Rogue Trader: Debitum Phantasma - The Weaver's Locus

[blackouttwo]

"The Emperor has seen fit to grant us a ruin, and I'm hardly one to refuse a gift." -Rogue Trader Tauron Magnus, Lord-Captain of the Blood Money, upon the discovery of unidentified xenos ruins in the Unbeholden Reaches

"The Kasballica have been making inquiries among the docks and taverns in Footfall, seeking a crew with some discretion to undertake a voyage out into Winterscale’s Realm, possibly the Egarian Dominion. They're promising a significant stake in a vaguely-termed ‘operation’ to interested parties. Ever the quiet ones, aren't they? Prospective hires have been directed to the Kasballica Mission to discuss the details.

"Considering the Kasballica’s usual interests in the Cold Trade and the likely destination, it is almost certain that the voyage they plan to undertake involves the recovery of xenos artifacts of some kind. This is an opportunity the dynasty cannot afford to ignore. A better working relationship with the Kasballica and the promise of an opportunity to seize xenos relics for sale on the black market is simply too great to pass up when it rears its head, Miss Locke. With your permission, I can contact them to schedule a meeting with a senior representative." -Murat Karaic, House Maelius agent in Footfall, in a coded message to Maelius family Adjutant and Seneschal Symonne Locke

-------------
The port of Footfall.

An agglomeration of asteroids bathed in the glaring red light of the star of Furibundus, this port at the rimward end of the Koronus Passage is a filthy morass of vice, crime, and heresy. It is also the first stop for those entering the Koronus Expanse...and the last stop for those looking to leave. Furibundus's form, writhing as though immense beasts fight within, flares, its hate-filled light beating down on any and all travelers wandering within its grip. The outer envelope constantly tears and ripples, throwing off huge flaming masses into the near voids.

Traffic to the port is constant, and of dubious nature. One transport docks, only for another to leave. Two ships translate to Warpspace at the system's edge, only for two more to arrive from parts unknown. Many of these ships are openly pirate vessels returning from forays into the Maw or the civilized territories of the Calixis Sector, or the deeper Expanse; others are smugglers bound for Imperial space, their holds full of ill-gotten cargo and proscribed items. Shadowplay and intrigue in the port are common, back-alley killings frequent.

And the business and endeavors of Rogue Traders most certainly welcome.
-------------

2230 Hours, Debitum Phantasma Shipboard Time - 135.816.M41 - Inbound to port of Footfall (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YgiVXogbmDQ)
447.25 Hours out of Port Wander

http://img4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130403061942/warhammer40k/images/3/34/Footfall_approach.jpg



The shipboard intra-vox transmissions were an electronic chatter filling the corridors as the Debitum Phantasma began its final approach into the docks of Footfall. The bridge and enginarium were in a frenzy of activity, completely at odds with the relative peace and ease of the rest of the ship as the crew went about preparing to wrap up their duties and got ready for some well-deserved shore leave after navigating the Koronus Passage.

"Plasma drives cycling down to zero."

"Uh, copy Enginarium, this is maneuvering control. Firing aft thrusters at point-two-one strength, over."

"Affirmative, maneuvering. Helm, what's it looking like out there?"

"Approximately 2,000 kilometers out, closing. We're on-target for docking procedures. Maintain steady course."

"Affirmative, helm, maintaining course."

"No sign of trouble, I hope."

"Idiot. You're gonna jinx it."

"Besides, it's Footfall. There's always trouble."

"Cut the chatter, both of you. 1,500 kilometers and closing."
-------------

The crunch and clang of magnetic docking clamps locking the Debitum Phantasma into place immediately precedes the hiss of the airlock as it equalizes the interior pressure with the exterior atmosphere. The first scent to assault your sense of smell is that of the unclean masses of humanity, as the airlock slides open to reveal the docks of Footfall before you.

In the distance, neon lighting, signs, advertisements of all types, and the far-off light of Furibundus's star is mixed with the sight of countless scrap-constructions, stonework structures as far as the eye can see, and a dense, haphazard sight of countless buildings of both makes and anything inbetween jammed up against each-other in an urban nightmare that would make any hive-city of the Calixis Sector look like a well-planned pillar of urban development. Beyond the towering, haphazard structures, you can see chains and stonework tunnels tethering other asteroids together with the one upon which your ship has docked, all clustered around a statue of the God-Emperor of Man the size of a battleship in the center.

The chatter of countless sub-dialects of Low Gothic, uproarious laughter, a bar brawl somewhere off in the distance, periodic gunshots from some turf war or other among the port's various power groups, and music (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=DpumhuqtlL4) all simultaneously greet your ears as you step off the ship and into the docks. Armsman Dufrane checks the safety on his combat shotgun as he and Armsman Harkin stride out of the airlock first, and he's the first to speak as you all take in the sights, sounds, and smells of the port.

"Welcome to Footfall, sirs and ladies. Please keep your hands and feet inside the ride at all times."

[Shadowcaller]

One of the last ones out of the arlock, holding herself in the background, is Shas'ka. The xeno is dressed in her combat armor (http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130719233502/warhammer40k/images/1/1e/Farsight_Enclave_Fire_Warriors.jpg) and is already geared up with all the strange weapons in her arsenal. The pulse rifle held at the ready as she scans the area with her gaze, her face completely hidden by the visor-less helmet. The armor might also havehid her in-humanness if not for her feet which looked more like hooves than human feet and the alien design of it.

Next to Shas'ka, the drone she simply called "Bork" hoovered. Equipped with a long-range pulse weapon and mechanical sensors that served as her second set of eyes, the device was one of her most valuable assets and the only thing that had survived on the surface of Ravacene besides herself.

The tau and the drone already looked ready for a fight, the strange flashing lights and the sounds making her weary. But she couldn't slow down, she had to enter this like a fish enters water. Just keep diving until you had fully embraced it and never look back. So she continues forward with the rest of the group even if this flashy and loud Gue'la settlements almost made her nauseous. It was one of the worst one she had seen so far, and that was saying something.

Still, this should be nothing new after all she had gone through. But she had recently been starting to enjoy the relative quiet and peace of having a room of her own and now she was thrust into reality once, with all it's dangers and sounds washing over her like the inevitable tide after the ebb. Perhaps her time at the Gue'la vessel dulled her instincts somewhat, the lack of other of her people had made it somehow harder to keep up her strict discipline.

Shas'ka looks unable linger her gaze on anything here for too long with new sensations being thrown at her from every direction. Finally she looked at the one called Maelius, the commander, her new commander, for potential instructions. Though instructions from anyone would do, she felt like she was being thrown into first combat once again here. She needed some orders.

[Slii Arhem]

Though Naithin, still known to the Tau and the Navigator as Mr. Blank as a transparent refusal to reveal his true last name, put up a resistance when it was revealed that their potential dealings with the Kasballica would likely involve the skin trade, Symonne would recognize it as being token and minimal, as she knows him best. He's well aware of the realities of being an Explorator at the whims of a rogue trader, and is playing his expected part without acting the obvious heretek.

Though he doesn't relish the opportunity to work on xenotech the way some of the old, strange ones of the disciples of Mars who have trekked this space before did, the chance shall not be wasted and he is certainly the only one he would trust aboard the ship with the responsibility. All too likely that a less precise, sharp mind would go corrupt by the temptation that the blasphemous technology presents.

And so he steps heavily from the airlock, preceded by his servo-skull which flies high overhead and acts as his eyes, scanning always for opportunities and danger around. He's fully armed, carrying his precious Zepherus cradled in the crook of one arm, and having his much more standard boltgun attached to its weapon mounting and interface on a swivel, menacingly tracking the crowded spacedock based on the data fed to him by his servo-skull. His power axe is clipped and holstered, a more ceremonial weapon than his preferred armament, but one that has seen slight use in a pinch nonetheless.

He mentally commands the skull down through the MIU uplink, withdrawing his combitool and adjusting its built in auspex carefully to get a more precise reading on the immediate surroundings. He rarely bothers to look up himself, when the skull can do his seeing for him, unless it's time for him to shoot.

He calibrates it to scan for the number of bio signs and any types of harmful radiation or gas that could be within fifty meters of them, curious as to the first impression of Footfall that his borrowed, enhanced senses can provide.

"Symonne, I would be grateful if you could look for any Krytron Plasma devices. If you could secure a steady supply, it would make my main duties as an explorator aboard this ship safer and more reliably carried out." Only she and the Lord Captain knew what his prime duties truly entailed, though the Astropath sister may have prized it out of her poncy trader of a brother. More than just techpriest duties, Naithin prides himself in his ability and enthusiasm in the field of overwhelming concussive force exultations and their glorious application in the name of the Emperor.

[happyturtle]

The arrival has left Symonne tense, as all involved space manoeuvres did. Even though a shipwreck here would not result in being stranded for months, her fear centres did not seem to believe that. The Lord-Captain hadn't noticed this particular weakness of hers. She hoped he never would.

Her first action on arrival is to send a message to their contact:

"The Lord-Captain is in agreement. Please schedule the meeting." -Adjutant Symonne Locke, encoded reply to Murat Karaic, House Maelius agent in Footf1all.

Her second is to meet Naithan at the airlock. This is their first stop since she'd pulled the necessary strings to get him aboard. Such strings involved putting an employment contract in the middle of a stack of documents requiring the Lord-Captain's signature, then handing them to him while he was drunk. It was likely - even probable - that Timmaeus would have made no objection. But despite Naithan's clear qualifications, Symonne would take no chances with Naithan's future. Timmaeus was impulsive and untrustworty, and perhaps had already settled on another family member or xeno for the job. Or someone he was trying to charm into his bed. There was a story about an underqualified tech-priest who had been hired solely because of her shapely ass.

At any rate, it is a pleasure now to step onto a new world, reunited with an old friend, after more than a decade apart. "Certainly, Magos Blank," Symonne says*.

Her own Babel servo-skull floats with her, but just below shoulder level to avoid attention. No sense having it shot at for fear that it has offensive capability. Like the others, Symonne is armed and armoured - xeno-mesh armour under her robes, with her Inferno Pistol at her waist and her Boltgun slung over her back. She deplores having to carry so much weaponry on her person, but it would be foolish not to be prepared for violence.

Naithan might be struck by how much Salley/Symonne has grown to resemble her mother, Tesa. Though she had years since leaving Haddrack in which her meals were both regular and adequate - both of which were welcome - the months in the Savior Pod had clawed back that gain, leaving her still looking somewhat emaciated. And that haunted expression in her eyes - surely that looked more like Tesa than the irrepressible Salley.

Though perhaps he won't see the resemblance. Symonne is dressed like a woman of affluence, her hands are steady, and her eyes unclouded by drugs or amasec.

"How do you find your facilities?" Symonne asks.

http://i431.photobucket.com/albums/qq40/happyturtle-avs/abf7abc4eb616f1b11d78b86b910187a.jpg


Notes:
1. HT needs to know what a Krytron Plasma Device is.
2. Blackouttwo, can you add a link to the OOC thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?375739-OOC-RT-Adventures-of-the-Debitum-Phantasma-Closed) to the OP?

Debitum Phantasma (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1zUR73ua3gQDsKUPzw_cduH3nCl_Tj_O8HRuDCgD7CJo/edit)

Lord Captain Timaeus Maelius (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1K4VFOGq6Qa-JyINcq0BOIn5pRr-ZJR-MBmvqA_3h5Bg/pub) - Magtok
Seneschal Symonne Locke (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1UaMQANvJ2btu_juUkOzChILnYCUSkxuIeI-9_DxT1Zo/edit?usp=sharing) - Happyturtle
Explorator Naithan Locke (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1suYr0-gXdadNMul0AKnmbbnAIdgjdSZhE9lX0E1YjZg/edit) - Slii Arhem
Witness Shera Maelius (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18223101&postcount=5) - Wolfbane
Tau Fire Warrior Shas'ka (https://docs.google.com/document/d/1um71uOUZJhU4175331xqekA8pRfLiGUTlaoi9qvPqkw/edit) - Shadowcaller
Navigator Sola of House Grandvin (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showsinglepost.php?p=18229095&postcount=9) - Halae

[UncleWolf]

The next out of the Airlock is the crew's Abnormally Large Pug. The fawn-furred dog barks and yowls happily before turning around to yap at his owner, encouraging her to come on out. When she does, the Astropath has to suppress a shudder. "Do we have to get off the ship?" She asks wearily, shaking her head. "Don't like cities even if I like the fresh air."

Shera Maelius, despite being the Captain's younger sister, is hard to recognize her as such. She's quite short, not even 5ft tall, with skin so pale it could be translucent and braided hip-length hair that has turned gray from both stress and the horrors she's endured. Perhaps most disturbingly is that instead of a normal face, half of it has been replaced by a steel plate fused to her flesh. The stainless steel covers her forehead and eyes, moving around her nose before covering part of her cheeks. The steel is completely unadorned, making it hard to focus on any part of her face that it obscures. Despite all sense pointing otherwise, her sight seems to remain good enough for her to be able to walk freely and even read when she wishes.

Currently she's dressed in slim green and purple robes, having chosen to go unarmored for now. She's far from a complete idiot though and is still armed with her stub-auto on her right thigh. Her main weapon, her mind, is always at the ready however.

Despite her misgivings about getting off the ship, the woman is obviously willing to do so, even going so far as to smiling slightly as she stretches her legs. "Oh well, there are always worse stops and at least here we're supposed to be fairly safe. Just warn me if you see one of my colleagues roaming about. Such encounters are not likely to end favorably."

[Lord Magtok]

"You needn't worry yourself, sister. Footfall hasn't had fresh air since the galaxy was young, and our beloved Saint Drusus's litanies of hatred consisted solely of 'goo goo, ba ba, burn the heretic.'" Timaeus jovially remarks, striding out of the vessel with his usual cocksure attitude and self-important smirk. Always best that people know a Rogue Trader when they see one, and Timaeus wasn't about to let untold ages of history down by not playing the role, of course. That he had a hangover roughly the size of that statue of the Emperor he was currently bowing to for luck...well, these things happen, and you can't let them get in the way of a job done right.

"Before we go to work, perhaps a reminder of our circumstances are in order, cogboys and girls. And xenos, of course. We are, ahem, presently on Footfall, and as with all ports, watch for cutpurses and thieves. You have your own salaries and wages, and are free to spend them, time permitting, but none go back to the ship less valuable than they came off of it. We don't set anything or anyone on fire unless it is absolutely necessary, to be determined at your discretion, and we add nobody to the crew unless they are of obvious and immediate utility."

"Adjutant Locke, you-" the Lord Captain starts, in a tone that suggests that she's been deemed the individual most likely to make such changes to the crew list.

"-and I already know all there is to know of these Kasballica Mission individuals we will be meeting with, but if you would be so kind as to inform the rest of the team what to expect from our upcoming meeting?" It's phrased as a humble request, but is most certainly anything but. Of course, that bit about already knowing about the Kasballicas is complete hogwash, too. Up until just a few weeks ago, the Lord Captain assumed the Cold Trade was the exchange of illegal cryogenic technology; there's no way he knows half as much as he says.

[Halae]

Sola, the ships navigator, remains silent as she steps down onto footfall. She's an average height woman with a wiry build hidden by her voluminous blue robes, which mark her out as a navigator if her mutations didn't. She wears her mesh armor underneath, just in case - a long sleeved black shirt that one can only see the wrists of with the robe on. She keeps her hood up, partially obscuring her face, as a simple courtesy to those that don't really wish to look at her warp eye. She has it closed, but she knows she can be offputting to some. She has left the silk scarf off of her eye, however, just in case she needs to utilize it. At her belt is a pistol, and one that Naithin has probably attempted to tinker with in the past; an archeotech laspistol, a family heirloom.

Sola herself has pale skin and a crooked grin. Unsettling, however, is that her teeth are sharpened like needles, though that appears to be a mutation rather than intentional change. Even worse, her eyes are pitch black, seeming to lack an iris or sclera; one could imagine the warp eye to be the same, if not for the fact that looking into it causes you to see the warp instead.

Being led by a chain in her left hand is her 'dog'. Brutus is, quite simply, monstrous. A creature covered in shaggy gray fure, it's essentially a tightly wound bundle of muscle, teeth, and anger that could intimidate a squig. For all that he seems tense, however, his mistress' hand seems to sooth him, and he doesn't lash out any anyone if they don't get too close. Of course, as a war hound, he'd be the first into combat were it to happen, but still.

Sola's reasoning for coming off the ship was simple; she just wants to stretch her legs, and take Brutus for a walk outside of the corridors of the ship. So, for now, she's following the others rather than going anywhere herself.

[blackouttwo]

Armsman Harkin spits on the ground. "Well, long as we're not waiting 'round here, I don't care much about no business, Cap'n. Hate the smell of this place already. Let's do what we came for and be done with it, yeah?"

"Oi." Dufrane glares at Harkin, his Footfall-scummer accent coming to the fore immediately. He's always tried to suppress the accent for the sake of dealing with the rest of the crew, and he doesn't much care for slights against his birthplace. "Footfall smells, but she patches up our boat just fine and the food's to die for. You shut your mouth, Harkin."

Harkin grunts. "Aye, Dufrane."

"Miss Locke, if you'd be so kind?" The slighted security trooper hoists his shotgun, keeping it aimed upward in case 'something' gives him an itchy trigger finger in an unwarranted way. On a nearby landing pad, a bulk cargo lifter takes off, carrying a hold full of cargo, and the bustle of the port docks proceeds without interruption or incident. This is not a place that cares for the likes of those who come here, and it's beginning to show.

CL Underworld: The Kasballica is a well-known alliance and shadow-conclave of prominent crime lords and illegal syndicates along the Drusus Marches with significant interests in the wider Koronus Expanse and Calixis Sector. The Cold Trade, the business of dealing in xenos artifacts and technology, is their primary business, with artifacts and materials from the dead worlds of the Egarian Dominion being a particular specialty. Their influence spreads from the Koronus Passage to run throughout the neighboring Calixis Sector, with buyers and dealers on countless worlds and outposts, including among the nobility of the Calixis Sector capital world of Scintilla. The Kasballica send trusted agents and representatives into the Expanse and to their base of operations in Footfall, the Kasballica Mission.

They do this to cultivate dealings with Rogue Traders heading into the Expanse, and attempt to purchase any alien artifacts or technologies Rogue Traders might come across, offering to handle the distribution of the artifacts to buyers and end-users in the Calixis Sector in exchange for a (usually significant) cut of any proceeds from the sales. The Kasballica Mission in Footfall consists of skilled negotiators, ruthless enforcers, and merchants of countless forbidden goods and services. If the price is right they can provide, purchase, or arrange transport for almost anything.

Their private army usually consists of well-trained and well-equipped professional mercenaries, including ex-Imperial Guard veterans and former Stormtroopers with high-end equipment, and their negotiators command a high price for deigning to do business with any Rogue Traders that come to bargain with them. While most arrangements are beneficial, it's a safe bet that the Kasballica will demand a large slice of the pie, but the price for attempting to work around them may be higher due to the risks of attempting to sell xenotech in the Calixis Sector through one's own network of contacts, and the possibility of the Kasballica 'taking offense' at trying to circumvent them - at least in Footfall. They're not omniscient by any means, but overall profit and risk at the end of any dealings in the Cold Trade are almost universally a better option if they're being done through the Kasballica Mission.

To that end, the Kasballica Mission sponsors a number of xeno-archaeological expeditions, and offers work to Rogue Traders to transport, lead and defend any expeditionary personnel heading into the Expanse for this purpose. Their representative on Footfall is a man by the name of Vladaym Tocara, and by all accounts, he's a humorless, perpetually grim and unhappy man with a no-nonsense mentality.

Awareness: The crowd seems to be a motley collection of longshoremen, assorted scum, labor-servitors, armed guards, mercenaries, and personnel from various docked vessels on shore leave or business of some kind. The smell is disgusting, and the sights common to any major port. Beyond the usual of packing and unpacking crates, and one or more lifting cargo shuttles in the distance, there doesn't seem to be much of note here.

Awareness: The crowd before you is the usual, and you saw it countless times in your days as an Explorator. Albeit with far more machine-like precision and coordination. The loading and unloading of provisions and munitions, the scent of sacred machine-oils applied to the sound of launching spacecraft, the thunder and rumble of massive plasma drives in the distance as countless ships launch for parts unknown or dock for repairs after a battle in the darkness of the void. The armaments you see among the crowd are almost universally battered, ill-cared for, and almost certainly malfunctioning in minor ways. The machine spirits in this place, one and all, cry out for aid, and you are in no place to help them.

Tech-Use: [SCANNING SYSTEMS ENGAGED]

[AVE OMNISSIAH]

[SCANNING...PLEASE WAIT...]

[NO HAZARDOUS MATERIALS; BACKGROUND RADIATION AT ACCEPTABLE LEVELS - BIO-SIGNS DETECTED - APPROXIMATELY 10,000+ BIO-SIGNS DETECTED, PREDOMINANTLY HUMAN - SMALL COLLECTION OF BEASTS AT FAR END OF OUTER PERIMETER, WEST]

[SCANS INDICATE LARGE NUMBERS OF PERSONAL WEAPONRY AMONG LOCAL POPULATION; NONE ACTIVE AT THIS TIME]

[ADVISE CAUTION]

Awareness: The masses of humanity before you seem to mostly be going about their business; nobody's paid the new arrivals any heed. A Halo Barge launches from a nearby landing pad, its hold laden with what looks like crates full of hastily-packed weaponry. Assault lasguns bound for some warzone further into the Koronus Expanse, most likely. There doesn't seem to be any kind of immediate danger, but Footfall is prone to bursts of sudden violence. Proceeding cautiously would be wise.

Pug Awareness: *snortsnortsnort* There's THINGS and SMELLS and PEOPLE, LOTS OF PEOPLE, LOTS OF PEOPLE, some of the people have GUNS and KNIVES and SWORDS and SMELL FUNNY. LOTS OF FUNNY SMELLS- FOOD. FOOD. FOOD. FOOD. FOOD.

Awareness: The crowd is full of human men and women of varying shapes and sizes openly wearing weapons and battle-scars of countless varieties. The neon signs assault your senses, the music off in the distance is strange and hard on your hearing even through the noises of the crowd, and everything carries an inherent sense of anarchy. There's no true unity here - you can smell it in the air. Only paranoia, wariness, and itchy trigger fingers, many of them replacements warranted by injury and battle-damage, most likely from among their peers and fellows.

The only thing you see and hear is one simple fact: You're a long way from home. And on some level, you are alone.

Drone Awareness: [PROCESSING...TARGET PRIORITIZATION COMPLETE]

[MULTIPLE WEAPONS, CLOSE-ASSAULT WEAPON, CONCEALED, DESIGNATION 'CHAIN KNIFE' - DIRECTED ENERGY RIFLE, DESIGNATION 'LASCARBINE' - DIRECTED ENERGY SIDEARM, DESIGNATION 'LASPISTOL' - SOLID-PROJECTILE SIDEARM, DESIGNATION 'STUB-AUTO' - 'STUB-REVOLVER' - SOLID-PROJECTILE CLOSE-ASSAULT SYSTEM, DESIGNATION 'COMBAT SHOTGUN']

[ALARM]

[MULTIPLE DETECTED WEAPONS OF VARYING UNIDENTIFIED CLASSES - SENSORS INDICATE COMMONALITIES OF- PROCESSING]

[PROCESSING]

[PROCESSING]

[NO WEAPONS IN IMMEDIATE VICINITY ARE ACTIVE OR READY TO FIRE]

[PERIMETER SECURE; ADVISE CAUTION]

Awareness: Even in a hive, you never saw quite this much activity. And even the underhive didn't smell so terrible. The noise and bustle of the port is unusual to your ears; the underhive was always more quiet, until the gangs started fighting, as a result of the countless denizens trying to stay out of sight, whether for the purposes of hunting or hiding. The shriek of a hunting beast at the far end of the chamber reaches your ears, and you realize this is but the first of alien suns under which you will stride as a Navigator. For some reason, that fact gives you some sense of satisfaction. This is the sort of place you were meant to come to, one day.

Psyniscience: Your psychic senses give you a sight of a constant haze, stretching from one end of the docking chamber to the other. The life-auras of the countless people in this room overlap, swirl, and make it nigh-impossible for you to pick out anyone of note. If there are psykers in the room, you can't see them, but the enormity of this port hits you like a ton of rockcrete.

Brutus: Grrrrrrrrrr. People.

[UncleWolf]

"Perhaps, brother, but I still insist that we do not stay long. Places like this only bear ill-tidings for honest people like us." Shera explains with a wry smile before reaching down to pet her dog. "We'll find food soon, promise." She swears to him before looking around at the others. "Give me a few moments to try and see if there are any prying eyes." Shera suggests as she steps forward in front of everyone. Unless stopped from doing so, she reaches out with her mind in an attempt to sense any psyker presences around her.

As she concentrates, everyone around her will see thin copper lines begin to form on her faceplate, spreading into a highly detailed version of her true face. The eyes even move and dart around as she looks about her and the lines forming her brow furrow in concentration.

[Shadowcaller]

Shas'ka stares at the information coming up on her helmets screen and then at her commander as he talks. Now more than anything else all these Gue'la felt like strangers to her. Here in her suit she was somehow separated from them at much more than a mere physical level. Which brought both a feeling of safety, but also loneliness.
The as always the best way to fight this was to focus on her duties. She steps forward towards Timaeus, taking a deep breath as she braces herself to try to communicate in their language. Repeating the words over and over in her head as she walked until she was sure she was able to put them right. She takes the opportunity when Shera scans the area to ask her question.

"Commander, do you... have any special orders for me?" She asked, hoping she wasn't making a fool of herself again. A warrior was generally supposed to know what to do without having to ask.

[Slii Arhem]

[AVE OMNISSIAH] Naithin responds through the MIU uplink before letting go of the servoskull and allowing it to wheel upwards and resume its scouting.

"There are inhuman beasts to the west, fifty meters out, may be slaves, pets, or beasts of war. May simply be cattle. I am not particularly interested in finding out which." But it bears saying, in case their presence was of interest to the rest of the landing party. Naithin lets the others assume that anything else he didn't mention wasn't worth mentioning.

[happyturtle]

"The Kasballica Mission is a confederacy of underworld syndicates-" Symonne doesn't say the word 'crime'. To her, it's only crime if you get caught. "-who control the Cold Trade in the Koronus Passage and Calixis Sector. Buying, selling, archeo-expeditions, you name it. They'll expect to be involved and to take their cut. To enforce this, they have a well-equipped mercenary army, many of them ex-Imperial Guard and former Stormtroopers. Basically, you do not **** with them. Their mission in Footfall is headed by a man named Vladaym Tocara, who is a serious, no-nonsense person. They often seek out Rogue Traders to work with, and it'd be in our interest to create a cordial working relationship with them, both for its own sake, but also to put us in a position to out-manoeuvre our rivals."

"Our contact is arranging an appointment with the Mission. I recommend the meeting be limited to the Lord-Captain, myself, and the Magos, along with Harkin and Dufrane as an honour guard. No need to force the rest of you to undergo the tedium of trading negotiations, and you can enjoy some much needed r&r. Incidentally, Dufrane, I'd be delighted to learn where Footfall's best food might be found-my treat, of course."

Symonne hopes her gambit works - changing the subject immediately after her suggestion that the most misfit members of their group be left behind. She can trust Naithan to advise her properly on the technical aspect of the deal, and the Lord-Captain, for all his faults, is at least highly personable when he chooses to be and isn't completely wasted.

[Halae]

Symonne will get a knowing look from Sola, perceptive as the navigator is. Sola could say something about having a navigator present can warn the group of potential warp mishaps and areas where warp storms are likely to occur, but she doesn't. Symonne's an intelligent woman, and has likely already considered that particular aspect of this agreement. Further, Sola is a bit overwhelmed by the situation here - she's used to the sparsely populated underhive of Hive Sarvin where she was raised, and ships, not open air markets. This place is new and interesting to her, and while Brutus isn't particularly happy with going into crowds of people, he's also a loyal creature at heart, and will stay by Sola's side through thick and thin.

So, while she could bring up a valid point for her to attend, Sola just nods in affirmation. Rather than sitting in on a trade agreement, she can examine the local shops, perhaps buy something for her fuzzy mutt. She's also never been comfortable with official meetings, feeling much more at home plying the warp or in the combat she learned against other kids in the hive. Strong, fast, and clever she may be, but she knows she's no speaker, and the obvious mutations she bears don't help.

"I'm going to shop around a bit, maybe get a meal for myself and treats for Brutus. If you need me, I have my comm-bead." she says, and without further ado, intends to walk off. someone could either stop her or join her easily enough. Her intention is mostly to browse; there's nothing in particular she really wants, per se, but certainly there's things she could use, even if it's just for her own vanity. Maybe a dress...

[Lord Magtok]

"I'm afraid Symonne's right," Timaeus pauses, unsure whether to follow that with 'Xenos', 'Shas'ka', or some crude and insulting nickname invented on the spot. Both his sister and Symonne are present, after all. One would frown very strongly on displaying anything but righteous fury towards the alien, and the other considers the xenos a friend. One has reputedly murdered his uncle, and the other is an astropath who could call mom and tell her of some of the habits he's acquired since leaving home for the great expanses of space.

"-Shas'ka. No place for a Tau at the negotiation table. They'd see you as a commodity; insist on making you a security deposit, or something along those lines. Shera and the Navigator could use an escort, however. A large firearm might dissuade any unscrupulous ruffians that would dare take advantage of innocent maidens wandering strange markets and unfamiliar streets.

Or it might not. I'm putting them in your care regardless," the Lord Captain says with a smile, patting the Tau girl's helmet. More likely than not, anyone who dared trouble either Shera or Sola would wind up brutalized to the warp and back by their respective powers, and if they were left alive, the encounter with those 'innocent maidens' would haunt them for the rest of their days. Still, let the xenos think she's being given a big responsibility. It's good to let people think you trust them; they're more likely to trust you when you do so.

"Everyone keep your comm-beads open. We'll meet back at the ship when business is adjourned, provided everything goes well. Emperor bless," he says, with a sort of lazy half-salute, before gathering up his team to go attend that meeting.

[Shadowcaller]

Shas'ka doesn't move an inch as Timaeus pats her helmet. She wasn't sure what it meant, but she was pretty sure he never done anything like that with the other Gue'la. It was probably a humiliating gesture of some kind, but why? Was it simply this human empire's general distrust of anything other than their own kin or something else? Nothing could be gained from going these things over in her head though. She had to focus.

"Rodger that Commander." The fire warrior steps back and then turns to her new charges. Ready to go wherever they might lead.

[blackouttwo]

Dufrane watches the Navigator as she and the Tau leave, her familiar at her side, and he shakes his head, turning to look at the rest of you. "Leaving the alien to guard two of the most important people on the ship strikes me as a bad move, sir, but I can't argue against it. The Tau can at least shoot straight."

Harkin just snorts. "I'm more worried for anyone who decides to tangle with a Navigator and an Astropath. Or those little...animals they keep with them. Never sat easy with me, those things. Not one bit." The fact that Brutus is almost certainly touched by the Ruinous Powers and the astropath's pug has a track record of telekinetic activity probably doesn't help. "They'll be fine, Dufrane, mark my words."

Dufrane shrugs. "Long as they come back alive, I don't much mind what happens. We're dead in the water if we lose our Navigator, and losin' the astropath would be inconvenient, after all. Let's get moving. The Kasballica rep's probably expectin' us. The Mission isn't hard to find; I'll take point." With that, the armsman takes the lead through the crowd. Seeing the nature of the individuals with him, and their fine clothing and weaponry, the crowd seems to part, most not wanting to risk crossing a Rogue Trader. Others take no notice at all and go on about their business, nevertheless out of the way. The armsman leads the way to what appears to be a small collection of battered skimmer-taxis sitting at the far end of the docks, looking to pick up passengers, and waves to one of the drivers. "Oi, mate!"

Psyniscience: The general psychic 'background noise' of the dock is intense, with plenty of life-signs and the general feeling of countless people merely going about their business. There's no more noticeable tension than one might find in a hive-city as part of the day-to-day, and nothing seems to leap out at you as especially suspicious here. No other psykers, no daemons, and no ongoing phenomena or recent disturbances. As far as psychic activity goes, you're not sensing anything unusual.

[Slii Arhem]

Naithin hangs back as the other four head on, momentarily debating the merits of arguing his position in the negotiations. He's well aware that he's a hard man to like, abrasive and direct at the best of times, but it seems his expertise is needed.

He'll open a channel on his comm bead directly to the Tau, though, subvocalizing into it with careful modulation of his vox unit, *ksht*I would make you aware, Shas'ka of the Tau, I think our Lord Captain has taken a liking to you. *ksht* Let her puzzle out whether he's joking or not. Assuming she's even aware that humans are capable of such jocularity, let alone in such an even, low monotone.

Meanwhile, the servo-skull will hover up ahead, matching pace with Dufrane and hovering just behind his shoulder, carefully within his peripheral vision. The harsh tones of Magos Blank issue forth from it, "You had best hope they come back not only alive, but pristine armsman. I would mind very much anything happening to them that could foster contempt to the crew or our Lord Captain, and make them unlikely to do their very vital jobs. The flesh of men is weak, and the flesh of a mind can hide many scars." Something he is unlikely to ever forget, with what he's seen done to people of the Imperium in the guise of progress, and the reactions of their relatives when the truth and horror was unveiled.

So if he must give the armsmen a harsh reminder of the realities of dealing with the Warp, then so be it. He can afford to be ill-thought-of in the stead of the absent members of the landing party.

[UncleWolf]

The Freaks

"We're safe to continue. No prying minds." Shera says as the facial expressions on her fade back to the normal brushed steel. As the others head off, she gives a sigh and reaches down to pat her dog's head. "Go with them. Protect." She commands before letting him go with a bark. Symonne will see that the pug sticks right next to her, having marked her out as the weakest of those heading towards the meeting.

She turns to walk along with the Navigator and Tau for a bit before giving another sigh. "And here I thought being a Navigator or Astropath garnered a measure of respect. If they didn't want us along because of what we are, they should at least be up front about it." She adds bitterly before looking up at the Tau. "Thank you for coming with us. There is nothing in particular we're looking for except possibly some charts, so if there is anything you'd desire, simply speak up."

[Halae]

The Weirdos

"I was going to speak with her about it when we got back to the ship. I won't deny her logic on the matter, but I won't sit on my hands about this. You might have more clout, given your the Captain's sister, but one of us should do it," Sola shrugs, stepping in the direction of the markets. She looks around everywhere, taking in the sights like a tourist that knows how not to gawk. She passes through crowds with practiced ease, however, and may at some points leave the other behind, only to wait for them a little ways away.

"What should we look for? I was thinking I might want to get some more clothes, try out some local food. Maybe freak out some locals when a trio of women that are obviously unusual walk into their shop," She smiles. It had always been fun as a mutant kid to go with the other mutant children to a higher up hive layer to scare shopkeepers, "You know, enjoy the day."

[Shadowcaller]

The Unusual's

The fire warrior instinctively stopped as she heard her comm-link go on, listening closely for potential orders. What she got was something quite else.
She recognized the voice of the yet-to-be-named earth caste Gue'la on-board the vessel that just had left with the other group. While he was obviously very intelligent and ingenious to be able to serve so close to the Commander, she hadn't thought about him much until just now.

She isn't sure how to reply to that, if it was another web of Gue'la interaction she yet had to understand. "Hold a moment." Shas'ka replies into the comm, not even sure if he still heard her or not. Others were talking to her after all, causing her once again to search for words.
"Umm... I don't think I need anything Or'es Shera. I'm here to escort you and Sola, nothing else." She nods respectfully at the two ladies. "I will follow wherever you lead." She had to ask Or'es Shera what a pat on the head meant later though, Mr. Blanks word had made her reconsider the gesture. Had the Commander really come to respect her?

[Lord Magtok]

The First of Many Exploits of the Fearless, Gallant, Honorable Lord Captain Timaeus Maelius, and A Somewhat Forgettable Entourage Hardly Worth Mentioning Here

Oops, forgot to describe what our Lord Captain actually looks like. You'll have to forgive me, folks. I've been writing that same robot man day after day after day, I forgot that characters sometimes need actual physical descriptions. Hahaha, so used to playing someone so iconic that nobody ever bothers asking what he looks like, y'know? #shamelesshumblebrag

Anyways, Timaeus Maelius, the hungover hero of our sorry story. I suppose the first thing that would jump at you as unusual is how thin he is. I mean, not to an unhealthy extreme, but aren't Rogue Traders generally larger gentlemen? Not obese (although that in itself is quite common too, with their massive feasts and endless hedonism), but massive, herculean characters with barrel chests and limbs like well-muscled tree trunks. A Rogue Trader is supposed to be an imposing, devastating figure, who towers over the impoverished masses with his noble physique. The sort of man who can accurately fires a massive boltgun with one hand behind his back, and hardly needs a Power Fist at all to shatter ork jaws and beat full-grown Carnifexes into submission.

No, instead Timaeus Maelius barely has any shoulders at all, nothing at all that you could put an decently sized set of pauldrons on. He's a slender fellow, more of a branch or a twig than the aforementioned tree trunk, with what might have been a slate blue naval officer's uniform stretched thin over his lanky frame and barely concealed carapace armor armor, lightly decorated with three or four purity seals and the sigil of his kind (http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20140526181558/warhammer40k/images/a/a4/Rogue_Trader_Icon2.jpg), overlain with a suitably ostentatious and violet greatcoat, left hanging open and concealing Throne only knows what in its sleeves and within its pockets. He wears no extravagant hat over his shortly cropped mess of brown hair, no monocle over his pale blue eyes, and his pale, youthful complexion (What is he, thirty-something? Really? There's no way he's left his twenties, not unless he started rejuvenant treatments exceptionally early) and prominent cheekbones bear not even the slightest touch of bronze or iron augmentations. In short, he may very well be a legend in the making, but if so, with very much emphasis on the 'in the making' part, and not so much on the legend.

"Ugh, have you no guile in your heart, Dufrane? No duplicity? The alien isn't guarding the girls, armsman. The girls are watching the alien. She was craving purpose, and I provided. Social interactions with a superior species will do her good, far more than wasting away in the gilded cage that is her ship quarters. Besides, with the girls present, we need not worry about the xenos being poached out from under us by some enterprising street ganger wishing to curry favor with the Kasballica, do we? No, we need only sound sufficiently apologetic when we arrive to find a small hill of shattered, disembodied skulls, where any number of lowborn brutes had once stood." Timaeus explains, more than confident that his sister can handle herself without the other half of the team present. Or maybe he's just saying that because the psychic pug is walking alongside them and Shera can hear every word, I'm not sure.

[happyturtle]

"Lord Captain, may I remind you not to accept the first deal they offer." Symonne says to Timaeus. She pays no attention to the pug at her feet, nor spares any worry about how the other women on the ship feel about her excluding them from the negotiation. To her, it was merely good sense to avoid complicating any potential negotiations by leaving out unqualified crew members. Whether she is judging them unfairly isn't a question that occurs to her. She is a product of her culture, and such notions as equal rights and respect for diversity are not ideas she's ever encountered.

Besides, that mutant really disgusts/terrifies her.

[blackouttwo]

"All due respect Cap'n, Magos? Long as it's not my job to take the lasround, I don't much care. OI!"

Dufrane waves a hand as the captain prattles on about psykers protecting the Tau and such, before returning his attention to the taxi driver once more as he continued to lead the way through the crowd. Waving and jumping up and down to get his attention, Dufrane yelled a bit more loudly. "OI, MATE!" That seems to get the driver's attention, and the short, elderly man with a shaved head and more wrinkles than a filthy bedsheet turns his head to look in Dufrane's - and your - general direction. "FIVE PASSENGERS, ONE PET, ONE SERVO-SKULL! GIVE US A RIDE, YEAH?!"

The driver seems to hear that and turns to climb into his skimmer-taxi, warming up the engines and thrusters immediately. As you finally approach, the skimmer distinctly reeks of cheap rotgut booze and lho-stick smoke. The driver opens a small glovebox and pulls out a pack of said lho-sticks, not a brand any of you recognize, before tossing it into the backseat, apparently for all of you to share.

"Where to?"

Dufrane grunts as he slides into the back window seat, shotgun resting in his lap. "Kasballica Mission."

The skimmer's engines pitch up to a shrill whine as the rest of you pile in, and takes off, soaring into the scrap-filled agglomeration of Footfall.

-------
2245 Hours, Footfall Local Time - 135.816.M41 - Kasballica Mission (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1_XliZzujE4)

The Kasballica Mission at first seems unassuming, aside from the heavy fortifications and the fact that it's a veritable fortress compared to many of the surrounding structures amidst Footfall's vast urban decay. The skimmer-taxi pulls up out in front, being tracked by numerous heavy-bolter turrets. The structure itself is imposing, vast stone fortifications carved out of the asteroid's rock, and towering, well-crafted metal gates almost certainly made of the kind of materials used to make starship hulls. The fortifications and gates are completely bare of any sort of insignia or mark of ownership, but it's not hard to see the wealth and influence behind the extensive armaments of the dozens of mercenary guards atop its battlements.

As your skimmer touches down, three guards approach, two bearing hellguns and their connected backpack power-capacitors, the last armed with what seems to be an autopistol in a hip holster. Every single one of the guards is wearing a suit of glossy, black flak armor with a carapace chestplate. The guard with the autopistol draws a handheld auspex from his belt and begins to adjust its settings as you draw near, his lower face concealed by a compact gas mask, only revealing his eyes. The other two guards accompanying him both have compact, protruding visors, polarized to prevent you from seeing their faces. You can't see it, but it's very likely those helmets have integrated autosenses, preysense-optics and probably at least one targeter system.

The guard with the auspex snaps at you as you step out of the skimmer, running his auspex over each of you in turn, starting with Dufrane. "Stand still!"
-------
2245 Hours, Footfall Local Time - 135.816.M41 - Dock 17-B Bazaar (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=bc8q1HohDkY)

The crowds of the marketplace seem even more packed than the dockyard proper, jostling and shoving past each-other on their way to whatever business or stall the people of Footfall have decided to visit on this fine Furibundus day. Criers call out for buyers and Footfallen denizens to come to their employers' stall, countless hole-in-the-wall bars and 'restaurants' can be seen dug into the rock of the asteroid, and pict-casters displaying news-tickers and local broadcasts of every stripe can be overheard, intermingled with the sounds of business, 'itinerant preachers', and the occasional back-alley mugging.

"-Wrapping up financial news, the Lucin's Breath nephium routes report a significant decrease in pirate activity over the last month, indicating the success of several pirate-hunting operations over the last fiscal year in Winterscale's Realm-"

"Chainswords, high-quality chainswords, right here! Used by the armsmen of House Winterscale itself, they are! Quality pattern chainswords!"

"Mysterious xenos artifacts from the Unbeholden Reaches! Gaze into the mysterious spheres of the Savages of Orn! Marvel at the crystalline wonders of the Egarian Dominion!"

"-bounties paid on destroyed Rak'Gol vessels have dropped sharply in the last fiscal year, indicating a drop in xenos sightings around the Accursed Demesne and Winterscale's Realm. House Winterscale has confirmed it will continue to pay the bounty for any ships reported, however Calligos Winterscale himself has stated-"

"Do you love the sight of blood?! Do you have a taste for violence?! Do you like it when wild xenos beasts rip and tear?! Come to the Gore Pit and watch creatures from across the Expanse slaughter each-other like the wild animals they are! It's all for YOUR amusement, so buy a ticket today and come on down! Those of you sitting in the front row WILL get wet!"

"-AND SO THE EMPEROR ALWAYS PROTECTS THE FAITHFUL AGAINST THE FOUL DESIGNS OF THE XENOS AND HERETICS AMIDST THE VAST DARKNESS OF THE HALO STARS-"

"See, you pull this little lever all the way back, and the reserve load drops into the plasma flask. That'll give you another two to six shots. Just don't go on maximal mode and it'll get you out of the fight alive, long as you shoot straight. Nine-hundred thrones. Well don't give me that look. It's a plasma weapon. You knew the price would be high."

Stalls line the streets, countless buyers and sellers sample, examine, and chatter about their wares, and street performers put on a show of swordfighting for the amusement of passers-by, set to the clanging of blades as they parry and swing, hats laid out to collect a proper payment for their hard work.

Welcome to the Dock 17-B Bazaar.

[Halae]

[The Bazaar]

Sola frowns at the mention of bloodsports - they're not a particularly lovely part of this or any other world, and for a moment she puts a hand on Brutus' neck, aware that if she hadn't been the one to raise him he probably would have ended up in a beast pet somewhere, trained for fighting other animals. Being a guard dog at least wasn't the madness of an arena.

Sola will pull his chain towards one of the stalls. Really, the chain leash and thick collar were unnecessary, but he's almost four hundred pounds of dog, with teeth large enough to tear a grox in half; it makes people feel safer when a beast like that maintains the illusion of being controlled. Her first stop is to get a large amount of raw meat for the dog straight from a butcher. Even if there's bones still in the meat, he'll chew right through them in several solid crunches. The only time he's really happy is during feeding time, and Shas'ka and Shera will see her doting on the animal, going "Who's a good boy? You are! Yes you are!" while scratching him behind the ears.

[Slii Arhem]

Kasballica Mission

Naithin, who has resolved himself to be as silent as possible during the meeting unless Timaeus or Symonne expressly request his input, nonetheless is considering the consequences of shooting out the knees of the flippant Dufrane idly, with no real intention of doing so. He's sure he'd say something pithy while doing so, such as "Well, so long as you're alive, you shouldn't give a damn about your condition." But in the end, wild bursts of barely justified violence are better left to those with explosives in hand.

And he has sadly had no time to prepare any, having spent most of it since being hired acquainting himself with the ship and its scientific facilities, which were amply supplied if for frivolous and salacious reasons.

With those malicious, well organized thoughts in the back of his mind, he autopilots his way forwards at the back of the negotiations party. Perhaps he'll have a word with Symonne, without the oblique threats he tossed at the armsman, about the tactful treatment of those under your command who are in positions to leave you stranded in the warp or dead from insanity. He's aware of the likely causes of her dismissal.

He'd likely get farther talking to the pair of psykers directly to explain for his friend's behavior, though that may be a violation of her secrecy if he says too much. Bah, why does he insist on wasting time on the frivolities of the flesh. Naithin would feel better if he'd left himself in the Laboratorium with some highly reactive compounds in his hands.

When they do get to the guards and the Auspex, he stands steady with his servo-skull hovering at his shoulder. His weapons, all three of them, are on full display, and his armor is hardly hidden under his red robes.

[Lord Magtok]

Kasballica Mission


"Lord Captain, may I remind you not to accept the first deal they offer." Symonne says to Timaeus.

Timaeus studiously chooses to ignore Symonne's remark. If he's going to cut her rations, it should be for a much more presumptuous remark than that, otherwise he'll just look petty and childish, too quick to anger and the product of all of that noble heritage spoiling him rotten. No, he was still absolutely spoiled rotten, but he's professional now. He has a career now; he has the family dynasty's image to uphold and elevate to the farthest reaches of space. It would be beneath him, to waste his energies trading barbs or reducing rations over minor slights against his honor from his own entourage. If anyone asks, he was lost in thought, and never heard her at all.

"Armsmen, when we step inside, I want the two of you on either side of the rest of us, your footfalls perfectly synchronized with my own until I come to a stop. Locke and Locke, do the same, but in the two spaces between myself and the armsmen on either side, slightly behind myself. Symonne on the right, Naithin on the left. Fluffles, you can of course go at your own pace. " Timaeus instructs, with the overall goal to present the group in something sorta resembling a lowercase 'w.' I honestly don't see the point of any of this either, but you guys should probably go along with it anyways. I'm sure there will be time during the approach to get a feel for the Lord Captain's pace. Time enough to figure it out so you don't have to stare at his feet the entire approach and look like an idiot.

[happyturtle]

Kasballica Mission

"...." is the first part of Symonne's reaction to Timaeus's marching orders. It's likely to look stupid anyway, but it'll look very stupid if they get it wrong, and since they've never practiced, they're certain to get it wrong. She catches Naithan's gaze and rolls her eyes in Timaeus's direction. Just as frivolous as his Uncle Laban, just in his own completely special way.

Finally she says, "Understood, Lord-Captain." in a voice almost entirely stripped of sarcasm.

Just in time to hear the order to stand still. So she does that.

[Slii Arhem]

Kasballica Mission

Symonne's response is a silent, more than slightly angry glare at the back of the lord captain's head. She may remember the reason for his caution in concealing his true last name, even though the trader clearly didn't. Still, this event was relatively harmless, as the Kasballica is very unlikely to be dealing directly with the Ecclesiarchy, so the information will do them less good than it would another organization.

Of course, if the Captain did remember Naithin's warnings and was just doing this out of some ill-conceived spite, that would be another matter entirely.

[UncleWolf]

The Bizarre

"You're a member of the crew now, and a valuable one even if it doesn't seem like it sometimes." Shera tells the Tau as her gaze moves over the items for sale. "You shouldn't follow all the time. Sometimes you should take command of a situation and lead when you know best. You should also do things for yourself from time to time. It'll make you feel better. Do you think you can do that for me?" The Astropath asks the Tau before heading over to the stalls selling Xeno-Tech. "Also, let's ignore the blood sports. We're more than likely going to see enough blood in the future."

[Shadowcaller]

[The Bazaar]

As the 'dog' of Sola's tore into the meat Shas'ka couldn't help but to be reminded of a Kroothound. They didn't seem that common around here though, but perhaps there were more of them in that bloodsports arena. It sounded like a very foul place.
But she turns to focus on Shera again. "I can take actions on my own Or'es Shera." She replies with a nod. "But the Commander ordered me to watch you and I was being honest when I said there probably isn't much that would interest me out here. All of this seems alien and crude to me. No offense to your kin of course, I simply do not understand them." But despite her words her eyes were drawn to the xeno-tech stalls Shera was walking towards. Perhaps she could find some relic of her people here?

[blackouttwo]

[Kasballica Mission]

Dufrane merely shows the guard the laspistol he keeps on his belt, pulling back his flak-cloak to reveal it, and he slings his combat shotgun across his back. "If you're lookin' for weapons, mate, you're not doing a very good job." The guard with the scanner glares at him in response, before shutting his scanner off and putting it back in his belt with a grunt. He then reaches up to the microbead in his ear. "They're clean." A quick burst of indistinct vox-chatter and a nod later, and the guard motions for your group to follow, apparently unconcerned with the weapons you’re all openly wearing. Whatever he was looking for, he didn’t find it.

"Thank you for your patronage, sirs and madams." The driver tips his hat to you all as the skimmer-taxi takes off with a shrill whine and hovers off into the bustle of the port, effectively leaving you stranded and at the tender mercies of the Kasballica enforcers that have greeted you. This fact is almost certainly not lost on the driver.

With that, you are escorted inside by the Kasballica guards, Harkin and Dufrane actually making an effort to comply with the Lord-Captain’s request as to their formation. The gates slowly open with the clank-clank-clank of a turning winch and a groan of metal. The guard makes a hand signal to the other mercenaries on the Mission’s walls, signaling that everything seems to be in order. The guards atop the battlements slowly rotate the heavy-bolter turrets they had trained on you to aim back out into the urban sprawl surrounding their employer’s fortress, focusing once more on outward threats.

As you enter, you find yourself in a massive, spacious chamber carved out of the asteroid’s stone. Tall stone pillars line the chamber, and a domelike ceiling that’s been perfectly smoothed out by professional architects and stone-workers greets your sight as you look upward. Servo-skulls hover overhead, surveying the room with integrated pict-recorders to keep an eye on visitor, enforcer and xenologist alike. The entire place has a feeling to it akin to that of a museum or vast library; stairwells and the railings of upper floors can be seen as you look up and to either side, armed mercenary guards patrolling the entire building or standing at their posts in the corners, and countless chambers, side-doors, and hallways branch off from this room in various directions.

Men in robes scribble with styluses on dataslates as they inspect the various xenos artifacts or talk amongst themselves, either quietly debating the finer points of xenos lore or discussing recent finds in the far-flung reaches of the Expanse. The Kasballica Mission is said to house an immense number of xenologists, agents, mercenary troopers, and negotiators, and this room is but the first hint of just how true that estimate may be. More chambers such as this may easily be spread throughout the Mission. A number of pedestals are lined about the room, upon which rest various xenos trinkets and articles of xenotech, samples of the treasures that the Kasballica display to entice others that come to bargain over a slice of the profits from the Cold Trade.

Dark Eldar splinter weaponry rests next to samples of Egarian crystals and various Eldar wraithbone and primitive-looking Kroot trinkets. Tau pulse weaponry, even the damaged remains of a Crisis Suit salvaged from some warzone in the Jericho Reach, and countless other strange devices and relics rest on pedestal upon pedestal, wall-mount upon wall-mount, each with a dataslate or cogitator terminal screen next to it, elaborating upon the treasure it is associated with...or elaborating on the unsolved mystery behind it. These displays stretch on into the corridors and adjacent chambers, unceasing, immaculate, and obviously well-cared for.

The total value of the xenos artifacts in this chamber alone is nigh-incalculable to the right buyers, and the Kasballica have put it up on display for the sake of making an impression.

You are now certain the wealth to be made from this deal will be significant.

Assuming the negotiations go well.
------------------
[Dock 17-B Bazaar]

The dealer at the stall peddling xenos artifacts gives the Tau an odd look, and the astropath slightly less of one, but no less interested. The lack of any comment on the obviously xenos and psychic nature of his customers speaks volumes of the average Footfallen market salesman. The wares laid out are varied and interesting, an array of shapes, sizes, and function. Some are clearly nothing more than knick-knacks, or interesting-looking lumps of crystal, metal, or other, unidentifiable materials. Others are very obviously weapons, pieces of armor, or tools of some kind with actual purpose behind them, or relics with an obvious but unknown purpose behind them.

“Ahh, you have an eye for the forbidden and the alien, yes? This is my latest shipment, fresh off a Cold Trader transport from the Unbeholden Reaches. Kasballica connections, they had, yes. Finest xenos goods you’ll find here in Dock 17-B. What’s your interest, hmm?“ Shas’ka’s brief perusal of the stall’s wares give her no sign of any Tau technology, such is the variety in the stall’s selection that any such devices could very easily have avoided her initial notice.

Meanwhile, the man attending the food stand selling cheap meats simply looks at Sola and Brutus as the familiar chows down on his wares.

"Tha's four thrones, Lady Navigator, an’ more where it came from.” He gives Brutus a wary, but interested, look. “‘Ave you considered enterin’ that pet o’ yours in the pit-fights, Lady Navigator? ‘E’s a strong-lookin’ one, ‘e is. Could prol’ly rip some holes inna Burnscour beastie jus’ fine. Make some good money off ‘im, yeah?”

[Halae]

[Dock-17 Bazaar]

"I know," Sola says, putting four thrones on the counter and scratching Brutus' head, "He's a strong one, eats like a grox too. I'm thinking about it, and he'd be good at it, but... ugh. Those sports are so barbaric. Blood everywhere, wounded animals..." She frowns, "I know that it's entertaining, but I just feel like it's wrong."

Brutus looks up at his Mistress hungrily, and lets out a bark, hoping for more food. Given she has the chance to indulge him a little, Sola will place another four thrones on the counter for Brutus to have more to eat.

[happyturtle]

Kasballica Mission

This. This is the most impressive place Symonne has ever been. And she can't help but feel like street-dust, like little Salley dressed up in stolen rich-person clothes and pretending to be something she's not.

That imposter feeling is familiar though. And one thing Salley was always good at was running a con. This is just another one, a con where she pretends to be an adjunct to a Rogue Trader. She keeps her chin high and her expression impassive. As if such wealth was something she encountered regularly.

She even manages to get the footing right in that ridiculous arrangement Timaeus ordered.

[Lord Magtok]

Kasballica Mission

Even our Rogue Trader is awed by the building they have found themselves marching into, though he does an impressive job of not showing it. Between the dull pain of his lingering hangover pressing against his skull, the ever-present feeling of dread that Mr. Fluffles will defecate on a centuries-old xenos carpet and get them all shot, and a vague suspicion that he should've tipped the skimmer-taxi man extravagantly and has violated some ancient code of Rogue Trader conduct by not doing so, there's just not a whole lot of room left in his head to occupy with anything so superfluous as being impressed by a building, even one as absolutely stunning as this one.

[UncleWolf]

The Bazaar

"We are crude. Crude, sturdy, upfront, and time to time, elegant and beautiful. Mostly though, we're dependable and perhaps the most curious of races. Even if that curiosity gets the best of us from time to time." Shera explains as she looks over the wares, reaching out to gently run her hands over the vambrace of a suit of Eldar Armor if allowed. The dull purple and greens were easy to look at and the lines pleasing to the eyes. "That, and I think there are a few of us who have an...appreciation for what we cannot craft ourselves. Tell me sir, what sort of arrangement do you think we could come to on this armor?" She asks the peddler. "It is a graceful peace of work and I have seen few like it. You must have wonderful connections to get something like this."

[Shadowcaller]

The Bazaar

So no tau relics as far as she could see. Might be for the best as far as Shas'ka was concerned as she knew that each relic of her people she found her might as well be a memorial for hundred, if not thousand's of her people. She had been very lucky that the Commander had decided to spare her life.

The Tau found it hard to really buy Shera's argument about the 'human race' when she really lacked perspective about the other races. "But have you really gotten to know other races besides your own Shera?" She asks asks quietly to not interrupt the Gue'la's argument with the peddler. "Perspective can be important to get to know yourself and your own race better." Instead of killing anything that was different. But Shera was not to blame for what the majority of her uneducated race did.

[Halae]

[The Bazaar]

Sola will approach the pair, apparently catching the edge of their conversation, "Perspective is an interesting thing," She says, "The third eye means I have a better understanding of the warp than most, but even we Navigators see things differently. For me, the warp is an expansive green ocean that the ship swims through. My father described it as something akin to a mutated forest. As for the human species... I don't think any one person has the full scope of the sort of beings we are. Our minds work much the same, certainly, but how we grow up, from a forge world, to the void born, to the underhive, feral worlds, and temple worlds, every single one of them has a completely different set of experiences," Sola shrugs, apparently fine with that fact, "Frankly, we barely seem to know our own race, but at least we understand the way each other thinks. Xenos tend to make us reconsider that, because we can't always depend on the idea that they think the same way. It's probably why there's always so much contention between the Imperium and various other factions, besides the imperial doctrine." she shrugs, "That's not to say the Imperium doesn't fight amongst itself though. Do you have any idea how many jokes there are about the sisters of battle, the space marines, and the mechanicus? you tend to hear a lot of them in space."

[Slii Arhem]

Kasballica Mission

Naithin marches the ridiculous arrangement in perfect, mechanically timed lockstep and wordlessly has his servo-skull take up position at the back of the W arrangement, making it more of a reversed triangle if one were to include it in their estimation. More importantly, since it flies slightly higher than the rest walk it will allow it an excellent view of the rest of the room while Naithin can focus himself on maintaining a glare at his Lord Captain. It will both serve to bleed off his ire and make any observers think there is more bad blood than is actually present between himself and the Trader. False weaknesses are something the cunning Magos is often careful to cultivate, to hide his acknowledged true ones.

He is moderately impressed by the massive collection of heretekal contraband, but it was expected they would flaunt their scavenged and traded goods. Certainly nothing he can see is identifiable enough to make him desire to know more about it, beyond the obvious weapons or armors hardly anything of it makes much sense to his traditionally trained knowledge. Idly, he wonders how much concussive force some of the pieces could withstand before they stopped working entirely.

[blackouttwo]

[Kasballica Mission]

“Come on. No time to gawk at the goods. Mister Tocara’s waiting.” The Kasballica guards escorting you turn to lead you to a corridor off to the left, down the hall, and to what appears to be a small office akin to that of an Administratum adept. More xenos artifacts line the halls as you go, growing stranger and more fascinating as you move. Finally, you reach the door to Tocara’s office.

At the door, on either side, stand two more Kasballica mercenaries, these two with more personalized markings inscribed upon finely-wrought suits of beetle-black Stormtrooper carapace armor, no doubt hand-crafted by the best arch-hereteks Cold Trade money could buy, or maybe even from the forges of the Calixis Sector’s Lathe Worlds. It would most likely be best not to ask. The guard on the right carries a melta-gun. The one on the left, a hellgun modified with an underslung grenade launcher and what is clearly a motion-tracker gunsight.

In stark contrast, the door itself is an unassuming wooden door, unadorned and with a simple doorknob and mechanical lock with a keyhole. If it weren’t for the elite guards posted right out in front, this would easily constitute a glaring security flaw. The leader of your escort clears his throat, clearly nervous in the presence of these two men. “Mister Tocara?”

“He’s in, Borrman.” A deeper, augmetically modified voice answers the guard escorting you, from the guard with the hellgun. “Go ahead.” Borrman nods and moves to open the door ahead of you. “Mister Tocara, your guests are here.”

At that, the voice of an older man, the kind of voice that speaks with careful authority acquired through hard-won experience and dedication to the job, can be heard from the room beyond. “Send them in.” Borrman stands aside, and your other two escorts turn to leave, likely to return to their posts. Borrman looks to Maelius, jerks a thumb back towards the office, and follows the other two guards back up the hall, around the corner, and out of sight.

Sitting at his desk, stacked with dataslates and papers, reports of the countless xeno-archaeological expeditions the Kasballica finances across the Expanse, and a small silver Aquila symbol around his neck, you see an older bespectacled man, dressed in a grey bodysuit with a shaven head, small data-cables extending from the back of his head to his spine, and an MIU-port slightly to the left of his forehead. Behind him stand two more elite Kasballica guards, one flanking him on either side. The one on the left is armed with a boltgun, and the one on the right with a compact plasma carbine. Another show of force.

This man, Vladaym Tocara, has the look of an individual who hasn’t ever smiled once in his entire life - Which, considering the prevalence of rejuvenat treatments among the wealthy, could very easily be a vast span of time.

https://db4sgowjqfwig.cloudfront.net/images/1065399/Vladaym_Tocara.jpg

Tocara regards you all carefully as you file into his office. Looking around the room, you notice absolutely no decorations - bare walls, a simple carpet on the floor, and no personal belongings on the desk itself. The office easily screams 'company man' in your minds as the door shuts behind you. “Good. You’re here. There is much to discuss, and I have little time to discuss it. Please, have a seat.” He motions to several comfortable-looking, cushioned wooden chairs in front of you with a vague hand gesture.
-----------
[Dock 17-B Bazaar]

"The suit's probably a bit outside your price-range, miss. One of the most expensive pieces I picked up, I'm afraid, and even then my friend was letting it go for a pittance. I'd be willing to part with it for the xenos armor your...friend is wearing, maybe." He glances at Shas'ka, giving her armor a quick glance. Tau armor isn't exactly common in the Expanse; he could easily sell it for a small fortune. "Or we could do some kind of exchange, if you're up for a bit of barter. Perhaps a small task to pay me for the armor."

He lets a mirthless smile cross his features. "There's an individual who's been dealing in counterfeit xenos goods. If you have nothing you're willing or able to bargain away for this fine suit of alien armor, I would much appreciate his convenient disappearance. Buyers are shying away from me as word gets around some xenotech that's appeared on the market is fake." The Cold Trader grins a bit.

"Nobody's going to take a proper salesman at his word if this keeps up, and soon I'll end up out of business, as will a number of other Cold Traders...Or at least our pockets will be a bit lighter, and that just won't do. Only reason the Kasballica hasn't taken an interest is because it's too small-time so far. If it gets worse, they may get involved, but unfortunately I can't afford to be that patient. If he were to disappear or come to a bad end...well, it would get the message across to anyone else with a bright idea in their ugly little heads that this isn't an acceptable market practice, wouldn't it?"

"Ask around Dock 17 and the bazaar. Do some detective work. If you come back with some evidence of this affair being handled, I'll see to it that you and your friends here are put on my preferred customer list. Make sure you get some fun things for your little xenos artifact collection, yeah?" He glances back to Shas'ka, and then to Sola and Brutus. "Perhaps your friends here are interested in something from my little stall too, eh? Have a look. See if anything looks interesting."

[UncleWolf]

Bazaar

Shera looks up at the Tau. "No, I'm afraid I do not have much experience with other races, but I'm trying to get to know you, aren't I my Shas'El?" She asks with a wry smile before turning back to the trader. She knows that the Tau's rank is technically something else, but calling her this seemed a bit more fun. "My friend's armor is not for sale, but it certainly is a bad thing all around if someone is selling...less-than-authentic goods. Especially for a respectable trader like yourself." She admits with a smile and a nod. "I think we can take care of that trader for you without too much issue." Shera agrees before turning to her friends. "This is a good thing. If we can find the trader, it'll be worth it all around to remove his presence."

[Shadowcaller]

Bazaar

The tau couldn't determine how correct Sola was as she knew very little about the factions the pilot mentioned, least of all jokes about them. But it always surprised her how divided the Gue'la were. Even with their "emperor" there seemed to be so many different factions of them that she lost count. So in that she definitely agreed and nods. "Yes, I've gotten that impression of your kin."

Turning to Sola she also gives the peddler the cold shoulder at such a stupid idea as selling her own armor. There was nothing he owned that could be traded for it, no amount of Gue'la currency that could purchase it. Shera's word for her made the Tau blink underneath her helmet though, she didn't even recall learning her that word. This woman just kept surprising her, she was definitely unlike most of the Gue'la that she met before. Perhaps this was the trait that she shared with her brother?

But the other two won't be able to see all the contemplation the Tau has about Shera's use of words underneath that helmet of hers. She just stands firm without any comments, just turning her head to glance at Shera as she mentions it. Then Shas'ka actually addresses the merchant directly. "I have already looked at your wares Gue'la but I found nothing that I could use." She had no objections about the deal, not that it was her decision in the first place.

[happyturtle]

Kasballica Mission

"Thank you for seeing us, Mr Tocara," Symonne says, trying to go for somewhere between 'charming' and 'coolly competent'. "This is Lord-Captain Timaeus Maelius of the Debitum Phantasma, bearer of the Warrant of Trade, along with his honour guard, Harkin and Dufrane, Magos Blank of the Adeptus Mechanicus. And I am Adjunt Symonne Locke." She indicates each person as they are named. "Please, tell us how we can be of service to you and the Mission."

Her Babel-skull, ebony black, sinks to float under the chair. It seems unlikely it will be needed.

[Lord Magtok]

Kasballica Mission

The Lord-Captain leans across the desk to shake Mister Tocara's hand in the traditional Maelius dynasty manner: rolling up the sleeve of his right arm to show there's absolutely nothing hidden in there, and giving the other man's hand a firm squeeze and a winning smile. I think he forgot about his Rosarius when he decided to lean forward like this, though, because it slips out due to his adjusted position, and dangles in the air until Timaeus sits back down. Oops! That might be good or it might be bad for relations, but it's certainly too late to try to hide it now, because then it would appear as if Maelius was deliberately trying to hide something from Tocara, instead of just accidentally forgetting it was there.

[Slii Arhem]

Kasballica Mission

Naithin gives an appreciative nod to the armor and weaponry present on the guards flanking the office, silently complimenting them on their equipments. Melta weaponry is perhaps his second favorite form of armament, after his appreciation for the cruder methods that he still prefers.

Of course, no common meltagun pattern could compare to his Zephyrus' unique qualities, but he was aware of his bias in that regard.

He files in, last to enter, and the skull takes position at his back to watch the door, ignoring the rest of the office studiously out of respect for the man's secrets.

"Honored." The Magos sits in the chair lightly, balancing on the balls of his feet and keeping his weight there to keep the heft of his armor and augmentations from making the wood groan in stress. He'll place the melta with its butt lightly resting against the floor, holding it upright with a hand lightly grasping the barrel.

[blackouttwo]

[Kasballica Mission]

Tocara's immediate reaction to Maelius's extended hand grasping his is an expression best described as a squint. The guards flanking him immediately grip their weapons and noticeably tense up; at first it seems violence may be inevitable, before the handshake ends and Tocara leans back in his chair, his fingers clasping together, the elderly negotiator clearly satisfied with the introductions. "Pleased to meet you in person, Lord-Captain." His face otherwise unreadable, Tocara reaches for a dataslate and passes it to Symonne, his eyes firmly locked onto Maelius before flicking to both Symonne and 'Magos Blank.' "I trust you may be what my superiors are looking for, for this venture. But, before I make my decision...Tell me, what do you know of the Egarian Dominion?"

The dataslate you've just been handed seems to contain a significant amount of information on a planet somewhere in Winterscale's Realm. Judging from a cursory examination of its contents, something doesn't sit right with the mention of the Egarian Dominion when compared to information presented on the dataslate.

The planet itself is a dry, arid world with a breathable atmosphere, according to the readouts. Possibly useful or valuable for potential wealth to be found there, but on the other hand, nothing about such wealth is detailed in the dataslate. Included seems to be a large passenger and cargo manifest, including significant amounts of digging equipment, large cargo trucks, dig crews of significant size, detachments of mercenary guards, a few bulk-cargo landers, and excavation vehicles.

Attached is a collection of reports from one Chief Xenologist Haud Tuth.

Day 1: Planetfall. Search crews have already found the tunnel network Lord-Captain Jerak's report spoke of. We're on-target. Guards and xenologists are advancing into the tunnels as I compose this entry, and with any luck, we will have a definitive dig site by this time next week.

Day 6: Dig site marked. Dig crews have been put to work. Crystalline materials are reminiscent of the Egarian Dominion's architecture; we may have discovered another Egarian ruin akin to those on the dead worlds of the Dominion. Further analysis pending, but it looks promising thus far. Some of the crystalline materials are somewhat off-color compared to the usual Egarian coloration, but this world has thus far fit the profile for an Egarian colony.

Day 9: Dig crews report they broke into a large chamber. Possible burial site. Odd materials found - Possible examples of Egarian weaponry arrayed in large rows. Ordered several samples recovered for study by xenologists on the surface, and am inspecting one such sample now. Design is vaguely reminiscent of a human lasgun or autogun - obvious rifle-type weapon, may indicate warriors were buried with wargear. Indication of possible militaristic leanings of this colony or Egarian race as a whole.

Day 14: More off-color crystal samples, then more weapons. Dig crew member got injured by accidental shot fired from dig site worker randomly and recklessly handling one of the Egarian weapons, claiming it 'looked like an autopistol.' Worker has been disciplined by the camp guards and an ideal example made.

Day 19: Dig crews report odd chamber beneath the possible burial site. Going to investigate more closely.

Judging from the information in the dataslate, it's very likely the Kasballica want the crew of the Debitum Phantasma to undertake a voyage to this world to drop additional supplies, personnel, and equipment off to aid in the dig.

Charm: You're uncertain what to make of Vladaym Tocara. His handshake is firm. His visage a strong and uncompromising one. As much as you try to make yourself seem every bit the dashing Rogue Trader, he seems largely unimpressed for that very reason. His eyes, however, seem to get a slightly brighter inner spark. He may think this foppish boozehound in front of him is hiding some deeper intellect or cunning. Or he may believe a fool is what is needed for the task at hand.

Either way, you can see that something at the back of Tocara's mind is telling him 'This could be the man for the job...but is he really up to this?' You can see it in his eyes. He's clearly convinced, not fully, but with a bit more effort...

The Egarians are an extinct race that were from a cluster of several star systems called the Egarian Dominion in Winterscale's Realm. To date, the species' technology has largely remained undocumented; some examples of Egarian technology are well-known among Rogue Traders, the Inquisition's Ordo Xenos, and Kasballica xenologists, including Egarian Shardcasters and the infamous 'Geode grenades.' By the time that the Imperium discovered the Maw and the Stations of Passage, and began formal entry into the Koronus Expanse, the Egarian civilization was long dead.

The odd crystalline materials they used to make their claustrophobic maze-cities (the most prominent examples of their surviving architecture), however, have been subject to intense study. This is the one constant hallmark of the Egarian civilization. An unusual crystal material that makes up their mazes, spires, and seemingly their weapons technology, this crystal is white, with a slight opacity that blurs the image of anything on the other side. When held up to light, the crystals produce a variety of mulitcoloured hues that light up their structures in disturbing patterns.

Recovery of this crystal and intense study of it has resulted in several interesting developments among Cold Trade dealers, including a specialized form of armor coating involving a chemically-treated Egarian crystal layer that has proven effective in allowing the wearer to shrug off directed-energy attacks by simply bleeding the heat off the outer layer. Egarian technology and materials are among the Kasballica's primary stock and trade and this blatant tech-heresy is nevertheless effective for many militant buyers, bringing significant amounts of wealth into the Kasballica's coffers.

Beyond their technology and special materials they used in their construction, there's still much to learn from the Egarian Dominion's ruins, and countless stories and mysteries, including quite a few ghost stories often told in starport taverns, ranging from tales of astropaths spontaneously committing suicide as if to resist possession in an Egarian tower to the stories of the infrequent phenomenon of 'Maze Madness' brought on by the unnatural environs of their ancient maze-cities. No trace of the bodies of this Xenos race has ever been discovered, and whatever technology they used to explore the stars has thus far eluded the investigations of all of the best Xeno-Archaeologists out there. It is known that they must have explored the stars, as the worlds of the so-called Egarian Dominion all bear the same hallmarks of their civilization. Vast tracts of claustrophobic mazes culminating in giant crystal spires dot the worlds of the Dominion, but no trace of bodies or voidfaring technology has ever been discovered there.

The cause of their sudden extinction across multiple worlds is still unexplained, but theories range from extermination by the dreaded xenos race known as the Yu'vath, to dabbling in Warp-based technology, to some kind of interstellar civil war, and countless other theories. To date, none have been proven.
------------
[The Bazaar]

The xenotech peddler simply shrugs at the Tau's insistence she saw nothing of interest. "Suit yourself. I don't normally cater to xenos, but selling their goods has made me a bit of money. Got some Tau stuff in the back, if you're sure this other stuff isn't quite for you." The bustle of the port bazaar continues around you, unabated. Footfall never rests, and you hear criers that weren't there before.

Plenty of people to ask for help in discerning the location of this counterfeit xenotech dealer.

"Knives, knives, and more knives! Mono-knives, chain-knives, throwing knives, bola knives..."

"Give that autocannon a nice new shine!"

"Why can't I hold all these fine pieces of fruit?! Come and buy some! Lighten my load!"

"-pirate activity in the Unbeholden Reaches may be spiking in recent months, but activity on trade routes remains unhindered. Rogue Trader Jonquin Saul had this to say about his efforts in the Unbeholden Reaches these last few months-"

[Shadowcaller]

[The Bazaar]

Shas'ka turns to the merchant with new interest. "If you have anything of my people, I would be most grateful if you showed it to me Gue'la." She states with a nod.

[happyturtle]

Kasballica Mission

Symonne reads over the slate, and passes it to Naithan. "Not so much as I would wish," she says. Ordinarily, this would be the sort of thing she'd bluff and dissemble about, but not when sitting right in front of someone who obviously can call her on it. Not to mention, someone doesn't become the head of an organization like this if they're easily conned.


The dataslate you've just been handed seems to contain a significant amount of information on a planet somewhere in Winterscale's Realm. Judging from a cursory examination of its contents, something doesn't sit right with the mention of the Egarian Dominion when compared to information presented on the dataslate.

The planet itself is a dry, arid world with a breathable atmosphere, according to the readouts. Possibly useful or valuable for potential wealth to be found there, but on the other hand, nothing about such wealth is detailed in the dataslate. Included seems to be a large passenger and cargo manifest, including significant amounts of digging equipment, large cargo trucks, dig crews of significant size, detachments of mercenary guards, a few bulk-cargo landers, and excavation vehicles.

Attached is a collection of reports from one Chief Xenologist Haud Tuth.

Day 1: Planetfall. Search crews have already found the tunnel network Lord-Captain Jerak's report spoke of. We're on-target. Guards and xenologists are advancing into the tunnels as I compose this entry, and with any luck, we will have a definitive dig site by this time next week.

Day 6: Dig site marked. Dig crews have been put to work. Crystalline materials are reminiscent of the Egarian Dominion's architecture; we may have discovered another Egarian ruin akin to those on the dead worlds of the Dominion. Further analysis pending, but it looks promising thus far. Some of the crystalline materials are somewhat off-color compared to the usual Egarian coloration, but this world has thus far fit the profile for an Egarian colony.

Day 9: Dig crews report they broke into a large chamber. Possible burial site. Odd materials found - Possible examples of Egarian weaponry arrayed in large rows. Ordered several samples recovered for study by xenologists on the surface, and am inspecting one such sample now. Design is vaguely reminiscent of a human lasgun or autogun - obvious rifle-type weapon, may indicate warriors were buried with wargear. Indication of possible militaristic leanings of this colony or Egarian race as a whole.

Day 14: More off-color crystal samples, then more weapons. Dig crew member got injured by accidental shot fired from dig site worker randomly and recklessly handling one of the Egarian weapons, claiming it 'looked like an autopistol.' Worker has been disciplined by the camp guards and an ideal example made.

Day 19: Dig crews report odd chamber beneath the possible burial site. Going to investigate more closely.

Judging from the information in the dataslate, it's very likely the Kasballica want the crew of the Debitum Phantasma to undertake a voyage to this world to drop additional supplies, personnel, and equipment off to aid in the dig.

[UncleWolf]

Bazaar

"If you would like to stay and look, that's fine." Shera tells the Tau. "Sola and I will be back shortly." The Astropath turns to the Navigator and gives a small nod. "Are you ready? I'm sure more people will be willing to talk to you than me, but we should try nonetheless." She explains before heading off to go speak to the other traders.

[Lord Magtok]

Kasballica Mission

"Magos Blank, if you would be so kind?" Timaeus says with a glance, directing their contact's query to the individual most qualified to answer it. Seems he's remembered to use the right surname this time, too.

[Halae]

[Bazaar]

Sola nods, "Yeah, I'm ready. I'll check the east end, you check the west," Unless stopped, Sola will head off to the east end of the dock in order to find out more information about this illicit dealer. She didn't see anything in particular she wanted from the dealer, but perhaps she can find something.

[Slii Arhem]

Kasballica Mission

Magos Blank nods to Timaeus and gives the dataslate a cursory glance over, absorbing some of the information before responding promptly.

"An extinct race known for its crystalline tech and building construction, likely grown by seeding and frameworks rather than cut away from existing mineral structures, though that is speculation. Advanced in their own way in offensive and defensive technology, nothing is known about their transport capabilities and there is a plethora of rumor surrounding their cities, perpetuated by the weak-minded. The crystals they use are prismatic, which causes fools to believe they must be warp-tainted and capable of driving men insane by proximity." He stops here, considering the benefits of launching into a dissemination on their various tech and the derived heretech devised by cold traders, but decides against it. Their host already knows, and it will not serve his allies to listen to dry descriptions of minute details.

"They are not only extinct, but there is no trace of them anywhere on any of their worlds. To my estimation that means the most likely of the theories for their extinction is a massed Warp anomaly that removed their bodies from where remains could be found. Barring that, they could have perhaps all left, since there is no evidence of their ships we cannot discount that they could have pulled off a total planetary exodus. Once in the void, they may have simply died to its perils and could still be adrift out there. Least likely, but still technically possible, they could have died in their maze-cities and spires and then been incorporated into the framework of the cities, if enough time had passed for them to be reduced to carbon and then the crystals overgrew the dust of their forms. Perhaps more likely is that since we don't know their structure, we don't know what to look for in remains." Another pause, and he decides that is enough on their disappearance and gets to the heart of the matter.

"Of the most importance to the Cold Traders is their technology, a conceptually finite resource unless we can find a way to replicate it rather than scavenging. Unlikely to be entirely used in the near future, but something that any xenologist heretech would certainly enjoy reverse engineering. Though considering the example of its originators, something to be treated with caution."

[Shadowcaller]

Bazaar

"I find it unwise to split up the group up any further than it is Or'es Shera. I can always look at his goods when we return." Shas'ka didn't think the two Gue'la were in any danger without her protection however, she was more concerned about her own safety in this hive of filth and chaos.

[blackouttwo]

[Kasballica Mission]

Vladaym Tocara merely stares at 'Magos Blank', his thin line of a mouth and humorless face giving off the feeling of him somehow being moderately impressed despite the complete lack of any kind of change in facial expression whatsoever. "I see. Very well, then, I suppose that if you lack an understanding of this opportunity personally, you have a specialist on hand to provide you with the...necessary details.

"To provide a concise version of the story, we believe we've found a subterranean Egarian maze-city. Our xenologists have good reason to believe that it contains a significant number of artifacts and materials worth recovering. We also believe this may constitute a significant academic find. Our last expedition left behind a modest dig crew, several xenologists, and a number of guards to ensure the operation's security and lay the groundwork for a larger supply drop later. We'd planned to begin xeno-archaeological work in earnest as soon as the cargo was delivered." Tocara's gaze falls on Maelius, his eyes boring straight through the poor Rogue Trader and his foppish boozehound exterior.

"Our...job offer, if you will, Lord-Captain, is to transport supplies and personnel to the dig site. It is also an opportunity for you to survey the dig site itself if you so desire, and decide whether you wish to invest in the operation. My superiors are willing to promise a significant return, with a 30% markup. While you are there, we would also like you to collect a report from Mr. Tuth, the Chief Xenologist of the expedition, to bring back with you for my records." Tocara vaguely motions to the dataslates and papers that cover his desk in neat stacks, as if talking with his hands is the only opportunity he has to display any kind of emotion.

"If you are interested, I will inform my superiors that you've taken the job, and I will see to it you can be sent on your way without interruption." His steely gaze shifts to Naithin, and then Symonne as well, before settling on Maelius again.
---------------
[The Bazaar]

Inquiry: Sola finds it easy to move through the masses filling the bazaar; asking around is practically child's play. The people of Footfall are more exposed to Navigators and psykers than most, and while none of them are especially predisposed to talk to you, it's an easier time than you've had in the hive or in other ports. You finally manage to weasel some information that might lead you to the counterfeit xenotech dealer from a street urchin; for five Thrones, he directs you to 'an associate' of his in Dock 16-A, one dock over, who may know more. He gives you the name 'Lag', and tells you that he hangs out in the Gilded Spear bar over in the Dock 16-A markets.

Shera's Inquiry: The first few minutes after separating from Sola go terribly. Within minutes, the people of Footfall are scurrying away or making room as you approach people in the crowds, trying to get away from the xenos - or the witch accompanying it. The traders aren't much better disposed. It takes a while, and almost nothing is accomplished. Eventually, you get the picture - between the obvious terror associated with psykers, and an unfamiliar xenos wandering about the port with no apparent 'proper' handling. If you don't make yourselves scarce sometime in the near future, things might get a bit ugly.

[Halae]

[Bazaar]

"We know who we're dealing with now," Sola says over the comm-bead to Shera and Shas'ka, "Meet me at the Gilded Spear bar, Dock 16-A."

Sola, of course, will have headed over there almost immediately upon hearing the news, Brutus close on her heels. She's rather proud that she's proving useful at this point, and so, enjoying the fact that she's doing so well, will head right into the bar, get herself some amasec, and sit down to wait for the team, looking around the place with unhidden curiosity.

[happyturtle]

Kasballica Mission

"By my Lord-Captain's leave," Symonne says, looking to Timaeus for a nod or the like, "I'll just need to go over some of the details with you, Mr Tocara." Symonne takes out a tablet and begins rapidly running the numbers - distance, fuel, number of passengers, cargo tonnage, etc - asking questions to tease out the smallest details. They might, in the end, lose money on this venture. But if they did, it would not be because she forgot to account for one of their expenses.

[Lord Magtok]

Kasballica Mission

"Proceed," Timaeus answers with a lazy wave of his hand, before trying to slip the first dataslate out of Magos Blank's hands; see what all the fuss is about. Seems he's doing his best to look exactly like the distracted and clueless Rogue Trader that the Mission is most likely looking for. That, or he really is exactly that clueless and easily distracted. He still manages to chime in now and then about finances, however, suggesting he's at least somewhat invested in the proceedings.

[Slii Arhem]

Kasballica Mission

Naithin, seeing something in Tocara's expressionless mask, nods in acknowledgement, "It is the burden of the well informed to suffer the tedium of informing the underinformed." He intones deeply, his monotone betraying the slight against his captain not an iota.

He remains quiet and in thought while everyone talks finances and numbers. Things he has more than a passing interest in, though he doesn't presume to provide input. This is Symonne's forte, he's just fond of money and the projects it can fund.

When it does come to cargo, though, he cuts in briefly, "What sort of mining tools are they using to excavate the site? I am familiar with Ketas MTB-7 Mining Meltas, as well as traditional blasting methods, and I'm curious as to which method would prove most effective and the least likely to result in casualties given what I know of the heat resistant properties of the treated crystals that have been derived from Egarian xenotech."

[UncleWolf]

Bazaar

"Good." Shera admits through the microbead as she looks around warily. "Because I don't think my Shas'El and I are particularly welcome here." She adds before going towards the meeting spot. "We'll see you soon." She promises before looking up at the Tau. "I certainly hope this gets better."

[Shadowcaller]

Bazaar

"That they're not attempting to kill me is good enough for me Or'es Shera." The tau replies dutifully. She hadn't even tried asking around, even with her helmet on Gue'la avoided her like a disease-ridden kroot dog.

[blackouttwo]

[Kasballica Mission]

Tocara looks about ready to answer the Magos's fine question, interspersed with the responses to Symonne's inquiries about the finances of the operation. "The offer stands at covering any reasonable macrocannon ammunition expenditures, point-defense turret ammunition costs, fuel, and, of course, your fee for running the supplies and personnel. The number of passengers shouldn't be any higher than a mere five-hundr-"

He pauses, and glances down at a certain psychic familiar on the floor of his office, a vein practically bulging very suddenly from the side of his head, next to his MIU port. No change in his expression, his eyes, or his bearing betrays his growing anger, but the vein alone says everything. "Is that...a dog?" His voice betrays his cold fury, barely contained, practically tranquil beneath his all-business exterior. "Ms. Locke, I assure you this deal is in your favor. The Kasballica will pay nothing short of handsomely. I will send the rest of the information and the contract by courier with the passengers you'll be carrying. You have the job." With that, Tocara reaches into his desk drawer and he thrusts what looks like a small black rock at Maelius. "Take this and get that filthy animal out of here. Present this to your Navigator. It contains the relevant information to get you to the Hades Tertius system, where we discovered our latest find.

"Pleasure doing business with you. Now get that PUG out of my office."
-----------------
[Dock 16-A - The Gilded Spear]

The bar itself is a dingy place. You immediately get the feeling that this is the kind of bar this wretched hive of scum and villainy was built for. The sole purpose of Footfall is to cater to people who would frequent, build, or run places like this. Wooden floorboards creak, a low-hanging ceiling fan slowly circulates filthy-smelling air and the amasec smells and tastes more like cheap rotgut booze.

Footfall at its finest.

The bar is crowded by the usual assortment that would come to dives like this; Narco-tribesmen, mercenaries, Rogue Trader and pirate crewmen on shore-leave, the occasional mutant degenerate off in the corner, and the bar is being tended by an older gentlemen (for a loose use of the term 'gentleman') with sideburns and a massive mole on the right side of his nose with a single long hair growing out of it. Every single person in this bar is armed, with the weapons ranging from automatic rifles and sidearms to chain-knives, most have aging or battered augmetic limbs or eyes, and the tables are being propped up with a variety of pieces of junk, including stolen cargo crates, 2x4s, stacks of rockcrete blocks, and ammo crates (almost certainly emptied of anything useful first).

Everyone is either standing or sitting alone, or clustered tightly together in small groups in the corner. As you walk in, loud, obnoxious music approximately 39,000 years out of date (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=BsUi9R6V1WA) plays on an aging vox-box on the bar-top counter. Someone in the bar shrieks in pain as a sickening squelching noise and a wet spattering of some kind of liquid can be heard.

"Now get out. I don' have any more guddamn time to waste on you." An armored mercenary with a glass right eye kicks some unfortunate man missing his left hand out the window before turning to head back to the bar. Meanwhile, in the corner, a group of men in bandannas, hats at jaunty angles, and with a variety of scars are playing a game of cards, heedless of the mess all over the floor not ten meters away. The bartender continues cleaning a filthy glass that looks like it's seen better days, with a rag that looks like it hasn't been washed in years.

A few men glance at the Navigator, but make absolutely no move. The Tau and the Astropath elicit slightly more of a reaction. You three together get careful looks from all parties in the corners. The situation is liable to get nasty if anyone makes a wrong move, but most seem inclined to simply keep drinking or playing cards, and ignore the trio of freaks in their midst.

After all, you're hardly the most interesting thing to ever pass through here.

[happyturtle]

Kasballica Mission

Symonne gets to her feet, quite ready to depart before Tocara realizes just how much in their favour the current deal is. "Thank you, Mr Tocara. I have no further questions."

[UncleWolf]

The Gilded Spear

Shera is used to such looks by now, but considering who her brother is, she also knows the best way of dispersing them. The first thing she does upon entering is head over to the bar, pulling out a small ouch of thrones from her robes and setting it in front of the bartender. "A round for everyone. And one for each of us as well." There's easily half again too many to pay for just the booze, but she makes no motion to take any of it back.

[Shadowcaller]

The Gilded Spear

Shas'ka scanned the bar for any potential threats, trying to determine their reactions to Shera's offer before turning to the bartender. "Nothing for me." She had no intention to unmask in the middle of a bar filled with unknown Gue'la. People were giving her enough strange looks and she wasn't even sure how Gue'la beverage would affect her. Not to mention that she was technically still on the job.

[Lord Magtok]

Kasballica Mission

Timaeus nods towards the Kasballica representative, pockets the black rock, and leads his party out the door and away. He's fairly certain that Mr. Tocara's estimate of their personnel runs above and beyond what their personnel count actually is, but of course he doesn't say anything about that. The God-Emperor helps those who help themselves, as they say. Good things come to those who take.

"Hey girls, we've got the job, and we're on our way back. The talk went better than expected, but I think we'd better leave the canids with you ladies next time. Nobody giving you any trouble, I should hope?" Timaeus asks over the comm-bead. Of course the xenos soldier in full-body combat armor with a pulse rifle, the navigator capable of murdering with eye contact, and the spooky witch in green robes aren't being given any trouble, but Shera's still his little sister, and he can't help but want to check in periodically and be sure everything is as it should be.

[Slii Arhem]

Kasballica Mission -> Elsewhere

Magos Blank will follow at a leisurely, measured pace, still at the side of Timaeus that he requested earlier if anyone cared to check. The servo-skull hovers from one shoulder to the other, orbiting him and keeping an eye on all angles. *ksht* The pug upset our host, and we had to leave prematurely. He did not dispute terms because of this, though one of our questions went unanswered." He chimes in on the comm link, elaborating further. One of his questions, to be specific, but it was hardly a vital one. Just preparedness combined with idle curiosity.

[Halae]

[The Gilded Spear]

Sola waves to the group, "Since everybody's here, I'll tell you who we're looking for. He's a young man called Lag. Late teenage, bionic left eye and waaaay too much styling gel in his hair." Not that the rest of the group has been filled in on exactly why they're looking for him, but hey, whatever works.

[blackouttwo]

[Kasballica Mission]

The guards standing at the door as your party files out of Tocara's office move to escort you out of the Mission, one man in front and another behind you, in an ideal position to gun down anyone who gets a vocal opinion. The trip back through the awe-inspiring museum is a brief one. The groaning metal of the front gate greets your ears one more time as you're led out in front. A skimmer-taxi, cleaner and with a shinier coat of sleek, black paint is parked out in front, a grim-faced, gaunt driver standing by to usher you into the passenger seats in the back. Clearly the Kasballica believes in ensuring its hired help and investors are well-looked after.

One of Tocara's guards turns to look at you from behind his reflective, polarized visor, his augmetically-enhanced voice deep and intimidating. "Don't go getting ideas about going back on your agreement with Mister Tocara. If you do, I get the privilege of tossing your sorry asses out the nearest airlock."

With that, the guards turn to head back into the Mission, the gates sealing behind them. Your driver visibly sweats as the other Kasballica mercenaries on the Mission's battlements watch you, and him, closely. "Wh-where to, sirs and madam?"
--------------
[The Gilded Spear]

The bartender just shrugs as he takes Shera's money. The entire bar hears this, as quiet as it is. Every single patron begins to quietly chuckle, the mood seeming to lighten instantly. At least, lighten enough that it comes across as everyone present just being moderately paranoid, rather than everyone being extremely paranoid. Still the norm for Footfall, but hardly as bad as it was.

The bartender grunts at Sola's mention of Lag. "Private booth in the back near the rear exit." He jerks a thumb off to the left of the bar; there's a door leading further back into the establishment, with a burly and heavily-armed bouncer in heavy leathers standing guard. The guard isn't much more imposing than your average Footfall muscle, armed with a pump-action shotgun and with a sword at his belt and what looks to be a knife in a pull-down sheathe on his leathers. "You got business with the boy?"

[happyturtle]

Kasballica Mission >> Dock 17-B

"Dock 17-B, along the Tabriz passage," Symonne says, naming an area where she maintains a few contacts. Krytron detonators for Naithan, liquor for Timaeus, and then the general supplies to keep the ship running. Mustn't take too long with that, because she'll need to oversee the people and cargo the Kasballica Mission intends to load them with. I shouldn't rush things. The sooner we finish, the sooner we'll be back in the void. Her hands shake the tiniest amount as she lights a Lho stick.

[Shadowcaller]

[The Gilded Spear]

"No trouble here." Shas'ka replies into her comm-bead. "Or'es Shera has just negotiated with a trader."

[Slii Arhem]

Dock 17-B

"We have a shopping list, it may be a while before we meet again, unless you require immediate assistance." Naithin adds, reaching out a hand to Symonne in a silent request for a drag on her lho that might bring a smile to her lips if she sees it. He doesn't smoke, because it would be a hassle to do so with his implants, but it hasn't ever stopped him from asking for one every time he sees her light it.

[happyturtle]

To Dock 17-B

Symonne relaxes a little, and passes him the Lho stick. This trip will be different. This trip Naithan and I are together again. If only... She puts a hand in her sari against the lock of her mother's hair. Mother never could have come into the void. But it would have been nice to share a little of her current luxury with her. Her own monthly spending just on decent quality Lho sticks is more money than Salley and Noemi saw in a year back on Haddrack.

[UncleWolf]

Gilded Spear

"No trouble. We're just here to ask him some questions." The psyker says, trying to reassure the man. "Any trouble that starts won't be on our end." With that in mind, she heads over to where they were told to go, looking for the man that was described.

[Halae]

[The Gilded Spear]

Sola nods to the Barkeep, "Indeed. We're looking to end trouble, not make it." And will follow along with Shera.

[Lord Magtok]

To Dock 17-B

Smoking lho sticks in the taxi. Crude. Maelius would roll down the window, but it's probably even worse out there. He sighs dramatically instead, head perched in his hands. He's not yet bothered enough to insist that they put that thing out, and too preoccupied with his own thoughts right now to care all that much about anything else. Tocara raised a decent point; they don't have anyone especially knowledgeable about the xenos themselves here. There was the Magos, but he only seemed to have a very general idea of how the Egarians operated. Then again, maybe he simply chose not to get more detailed than that, who can say?

"I feel Uncle may have greatly exaggerated the reliability of his signature handshake technique. Probably best not to use that one again."

[Slii Arhem]

To Dock 17-B

"Handshake was more effective than not, what tipped the scales was the familiar. Perhaps could have seen that coming, canines are known to bring filth with them where they go, and Tocara was ignorant of the pugs' uncommon intelligence and nobility." Naithin adds the last part carefully, knowing the familiar is in some ways similar to a servo-skull for transmitting back information. Otherwise, why would Shera ask for it to accompany them?

He passes back the lho stick after flipping it around his fingers deliberately, "Tocara agreed hastily by being put off guard, not a strategy we can repeat, but in our favor in the short term." He has an idea for a moment, but does not put it through the comm-link to Shas'ka, "If the Lord Captain ever wishes to insult him while seeming well-meaning, a gift of a kroot-hound may be in order. Good for xenologists, bad for despisers of dogs." Let Timaeus take credit for that idea if he wishes.

[happyturtle]

To Doc 17-B

"He liked you, Timaeus. Everyone likes you." Symonne gives an encouraging smile, using her Charm skills on him as if he were some sort of smelly NPC or something and she could actually roll that! Ha! "I don't think your uncle ever made a deal this sizeable or potentially profitable."

[blackouttwo]

[Dock 17-B Bazaar]

Dufrane and Harkin have remained quiet this entire time, exchanging silent looks of concern and discontent before Dufrane turns to look to Maelius. He opts for voicing his concerns with a newfound text color, thus confirming his elevation to Mauve Shirt (http://tvtropes.org/pmwiki/pmwiki.php/Main/MauveShirt) status. "Cap'n, all due respect, but you sure getting in bed with the Kasballica's such a great plan? Sure, fine, money's bound to be great long as we don't screw up too hard, but they're a shifty bunch, even by Footfall's standards. Picky, too. People what cross 'em don't live long to talk about it, y'hear?"

Harkin snorts in derision. "Everyone likes to play that 'don't cross us' tune, Dufrane. They're not omniscient. We'll be fine." Dufrane grumbles in response. "They duck the Inquisition jus' fine. Might as well be omniscient."

The skimmer-taxi eventually pulls into a portion of Footfall near Dock 17-B; the bazaar, or Tabriz Passage, the marketplace in which the other half of your merry command staff went astray in search of some xenotech goods. News broadcasts and criers fill the air with the sound of their wares and slanted (or accurate, in rare cases) information. Parallel parking without an issue, the taxi touches down, and the driver steps out to open the doors, hand outstretched for the owed fare.

"-prices on smuggled plasma detonators have risen sharply due to an increase in pirate activity along Calixis Sector trade routes between the Mechanicus Lathe Worlds and other planets of the sector, cutting off any consistent supply for such devices in Footfall for the near future. There has been no word yet as to the purpose or nature of this trade route interdiction-"

"Ghostfire pollen extract! Give yourself a nice edge in a knife fight! Fresh from 41 Pry!"

"Fresh off the forge line! Gunmetal City's finest arms and ammunition! Come and get the guns that're in style in the Infernis! Scalptaker pistols, Slayer shotguns, Talon IIIs, Steadholders, Fatebringers, and more! All of the best, right here!"

"You wanted a gun? That's a gun. Ninety thrones. Oh, fine, don't get snippy. I'll throw in a free telescopic sight. Yes, the markings are faded, it's an old gun, seen a lot of work in its time. You buying or not?"

"Come and get the best forbidden novels and autobiographies this side of Malfi! The texts of Inquisitor Lazarus, Calligos Winterscale, Sarvus Trask, and more, all for sale right here! Special editions included!"

"-the mercenary company Pressure Point, based on the Calixis capital world of Scintilla, have reported that despite rumors of Inquisitorial investigation of the company's activities, they will not be closing their Scintillan offices. Despite this, insider information confirms that Pressure Point is rapidly losing business despite a proven track record for efficiency and success in the field. A number of Rogue Traders with standing security contracts for colonial defense are allegedly renegotiating their agreements with Pressure Point in response to these rumors. Sources state-"

"Bodyguards, nice 'n cheap. Professional Calixian merc licenses and all! Come down to the Broken Ogryn to hire!"

"Y'hear the news? Ryk Kiark got busted by the Arbitrators at Port Wander. Cold Trading. Whole stowage bay full of Eldar artifacts, they said. If he's not dead yet, he'll swing for it."

"-reports from the Spinward Front (http://img4.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20130216060914/warhammer40k/images/a/a6/Map_of_the_Spinward_Front.jpg) indicate that counter-offensives have stalled on the worlds of Hervara and Skrynne, with little information as to the composition or deployment strategies of Imperial Guard reinforcements currently in circulation. Naval forces are stretched too thin to cover all possible approaches into the Golgenna Reach subsector, indicating that the Calixis Sector military leadership may be preparing to cede the Periphery's currently besieged worlds to the Ork menace and the Severan Dominate secessionists in order to better cover the Calixis Sector's core worlds (http://img1.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20101223092842/warhammer40k/images/d/dc/Calixis-map.jpg). If Hervara falls, it is very likely that Ork fleets will begin launching offensives against Sepheris Secundus, Valon Urr, and Luggnum, with the possibility of the xenos invaders being within striking distance of Scintilla itself-"

"Solid flak helmet, nice 'n cheap. Standard eye-gee issue, it is. Give it to ya for twenty."
-------------------------------
[The Gilded Spear]

The bouncer nods as you head in, standing aside, but keeping a close eye on all of you, including Brutus and the drone. The room stinks of lho-stick smoke. Dark red carpet, recently vacuumed, but not in the corners, covers the floor from wall to wall. Noticeable stains on the floor from bloodshed and spilled drinks coats the carpet in places. The wood paneling on the wall looks clean enough, but there's a bit that was badly patched in after some damage that shows it's just veneer. The faint, distant scent of obscura fills one corner of the room.

The various booths and tables in the 'VIP section' aren't much better than the bar's front, except everyone looks cleaner and a bit more relaxed. These are scum bosses, mid-level gang lords, small-time smuggler captains, people of some note. Most of them glance to you as you pass, and then go back to whatever discussion they were having.

"-ain't running the 41 Pry route anymore. Navy's beefing up patrols there. Had to flash my ass at the law last time to get clear of the neat little trap they'd set up. They probably have my ship's profile on record now. Thinking of doing the Piety run next time I'm outta port. Closer. Local authorities are more willing to turn a blind eye anyway."

"-so's I said to blow his ass up. Sure enough, the idiot we're dealing with takes the chance to draw that damn flamer of his, kill two of my best men on his way to the Emperor. Always got one tryin' to be a hero. Threw his stupid ass out the airlock after we shot him dead."

"-I don't care if it's just stories. I sent two squads of my best guys to the drop point on Dusk, one guy came back. I am steering the **** clear of anyone who even suggests it next time. Sure, fine, no real Navy presence, great. Don't care. Not dealing with that ****. All that **** about the planet being cursed? 100% ****ing true."

"-you what?! Oh, man, what I'd give to see the look on that smug bastard's face!"

"-told him to eat it. Sure, fine, it's an alien monster, we shot it dead, and we're another week from rescue. You eat it to see if it's safe. Idiot chomped down on some, keeled over dead right there."

"-of course they aren't actually trained by heretics. That kind of thing is expensive and dangerous as hell. Just give them some suggestive tattoos, drug them heavily, and tell the customer whatever they want to hear. You can triple the price that way, believe me."

"Five-hundred rubies, good quality, one caret or higher, and my jeweler will be looking at it, so don't try that trick with the garnets again."

A brief perusal of the bar's VIP room tells you that Lag is most definitely here, occupying the table nearest the rear exit, gel'd hair firmly in place, bionic eye gleaming green, and accompanied by what looks to be several attractive young ganger women with varying amounts of dyed hair and piercings, a number of heavily-armed thugs, and another, better-dressed gentleman in a fine business suit who looks somewhat out of place, two more disciplined-looking bodyguards flanking him on either side; one in a suit of well-crafted light power armor and carrying a goddamned autocannon, the other carrying dual chainswords and wearing what looks like carapace armor and a jump pack, both with helmets with polarized, face-concealing visors.

"-I understand what you're saying, but I don't have nearly enough people."

The man in the suit simply clears his throat. "The environment has changed, Lag. Allow me to summarize the extent of what I need you to do. Just keep an eye on ships leaving port, and be sure to send a vox transmission if anything Vagabond-class comes in." He glances over to you three, and then at Brutus, before rising to his feet and turning to leave with his guards.

"Fine. You're not getting your fee back if nothing turns up in a month." With that, Lag's eyes flick over to you as his erstwhile employer leaves the VIP room, lingering on Shas'ka for a second before glancing back to Sola and Shera with an annoyed expression. "I'm busy, can I help you?"

[Lord Magtok]

Dock 17-B Bazaar

The Lord Captain steps out of the taxi, and hands the driver his thrones. Maybe a little more than necessary. Have to keep up that image even amongst the most insignificant of peasants, after all.

"Our voyage across the stars is young, too young to be measure in Terran years, and this entourage of explorers scantly acquainted with one another. If this seemingly innocuous supply drop is greater than every one of Uncle's past adventures, then either he was a fool beyond compare, the Kasballica drastically overvalue the worth of a humble courier vessel, or there is a vast abundance of things we do not yet know about this venture." Timaeus observes, as a faint possibility of a smile arises upon his features. No matter which is true, he still wins, doesn't he? Or at least, that's his take on the situation.

[happyturtle]

Dock 17-B - The Tabriz Passage

Symonne speaks to some people here, makes some calls there, bargains and negotiates, follows leads, and in the end, concludes, quite sadly, that Krytron detonators are simply not to be had. She's able to give Timaeus a few names to assist him in his own search, at least. After that, there is the business of supplying the ship - food, ammunition, and other consumables for all the souls on board. She makes a point of ensuring Timaeus's liquor supply, as well as her own supply of Lho sticks, but after the search for the detonators, isn't able to really spend the time to get the really luxurious stuff. The higher end of 'readily available' will have to do.

[Shadowcaller]

[The Gilded Spear]

Shas'ka goes along with Shera and Sola, not wanting to let them out of her sight. Here she finds herself confronting yet another male Gue'la they have to talk to. At this point they all really started to blend together, always busy furthering their own agendas with no time for their own kin. She even thought that they started to look rather similar. Hopefully the other two would be done with their business here fast so they could get the equipment they wanted.

[Slii Arhem]

Docks

Naithin is disappointed by the lack of availability, though he suspects that Footfall hides more than Symonne can find. But if everyone who has such a stockpile of devices is keeping tightlipped because of the pirate presence, and looking to raise the price further by extending the demand for them further.

Nonetheless, he contents himself with some oils for caring for his mechanisms, easily acquired and vague and generic enough to likely not need any rolling. He'll have to be cautious with his use of explosives on this first trip until he can somehow look into the mysterious lack of detonators.

[UncleWolf]

Gilded Spear

Shera gives a slight bow towards Lag out of courtesy. "You could say that certain hands have guided us to you, claiming that you may have a type of goods and services that we require at the moment. The kind that are a little more...specialized than most." She adds, hoping that the man gets the point of her carefully chosen words.

[Halae]

[Gilded Spear]

Sola will slide into a chair, heedless of any sort of protests the others may make, including Lag and his apparent posse. Given her Nobilite robes, the pitch black darkness of her eyes, and the sharpness of her teeth - and the brief glimpses of a third, closed eye on her forehead - it's clear what she is. She's actually a rather cute girl, if you ignore the more inhuman traits, but somehow I doubt she's Lag's type.

So she grins at him, showing off a bit of her teeth. Perhaps that'll scare away a few of the floozies hanging off of the young man, and give the guards pause.

[blackouttwo]

[Dock-17B Bazaar, Tabriz Passage]

"Hope you're right, sir." Dufrane mumbles, barely audible over the crowds.

It doesn't take long to round up the necessities - fuel, food, munitions, spare parts for the Debitum Phantasma's various machines, oils, etc. The taxi driver takes the tip and takes off without further commentary.

Preparations for the endeavor are well underway by the time the Kasballica representatives arrive, on schedule.

A small convoy of matte-black skimmer-cars, and dull, brown cargo half-tracks with large numbers of men and women - manual laborers judging from the gear they're carrying, in the back carrying what appear to be personal belongings make their way through the dockyard. The crowds part to make way. There's no apparent hurry or rush as they begin to roll up the loading ramps into the Debitum Phantasma's stowage bays.

One skimmer-car pulls away from the rest of the convoy and touches down in front of Maelius. The two passengers in the back disembark- an imposing man with a shaved head and gleaming, red bionic eyes in a suit of matte-black carapace armor with a helmet tucked under his arm, and a shorter woman wearing black robes with brown hair tied back in a ponytail. They both approach Maelius first, but give everyone else a close, appraising look. The woman in the robes speaks first. "Captain Maelius, I presume. I am Chief Xenographer Loryn Caareil. This - She pauses to glance over at the armored man with barely-concealed scorn. "-is Major Delkran Manston of our guard contingent. We're the highest-ranking members of the Kasballica contingent being sent along on your vessel."

Major Manston seems unconcerned with the xenographer's opinion, remaining silent as he chomps down on a lho-stick and lights it up. The man's heavily-scarred, and is clearly an experienced war veteran of one kind or another. Once his lho-stick is lit, he takes a long drag, and exhales, before speaking in a deep, gravelly voice, almost certainly augmented with cybernetics. "Pleasure to make your acquaintance."

--------------
[The Gilded Spear]

Everyone standing or sitting in Lag's booth freezes as Sola takes her seat.

"Oh ****." One of the ganger girls hisses as she tries to shrink into her seat in near-silent terror, going pale. The other two girls in the booth do the same. Lag pales, but stays put. His eyes, both bionic and organic, lock onto Sola, wide as dinner plates with fear. "A-a Navigator?" He then glances to Shera, and Shas'ka, as if looking for a way out, only to register they were something as bad as the Navigator in front of him.

"L-look, I-I can get you anything you need. Guns, ammo, drugs, contacts in the Cold Trade, you name it. I got it all. Please. Just don't...don't take my blood or my soul or anything. Please." The young gang boss is sweating profusely from his brow. His fear's palpable. Everyone else in the VIP room has turned to take a closer look at the proceedings; several hands are already on gun-grips, ready to draw if the situation escalates somehow. Most are simply observing with interest, however.

[Lord Magtok]

Dock-17B Bazaar, Tabriz Passage

Just as Timaeus thought. Definitely not just a harmless supply run. That is, unless these people themselves are part of the supplies. Entirely possible, now that the Lord-Captain thinks about it. Hrm. Maybe leave this sort of theory-crafting to the Seneschal, Timaeus doesn't seem to be getting anywhere with it. Best get back to the charming and eccentric fop routine, discuss the matter with Symonne later. Over a couple drinks for him, and a few lho sticks for her. It's been too long since the Rogue Trader has had an excuse to drink himself into a state of complete shamelessness, and he'll have nothing better to do when they're passing through the warp anyways, right?

"Charmed," he starts, clearing his throat. A hand gesture with unnecessary flourish passes over his current retinue, in order of importance and rank, as his other hand is extended (without sleeve adjusting this time), should either wish to shake it. "Chief Adjutant Symonne Locke, Magos Blank, Armsman Dufrane, and Armsman Harkin. That's all for now, unfortunately. I'm afraid the other half of my entourage is indisposed elsewhere, running a few errands, and their introductions will have to wait."

The xenographer seems cute enough (though most anything with a pulse is), but she's with the Mission, isn't she? Blegh. Never mind that right now though, there's business to conduct. Besides, she's probably bad news, and some variety of lowborn scoundrel. The soldier too, but even more so, given the rather pointed 'you are less than dirt in my eyes' look the xenographer was giving him. Hrm. He'd be a bit more appealing than the Ms. Caareil, perhaps, if not for those tragically unfashionable bionic eyes, and that absolutely disgusting lho stick habit. But again, not the time or place for those thoughts. Business, Maelius. It's the reason why you agreed to spend this entire day painfully sober and conscious of the world around you. Let's get these things done.

[happyturtle]

Dock 17-B

"Let me get you settled and comfortable on board the ship," Symonne says. "If you have any special requirements, either now, or at any time during the journey, I hope you won't hesitate to let me know."

[Halae]

[The Gilded Spear]

"You've heard some stories about what Navigators can do to people, I'm sure. Tales of three-eyed mutants from feral worlds that curse those they look at with their third eye; and I can tell you right now they're true." Sola says, leaning forward slightly. It's hyperbole, of course - there was a lot of things navigators and more feral connections to the heritage could do with their warp eyes, but cursing them for life? That's a bit outside of what they can manage. Cursing them until they die? That's much easier, even if Sola hasn't mastered it yet. "So, don't screw with me, on any level tonight. I don't have the patience for it today. We're hearing rumors of counterfeits in cold trade artifacts. Every single source we've spoken to has pointed to you." Technically true, even if there's only been two sources, "You're undercutting people, putting those we choose to deal with under. We're not happy, and I think you can appreciate the gravity of the situation when I say we won't stand for this kind of issue."

[Slii Arhem]

Aboard the Ship

Naithin gives the pair a critical, if brief glance, approving of their preparedness before turning to head to the ship itself, "And I will be sequestered in the ship's laboratorium, if your equipment needs tuning up or inspections for defects, comm ahead before you enter. Most of my work will react poorly to disruptions." And then he walks off, gruffly, to be offscreen for the most part starting his work at last in making massive quantities of explosives.

[Shadowcaller]

[The Gilded Spear]

Shas'ka squirms uncomfortably in her suit as Sola threatens the frightened man, this might just turn ugly now if they weren't careful. She looks away from the nervous mobster who both Sola and Shera probably were keeping an eye on, and surveys the rest of the bar for other potentially trigger happy individuals who might get the wrong idea. The drone does the same, covering the fire warriors back so they would have as much oversight of the situation as possible if things got violent.
She makes sure to give each person she sees as a risk a look to discourage them from taking any action, the design of her helmet could come off as rather intimidating with the lack of eyes, especially to superstitious Gue'la.

[UncleWolf]

Gilded Spear

Shera opens her mouth, but only shuts it the moment Sola speaks. Great, there goes all use of subtlety that wasn't going to put Lag on the defensive and get them all killed. Even if Lag was cowed by the Navigator, there were probably a half dozen people in here who'd be willing to shoot Sola, Shas'Ka, and herself just for a fistful of Thrones. Especially since one of their own was being threatened now. She doesn't interrupt though. Sola's decided she'd run this little show, so she might as well see how far it goes, even if she obviously doesn't look too pleased with this.

Should have worn my damned armor.

[blackouttwo]

[The Gilded Spear]

At the mention of counterfeit Cold Trade artifacts, Lag's eyes narrow, the quavering voice and paleness of his skin never quite going away. He's managed to compose himself, however slightly. "Kasballica, then." His breathing noticeably slows. He glances up to his men.

And he nods.

The slides of shotguns loudly rack new shells with grim, resounding KA-CHUNKs as Lag's trigger-men ready their weapons. The sound resonates throughout the room; it's almost immediately vacated as the people closest to the doors begin to slowly stand and file out. Those further away move a bit faster, all the better to escape before shells and lasbolts start flying.

"Last chance, you three-eyed bitch. You're wantin' to walk away from this table. Now." Lag himself draws a pistol, aiming it squarely across the table at Sola; it appears to be a Tau pulse pistol. It certainly looks to be of Tau make, at least, despite the noticeable power cable running from the gun grip to his belt, definitely not something any of you have seen on any of Shas'ka's armaments. The girls on either side of him rise, and fan out slowly around the table, drawing what appear to be pistols of their own - laspistols and stub-autos, handled with a significant amount of familiarity.

The stances of all of Lag's assorted attendants are clear. Every single one of them is barely maintaining any composure, twitchy, and ready to pull the trigger at a moment's notice the instant someone does anything. Most of their guns are covering Sola, but two of Lag's guards have shifted their aim to cover Shas'ka and Shera with shotguns.

"And don't go opening that pretty little eye of yours." He flips the safety off of his 'pulse pistol' with a small 'click.'

He doesn't seem to know that he's also dealing with an astropath. Or that the Navigator can kill him with a literal blink.
----------------------------------
[Dock 17-B Bazaar]

The Xenographer smiles broadly, pearly-white teeth in perfect arrangement showing without a single flaw, and she extends her own hand to shake Maelius's with grace and poise. "An honor to meet you, Lord-Captain. I trust the entire trip will be pleasant with you at the helm." If she's a lowborn dreg, she hides it well.

The Major just grins, smoking his lho-stick and remaining completely silent.

"I suspect your Seneschal has the situation with our cargo and support vehicles well under contr-"

SMASH

Several skimmer-cars have smashed into each-other right on the loading ramp, despite Symonne's careful direction. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pkpS2SV_MBU) The resulting pile-up forces a number of trucks to start backing down the ramp as they wait for the pile-up to clear. Several hours and a bit of effort may be required to sort things out with fewer broken bones. The xenographer glances at the mess, and then nervously smiles. "I, er...I trust this minor setback can be handled quickly enough to get us underway quickly." She laughs nervously, clearly trying to hide both the laugh and the nerves. The Major just glares at the pile-up and lets lho-stick smoke out of his nose as he exhales, an expression on his face saying 'It's going to be one of THOSE days.'

[Halae]

[The Gilded Spear]

Sola throws her head back and laughs. Hard. It's a deeply unsettling thing through the whistling of her over-sharp teeth. After a hearty moment, she says to the other ladies present, "Shera, Shas'ka, would you be so kind as to wait outside for a moment? I'd like to speak with Lag here privately, no need to drag you in." Still that same smile on her face. She's not intimidated at all by these people. She looks around for a moment, and nods to the women around Lag, "you three also may want to leave. My business at this point is with the tough guy and his bodyguards."

[UncleWolf]

The Gilded Spear

"No Sola. I'm simply quite done with this. I was going to try subtlety, but you've dashed that." Shera says as lines slowly grow into existence on the plate on her face. "Now Lag, I'm fairly certain we can come to some sort of agreement here. Or if not you, perhaps one of your bodyguards." She says, looking up at the one closest to Lag. "You know, there's a good chance you could take over his operation. All you'd have to do is kill him." She says. When she says the final two words, her voice will ring throughout the man's head, compelling him to do what she wishes.


Compel
Half-Action
Invocation: Opposed Wp test
vs63

[Lord Magtok]

Dock 17-B Bazaar

"Warp-sucking, useless, incompetent...Magos!" Timaeus shouts, not about to let this nonsense continue for a minute longer, even if he has to raises his voice and lose his cool to fix things.

[Slii Arhem]

Dock 17-B Loading

Naithin affirms he will be there to assist with the loading over the comm bead, and doesn't waste any time interfacing through his MIU to ascertain where exactly they can shave off space, cut corners, and stash stuff. Once he has a rough plan in mind, he gets back to the dock and directs the skiff runners with precision and efficiency, leaning on the captain's knowledge so that he does not, in his own words, "Accidentally set a twenty tonne storage container full of mining equipment on top of a particularly fragile trophy or hidden stash of liquor." If he's going to do this menial task, he doesn't want to be blamed for it being done in a way that inconveniences the captain's abilities to show off or get blitzed.

It also helps that, with the captain's authority at his back, no one questions him when he tells them to take an exacting amount of one commodity or another to a strange, out of the way place on the ship that wouldn't normally be used for stowing.

[happyturtle]

Dock 17-B Loading

"Thank you, Magos," Symonne says, and lights a Lho stick. Clearly it's going to be one of those days.

[Shadowcaller]

[The Gilded Spear]

Shas'kas gaze is immediately drawn to the weapon in Las hand. A weapon of the tau, crudely corrupted by this gue'la. What an insult. At least the other Gue'la had the sense to leave the weapons as they were. What also came off as insulting to her was Solas order, going off that aggressive and then demand to deal with it herself as either arrogant, foolish or an attempt to show off. Or perhaps she was attempting to protect the unarmored Shera? Whatever the case, she wasn't going anywhere unless Shera agreed.
Glancing at the psyker she felt relived when it wasn't the case, the time to fight was now.

As soon as Shera has spoken the fire warrior moves to the side to act as a meat shield for the psyker while shooting at the guard aiming for her (or Shera depending on which guard Shera talked to, she isn't going to shoot him.) The drone fires at whatever other guard that is aiming for Shera and opens fire as well.

[Halae]

[The Gilded Spear]

Well crap, nothing for it now. Sola will quickly draw her own laspistol and fire at an uninjured, non-mind controlled subject - Lag is being handled, but one of the guards should be fine to go after.

Attack roll: [roll0]/104 (44 +30 for point blank, +30 for surprise)

Brutus, meanwhile, hears the call to action, and will immediately strike out after the first aggressor he finds. Chances are, that'll be one of the floozies.

[blackouttwo]

[The Gilded Spear]

With a sudden flurry of gunfire, several things happen all at once.

As the astropath selects an unwitting victim, her voice rings out in his head. With a blank expression across his scarred features, he turns to shoot Lag, and his unaimed shot blows the young gang lord's leg clean off at the hip. Lag's high-pitched screams drown out all of the noise of the next few split-seconds.

That's when everyone else starts shooting. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=1xNe2yRvF5s)

Sola draws her laspistol and fires three shots straight through a guard's chest. The body bursts into flames as it falls. Shas'ka's pulse rifle blasts another guard's arm clean off, burning it to ash and sending the body tumbling to the ground, killing the ganger from shock. Spurred on by his master's impulse, Brutus leaps, and with a massive fanged maw, he savages the upper arm of one of Lag's girls. Her shrieks die out quickly as the familiar rips the arm clear of its socket. Bork, meanwhile, blasts one of the other two girls with its integrated pulse rifle, blasting her head clean off and setting fire to the rest of her body. Her headless, flaming corpse, turns to run past the last surviving girl, who manages to duck out of the way just as it runs past, continuing on into the next room and setting fire to most anything it passes.

That's when the ammo cooks off.

A massive detonation of shotgun shells in a bandoleer across the chest of the guard Sola shot dead sends Shera flying back dozens of feet to land on a table that collapses beneath her, crumpling to the floor. The astropath is knocked unconscious by the impact. Meanwhile, the blast also throws back both the guard Shera seized control of and the last of Lag's attendants another dozen or so feet. While both are clearly still breathing, neither remains conscious, the compelled guard landing at an awkward angle against a nearby booth, the attendant against the wall on the far side of the room.

Pellets PING against Shas'ka's body armor while Sola rolls out of the way of the explosion, moving mostly to avoid the inevitable exchange of shots, and evading the blast by hitting the floor at precisely the right time, by sheer chance. The Tau drone, meanwhile, engages its threat detection software and trims the power-draw by its grav-lift engine and lowers itself to the floor, allowing it to evade the incoming wave of pellets. Brutus snarls in pain as the pellet and blast-wave slam into his back and left side, full force, but the familiar is too enraged by the audacity of his prey to fight back that he resumes gnawing on her arm.
---------------------
[Gilded Spear, Front Barroom]

The owner quietly cleans glasses. It didn't sound like much was going to happen tonight. Lag had a lot of visitors in his usual booth, though. It was good to see the young lad moving up in the world, so many customers coming to do busines-

BLAM

"AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAGH"

PEWPEWPEWPEWPEW

"AAAAAAAAAH, MY ARM!"

ZOTZOTZOT

BOOM (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M27_cYTcZJI)

pingpingping

CRUNCH-WHAM-SLAM

That's when a flaming, headless corpse, vaguely female in form, runs out the door to the VIP room, and then out into the streets beyond the bar's entrance. Screams of surprise can be heard out in front.

The bartender sighs, and he puts the glass he's cleaning down next to the rag on the bar counter.

It's gonna be one of those nights, apparently.
---------------------
[Dock 17-B, Tabriz Passage]

With the matter of loading the passengers and cargo handled, the young xenographer Caareil turns and bows to Maelius gracefully. "I'll inform my dig team all is in readiness. We'll get our personnel sorted out for the voyage, Lord-Captain." Smiling broadly, she turns to help the men and women loading their gear onto the Debitum Phantasma.

The Major, meanwhile, just snorts. "This is gonna be a fun trip."

[UncleWolf]

The Gilded Spear

Shera lays on the ground, unconscious with her tongue sticking out just slightly, snoring peacefully and blissfully unaware of anything going on around her.

Dock 17-B

Her pug on the other hand sits up suddenly, fur raised in anger as he lets out a loud growl. Three booming barks later he takes off at full speed, heading towards his injured master without any deviation in his path.

[Slii Arhem]

Dock 17-B

Naithin, both glad for the distraction and genuinely curious what the heck could make a psychic pug act so bizarrely, makes a snap judgement and waves his hands imperiously over the rest of the workers, "I'll leave Jonny here to oversee your work and direct you if necessary. Direct your questions to him. As for me, I'm afraid I have to follow that pug!" And then he sprints off after the dog, keeping a close eye on it and the havoc it's no doubt causing by running through everyone without regard to obstacles in its path as dogs are wont to do.

Mostly it's an excuse to get out of the rest of the boring and tedious logistics work, but as he keeps his run to an easier to maintain jog, he thinks more critically about the disturbance and realizes that the other members of the landing party were going to speak to someone, and that the pug has a psychic connection to its mistress. A mistress who happens to be the sister of their Lord Captain.

Meanwhile, the skull, now given a name, bobs in the air on its thrusters, turning slowly in place to regard the dock workers with an impressive array of surveying equipment. A massive, shining red lens has completely overfilled one of its eye sockets, and gives the impression of an omnipresent, unblinking monocular stare.

Naithin's voice is broadcast through it in a reasonable facsimile, hollow and electronic recreations of his normal tones reverberating around in Jonny 0b101's cavities.

"Get back to work, all but two of you. One of you go to the laboratorium and turn off the heating elements, in case I do not return quickly. Another, inform the Lord Captain directly that his sister is likely harmed or in danger, and allow yourself to be shot for delivering the bad news." The skull says this even if the Lord Captain is nearby, or standing directly beneath it. Shooting the messenger is cathartic and practically tradition where Naithin is concerned.

[Shadowcaller]

The Gilded Spear

Shas'ka does not move from her position, not even attempting to dodge the explosion in hopes that perhaps she could shield Shera. She just closes her eyes for a moment as the bullets hits her armor, she takes a step backwards, all while trying to ignore the pain of the bullets almost penetrating it.
She then opened her eyes and quickly scanned the situation, Bork providing a set of second eyes to quickly assess the situation. All the guards were down, two alive, the others dead including the poor Gue'la that had lead them. Sola and her dog were still standing.

Shera...

She turns around once she is sure it's safe, she had hoped that she would somehow had blocked the explosion with her body, but Shera wasn't there. She was laying on the floor several meters from her. "MONT'AU SHAS!" She loudly swears and rushes over to the unconscious psyker to quickly check her pulse.

Alive. But beaten.

Shas'ka doesn't take the time to be relieved however, instead she opens up her comm bead channel and transmits the following message to all the others. "Or'es Shera is unconscious, so we need medical assistance ASAP at a bar called the Glided Spear at <whatever address they are at>. She was knocked out by a massive detonation of shotgun shells after a deal turned bad. All enemies are neutralized however. Navigator Sola has sustained no injuries."

[happyturtle]

Dock 17-B

Symonne watches Naithan take off. Trouble for an astropath - does Naithan really think he can take that on himself? She puts on her command voice. "Dufrane, Harkin, follow the Magos. Geligari, attend to the Laboratorium. I will notify the Lord-Captain."

Presumably she finds Timaeus either on the bridge or in the lounge of his overly luxurious suite, though he might have already been storming back out by now, since Shas'ka's message comes over the comm while she's en route. It seems Symonne isn't to be the bearer of bad news after all.

"Lord-Captain. Magos Blank, Dufrane, and Harkin have gone to provide immediate assistance." Symonne says. She touches the comm bead. "Medical, prepare an evac crew to recover one unconscious from the Gilded Spear at <address>. Security, two squads to escort medical. You need to be leaving this ship in 300 seconds, exit ramp 8-Theta," she says, naming the ramp nearest to medical. Then on another channel. "Jonny, clear 8-Θ of all traffic until medical evac team has returned with Lady Maelius." Then back to Timaeus. Odd that she didn't notify medical and security of who the injured party actually was. Or perhaps not so odd. Telling someone to go and pick up an injured psyker is unlikely to make them eager to reach their destination.

"Lord-Captain, I recommend you stay aboard and wait to see your sister's condition when she arrives. If she needs any specialist care, we'll recruit whatever talent is needed."

[Slii Arhem]

Dock 17-B -> Gilded Spear

Did Symonne not see that Naithin had his melta slung over his shoulder? Of course he thinks he can take it on when he's so well armed. Smart though her old friend may be, no one ever said he was not headstrong or foolhardy at times. If he was less so, there's no way events would have lead up to them being part of a Rogue Trader's crew.

He taps into his comm bead and broadcasts both through the skull and to Shas'ka, "I was already on my way, Shera's dog detected her distress and I took off after him. I do not have any medical training, but having dealt with these kinds of injuries before," What self respecting Magos hasn't accidentally or intentionally cooked off a massive pile of shotgun shells in a pinch? "I can tell you that you should not move her until you have something sturdy and stable to move her out on. Most of her injuries are likely internal, and disturbing them roughly could cause more damage." He pauses to consider, then adds, "Get her onto a flat table top and we can use that to carry her when I and the others arrive." It's a bar, so it should have tables, and that blast likely knocked a few apart enough that they can just remove the rest of the legs and carry it by its edge.

[Halae]

[Gilded Spear]

"That... May be a bit of a problem, Blank." Sola says. You know, due to several things having caught on fire, and spreading. It should only be a few minutes before it's a completely roaring inferno, "But we'll be as careful as we can. Just get here before the whole place burns to the ground."

Sola will go over to Shera's position on the collapsed table. Looks like the legs of it gave out when shera landed on it, so that's good. Makes this a bit easier. Sola will slip off her robe, bunch it up, and slip it under Shera's head to keep it off the hard surface. Then Sola will go about adjusting Shera's body position so that she's entirely on the table, to be easier for transport. That's the limit of what she can really do, however, given she's got no medical training, but knows at the very least that attempting to do medicine when you're not trained in it is a bad idea.

Brutus, though? He's having the time of his life. There's juicy corpses here to eat, with all the bone cracking goodness that comes with it (he loves marrow), and entrails! That things just exploded and he got to kill something is just icing on the cake, so he's going to be happy as a clam for a day or two. His wounds are already healing, of course, so he doesn't even care that he was injured.

[Lord Magtok]

Dock 17-B

Have to remain calm. Have to maintain your composure in the face of this madness. You won't do your sister any favors by raising your voice a second time today, and apparently everyone who needed to be given orders and told what to do for this emergency has already been dealt with. His grip tightens on the ceremonial, monomolecular-edged blade at his side, still encased within its scabbard. Unlikely to be withdrawn anytime soon, but it helps with his nerves, and he would surely be shaking uncontrollably without it.

"I...I told the alien to watch over them. She had the alien and the navigator at her beck and call. This shouldn't have happened; someone has to be punished for this. If she doesn't wake up..." No, Timaeus. Don't even think such things. Your journey has only just begun, the first adventure started this very day. It's too soon for your sibling to be a casualty. Everything will be fine; you just need to relax and let it all pass you by. You knew she shouldn't have gone out without armor hidden beneath her garb, but it didn't cost us anything this time, right? She'll learn from the mistake and it'll never happen again. Everything will be fine.

Now would be an excellent time for a drink, though. Nobody could possibly fault you for making that choice now, with your sister in harm's way, right? I know we said no drinks until the day was over and the ship was traversing the warp, but who cares, it's not like anyone has the authority to make you keep that promise, right? All the important business stuff has been concluded, let's just try to sneak past Symonne and have a few glasses. She can deal with everything else in your absence; it's what she's paid to do, right?

"I'll be right back," he lies, headed quite predictably towards the liquor stash.

[Shadowcaller]

[Gilded Spear]

"Rodger." Shas'ka replies curtly before she aids Sola in putting Shera in a better position.
Meanwhile the drone is keeping an eye on the other guests who probably are busy leaving considering the fire. Hopefully someone would at least be attempting to put it out though, some Gue'la's livelihood depended upon this building.

"We should carry her outside on the table. No need to keep her in here." The fire warrior then tells Sola.
She can't help but to glance at Lag however, how old was this Gue'la? Probably older than her but probably just at the start of the human life-cycle considering they lived up to at least 80 years. So in comparison he was just a little more than a child. A child that just had been killed, just like the other Gue'la younglings he had as hirelings. While she would have done it all over again it felt like all of this wouldn't have happened if Sola hadn't tried to play the role of Water Caste Diplomat with all the subtlety of a fire caste warrior.

There was a damn good reason Shas'ka had kept her mouth shut during the negotiations, it hadn't been her role. She knew she hadn't been capable of negotiating this sort of thing. But here they were with the equivalent of a air caste member having the arrogancy of attempting to do things she probably had no experience or training in whatsoever by threatening a couple of dangerous and armed thugs. And for that Shera was close to death and a couple of Gue'la younglings had been shoot down for no good reason whatsoever. They probably wouldn't even complete their deal now.

All these thoughts are hidden underneath her helmet however and she certainly wasn't going to share them with the navigator. This was neither the time nor the place. The commander would certainly would hear about it later though.

[blackouttwo]

[Dock 17B]

It isn't long before three ground cars, two each with a small armsman squad and the third bearing a small medical team, roll out from the Debitum Phantasma's stowage bays, moving with haste to reach the Gilded Spear. They pass the Magos, Dufrane, and Harkin on the way, the car in the rear stopping to give them a lift (and the pug).

The entire way there, Harkin and Dufrane are fidgety, double-checking weapons until such time as they prove necessary. It isn't common for the command staff to end up this severely injured in port. It sounds bad.

To say that it's bad would be an understatement.
------------
[The Gilded Spear]

The fire begins to spread quickly. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=B6e2XacZSIs) Cries of surprise, annoyance, and anger can be heard in the barroom in the front of the building, and the temperature inside is beginning to rise quickly. It doesn't take long to drag Shera out the back of the bar as the clientele vacate through the front. The crowd outside begins to grow as onlookers gather and patrons filter out through their choice of windows or front doors. A few people of no consequence are trampled in the rush.

The cars pull up in front. It isn't long before Shera and company are in the convoy, and the pug is reunited with its master, whom is slowly returning to consciousness. The convoy's trip back is frantic but uneventful as the medical team check Shera's vitals and begin to administer the proper first-aid and take more detailed scans with a bio-auspex.

Aside from the mutterings of the medicae personnel as they do their work, it's a silent trip back to the Debitum Phantasma.
------------
[Debitum Phantasma, Medicae Ward]

The shouts of the medics as they command corridors to be cleared and the crew to make way for the ship's wounded ring out over the rattling wheels of the medical gurney.

A few more moments, and the ship's modest, under-equipped medicae ward was playing host to the only astropath on the crew. Shas'ka's post-battle inspection didn't take long before the xenos was sent on her way. 'Bed rest', the doctor says, will be sufficient. The armor took the worst of the damage.

Shera, on the other hand...

"Vitals are declining. Give me another bio-auspex reading."

"Heartbeat seems stable enough."

"Give me another reading, dammit."

"Breath mask, now."

"Oxygen tanks ready."

"Chief Medicae Officer's Log, 135.816.M41, 2350 Hours, Shipboard Time. Patient was in close proximity to a solid-projectile ammo detonation, taking damage from the pressure shock, heat, and shrapnel. Damage is extensive. I pray to the Emperor she survives the night. Surgery and extensive application of synthskin grafts, and some modest cybernetic augmentation may be required for a return to full functionality. We've applied anesthesia to keep the patient under until we're done. She was returning to consciousness already. She's a fighter. We're awaiting initial bio-auspex readouts before we proceed with any further planning. Surgery to remove the shrapnel looks absolutely vital regardless of all else; we're already preparing for the operation. End of log."
------------
[The Next Day - Debitum Phantasma, en-route to Furibundus System Warp Translation Point]

The ship set out not long after the vessel's astropath, the Tau, and the Navigator had returned from their little excursion and as soon as Shera was confirmed alive and stable.

The price for Shera's assistance to the xenotech peddler was delivered in full a mere hour before the vessel finally got underway, courtesy of none other than a Kasballica messenger who had heard of the entire debacle at the Gilded Spear.

The bar burned to the ground; another will be in its place by the time the Debitum Phantasma returns from its voyage.

The Kasballica added a 'Get Well Soon' card to the Eldar void-armor as part of the delivery, courtesy of none other than Mr. Tocara himself.

In Footfall, every wall has eyes. The Gilded Spear was no exception.

The Debitum Phantasma is now a mere day out from Footfall, with another two or so weeks to the system's edge. Upon reaching the edge, the Warp jump would be quick enough.

Meanwhile, let's check in with the command staff and see how they feel about recent events.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

Once the Astropath is stable enough to be moved to her own quarters, she'll be found there any time someone wishes to speak with her. Her room is rather spartan compared to her brother's for the most part with just a bed, a vanity, a pair of night stands, and some thick carpeting to ward off the chill of the ship. Her bed is large however, easily able to fit three people and it has a built in canopy above it. Whenever she wishes more privacy it is a simple thing to pull a pair of chords to draw the curtains shut on her bed.

Unfortunately for anyone walking in, there is a rather excessive amount of pink to it all. At least it is soft pinks rather than the eye-searing hot or neon varieties. Those would have been a bit much, even for an eyeless astropath.

For now though, her room is marred by the presence of medical equipment monitoring her life signs and providing her with fluids. She's awake, and except for the tubes leading up to her left arm and the massive amounts of bulky bandages that are visible through her nightgown, she looks like she's in good spirits as she keeps her right arm wrapped around her dog for comfort. The 'pug' gives a low whine of worry, but once she pulls a blanket up over her lower body and him both, the dog falls asleep and starts to snore loudly.

The Astropath on the other hand looks extremely bored and casts a glance at her data-slate, far out of reach on her vanity.

"Dammit."

[Halae]

[Shera's Room]

A knock comes at the door, "Shera? Can I come in?" It's the navigator of course, "I brought snacks."

She remains outside for the moment. Sola doesn't believe she's entirely at fault for what happened, but she knows she played a part. This is a matter of dealing with the issue. plus, the way she thinks, it should have been her that got blown up. She's the one able to recover from anything short of losing a limb.

[Slii Arhem]

Laboratorium of the Phantasma

Naithin, meanwhile, has sequestered himself in the lab for the past two days, and is making headway on his personal project to have a steady supply of explosives so that next time, they'll be the ones inflicting such trauma on anyone foolish enough to cross them.

That is not to say he's callous to Shera's plight, or not feeling remorse for not being there. During a spare moment, he sends her a message over the comms, "My apologies for not being present at such an interesting event, though if it were up to me, I certainly would have preferred it to trade negotiations. I compliment you on both your recovery time and the intelligence and dedication of your familiar, who alerted us to the danger even before the tau could use her comm bead."

A short break, throughout which she can hear muffled curses and oaths to the simplistic machine spirits governing his lab equipment, and then, "If you need company, I will make a spare moment during my work." He pointedly does not chide her for not wearing protective armor. The explosion was her tutor there, and she received armor fit enough for her purposes to make up for the deficit next time as a reward for this debacle.

[happyturtle]

Symonne's contribution to She-Ra's Shera's comfort is to arrange a personal assistant service (4 fresh-faced young women, who have each been screened by Symonne to be unafraid of Shera, as far as Symonne can tell) provides someone around the clock to be available for changing bedpans, giving baths, plumping pillows, folding laundry, running errands, sharing gossip, and pretty much anything else Shera desires. If they can't do it, they'll find someone who can. All four have been very carefully ordered by Symonne that they are not to violate any of the Lady Maelius's confidences. In fact, they are not to tell the Adjutant herself anything about their service unless specifically authorized to do so by Lady Maelius, perhaps in order to help meet some exotic request or need.

During the first few days, when Shera is critical, Symonne keeps a few discreet armsmen on the deck around Shera's quarters. They're to try and delay Timaeus long enough for Symonne to be sent for if he is drunk and tries to visit the patient. However, he's still the Lord-Captain, so if he wants to see his sister right away, they can't really stop him. This is discontinued once the Astropath is generally conscious and able to handle her brother however she sees fit.

In addition to tending to the Maeliuses, she has her regular ship duties to perform, as many of the Lord-Captain's as is necessary for her to perform, and as much assistance as she is able to give to others. She is seen at all waking hours around the ship, helping prepare the Debitum for the Warp journey, and thus masking her own gnawing terror behind her unceasing work. Her Lho stick consumption creeps up daily.

Her only concession to any form of relaxation comes in a single word message to Naithan.

Scacchi

[Slii Arhem]

Laboratorium of the Phantasma

Her reply is only barely more verbose, "Laboratorium, no open flames." An invitation for her, but not her lho sticks.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

For now, the women are dismissed from the room to give Shera some private time, but when Sola knocks, she takes a glance at the door. "Come in!" She shouts. "Just grab the dataslate from the nightstand as you pass." She commands. Overall, she's quite a mess to look at right now with lots of bandages covering any part of her that's exposed. Being so close to an explosion tends to have that effect on people.

She didn't reply to the Explorator over the comm, mostly because she didn't have much that was all that pleasant to say about what she'd been through. Even if she established a useful contact and got what she wanted, the deal had gone far worse than she had envisioned or wanted.

[Lord Magtok]

Captain's Quarters

"When Saint Drusus, goes marching in
When Saint Drusus goes marching in
Holy Throne, to be in that number
When Saint Drusus goes marching in!"

Luckily for Symonne and most everyone else, Timaeus seems largely content to sit on the floor of his own quarters for the duration, drunk and miserable and sing half-remembered war hymns from his childhood. Throne, this is all his fault. He's absolutely the worst older brother in the galaxy. Everything he does, he does wrong, and the only person who ever seems to suffer for it is poor blind, hurt, warp-tainted Shera. If he still knew how to walk without falling over himself, he'd probably go there right now, and apologize for everything.

[Halae]

[Shera's Room]

In comes Sola, bearing snacks - biscuits, of a sort. And when I say 'of a sort' I mean they don't really look like them, but are clearly an attempt at making some by someone who doesn't know how to do it properly. Sola likely tried to do it herself, and these horrible little things are the result. Sola knows they taste alright though, and they smell good. They're just... not pretty in the least.

"How're you feeling?" Sola asks, carrying the biscuit tray in one hand and using the other to pick up the dataslate to cart it over to Shera, "You look pretty bad at the moment." Guilt mars Sola's features. She's left the hood of her robe down for once, showing that she's actually fairly pretty, with luscious auburn hair. You know, if you can get past the pitch black eyes and over-sharp teeth. A mixture of guilt and concern is on her face - she's rather thankful that Shera can't see her, as she can keep it out of her voice at the least.

Brutus traipses in behind Sola, currently off his leash, though his collar is still present. The big dog is immediately going to seek out the pug, intending to use the smaller canid as a plushie to go to sleep holding.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

Shera takes a piece of food out of respect and nibbles on it as she takes her dataslate from her as well. When she finds that the food isn't as bad as it looks, she continues to eat. "Thank you. And I'm alive, that's what matters. It'll be a month or so I think before I'm up and running around again though." She explains with a sigh. Contrary to what Sola believes, Shera can see, though she uses her powers to do so instead of eyes. "Besides, not like I was going to be winning any beauty contests before this." She adds.

The pug is currently on the bed, half submerged under the blankets and snuggled close to his master.

[Halae]

Shera's Room

Oh, I know. But Sola still doubts.

"I know you've got servants for this sort of thing, but if you need anything from me, let me know and I'll come over, so long as I'm not too busy." Being the navigator of a ship in the wap is kind of important after all. Sola fidgets. She wants to say something that'll help, but she doesn't know what.

Vrutus, meanwhile, intends to climb up onto the bed and snuggle up besides both Shera and the pug. He's very fluffy, but he's exhausted - Sola's been doing training exercises with him to keep him too tired to be aggressive towards people.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

"I'll be sure to let you know if I need anything." Shera says as she looks down at Brutus. "He can stay in here as long as he likes. I'll have him let out whenever he wants to go, so you don't need to worry about him." She promises, reaching out to pet the...dog.

[Halae]

[Shera's Room]

The beast huffs when a hand is placed on his head, but he leans into it anyways for the scratching. His body is a tightly corded pack of muscle covered in shaggy fur, so it's a bit like scratching a moss-covered rock, but he's being a lot friendlier right now than he usually is.

"Thanks," Sola says, "Brutus cares about you, if only because you're Fluffums' owner. He got all sulky when he realized you were hurt." Brutus isn't the most observant dog, and there was a lot going on during the combat situation.

[happyturtle]

Laboratorium

Symonne arrives, accompanied by a servitor carrying a splendid Scacchi board and a small folding table for it to sit on. While the servitor unfolds the table, Symonne hands over her Lho sticks and lighter to Naithan. "Sorry about the detonators."

[Shadowcaller]

Captain's Quarters

Once Shas'ka could heard Timaeus'o voice she knew it was a bad time for a visit, but she couldn't simply wait around the hospital bay or Shera's room anymore. She had to talk to him to make things clear. It was always a bad time to visit him now, but yet it had to be done. Or so she had been telling herself at least.
She simply stands outside for a moment before finally knocking on the door. "Timaeu- Commander? May I have a word with you?"

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

"As I said, I'll recover soon enough. I've had worse after all. Much much worse." She points out. She doesn't specify what, but the plate bonded to her face is quite obvious enough. Not to mention the horrific sanctioning process every Astropath is required to go through.

[Lord Magtok]

Captain's Quarters

"A pair of mock-Navy boots and a stubber that shoots
is the wish of Thaddeus and Zjen!
To prey on the meek and steal food for the week
is the hopes of warp-tainted men!
But they will all be crushed when our Saint Drusus comes ag-"

Timaeus ceases singing a fragment of 'We're Approaching the Feast of Our Saint Drusus' (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uGBie5pT9nw) and produces a sad sort of whining sound, once he realizes he has a visitor. Blugh, what does that stupid bruise-colored skin xenos want? Can't she tell he's busy hating himself?

"Door isn't locked, Blue."

[Shadowcaller]

Captain's Quarters

The door slowly and clunkily slides open, stopping before it's completely open which forces Shas'ka to give it a little push before she can enter the room. The xeno is out of her armor and dressed in simple gray clothing. Being out of it made her feel uncomfortable with this many Gue'la strangers about. For one thing, without her armor acting as a barrier to the rest of the world, she hard a hard time stopping herself from staring at that lump they called 'nose'. It was just the weirdest thing, it even moved. Apparently they used it to smell with, like a kroothound.

But she certainly wasn't here to talk about noses nor stare at them. In fact, that was exactly was she was going to avoid as she looked at the commander. She straightens her back and folds her hands behind her back as she addresses Timaeus'o. She's trying to look him directly in the eyes as she talks and again, not at that damn nose. "Commander, did you read my report on the events on The Glided Spear?"

She had tried to include as many details as possible with their meeting with the shopkeeper and the deal Shera had made with him. Finally how the deal had gone bad after "Sola provoked Las". She had attempted to act as a body shield to Shera but to no avail when the ammo exploded. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry of what happened. I did my best but I can't help feeling guilty even if Shera is on a steady route to recovery..." She trails off, hoping that Timaeus'o would fill the silence.

[Slii Arhem]

Laboratorium

Symonne arrives, accompanied by a servitor carrying a splendid Scacchi board and a small folding table for it to sit on. While the servitor unfolds the table, Symonne hands over her Lho sticks and lighter to Naithan. "Sorry about the detonators."

Laboratorium

Naithin places the lighter in a sealed box where it won't spark anything accidentally. The carton is just set on the table for after the match, "There is precious little I would require you to apologize for, after helping me off of Haddrack. We can find plasma detonators eventually, once our names are made and a few doors have been opened. How are our new passengers adapting to the trip?" He waits for her to make the first move, not interested in duplicity or double-plays at the moment. The game is unimportant in the face of speaking with an ally who he has not had a moment alone with since his boarding. Timaeus took far too much of her time when he wasn't a sadsack, whimpering drunkard.

[Lord Magtok]

Captain's Quarters

The door slowly and clunkily slides open, stopping before it's completely open which forces Shas'ka to give it a little push before she can enter the room. The xeno is out of her armor and dressed in simple gray clothing. Being out of it made her feel uncomfortable with this many Gue'la strangers about. For one thing, without her armor acting as a barrier to the rest of the world, she hard a hard time stopping herself from staring at that lump they called 'nose'. It was just the weirdest thing, it even moved. Apparently they used it to smell with, like a kroothound.

But she certainly wasn't here to talk about noses nor stare at them. In fact, that was exactly was she was going to avoid as she looked at the commander. She straightens her back and folds her hands behind her back as she addresses Timaeus'o. She's trying to look him directly in the eyes as she talks and again, not at that damn nose. "Commander, did you read my report on the events on The Glided Spear?"

She had tried to include as many details as possible with their meeting with the shopkeeper and the deal Shera had made with him. Finally how the deal had gone bad after "Sola provoked Las". She had attempted to act as a body shield to Shera but to no avail when the ammo exploded. "I wanted to say that I'm sorry of what happened. I did my best but I can't help feeling guilty even if Shera is on a steady route to recovery..." She trails off, hoping that Timaeus'o would fill the silence.

That hope seems terribly misplaced, as Timaeus has a whole lot of nothing to say in response, at least for the first few seconds following her awkward apology. He finally says something in response, but it just seems to be a whole lot of feeling sorry for himself.

"It was the Adju...the Adja...the Shenny's idea to leave her in the care of an alien and a mutant, but it was my foolishh decision to entrusht her safety to the two of you, on a world covered in lowborn scoundrels and thieves. She didn't even want to be off the ship in the first place. I should've kept her with me. All her troubles have been my fault."

[happyturtle]

Laboratorium

Symonne dismisses the servitor and begins setting up the Scacchi board. The set is cloisonné (http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Cloisonn%C3%A9), and clearly hand-crafted and quite valuable.

"I haven't heard any complaints." And she would be the one who would hear the complaints, if - no, when - they arrive. "How are you finding your quarters?"

[Shadowcaller]

Captain's Quarters

Shas'ka takes a deep breath as she hears the judgement. She didn't know what to expect of him in this state though. It was hard just seeing him like this and now she was getting to hear him rant as well. But it was hard for even her to feel guilty at his words in his slurred tone. Just how much had he been drinking. "Commander, I understand if you blame me, but don't blame yourself..." She replies, feeling the futility of her own words. This was a task for a water caste, not a fire warrior.

"Just look at yourself." She suddenly states in a more aggressive tone when it seemed she was about to let him fill the silence again. Her stance is the same but her gaze is suddenly much more intense. "You're a wreck commander. Or'es Shera would be ashamed if she saw you right now. Wallowing in your own imagined guilt when you haven't even talked to her yet." Shas'ka had suddenly no idea what she was doing, acting on pure instinct she simply said what came in mind without any hesitation. "How do you think she feels when her brother won't even visit her? She wants to talk to you, s..." Shas'ka stops herself before she called him something really stupid. "-Commander."

[Lord Magtok]

Captain's Quarters

"YOU DON'T EVEN KNOW!" The captain roars suddenly, throwing a half-finished bottle at the wall beside Shas'ka to punctuate his furious declaration. Holy throne, I don't think anyone's ever heard him scream like that. Not while sober, at least. There are probably some crewmembers doing their best to disappear and/or look hard at work nearby, biting their tongues and ignoring the noise to the best of their ability.

"You don't even know what I've...what-" The fire dies out fairly quickly, when he realizes he doesn't have a second bottle in arm's reach to throw at her. If he'd just been a little more untidy, and if Shas'ka were obedient enough to stand perfectly still for him, he might've gotten her on the second try. Oh well, since that's not an option, might as well think about what the stupid blue slave girl had to say.

"F-fine. Fine. I'll visit her now, if it'll shut you up. Cattle-footed cavity face..." He mumbles, as he staggers up to his feet. This goes about as well as can be expected, and he seems to realize it too, as he quickly holds out a hand towards the tau.

"Shas'ka, front and center. As your commander, I am commandeering the use of your shoulders and back as a flotation device. The ship's artificial gravity is fluctuating too much, just shut up and do it."

[Shadowcaller]

Captain's Quarters

Shas'ka blinks at the sudden outburst and her mouths opens as if to protest, but she doesn't actually move as her mind reels in shock at the loud words. She involuntarily holds her breath under that moment when it looks like Timaeus was going to throw the bottle at her. But as it misses and the air seems to go out of him her mouth closes into a firm line, causing her to swallow some of the air she just breathed in.

As he starts getting up, she blinks, allowing herself a moment of hesitation while her mind considers what just had happened before coming to his assistance. "Of-" She starts but quickly realizes he just asked her to shut up and does just that as she attempts to support Timaeus arm with her back to help him up.

[Halae]

Shera's Room

"As I said, I'll recover soon enough. I've had worse after all. Much much worse." She points out. She doesn't specify what, but the plate bonded to her face is quite obvious enough. Not to mention the horrific sanctioning process every Astropath is required to go through.[Shera's Room]

Sola nods, "Well, Call if you need anything. I should probably get back to my duties." Sola says. It's as much an excuse as it is the truth to leave. Shera is certainly someone who Sola is concerned about, but she just doesn't really want to deal with the guilt of standing in front of the injured right now.

Brutus, however, is enjoying his spot on the bed, staying just a bit out of reach of shera's burns and wounds at Sola's order, as she doesn't want him to cause unnecessary discomfort.

[Slii Arhem]

Laboratorium

"Elaborate, comfortable, functional. Squishy." The kind of thing that you could get all to used to, get soft. A luxury that could make you feel entitled to more than you're worth.

He says it without judgement, though. He's attained a level of provision that is above constantly not knowing whether the thing you're rewiring could be rigged to kill you as part of a ploy to be rid of you. That's what he values over the comfort of well appointed quarters. Well, that and the facilities If they weren't an extravagant gift to a magos made of more hind than sense, then he'd almost be inclined to thank the Omnissiah for their bounty. Whatever their origins, just the newfound ability to tinker and refine is very welcome. Creating for the sake of his own enjoyment, rather than scavenging dismantled IEDs for survival, puts a grin on his face even now.

As Symonne can no doubt tell by smell alone, he's started simple. Impact explosives bubbling in a decent sized batch, ready to go in under a week with his expert handling.

[Lord Magtok]

Captain's Quarters

As he starts getting up, she blinks, allowing herself a moment of hesitation while her mind considers what just had happened before coming to his assistance. "Of-" She starts but quickly realizes he just asked her to shut up and does just that as she attempts to support Timaeus arm with her back to help him up.

"Good girl. Hope for you yet," he mumbles, using her to support his weight and keep from swaying back to the floor. Uh oh, I think he plans on doing this for the entire walk over to Shera's room. Unless you want to spent the rest of the day complaining of back pains, it might be a good idea to try to talk him into something slightly less uncomfortable. Remember, he's drunk; he probably won't remember any minor instances of insubordination anyways.

[Shadowcaller]

Captain's Quarters

She endures for nearly five minutes before she realizes he wasn't going to support himself at all. "Commander, if you come walking like this to Or'es Sheras room she will see you as a wreck. You have to try walking on your own." She attempts to slide her arm around Timaeus'o waist, just underneath his arm to support him while attempting to maneuver underneath his arm.

[happyturtle]

Labatorium

Symonne grins, and suddenly she is Salley again. "I know! My first berth, I got the bunk in shifts, but the food... dear Omnissiah, I thought I'd never stop eating! And some of them complained! And now..." She shakes her head. "It's more than squishy. The nobility are strange, and living so closely to them is, well..." An analogy comes to mind easily. "Like handling explosives." She reaches unconsciously to a fold of her saree for the Lho sticks that aren't there - her habit is much heavier than it was back on Haddrack - and when she remembers, she exhales in noisy exasperation at herself. She moves one of her marine units to the spinward, one of her favourite openers.

[Slii Arhem]

Laboratorium

Naithin stares at the board, his face going almost slack with nostalgia. For whatever reason, he hadn't anticipated the pieces actually moving, thinking that the prop was just an excuse for another game to play out in their heads.

Of course they'd use the board, they'd used one before, before Salley was forced to abandon it and they'd started their mental games. To him, that transition had changed something about the flavor of the game, removing some of its innocence and making it more about outwitting Salley than outplaying her.

Maybe that innocence could come back. A game for children too smart for their peers, a gift, even if she'd never admit it, from street dust to an initiate curious about the game.

"Let's see, how did this go again? An average of 68 moves, somewhat weighted in your favor. Unless you've had a better opponent since you left, and you've been forced to adapt your strategies." Naithin will also move a marine, coreward though, to make way for his psyker.

[happyturtle]

Labatorium

"I haven't met many who actually play, though plenty of rich people have expensive sets on display." Salley moves her Tech-Priest, just as Naithan probably expected. "There's a shipwright on Port Wander who insists on a game whenever I pass through. Eden, the late Seneschal, insisted I throw the game, but you know how hard that is to do without insulting the other player. Eden didn't play the game, so she didn't know."

[Lord Magtok]

Captain's Quarters

She endures for nearly five minutes before she realizes he wasn't going to support himself at all. "Commander, if you come walking like this to Or'es Sheras room she will see you as a wreck. You have to try walking on your own." She attempts to slide her arm around Timaeus'o waist, just underneath his arm to support him while attempting to maneuver underneath his arm.

"If I come in walking like this, she'll think I took advantage of her condition to seduce your boots off," Timaeus snickers, though he doesn't seem to be making any effort at all to move away. In fact, while laughing hysterically, he gives her waist a squeeze, too inebriated to realize he isn't anywhere near as funny as he thinks he is.

[Shadowcaller]

Captain's Quarters

Shas'ka can't resist rolling her eyes at that comment. He wasn't nowhere as "charming" either and his squeeze only ended up infuriating her even more. "Come on, just move." The fire warrior says in a way that accidentally comes off as an order while she attempts to pull him along with her with her arm as she walks. She would get him into Shera's room if she so would have to drag him all the way.

[Lord Magtok]

Captain's Quarters => Shera's Room

The laughter dies down, and he manages to disentangle himself from the Tau and put on his 'pretending to be sober and adequately regal' face, just before they reach the door. Messing with Shas'ka is fine, and we're one step closer to finding out what color her inferior species blushes in, which I'm sure is something the Magos would appreciate, but we should really try to look like we're actually qualified to captain a ship when around family and the other members of our retinue. Don't stress our sister out by making her think she did something to hurt you when she got herself blasted like that.

[Shadowcaller]

Captain's Quarters => Shera's Room

Shas'ka noted how subdued the Commander suddenly acted but wasn't sure wherever to blame the copious amounts of Gue'la alcohol he had consumed or genuine decency. Regardless of the reason, at least didn't act like a turned on greenie anymore.

The tau steps towards the door, but before she pushes it open she took a closer look at Timaeus. While he at least now pretended he hadn't drunk himself into a stupor every day Shera had been in the hospital ward, the signs were all still there and no amount of acting was going to hide that from her.
She frowns, pursing her lips in displeasure, but what could she do about that? "Good enough I suppose." The tau comments in a resigned tone before she opens the door to let the rogue trader inside, or push him, if she so needed to.

[Slii Arhem]

Labatorium

"I haven't met many who actually play, though plenty of rich people have expensive sets on display." Salley moves her Tech-Priest, just as Naithan probably expected. "There's a shipwright on Port Wander who insists on a game whenever I pass through. Eden, the late Seneschal, insisted I throw the game, but you know how hard that is to do without insulting the other player. Eden didn't play the game, so she didn't know."

Laboratorium

She may expect him now, in return, to not make his psyker even more vulnerable in response to her action. His usual play would be more conservative and infuriating.

Instead, the psyker comes out boldly, ready to capture, but also exposed to being taken in return. "A bit of functional art and posturing, I suppose. A game with enough history that every noble must subtly proclaim themselves interested enough to own the most extravagant set, but complicated enough that none bother to actually master." Though not too complicated. Naithin, in their long time apart, learned that the basis of scacchi can be boiled down to memorization of the best possible counters. Which is why he's blatantly avoided devoting any time to memorizing them. Ruining the enjoyment of risk is practically anathema to him.

"I once had to drive a broken scacchi board into a mutant's neck, though. Out of mercy. I'm not certain I could trust a board that wouldn't break into a jagged edge after that." He's not certain why the sight of Salley, sans persona, has him admitting so many things casually.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

The Astropath looks up from her discussion with Sola when the pair walk in and she gets a slight frown. No amount of acting could hide the fact that her brother practically sloshed when he took a step. "Thank you for bringing him here, my Shas'El." She says gracefully with a nod. "If you and Sola could depart, I would like to speak to my brother alone for a bit. And I'm sorry, but Brutus needs to go for the moment too." She adds, looking back at the Navigator before shrugging. "I'd rather this was a private affair for the moment is all."

She has her own psychic familiar after all. She knows how they can be used to listen through.

"Now please, sit on the bed next to me, brother. There's plenty of space away from the tubing and medical equipment."

[Halae]

[Shera's Room]

Sola nods, and has Brutus stand and follow her, the loyal mutant grumbling as it moves, "Talk to you later then."

[Lord Magtok]

Shera's Room

Her bedside? All the way over there? Oh no, if he has to walk that far, she's sure to notice how drunk he is! He has to be sneaky about this somehow. He has to keep his inebriation a secret, move and talk and maneuver about in such a way that she'd never realize he might've had a bit too much to drink. Obviously she hasn't realized it yet, since he's been so graceful and adroit thus far, so we'll have to carefully maintain the illusion by sloooowly shifting across the room, to reduce any stumbling or swaying that could result.

All jokes aside, I think it's plainly obvious this plan isn't going to work at all.

[happyturtle]

Labatorium

At the mention of mutants, Salley goes still only for a moment, then finishes placing her piece - a Legionnaire to support her rather conservative and uninspired advance - and folds her hands, because it's a habit to do that when she catches them shaking.

"I would've gotten you word, if I could."

[Slii Arhem]

Laboratorium

"You were off world, and I was anticipating dying for helping you. It would have been simpler for those responsible for what happened if I had. Too stubborn, though. I didn't expect word to come, so there is nothing lost that it didn't. It was to our gain that we both survived, and that I heard my name being used by the seneschal of a shiny new trader's ship." Though if Timaeus keeps going the way he is, he'll be tarnished inside and out before the end of this trip.

"Techpriest to coreward 6c." He doesn't move the piece, just looking at Salley levelly. Even when they played as youth, the mental acuity to picture the board state, the gall to try to pull a fast one over on the other and claim an impossible move was all part of the game to them. He was wrong to be nostalgic for when they still had boards to play on, especially using something as far removed from the scuffed, cheap, delicate and much repaired set they did have.

[happyturtle]

Labatorium

"Inquisitor-1 to Coreward 12G," she says, not quite meeting his eyes, but not moving a piece either. Still conservative. Much more so than in the past.

"I didn't know what happened after I left. It was years before I was in a position to even find out. Haddrack isn't exactly a leading news item." She hasn't said anything about her mother. From Naithan's point of view, she went in undercover, got a few pictures to him electronically, and then vanished for years. He probably thought her dead.

[Slii Arhem]

Laboratorium

"Psyker to spinward 11F. If you're trying to explain yourself, you do not need to. I did not have regrets about what we did then, nor the consequences later. Were you still curious about what happened? I had a rather narrow view, but I could share some of the better stories." His moves are still too risky, too forward for what she remembers of him. Either a sign he's changed, or that something's wrong.

[happyturtle]

Labatorium

"A revolt. An Inquisition. Then the trail went cold." Symonne says. Yes, it's definitely Symonne speaking again. She's put her mask back up, quietly competent and intelligent, the representative of a noble family and their seemingly vast resources. She names a move, still almost frustratingly conservative. She's crafting a strong line that will be difficult to breach, but she's missing opportunities as well.

[Shadowcaller]

Shera's Room

"My pleasure, Or'es Shera." Shas'ka smiles broadly at Shera and nods before giving Timaeus a heartily but firm pat on the shoulder before he can move too far away. "You two enjoy yourself, I'm sure you have a lot to discuss." She does not stay long however as she seem to want to make sure to be out of the room before Sola who she doesn't even look at.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

The Astropath smiles back at the Tau but the smile vanishes as soon as the door is closed. "You're drunk, brother. Sit down before you fall over and don't give meany of that pride schtick. If you don't sit, I'll make you sit. Then I'll have to contact mother to tell her you're being dumb again." Her tone is gentle, slightly disapproving, but she's not really chastising him for drinking. Everyone has their way to cope.

[Lord Magtok]

Shera's Room

"Fiiiiiine," Timaeus whines, as if they were both still children, before taking a seat beside her on the bed. The jovial tone drops right out of his voice and movements as soon as he gets there, and he reaches out with one hand to grip Shera's own.

"I thought I'd lost you again, Shera. I'd listened to the low-blooded adjutant over my own blood, pushing you away to go conduct some stupid business nonsense, and the Emperor had taken you away because of my terrible decisions," he whispers, not trusting the xenos and mutant to be as out of earshot as they would have him believe.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

Shera takes a moment to get comfortable, twisting so she can lay back with her head in her brother's lap. Even though she has a plate over where her eyes should be, he'll get the feeling that she's closed them for the time being. The gesture is as much for his comfort as her own since this was a habit she'd always had when the two were seated together. She simply found him comfortable. "The failure wasn't yours, nor was it her's nor on the part of Shas'ka. The failure and fault happened the moment I got dressed and decided I didn't need the armor. I could have simply walked off if I had worn it instead of being carried out. We both know that." She says with a sigh. "Besides, people didn't react favorably with me in the bazaar for the most part. My presence would have ruined the meeting far worse than if you had shown up with guns pointed at our host."

[Lord Magtok]

Shera's Room

"You overestimate the effect you have on people," Timaeus insists, giving her hand a squeeze.

"Doubtless it was cavalry hooves and carcharodon teeth that had the streets' cretins spooked. I swear, she must have one of the crew sharpens those with a nail file when nobody's around, they were not that sharp when she first came aboard this vessel." So he says, but I'm sure he had at least a little amasec in preparation for that first meeting, and may have let a few otherwise frightening details slip by him before deciding to add Sola as the Debitum Phantasma's navigator.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

The hand squeezes back even as Shera shakes her head. "No, she got answers at least. I was on the verge of being shot. Maybe it was because Shas'ka was with me, but I don't think it was only that, brother." She admits with a sigh. "You should never have spent so much finding me. I was surviving on my own on Dusk and I'm just going to be a burden on you."

[Lord Magtok]

Shera's Room

"What worth could all the throne gelt in the galaxy hold, if it could not pluck my beloved sister out from that chaos-tainted wasteland? Besides, you didn't see Tocara's face when he realized there was a dog at the meeting table. He flew into such a rage that he never even noticed the mislaid decimal point in our favor on our shipping contract, or that the expenses to be covered were written with a moderately larger vessel in mind. I had to bite my tongue for ten minutes until I could be sure the entire Mission wouldn't hear me laughing hysterically." Timaeus grins.

[UncleWolf]

Shera smiles a bit but doesn't tell him she was able to see the entire thing through her familiar's eyes. "It sounds like it was quite a sight." She says quietly, thankful for the change in subject but also wishing she could have argued the point. Her brother had always been the more sentimental one, but it was good to see he hadn't changed that much. "Now lay back and sleep so I can too. We'll both feel better after some rest."

[Lord Magtok]

Shera's Room

"Fine, but if I awake covered in dog saliva, Fluffles gets only standard crew rations for a month," Timaeus warns, as he reluctantly lays back. His own bed isn't that far, it's just down that hall he came here through! He could probably, maybe get back there without the tau girl's help, possibly!

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

"Deal. He needs a diet anyway." Shera says before grabbing a pillow and setting it under her head. "Now be silent and let me sleep." She commands him before quickly falling silent. A few moments later, soft snores can be heard from her, working in tandem with her sleeping pug.

[blackouttwo]

[1930 Hours, Debitum Phantasma Shipboard Time, en-route to Furibundus Warp Translation Point, 334.2 Hours out of Footfall, 149.816.M41]

The trip to the Warp point at the edge of the system is uneventful; a few routine augur-sweeps by the bridge crew and augury teams every few hours while the techpriests in the enginarium ensure the trip takes the least amount of time feasible and divert power to allow for course adjustments. Maneuvering thrusters and plasma drives burn, and while the Debitum Phantasma bids Footfall farewell for the time being, the port's traffic never slows.
----------------------------
The shipboard intra-vox transmissions are, as ever, abuzz with excitement (and some small amount of trepidation) as the Debitum Phantasma makes its way to the edge of the system.

"Trimming drive output to minimal thrust."

"Uh, copy Enginarium, this is maneuvering control. Firing port thrusters at point-two-five-three strength. Adjusting course to starboard side...thirty degrees, over."

"Affirmative, maneuvering. Helm, what's it looking like out there?"

"Hitting the translation point in an hour."

"Affirmative, helm, maintaining course."

"Someone ought to go wake the Navigator and tell the Lord-Captain we're almost there-"

"Not it."

"Not it."

"Dammit."
----------------------------
[Bridge]

The stars of the Expanse spread out in front of you from the bridge oculus, almost like a piece of artwork painted for the sake of it. The bridge is a hive of activity among the hundred or so bridge officers and servitors wired into various command consoles, barking out orders, listening intently on vox headsets, or reciting minute changes in the output of the plasma drives as the ship finally prepares for its Warp translation.

"Captain, Enginarium needs final confirmation to cut plasma drive output and cycle to zero-"

"Vox line ninety-two is getting some static, someone get a maintenance team to fix the relay before we translate. Ought to take thirty minutes at most-"

"No anomalous readings in nearby space, Captain, augury teams report we're green-light for translation-"

"Plasma drive output down by one-point-three-dash-five-five-one-dash-three-fifty-dash-one-two..."

"All passengers and assets in stowage bay reported as secure, Captain-"

"Gun decks report all munitions stowed and ready for transit-"

The buzz of activity slowly dies as every officer, slowly but surely, makes their individual status reports and double and triple-checks all of their responsibilities aboard the ship.

All is in readiness.

Naturally, knowing the Warp, that's not a particularly comforting fact. But all is in readiness nonetheless.

Vox-officer Moranik finally rises from his seat on the lower level of the bridge, looking up to the Lord-Captain's command throne, vox-headset in hand. The old voidfarer's face is scarred from battles and mechanical accidents that date back to the beginning of the previous captain's reign, with one eye replaced by a crude bionic implant. If there's a man on this ship that knows what he's doing, it's Moranik, and he's tacitly assumed a position beneath the command staff as the designated spokesman for much of the crew's officer corps. "Captain, all hands report ready for translation. Orders?"

[Halae]

[Sola's Rituals]

Upon being woken from sleep, Sola mutters something about inappropriate timing, and keeps Brutus (barely) from killing the crewman who woke her. A deep sleeper, Sola hates being wrenched from her dreams like this, but she has a job to do. So she quietly gets up and goes to the desk in her room while ordering the crewman who woke her to fetch one of the small they'd picked up as part of their supplies. It doesn't matter which one, and is in fact better if he picks them out based on which one looks most vicious at the time.

Taking out a set of Grox knuckle bones meant specifically for this purpose, the navigator looks at her board, sitting there on the desk. It's a fairly large thing, built in the semblance of a primitive combat arena for reasons she was never privy to. Still, it's how she learned to do it, and that's not going to change now.

She casts the bones, and reads the faces that come up. "Sonan... warp reef? No, with Koruus it's better than that... quick streams? And with Cuvell... Good. Excellent, even." She smiles, and goes to get dressed then. There was still two more rituals to do - one could be fooled, maybe two, but three was next to impossible.

When the crewman returns, Sola will be dressed in her nobilite robes once more, and ready to take a ritual knife to the gut of the small animal that was grabbed for her. When it's gutted, she tosses the entrails at the wall, and then traces the blood pattern with her finger. And then she licks the blood off, partially just to get a reaction out of the crewman who woke her, and partially because the tang of blood helps wake her. Satisfied with the pattern as it stands, she heads over to the crewman, and grabs him by the arm, "And now, you help me with the third ritual."

Of course, there's stories. She's a navigator, after all, they're all deranged mutants, right? And with this sharp teeth and pitch black eyes, what could happen? A friend of a friend always knows Verus down on deck ten whose hair went white and he never talked again! Nobody ever really sees him, but still.

But, instead of some doom ritual, Sola merely opens a porthole and says "Look out the window. Tell me what constellations you see. Whatever first comes to mind." Regardless of his answer, Sola will nod thoughtfully, going "Mhm. Interesting." And then she'll do what is possibly the most terrifying thing of them all, after the last few parts - she'll give him a kiss on the cheek! "Thanks, you've been a help. Get back to your duties now," and then she's off towards the bridge.

[The Bridge]

"Lord-Captain, the Auguries aren't just good, they're superb. Now is the perfect time for warp translation. Please quash any omens going about among the crew, and I can get started defining the route we'll take." Sola says, entering the bridge and heading towards the Navigator's Station.

[happyturtle]

Bridge

Symonne is chain smoking her Lho sticks, and muttering prayers to the Omnissiah, while trying to stay out of the way. She's trying to keep a look of piety on her face instead of panic, but that's probably not working at all. She's terrified of the Warp, and everyone on the bridge has probably heard enough of the rumours to guess why.

This is not her finest hour.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

The first few days of recovery pass by quickly for Shera as she's visited repeatedly and reads to distract herself, but as the first week ends, she begins to turn away visitors, sounding more bored and hopeless to her newly acquired attendants. She moves less and less and spends more time simply staring at the ceiling as they women wash and treat her. By the middle of the second week, the Astropath has gone at least a couple days without speaking at all and while she's physically getting healthier and recovering from the blast, her skin grows pale and she seems to shrink within herself as bitterness and self-loathing at her foolishness and situation begin to set in. If she couldn't even get out of bed without risking her treatment, what use was she going to be to her brother and his ship? The simple act of sending an Astropathic Message in her state could set back her recovery for weeks if she wasn't careful.

Each morning, the attendants will find that she's covered in cold sweat from fitful nights of sleep, and sometimes even find a thin layer of frost on metal around her. She offers no explanations of such however and it fades quickly enough not to be a bother for longer than a moment.

Eventually, she simply lays there, not speaking at all and moving only to sit up to eat or drink what's given to her. Aside from those brief moments, there was no sign of her being awake at all except for her right hand continually holding her dog close and slowly rubbing his temples to soothe any distress he might feel.

[Lord Magtok]

The Bridge

Unlike the Navigator, Lord Captain Timaeus Maelius doesn't look any the worse for the inopportune awakening. He's no stranger to a lack of proper bedrest, what with his habits and all, and in fact, that nap with his sister was probably the best thing for him, and perfectly timed, even if he was freezing cold and inexplicably terrified of mists for the first two minutes after he got up.

He waves a hand dismissively towards the Navigator and her concerns. "Already done. I had one of the crew's children recite some poetry, and recorded it for this occasion. Vox recording should start in just a minute, provided Moranik knows what he's doing. It's around the right time of year, so this should suffice to keep everyone's spirits uplifted and minds suitably distanced from immaterial. The same crewman's son has been chained to the gellar field for the duration of just in case, though, so we should be fine. Ladies and gentlemen, please stand."

'Twas the night before Emperor's Day,
and he fought all alone,
in a four foot deep trench
lined with plasteel and stone.

I was traveling the warp
with gifts for the land,
when I saw this lone guardsman
making his brave stand.

I looked all about,
I looked near and far,
no Chimera, no Basilisk,
nor Techpriest or Commissar.

No Sergeant yelled orders
to this guardsman - no backing
to fight this ridge full of xenos
formed from pure evil, attacking.

His armor in tatters,
his eyes nearly blind,
A sobering truth
raced through my mind.

His position was doomed,
was my only thought
and this soldier's brave stand
would all be for naught.

The guardsman stared unblinking,
silent and alone,
his lasrifle at the ready
against his shoulder bone.

His gaze was so calm
in the face of calamity,
the perfect picture of
a guardsman of humanity.

Who was this brave hero
whose position I'd spied,
warring against
this unstoppable tide?

I now knew that all humans
I would see this night,
owed their lives to these guardsmen
who were willing to fight.

Soon all round the galaxy
the children would play,
and grownups would praise
the bright Emperor's Day.

They all lived their lives
every month of the year,
Because of brave guardsmen
like the one standing here.

A tear came to my eye
for those who stood alone,
on a cold Emperor's Day Eve
on a planet far from home.

Their great sacrifices
I could never betray
So I drew my burning sword
to join in the fray

The soldier did turn
and I heard a rough voice.
"My Emperor, rest easy,
this death is my choice;

I fight for a freedom
that may never be found,
but not ever shall I waver
on Your sacred ground."

Then the Guardsman turned
to face the incursions
of the foul xenos and
their unholy perversions

I kept watch for hours,
until the night was still
and the guardsman lay broken
on the bloody red hill.

I could not just leave
on that cold grim dark night,
this guardian of honor
so willing to fight.

And as the guardsman lay dying,
his soul strong and pure,
he cried, "Ave Imperator!
It's Emperor's Day! This world is secure!"

I kneeled before the fallen,
A great victory he'd won.
"Happy Emperor's Day my guardsman,
rest in peace, my son."
(source) (http://www.heresy-online.net/forums/showthread.php?t=77363)

Once that's over and dealt with, with the unintended consequence of making Shas'ka most likely feel really uncomfortable, wherever she is, Maelius turns towards Moranik. "Prepare for translation into the warp, Vox-Officer," he orders.

[Halae]

[The Navigation Station]

Sola sits down in her station, an isolated part of the bridge removed from everyone else to avoid the risk of causing them to be affected by the opening of her third eye. she briefly checks for the signs that the gellar field has been thrown up. Even with the gellar field present, the warp eye bathes the area around her in chaotic energy, and she looks with her pitch black eyes at the chart laid out before her, her warp eye tracing the same route in the immaterium.

Sola reaches into her robe and pulls out a small imperial symbol made of iron. It had been her father's before he was turned away from the path, and how he plied the warp safely. She quitly slips the string it's on around her neck, and mutters "The emperor protects" under her breath. A bit of a prayer for the emperor to see them safely through the voyage.

"Captain," Sola says through her Comm bead, sounding far more official than usual, "Barring complications, we should arrive at our destination in the space of less than two months. It is time we left this place. Begin Translation." She sounds oddly distant. Perhaps that's due to looking into the warp.

[Sola's Perceptions]

What Sola sees is not the unbridled warp, but a filtered version presented to her by her warp eye. it's a great ocean, everything tinged the color of green. The ship is a whale swimming along the currents, the dappled beams of sunlight coming down from above to illuminate the path. And far in the distance is a shining star, an underwater sun. The Astronomican. Of course there are things around the ship - Sola knows what they are. Creatures of the immaterium. They show up to hr perceptions are more oceanic creatures, very simple things. She knows that's not what they look like, not truly, but a filtered, safe version for her mind. She can accept that.

[Shadowcaller]

[Shas'ka's room]

The worst thing about space travel was the wait, and the worst part of waiting onboard a Gue'la ship was that there was hardly anything to do. Everyone here was a stranger who avoided her at every turn. It was better than when just just had boarded the ship for sure but she never thought most of these Gue'la would ever really accept her as part of the crew. She had heard the whispers, like she was "slave" to Timaeus'O.

She didn't listen, she refused to listen, instead she spend most of her days in her own room doing sit-ups, pull-ups and dips only interrupted by food breaks and the occasional tour around the ship. But no matter what she did she knew that she'd end up crazy without social contact, any contact. But the only she really could talk to was Shera and she was not in a very good mood right now.

As she's doing another push-up, her train of thought is interrupted by the sudden vox transmission. She stops, listening closely. This was what Gue'la listened too? Of all the music they could have played, they choose this one? It sounded more tragic and old-fashioned than upbeat. More of their brainwashing perhaps?
Couldn't they listen to fun music? Music you could dance to. The only one who'd ever dance to this probably already had one foot in the grave. Now she just felt like shooting something in the face.

In fact, that's exactly what she was gonna do. Well, except maybe without the face part. She was going to take a trip to the shooting range, just to focus on something else for a while and get that horrible song out of her head.

[blackouttwo]

[Bridge]

Moranik bows at Timaeus's command, and turns to sit in his seat at the vox-caster controls. "Enginarium, this is the bridge. We are clear for Warp translation, over." Most of the bridge crew begin to quietly mutter desperate prayers to the Emperor under their breath, make the sign of the aquila across their chests, or bow their heads in silent prayer.

Viewports begin to seal as the vessel's gellar field engages, a crackling hum filling the entire ship as the machine spirits are placated. A brief flash of twisted, purple light and immaterial energies can be seen through the lower half of the sealing viewport as it closes.

As the crackling rift in reality is torn open by the Warp drive, the Debitum Phantasma enters the Immaterium. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=YLdsfZrZ8UI) With a sound akin to the howling of the souls of the damned permeating the vessel's interior for a few brief moments before the gellar field silences them, the bridge crew brace themselves as the vessel suddenly lurches forward into the rift.

"Translation successful."

[Slii Arhem]

Laboratorium - Five Days Into the Warp

That is likely the first time anyone, but for a terrified crewman instructed to deliver foodstuffs in a full void suit, will think to check on the lone Magos taking up a near permanent residence in the Laboratorium. And as his next batch of highly volatile explosives nears its conclusion, it will be said that for some unspecified reason, he scarcely even noticed the translation to the warp. Apparently, none of his experiments did either as blocks of cooled demo charges form a pile against one wall, and the vats of specially mixed Melta fuel and precisely prepared bomb casings are very close to their own fruition. He is, of course, available to take requests from the command staff for potentially more practical weaponry, or even from their passengers if they wish to barter for his services in maintaining their equipment to peak efficiency standards.

[Lord Magtok]

The Filthy Xenos Quarters

Later on, a set of knuckles raps itself against the doorway to the alien's room. "Knock knock. Hi Shas'ka. When you're done with...whatever it is you're doing in there, would you mind taking a walk, join me in saying hello to our guests? One of them is a xenographer. I'm sure she'd love to meet you, discuss tau culture, maybe lend you a hand in understanding our own?"

He tucks his hands in his pockets, and rocks forwards and back on the balls of his feet, waiting quietly, before another thought occurs to him, which might convince Shas'ka, if his mentioning the xenographer didn't.

"Also I'm sober this time around? There's that. I don't know if that makes a difference to you, but I think it might've caused a problem last time," Timaeus offers nonchalantly, having apparently forgotten all about the bottle he nearly hit Shas'ka in the head with, when he was too busy wallowing in a puddle of self-loathing and foul-smelling whiskey to go visit his sister.

[Shadowcaller]

The Filthy Xenos Quarters

The reply Timaeus gets after a few minutes of wait is in a tone unusually peppy for the fire warrior. "Wait, wait just a minute..." She opens up, revealing that she's dressed in parts of her armor, though little underneath it. She leans against the doorway, looking unsure what to say. Timaeus might be able to smell the scent of alcohol about her however. "Uh, that sounds nice and all but I might not be completely sober though commander. I don't usually drink one duty but I think being in mont'au calls for it, right?" She finally replies, smiling back at him. "Didn't figure anyone would visit me while..." She waves her hand at him. "All this stuff." She pauses. "Shera said you were alright though so I don't blame you for that glass you threw at me. You were drunk." He can hear that her voice slurs slightly, but she can't really be that drunk, yet.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Quarters

When Jocelyn gets on shift, the warp transitions and she'll hear the Astropath gasp and arch her back when it happens before sitting up abruptly and going into a coughing fit. As she coughs, the woman's frame shrinks, her muscles shrinking in atrophy, but that doesn't seem to bother her for at the end, she looks at the attendant with a small smile. "Sorry. Transition always does this to me. I'll be fine when we return to real space." It's likely the most words she's said in the past few days and the fact she's speaking so much seems to make the pug bounce around in joy, racing around the room and giving a small puppy pounce towards the attendant before he continues on his way.

Shera swings her feet off the edge of the bed and gives a small wince as she gets off of it. "If you could, I need these excessive bandages and IVs off of me." She says, leaning heavily on the bed as her ill-used muscles scream at her for moving. "And I'm going to need help getting dressed. After that, I require something hot to eat and I need to see Symonne. And one more thing. Jocelyn? Thank you. I won't forget this."

[Lord Magtok]

The Filthy Xenos Quarters

This is strange, new, and unexpected. Three qualities Timaeus normally loves to find, if his motley crew of serpentine seneschals, explosive-obsessed explorators, newbie navigators with absolutely no credentials, portentous and wicked witches, and now alcohol-consuming aliens is anything to go by. He's not so happy about it now, though. He's not mad, of course. How could he be mad at the alien for following his own poor example? He is, however, quite disappointed. The fire warrior's presence was supposed to impress the xenographer, to make up for that little traffic incident which occurred when they were loading things into the ship, and possibly add another notch or two onto his bedpost. If he shoves Shas'ka before the scholar in her current state, the last thing she'll feel is impressed. There certainly won't be any notches on any bedposts or generous amounts of praise in her Kasballica report either, that's for damned sure.

"Lately I've been making time for all the bizarre and unsociable members of the crew, actually," he explains, certain that she won't remember him saying that, if she's even in a state to understand the jab at all. It's certainly not a lie; he's already visited Shera and Sola. I'm not sure if Naithan is strange enough to count for that list of weirdoes, but I know Symonne isn't. Symonne is the stone-hearted weathering this sea of eccentricity and the peculiar. Symonne is so dreadfully plain and mundane I can't imagine anything interesting or alarming going on with her, wherever she is now. :smalltongue:

"How much have you had to drink, anyway? We'll be in transit for at least a month, you can't expect to be plastered the entire voyage. And when did I throw a...nevermind. No, I'm sorry Shas'ka, but this doesn't work for me at all. I have all these things to oversee and monitor later, the daily meetings with the chief chirurgeon about Shera's condition, and the review of our drills with the infernus master, my own tragic descents into inebriation, and I won't have time for this again until next week, and that'll be far too late. No, she'll be enthusiastic at first, but then she'll ask why I'd kept you hidden for so long, and y'know what? I won't have a good answer for that! I won't be able to explain how this strange turn of events came to pass, a-and..." Timaeus catches himself before he can lose his calm. It's fine. He was born into wealth, and has the elegance, poise, and eccentric charms to go with it. There is no problem he cannot solve merely by insisting that it is, in actuality, no longer a problem, and then waiting for reality to panic and scramble until it has caught up with his view of the situation.

"Come on. I'm sure there's a lavatory with a sink available around. We'll wash your filthy mouth out, you'll change into some clean clothes, maybe chug some recaf on the way, and if she's still suspicious after all that, we'll say your kind are just naturally that smelly. She studies dead xenos, she's not going to know the difference!" he insists with a confident laugh, intruding upon the alien's quarters in search of running water. Was that something that was only available in the captain's quarters? Did she share the same washrooms as the crew, or with another member of his retinue? Ugh, he could never remember little details like that when it mattered. He'll drag Shas'ka along to find out either way, though. This is obviously the best plan, and nothing can stop him from bringing it to fruition.

[happyturtle]

Warp Transition

At least the Warp transition went smoothly, thank the Omnissiah... Symonne thinks with a sigh of relief, and she pulls out another Lho stick. As she goes to light it, she catches the sight of her arm, where her sari has pulled back, and quickly lowers her arm again before anyone else can see the folds of skin that don't belong on arms so thin.

It wasn't supposed to happen to me! They didn't do anything to me!

What if that's what they wanted me to think?

What if they'd been experimenting on all of us longer than we thought?

Breathe in. Breathe out. Stay calm. Today, Salley is playing the part of a Seneschal to a Rogue Trader. She is relieved to have completed transition safely, so...

"With your permission, Lord-Captain, I'd like to go to my quarters to give thanks to the Omnissiah for a successful Transition," she says, her voice even. She doesn't wait for a


~ mutationmutationmutation ~

reply, slipping away before anyone can guess that she's hiding anything. It's all she can do not to give in to animal instinct telling her to run and leap into the crevices and ductwork, find a place to hide that's far far away from anywhere that Symonne would be discovered. But no. Symonne Locke has resources that Salley doesn't. If the worst has happened, if there is


~ Mother, my mother ~

something wrong, then it can be dealt with. Removed. Hushed up. Before she reaches her quarters, she can feel it, like the feel of a blindfold, of a veil, and it's so obvious - why didn't she find it when they were on Footfall where she could have made discreet inquiries, paid ridiculous sums of money, and still, maybe


~ Take it off I can see you see you see you ~

had it all go wrong, and been hunted, killed, vivisected. And when she finally reaches her own quarters and tears off her left sleeve, an alien eye stares at her.





Shera's Quarter's

"Lady Maelius! I think you should sit still for a few minutes before you try to move," Jocelyn says. Being an NPC, and therefore boring, she doesn't get any warp effects. Maybe she's void-born.

[Shadowcaller]

The Filthy Xenos Quarters

Shas'ka quickly straightens herself up as Timaeus starts to scold her. "Two bottles! I'm not drunk!" She attempts to defend herself in the very middle of the Lord-Captains speech of all things. "Let me just take a shower, I'll be done in five." The tau then says after a moment or two when it seems like he isn't going to listen to her anyway.

Shas'ka's room is spartan, just one room and a bathroom that are barely furnitured besides a bed, a table and some chairs. It looks rather clean besides the remaining pieces if armor (including her helmet) laying on the floor as Timaeus enters. "There is really no need for you to come inside." She protests while moving to block his access to her room. "This will be done a lot faster if you wait outside."

[Lord Magtok]

The Filthy Xenos Quarters

He steps back, sighs, and allows Shas'ka to close the door. "Fine. Six hundred Terran seconds. If you're not done by then, that will be quite unfortunate, as I'll be dragging you out to the xenographer regardless."

Two bottles. Could be worse, but then, she might also be a pathetic lightweight. Shas'ka isn't the brawniest individual he's ever met, and Emperor only knows if her organs are even capable of processing alcohol. For all Timaeus knows, her delicate xenos physiology might be succumbing to the human ale at this very moment, and she could be quietly expiring on the other side of this door. Throne, if she dies, he hopes she didn't get those bottles from his supply. That's the last thing he needs, his slave bodyguard hired gun whatever-she-is, binging on his liquor and providing an appropriately karmic reflection of his own inadequacies. His sister would be so mad at him, too.

[Shadowcaller]

The Filthy Xenos Quarters

Whatever scenarios Timaeus is dreaming up while he waits, most of them are probably proven false when Shas'ka opens the door once again in less than the time he agreed on. She's dressed in casual clothing, a simple t-shirt and pants as usual. "Let's go." She states dryly. "I'm not doing anything besides talking though."

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

"Fine, but only if you help me get all this stuff off of me." Shera tells the attendant before sitting on the edge of the bed. She's glad to be sitting again, even thankful, but she didn't want to stay in this room too much longer. "I hate to say this, but you may have to help me into the shower as well. I want running water for once rather than buckets and cloths."

[happyturtle]

Shera's Room

"Don't be embarrassed, my Lady. Temporary disability is a normal life experience," Jocelyn says. She has a gentle, but competent touch as she removes bandages. "You shouldn't have wasted so. Not in such a short time."

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

"It is merely an effect of Warp Travel. It will fade in time or vanish all together once we reach Real-Space." She tells the woman. Underneath the bandages her wounds are practically healed. It seems between the chiurgeon and the attendants, she's been able to recover far more quickly than she might have had otherwise.

[happyturtle]

Shera's Room

Jocelyn's tut-tuts over her. Of her four attendants, she's the most competent at basic nursing skills, and soon she has the bandages off. She insists on checking pulse and blood pressure before helping Shera to the shower, but assuming those are within normal range, she'll help the Astropath shower, putting on a plastic apron to protect herself from any splashing. Other than the faceplate, it isn't that much different helping Shera than it is anyone else she's been in charge of.

Unless anything unexpected is likely to happen, feel free to godmod Jocelyn's assistance in showering, dressing, eating, and whatever else she needs.

[Lord Magtok]

The Filthy Xenos Quarters

Whatever scenarios Timaeus is dreaming up while he waits, most of them are probably proven false when Shas'ka opens the door once again in less than the time he agreed on. She's dressed in casual clothing, a simple t-shirt and pants as usual. "Let's go." She states dryly. "I'm not doing anything besides talking though."

"There are captains who would consider that sort of harmless backtalk insubordinate, Shas'ka. They'd make a public example of you with the knotted cords of rope, flogging you in plain sight of the crew. Six, maybe lashes, depending on their mood that day." Timaeus explains with a sigh, as they walk down the hallway towards the guests' portion of the ship.

"Now, I'm not one of those captains, and throne knows I would never want to be one of those captains. They're churlish, hypersensitive children if that's all it takes to set them off. That seems to be the norm throughout the Imperium though, if my Uncle and the Navy are anything to go off of. When it's just us or the team, your sass is not just tolerated, it's welcome, Shas'ka. I like having extra opinions and perspectives around to enhance my own. Around anyone we are diplomacizing or people we expect to survive long to tell stories about us, they're going to start wondering why I haven't put big ugly scars down your back, especially if you're a xenos. 'I promised my sister I wouldn't hurt her pretty xenos friend' isn't going to cut it with them."

"Plus, you were drinking...what, 816.M41, 815.M41 bottles? Those ones are rubbish. I've got a few 798.M41s stashed in my room. That's the good stuff, the spectacular stuff, even. One of them's yours, if this goes well. You have my word as Lord-Captain of this vessel. You don't have to do any more than talk to her, nothing you don't want to. Just make sure she think I'm the most wonderful, fantastic commander you've ever had, and I'll make sure that story isn't so far from the truth. Deal?" Timaeus whispers conspiratorially, attempting to wrap an arm around the fire warrior's shoulder.

[Shadowcaller]

The Filthy Xenos Quarters

Shas'ka gives Timaeus a worried look as he mentions flogging. Gue'la commanders were really that barbaric?
But she doesn't let it distract her, he was after all of a rather different character. Otherwise he wouldn't even have let her stay on the ship. He was just so much more reasonable while sober and she hadn't had a chance to talk to him alone like this in a while. "I- understood, of course commander." She replies with a nod as he mentions more booze. She just had to keep cool and let this Gue'la earth caste ask her some stupid questions. But she couldn't resist asking her own questions first.
"Tell me though." She continues in the same tone considering the nature of her question.
"Are gue'la afraid of tau since we look like you? In my kau’ui we kept gue'vesa and tau apart since some were afraid there might be relationships building between them, and not just the brotherly and sisterly one either. But you still heard rumors..." She pauses, letting him considering this for a moment.

[Lord Magtok]

Debitum Phantasma's Hallways

Timaeus nearly trips when he realizes exactly where Shas'ka is going with this. What a good thing he didn't, because with his arm around her, that very easily could've ended with both of their faces hitting the floor. He clears his throat, and tries to set the record straight.

"Not quite. The Imperium of Man hates the xenos because it believes that the entire galaxy and everything in it rightfully belongs to our almighty Emperor's chosen people, mankind. It believes the alien has stolen resources, planets, and star systems that belong to our people. This is the case with every world, regardless who was there first, or whether that planet has any actual value at all. Whether those who choose to ignore the Imperial Creed engage in relationships with the various alien species, or are even capable of doing so, is largely irrelevant. Anyone speaking to the xenos is already as good as dead to most; anything else they do on top of that isn't worth worrying about, so long as they're executed in a fire at the first available opportunity." He explains, very casual about the whole 'there are countless Imperial citizens who would brutally murder us both for having this discussion' thing. Pfft, he's rich, what are they going to do to him?

[Shadowcaller]

Debitum Phantasma's Hallways

That was a bit harsher than expected, but she had heard similar stories from the Gue'vesa so she couldn't doubt it. This Gue'la empire was as a whole were as stubborn and brutal as a Be'gel. There was simply no way to argue with it. It made the Gue'la onboard this ship much greater in comparison.
The tau remains silent for a moment as she considers all this. "Bit harsher than how we do it." She finally admits, as she turns her head as if looking around for potential spies before looking back at Timaeus. "But then what made you spare me? You must be taking risks even as a commander. My people banished their greatest hero and that makes me wonder what your people could do to you."

[happyturtle]

Symonne's Quarters

She left her station shortly after Warp translation. Then she hadn't been seen. Jocelyn reports to Shera that she's unable to find the Seneschal. She isn't in her quarters or answering messages by comm bead. None of the ship's crew is trying all that hard to find her. She's cursed, they say. The Monmouth was lost with all hands, but somehow the Seneschal survived? When the Lord-Captain's own uncle didn't? The void drove him mad, he blew his own brains out. No, it was his heart. No, he hadn't gone mad. Didn't you ever notice what gun the Seneschal carries? Let's just say it didn't belong to her before she was lost in a saviour pod with the late Lord-Captain, Emprah bless his soul. The crew's conclusion is that it'd serve her right if a warp monster had reached out and claimed her, and there wouldn't be any tears shed.

Through all of this, no one has actually checked Symonne's quarters. And the hours (and days?) continue to pass....

[Lord Magtok]

Debitum Phantasma's Hallways

"They could kill me and everyone on this ship in a fire, Shas'ka," Timaeus answers, as if it's the most obvious thing in the world. Seriously, does she not know this stuff already? Seems pretty elementary to him; you get caught committing heresy and then people try to set you on fire for it. Nice and tidy and simple, just like the Inquisition prefers.

"Now, obviously I can't speak for the rest of the Imperium on this, or even the other people aboard this ship, but I do what I do, knowing full well that I am risking the Inquisition's ire for things up to and including sparing your life, for one very simple, elegant purpose: trade. You are, of course, already familiar with the beautiful simplicity of trade, yes Shas'ka? It's a wonderful, amazing concept, but it's so easy to take for granted, and so many people do exactly that. Here, since we've still got quite a walk ahead of us, I'll explain it as my tutors did." Indeed they do. Hopefully they reach the guest quarters by the fire warrior's next post; Timaeus's legs are already tired from walking all the way to Shas'ka's dingy little corner of the ship.

"Okay, so Mrs. Lucretia Vorche, a poor mother of three young boys on a quiet agrarian world somewhere, she goes into the market one day to buy food to feed her hungry children. Are you following so far? She offers some of the throne gelt, those are coins we use in the Imperium that have a set value of about twenty bullets, or a fifth of the value of the crew's standard rations, but don't tell them that, anyways, she offers some of the throne gelt she earned sweeping floors in a local church for the last few weeks to a farmer, and in exchange, she receives a crate of fruit to last her a few days. Tell me Shas'ka, who is richer than when they started after that deal is made? The farmer, or Mrs. Vorche?

The answer is, surprisingly, both. The farmer is richer, because he has sold some of his surplus fruit, and can now take that money and hand it to the carpenter, to have something done about that hole in his roof. Mrs. Vorche is richer, because she and her boys eat another week, and all it took was some of that useless, completely inedible currency of hers, which would have done nothing for her, had she not spent it here. Two people engaged in an exchange of goods, and both left feeling happier for having done so. Three people even, if you count that carpenter, who will surely spread the joy further by spending his new coins on something else, after he's done performing that service for the farmer." A nice story, with a happy ending, but not a very plausible one. If Mrs. Lucretia Vorche is as poor as Timaeus says, she'd probably would be buying corpse-starch, or some other gross, unappetizing glop for sustenance, not fresh fruit from a local farmer. She also wouldn't be making nearly enough money to support her and her children by sweeping floors; she'd probably have to sell one of the kids, or sell her body on the streets at night. Timaeus makes no mention of that kind of trade, though. He also doesn't mention what happened to Mr. Vorche, either. Probably nothing good.

"That is trade at it simplest, Shas'ka. Two parties making an exchange, each offering only what they feel their desire is worth, and both wind up better for it. Our business is the accumulation of wealth, goods, and services, for the express purpose of making these trades on a much larger scale, all throughout the known galaxy. Now, before you ask, no, if I just gave everything away, I'd soon have nothing, and I'd have hardly made any sort of dent in the cosmos at all. Trade not only helps others, it helps us. It allows the Maelius dynasty to grow, to extend our influence to such a degree that, over time and with a bit of luck, we can aid so many more with unimaginably vast quantities of goods and services. Even if I sold the ship and its crew and donated the proceeds to every single impoverished man, woman, and child I could find, and then offered up all my vital organs to be transplanted into the sick or dying, it would still not come close to the good I could accomplish through years of trade across the galaxy, which is exactly why I don't do that kind of nonsense." The excitement in Timaeus's voice is palpable, but then, that should be no surprise at all. He's explaining his life's work, his purpose and destiny. The very job that will make him indescribably wealthy, and grant his sister the pampered princess lifestyle that had been so cruelly denied to her so many years ago.

"It is our duty, honor, and privilege to spread happiness and prosperity across the galaxy, Shas'ka, and that is why I don't care what the rules say. I am a Rogue Trader, I am in the business of making this galaxy a better place for mankind, and I will allow none to impede this holiest of missions. You are a part of that mission now, a safeguard against the galaxy's infinite dangers, and the Inquisition will just have to learn to accept that," he ends with a roguish smile, knowing full well the brainless grox-herders in the Ordo Hereticus would never do any such thing. Still though, he's rich. The Inquisition has better things to do, and worse heretics to go after, ones who wouldn't be nearly as difficult to purge as the Maelius dynasty.

[Shadowcaller]

Debitum Phantasma's Hallways

Shas'ka did understand the concept of trade, the tau did it all the time to gain allies and resources. It was the very core concept of the empire in fact, at least how she understood it. The exchange with other races and cultures made them all collectively stronger through what they could offer one another. So in a way, her new Gue'la commander was closer to the tau than he might realize.
She just nods through his whole explanation though even if she's all too familiar with all this, this ship was like a miniature empire that she ironically had joined while abandoning another one which had almost worked on the same principles. Except all the xenophobia of course. Still, it seemed Timaeus'O had great goals in mind, thought the same thing could have been said about the Aun as well...
"Yes, us tau actually know this concept very well. But since you brought all this up in relation to me, this must mean I'm one of those resources you trade. You took my services in exchange for being seen as a pariah among your own species." She pauses. "You must expect a lot of me commander. I'm not sure how I will be able to repay it all." She bows down her head a bit, she hadn't even been able to stop Shera from getting hurt.

[Slii Arhem]

Symonne's Quarters

She left her station shortly after Warp translation. Then she hadn't been seen. Jocelyn reports to Shera that she's unable to find the Seneschal. She isn't in her quarters or answering messages by comm bead. None of the ship's crew is trying all that hard to find her. She's cursed, they say. The Monmouth was lost with all hands, but somehow the Seneschal survived? When the Lord-Captain's own uncle didn't? The void drove him mad, he blew his own brains out. No, it was his heart. No, he hadn't gone mad. Didn't you ever notice what gun the Seneschal carries? Let's just say it didn't belong to her before she was lost in a saviour pod with the late Lord-Captain, Emprah bless his soul. The crew's conclusion is that it'd serve her right if a warp monster had reached out and claimed her, and there wouldn't be any tears shed.

Through all of this, no one has actually checked Symonne's quarters. And the hours (and days?) continue to pass....

Symonne's Quarters

And pass they do, until, on the fifth, day, Naithin has finally come out of his stupor long enough to realize that they translated to the Warp during his frantic burst of sequestered creativity. Though he was not privy to the events aboard the Monmouth, it is impossible to avoid whispered rumors aboard the ship, even when your only contact is a lone crewman so fearful of causing an accidental spark while delivering your food that he does not tarry in the laboratorium overlong.

Thus, he's aware, peripherally, of Symonne's experiences in the Warp, and aware of the overall sympathies of the crew, specifically their lack of them. On that fifth day, come the terrors of the Warp or the call of the Void, Magos Blank will be striding towards the seneschal's quarters when he learns she's been as incognito as he's been these past days.

Should they be locked, he'll not be deterred, as small, shaped charges and the threats of using them on doors that a quarry is hiding behind are ever-effective at opening the way forward, and he would not hesitate to go to such measures for an ally, let alone a friend.

[Lord Magtok]

Guest Deck/Quarters/Wing/Whatever

Timaeus doesn't reply immediately, instead furrowing his brow as he spends a moment or two in thought, actually considering the fire warrior's words for once, instead of using them as an opportunity to spring some dramatic speech, or manipulate her into believing him some kind of altruistic savior of humanity.

"This is about the incident on Footfall, isn't it? Shas'ka, I don't blame you for that, and neither should anybody else. From what I've been told, everything was rushed, you girls weren't sure who was doing what, and the explosion was some sort of freak accident with detonating ammunition, besides. I still have every confidence that you are a capable soldier and a qualified bodyguard, and I'm sure you will prove me right at the very next opportunity. Just don't let it happen again, you're not permitted to outlive my sister," Timaeus says rather ominously. He's also taken that arm off of her shoulder, but that might be more because he's just reached their destination than anything else. Have to use that arm to open the door, and don't want to look too chummy with the xenos around strangers, y'know?

"Surprise! Captain Maelius! Just dropping by to see how things are, make sure everyone's made it through our first few days in the Warp without any unneeded troubles and excitement. Also, this is Shas'ka. Shas'ka, please say hello to Chief Xenographer Loryn Caareil and her entourage." Wow, he's back to sunshine and smiles and cheer in an instant, like he totally never promised to have anyone killed if they failed him and allowed his sister to die just a few moments ago.

[happyturtle]

Symonne's Quarters

The first thing to assault Naithan's senses is the scent of blood. The rotting smell of old blood. The iron tang of new blood. Over and through everything the cloying sweetness of it all. The lights are up on full, so he can see it, on the carpet and furniture and walls. On one of her saris, discarded nearby. But no Symonne. The worst of the blood is focused around her desk which is further into the room. There, the blood is thickest and oldest, the odour nearly overpowering. A chunk of muscle tissue, about the size of a thumb, lays in the midst of the clotted up, rotting pool, rotting in its turn.

The blood trail is easy to follow. From the reception room, through to her bathroom, where some attempt was made at cleaning that only left blood in the sink and smeared handprints across the mirror. Through the other door in the bathroom that connected to her bedroom. The blood is not quite so bad in here, but there is still no sight of Symonne.

There is, however, a blood trail leading to a wall access panel. One that has been badly reapplied.

[Slii Arhem]

Symonne's Quarters

Which neatly explains why Naithin is always armed.

For as he steps through the cooled, curdled puddles of blood, his reaction is not one of obvious horror or welling dread, but of bitter remembrance. Something of this scene resonates within his mind from his short, violent past fighting to survive a duty that was meant to kill him.

---

"I once had to drive a broken scacchi board into a mutant's neck, though. Out of mercy."

---

The room was much the same, then. Frantically spilled blood, chunks of flesh deliberately cut away. And Naithin's response, though he was unweathered and fresh to the horrors of the world, was one he has since deemed appropriate.

Save what you can, a quick end for the rest.

It's not for the execution of anger or violence that he's always armed in some way, but the final mercy should he ever come across the worst thing he's ever seen in his life.

---

"I want him to wake up in a coffin lined with all of the explosives I can pack into it and know that there’s no escape this time, and that it’s for what he did to a little girl I remembered on Haddrack.”

---

That was a lie, Naithin. You want him dead mostly for what he made you do to that little girl on Haddrack. To all of the ones you found more xenos than human, and more warp-scarred than either. You want to leave him to suffocate, waiting for the quick death that will never come, the mercy you gave to those who tried so hard to cut away what he did to them and failed.

He hesitates before the panel, not wanting to move forward until he's ready. If it's a warp-beast in there, one that dragged Salley off into a vent to feed on her remains, he alone isn't enough to kill it. If it's not, then he's not ready to do what might have to be done for her, if she's even still alive.

It's a long moment, a moment that, if Symonne is still conscious in there, she may fear. The heavy footfalls that lead him to what he believes is her hiding place were indistinguishable from many others, it could be anyone waiting outside that hatch. Anyone, prepared to do anything to erase her from history as the last, crazed survivor of the Monmouth.

When it's pried away, the techpriest's grim face is silhouetted in the pale, stark light of the bedroom, but there is a sorrow in his eyes that is causing his normally steady hands to shake.

[happyturtle]

Salley's Mind

Five Days Ago

She knew that eye.


Not Enough Years Ago

The days had stretched out into a nightmare existence until she wondered if there had ever been any life outside this labatorium full of the damned. She listened for footsteps or voices, climbed out of the walls, and searched through the pens of mutants until she thought the Genetors were returning or until she thought the sights might drive her mad. There were pictures - so many pictures - that she'd filled up a datacube and delivered it to the dead drop location. She didn't know if Naithan had gotten it. The second datacube was in a pocket, also full. She didn't know when she'd get to deliver it. Maybe after she found her mother.

She stopped at a pen that wasn't different than any of the others. Each of them held anywhere from 3-12 mutants. The conditions were shocking, even by street dust standards. The toilet was simply an open grid floor. The food and water tended to be guarded by the strongest, where it was there at all and hadn't been fouled or spilled or neglected. She didn't have to take more pictures until she could nick another datacube, so she was making fast progress. She didn't have to look closely at them at all. The only reason she'd looked again at this one was the familiar bright teal sari.

It was worn by a face with too many eyes, but none of them human. The face was unrecognisable, but the hair was long and black streaked through with grey, and every one of the eyes were fixed on her. "Mother?" she whispered. Salley picked the lock on a small access portal and reached through to take a warm, though motionless and nerveless hand. There was the scar across her knuckles. The dent on her finger, though someone had taken the ring that Salley had given her years ago. The swollen joint from the finger that had broken and healed wrong. Though even without those signs, Salley could have recognized this hand in the dark, by touch. Her mother's hand.

Her mother's eye. No, not her mother's. But the same people had done it. This would take careful doing. She would need to procure medical equipment. Get the training needed to remove the mutation safely. She couldn't trust anyone else to do it. But it needed to be done quickly. Yes. She could see the operating table was prepared. She knew what to do. She'd read up on this.

An injection to numb the arm. A scalpel. Carefully cut around the eye foreign body. No, that doesn't hurt. That's not possible. Not with the medication the patient has been given. Phantom pains only. Be certain that the excision is complete.

There was some irritating discontinuity, but when she was done, she could see that the mutant eye was removed and dead. She incinerated it and cleaned the wound, then sent a comm to the Lord-Captain to let him know that she was sorry to have left her post so suddenly, and that if he gave her leave, she would like to have the rest of the day off as she had a slight headache. Timaeus graciously gave her permission, and wished her good health, offering even to send up a bottle of one of his good vintages of wines to aid in her recovery. She politely declined.

Four Days Ago

Symonne had returned to her duties, but was distracted by how many people were asking about the bandage on her left arm. "Nothing of consequence. Just a minor accident." In general, people accepted this, and didn't pry, and yet, she didn't have very much strength in that arm. In fact, it was throbbing in pain.

Three Days Ago

Symonne had been to see the medic to have her minor wound attended to, but it was only getting worse. Her arm was red and burning hot, and she could barely move it. She signed herself off sick.

Two Days Ago

Salley realized she wasn't getting better. She was hot, all the time. The mutation was coming back. She tried to take more of it off, but she couldn't cut against the pain in her arm without screaming. They were going to come for her. She needed to run. It was time to run.

Salley's Quarter's

Today

Salley listens to the small explosion of her door being forced. The footsteps as someone searches her room.

I'm safe. I covered my traces. They won't find me here.

The footsteps grow closer.

No, I'm not going to go live in a pen like that, I'm not, I'm not, I'm not....

Were Salley healthy, she could have hidden in the conduits of a frigate class ship indefinitely. It would have taken a determined search party to root her out. But wounded and feverish, she'd only barely made it inside, to curl up about a meter from the hatch. Her wounded arm had been wrapped in a sling made of bloody towels and part of the sari that she'd pulled off her own body for the purpose. She'd have been cold being half undressed if it weren't for the high fever. The odour of human waste is not as strong as it should have been in such an enclosed space. She hasn't been eating or drinking.

Survival at all costs. That's the only law.

Salley blinks in the sudden light, seeing nothing but a silhouette. Naithan, with his sanity intact, and the advantage of light, can see much more. Everything above, plus one detail more.

He's looking down the barrel of a Martian Inferno Pistol.

[blackouttwo]

[Guest Quarters]

Because apparently a segment of the ship's crew quarters was set aside for passengers (I don't know, the stowage bay's for cargo anyways).

The xenologist's guest-quarters are a cramped set-up, hardly luxurious. A low ceiling with a small bed built into the wall (looks cramped, too), she sits with a dataslate in hand in her bunk, sitting in dim lighting. Unlike most the crew quarters, the quarters set aside for the passengers (except the mercenary contingent they brought along - they're bunking together, because why should the people with guns have any privacy?) allow for privacy, but not quite comfort.

Chief Xenographer Caareil looks a bit haggard, small bags under her eyes, her hair still tied back in a ponytail like back on the docks in Footfall. Warp travel had a tendency to induce nightmares during a passenger's sleep cycle. Her head jerks up to look from her dataslate at Maelius and the door.

"Oh! Captain, I didn't-"

Then she sees the Tau.

Her eyes immediately light up and she just squeals like a giddy schoolgirl. The dataslate clatters to the floor and Caareil immediately leaps to her feet to approach Shas'ka. "You caught a live one! This is phenomenal! None of the Kasballica's contacts in the Imperial Guard have ever managed to bring one back from the Jericho Reach warzones! This is incredible! It's even in good condition! Where's it's armor and weaponry? I want to inspect them! Oh, Mr. Tocara might even promote me if I can give him full interview transcripts!" The entire time, she's prodding Shas'ka in the arm and shoulder, as if to see what she'll do. How unscientific.

[Shera's Room]

There's a series of brief knocks at the door, surprisingly enough.

"You brought the card, right?"

"I thought you were bringing it."

"Dufrane, seriously, I thought you had this one?"

"I'm not going to cover your drinks in the 'Ghast Hole and the expenses for the card, Harkin!"

"Come on!"

"I'm saving up to buy a new gun!"

[Shadowcaller]

[Guest Quarters]

Shas'ka takes a deep breath and simply nods in response. She had no intention of outliving Shera either, she knew how old Gue'la could get.
Once they enter the room and xenologist spots them, she have to restrain herself to not come with any comment. While she had expected this kind of welcome from a uneducated Gue'la it still stung being called an 'it'. She makes no moves as she's being poked but it looks like she would want to hit Caareil in the face.
"I was told you were going to ask me questions." She states in low gothic, (just pointing that out this time!)

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

The two voices will find the door opening, Shera awaiting with an amused smile on the other side. "Can I help you two?" She asks, leaning against the door frame. She's looking far better than before, cleaned and smelling well and actually looking somewhat alive despite her emaciated frame. She's ditched her robes for now, having settled for a barbaric looking set leather clothing with a fur collar. Her top is little more than a leather vest with wooden toggles for buttons, and her pants were designed with a man far larger than her in mind, but a rope belt keeps it on her. She's also barefoot.

[Lord Magtok]

Guest Quarters

"She, Ms. Caareil. The Tau come in sexes." He corrects, gently taking hold of the fire warrior's shoulders and pulling her aside, in case a strong urge to break our inquisitive guest's nose was in danger of overcoming her.

"Now, while I was originally reluctant to advertise her existence back on Footfall, given the reputation of the Kasballica Mission, Shas’la Vior’la Shas'ka has had some trouble acclimating to both the disquieting hardships of warp travel and our Imperial society, so I supposed that by bringing her to you, I could kill two heretics with one fire, as the saying goes. She will answer your questions at this time, if you'll do the same for her," he explains quickly, while he still has the xenographer's attention. He lets go of Shas'ka, and then steps back, giving the two some space.

I should note that he made no mention of the xenos arms and armor, and quite deliberately. Firstly, he still needs to talk about that with Shas'ka first, make sure she's cooperative on that front. Secondly, there must remain some prize to dangle just out of Ms. Caareil's reach, something to keep her enthusiastic and malleable indefinitely. In fact, he's already planning to cut the conversation a few minutes short, just when things are at their most enthralling, apologize and cite some groxdroppings excuse about the Tau having something important to do elsewhere on the vessel, and then dash away with Shas'ka before the xenographer can think to follow.

[Slii Arhem]

Symonne's Quarters

"Get out of there, Salley. Neither of us want to shoot each other." So he says, despite having his zephyrus leveled at the access hatch with a finger primed on the trigger. He sets the panel down with his other hand, carefully not taking his eyes off of her or bending at the waist. No one can accuse Naithin of having tact. In fact, if not for his experience with the Seneschal and the situation at hand, he would likely be the absolute worst person to deal with this situation.

As it stands, he's likely only the second or third worst, just under some random guardsman who would have died immediately to the first shot from that rather nice pistol.

"You know that neither of us would survive this standoff if one of us starts shooting, and I'm not leaving until you come out to talk to me. From what I can see you're too weak to crawl in further, so you can't make this a chase. And I'd rather have time to speak with you before I have to resort to us standing here until you pass out and I have to drag you to the medbay for treatment. I need to know if that's what you'd want me to do, first." He's being blunt, logical, reasonable, and he knows that it almost certainly won't work. She could have been here for days now, delirious from bloodloss and fever and lack of necessities, paranoia, sleeplessness... everything combined into the panicked, instinctive brain of a human backed into a corner for far too long.

But as little as he relied on this tactic when it was anyone else, now he can't help but try. It's Salley, the smartest, most resourceful person he has ever met. She's survived worse than this, and if he can get through to her brain, make her see that the best option is to talk, then he should try for her sake.

Because otherwise, his most merciful option would be a frag grenade, and there's no guarantee she wouldn't recognize it and toss it right back out at him.

[happyturtle]

Salley's Quarters

"Nait? Nait?" She hadn't expected Naithan. Hadn't expected anyone friendly at all. The gun barrel shakes - no, it's been shaking all along. She doesn't have the strength to hold it steady. "Nait? I think they have spies here. They know we're coming after them. They're going to fight dirty." The gun barrel swings away from him, and she looks at the gun carefully, trying to toggle the safety one-handed before giving up and just offering him the gun, hilt first. Because it's Naithan. "They messed up my arm bad, Nait. I think it's spreading. You shouldn't touch me."

[Halae]

[Navigator's Station]

While all this is going on, something interesting happens up on the bridge. The navigator's station is an interesting place - a large, comfortable chair built directly into floor. Her arms are spread out, small needles poking into them as they're held up by rungs of the chair. The nutrients she needs to do this day in and day out, and the stimulants needed to keep her awake for it, the needles going straight through her robe - she wears nothing underneath but a pair of pants for trips like this.

In front of the chair is a desk. Largely immobile, it projects several things as if by a dataslate. Her warp charts - the things she reads with her mundane eyes, as the warp eye peers into the aether to look for landmarks, passages, and everything else. Brutus rests behind her chair most of the time, a rug stretched out for the massive dog as he watches over his mistress warily. Even if someone wished to get close to her, they'd need to make it past him. Even Timaeus is growled at, without Sola there to stop him.

There are no windows in this round room. Only the sheer black walls, overhead lights, and the doorway.

[The Warp]

Peering into the warp is an interesting thing. To Sola, it's like an ocean, and the ship is a whale, swimming along the current as beams of light shine down from above. The blue waters moves over the whale's fins as it glides in the currents, its body lazily proceeding along. Tiny creatures, like krill press along its hide, but it's too resolute to be a true issue. Its hide too thick to penetrate. A reef lies in the distance - the warp denying properties of the hull allow it to glide faster and smoother through this see, and allowed it to evade such a problematic thing, beautiful though it may be.

But, one of the small beings has other ideas. Rather than raking alongside the hide of the great beast, it lands on its forehead... to commune directly with the Navigator. To try to use her as a way in.

[Sola's Mindscape]

And here, Sola is lost. The daemon presses it's mind into hers, and she presses back. In her mind, she sees the stretching of a poisonous bog and she, naked and alone, must travel through to the safety of the other side. She could very well succumb to the damage this daemon chooses to push upon her, but she's smarter, and there's only one of them. So she walks.

The bog is dark, gloomy. The canopy overhead masking the sun, until the land is naught but darkness and shade. But Sola walks forward.

A snake slithers over her leg, but she ignores it. then another, which bites her calf through the robe. She ignores it, managing to carry on through the pain.

The mud attempts to catch her, prevent her escape. she merely leaves her boots behind.

She wades through water, only to have leaches appear upon her bare feet. They're plucked off easily, and left on land, where they can do no more harm.

She can see the light at the end, and before long, has arrived.

[The Warp/Navigator's Station]

The tiny creature slides off the side of the whale's forehead, thoroughly denied.

"Asshat." Sola mutters. Brutus merely lets out a woof from his spot on the floor.

[Slii Arhem]

Salley's Quarters

"Nait? Nait?" She hadn't expected Naithan. Hadn't expected anyone friendly at all. The gun barrel shakes - no, it's been shaking all along. She doesn't have the strength to hold it steady. "Nait? I think they have spies here. They know we're coming after them. They're going to fight dirty." The gun barrel swings away from him, and she looks at the gun carefully, trying to toggle the safety one-handed before giving up and just offering him the gun, hilt first. Because it's Naithan. "They messed up my arm bad, Nait. I think it's spreading. You shouldn't touch me."

Salley's Quarters

"We fight dirtier. Hold the barrel and I'll drag you out and get you on the bed. We can talk about what will happen from there. Grip it tight now." He knows which "they" she's talking about, or he's nearly sure. And as delirious as Salley seems to be, he's highly suspicious that they would have any spies whatsoever on the ship, or that they would somehow "mess up" Salley's arm with mutations. The genetor's process was very exacting, requiring chained down experimentation and long monitoring of results. A somehow hit and run mutation was not only improbable, but highly unlikely.

Now, how to convince her of that, if there is in fact nothing present on her. He needs to reassure himself that she's not mutated before anything else happens.

"Don't worry about me touching you. During Haddrack, I've had to handle plenty of things, and so far as I know, I'm still clean. I'd take that chance again."

[happyturtle]

Salley's Quarters

"Dragging me will jostle my arm. I will scream." Her voice has gone flat - not a mask, just no affect at all. Salley terrified. Salley knowing that there is no way around this - this is going to hurt and hurt hard. "I should not be holding a weapon."

[Slii Arhem]

Salley's Quarters

"Dragging me will jostle my arm. I will scream." Her voice has gone flat - not a mask, just no affect at all. Salley terrified. Salley knowing that there is no way around this - this is going to hurt and hurt hard. "I should not be holding a weapon."

Salley's Quarters

"Hold on then." Naithin sets his meltagun against the wall and roots around in his pocket for something to grab, coming to a detonator that's currently not wired to anything. He holds it out with his other hand, "Bite down hard on the grip, it'll muffle the sound and take your mind off the pain."

[happyturtle]

Salley's Quarters

Salley bites down. Meets Naithan's eyes. Nods. Then closes her eyes, wraps her good arm around the bad - and waits for the worst.

[Slii Arhem]

Salley's Quarters

Salley bites down. Meets Naithan's eyes. Nods. Then closes her eyes, wraps her good arm around the bad - and waits for the worst.

Salley's Quarters

The worst is going to be a slow, very deliberate pull out from the vent, not tugging or yanking, just a very firm drag that will last a handful of seconds. "When your legs swing out, try to get your feet under you until we're to the bed, I've got your shoulders." Naithin's aware of how this will look, and already he can see glimpses of Salley's bad arm. No signs of mutation, but plenty of evidence of infection, no doubt, after five days left to fester and a hack job performed by the seneschal.

Not insurmountable, but he needs to convince her that she needs medical attention more than secrecy at this point. "I'm going to get you to someone who can keep you alive until we can see what we can do about your arm. I can't see any mutation, you may have gotten it in time, but survival first, Salley. If I have to, I'll wire the whole medical wing to explode to keep anyone from daring to cross us." Privately, he doubts there was any mutation at all. More likely she's warp-mad or caught a hallucinogenic fever from Footfall, but he has to cater to her mental state.

[happyturtle]

Salley's Quarters

No difficulty on Naithan's end. She doesn't mass 50 kilos. He can feel the scream in her, caught in her teeth. She gets her feet under her. Her knees buckle. Survival first. She pushes down again, lets her toes grip the carpet. Sticky. Her mind skitters over that thought, just as another explosion of pain sends her reeling. It seems that hours pass before she reaches the bed and spits out the detonator strap.

"Not the pens. Promise."

[blackouttwo]

[The Warp]

The shifting immaterial tides ebbed and flowed as they had done for millennia.

Somewhere in the abyss of this hellscape, something was watching the Debitum Phantasma as it made its way through the Warp.

And it grew curious as the ship drew near. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=uRLZbje6W0c)

[Bridge]

"Minor fluctuations in the gellar field. Think something just bounced off us. Sending word to the enginarium to compensate for it."

"Copy."

"Think she can hear anyone in that trance of hers?"

"The Navigator?"

"Yeah."

"Yeah, I think so."

"Well, someone should go tell her it's about time to adjust course. We should drop out of the Warp and get our bearings before jumping back in."

"Not it."

"Not it."

"Not it."

"CRAP."

[Guest Quarters]

The xenologist's first reaction upon hearing the Tau speak is to cover her mouth in surprise, followed by a short, nervous laugh as she immediately backs away from Shas'ka. "She speaks Gothic! Phenomenal! Absolutely phenomenal. Oh- by the Throne on Terra, I didn't think I'd see the day."

She opens the door to her modest quarters a bit wider, and moves to gather a few things, setting her dataslate on a nearby nightstand and generally clearing her bed. "Please, by all means, come in, sit down on the bed, I'll stand. I-I have recording equipment and an autoquill and some paper, we can do an interview immediately!" Caareil sounds ecstatic at the prospect, to say the least.

[Shera's Quarters]

The two armsmen are glaring at one another as Shera opens the door. They pause in their heated discussion over whose fault it is the Get Well Card from the rest of their precinct of the ship's security force hasn't been delivered, and take in the sight of the emaciated Shera, who looks almost like a feral shaman to them.

The two security troopers get nervous, fast. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=sAuv6lFX2zM)

"Oh."

"Heeeeeeyyyyyy."

"Ms. Shera, you're looking...well?"

"Well."

"Well! You're looking well."

"No she's not."

"She really isn't."

"Well, don't be so insensitive about her looks, Dufrane."

"Oi, Harkin, I'll be insensitive to who I want, thanks."

"You forgot the Get Well Card from the precinct, too, come to think of it, ya bastard."

"Yep, an' I'll forget yours next time you get shot."

"Well **** you too, man."

"You're not my type."

Shera quickly forgotten, the two armsmen degenerate into the bickering children at heart they always are, lobbing 'points and counterpoints' and then mere petty insults back and forth. Unfortunately for Shera, this is the kind of thing that goes on forever unless interrupted.

[Shadowcaller]

[Guest Quarters]

Shas'ka makes no comments about the xenologist reaction. Did Gue'la really know so little about her people? She knew she was far away from home but this woman treated her like some extinct species. Not looking particularly pleased, the tau still follows the xenologist inside. "How long will this take? Since I really prefer to stand." She says aftera brief look around the room, not meeting the xenologists gaze.

[Lord Magtok]

Guest Quarters

Timaeus beams proudly as the xenographer goes wild, even if he didn't really do anything worth being proud of. He just found a xeno damsel in distress and agreed to take her aboard. Throne, he almost didn't do it, too. He only went through with it because his sister agreed to take her aboard. Honestly, it's not like he valiantly saved her from a horde of primitive, carnivorous xenos with pistol in one hand and sword in the other. He didn't sneak her past a squad of the Emperor's own Adeptus Astartes, or even personally set time aside to learn the Tau language and teach her to speak Low Gothic, what's he so high and mighty about? Any of those tall tales might make for an interesting story to tell when Shas'ka has left the room, though.

"Patience, Shas'ka," Timaeus chides gently, before seating himself on the bed. He's just going to assume that seat she offered was for the both of them, and since the fire warrior has chosen to ignore it, entirely up for grabs.

[Slii Arhem]

Salley's Quarters

No difficulty on Naithan's end. She doesn't mass 50 kilos. He can feel the scream in her, caught in her teeth. She gets her feet under her. Her knees buckle. Survival first. She pushes down again, lets her toes grip the carpet. Sticky. Her mind skitters over that thought, just as another explosion of pain sends her reeling. It seems that hours pass before she reaches the bed and spits out the detonator strap.

"Not the pens. Promise."

Salley's Quarters

"Absolutely not. No one but our lord captain is going to have to know, if I have anything to say about it." Naithin grimaces, "If you can, you should sleep now. I'm going to have to carry you, and it'll hurt unless you pass out first." Meanwhile, the servo-skull is hovering outside the front door, and is going to sweep the halls ahead of them when Naithin does start to carry Salley out, giving a verbal warning to anyone in their way to clear the hall at the orders of the head Explorator on pain of being shot semi-fatally. It'll also be asking for directions to the Lord Captain and his pet Tau's last known coordinates.

If Salley does manage to pass out, that process will start immediately, him carrying her down the hall with the inferno pistol in one hand of the arm that's supporting her legs, and the other supporting her shoulders. And it will continue until, presumably, they wind up at the guest quarters if they get good directions.

[happyturtle]

Salley's Quarters >> Corridors etc

Salley doesn't pass out right away - not when there's so much fear pumping through her system. But before he's out of her quarters, she loses consciousness, and fades in and out during the hellish journey. Every step is agony, and each time she wakes, she thinks it must be over soon, but it never seems to end. Another step, jostling her, tearing animal moans from her that scare her almost as much as the pain. Then merciful darkness closes over her again, and gives her respite.

[Slii Arhem]

Guest Quarters

The scene will be rather rudely interrupted, first by a servo-skull belonging rather obviously, by its distinctively numerous and massive lenses, to Magos Blank, if Shas'ka can please stop entertaining the xenographer as she is needed in the medbay rather urgently.

It will then advise as practically an afterthought that if she does not wish to do so, then the matter will be taken to the guest quarters for her to deal with there, the choice is hers and the Lord Captain's to deliberate on, but they should make it fast, before it's forced to be made for them.

[Lord Magtok]

Guest Quarters

Timaeus Maelius bites back some vitriol and fury. This is the second time now that something has gone wrong right when he was in the middle of trying to dazzle their guests, and the third thing that has gone horribly unwell since they took on this job. Probably Symonne's fault again, if the Magos is the one calling them. Those two might claim to bear the same last name, but he's no fool. They're so obviously rutting. In fact, that's probably what happened; those two were alone again, and some whirring part of the techpriest accidentally popped out and hacked her abdomen open. More or less what the adjutant deserves, really.

"You may attend to this emergency, Shas'ka. Ms. Caareil, you have my sincerest apologies; we'll have to try this again later."

Timaeus sighs and stands, as his hand wraps around the rosarius concealed beneath his shirt, tightening to such a degree that he may find bruises later in the evening. If they're being punished with misfortune for some sin against the Emperor, he'll have to find some way to make up for it. Once this mission is complete, throne willing, he will stand by his word and actually do some deeds as noble and proud as that nonsensical drivel he fed Shas'ka a few minutes ago. That foul xenos and every other member of his retinue will be astounded by his noble stature and poise, as they watch him brave all manner of dangers and menace in the Holy Emperor's name, and nothing at all will go wrong.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Room

Shera can't help but laugh at the exchange and grin. "Girls, girls. You're both pretty. It's okay." She says, trying to snap the pair out of it. "It's true I'm not at my best, but I'm at least able to walk and I truly appreciate the concern. Come on in. I'll have my attendant get you two something to drink and you can tell me everything I've missed while I've been recovering." She tells them, heading back in and telling whichever attendant is on staff to get some ReCaff going.

[Shadowcaller]

Guest Quarters

Shas'ka stares silently at the grotesque Gue'la machine as it speaks, she had just learned about their medical procedures and they already needed her help? She hadn't even tried out what she had learned yet and now she was expected to help with an medical emergency? With none other than Mr. Blank himself involved.
"As you command." She nods to the commander, giving the xenographer a quick glance before she starts to head in the direction of the nearby medbay.

[blackouttwo]

1530 Hours, Debitum Phantasma Shipboard Time, on-site at Hades Beta System Warp Translation Point, 224.816.M41
1872 hours out of Footfall

The voyage has been a less than pleasant one. Constant alerts of some minor Warp intrusion or other causing half of the crew to barricade their doors, only to be told it was a 'false alarm.' The pilot and helmsman on the night shift accidentally grinding the ship up against some aetheric reef or other - the gellar field and the ship's armor ensuring it only scratched the paint. Security personnel constantly reporting odd sightings in the lower decks with increasing frequency, only for nothing to actually leap out of the darkness and try to kill them. Passengers unused to the rigors of Warp travel complaining of difficulty sleeping. Small fights over rations, criminal activity in the lower decks as voidsmen carry out various articles of black market trade. The usual.

Thankfully, the voyage out to the star system in which the Kasballica carried out their dig is over, and the trip back promises to have the crew in much higher spirits if any profit is had - which, considering the nature of this outing, has a significant chance of occurring.

As the Debitum Phantasma exits the Warp, and the gellar field shuts down, the first sight to greet all who look out of the viewports and bridge oculus is that of a pure white star hanging in the void, bright and steady as its light burns in space. Several celestial objects can be plainly seen orbiting around it. While the outer reaches of the system are clear of any features whatsoever, the mid-reaches of the system contain a small dust cloud spread across the entire mid-section of the star's orbit.

The Debitum Phantasma has arrived at its destination: The Hades Beta system.

[Bridge]

"Gun batteries report they're cleaned and ready to roll out at a moment's notice, Captain-"

"Maneuvering thrusters are primed and fueled-"

"Enginarium reports plasma drives active-"

"Security detail on standby and awaiting orders."

"Augur arrays reporting no anomalous activity beyond some radiation storms in the inner cauldron near the system's star, Captain. Feeding data to the hololith display now."

Ms. Caareil is on the bridge, going over the details with the command staff, her dataslate in hand and linked up to the bridge's realspace navigation instruments to display the layout of the system in detail. Near the captain's command throne is a hololithic display on which a projection of the Hades Beta star and the outer and mid-reaches of the system are shown. The dust cloud is prominently displayed, and inside the part of the system marked in brown to show the cloud's location, is a small orb, marked as a planet - the display has marked it 'HB-01.'

"As you can see, Lord-Captain, the Kasballica's initial surveys didn't cover much of the system; the outer reaches are obviously completely empty, without so much as a dust cloud. The primary biosphere - the system's mid-orbital sectors - contains the primary focus of our trip out here. Inside that dust cloud is a planet on which the alien ruins were found, and where our dig site is currently established. We encountered no hostile resistance in the form of xenos raiders nor pirates, and the system contains no actual navigational hazards to our knowledge. Nothing that would endanger the ship."

A few taps of her dataslate's screen, and the hololith updates further, with additional displays and hololithic readouts showing an additional dust cloud, and what looks like a gas giant. A third of the system - all of the closest space near the star, in which this additional dust cloud and the gas giant rest, is marked in red. "Anything further in would be dangerous; that entire portion of the system is regularly bathed in extremely dangerous radiation storms. Our survey ship reportedly tried to investigate that gas giant more closely, and their vox and augur systems were damaged almost beyond repair. They had to pull back or lose their more sensitive equipment altogether."

The display rests with that statement. "All data regarding HB-01's orbital trajectory is already loaded into your ship's cogitator and navigation instruments. We just need to get there. The dust cloud around that whole part of the system will cripple any kind of long-range augury, but we'll get there with no problems if your helmsman doesn't try to plow us directly into the planet."

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Astropathic Quarters

Set apart from Shera's normal room is a small chamber, dimly lit and smelling of damp earth. It had been a painstaking process setting up the room, and despite her fear and hatred of Dusk, she had found she couldn't concentrate unless she was in familiar surroundings like it. Because of that, the small 20ft by 20ft chamber was lit by only a handful of candles set into the wall and the raised platform in the middle had a hollow filled with warm water. Every square inch of the ground and much of the walls has been covered by damp moss and soil as well. There was a very likely chance that some sort of insect was living in here as well.

Despite all the plant life though, the air itself was noticeably cooler than the rest of the ship. Hopefully Shas'ka put on something warm like Shera suggested when she invited her into the chamber. The room is empty when she arrives, but Shera enters shortly, wearing a plain white robe as she enters through a different doorway, presumably a bathroom as she appears wet from taking a shower. "Thank you for coming." She says, running her fingers through her shortened hair, still trying to get used to not having the braid. "This is likely going to take several hours, so make yourself comfortable, and whatever you do don't touch me once I begin attempting to receive messages. No matter what you see me do or hear, don't. To do this I send my mind out of myself, and if you come in contact with me, your mind might be ripped out to join me. Oh, and lock the door, could you?" The Astropath asks before dropping the robe and stepping into the pool of somewhat murky water so she can sink down to just below her shoulders.

The "No Brothers Allowed Unless Pre-Approved" sign on the door now seems quite reasonable as the Astropath has nothing on underneath.

[happyturtle]

Bridge

Symonne is in her normal place on the bridge, seemingly unaffected by her time off sick. Perhaps her eyes are a bit more sunken in, and she's a bit thinner. Certainly she favours her left arm, and winces if it gets bumped against anything. And she needs to sit down a bit more than she used to. Okay, so she doesn't seem unaffected at all. But then, the Kasballica people wouldn't know any different, would they?

"I suggest going directly for the dust-cloud, Lord-Captain," Symonne says. "We aren't prepared to encounter radiation storms."

[Shadowcaller]

Shera's Astropathic Quarters

Shas'ka had expected something completely different, no, that wasn't entierly true, she hadn't really expect anything besides the same grey walls as in every other room. But no, this was different. After all the time spend in this metal box of a ship there was finally a place where she actually could feel the earth underneath her feet without them being encased in her suit.
The tau simply stops once she entered the room and looks down, seemingly amazed at the sensation. Why in the world didn't Shera spend all her time here? This was amazing!
"Uh, no problem!" She replies, simply taking a few steps closer before sitting down on the ground, letting her fingers dig as deep into the earth as possible, causing it to slowly sink in between her fingers.
She nods absentmindedly to the rest Shera had to say, this sounded important, even if she couldn't figure out what it all meant. Without getting up she scoots over to the door and reaches over and locks it before getting back to her position again. "Start whenever you want, I'm ready." She wouldn't mind spending a few hours with earth all around her. She could really see why Shera used it as a relaxation chamber, she just wished she'd told her about it earlier. Perhaps she'd even would allow her to use it sometime.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Astropathic Quarters

Despite the lack of eyes, Shas'ka will feel as if Shera has closed them. For an hour silence reigns supreme in the chamber before Shera's skin begins to glisten as a yellow liquid begins to sweat out of her. The moment the liquid hits the water she's sitting in, it bubbles, hisses, and pops as if it were acid. From the acrid scent it gives off, it likely is.

After several minutes of sweating acid though, Shera's entire body rocks back suddenly as if she was hit in the head and she awakens with a stream of loud curses. "WHAT IN THE WARP WAS THAT?!?" She shouts as she starts splashing water on herself to clean off the "sweat".

[Shadowcaller]

Shera's Astropathic Quarters

Shas'ka is laying on the ground, mostly keeping an eye on Shera, since thats why she was here after all, but occasionally looking at the mud-packed ceiling, wishing it had been the skies of her home planet. This was probably the closest she could get to though, unless Timaeus'O decided to stay around on some random planet they landed on and let her stargaze, which was more than unlikely.
Her train of thoughts are interrupted by the scent of acid and she is immediately up on her feet, scanning the room for the source of the smell only to see that it seemed to come from Shera herself.

She blinks, suddenly unsure how to react, was this what her mind somehow did to her? She suddenly regretted not bringing her a towel or something like that, it looked like she could need it now. Shas'ka steps closer to the pool and sits down at the very edge of it, ready to pull up the unconscious Astropath once she woke up as she guessed the strange sweat was a sign that she was about to do just that. The tau wasn't quite ready for that violent reaction however and still seems unsure if she should touch her yet or not.
"What happened? Are you alright?" She quickly takes off her shirt and offers it as a towel, rather wanting to ruin that than Sheras fine robe.

[UncleWolf]

Shera's Astropath Quarters

"Damned message was waiting for me. By the Throne, it just leapt right into my head. Going to get one massive headache after this. " Shera says with a groan as she pulls herself from the water just in time to take the shirt and pull it on, ignoring that it soaks through as she heads over to the vox panel to page the bridge. "Captain, this is Shera. I've received an extremely powerful general broadcast from within the system. Xenos in origin. I haven't deciphered it, but I'll give it my best try. Whatever it is and whomever it is from, it doesn't feel hostile. Even so, I'd have people on alert. Might be a trap. My Shas'El and I are heading to the Choir now to try and decode it. Over and out." She says before picking up her robe and tossing it to the Tau with a slight smile. "One of us should have some modesty." She says before rushing out of the room and scampering off several doors down to get to the Choir's record chamber.

The Astropath either hasn't noticed or just doesn't care that all she's wearing is Shas'ka's shirt. After all, she has work to do.

[Shadowcaller]

Shera's Astropath Quarters

Message waiting for her? Leaped into her head? It was hard to disbelieve Shera at this point yet this all sounded like some mystic shaman nonsense that she had no idea how to wrap her head around. Instead she just gets up and prepares to follow the Astropath wherever she was going. Looked like she had found something very important.
Then Sheras robe is thrown to her and she can only stare confused at the other woman before she puts on the taus shirt and disappears out the door, not wanting to argue, or be late. Shas'ka simply throws on the robe and follows Shera outside. Gue'la always stared at her either way.

[Lord Magtok]

Bridge

"Indeed. Best we not damage the augurs for as little as mere curios-" The captain pauses mid-sentence, frowning as his sister delivers a message to the bridge's vox systems. Severe but impermanent injuries to critical members of his retinue, superstitious and fallacious rumors of a cannibalistic navigator, the aetheric reef they would've missed completely if he had been at the helm at the time, and now this. Are these omens and portents of dark things to come, or a series of moderately inconvenient coincidences?

On top of all of that, just what the hell kind of xenos bears no hostility, anyways? A xenos freely roaming the galaxy, one that staunchly refuses to accept its proper role as an enemy of mankind? That's just absurd, and no, Shas'ka doesn't count; she's a captive of the ship. She'd probably shoot everyone in the face if she truly understood the nature of the people she was working with.

"Exceptionally peculiar. I suppose it would be too much to hope that anyone had made note of a xenos transmission during the initial expedition."

[Halae]

[Sola's Quarters]

Sleep.

Sola has been awake for no less than seven days at this point, her eyes somehow bloodshot despite not having whites. Brutus rests beside her, whining worriedly as he always does when his mistress isn't feeling well.

She's laying splayed out on her bed, her robes draped over her form as she looks at the ceiling. Well, sort of. Her eyes are open, but that's because she always sleeps like this. Her incredibly loud snores can be heard through the doorway.

She's out. And likely will be for a few days. didn't even bother to get undressed. A few servants used to come by to see to her after she fell asleep, given the exhausting effects of navigating for the ship, but Brutus' growls put an end to that. He's willing to see to her needs, after all! don't need some stinking people to come in and muck things up. He knows better than to hurt any of the command staff, but anybody else? They'd best watch themselves, or they'll soon be missing a leg.

[blackouttwo]

[Bridge]

"Er...No, no such thing. We never bothered to search for any such astropathic broadcasts. This system is off the beaten path. We'd always assumed there was nothing to find, and we don't have many astropaths to work with in the first place. The survey ship never reported any such thing." Caareil unplugs her dataslate from the hololithic display, leaving the data up for Maelius's perusal. She pockets the dataslate and turns to head back to her quarters, turning her head to call back to Maelius. "Please, Lord-Captain, I would consider it a personal favor if you kept me informed. This is a new development I wish to catalog for the Kasballica's benefit. I need to go and ensure my people are preparing for disembarkation now that the bulk of the voyage is over. Our primary mission here hasn't changed, I hope."

While Caareil is talking, just before she turns to leave, you idly notice a small palm-sized augury readout on the arm of your Captain's Throne, supposedly the long-range sensors or somesuch, you never really paid attention to it before now. There's a brief blip on it - it disappears immediately afterwards, but Caareil's made no mention of celestial phenomena that would cause any kind of bizarre sensor-ghosts or anomalies on auguries.

In short, it's entirely possible you're being followed or observed. There was no other Warp rupture reported in the system, especially nothing near you. Whatever you just spotted had to have been here before you arrived. But it's not on the sensors anymore.

[Slii Arhem]

Bridge

After a long, dedicated period of tending to bubbling vats of liquid explosives and welding together large sheets of plasteel, often at the same time in areas dangerously close to each other, Magos Blank has finally opted to grace the rest of the ship with his presence. No doubt the added days away from the others were to aid in the Lord Captain forgetting about his role in disturbing the xenographer's first meeting with the tau.

Although the circumstances were later explained in a full debriefing to their esteemed and very merciful Lord, it was done so through the servo-skull that the Magos has been increasingly using to facilitate communications between himself and anyone requiring his attention. The state of Symonne's quarters, and her own stay in the medbay attended to by the tau, were kept as silent as possible while Naithin also went to the trouble of upgrading himself in case a similar misfortune were ever to befall him. Not that Shas'ka did not do a worthy enough job, but succumbing to heretical methods simply for survival would be against his rather flimsy principals.

Still, he is present in the (partially) flesh, and carrying an engraved metal box under one arm as he approaches the captain, falling into a respectful bow as he presents the package.

"My Lord Captain, pray forgive my absence as I toiled for our cause, and my interrupting your meeting so thoughtlessly with the Kasballica guests. I present you this, for your inspection and hopeful approval." Honestly he could not care less what trinket or bauble that Maelius would like to have, but presenting it in such a way that the command staff can see the supplication evident in the action, and Maelius can see he is willing to make amends.

Inside the case is a beautifully detailed and strongly wrought parrying dagger, perhaps somewhat plain for what nobility is used to, but extremely functional.

[Lord Magtok]

Bridge

"This will be more than adequate, Magos," Timaeus responds, delicately lifting the parrying dagger and wiggling it about in the air experimentally, before setting it back in the box and upon his lap.

"It may become necessary sooner rather than later, in fact. I've detected something on our long-range sensors, which has already gone dark. Another vessel, perhaps. Possibly the source of the xenos message Shera intercepted." He taps at the palm-sized readout, and orders a proper augury done. They've got to catch this mystery ship, right here and now, or they could risk all manner of misfortune down the road for letting it slip right past them!

[blackouttwo]

[Bridge]

The bridge's augurs light up like an Emperor's Day tree in Scintilla's upper hives as Maelius punches the buttons to begin a detailed long-range sweep. "Machine spirits awakening, commencing long-range augur sweep." One of the augury officers punches a few buttons of his own at his terminal, and pauses for a moment.

He then pales at the readouts coming up on his terminal display before whirling around in his chair to look to his captain "Lord-Captain, we have contact! Two unidentified vessels holding position at 200,000 kilometers! Unknown class, not of human manufacture!"

The man to the augury officer's left punches a few buttons at his own terminal. "Bringing it up on Pict-Caster Tertius, my lord."

The bridge-oculus projects an image to its left side, pushing various tactical readouts, augury overlays and other such advanced techno-arcane babble to its right. The image projected zooms in - click-click-click - before finally highlighting the two unidentified contacts in yellow; the crew's preferred color for vessels of as-yet unconfirmed hostility.

The ships shown on the bridge-oculus are approximately nine-hundred meters long, nearly half a kilometer shorter than the Debitum Phantasma itself. Smaller even than most human-made pirate vessels and sprint-traders, but still large enough to constitute an actual voidship. The spacecraft are sleek, sinister-looking amalgamations of black crystal shards. Bursts of pulsating dark energy bounce between the shards, and it looks as if those bursts of energy are binding the crystals together.

The two ships lack any kind of discernible weapons, drives, maneuvering thrusters, crew quarters, any running lights...it's as if they're just massive amalgamations of crystal moving in the void. The craft move with a bizarre grace, maneuvering to-

"Lord-Captain, they're coming about! Unidentified craft adjusting course to intercept us!"

Vox-officer Moranik, at his own station, is already adjusting vox-controls to broadcast a transmission to most of the ship. "Vox is standing by to give the order to come to action stations, Lord-Captain."

[Astropathic Choir]

Because apparently telling the astropath's player in private 'you don't find anything on the kind of imagery in the message you got' is insufficient. :smalltongue:

The atmosphere of the astropathic choir, in contrast to Shera's private chambers, is gloomy, and for an astropathic choir, somewhat cramped. Many would assume that to be due to the conditions aboard a voidship, but the more important factor is that this particular ship is cramped due to a number of factors that are most likely about to become very important within the next hour or so (unbeknownst to Shera and Shas'ka).

The chamber itself is a large domed room with a sloping ceiling; the entire right end of the chamber is given over to a separate, adjacent office filled with countless records of widespread Astra Telepathica symbols and interpretations of said symbols. The other astropaths assigned to assisting the crew of the Debitum Phantasma in their travels don't seem to be present, and a servitor is tottering about the chamber with a broom and dustpan, sweeping it to ensure it stays clean.

The chamber itself certainly doesn't seem to be all that busy at the moment, and the adjacent office is often kept open for use by Shera and the other astropaths. A quick inspection of the door will reveal it to be unlocked, as per usual. Inside, stacks and piles of parchment compiled in a dizzying array of categorization methods are piled, carefully, absolutely everywhere.

If there's anything to find about most commonplace astrotelepathic message encryption, it's here.

[Slii Arhem]

Bridge

"We may wish for the xenos to be here to direct the gunners, given her proficiency with combat and the Lord Captain's more pressing duties. My Lord Maelius, I can interface with the Machine Spirit of the Phantasma and aid in either flight or positioning for combat, should that be your aim. Simply ask what you require of it, and I will relay that to the ship itself." Naithin is already plugging himself in via his MIU, awash in the danger of the situation.

"First, we should know more of what they are, to better assess the situation. Seneschal Symonne, in the absence of our Navigator, can you operate the augury controls while I coax them into a less sorry state?" Naithin will tempt the ship into giving them a better reading.

[Lord Magtok]

Bridge

"To battle, Moranik. Let's blow these foul xenos right out of the void," Timaeus answers, scowling at the bizarre crystal ships on the pict-caster. Time to show these disgusting aliens that the Maelius dynasty won't be so easily struck down from the Administratum archives.

"We won't be fleeing from these creatures, Magos. You'll focus on positioning." The scion of the Maelius dynasty can't help but feel overwhelming enthusiasm for the events to come, stirring in his seat with anticipation. A dramatic duel to the death in the void! Two inferior xenos vessels, cowardly attempting to ambush one of the Emperor's finest up-and-coming rogues!

[UncleWolf]

Astropath Choir Records

Shera gives a smile when she sees the records office and begins digging through the stacks haphazardly. "Shas'El? Try to find scrolls A-458 and F-37. They might have something that can help me identify what is going on. If you can't find those, look for 895-D. Don't open them though. Technically, you shouldn't even be here, but time is of the essence."

[Shadowcaller]

Astropath Choir Records

"Rodger." Shas'ka nods, turning to confirm that the scrolls are indeed labeled. "Are you sure you do not want some clothing? That looks freezing." She asks before starting to look however.

[blackouttwo]

Moranik immediately turns back to his station, on Maelius's order.

The alert spreads through the ship without delay. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pvC99_mQIAw)

Meanwhile, the augury crews and officers read out specific pieces of information as the focused augury reports begin to feed themselves into the ship's cogitators, the machine spirits benevolently revealing the data on the bridge-oculus as they overlay themselves onto the readouts of the two xenos craft.

The readouts were...anomalous, to say the least. It was quite a bit of techno-arcane jargon even some of the trained officers didn't quite understand, but that very fact made it anomalous. After all, they'd been trained to read this information, and what they were seeing just didn't make sense.

The readouts of the alien vessel are...concerning.

Judging from the display on the bridge-oculus, there are no discernible life sustainers, realspace drives, Warp engines, gellar field-equivalents, nor any kind of discernible bridge or control center. Its mass seems to be fluctuating. The augury gives no sign of any life nor crew aboard the crystalline vessel, nor any indications of how much it can accelerate and sustain that acceleration.

The only mechanisms that truly stand out - if they can even be called such - are two noticeable points of the dark energy pooling near the crystalline collections that could safely be called a dorsal ridge and the keel of the alien vessel. They may be projected energy weapons of some kind, but the crystal formations containing these pools of energy are clearly shaped as if they were some form of cannon. If not projected-energy, possibly some kind of strange warhead serves as their primary weapon.

[Astropathic Choir]

The servitor sweeping the astropathic choir room pauses in its duties as the alert sweeps through the ship, before tottering to a nearby wall. The wall slides opens to reveal a small chamber inside of it, just large enough for the servitor to be concealed. It promptly ensconces itself inside the chamber, leaving a small pile of dust on the floor and sealing itself into the small room.

Meanwhile, the alert is clearly audible to Shera and Shas'ka.

[Hades Beta System, approximately 200,000 km spinward from the [B]Debitum Phantasma's position]

The two craft maneuvered through the void.

They communicated with one another, in a sense. Coordinating their attack. They did not truly speak. They did not cheer nor make any solemn pledges to defeat their foes. They were above such petty things as speech and dialogue, or compassion and communication. They were craft meant for war, a war fought centuries ago and lost.

But death was beneath them and their masters.

The Weaver required materials.

They would oblige. (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=FY1fVrI2NFQ)

[UncleWolf]

Astropathic Choir

When the alarms sound, Shas'ka will hear Shera curse quite loudly. "We don't have time for this. My Shas'El? Go to the bridge and take your place. Be sure to grab your gear. No matter what my brother tells you to do, you are to protect him at all costs!" She commands the Tau, looking right at her, completely serious. "If something boards and kills him, we're all dead or worse. If I get killed, then the ship is merely down an Astropath. f he raises an issue with that, tell him I said he can go screw himself and his sense of chivalry. Go now. I'll try my best to confuse the enemy when they're in range." She tells her, reaching under one of the desks to pull out a rolled up pair of pants to pull on right before slamming a nearby vox panel. "Astropaths to the Choir."

[happyturtle]

Bridge

"There are two places on the xeno vessel that show energy being gathered. I... can't make sense of the rest of these readings. There doesn't seem to be normal life support, warp drives, bridge-analogs, or anything ... normal." She hesitates before adding. "Do you want me to attempt contact, Lord-Captain?" Of course all of this is being transmitted through to Naithan as well.

[Shadowcaller]

Astropathic Choir

Shas'ka turns to Shera and nods curtly. "Rodger. I will protect him with my life, Er'es Shera. We can talk again later." She would have been tempted to say more but this was neither the time nor the place. Despite the situation the fire warrior didn't feel particularly stressed, just focused on the task at hand as she heads out of the choir and to her quarters, putting on her armor the same way she had done countless of times.

Once ready, she heads to the bridge.

Bridge

The tau arrives fully geared at the bridge, having been let past the security check points. Amazing what some heresy can do.
She will hand over Sheras bathrobe, who she's still holding to the closest servant she can see. "If you have the time to spare, take this to the Astropath's room." She says, having memorized Sheras gue'la title.

She will then go and find Timaeus and position herself near him. I'm going to assume he's busy however so unless he asks, she isn't going to tell why she's there until he appears less busy.

[Slii Arhem]

Bridge

"I agree with that assessment. From the readings, the easiest assumption to make is that these are autonomous ships, akin to a massive servitor. Since they have no obvious means of propulsion, nor ability to store a crew, many of our options are limited. We should aim for the gatherings of energy, which seem to be their main weapons, and prepare to be fired upon. Shas'ka, your preparations would be best suited to firing first." Though he'd rather have the tau helping him with the machine spirit of the ship in practice, in principle that's a little too close to tech heresy unless absolutely necessary for saving their skins. Let her handle the shooty blammy gunbooms.

"Lord Captain, it occurs to me that, despite this being out of my expertise, it seems likely to me that these craft are at least slightly daemonic in nature." Crystalline ships reappearing after untold ages lost, they could have dropped out of the warp as massive, mineral daemonhost weapons and he would not be the least surprised.

[Lord Magtok]

Bridge

"Thank you, but their exact origin and designs don't concern me terribly, Magos. Negotiation was never an option; we'll scatter their ashes across the system either way," the Captain promises, before glancing at Shas'ka. He wordlessly points a thumb towards the section of the bridge devoted to commanding those crewmen responsible for the macrocannons, figuring she'll get the idea, and relocate herself appropriately.

"Let's bring her around, see how they like the Stygies pattern," he commands, not that it matters yet. It's not his ship's turn, what's he getting all worked up so early for? :smalltongue:

[blackouttwo]

[The Void - 200,000 km and closing from Debitum Phantasma's position]

The two craft diverted, breaking off from one another as they approached. One broke to their prey's port side, the other to the starboard. They communed with one another in that speechless, unnatural manner, coordinating a strategy to disable the human vessel.

Both craft maneuvered, and seizing the opportunity for an early volley as they closed in on their target, opened fire.

[Bridge]

Bursts of dark, purple energy explode outward from the two alien craft, their keels and dorsal ridges spewing forth volleys of Leman Russ tank-sized crystal shards, bathed in the same dark energy coursing through the rest of the craft; One augury officer calls out his close observations of the energy bursts as they sail through the void.

"They're shooting crystals at us. Sirs, there's something off about those crystals! Getting odd readings on the augur arrays, not sure what they mean, but...Wait one...Augury and trajectory says those 'munitions' are going to pass us! Their firing solution missed, but that might not happen again! One's deviating to our port side, the other's to our starboard! The bastards are trying to get behind us! No telling what happens if those crystals get a solid hit in on the Phantasma, best if we keep clear!"

"All gun decks report cannons run out and loaded, Lord-Captain! Standing by for firing solution!"

"All maneuvering drives at full power, enginarium on standby!"

[Lord Magtok]

Bridge

"Helmsman, full speed ahead; close on the astarboard vessel. Shas'ka, direct all weapons towards the bow. On my signal, deliver unto the enemy vessel the full force of the Debitum Phantasma's combined arsenal. Vox-officer Moranik, contact the Stygies macrocannon crews. They can expect increased rations for the next three months if we crush this foul, warp-spawned marauder with their volley," Timaeus orders, in the most authoritative, serious business voice he has at his disposal. If they crush the first vessel with sufficient prejudice, perhaps the second will wise up and flee into the void. That would certainly be amusing; hunting the enemy down and annihilating the cowards before they can activate any warp engines they might have at their disposal.

[UncleWolf]

Astropathic Choir

By the time the other astropaths arrive, Shera is already seated in her throne. Her brother might have a glorious captain's chair, her dark hand-carved wooden throne is nothing to sneeze at. The piece is carved so the edges resemble foreign beasts whose rear ends all swirl together in a whirling design that is centered on the back of the chair. A small holo shows a copy of the auspex data on the right arm rest, and by the time the two other Astropaths take their own seats within the choir chambers, she's already decided upon a course of action. "I understand that no one but the three of us might understand what we're going to attempt today, but by no means does that make our actions any less heroic than those of the gunners or those on the bridge. We are the very mind of this ship, the senses of it in and out of Warp Space. Navigators and Captains might get all the fame and glory, but without us they are nothing." She tells them as she begins to merge their minds together, breathing out frost as the temperature plummets within the room. We are the ones who willingly sacrifice ourselves for we are the blessed, the few who have seen The God-Emperor himself, and know that in death we will be welcomed into his arms. And then we shall look upon those still living with Pity, for we are His Chosen and shall forever be."

As she finishes, the mind-merging completes and they begin their task, looking towards the closest ship.

If the power works, heavy banks of fog roll out from that side of the ship, obscuring it even here in the depths of space, leaving it a mere shadow within.

Back in the Choir, Shera slumps over, out like a light and drooling for the time being.

[Shadowcaller]

Bridge

The fire warrior nods silently and takes position at the macrocannons. Commanding Gue'la wasn't new to her, they technically weren't any different from the Gue'vesa but probably felt more uncomfortable being under the command of a tau. Putting away her rifle, she send Bork the drone to hover near Timaeus position as her promise to Shera. Even if boarding didn't seem very likely at this point she still had to honor her promise somehow even if she probably protected the commanders life better by commanding the macro cannons.

Bork will silently hover a small distance behind Timaeus without getting in his way, but might still make people ask why there's a tau drone there (once they aren't too preoccupied by the imminent attack).

"You heard him." Shas'ka tells the crewmen as Timaeus gives the command, her gestures indicating exactly where she wants the weapons pointed. She had taken the opportunity to study these weapons as her duties extended a bit beyond simply guard duty. "All weapons at the ready."

[Slii Arhem]

Bridge

"Thus we do invoke the spite of the Machine God. Thus we shall make sundered that which is whole." Magos Blank intones a semi-blasphemous litany to the Omnissiah, one of his personal favorites, for all to hear. The Machine Spirit of the Debitum Phantasma responds in kind, casting its augurs about to great effect to pinpoint and aid Symonne's efforts as she locks on to the foe, further aiding Shas'ka and her gunners in acquiring a firing solution. An unsatisfying use of his time when he would far rather be destroying things directly, but everyone must play their parts, and this is one he plays exceptionally well.

[happyturtle]

Bridge

"Sing praise to the God of all Machines," Symonne chants as she locks on target. She was never an initiate, but the Omnissiah is still the God of her childhood, and the only one she knows to pray to.

[blackouttwo]

The three ships dance in the void (https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=SBoikUEFWFw), maneuvering around one another. Or at least, the xenos craft maneuver around the Phantasma. The Debitum Phantasma plunges directly into the pincer maneuver, and deviates from its course only slightly to line up one of the two alien craft with its fore. The alien ship is practically at point-blank range by the standards of Naval warfare, a mere 20,000 kilometers away by this point.

After nearly fifteen minutes of maneuvering and constant status reports and updates from various teams of tech-adepts throughout the vessel, with Shas'ka's orders and a firing solution from Naithin, it is a few minutes before the macrocannons open up. The entire ship rumbles with the force of the cannonfire, as dozens of shells the size of Leman Russ tanks soar through space to slam into the side of one of the alien ships as it passes in front of you.

"Battery Primaris, shots out!"

"Battery Secundus, shots out!"

There is a pause for five minutes as the cannon shells either sailed off into the depths of space or slammed into the side of the alien ship. A shield of some kind ripples and dies as the opening volley from the Mars-pattern cannons hit it, only for more shells from the Stygies-pattern cannons to carve huge craters in the alien craft's side. Something in the ship's movements makes it look as if it were reeling or slowing down.

Then the torpedo chamber reported in.

"Torpedoes out. Fire one. Fire two."

The ship rumbles once more, and two plasma torpedoes flare into life. Ordinarily, a torpedo would travel 100,000 km or so within thirty minutes, tracking for targets all the while as the machine spirits did their work. In this case, the volley reaches its target in maybe six minutes due to the distance. Almost point-blank overkill.

Both torpedoes impact, and dark crystalline shards sail through the void as the alien vessel is blown apart by the torpedoes, miniature suns flaring into existence as the plasma warheads detonate. Most of the bridge crew is forced to seal their eyes from the brightness of the light. The brightness doesn't die for several more minutes. The alien vessel's remaining parts seem to crumble and wither, disappearing into nothingness as the dark energy surrounding the ship seems to begin convulsing and crackling, almost desperately. The energy begins to flicker and die and disappear as well. Within minutes, the entire xenos craft has crumbled to nothingness, leaving empty void and no wreckage. The entire bridge crew erupts into cheering at the sight.

Of course, while the Debitum Phantasma has been maneuvering into position, the other alien craft has been doing the same.

The cheering dies quickly enough as a report comes in to dampen the mood. "Captain!" The same augury officer that confirmed reports of incoming cannonfire once again speaks in a panicked tone. "Alien ship has maneuvered directly behind us, at 30,000 kilometers!"

The bridge's machine spirits, sensing danger, activated a klaxon; an alert to the crew that a munitions impact is imminent.

"BRACE! BRACE!"

[B][Hades Beta System, approximately 30,000 kilometers from Debitum Phantasma's position]

One of theirs down.

No matter. More will be made.

Void-skein rupture cannons load and fire.

The first dozen or so shots in the opening salvo bypass their shields. As expected. The rest impact on their shields, and the shields flicker and die.

Also expected.

The Weaver needed components. The humans would suffice.

[Bridge]

The ship trembles and several officers are knocked from their seats. "Captain, shields don't seem to be blocking their munitions! Outer hull is taking hits!" One officer turns from his chair to shout over the klaxon.

A few flickering lights of dark purple energy flare up a short distance from the ship's outer hull. The void shields are blocking the incoming attacks from behind. It quickly becomes apparent that the ability to bypass shields is somehow an ability that is only used occasionally. Some randomly-activated special function of the enemy's weaponry, perhaps?

"Wait, shields repelling- Damnation! SHIELDS DOWN!"

Another series of explosions ripple across the ship's outer hull as another volley rips into the Debitum Phantasma. Another klaxon, reporting battle damage, activates briefly before someone shuts it off.

"Deck Seven reports minor hull damage! A few of the outer corridors are exposed to vacuum, Captain, but we seem to have shrugged off the worst of it!"

"Casualty reports coming in, sir! Considering where they've got us right now, I'd say it's a sign of the Emperor's favor we're coming out as well as we are! Running the numbers against records for the assigned personnel for that part of the ship, Lord-Captain! Wait one!"

The casualty reports look manageable, to say the least. Same with the hull damage. The alien ship is directly behind you, perpendicular to your ship's own angle. It took its shots at you from behind as its dorsal and keel weaponry rotated to fire.

You'll need to reorient the ship to get at the other alien craft to say the least.

[Astropathic Choir Chamber]

The other astropaths slump in their seats as well, one jabbering prophecies of half a galaxy away in a tongue not spoken since M37. The other merely twitches and convulses slightly.

Shera has a different experience.

As Shera casts her mind out from the ship to shield it, something touches it briefly.

The something is unnatural. Alien. But grand. Saintly. An angelic presence gracing her with its attention. Something wonderful. Shera gets flashes of improvement, mental images of humans turning into champions of saintly masters, flesh and meat and bone stripped away and replaced with wondrous, powerful new bodies.

An offer. A purpose. With that, the presence dies as two plasma torpedoes cut it to shreds in the void. Shera gets a brief flash of the light from the weapons used to kill it in her mind's eye.

[UncleWolf]

Astropathic Choir

Shera eventually wakes and twists in her throne to throw up into a bucket she keeps nearby. She felt...defiled by the visions and desires she'd felt for that short time. It takes a bit of doing, but eventually she finishes and reaches over to nudge the other two to wake and get them moving. "I know we're...tired. But there's still one ship left. It's hit us and we have to keep it from happening again. Just..just once more and we'll be good I think." She says, offering a weak smile. "This is what we get paid for after all, so lets make sure we earn our keep this day."

One more the Astorpaths merge their minds together and reach out...

Only to slam back into their own heads, crippling headache making Shera double over with a moan as witch-fire arcs around her head. Her sight goes haywire for a while, but she doesn't collapse this time even if she wishes she did.

[Lord Magtok]

Bridge

Timaeus scowls. If these filthy alien cowards think they're going to get the best of him here, crushing the Maelius dynasty with some perfidious trap, they have another thing coming. He rises from his command throne, making way towards the helm. If anyone should be steering this vessel for this maneuver, it should be her own lord and master, not some malodorous serf.

"About-face. I want those torpedoes ready to fire the instant those scum are within our sights."

[Slii Arhem]

"Aye aye, and the Omnissiah directs our footsteps on the path to glory." Naithin intones as he pushes the engines in frankly distressing ways for those who have to tend to them. The Machine Spirit of this vessel is disturbingly responsive and eager to please in the face of an opportunity to respond in kind to the threat that dealt its wounds.