[RT] The Wonders of the Expanse [IC]

[The_Shaman]

Chapter 1: Blessings of the Past

“It is a strange symbiosis that Rogue Traders have with places like the Expanse, each needing the other. Without such cunning, capable and ambitious individuals as they, the Imperium could hardly explore and tame such a strange, dangerous and rich far-off place. And without such an enticing, profitable deathtrap, we would be hard-pressed to find what to do with these treacherous snakes! A few succeed, and many more fail – but their own failures only add to the legends, as their lost riches add to the allure. The Emperor’s wisdom provides for each their own.”
- Augustine Lagrange, Lord-Minder of the Administraria Ixaniad


It has been several long days as you approach Port Wander, the station at the end of the Expanse. Ever since you exited the warp the atmosphere on the ship has been strangely uplifted – not quite cheerful, perhaps, but with a tinge of vibrancy and pride. Even the lowest of ratings – those you come across with, at least – seem to move with a sense of purpose. The red-robed techpriests, enigmatic as always, keep their own council and their staccato bursts of Techna-Lingua are never to be understood by an ear of flesh, but some of the menials slip that, with the Omnissiah’s blessings, the machine-spirits too seem well pleased. Whatever happened back at the inward systems is behind you and the Hauberk of Faith, the errant scion of the Salix Fleet, is coming into her own voids, a leviathan of plasteel and adamantine, proudly gliding between the stars.

The hours draw longer, and one shift melts into another. The ship, under standard procedures that have been passed from one generation of crew to another, is under partial lockdown, ensuring that there is no errant movement as it nears its objective. Only the shuffling, impersonal servitors with their brass masks and those bearing the blessed sigil of high officers can move about at such time, and at this point, the latter are all gathered into the grand hall of the bridge. The hall is set as if it were an enormous hemisphere, with massive armored crystal windows providing a view to the beyond. The stations, cogitator consoles, interlinks and innumerable other apparata are set in a series of steps. Above them all rises a 20-meter red marble, silver and adamantine statue of St. Arabella, last of the Companions, whose stony gaze pierces the void, and whose right hand points ever forward, where the Emperor’s bidding is to be done. Integrated with its base is the Lord Captain’s throne, whose current occupant surveys his domain with a no less hard gaze. Beneath him, the masters and mistresses of the arcane machinery that is the muscles, voice and senses of the ship tend their charges, and lower still in a trench-like arc dozens of adepts, techpriests and other specialists labor to ensure these most holy wonders of the Omnissiah are properly propitiated and fit to do their duty.

The helmsman is the one seemingly in charge of the maneuvers from his angular console station, his eyes racing across several screens with information that filtered to him from stations around the ship, then up to the void ahead and down again. Behind him and to the right was the integrated throne of the Chief Navigator, a half-enclosed space built atop a special elevator that would in time be raised when the time came for the navigator to do his unique duty, and the ornate throne of the Lord Captain. At the side were several other major personages of the ship, but two stood apart – the high seneschal, surrounded by a myriad of data-banks and monitors, and the senior confessor, unmoving and silent like the statue of the saint herself, by which she was standing.

A slight change is felt, rather than seen, across the men and women of the bridge when a small speck of grey becomes visible in the void far beyond the crystalline panes. Little by little, several of the screens become more vibrant and intense, as new data race across them.

A spindly, gaunt figure straightens, abandoning her usual stooped posture, leaning over the databanks and screens of the console. It is Esme Quint, the void-born Mistress of Etherics, and her voice rings with strange, somewhat metallic clarity quality over the hum of the bridge as she turns to the side to address the figure on the throne.

“Captain, Port Wander hails us. Shall I patch them through?”

Feel free to make minor modifications, introductions, internal monologues etc. Also, I assume that the ship rites expect a MoE to get permission from the captain before opening the channel, though it is possible that she needs simply to inform them - let me know how you prefer it, the latter may save a bit of time but I imagine the former is more typical.

[ArcturusV]

The Command Throne was a thoroughly uncomfortable place for Lord-Captain "Corporal" Arin Ryan. It wasn't just about being in a position of command. He was used to that. From birth he had dealt with a chain of command, the moment he was old enough to shoot a gun straight he had a position of leadership, training up kids who couldn't shoot straight. Just was the nature of the Homeworld and the struggles of those who lived there. In his years of bopping around the Calixis Sector he had lead everything from small gangs hired as mooks for a Hunt, to hardened professionals who had left groups as varied as the Imperial Guard, Adeptus Arbites, or Death Cults of the God-Emperor.

Nah, he could handle the command, at least in practical terms when it came down to brass tacks. It was the looming statue of the Saint. He wasn't an impious man. He worshiped as any good God-Emperor fearing Imperial should. He didn't fail to make the symbol of the Aquila when needed. He was as certain of the God-Emperor's protection and power as anyone ever was short of those who's faith was so powerful as to manifest the true miracles of the Emperor.

But that didn't make sitting under a giant statue of one of His saints any less uncomfortable. It was a looming reminder of his own inadequacies as he saw it. Rogue Traders were supposed to be larger than life figures like these Saints. Great figures who accomplished amazing acts of War, Piracy, Exploration, Discovery, and Trade. They were people who could alter the very fate of the Imperium with his actions. There was always that lurking sense in the back of his head that he was drowning. He knew he wasn't really that figure. Not yet at least. He was experienced enough in the ways of the Galaxy he had no real doubt of his ability to eventually adapt, learn, and conquer. But he wasn't there yet, and he was entering a battlefield without any real knowledge of what was expected of him, and how he was supposed to do it.

All these thoughts lurked in his mind as he sat in his throne, in his Corporal's long coat, his hands pushed together, elbows resting on the armrest of his throne, his index fingers pressed against his lips as he leaned forward slightly. It was a clearly tense pose, but it wasn't unusual. He was a tense man at almost any point in time. It was just how he came off, few ever saw him really "relaxed", he wasn't prone to smiling or joking.

Port Wander, the first stop for Rogue Traders entering the Expanse. He was keenly aware that before them lay the "Maw", the narrow corridor they had to shoot through. He was aware that the "Maw" was deadly, a test that destroyed as many Rogue Traders as those who shot through it safely. Last bastion of the Imperium Proper.

"Put them through Miss Quint," he ordered, never moving his body from that position. "Also awaken the Augurs, if there are any particular infamous ships in the area or docked at Port Wander, I will want to know."

[The_Shaman]

The voidborn nods, and bends forward in her typical manner, her eyes – one black, one replaced by a bionic that gives her lean face a somewhat avian look – barely a hand’s width away from the monitors. “Augurs at optimal capacity, captain, but we’d likely need to get a lot closer to confirm ID on a ship near the station. For those already docked we’d probably need to dock ourselves. Patching in.”

After a minor delay, another voice sounds inside the bridge – this time a male one, speaking in a clear, staccato high Gothic with a faint accent, almost hidden in the faint static. The message itself is impersonal, as if coming from an automaton

“Attention unidentified ship – you are nearing an installation of the Imperium’s Most Holy Navy and a holding of the Emperor of Mankind. Identify yourself and provide a target for your voyage.”

The Aetherics Mistress’ voice comes over a separate microbead channel. “It is possible we are outside of their range for positive ID, captain. Docking rights should be fully clear. Should I provide all standard codes for the ship automatically or would you prefer to announce yourself personally?”

You all know the House of Salix has sought to limit knowledge of the change in power as much as possible, and the ship’s name should still be tied to its old master in the Port Wander cogitator banks. A copy of the warrant and certifications of inheritance (properly phrased) are of course provided on the ship, and you are fully authorized to spread this information during your travels (with the clearly stated request to be mindful of the family’s – and your – interest in this) but their presentation will likely take a bit of time and information will eventually leak to a certain extent - those who need to know will know that there is a new captain on the helm.

[Wyndeward]

Alaric sat at attention beside his station and quirked an eyebrow, awaiting his captain's response.

[ArcturusV]

He pondered over it for a few seconds, just a quiet moment with his eyes staring at the image of Port Wander displayed before him, "Standard codes Miss Quint," he replied to her without moving his heavy gaze from the station. There was a lot going on. Concerns that he was aware of but didn't quite know how to handle yet. The intricacies of the politics of a Rogue Trader Dynasty, inheriting the enemies and contacts of that dynasty, along with the perks and other baggage that came with it.

Either people knew, they had their ears to the ground and had heard about the fate of the last Lord-Captain of the Salix Dynasty, or they hadn't. If they had, they should know it was someone new in the Command Throne, perhaps even know it was him, though he doubted he was so infamous that anyone really knew that much about him beyond his role in what had happened at best. If they didn't know? It gave him a tactical edge to trigger a surprise at a key moment.

Sooner or later that advantage would be gone, as he and his crew accomplished things in the Expanse and beyond. But there was no need to go throwing away the card before you even had a chance to play it.

[The_Shaman]

It takes the better part of a minute for the answer to come

“Acknowledged, Lord-Captain Salix. Docking rights confirmed. You are cleared to dock at Civitas Dock Tertia, arm Delta, in two-thirty standard Terran hours.”

What follows is a brief enumeration of conditions – duration of stay, responsibilities, inspection and so on. It sounds impressive and, to a layman, frightening. Of course, like so many things in Port Wander, it is subject to change for the right incentive and person… And to you, that makes it mean very little.

As you approach, the greyish speck grows and becomes more pronounced, taking on a lumpy shape and a slight glitter. Forms become distinct and those of you who have been here before start making out familiar shapes. Unlike the iconic Imperial stations inwards in space like which it started long ago, today Port Wander is a chaotic agglomeration of hangars, bays, satellites, towers and hab-modules, attached side by side and at times around its Navy core.

As you approach, the hands of Mistress of Etherics start moving faster in practiced motions as you approach, and she begins muttering in a brief jargon as she starts giving directions to her subordinates and those tech-priests tending the machines. Without changing her posture, she at one point makes a further comment to the rest of the senior crew.

“There are 27 vessels barring small craft in and around the station and any who are in inner docks and inactive. Two questions - should I run detailed scans only on private operators, or Navy crafts as well, and should I contact anyone else on the station?”

[ArcturusV]

"Passive Augurs on the Navy only, no need to rile them up Miss Quint." He told her firmly. An active scan was a bit... aggressive. Something that someone who was twitchy, and gee were some of those void born really twitchy in his experience. Too much life out in the chaotic hell wastes of the empty space between stars and the storming warp, not enough life under open skies and the God-Emperor's Light.

He looked over to his Confessor, putting his heavy gaze upon her fully, "Last stop before The Maw. How is the morale of the crew? Do you believe that liberty passes should be given out as rewards, or do we need to keep them locked up tight?"

It wasn't too unusual for him to ask such things, he trusted his crew in their special fields without doubt, and the word of the ship's confessor was as good as his word as it came to matters of Creed, Morale, and Crew. And he expected that when the Confessor spoke on such matters that the rest of the crew knew he was trusted by the Lord-Captain and would respond accordingly.

Turning to the High Factotum he added, "Do your best to make sure this ship is good for a war effort," simple, and to the point. He had no idea what the High Factotum would do, or what contracts he'd go for to make it happen. But it was the Lord-Captain's concern. He knew how lawless the Expanse was by reputation. He knew that wealth and prestige were generally only found as far as your gun could point. And he knew the previous Lord-Captain was brought low by a gunman he had been unprepared for. He was a military man, and as such his primary concern was having the power to do what he wanted to do first... going after the prizes of the Expanse a secondary concern compared to not getting shot in the ass while doing it.

To the Navigator he merely said, more politely than to the others, with a hint of reverence due to a member of the Navis Nobilite, "Please inform me when the passage through the Maw will be most clear, and when we must leave." That simple, he didn't want to shoot the Maw during some crapstorm. The Emperor might be with him at all times, but the Emperor rewards those who show due reverence and diligence in their life.

Back to Miss Quint he added, "Contact the usual assortment of authority figures, prominent noble families, governors, admirals. Make nice with your message, set up some dinner appointments." It wasn't exactly his thing. He wasn't much one for sitting in luxury dining and chit chatting. But it was part of his crash course on Politics when he took the warrant. How things are done, how simple little things like these sometimes abhorrent dinners and small talk with figures opened doors later on. A necessary evil. But he could suffer through a few hours of swapping stories about his Adventures and suffer through gossip about the station if it meant that they were going to be more willing to do business with him and his own.

[Leon]

Her reverie broken by the Captains words.

Morale is within acceptable levels for the current state of action and limited liberty passes should be allotted to worthy crew.
I shall issue a directive to my subordinates to begin preparation for docking mass and any further gatherings to beheld for those not deemed worthy of a liberty pass

[silphael]

"So will I do, my Lord."

Oddly smiling, Aesteban slightly bowed its head.

You know nothing of this world, don't you? That's fine for me.

Reajusting his cape, his sharp eyes seemingly wandering among the officers, he opens a folder and begins anotating what was in in.

[The_Shaman]

"If I may be so bold, Captain, it would be unusual to request an audience with anyone high up without doing so in person or a good reason. I suggest sending a general announcement to the respective channels - interested merchants or nobles would likely contact us. Permission to forward any replies to the High Factotum for review?" Esme Quint replies over the private channel as the ship seemingly slowly approaches the Station, the pilot plotting the course that would eventually take them to the respective dock.

[colossusclub]

Jace Gant surveyed the flood of information filling his screens from the stations in the Hauberk of Faith. The helm crewman, enginarium tech-priests, lesser auspex officers and many others reporting the status of their tasks and problems in completing them. Although some problems have arisen, none of them were worth interrupting the Rogue Trader and were already close to being fixed. Jace issued orders to his subordinates, telling those having problems how to fix the issues (to the best of his ability).

Once finished and with a break in the flood of data. Jace looked up to the window to see the station in view, he also caught a glimpse of the statue of St. Arabella. Jace was a man who wasn't particular to the cult, he didn't have anything against it but he felt that it was yet another prison in his life. He didn't get this far however without being able to avoid suspicion, follow the mandates and laws of the Emperor and show his faith when required.

He didn't mind the idea of Xenos technology aboard the ship but he absolutely despised Xenos, for they killed his master and most of the ship they were aboard at the time. Only Arin Ryan knew this, Jace admitting it to him the moment they met. Arin Ryan might have known it or not, but Jace had quite a bit of respect for him simply due to his title. It was a Rogue Trader, after all, who freed him from life on a forge world. Jace had even gone so far as to learn the secret tongue of Rogue Traders in order to better serve them. With an exception to two or three, Arin could make any request and Jace would work to complete it.

Jace, returning to his work, continued plotting in the course for the respective dock. Jace remained quiet, usually only speaking when asked or when he feels it relevant.

[The_Shaman]

The Hauberk of Faith slowly decelerates, as it nears the space station, and after a full circle it nears one of the side docs of Port Wander. As the Helmsman handles the ship in these last minutes and the red-robed techpriests intone the Mass of Joining, those priviledged to be on the bridge and have the ability to look out can enjoy the view of Port Wander - the last true outpost of the Imperium in these treacherous stars. Despite its somewhat haphazard construction, its size is quite imposing - probably fully twice as big as most Imperial stations, and yet naval and civilian instalations still jostle for space. Statuaries, huge Aquillas and other crests - of merchant houses, rogue traders, and still others - pass by your eyes as the frigate slowly maneuvers to the dock.

The techpriests' droning hymn reaches a high point as you approach the tunnel to the airlock, and as it reaches its crescendo, it falls silent. You think you sense the dull thud of the mechanical extension of the tunnel as it attaches itself to the airlock. It is the omnissian congregator who first makes a noise, praising the Omnissiah with a burst of strangely melodic techno-lingua as the vital part of the docking is complete. His next statement is aimed at you, in a somewhat accented high Gothic. "Captain, all augurs show the docking operation meets the desired parameters. The machine spirits of the Port Wander docking bay hail us. The calibration prayers should take in the range of 158-201 Terran seconds."

Several minutes later, those of you who wish to descend into the vaunted hall of the landing bay. A gaggle of Administratum functionaries have arrived to greet you and take care of the formalities. If someone notices that the captain looks different from last time, they do not show it.

As you descend, the bridge crew report a shortened version of the various replies to your broadcast - various merchants, interested parties and minor nobles looking for trade or to curry favor. Most are suppliers of the sort of things the captain is not usually bothered about (the factotum, of course, gets an extended version on his data-slate) - things like provisions, standard repair parts, ship maintenance, berthing arrangements, and so forth - but through them, it would be easy to reach almost anything that is bought and sold in Port Wander.

[ArcturusV]

He was keenly aware that he didn't know what these Administratum Clerks really expected out of him. But he at least made a show of being very comfortable with himself. Unless someone wished to arrange otherwise, he had no interest in putting on a grand display, having Armsmen and Adepts in their dress uniforms standing in parade ranks for the meeting of the functionaries and the Lord-Captain. Nope. He just dressed in his military finery, with his blade and Pistols resting comfortably on his hip, and standing tall as he entered the Landing Bay.

He puts on his "business smile" and mannerisms, at least used to dealing with high profile figures and the pleasantries of High Gothic speaking society from his previous life as a bloodhound for hire. He'd bow, flash the Aquila, exchange a few little pleasantries, make introductions to his own representatives, in particular Aesteban as the Go To Man for Regulations, Paperwork, etc, etc, etc, and of course Ravia as it never hurt to remind people that they dealt and traded in the Emperor's property, due diligence, piety, and purity and all that.

He found himself idly wondering if Alaric was going to leave his Tower of Luxuriating, Bon Bons, and marathons of "As the Warp Turns" to join them on Port Wander... but even a Rogue Trader didn't really make Demands of a Navigator. At least he didn't.

[Wyndeward]

Alaric exited his station and made his way down to the Landing bay, holding a perfumed cloth before his nose as he passed through certain portions of the vessel. Dressed in his finest Navis Nobilite robes, he smiled and bowed slightly to the captain. Alaric watched the bureaucrats with a look of bemusement upon his face, his void-black eyes scanning the crowd, his staff held as a walking stick in his right hand.

[colossusclub]

Jace laid back comfortably in his seat, deciding to remain where he was and ensure all of the functions of the ship was in acceptable condition during, and after, their stay at Port Wander. The reasons for his stay being the lack of proper attire for someone of his position (in high class situations that is) and his smaller degree of knowledge of the Imperial Creed.

[The_Shaman]

Among the many personal names, dynasties, merchant houses, cartels and their varied introductions, one stands out. While its name is unfamiliar to you – the Outer Ixiniad Guild of Pious Explorers and Provisioners of St. Crastine’s Fall – the tone and phrasing of the message is very thinly reminiscent of certain parts of the motto of the House of Salix. Arin actually recognizes some fairly well disguised parts of the family cypher, indicating that the sender is an ally and wishes to make your acquaintance.

They had not been told that the House had allies or agents in Port Wander. However, in particular Arin’s quick “education” did not hide the fact that many of the assets of the House were not known to all members, and many of those who knew the most were… no longer with them.

[ArcturusV]

An ally? Was it one of the heretics who escaped a purge, or just an innocent soul waiting to fulfill some long lost mission handed down through the generations? He wasn't quite as blind to think that everything under the name of the Salix Dynasty was somehow pure and good for him. If that was the case he wouldn't have had to shoot, capture, and condemn those that he did, after all. Then again they were reaching out to him. Either because they knew who he was, or because they were just on some blind order to contact any part of the dynasty that came through.

"I trust you have this all in hand?" he asked Aesteban. Never one to micro-manage his underlings, that was him. He gave a few smiles and bows to the functionaries gathered in the Landing Bay, exchanging some nice little pleasantries as he excused himself to go out onto Port Wander Station. He didn't call for some horde of armsmen or bodyguards to accompany him. Maybe he was just over confident in his own skills. But if anyone wanted to tag along with him he wouldn't stop them.

First stop, somewhere to eat. He had an urge for something unhealthy and a bit of variety after the long trip in the warp and with the same old, same old rotations that came with Voidfarer diet. He figured it'd put him in a better mood, and more likely to deal appropriately with these Agents. You never knew when someone would get skittish and put off by his normal demeanor. He had found over the years that it tended to happen. Not everyone was cut from the same cloth as a Fortress Worlder, or was used to the blunt harshness of a militaristic tone.

[silphael]

Silently nodding toward the captain, smilier than ever, Aesteban was definitely in his element. Sending back some of the merchants, never hearing more than a few words, noting some names, and finally :

"I will send messengers to those I will trade with, all of you can go now. Tomorrow or the day after : after that, don't await a message."

This task quickly dispatched, he made haste to catch his captain, which was apparently eager to disappear...

[ArcturusV]

Arin noted the presence of his Factotum scurrying to catch up with him as he entered the Station. Without breaking his stride or turning his head to him, he said, "Ever had one of the Wander Waffles? Wonderful things those. Light, crispy. They say it's something special they do to corpse starch rations and deep frying them or the like. I dunno. Never was much one for cooking myself. Quite good however. Really will hit the spot after a long journey. See if you can tempt one of the cooks on board. Variety and all, good for morale, never underestimate the effects of good rations on fighting men and women."

He smiled to himself, following old paths he knew from years ago, picking out the scent of his nose as he went towards a more destitute seeming hab block in the station. He had been through the port a few times in his life. There's always some bounty head either looking to hide in the Expanse, or moron who had crossed a Rogue Trader and was looking to escape into the Calixis Sector. While he hadn't been there as a Rogue Trader before, he had been there before. Last stop before the Maw and all that. Place of savage hope, riches flowing like rotgut, and tales of the misery of poor Expeditions into the Expanse.

He made his way to a familiar hab block, seeming a bit more comfortable there than he ever was on the bridge of his own vessel. Even giving a few nods and smiles to some of the workers as he saw them, drawn on by the smell of a food he had craved since he first set course to Port Wander. There's just some things that even the riches of a Rogue Trader can't appropriately replace. Exchanging a few Throne Gelt, chump change now compared to the fortunes he was expected to control, for a wrapped waffle, chomping into it, and offering to buy Aesteban one as well.

Did it matter? Probably not. But it was a rare glimpse into the mind behind the "Corporal". Just a simple, honest moment of pleasure and being somewhat relaxed in the dingier surroundings. "So then, what do you make of things?" he asked Aesteban.

[Wyndeward]

Alaric continued into the station's markets, a mental list of victuals and other comforts on his mind. A case of fine amsec, excellent cuts of grox -- the creature comforts that made traveling the stars worthwhile. He had his doubts as to the station's ability to fulfill his requirements, but he was determined to make the best of the situation.

[Leon]

Docking Mass done and others subordinated to those that can handle lesser services for the duration of docking stay. Ravia departs with a small entourage to go about business on station.

Once i am done with offical business i can meet up for any other matters that need to be seen to

[silphael]

Waffles? Waffles? I guess I will have a very hard time...

Eating like it would make him sick, a detail only someone knowing him well could see.

"You may want to distance yourself from the rest of the people, if not for your security, but for your image... being near from your people is fine, but meeting so easily people from down there may be seen as foolish and may be used by your rivals", he whispers. "I know you were used to that, but you are not a mere human anymore."

[ArcturusV]

Arin arched an eyebrow at Aesteban's words responding in the secret tongue of the Dynasty, "I'd watch using the term 'mere human' around our Priests. They may take exception to that as Heresy," he warned in return, with a deadpan voice as he finished his little treat. What use was the riches and powers of a Rogue Trader if you couldn't indulge every once in a while after all?

"But perhaps you have a point," he tossed aside his refuse and started walking again, heading away from the Hab Block and starting to make his way towards the location of their Dynastic Agent. "New life, new concerns. But as they teach a young Guardsman, just because you got assigned to the Heavy Bolter doesn't mean you toss aside you Lasgun."

"This agent seems a bit strange. You'd think a primary contact in the only port of trade between the Imperium and the Expanse would be something I was briefed upon. They most likely didn't trust me enough to tell me. Either because the person has Heretical leanings, which I am not tossing out as a possibility, or because it was deemed beyond my 'mere human' mind to comprehend. Either case, it tells me I should meet them. The only question is if I walk away from a contact or a corpse." Dead serious, and the ease of which he carries his weapons does suggest he's quite serious about that possibility and wouldn't think twice about it.

[silphael]

Not totally hopeless in fact? Great!

"Oh right, let's tell it that way : you aren't a sacrificial pawn anyway. About the agent... I won't consider it as so odd : most dynasties don't know the exact ramifications of their power : you don't know if you will meet members of your dynasty when you go somewhere, but you may meet some... it may be a trap as well indeed, but in that case it may means a part of our codes are endangered."

He puts his hood on, and you recognize what he his wearing : a cameleoline cloak.

[The_Shaman]

In the short time that Arin and his retinue walked around Port Wander, they passed by several different zones that each may have been a separate station - the rough-and-ready docking bay, the disciplined and orderly naval installation, and the cosmopolitan (with even a whiff of decadence) bazaar. In any of those, however, their number, clothes and bearing made most immediately take notice and - usually - keep their distance. Occasionally, an overeager merchant, missionary or factor would try their luck, in most cases ignored or noncommitantly delayed by an armsman or minor functionary of their group with the implicit assumption that should the Captain or another worthy want to speak with these folk, they would let them know.

[ArcturusV]

Arin makes a note to interact with the would be priests and preachers, be they clear charlatans or not. Giving them some paltry (Well, to him) Throne Gelt and trading some pious statements with them before moving on. It always did well to show proper respect to those who claimed to be guided by the God-Emperor after all, and as an ex-Guardsmen he knew that all success came from the Will of the Emperor... and you were better off not tempting his displeasure. Nothing insanely detailed, just a few "PRAISE EMPRAH!"s, "Hail Terra!"s and passing in the Emperor's Coin to his servants. If Aesteban disapproved of the use of petty gelt in that manner Arin didn't seem to mind or care.

"I'm weary of it, if only due to recent history," Arin confided to Aesteban, still in the Secret Tongue, "We used the old codes, if you remember. Whoever the agent is, probably thinks I am the previous Lord-Captain... I don't think I need to remind you of the fate he met at my hands, and eventually the Inquisition. Of course the Agent may be free of Corruption and Heresy, but there's always the possibility they were complicit."

He looked over to his Armsmen, and as they passed through the Military Quarter of Port Wander gave them a clear order in the Military Tongue, "Respectful of the Local Command, show deference. Be proud of your service but it is their home." If anything, the man was a traveler and had apparently picked up and adopted more than a few tongues, be it the secret cants of the Military, Rogue Trader Ciphers, and of course Low Gothic. Maybe yet another point of evidence for Aesteban that somewhere in there was someone who at least had a glimmer of promise for being a 'proper' Lord-Captain.

He continued on towards the location of their contact, easily switching between Low Gothic to deal with various begging priests, the Military Tongue to order his Armsmen, and the Dynastic Language with Aesteban, "You wish to be my tutor in proper behavior as the leader of this Dynasty." Not really a question with how he stated, just a simple fact of their dynamic. "What do you foresee us doing in the Expanse?"

[Wyndeward]

Alaric wandered the market, purchasing choice viands and victuals for delivery to the ship, of course.

His errand done, he made his way to the chapter house of his family on Port Wander, to see what the latest rumors and information on the state of the Warp.

[The_Shaman]

The dynasty had relatively minor holdings in the expanse - minor, of course, compared to the opulent palaces it had in other areas – but their Mission is still an impressive building by the standards of Port Wander, not lacking compared to the offices of many merchant consortia or minor Imperial institutions. The two liveried guards at the entrance – there more as a representation than for defense, although no doubt quite capable of that as well – quickly inquired as to his name, then bowed slightly to him and his small group, and stepped aside so he may pass.

Inside, in a waiting room just short of cluttered, a stout, richly dressed woman of some years over medium age (or perhaps a century, but that would be impolite to tell) was already walking to greet him. Her several augementics were not so much hidden as tastefully unimposing, especially in the light (or rather, in the shadow) of her impressive hairstyle – a multilayered spectacle of curled hair, ornate pins and bejeweled headdress.

“Master Alaric! Bless my heart! It is an honor, a pleasure to make your acquaintance! I am Boreana Karal, the mistress of this mission. How may I be of assistance? What brings you here,” she says, barely making a pause for his answer.

[Wyndeward]

]Alaric bowed gracefully and smiled. "My pleasure, Mistress Karal. I must say that you look lovely today. As for what brings me here, my Captain wishes to enter the Koronus Expanse in the near future. Any information you could provide me would be greatly appreciated."

[The_Shaman]

The mamsel bows energetically, all smiles and ebullient goodwill, then all claps your hand, all but dragging you as you by the hand as she gives you an impromptu tour of the premises, as she keeps up the conversation “But of course, of course! It would be my honor to extend you the mission’s full hospitality. We do our best to represent our glorious dynasty on this station, it simply would not do for a house like ours to pass unnoticed! I know the Expanse may be somewhat… dreary, compared to the wonders of the Imperium, but I am sure you will have no problems whatsoever. What sort of information would you be interested in? Are you planning on staying long?”

[Wyndeward]

The mamsel bows energetically, all smiles and ebullient goodwill, then all claps your hand, all but dragging you as you by the hand as she gives you an impromptu tour of the premises, as she keeps up the conversation “But of course, of course! It would be my honor to extend you the mission’s full hospitality. We do our best to represent our glorious dynasty on this station, it simply would not do for a house like ours to pass unnoticed! I know the Expanse may be somewhat… dreary, compared to the wonders of the Imperium, but I am sure you will have no problems whatsoever. What sort of information would you be interested in? Are you planning on staying long?”

I am uncertain of the Captain's schedule, but I fear it will be soon. My main questions have to do with, shall we say, current events -- anything out of the ordinary that you know about in the Expanse. Opportunities, rumors, notations of warp storms -- whatever you have that might be of practical use or future action would be appreciated. Alaric smiled winningly at mamsel, following her tour of the mission house with interest.

[silphael]

"Depend. That is what I've learned, to become the perfect counsel for a Rogue Trader. I would say my teachers were pretty successfull so far. As High Factotum, taking care of whatever trivial task is totally fine for me, and you'll find I have some accointances with the coldest parts of our trade. Anything profitable is fine, as long as it... marginally legal would I say. Of course, you're the one to decide, I'm merely pointing you what - oh so numerous - choices you have. If you want your dynasty to be associated with wealth as Midas is, the single question I would ask is that one : when? Before the end of the year? The decade? I will definitely prefer the latter, although the ambition needed for the first would be quite appreciated."

Still talking in secret tongue, he continues :

"In the Expense are so many treasures to hunt... planets to conquer, rare species to hunt, xenos to trade with... and rivals to steal from. For now, I think we could be looking for a new colony to implant somewhere. Nothing like that to ensure a lot of people will hear about us..."

[The_Shaman]

The bouncy matron seems to slow down slightly as she considers Alaric's words. "Hmm, it is said a wise captain never sets off if the navigator tells him to wait, but you know the stars better than I do, I am sure," she says in passing as she takes a left turn and beckons him to a small spiral stair, leading to a small, but well-stocked map room. "We are mostly a diplomatic representation, but if anything here catches your attention, let me know. Branimir here will assist you," she says, nodding towards a surprised and somewhat harried-looking youth in adept's robes, who raises his hand from a scribe's lectern "As for opportunities, well, there are some in Port Wander, but they depend on just what sort of ship - and captain - you are with,". There is a slight gleam in her eyes that seems slightly at odds wit her cheerful demeanor, as if she was not placed here only for her friendly personality.

[Wyndeward]

Alaric gave the matron a pleasant nod and turned to young adept. "Let us begin with a map of The Maw and progress from there."

[The_Shaman]

Mamzel Karal nods, barely missing a beat, and strides forward to the hapless adept, who receives a quick and thorough education in Alaric's standing parentage, etc, etc, which - although it might be presumed he is already familiar with - is delivered in such a rapid-fire mode that it leaves him somewhat nonplussed. His expression becomes marginally less sheepish when the maps are mentioned, and he proceeds to show Alaric the maps of the near Expanse under the somewhat unimpressed supervision of his boss.

((A navigation (warp) roll would help make sense of and evaluate the collection))

[ArcturusV]

"A colony... quite an undertaking," he said softly as he seemed to consider it, "It'd require a lot of favors cashed in that we may not have available. Contacts with the Ecclesiarchy for potential manpower, the blessings of the God-Emperor, priests to tend to the spiritual welfare. Contacts with the Adeptus Mechanicus for the sheer need for the Omnissiah's blessings required, contacts with the Administratum for the establishment of Charterist Routes and, the sheer manpower and materials. We may have relative wealth, but I doubt we can do it alone, nor do I think we have the necessary favors owed to cash in."

He frowned a little, "Though if we can find a suitable planet, and a potential backer or investor, it will come back to the table."

They were getting closer to their destination, just a few moments out when he continued on, "To start operations in the Expanse I am thinking Charting Routes and Planetary Surveys. Simple, low key, selling the information off to Navis Houses or other would be explorers can be easy profit. Little gain, true, but little loss. It also will serve as a good source of Reconnaissance for further operations, be it discovering lost tribes of Man, valuable resources, or indeed places to seed Humanity and expand our Dynasty."

"... there's a lot of eyes on me. I'll have to take risks, but measured and calculated."

[Wyndeward]

Mamzel Karal nods, barely missing a beat, and strides forward to the hapless adept, who receives a quick and thorough education in Alaric's standing parentage, etc, etc, which - although it might be presumed he is already familiar with - is delivered in such a rapid-fire mode that it leaves him somewhat nonplussed. His expression becomes marginally less sheepish when the maps are mentioned, and he proceeds to show Alaric the maps of the near Expanse under the somewhat unimpressed supervision of his boss.

((A navigation (warp) roll would help make sense of and evaluate the collection))

Roll Navigation(Warp) against a 51 (INT 46 plus 5 for warp guide)

[roll0]

[Wyndeward]

Roll Navigation(Warp) against a 51 (INT 46 plus 5 for warp guide)

[roll0]

Alaric listened gamely to the young adept, amazed at the young man's knowledge of the Warp!!

[The_Shaman]

Alaric is sadly unable to make much sense of the maps here. While the encryption matches the one used by his house, the way they were done is... well, personal to say the least. Or perhaps he is simply used to the particular format used on his previous vessel. Regardless, he is unsure if they would in any way be an improvement over those that he already uses, and it would certainly take a long time before he can read them well enough to risk the ship he's on.

[The_Shaman]

Eventually, your group makes its way towards the bustling Gilt Processional - the labyrintine and chaotic Commercia district of the station, where in one office hub among many rests the office of the Outer Ixiniad Guild of Pious Explorers and Provisioners of St. Crastine’s Fall, its crest showing a trio of tools – ancient astrolabe, dataslate and drill – bordered by heavy wheat stalks. The Guild representative at the front desk, an aged adept with a dark blue robe, magnificent grey beard and one cybernetic raises his head from a data-slate and eye looks at you with one wide eye for a second as the initial impression sinks in. He leaves the slate as he rises, then then bows deeply and greets you to their office In a low, stutiedly polite voice that betrays a hint of trepidation, “Greetings, august sirs and dame, and well met! Our guild is honored by your presence so quickly after your arrival. We are the noble and loyal Outer Ixiniad Guild of Pious Explorers and Provisioners of St. Crastine’s Fall, and we pride ourselves on being the exclusive supplier of the bounty of the Karelian, Malamir and Shawatha clusters to Port Wander. How may I be of service? We offer all matter of provender, perishables, durable goods and colonization and exploration equipment.”

A few seconds into his pitch, he nods slightly and continues with almost no interruption. “If you prefer, the senior representative of the Guild is available at the moment. He would gladly discuss business with you in his office. Would you follow me? “

[silphael]

"My Lord?" he says, stepping aside as his rank asks. His face shows a little of preoccupation, but it's difficult to guess what it means...

[ArcturusV]

Well, this is going a bit too swimmingly. Then again if it was an Agent of the House, smoothness should be expected, should it not? Arin gave the man a nod in answer to his last question, ready to follow along. He glanced back to his armsmen, and signaled them to wait at the door. It wouldn't do well to come tromping into a business meeting with some thugs. Besides, he felt confident enough in the outcome of anything with his Confessor and the Factotum watching his back. They might not be as militant as he was, but he knew they were capable hands in a fight and if three people couldn't break out of a trap, he doubted that 5 would. Light and speedy, that was the way to go.

He took a few moments during the walk to look around the place, looking suitably impressed at various displays or efficiencies along the way. It was the polite thing to do, was it not? He didn't spare too much attention to the flunky guiding them. Again trying to keep up appearances, let his crew deal with the crew of others, try to maintain that regal and powerful air of the Dynasty by being above such things as small talk with a wage slave dreg. That's what Lord-Captains did, right? Seemed right.

He straightened up his longcoat, a nervous little twitch, though he was hardly aware of it as such.

[The_Shaman]

The representative leads you past a few small rooms with toiling merchant factors and adepts and up a pair of stairs to what would appear to be the top of the structure. Surprisingly enough, the door and overall decor of the top floor are, if anything, a notch less pronounced than downstairs. His opens the door, leading you to a well-equipped room with a large table in the middle and several bookshelves and cogitator arrays near the walls, where a short, outwardly unimpressive man with a somewhat swarthy skin and robes of a medium-ranked trader from Imperial world rises to greet you with a slightly accented high gothic. "Lord Captain! It is a great honor and an unrivaled opportunity to meet you and your illustrious companions."

He gestures towards the adept who brought you here. "Thank you for informing me of the visit. I trust we will not be disturbed."

The older adept nods briefly and motions to leave.

((Presuming no one interrupts him))

Your host motions to you to sit down at the table, which someone has already prepared with refreshments. "My name is Arenius Scorn, Factor Discretus of the Guild. I apologize in advance that I must ask this rather impertinent question, but we have worked with the House of Salix in the past and yet you have me at a disadvantage - may I have the honor of hearing your names and your affiliations to this illustrious dynasty?"

[ArcturusV]

He remained standing. That military background still showing in so far as he stood at ease. It was just how he was, he seldom liked sitting down unless required, he was prone to pacing when he commanded the bridge or briefed the House Troops. Shoulders squared up, hands clasping his wrists behind his back. He had his chin up, chest out, and proudly proclaimed with clipped words, "Lord-Captain Arin Ryan, Bearer of the Salix Warrant." The words dumped like a ton of bricks, no softening the blow or overly dramatic theatrics. Or at least not as he saw it.

[colossusclub]

Jace continued his diligent work aboard the Hauberk of Faith. Receiving reports from the many stations within the ship, dolling out orders and settling the minor disputes that arose. He came to realize that he hasn't inspected the crew or planned their route yet and decided to do just that.

Starting with the crew and engineerium tech priests, Jace watched over their work. Fixing mistakes as they arose, breaking up disputes and ensuring adequate effort was put in by everyone. When his task was complete he found himself satisfied with the end result, everyone was working adequately.

Next up was the astro charts, to which Jace managed to accidently rile the experts with his "corrections"... being taken aback by their diligence, Jace retreated to prepare the course for their travel. After much discussion and research, Jace and the crew finished their planned route to the Maw. Jace felt that it will do.

He returned to his console and continued his work, sneaking in small naps when no reports were coming in.

[Wyndeward]

Alaric left the mission house no richer in knowledge than when he'd entered. With a nonchalant shrug, he made his way back to the markets, searching for oddities to add to his collection, preferably old maps and Navigation apparatus.

[silphael]

Looking down on everyone else in the round - except his Lord-Captain - , the elegant man presented himself.

"And I am Aesteban Aphesius Regias, High Factotum and personnal counsellor of his Lordship. If I may?"

(Assuming no word from his Lordship.)

"And you are to send me your reports. Don't forget to mention any information that seems misplaced to you, we never know when our underlings may think small changes can go unseen."

His tone of voice is calm, yet the menace is clear.

I'm gonna edit if anyone want to say something right after the "if I may"

[Leon]

Confessor Del'Thorn, attached to the Dynasty on Missionaria Galaxia directives

[The_Shaman]

The adept's voice is mostly calm, as he nods slightly at your presentations. He does not sit as you make no motion to do so himself and his face is, as ever, courteous, with the tone almost as much so. "I would be most happy to aid as I can, Lord Captain, sir and lady confessor, but our information archives show no one of those names at the respective positions. There can of course be good explanations, but we must show discretion in certain dealings. Lord Arin, my apologies, but as we have not met before - may I ask for proof of your position?"

The adept appears armed with nothing more than polite words and the bearing of a capable merchant, and yet appears unafraid. If one thing detracts from the very image of polite firmness, it is the fingers of his left hand, soundlessly tapping into his robe.

((Any skill tests you want to make? Off the top of my head, cyphers or various secret tongues may help to check for meaning in his words, body language , an appropriate lore to determine if this would be a typical request, charm, intimidate or bluff to influence him, etc. Let me know if you want to know if other skills may be appropriate)).

[colossusclub]

Jace makes a realization as he makes his rounds and inspections... his hand cannon could use an upgrade. He gets up and makes his way to the ships armory, looking for a red dot sight. If he is unable to find one, he may have to go out to purchase some out in the port.

[silphael]

"My Lord, you surely have a trinket of your position, some item that belang to your predecessor? That will most likely be enough to quickly end this."

Looking at the poor adept, he quickly adds : "Worry not, I don't think you have anything to fear for your suspicion, which is quite natural given the situation."

Searching under his clothes, he finally pulls out a sigilled document.

"Also, I have here a certified copy of one of the contracts I planned to reword once here. Will that be enough for you?" Handing the sheets, he concludes "If you do understand than those papers are worth more than your life that is, which you of course do."

[The_Shaman]

Jace's search leads him through several armor lockers, and to one somewhat curious realization - the ship is not short on guns, but seems somewhat low on modifications or more special upgrades. Were he a suspicious man, he might think this is by someone's design. One of the AdMech personnel in charge of weaponry and equipment, a stocky, eternally busy woman with a bionic arm and indeterminable (but no few) years, raises her half-metallic face from a hemicircular table full of schematics and looks him up, down, and up again. "Helmsman Jace. Right, this should be agreeable. Helmsman Jace, I have a proposition. You have the clearance to request purchases for the ship. At our current coordinates, it should be possible to purchase the upgrade you seek, as well as other things. This presents an auspicious opportunity. The blessings of the Omnissiah for our ship should be sought for, and you are in a position to facilitate this. Should you be able to arrange for the obtaining of enough flamers for the needs of the assault regiments guarding this Relic and its spirits, I will ensure any upgrade for your personal sidearms is duly integrated and purified, and offer support in your future endeavours to that effect. My meditations indicate this is an acceptable course, will you, Helmsman Jace verify this?"

[The_Shaman]

The adept examines the items presented for a while, and comparing the sigil to a book from the nearby shelf, before nodding. “These seem to match. My humble apologies, lords and lady, but this situation is very unusual.We enjoy close ties to and the patronage of your illustrious house, and in return we help with information or connections not directly affiliated to yourselves - as unofficial vassals, if you wish. The house of Salix was originally the major funder of this guild, even though this has since been diluted for the sake of convenience and, obviously, profit. However, we have not heard from our coordinator there in a long time. We were normally contacted by a Mr. Obediah Swain. I was hoping that you might elaborate on what has happened in the meantime - this information could help up immensely, also when it comes to us being in a position to serve your interests.”
He waits in case anyone might confirm they know of him or has something to fill in.

“We have also had some more unusual happenings recently. My predecessor and senior factor has been… missing for approximately 3 terran months, along with some sensitive data –including on dealings I was not fully privy to. Only last month, we have had a rather unexpected and surprisingly thorough inspection by the local administratum. It would seem they were looking for certain data they knew would be here. Except they weren’t, and I imagine someone very important has been disappointed. So as you see, milords and lady… you come in rather interesting times. What brings you to the expanse, and how can I help you - and myself – become wealthy and powerful beyond imagining?” he adds, permitting himself a smile.

[colossusclub]

Jace looked to the AdMech and listened intently. "I will look into it". With nothing more to say, Jace left and began utilizing his microbead to contact Silphael.


"This is Jace, if you and Arin are not busy I'd like to talk about us obtaining 30 - 100 flamers for the assault regiment. Oh and some weapon mods while we're at it."

[ArcturusV]

Investigation. Made sense to him, most likely part of the Inquisitorial Purge that had started a few solar cycles ago. With an organization as large as a Rogue Trader Dynasty and with as many contacts as it had, it had to take quite a bit of time and effort to sift through for the seeds of heresy. Course, was the man actually clear, or was he corrupted and being left as bait to draw in other corrupted arms? The thought ground through the back of his mind as he wondered just how much his purity was going to be tested and tainted by such dealings.

"It's a time of great rebuilding, new head of the house, new opportunities, new directions," Arin told the man, keeping his militaristic stance as he spoke. He glanced over towards his Factotum, "My associate here is expert in our new business plans, and we do need to procure some supplies for an expedition into the Expanse within the next few days." He didn't feel bad about leaking that 'secret'. It wasn't something you COULD keep secret, and honestly no Rogue Trader really comes by here for any other reason. "I believe Aesteban has a full list of required equipment for immediate concerns," he didn't mention that reliable contacts in this matter may find themselves with lucrative contracts as their expeditions went on and operations expanded. No merchant worth the name would need to be reminded of such a thing. A few days wasn't much time however, a good test of the guild's capability to pull strings and arrange things as needed.

[The_Shaman]

The guild factor judges the words for a few seconds, perhaps mulling about what he is being told and what not. “Of course, we will do what we can, milord. Naturally, our own charter is somewhat limited in what we can offer, but if you need something we cannot provide ourselves, I am certain we can get you in touch with the right people.”

He pauses for a few moments, and his facial expression changed, becoming a bit whimsical, “Speaking of rebuilding, there is one other thing that might interest you. It is a strange coincidence that we would learn about it at this time, but it is said that the Emperor sometimes works in unfathomable ways. As I was trying to gather my bearing after the disappearance of my predecessor, I found out that she had among other things engaged in research regarding your illustrious dynasty’s history, and had come across some very curious information about a project of the House dating from Amalaya Salix’ days, back in the 4th century. They would seem like just personal research – Factor Cabich Thie found history and heraldry quite fascinating – but the attention she seemed to have paid this story seemed significant, and I followed up on it as much as I was able. I would not presume to bore you with details you may already be aware of, however – how familiar are you with the world of Tserkvaya Si or the Lost Scion, Navid Salix?”

[ArcturusV]

"Neither leaps to mind," Arin replied in clipped tones, maintaning his stance as he stared directly at the Trader. He seldom blinked, or noticeably moved. It tended to be unsettling to those without a militaristic bearing, as everything was very tense and measured. "I take it this is some tall tale of golden cities lost in the sands of time, uncountable treasures buried on some forgotten world?" He sounded obviously skeptical, almost any bar in the Imperium had someone in it that would tell you some story like that.

[The_Shaman]

The slight man nods, as if expecting this response. His tone is informative, without much emotion: “A practical viewpoint. The expanse does not lack for stories about treasure planets. Some of these have even been proven right. According to the information my predecessor has gathered, Tserkvaya Si was the result of a fairly ancient attempt by the Eccleriarchy to set a mission on a planet deemed worthy to be a shrine world in the Segmentum Obscurus… Her guess, which to be honest I cannot completely verify, is that it took place sometime in the 34-35th Millenium. Apparently, the mission never arrived at its designated location, and her information indicates that due to navigation problems, they were not completely lost and rather veered wildly off course – namely, in what we today consider the Koronus expanse. The expanse boasts no lack of human presence from ancient explorations, and her information can be partially corroborated. Naturally, even if the colony is hopelessly lost, any artefacts that can be recovered would be nearly priceless both for their antiquity and for their innate value. I imagine the lady may be the more accurate judge of their spiritual value,” he says, gesturing to the missionary.

He crosses his fingers and his voice changes slightly, becoming more engaged. “So far, one of the many stories of the Expanse, though one which passes at least cursory examination. What we do know for certain, however, is that Alalaya considered this planet or something on it to be quite valuable. Although the dynasty was at that time involved in a serious trading lines conflict over interests in the Drusus marches, there are communiques directed to the man who was, until then, her second in command in the house fleet– her son and heir apparent, Navid Salix, authorizing him to organize an operation to explore and claim the planet. This operation also involved several other noteworthy figures in the household guard which would likely indicate the deployment of a significant number of the elite house troops. The astropathic messages indicate they went in, and an initial message indicated that they had found locations that confirmed “initial assumptions”, that local savages talked to as the homes of gods from a golden age. The communiques also indicate they did not go out. The heir apparent and some of the best and brightest of the house were lost on the planet. The situation in the Drusian Marches apparently did not allow for a secondary expedition, and eventually the Family was swept into the Macharian crusade, which tied in almost all assets. After that, there was a period of increased warp storm activity, the disruption WAAAGH! Gulgrog, Alayaya’s own death and, well, the expedition never came,” he adds in a “what can you do” gesture. "The whole affair was apparently not spoken of much inside the family, as you youself can attest, much less outside."

“The house did eventually recover, but some of its best scions disappeared on Tserkvaya Si – alongside with no few relics of the dynasty, and whatever made Alayaya Salix so interested in this place to part with some of her best men and women in a time the house was already engaged in a war. I am sure you are a busy and prudent man, milord, and I would not impose on you even if I could, but as you said, it is a time of rebuilding and new beginnings... and should you be interested in making a statement and securing your place in the annals of the House Salix, if not the Expanse at large, solving the mystery of Tserkvaya Si can go a long way. My personal opinion is that there is likely also a good amount of profit to be made. “

[silphael]

"Do you have any partial reports or notes about those travels? Any documents we could use to try to retrack her travels? Maybe some inventories from that time? Anything could help if we are to look for those treasures... and it would at least give me something to do of my free time during our long travels."

He smiles, last part of his sentence being light-hearted.

[The_Shaman]

"Alalaya's own travels, or this expedition? The lady was mostly active in other sectors, but had some travels near what is today Winterscale's reach. I have some information about where she went, but her own logs and notes are mostly kept in the house archives. From the expedition itself we have some coordinates, reports, and astropathic communiques. It was not meant to be a public expedition, apparently," the factor explains. "Naturally, you will have copies of all reports and can peruse the originals - in fact, I would not mind if you took some of the material in case of a secondary inspection, just in case."

[Leon]

Ravia stares at the wall, the floor and the ceiling for some time while humming a prayer of patience and then departs mentioning needing to see a cleric about a Canid

[Wyndeward]

Alaric wandered the marketplace, stopping at each stall in turn, looking for oddities or interesting items.

[silphael]

"Well, I will need both her travels' and that expedition's documents, that will give us a fair amount of informations to start with. Also, do you have information about parts of our network ? People we could meet, place we should visit, any matter worth reporting that happened during - and before - the lack of leadership the house had lately solved ?"

Also, I forgot to ask what is "Factor Discretus" meaning...

[The_Shaman]

"You will get access to as much information as we have, of course," the Factor nods. "I must tell you, though, it is not as much as we could hope for. The whole operation seems to have been pretty hush-hush, and most of the house resources were used elsewhere at the time. It will provide information on the location and corroborate the story somewhat, but it is a somewhat risky affair. Depending on what you find, it can be quite profitable, and either way I expect it would support the reputation of the house - and you as its scions - significanly."

He pauses briefly before continuing, seemingly uncertain. "Our point of contact is - or perhaps was - Mr. Obediah Swain, who to the best of my knowledge was the house Factor for such affairs. We have not heard from him recently, however, and from the way things are here I have the strong suspicion things did not go well for him. I would, of course, appreciate any further information - it could help us navigate the current house politics better. We have some low-level informants in Port Wander, but for anything bigger you should look closer to home."



Alaric finds plenty of curios, but little of actual value ((OOC: Let me know if you are looking for something rare and/or valuable)). In a side end of the hall, however, he notices a largish croud and noise that is more likely than not caused by public speech or sermon of some sort.

[Wyndeward]

Alaric wanders down to hear what has gathered the crowd, musing to himself that the marketplaces just weren't up to his standards.

[The_Shaman]

As Alaric approaches, he hears a loud, impassioned voice, and soon sees the source - a firebrand preacher, medium of build (though leaning to heavy) and grey of hair and goatlike beard, who stands on an improptu podium of crates as he extols the masses. "For I say to you, be ever ready! Soon there will be a chance for the children of Him on Terra to march on proudly through this dark and unmapped place, and bring it under the yoke of Holy Terra, as it was meant to be! Those with means, bring funds! Those without, bring your toil and your zeal! Did Saint Drusus not spill sweat and blood to bring countless worlds under the leadership of the Emperor? Did he not extol all who served unto him and their descendents unto the uncounted generation not to do likewise? YOU are these descendents! The bread you eat and the recaf you drink, they come from the worlds the Saint secured. The clothes that warm you and the steel that keeps you comes from wolds the Saint mastered. All that keeps you alive and well is because the Saint and those with him suffered, warred and triumphed. Will you, after all that, let the Saint's words fall on deaf ears and his mission fail, because YOU did not have the heart to carry it, while you ate the fruits of his labor like so many maggots?" On and on he continues, extolling the masses to prepare and be ready for the inevitable push to expand into the Expanse

"Master Alaric, please be cautious. Such crowds are dangerous if excited, and clerics like that one are quick to latch on anyone who seems of importance. Let us not stay long" Talia, the large oathsword bodyguard who has been with him for nearly two decades now, whispers over the intercom. The large feralworlder has not shown any fear, but she has a good eye for sensing a possible danger, and plenty of experience.

[Wyndeward]

As Alaric approaches, he hears a loud, impassioned voice, and soon sees the source - a firebrand preacher, medium of build (though leaning to heavy) and grey of hair and goatlike beard, who stands on an improptu podium of crates as he extols the masses. "For I say to you, be ever ready! Soon there will be a chance for the children of Him on Terra to march on proudly through this dark and unmapped place, and bring it under the yoke of Holy Terra, as it was meant to be! Those with means, bring funds! Those without, bring your toil and your zeal! Did Saint Drusus not spill sweat and blood to bring countless worlds under the leadership of the Emperor? Did he not extol all who served unto him and their descendents unto the uncounted generation not to do likewise? YOU are these descendents! The bread you eat and the recaf you drink, they come from the worlds the Saint secured. The clothes that warm you and the steel that keeps you comes from wolds the Saint mastered. All that keeps you alive and well is because the Saint and those with him suffered, warred and triumphed. Will you, after all that, let the Saint's words fall on deaf ears and his mission fail, because YOU did not have the heart to carry it, while you ate the fruits of his labor like so many maggots?" On and on he continues, extolling the masses to prepare and be ready for the inevitable push to expand into the Expanse

"Master Alaric, please be cautious. Such crowds are dangerous if excited, and clerics like that one are quick to latch on anyone who seems of importance. Let us not stay long" Talia, the large oathsword bodyguard who has been with him for nearly two decades now, whispers over the intercom. The large feralworlder has not shown any fear, but she has a good eye for sensing a possible danger, and plenty of experience.

Alaric maintained his distance and eases away from the street preacher. "One wonders, if he is so ablaze with desire to expand into the Expanse, why does he stay here exhorting other to go?"

With that thought, he motioned Talia that it was time to make their way back to the ship.

[The_Shaman]

"So I tell you," the preacher continues. "Be not content to sit here and waste your days. Every day, new ships travel towards the stars to aid the Emperor's vision. Those of you with skills, take up with them - seek them out. Those of you without, master crafts and arms, so that you too can follow. In time, each of you will have the chance - do not waste it!"

[roll0]

The missionary, as he scans the small crowd, notices the ornate dresses of Alaric and his minders, and steps down from the small podium and walks in their direction. “You there, sir,” he approaches, and the eyes of about a hundred people turn towards you. “You have the look of a travelled man. Perhaps one who travels yet?”

Alaric all but senses the bodyguards draw breath.”Don’t turn, sir. We try to get him off without this escalating, will be easier if he doesn’t recognize you” Bayan, the other oathsword, whispers in quick code over the intercom.

(As for the other part of the shore leave party - do you want to ask the guild factor something more or handle the rest ooc and check what else you can do here?)

[silphael]

Now out of the House, Aesteban took direction of the market - not the kind of market where everyday luxuries are exposed, the kind of place where you can at the same time buy 10 tonnes of weapons and 300 of food - and answered his comlink.

"Flamers? That should be doable. And weapon mods? Depending on what you want, I can try to furbish a small cargo room with spares, that should allow us to apply mods when needed... if you know how to build those that is. If I don't know what you need I can't help you on that. Anything else that should have been added to my notes far before we reach the station?"

OOC: I know you talked about it after reaching the place. But Aesteban assumes it's definitely the kind of thing you should have thought before reaching the place, and he wants to keep everything organized and in check...

[Wyndeward]

"So I tell you," the preacher continues. "Be not content to sit here and waste your days. Every day, new ships travel towards the stars to aid the Emperor's vision. Those of you with skills, take up with them - seek them out. Those of you without, master crafts and arms, so that you too can follow. In time, each of you will have the chance - do not waste it!"

[roll0]

The missionary, as he scans the small crowd, notices the ornate dresses of Alaric and his minders, and steps down from the small podium and walks in their direction. “You there, sir,” he approaches, and the eyes of about a hundred people turn towards you. “You have the look of a travelled man. Perhaps one who travels yet?”

Alaric all but senses the bodyguards draw breath.”Don’t turn, sir. We try to get him off without this escalating, will be easier if he doesn’t recognize you” Bayan, the other oathsword, whispers in quick code over the intercom.

(As for the other part of the shore leave party - do you want to ask the guild factor something more or handle the rest ooc and check what else you can do here?)

Alaric proceeds away as if the question had never been asked.

[The_Shaman]

The Factor of the Guild attentively listens to Esteban's instructions. "We try to avoid overtly interfering in the weapons market. It draws a lot of attention," he says, not all that apologetically. "However, we do our best to know a lot of people and have some favors owed. If you would come, Sir Aestheban,"

[The guild's aid will give you a +30 on the commerce test to "improve" your PF for this deal. On issues related to exploration or supply, they can act as a junior partner and pseudo-add +10 on the PF roll)

Elsewhere, Bayan makes a hidden gesture to Alaric and Talia to move along, as he approaches the priest with surprising suaveness "My deepest regards, exalted one. Sadly, my master is being summoned by the representatives of the Imperium and must appear there with all due haste - anything less would be a grave disrespect. He deeply regrets having to leave so quickly, but I will do my best to ensure your plea reaches him with all necessary detail. How may Master Alaric aid you in your rightful efforts?"

Charm Roll vs 35
Scrutiny Roll [roll]1d100 vs 40

The missionary quickly looks over the bodyguard and energetically shakes his head, the gleam in his eyes becoming only brighter as he turns his long, wrinked face towards Alaric. "Do not seek turn me away, young one. Have you no sense for the glory the Emperor offers us all? Is a minute of delay more important than the chance for a new colony, a new world brought to the expanse? All these people are ready and eager to serve the greater cause, and any representatives your master would visit with so little pomp can appreciate the importance of spiritual guidance and the wisdom of the Holy Synods."

With that, he motions to continue towards the navigator, and the myriad of people following him makes stopping him by force a risky proposition. As he spoke, Bayan had used the chance to briefly look over his clothes for possible hidden weapons, and confirmed in brief code that he is clear apart from the not entirely ceremonial hammer. "Do I force him back or allow him without weapon", he quickly whispers in the com link.

[The_Shaman]

Re-rollin', because I apparently can't notice a formatting error:
[roll0] vs 40

[colossusclub]

Jace, upon hearing Aesteban's comm-link responded with "That sounds about right, though I do not know how to apply such things. The many priests should though, I was thinking some scopes, red dot sights and other such weapon mods should suffice."

[ArcturusV]

It seemed a little too good to be true. It was a golden opportunity. Finding some ancient mystery planet, claiming vast treasures, cementing his position within the Dynasty and marking the Salix Warrant as a mover and power to be reckoned with in the Koronus Expanse. It irked him, it forced his hand here in Port Wander, he had to accept the mission to cement his building reputation and to solidify his contacts. It was also likely a wild goose chase with no chance of success, he'd have to have someone more knowledgeable than him to look over the records to really determine that. If he copped out, it showed weakness. If he failed, it showed weakness. At some level he had to take this, and make SOMETHING out of it. Worst case scenario if the entire thing was bust it could perhaps be used set up a rival Captain and make some minor profit, but that was clearly showing his own inability to handle this affair.

Politics... it was so much easier back in the military. Clear objectives and obvious performance marks, with clear enemies. As he left the house he couldn't help but feel that the men he just left were not truly on his side, at least not yet. Their position was too cushy, they had everything to gain from his success to be sure, in both material wealth that he might gain, but also in reputation and influence with the fortunes of the Dynasty behind them. They also had nothing to lose with his failure however. Any records they handed to him, they could likely sell to another would be fortune seeker in the expanse. Their success wasn't dependent on his.

He made a note that he needed to assign some leverage to this place at his earliest convenience. Find someone far more loyal to himself, reward him for his loyalty with a command rank in this place. The established men of the house would likely balk at it, but it would help remind them just where their loyalties should lie.

With his guards in tow, he made his way, not to the armory markets, but to the scavenger bazaars of Footfall. Where those who salvaged the wrecks of Traders who were incapable of shooting the maw made their living. Rough place, but he was used to it. Even without his guards he would have felt comfortable here. There's just that way you walk, confident, and most importantly, dangerous. You keep your eyes open and your ears pricked up for signs, it was always clear if something was going down if you payed attention. Children used as messengers running about, people staring, conversations falling silent, people getting a bit twitchy and unwilling to meet your eye.

Aesteban and the others may not have liked him rolling around such places, preferred if he stayed in his Tower of Luxury and the like... but rank did have its privileges.

Making his way down to an old contact of his, a scavenger clan family that went by the name of Warrick, he exchanged a few smiles, a few waves, and beamed brightly as he settled down to deal with the patriarch of the Warrick Clan. It was his type of business meeting, formalities, but ones he was more comfortable with. Cracking open a homebrewed bottle of Rotgut, lounging around and swapping stories about some of the strange things they had seen in their travels, asking about each other's family. There was definitely a happy atmosphere to the whole thing before the real business got started, old friends who had met each other many, many times over the decades of Arin's operations even before inheriting the Warrant of Trade.

"Well my friend..." Arin broke the conversation, "There is one thing you can do for me. Little venture I got going... and I'll need myself a nice stable little place to set up shop while working. Sort of place that I can set up where I need, and isn't going to get overrun by a Grox someone kicked in the balls," he let out an easy grin and a short laugh as he settled back in the chair, "You got the best stuff in the Port, sure you managed to scrounge up some ship with the right stuff? And you know I'm always good for makin' it worth your while..."

And Arin is looking ahead towards if they actually DO find the planet, and probably have to operate in territory that may be hostile in one form or another.

Thus for his one Acquisition he's going for: Good Craftsmanship Jovian-Pattern Modular Hab Base, as can be found in Into the Storm.

Short list: It's a base that can be landing crafted down/orbitally dropped down. Enclose and can last in Toxic/Inhospitable places. Includes a Barracks for up to 40 people, Commissary, Medicae Facility, command and communications hub with Vox and Augur Arrays, two storage sheds, a small genatorium, and a prefab landing pad. Good Craftsmanship also gives a Prefab'd bulwark that surrounds the base, with two Saber Defense Platforms with twin linked heavy stubbers.

Acquisition Test: [roll0] vs baseline PF of 48. -30 for Extremely Rare Item, -10 for Good Craftsmanship, +30 for Single Item, No applicable Peers or the like, Final Mark of 38 + Commerce Modifiers.

And yes, Commerce, I 'played the game' with the Merchant, smooth talked him, etc, to try to get a good deal out of the guy. Well, hopefully. We'll see how well I did/badly he falls for it. <.<

Commerce Test: [roll1] vs 32 Fellowship, +0 Training in Commerce, +10 (possibly) for Renown Warrant, -5 for "Constant Combat Training" Homeworld Trait on Interaction Tests not having to do with Combat/Military matters, at DM's Discretion. Baseline Mark of 37.

[The_Shaman]

((ArcturusV, can you please try an rogue traders lore test at +30 regarding the name Obediah Swain)

The factor adds "One other thing, milord - I will continue looking for a possible trace where my predecessor has disappeared to, but if you could also find something - or better yet, manage to locate her - that would be even better. Personally, I believe she has always been loyal to the family, and the manner of her disappearance would suggest she might have known and wanted to avoid the investigation, and the documents that are missing are definitely ones that better not fall to any other hands. Both the documents in her possession and her personal knowledge and contacts make her a very valuable asset in the Expanse, if she can be recovered. The same, well... make her very dangerous if she is being controlled by a hostile party."

At the scavenger bazaar, Arin found the "turf" of his associates fairly easily. Things looked like they had improved a fair bit since the last time... which, granted, was not that recently. After the initial confusion born from the somewhat different uniform Arin was wearing this time - and the fact that the last time was not all that recent - an uneven chorus of welcomes and generally good wishes met the captain as he advanced in their warren.

Joram Warrick, a tall, lean weasel of a man and one of the three leaders of the clan - and the one Arin had done the most business with - rose to meet him. "Arin," he wheezed "Throne and stars, good to see you are still around. Heard some stories you did some pretty crazy thing last time you were around. Glad to see it's worked out for you." The hand that clapped Arin's from inside the bodyglove was comparatively thin and almost frail, but firm. The older man's green eye (the organic one) - twinkled as he took in the insignia and marks of office Arin wore. "Should I add titles now?"

He considered the rogue trader's request for a few seconds, then nodded at one of his clansmen. "Nikor, get in touch with Grys, check how her op is going. Have her come personally if she's not in the belts."

When he turned to Arin, Joram's face was ever so slightly downcast. "We don't have one at present, Arin. Business has been fairly brisk recently, but around a month ago one of the local consortia - Kislevski Stars - really stepped it up. Scooped a lot of things related to exploration in somewhat of a hurry, and at pretty good prices. Word is - though it could be just a rumor - they are working for a client planning something in the Foundling worlds."

"I don't have anything of the sort you want right now, and I can't think of any of my usual partners who might. One of our salvage ops could be repurposed to this end, but it won't be finished soon, and we don't have the spares to bring it up to a good standard for all possible situations. I should have the full current info shortly, for now - anything in particular you want to stress?"

Around thirty minutes later, a Grys Warrick, a young-ish woman with modified work suit, showing the signs of the clan, walks in to the respectful acknowledgement of the locals. She is introduced to Arin and briefed on the situation (she recognizes the name and greets him politely with the tone and wording befitting a friend of the clan, not just a trading partner), and after a second of thought shakes her head. "We can hurry the work if we get a lot of additional manpower and work with some outsiders, but the current salvage itself only goes so far. In the near term, we can cobble something together, but there will be compromises with the request."

((Essentially, this can get you a poor quality base if you are willing to wait a few weeks. This is counting the bonus from the Guild ))

[ArcturusV]

"It really is a hell of a thing," Arin chatted with Joram. "One moment you're chasin' some renegade with a mark on his head, the next?" he just shook his head and held his arms wide as if to symbolize all of the rushed insanity possible in the galaxy, "I got MEN for crying out loud. Can you imagine that? Old rough neck like me out on the fringe suddenly has people? Got myself a fancy new place and these people lookin' at me like I'm the refined scion of Sector Lord Hax?" he barked out a short laugh, and shook his head at the sheer insanity of it, but it was all in good fun.

"Never knew how you dealt with it you know," he shook his head looking over the salvage clan fondly. As the young lass came up, he nodded, "Get me a Data-slate, I'll connect you with some vox spirit tunings to get in touch with your opposite among my number. I'm sure he can hammer out the details better," Arin offered, and if a Data-slate was provided gave some Vox Codes that should get the Warricks in contact with his Seneschal and chief business tycoon.

"He's a bit nambly to me. Real high born type you know, but good head on his shoulders. So don't be takin' too much offense if he fusses a bit, you know the type right?" Arin smiled at Joram. He was about as far from that type as possible.

"Did I tell ya that I got married?" he added, apparently considering the business details "on the way to be hammered out" and just socializing with an old friend. "Yeah, real firecracker of a woman too, surprised the hell out of me. Like a freakin' warpstorm out of nowhere, all you can do is just pray to the God-Emperor and hope you ride through mostly intact." He let out a deep, rich laugh, "Maybe you get the family together, we do a nice dinner and some drinks before I leave. I'm sure she'd like it."

He settled back in his chair, to finish his drink, and his pleasant visit before more pressing business found him having to leave. There just never was enough time to catch up with his old friends anymore. Someone always needed him for something.

[Wyndeward]

The Factor of the Guild attentively listens to Esteban's instructions. "We try to avoid overtly interfering in the weapons market. It draws a lot of attention," he says, not all that apologetically. "However, we do our best to know a lot of people and have some favors owed. If you would come, Sir Aestheban,"

[The guild's aid will give you a +30 on the commerce test to "improve" your PF for this deal. On issues related to exploration or supply, they can act as a junior partner and pseudo-add +10 on the PF roll)

Elsewhere, Bayan makes a hidden gesture to Alaric and Talia to move along, as he approaches the priest with surprising suaveness "My deepest regards, exalted one. Sadly, my master is being summoned by the representatives of the Imperium and must appear there with all due haste - anything less would be a grave disrespect. He deeply regrets having to leave so quickly, but I will do my best to ensure your plea reaches him with all necessary detail. How may Master Alaric aid you in your rightful efforts?"

Charm Roll [roll0] vs 35
Scrutiny Roll [roll0] vs 40

The missionary quickly looks over the bodyguard and energetically shakes his head, the gleam in his eyes becoming only brighter as he turns his long, wrinked face towards Alaric. "Do not seek turn me away, young one. Have you no sense for the glory the Emperor offers us all? Is a minute of delay more important than the chance for a new colony, a new world brought to the expanse? All these people are ready and eager to serve the greater cause, and any representatives your master would visit with so little pomp can appreciate the importance of spiritual guidance and the wisdom of the Holy Synods."

With that, he motions to continue towards the navigator, and the myriad of people following him makes stopping him by force a risky proposition. As he spoke, Bayan had used the chance to briefly look over his clothes for possible hidden weapons, and confirmed in brief code that he is clear apart from the not entirely ceremonial hammer. "Do I force him back or allow him without weapon", he quickly whispers in the com link.

"Allow him to approach, but be prepared to deal with this rabble, should it come to it."

Alaric throws back his hood, showing his third eye. "You were going to ask me about traveling the Expanse?"

[silphael]

A Calixian adpet? With medical and xenological knowledge? That is one much needed addition to our crew.

Readying a message for this adept, Aesteban heads toward the ship.

The message will only talk about a possible position, nothing about his particular skills nor mine. I will take some time to inquiry about his possible ties (or inimities) with the Inquisition, and I won't give him any information about me anyway. Any sensible information I mean.

[The_Shaman]

Joram nods, giving Arin a sour smile. "Yeah, I had pegged you to run a gang of mercs, perhaps, but hardly more. As it is, I left you to Him on Terra to guess what you'll end up like. And hey, don't sweat the missus. Happens to the best of us, it does. She with you or did you leave her somewhere safe and far away?"

Elsewhere...

It is a testament to the cleric's wits (if not his overall good sense) that he reacts with nothing more drastic than a quick gasp and a whispered prayer. A second later he gathers himself and nods. "It seems the Emperor has indeed guided your footsteps to us, er, esteemed Navigator. Me and my brethren seek to continue the call sent forth by the most holy Saint Drusus and see all the worlds in the expanse brought into the fold of the Emperor. For that, of course, men and women of faith must hold strongholds of the Imperium on these worlds and the between them. Alas, many of the potentates of the Imperium do not see this as a priority, which is why we must urge action. Is your captain - and you, of course - planning to ply the further stars?"

Elsewhere yet...

Aesteban will get a mostly positive, but non-commital answer that indicates interest and further inquiry who is behind the offer (unless he gave any particular information on the name and dynasty, which I presume he did not). Whoever the message is for is apparently not keen on burning any bridges, but seems to not rush in, either.

[Wyndeward]

Elsewhere...

It is a testament to the cleric's wits (if not his overall good sense) that he reacts with nothing more drastic than a quick gasp and a whispered prayer. A second later he gathers himself and nods. "It seems the Emperor has indeed guided your footsteps to us, er, esteemed Navigator. Me and my brethren seek to continue the call sent forth by the most holy Saint Drusus and see all the worlds in the expanse brought into the fold of the Emperor. For that, of course, men and women of faith must hold strongholds of the Imperium on these worlds and the between them. Alas, many of the potentates of the Imperium do not see this as a priority, which is why we must urge action. Is your captain - and you, of course - planning to ply the further stars?"


It is my understanding that we will be entering the Koronus Expanse, yes. If you would like, I can carry your petition to him for you, if you wish to seek to colonize one of the planets therein.

[The_Shaman]

The preacher's eyes glimmer. "There are few among us to safely establish a colony, but should your captain be on such an endeavour, many here will gladly join such an outpost. Of course, if he plans to long travel in the Expanse, his fleet himself would constitute a worthy bastion of the Emperor. Many here will gladly join, should he wish it - myself included."

[silphael]

After this globally disappointing answer, Aesteban sent another message, using a symbol of a secondary member of the affiliated guild.

"Adept,

I have taken personnal interest in your peculiar skills, and I am ready to help you hide from other interested parties, by allowing you to take a seat on board of a ship that will leave within the week. I won't be able to offer you any protection after that moment, but I am fairly sure our arrangment will please you anyway.

Be ready to embark at dock I-02."

Basically, that note it worded as a personnal note, indicating basically that I will be merciless if he refuses to join, possibly by giving informations about his location to the inquisition, but that any association will be incredibly rewarding.

[Wyndeward]

The preacher's eyes glimmer. "There are few among us to safely establish a colony, but should your captain be on such an endeavour, many here will gladly join such an outpost. Of course, if he plans to long travel in the Expanse, his fleet himself would constitute a worthy bastion of the Emperor. Many here will gladly join, should he wish it - myself included."

"Then I shall bring your petition to the Captain"