her waspish voice pulled her tone almost permanently into what humans would call a 'sneer', but in this particular case, it was rife with even more complex emptions... was that excitement? "Oh, I disagree Mekeigh. Truly, i had begun to despair your race having any culture at all.... but wonders never cease."

How long had she been there? Where did she come from? had she even left the ship with you? Youll never know~

Kell, of course, made her way through the stands to the very front rows, where it took a minimum of hissing to clear a reasonable space of rabble to enjoy the show properly.

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal follows his orders closely and has the armsmen form a staggered pair of columns, thee of them on either side of the good Lord-Captain. With a squad-level group of men it looks like just some sort of procession, but the tactical value of such a formation is sound with any number of men above four.

Jakkal himself walks directly behind the Lord-Captain's right shoulder, ready to jump in the way of any bullets.

He looks towards the arena with a bit of admiration, but a bit of boredom given the first fight.

[positivespace]

The fight ends quickly, the diseased grox trampling the unlucky prisoners before being shot by one of the handlers, and the next contestants-a trio of men in gleaming plate armour facing a hullghast- are brought out almost before the bodies are disposed of. After two of the gladiators and the hullghast are slain, the other is dragged off to have his now missing hand tended to, and warrior-slaves brought out to do battle with each other and various beasts and mutants likely dragged from the crawlspaces of a voidship, these battles interspersed with duels between the champions and scions of various minor noble houses, the crowd throwing various rubbish into the arena near constantly.

The entirety of the party is allowed to sit wherever in the arena, though the Captain-and, of course, his armsmen-are encouraged to sit near the Governor as he points out various nobles to Laertes and briefly describes their areas of business.

The AdMech representative sends a sub-vox message to Zor in basic binary, encoded behind a bit of basic modem-song that should require little work given Zor's skill.
01011001 01101111 01110101 01110010 0100000 01100011 01110010 01100001 01100110 01110100 0100000 01101001 01110011 0100000 01100110 01101111 01110101 01101110 01100100 0100000 01101111 01110101 01110100 01110111 01100001 01110010 01100100 01101100 01111001 0100000 01100001 01100011 01100011 01100101 01110000 01110100 01100001 01100010 01101100 01100101 0100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 0100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 0100000 01110100 01100001 01110011 01101011 01110011 0100000 01110000 01110010 01100101 01110110 01101001 01101111 01110101 01110011 01101100 01111001 0100000 01101101 01100101 01101110 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 01100101 01100100 0101110 0100000 01010010 01100101 01100011 01101111 01101101 01110000 01100101 01101110 01110011 01100101 0100000 01101001 01110011 0100000 01110100 01101111 0100000 01100010 01100101 0100000 01101110 01100101 01100111 01101111 01110100 01101001 01100001 01110100 01100101 01100100 0100000 01110101 01110000 01101111 01101110 0100000 01100001 01100011 01100011 01100101 01110000 01110100 01100001 01101110 01100011 01100101 0100000 01101111 01100110 0100000 01110100 01100001 01110011 01101011 01110011 0101110 0100000 01000001 01101100 01110011 01101111 0101100 0100000 01100001 0100000 01110010 01100101 01110001 01110101 01100101 01110011 01110100 0100000 01101000 01100001 01110011 0100000 01100010 01100101 01100101 01101110 0100000 01101101 01100001 01100100 01100101 0100000 01100010 01111001 0100000 01010100 01101000 01100101 01110100 01100001 0101101 0110101 0110101 0110101 0100000 01110100 01101111 0100000 01101010 01101111 01101001 01101110 0100000 01111001 01101111 01110101 01110010 0100000 01100011 01110010 01100101 01110111 0100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 0100000 01100001 01101110 0100000 01110101 01101110 01100100 01100101 01110100 01100101 01110010 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100101 01100100 0100000 01100001 01101101 01101111 01110101 01101110 01110100 0100000 01101111 01100110 0100000 01110100 01101001 01101101 01100101 0100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 0100000 01101110 01101111 0100000 01100110 01100101 01100101 0101100 0100000 01110100 01101000 01101111 01110101 01100111 01101000 0100000 01100110 01110101 01100101 01101100 0100000 01100001 01101110 01100100 0100000 01110011 01110100 01101111 01110010 01100001 01100111 01100101 0100000 01110011 01110000 01100001 01100011 01100101 0100000 01101100 01101001 01101011 01100101 01101100 01111001 0100000 01110010 01100101 01110001 01110101 01101001 01110010 01100101 01100100 0101110 0100000 01000001 01100011 01100011 01100101 01110000 01110100 01100001 01100010 01101100 01100101 0111111

The crowd quickly disperses around Kell, giving her a wide berth, though a few admiring glances are tossed her way between the leers by some clearly less scrupulous or less informed nobles.

After a few battles and duels, the announcer steps forward again.

"It's come to that special part of the evening, ladies and gentlemen, when the reigning champions step forth to accept any challengers! Can anyone defeat them? Can their years-long streak be ended? Are there any brave enough among you?"

As he speaks, the gate on the far end of the arena opens up and three people step out, a massive, burly man in canvas shorts with a wooden roundshield and a wooden club wrapped in metal bands, a smaller but still muscled and scarred man with a wicked looking spear and a belt of knives, and the woman Jakkal spoke with earlier, now wearing a billowing, blood and ichor stained canvas cloak, no weapon visible in her hands.

"The rules are simple! A fight to master's mercy with no armour, no firearms, and no regrets!"

[TechnoScrabble]

Jakkal sees the woman who bothered him earlier and his eyes narrow beneath his helmet.

"Lord-Captain, requesting permission to take Gutnob and Kell or an armsman down there and kick some ass? Might earn us a few thrones?"

His hand goes up to the clasps for his armour, ready to remove it quickly if he gets a yes.

[ChaoticSky]

Kell had been excited by the prospects of a arena... but was quickly disabused of her enthusiasm, this mud pit was far from the grand areas of the Dark City.... and its combatant were on similar quality, so she quickly grew bored, her attention wandering to the humans around her instead of the fights, as she idly considered skinning one of them for the benfit of his fellows.... you know, something to do to pass the time. Alas, she knew better, her patron was depressingly firm about her killing random people... especially if she did so creatively. Really, there wasnt even enough going on down there for a proper drink....

As luck would have it however, what the monkeigh lacked in quality, they made up for with glorious idiocy... but then, they would hardly have expected a Wych to be in the stands ahead of time would they?

So with more excitement than she would ever have admitted.. she was what she was, Kell simply vaulted the railing to drop down into the pit without waiting for orders. Landing on all fours to absorb the impact, she smoothly rose to her feet, and threw back her cloak to casually begin stripping out of her armour, without a hint of bashfulness. When she was done tossing aside the jagged sections of black armour she drew her Talons on, and palmed her Blacklight, before rising and shrugging her cloak back over her form. The garment's colouration scattered as the camoline in was activated, blending into the area around her until all that was visible was the white slash of her smile within the shadowed hood.

Kell raised her hands, slipping them from the cloak and crossing her arms in front of her chest so that each hand hovered in front of the far shoulder, and gave her fingers a flick... the velvet white powerfield, far more refined than any human could have managed, hummed into life around each bladed digit, "Whos first?" she asked... and yes, this time the sneer in her tone was genuine.


Failed jump test (if you even want me to make one)
Passed Catfall to negate damage
Failed Intimidation.
Linky (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?t=275843)

[MHerbert]

"What are you waiting for Jakkie, take them down. Gutnob, you go too." Lucius comments, smiling like a buffoon and as drunk as the proverbial skunk.
"I for one shall want... *hic*, to watch from a little bit closer." Lucius gathers his staff and bottle, and wanders, albeit slowly due to drink, down to where Kell was standing before vaulting the railing. Getting a couple of Armsmen to follow him down, and help him avoid falling over.
"Show these planet stuck gladiators how a real combatant fights boys and gals." Lucius shouts to his fellows in the arena. Before swigging from the bottle once more and handing it to a crewman, as he shouts and sets Arcturus loose to fly around the arena.

[TechnoScrabble]

A little bit of egging on from his mentor is all Jakkal needs. He quickly strips out of his armour and the fatigues he wears beneath it, making a quick bit of a show out of it for the nobles, and hands his hellgun to an armsman. Wearing his pendant, his boots, and a pair of long underpants, he grabs his monosword from his sash-now lying on his heap of discarded armour-and climbs deliberately down into the arena. He sends an MIU signal to Steel to have the bird fly around to the other part of the arena and watch Jakkal's blind spots.

"Fancy meeting you here," he says dryly to the woman from earlier.

[Vizzi]

Zor easily decodes the message without even a thought, it was with some amusement and perplexity that he sends his own sub-vox message back,


01001001 0100000 01110111 01101001 01101100 01101100 0100000 01110100 01110010 01100001 01101110 01110011 01101101 01101001 01110100 0100000 01110100 01101000 01101001 01110011 0100000 01101001 01101110 01100110 01101111 01110010 01101101 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 0100000 01110100 01101111 0100000 01110100 01101000 01100101 0100000 01010010 01101111 01100111 01110101 01100101 0100000 01010100 01110010 01100001 01100100 01100101 01110010 0101110 0100000 01000011 01101100 01100001 01110010 01101001 01100110 01101001 01100011 01100001 01110100 01101001 01101111 01101110 0100000 01010100 01101000 01100101 01110100 01100001 0101101 0110101 0110101 0110101 0111111

[positivespace]

Zor

01001110 01100101 01110111 01101100 01111001 0100000 01101001 01101110 01100100 01110101 01100011 01110100 01100101 01100100 0100000 01110100 01100101 01100011 01101000 0101101 01110000 01110010 01101001 01100101 01110011 01110100 0100000 01100110 01110010 01101111 01101101 0100000 01001100 01100001 01110100 01101000 01100101 0100000 01010111 01101111 01110010 01101100 01100100 01110011 0101110 0100000 01010011 01110100 01101001 01101100 01101100 0100000 01101101 01101111 01110011 01110100 01101100 01111001 0100000 01101111 01110010 01100111 01100001 01101110 01101001 01100011 0101110 0100000 01010011 01101000 01101111 01110111 01110011 0100000 01101001 01101110 01110100 01100101 01110010 01100101 01110011 01110100 0100000 01101001 01101110 0100000 01101010 01101111 01101001 01101110 01101001 01101110 01100111 0100000 01100011 01110010 01100101 01110111 0100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 0100000 01101001 01101110 01100100 01100101 01100110 01101001 01101110 01101001 01110100 01100101 0100000 01110100 01101001 01101101 01100101 0100000 01110000 01100101 01110010 01101001 01101111 01100100 0100000 01100110 01101111 01110010 0100000 01110011 01110100 01110101 01100100 01111001 0101110

Jakkal and Kell

The two of you (but mostly Kell) are eyed in a variety of ways by the audience, some of them impressed or admiring.

"And fancy meeting you, Bosun Jakkal. I hope your master can call the fight to an end before I kill you. It'd be a shame for your armsmen to be left uncontrolled."

[TechnoScrabble]

"I'm packing a monosword, what've you got? Your fists, a weedy sod with a primitive spear, and a retard with a stick?" Jakkal grins and spins his sword around in his hand, showing off, "I have to actually be careful to not gut you from twisp to twain. It'd be a shame, too. I'd hate to waste a body so perfectly suited to the job of shining my boots."

Jakkal adopts a fighting stance, keeping his sword moving in front of him, ready to parry.

[Vizzi]

01010000 01110010 01100101 01101100 01101001 01101101 01101001 01101110 01100001 01110010 01111001 0100000 01100001 01100011 01100011 01100101 01110000 01110100 01100101 01101110 01100011 01100101 0101110


Business mostly concluded he turns his attention towards the arena.