Sea of Stars - IC II

[Destro_Yersul]

Sea of Stars
+++Episode 5 - Continued+++

OOC Thread (http://www.giantitp.com/forums/showthread.php?600815-Sea-of-Stars-OOC-II)
New OOC thread (https://forums.giantitp.com/showthread.php?640569-Sea-of-Stars-OOC-III)

Echo's stasis cells were transferred to the planet without difficulty. Unfortunately, the colonists proved less than adept at capturing any of the Blue Caernun. The creatures were swift, and after one colonist was badly electrocuted, the rest became wary of getting too close. Of course, it didn't help that they had no specialised equipment available - acquiring some nonlethal weapons, maybe some sleep toxins, or a crate of webbers, would certainly aid the endeavour.

[PotatoGolem]

That is quite enough squabbling! Macharius snaps at the crew. We are going to Viatrames to trade for the components we need. Perhaps we shall return to set up a more permanent base. Perhaps we shall not. If we do, your various opinions as to which allies we should involve have been noted. The last comes with a cold look at Ravia. Now, if we are quite done wasting time, let us be off.

As they prepare to leave the system, Macharius orders the orbital station to install more firepower to be ready in case of a raid.


Command the station vs 112 [roll0]
Commerce for the parts we need vs 92 (assuming we can find someone who knows about Rogue Traders and Houses) [roll1]

[Destro_Yersul]

Anika

After the other members of the command staff had departed, Anika remained on the planet to explore. Repairs to the ships would take some time, after all, no reason not to mount a short expedition. The planet's higher gravity, she found, made any climbing in the mountains especially arduous, and the roiling storm between the two higher peaks showed no signs of ever abating, so after a day or two of scrambling about in the foothills taking mineral samples, she switched to exploring the forests. The trees here were deciduous, narrow leaves joined to branches with thick stems. Each tree was individually thicker and shorter than those on other worlds, their heavy branches exceptionally sturdy looking. These were home to birds, and other small creatures, as well as some sort of camouflaged, arboreal small predator. Anika frequently found piles of tiny bones piled at the bases of trees, where some hapless small animal had fallen victim, but only once did she catch any sight of the perpetrator; once, passing beneath a tree, she heard a sort of clinking rustle, and caught sight of a pair of faceted yellow eyes watching her from above. The creature was a small felinid, smaller than a cyber-mastiff, and seemed uninterested in doing more than watching this strange intrusion upon its domain. It looked like it was carved from rock, with a series of crystalline spines running along its back, but it was certainly alive: when it caught her looking at it, it melted into the shadows and she lost sight. She only ever saw the one.

Everyone

Macharius returned to the station, and immediately began taking on supplies, collecting food and water from the Station's Arboretum decks and haggling with the station's merchants over spare weaponry. What could be had, he got, loading the bays and hallways of the Sting and Fury with crates. Ravia and Hannabel spent their time directing repairs, getting as much of the damage sustained in the Processional battle patched up as they could.

Jonell stayed for a week, directing colonists and re-supplying his ship. He maintained high spirits throughout, dining cordially with Macharius whenever the opportunity presented itself, sometimes on Macharius' ship, and sometimes on the ailed Fist. His plan while Macharius went off in search of men and equipment was to do a circuit of all his other colonies, ensure that they were running well and collect profits or goods for transport, and finish his circuit with a trip to Solace Encarmine for Wintercale's party. This sort of party turned out to be a semi-regular affair, Winterscale flaunting his great wealth and using the opportunity to make deals. Most of the active Rogue Traders in the Expanse were invited, with the exception of Aspyce Chorda, though it was not expected that everyone would be able to make it. Wrath Umboldt, for example, had never shown up, though he had always made a point of sending a gift and his thanks for the invitation. It was generally believed that Winterscale continued to invite him more as a respect, and a courtesy, than out of any belief he would ever actually come.

At the end of the two weeks, after the components had been installed, and Ravia had completed what repairs were possible given the constraints of time and material, they made ready to set sail. Pytho announced that he intended to stay with the colony, to help oversee Macharius' interests on the station and the planet, and to spend time with the Choir. The chambers had been removed from the Sting to make room for the control center for the newly installed cogitator interlinks, and installed on the station at the same time. Work had just been completed, and Port Davis would now be able to serve as an Astropathic Communications relay when needed. One of the Choir's other senior Astropaths was promoted to serve as chief Astropath aboard the ship, and Pytho made the rounds, saying his goodbyes to all of the crew. At last, they were ready to go.

Ascending to the Navigator's tower, Kennoch took control of the Navigation systems for the first major voyage in a long time. The Astronomicon was strong, here, a clearly visible beacon in his mind's eye. The journey would ordinarily have been long, but the ship's fast engines, and his own ability, should dramatically shorten the time required. The first half of the voyage, indeed, was unremarkable. Only once did he have to divert his planned course, steering around a shoal of hungry warp predators that he had noticed just far enough in advance. It was as they reached the halfway point that things grew challenging, and he was forced to take a circuitous route around dangerous rapids.

The voyage passed slowly, interminably, and Anika was reminded of the ancient poetry from which Moloch had drawn some of his titles. A painted ship upon a painted ocean, becalmed, inching ever so slowly forwards through the warp. Each hour dragged on, mercilessly, the crew often trying to find recreational pursuits with which to fill the infinite expanse of time it seemed to be taking to arrive. At last, Echo announced they had arrived, and the ship translated from warp, time snapping back to normal as it did so. Many of the crew were on edge, clamouring for more shore leave after a trip that felt like it had taken far longer than it actually had; checking the chronometers, they had made record speed, crossing much of the Expanse in only a single real-time week.

Viatrames was now a pale yellow globe, floating in front of the ship's viewports, no blue or white to be seen anywhere. A world of scorching dunes and baking rocks, where humanity had insisted on scratching out a living. It crossed Macharius' mind that the planet would likely make a fine penal world, a place to send all the dissidents and riff-raff, where the very act of living there seemed punishment enough in itself. The Fury had not yet arrived, delayed slightly by the slower speed of its warp drives as compared to the hugely fast ones installed on the Sting. There were, true to Jonell's word, no orbital defenses, and nothing much to suggest that the planet was even inhabited. Anika ran a check with the augers, and the amount of electromagnetic activty she found suggested a world barely on the edge of industrialization.

[Haval]

Having avoided work for the moment, and with little else to do but read primers on the Eldar language, Anika was finding the planet surprisingly relaxing. She will try to take a picture of the felinid even though it might have little reason to show itself again.

On her return she'll make a point of being present for the installation of the new cogitator. If what it was supposed to do was true then they had better understand how it worked.

Later

Anika was pacing irritably on the bridge when they finally emerged into real space. For all that it could easily have been worse the warp voyage was hardly pleasant. You only had to think about how long this was taking them subjectively and how long it would take the crew or the food to hold out. Even having arrived objectively quickly wouldn't matter if they were stuck in the warp for a few years. 'I'd get a clock in here if I thought it would keep proper time' she mutters to no one in particular. To Echo, 'Is that sort of thing likely to happen on the way back?'

'Anyway. No obvious nasty surprises in the void or on the planet. There's every chance they can't even tell that we're here. Are there any vox signals?'

[Blarghy]

"It is not unlikely, is not is not" Kennoch replied. Despite the quirk of time, he seemed pleased with himself. Not every transition back to the Materium was so smooth or accurate; he feared that they'd reappear somewhere less convenient. Kennoch also decided not to trouble the rest of the command staff with news of what they could've encountered. At least now he knew what to watch out for on their return voyage. His personal notes, locked securely in his tower, were full of sketches that would horrify a normal man. Emperor willing, they'd only stay among those pages.

[rax]

In the weeks before the journey to Viatrames, Hannabel assists Ravia as best as she can in supervising repairs to the Fury Incandescent and - most importantly - the installation of the cogitator interlink on Manticore's Sting. As the ancient archeotech system comes online, she is on the bridge, glued to the screens providing performance readouts of the Sting's core cogitator. Slowly at first, then faster and faster, long dormant systems activate, as lights and screens that had been gathering dust for years flicker to life. "Oh my baby, those jealous bastards crippled you, didn't they?" she whispers to the ship, her hands resting on the helm. "But you'll be alright soon. I promise, you will be whole again!"

Once the repairs on the Fury and Sting are completed, Hannabel invites Elena Dassel, Hector and Montus over to the Sting for a celebratory private dinner and gossip session. In between drinks and courses, she interviews them about the mood and morale on the Fury after events in the Processional and fills them in on the basics of the upcoming trip to Viatrames.

This is basically just a bonding/morale-boosting exercise. Hannabel turns on the charm (roll for that in the OOC thread), especially on Hector and Montus, but she's also genuinely interested in what the three of them think about the Processional and events there.

At Viatrames
"Would you look at that!" Hannabel exclaims as the yellow dust ball fills the viewing screens. "Definitely no greener grass to fight over down there!"

"Jonell said there was a Mechanicus mission of sorts down there. How about we try and contact them to set up a meet with interested locals?"

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius spends the intervening weeks exploring the planet, both by shuttle and on foot. He leads the Praetorians on numerous hikes "for the constitution, what?" The occasional foolish predator is swiftly dealt with by their hellguns. He seems even more bucked up than usual as they begin their latest adventures.

I say, not much to look at, is it? Rather a desolate place. I'm in no mood to establish a winter palace here, hoho! So, we either land in force and impress the natives or contact the Mechanicus. Thoughts, chaps?

[Leon]

++Contacting the Mechcanicus Enclave is the logical thing to do++

[Kaptin Keen]

Is there any pressing reason we cannot do both? We are no military threat to the mechanicus - although they too might be suitably impressed - but a grand entrance would work well towards making the locals amenable to diplomacy.

[rax]

"Well, we came to trade, not conquer, and Jonell didn't say anything about needing to show off his guns to get what he needed. Obviously, we shouldn't make out like we're pushovers either, but why waste time making a big song and dance when we're just here to pick up machines and men?"

OOC: I don't recall Jonell indicating that the natives are overly hostile. He certainly didn't say he needed to cow them with displays of military might. That could be because we didn't ask outright, but he doesn't seem like the sort of chap that would withhold important first contact information just because. He has a stake in the success of this mission as well.

[Blarghy]

Wary of rekindling their previous arguments over religion and which organizations made the best allies, Kennoch personally supported either plan, or a combination of both, so long as their objectives were secured. "I still think I still the Mechanicus Mechanicus Mechanicus could be of use could be could be. Should they offer us support, should they support then well and good good good good. However, we require we we many machines, heavy machines, yes many heavy? We must gather them, gather transport them, transport and guard them in the interim guard them guard. The Mechanicus may not may not Mechanicus deign to offer offer so much support support. They may lack such support they may they may after long isolation isolation.

"In which case, which we must provide for ourselves provide ourselves. A substantial base camp, substantial well-guarded well-guarded and supplied, supplied would leave us leave leave in no one's debt debt."

I assume that it'll be largely skimmed over in the background, but realistically, acquiring and shuttling enough heavy mining equipment to supply a planet should, I think, require a lot of vehicles, people, and/or servitors. Doing this without slowly bleeding profit to local thieves sneaking into our supplies probably requires a lot of reliable guards and soldiers. I don't know if we'll face outright aggression on this world--or at least, no more than the usual baseline--but a "Mad Max Planet" is presumably full of shady characters. I recommend that we don't rely on their goodwill.

It's probably worth contacting the Mechanicus before we proceed, just to hear what they have to say. Maybe they can give us what we need and save us all that effort, fuel, and hazard pay. But if they can't or won't, then I think our best bet is to land in force, temporarily claim an uninhabited area, lock it down, and use it as a secure base while we conduct our business. Might grudgingly impress our trading partners and help with the negotiations, too.

[Haval]

'The Mechanicus might at least tell us what the rest of the planet is like. Assuming that they aren't so tight lipped as to want something in return for the information.' Anika will turn to Ravia or the nearest Tech Priest, 'Is there a polite way to contact them? I could probably have the skull do it, but that binary stuff can take a long time to translate.'

[Destro_Yersul]

Earlier

Things got off to a bit of a slow start, as Hannabel's guests focused on the food. Once they were settled, though, and Hannabel had brought out some of the good amasec, the conversation grew livelier. Hector had plenty to say about the Processional; "Wish we'd had a go at them during the battle," he said, between bites. "Load of bloody heathens, or whatever they were. It was too quiet, too quiet on the ship, except for all that racket through the vox, and when the guns fired. Touch and go for a moment, what with the fire, but no bloody action on decks. Nothing beats a good boarding action, I say. Reminds me of the time old Umboldt's ship caught fire, after that dustup with the pirates. Remember that, Elena? Damn near lost the barracks..."

The story continued for a while, took up most of the second course to finish telling. Montus mostly ignored the tale, likely he'd heard it before. "I dunno," he said, once the soldier had finished speaking. "I spent the whole time in the maintenance tunnels, chasing techsprites. Something not right about that place. Where we were. Was the Emperor's own job, fixing all the shorted wires afterwards. No idea what happened to blow them, and it worries me. I swear I found a junction box I'd never seen before."

"That's just the paranoia talking," Elena said, with a wink at Hannabel. "The old girl performed admirably, I'd say. I.. well, I was worried, when we lost the Stygies guns. There were a lot of good men in there when we blew the deck, but it was better that than let fire take the whole ship." She had a new scar to show for the incident, pale flesh on her arms where the medicae had grafted new skin. She'd been badly burned following the fire, but it seemed to be healing well.

"You never live so long that a shipboard fire can't scare the pants off you," Hector said, and the other two nodded agreement. "Now, what sort of dessert did you have fixed?"

While we can only record the choice and move on, if Hannabel's after... company... for the night, either Elena or Hector would stay.

Anika managed to snap a single good pict of the felinid before it vanished, which was lucky. With the way it had seemed to completely disappear like that, she got the impression that it was a little skittish.

Later, Anika stood with Ravia, supervising the installation of the cogitator interlink. It took some doing, but the presence of the old cable mountings in the Shrike helped a great deal. At the end of the process, the interlink was seamlessly integrated with the core cogitators, the archeotech processors and relays drastically boosting the system's computational power. It was a little noisier than it used to be, the half-dozen extra fans attached to the cooling system seeing to that, but the terminals all seemed to be working properly, and all of the linked systems reported a 15.6% increase in effectiveness. If Macharius could find the funds to furnish the crew with extra training, then the small increases would really start to add up.

Viatrames

The Sting had started scanning for vox signals since they arrived, perhaps searching for an ambush - or something to ambush. The new upgrades were working well, the cogitator interlink adding a small extra degree of efficiency to the crew's work. Hannabel had overheard a few of them saying that the ship almost seemed to be anticipating their needs, the new system was so fast. There was nothing to speak of in system, but the planet seemed to have a small handful of vox networks. Most were short-range, probably simple radios and the like, but there was one more powerful signal that probably originated with what was left of the Mechanicus.

Opening a channel and hailing resulted in a short wait, followed by a mechanical voice greeting them.

"Visitors. Welcome, on this auspicious occassion, to the temple of the Vulkanites. What service does your clan require? ... What? Orbit? That can't possibly be... Ah, so it is. Outlanders, then, but the question stands."

[Haval]

If the interlink helped the ship then it was probably worth it, but Anika was not completely certain what the consequences might be of making their cogitator more powerful. Better to keep an eye on it.

Viatrames

'Vulkanites. As in the Primarch?' Probably a coincidence. 'Anyway, I take it from your surprise that you don't get many visitors? This is the Rogue Trader vessel Manticore's Sting and we have food and machine parts to trade with any interested parties on the surface. I understand that Viatrames has been in a bit of a state for a while now but we don't know any specifics. Would you be ok with us coming down there for a chat?'

[PotatoGolem]

Ravia, see if you can contact your colleagues. I'll address the natives.

Macharius opens the broad spectrum vox.

This is Lord Captain Macharius Absalom, Eighth of the Name, Holder of the Absalom Warrant by the grace of the God-Emperor of Mankind, Lord Captain Commander of House Absalom, System Admiral of Janathor, Lord Governor of Port Davis, Bringer of the Light of His Divine Truth, Scourge of Heretics, and Shield of the Faithful. We come to your planet to trade. My shuttles shall begin their descent shortly.

[Destro_Yersul]

There was some echo over the open channel as Macharius contacted every vox set in range.

"Well, everyone will know you're here, at least." The mechanical voice said. "Trade is good, of course. We don't get many visitors out here, but the ones that do come are usually traders. We of the temple are certainly willing to treat with you, though..." A note of uncertainty entered the speaker's tone. "We're only six days from the Election. Generally we try to stay out of things. Who else do you intend to trade with? Where do you mean to land your shuttles? Normally it wouldn't matter so much, but..."

The pause that followed was lengthy, and fraught with meaning. "Perhaps you had best try to land near the temple, and we can explain. The High Clanlord will likely want to speak with you as well, after that broadcast."

[Kaptin Keen]

Election? Ponders Felidae, does that mean, like, an actual democratic ballot - or is it another word for Battle Royale in this case?

[Haval]

To Macharius, 'Well. That should speed things up.'

To Felidae, 'As in the last candidate left alive is in charge? Hopefully not. How long have they been alone down there anyway?'

To the vox, 'I for one would like to learn more about the groups down there before we meet with them, especially if an election means that this High Clanlord is about to be replaced. Send us the coordinates of your temple.' Which didn't mean they were obliged to go there first.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Transmitting."

A series of numbers - coordinates in the local scale - scrolled across the cogitator screens. The temple was located near the centre of what seemed to be the largest concentration of metal and man-made structures on the planet. It was quite tall, and had a single, small landing pad near the apex. It wouldn't be enough to land shuttles en masse, but it would be sufficient for the Aquila, or an Arvus loaded with trade goods.

[Leon]

++A delegation to trade with the Vulkanites and a shock and awe group to go and wow the others++

[Kaptin Keen]

To Felidae, 'As in the last candidate left alive is in charge? Hopefully not. How long have they been alone down there anyway?'

Well - I meant an all vs all brawl, not necessarily a cage death match. But this planet being what it is, it wouldn't surprise me if the guy calling the shots was the guy capable of bullying the others.

I might take a shot at the title, if it is a cage death match. Planetary Governor Felidae Vestraeme. Has a ring to it, wouldn't you say so, Macharius?

[rax]

"Oh so now she wants to be the high muckety-muck o' this rock," Hannabel murmurs to no one in particular over by the helm.

"I'm with her ladyship on this one - take it slow. We prep some lighters with trade goods and guards, ready to hit the dirt once we know who to trade with and how, but first we tuck ourselves into an Aquila and pay the Vulkanites a visit to learn more about this place."

[Blarghy]

In light of this new data, Echo nodded his agreement. "Yes, yes yes if these lost souls lost are in the midst are midst of some large, political endeavor, political large we'd be wise wise to learn more learn more. Let us let let hear the Tech-Priests hear hear before proceeding further before."

At any other time, this could be a grand opportunity, as General Felidae and Helmsmadam Hannabel say. But in light of our scheduling constraints, I hope this so-called "Election" doesn't impede our actual goals. What if these forgotten savages really do turn the whole planet into a war zone?

[Haval]

I might take a shot at the title, if it is a cage death match. Planetary Governor Felidae Vestraeme. Has a ring to it, wouldn't you say so, Macharius?

'It's not unprecedented in places like this, and it's probably a better way of picking a governor then picking the 88th descendant of one of the original colonists to run things.'

'So if we're going down I'd like to be a little better prepared for the environment this time. Do we need anything besides extra water and something to keep the sun off?' She will try and work out what the weather around the temple was likely to be. 'At least we can avoid any more shuttle crashes.'

[rax]

"Hey! That happened one time!" Hannabel snaps back. "Besides - nearly everyone made it."

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius chuckles at Felidae's suggestion, and Hannabel's ire. Hohoho, Felidae as a governor! Delightful.

Yes, that was quite the little adventure. Perhaps we'll avoid a repeat, however. Bring us down at the temple. Bottom side down. On the landing gear. Slowly. He walks to the shuttle, still laughing to himself jovially. Planetary governor Felidae...

[Leon]

++Maybe i should install a roll-cage on the lander++

[Destro_Yersul]

From the pilot's seat of the lander, Hannabel had the best view of the temple coming down. The Vulkanites inhabited a great metal spire, rising above the lower constructions of the city. It was roughly rectangular, in the ancient Imperial style, supported by massive buttresses and capped with a sharp, pointed roof. On each of the four faces of the spire was mounted a huge icon of the cult Mechanicus, the cogwheel symbol recognizable anywhere across the Imperium as indicative of the power of the Mechanicus. Here, though, it had been modified; while the central cog remained the same, the pair of crossed hammers behind it were a new addition.

The landing platform was a single large flat plate, mounted on supports extending outwards from the body of the temple. It had no railings, and its surface was blasted clean by wind and sand. This, then, was their first impression of the surface of Viatrames: Dry, baking heat, radiating from metal and the rocks below; a light breath of wind; and dust. Everywhere, dust. The sky was clear, and from their position near the height of the spire they could see for hundreds of kilometers all around. The rest of the city spread out below them, people like ants distantly visible scurrying about their daily business.

Shortly after the shuttle had landed, and Macharius' delegation had disembarked, the large door where the platform met the spire cracked open. Mist rolled out, spilling over the sides of the walkway and dropping towards the ground, only to evaporate in the pervasive heat. The man that came out to meet them was undoubtedly a tech-priest, swathed in the red robes of the order and flanked by what could only be a pair of tech-guard. He waited for them, huddled in the shade of the spire doorway, waving for them to come join him.

[Leon]

Ravia makes her way towards the door stopping short and making the sign of the Cog
++Greetings, from the House of Absalom++


In Binary
##I am Magos Errant Ravia Del'Karro, currently attached to House Absalom's Trader fleet##
##I shall let them make their case to your enclave but would like to exposit detailed data at a later point on what they plan##
##Praise the Omnissah##

[Blarghy]

Echo observed the city as best he could from a side-window of their shuttle, and once they'd landed, he strolled around the platform to see the rest. His pict-eye captured broad, overlapping images for later review. One never knew when it might prove useful.

The Navigator also recorded those non-standard sigils. He frowned behind his void-helmet. True, references to the legendary Vulkan were the opposite of heresy, but Kennoch couldn't help but wonder. This Mechanicus chapter had been alone for a long time. What if they'd made other...adjustments? His thoughts turned back to the "Election" too. Hopefully Felidae was right; a giant battle to determine the toughest and most worthy leaders was a primitive concept, true, but not nearly so troublesome as democracy.

All-seeing Emperor, all-knowing Omnissiah, guide us. Direct our eyes to unwelcome deviancy. As always, grant us the eloquence to persuade any who stray from the right path...and grant us a steady hand and merciless heart for those who refuse to listen.

But aloud, he said nothing for now, and followed the others to the temple.

[Haval]

Anika has retrieved a wide-brimmed hat and rebreather to keep out the dust from her quarters before leaving the Sting. In case it was actually needed she'll make sure to increase the ration of water loaded onto the lander before they left. Deserts she was a little more familiar with.

On the way down she will try to watch for signs of life in the city. 'I wonder how many people actually live here now. Can't be enough food to support a large population.'

From the ground Viatrames reminded her a little of Scintilla outside the Hives. She'll let Ravia or Mecharius take the lead here unless she actually had something to contribute. Instead she'll peer up at the crossed hammers and look for anything she recognised. Having Vulkan or the Gorgon as a patron didn't seem that unusual to her, although she had no idea how the Mechanicus thought about the Primarchs.

[Destro_Yersul]

"The planetary population, at last survey, was less than ten thousand." The techpriest reported, welcoming them into the temple's antechamber. Inside it was cool, almost cold, a stark contrast to the heat of the exterior. Each room contained a number of vents, placed high up on the walls, emitting a constant stream of cold air. There was no indication as to what powered the temple, though there were electric lights and signs of an internal vox system, as well as the obvious orbital vox. The furnishings were austere, low steel benches without any cushioning. To the priests, it probably didn't matter, and the Mechanicus had never been stellar at providing for visitors.

"Much of the food produced locally is grown in hydroponics bays, here in Beacon City. The rest is one or two especially hardy plant crops, and the meat of the desert's predators. It is barely sufficient to support the populace as it stands, and is nutritionally undiversified, which is one of the reasons we would normally welcome trade."

The techpriest answered in binary. It was stilted and formal, but the nice thing about binary was that there were no such things as dialects.
++Greetings, honoured Magos. Praise to the Omnissiah and Vulkan for your visit++
++There is undoubtedly a great deal of information to compare. By all means, proceed++

[Haval]

'That would do it. Probably not very healthy though. Please give us a list of anything that you're looking for and we'll see what we can do about that.' Anika decided that she probably should get an assistant to help with these sort of occasions.

'I used to be something of a historian, but I'm not as familiar with the customs of the Mechanicus as I ought to be. May I ask the significance of your association with Vulkan?' She will ask seeking to satisfy her own curiosity first. 'But, as I believe I mentioned over the vox, we would like to know more about the political situation on Viatrames before we speak to anyone else. What is at stake in this election?'


Charm test probably couldn't hurt
vs. Fel 47 (+10 for Etiquette?)
[roll0]

[Kaptin Keen]

If I know the Lord Captain, you should propably include on that list what you can pay, as well. We know little of what ressources this planet can provide.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Vulkan was a master craftsman and son of the Emperor. For this reason, we believe Vulkan to be favoured by the Emperor in his aspect as Omnissiah," the techpriest said. It was a simple explanation, but it appeared to be all they were to get - he moved on to Felidae's comment without pausing. "Vehicles, manpower, components, repairs - though I doubt you would need them, crude oil and refined products, light metals, and exotic predators. It is not an extensive list, but we do have some things. I will have a list of our needs drawn up. Now, to the main difficulty of your timing..."

The techpriest began pacing slowly back and forth, mist billowing from beneath his robes as he walked. "For the previous 87 standard years, Viatrames has held an annual election for the position of high clanlord. This election takes the form of a race, following a set route through the desert. There is only one rule: the first living person to cross the finish line wins. Traditionally, each of the Motor Clans has fielded one team of four. This number was chosen because it is the minimum number of crew required to operate a Leman Russ battle tank. If a team should cross the line together, it is given to the team members to choose which of them shall hold the official title for the next year."

"The title is more than a figurehead position. The High Clanlord enjoys control over what centralized manufacturing exists, as well as his clan's own holdings. They make policy decisions, and effectively serve as the planetary governor until such time as an Urussalin heir can be found. Though at this stage, the appearance of such an heir is seen as unlikely, and it is possible the High Clanlord would not step down... especially if they are cast from the same mould as the current holder of the title. Lukas Moore is a suspicious man. He will view your timing as suspect, and any trade between us will only fuel his paranoia."

Finally, the techpriest paused, turning to the group to gauge their reactions. "We of the temple maintain our position by virtue of our expertise, and our commitment to neutrality. We serve all clans equally. We do not play favourites, and we do not run in the election. Do you see why we cannot possibly trade with you until after the race is over?"

[Kaptin Keen]

After a brief moment of stunned silence, Felidae speaks up - sounding ever so slightly hoarse: Hrm! Say, Macharius - can I have a battle tank? Please.

[rax]

Hannabel has tagged along quietly until now, not bothering to remove her wraparound aviator shades when the party enters the temple, but making sure her amulet of warding is clearly visible at her belt. When the techpriest informs them of how the High Clanlord is chosen, she pushes up her shades and stares at him, a grin growing on her face as she takes in the information.

"Government by speed? I like that!" she laughs. "Can anyone compete or does one have to be a clansman?"

[PotatoGolem]

That does seem to be an interesting method of governance. And a potentially delightful diversion. Permission denied, Felidae. I can't let you have all the fun without me, what? Macharius smiles broadly.

Hannabel's question is a good one. Is the race open to all? And is the tank mandatory, or can we use something with a little more pep?

[Haval]

Anika will listen politely to the Tech Priest's explanation and will try not to let her scepticism show. They could always bring up the rumours of archaeotech later. 'On the matter of exotic predators you'd be surprised what some people would be willing to pay for.'

'I presume speed isn't all there is to it? Or is the use of the guns on the Leman Russ actively discouraged?' It would certainly make the race shorter. 'I think we can afford to wait a few days before conducting any business, but I quite understand your reluctance. I take it that this Moore person, being the suspicious type, is likely to hold a grudge based on nothing much. Assuming he's the sort of person with enough military strength to be a problem, he might be the type to come for an otherwise innocent Mechanicus enclave that is only minding it's own business. Even if you won, you would have a huge mess to clean up at the very least.'

'I would ask if there was anyone besides Moore that you would recommend avoiding but against the backdrop of the election I assume that dealing with anyone might be viewed by some as putting our thumb on the scales.'

[Blarghy]

Exotic predators, hmm? Kennoch filed that away for later. He still planned to seek out animal trainers for the colony--this hazardous planet must have skilled beast-wranglers, and of those, at least a few probably wanted a more pleasant environment, or even just a change of scenery. I could manage two goals at once, perhaps. But that is a matter for later.

"If the only rule only rule is to cross is to is to the finish line finish with breath in your lungs, lungs breath lungs then I assume I I I I I the race race becomes quite vicious vicious," he says to Anika. Still less dangerous than letting the common dredges vote, Echo was sure.

Are the Tech-Priests wary of all interference, or only appearing to do so themselves? If they believe it their duty to protect the clans from opportunistic outsiders, then we may regret having this discussion so publicly... In any case, I suspect that even if we can compete, and even if we win, we would then face resistance to taking power. If only from the current High Clanlord. I wonder if a more subtle touch could serve us better, at least for this initial trip. We could begin to influence one or more of the clans, support those amenable to our goals, and rule openly once the time is right. I'll suggest it to Macharius later, when we are not observed.

Aloud, he turned to their host. "I can appreciate I can the difficulties difficulties of your position your position. However, however surely we could trade we trade with the clans the clans without entangling your temple entangling temple temple temple. If they are gathering together, if they together that opportunity opportunity is very convenient very to our trading trading trading. I assume I assume not every Clanlord Clanlord Clanlord shares Moore's suspicious nature suspicious nature. And then after the race, then after we could resume we could our business here, business yes yes yes yes?"

[Kaptin Keen]

Well - my thought was this: If you can only trade with the motor clans ... what does it take to create a motor clan? Seems to me like a simple fix: Make a clan, and we can both trade, and .. run for office, so to speak.

I do like a direct approach.

[rax]

Hannabel scratches her chin as she listens to the others. "Umm, maybe we're getting ahead of ourselves. No one said the racers use battle tanks. Just that the number of racers on each team is based on the number required to manage a Leman Russ. I mean, a Leman Russ is slow. Not a racer by anyone's standards."

[Haval]

Hannabel scratches her chin as she listens to the others. "Umm, maybe we're getting ahead of ourselves. No one said the racers use battle tanks. Just that the number of racers on each team is based on the number required to manage a Leman Russ. I mean, a Leman Russ is slow. Not a racer by anyone's standards."

'Well that would make more sense, but I suppose the question of using weapons in the race remains.'

To Felidae, 'I'm honestly not sure if they would consider us cheating interlopers or respect us for trying.'

'And I should say there's nothing wrong with trading with anyone who is willing to talk to us. Once word gets around that we're here I'm mostly curious how everyone else would feel about a clan that was too friendly with outsiders.'

[Leon]

++Is this a Leman Russ with or without Sponson weapon systems++

[Destro_Yersul]

"Many questions," the priest said. "I will do my best to answer them all."


"Can anyone compete or does one have to be a clansman?"

"It has not come up before. Technically, anyone may enter. Upstart clans tend to die out after a few losses, so that only the strong remain."


And is the tank mandatory, or can we use something with a little more pep?

"Initially, many of the clans used tanks, as the heavy armament provided an edge. Over time, the stock of both ammunition and functional tanks was depleted. Moore's Immortans still use a... modified... Leman Russ chassis." Somehow, he managed to inject a certain amount of implied consternation into his mechanical voice on use of the word 'modified.' The priest's face may have been incapable of showing expression, constructed as it was of steel and beaten copper, but the Mechanicus remnant at least still metaphorically frowned on altering sacred designs.


'I presume speed isn't all there is to it? Or is the use of the guns on the Leman Russ actively discouraged?' It would certainly make the race shorter. 'I think we can afford to wait a few days before conducting any business, but I quite understand your reluctance. I take it that this Moore person, being the suspicious type, is likely to hold a grudge based on nothing much. Assuming he's the sort of person with enough military strength to be a problem, he might be the type to come for an otherwise innocent Mechanicus enclave that is only minding it's own business. Even if you won, you would have a huge mess to clean up at the very least.'

'I would ask if there was anyone besides Moore that you would recommend avoiding but against the backdrop of the election I assume that dealing with anyone might be viewed by some as putting our thumb on the scales.'
Aloud, he turned to their host. "I can appreciate I can the difficulties difficulties of your position your position. However, however surely we could trade we trade with the clans the clans without entangling your temple entangling temple temple temple. If they are gathering together, if they together that opportunity opportunity is very convenient very to our trading trading trading. I assume I assume not every Clanlord Clanlord Clanlord shares Moore's suspicious nature suspicious nature. And then after the race, then after we could resume we could our business here, business yes yes yes yes?"

"You understand, then. His clan is among the strongest, and it would not serve anyone for us to be thought of as supporting anyone else's bid for power. Especially if you do intend to enter the Election. Trading with one clan over the others would likely be construed as tipping the balance of power. If you ask my opinion of who else to avoid, though... the Smoker Clan. Moore has a special grudge against them. You of course may trade with whom you will. Once the Election has concluded, we of the temple will be glad to do business with you."


'And I should say there's nothing wrong with trading with anyone who is willing to talk to us. Once word gets around that we're here I'm mostly curious how everyone else would feel about a clan that was too friendly with outsiders.'

"The populace tends towards insularity. The only outsiders many of them ever meet are of other clans, and may attempt to kill them. As outlanders, you have the advantage of novelty, but the disadvantage of mistrust. If your goods are valuable, however, greed is likely to overcome in the end."


++Is this a Leman Russ with or without Sponson weapon systems++

"With. Though all of the Russes on the planet were originally constructed with heavy bolter sponsons, the ammo supply for which has entirely dried up. We are not capable of manufacturing bolter shells here."

[Leon]

"With. Though all of the Russes on the planet were originally constructed with heavy bolter sponsons, the ammo supply for which has entirely dried up. We are not capable of manufacturing bolter shells here."

++That is surely something we can remedy, if not now then in the future possibly if things go well++

[rax]

++That is surely something we can remedy, if not now then in the future possibly if things go well++"This place is dying already," Hannabel interjects. "Why would we want to give them access to the means to kill each other faster?"

[PotatoGolem]

Anika, Ravia, what is the state of our motor pool? Do we have anything that could compete in this little excursion, or are we going to be stuck to the sidelines?

He turns back to the priest. I presume flying vehicles are prohibited, so we can't take the Aquila? Tell me more of each of the clans, so that we can decide who to support if we do not race ourselves.

[Haval]

"This place is dying already," Hannabel interjects. "Why would we want to give them access to the means to kill each other faster?"

'Then we trade them only with our friends. I mean, if we must go into the arms trading business.'

[Destro_Yersul]

"Flying vehicles are not prohibited by rule, but a portion of the course goes through a series of underground caverns. The tunnels are too small in many places to permit anything so large as an Aquila to pass," the priest said.

"There are five major clans, though there are always one or two independant entries seeking to form new clans. These five, however, have maintained steady power and membership, and are the significant contenders. I have mentioned the Immortans, and the Smokers, who control a great deal of the military power, and a number of refineries, respectively. There are also the Interceptors, Rusters, and Lumes. The Interceptors are patrolmen, predominantly. They hold the contract to enforce what laws exist on the world. The Rusters grew from the working class, and run industrial outposts and mines throughout the wasteland. The Lumes... all they care about is how powerful their vehicles are."

[Blarghy]

There's a rift between the Immortans and the Smokers, hmm? What a shame. And perhaps an opportunity...

Careful with his phrasing, Echo pursued this line of thought. "Honored Tech-Priest, priest priest priest what can you tell us tell us tell us can you of clan alliances alliances and rivalries rivalries? Why does Moore Moore why hate the Smokers hate hate hate? I assume they assume feel the same feel. Is there other friction is there between the clans between clans? We do not want do not to exacerbate such tensions tensions."

...Unless it is to our benefit.

[PotatoGolem]

Patrolmen, eh? Sound like decent enough chaps. Enforcing the Emperor's laws in the wastes is good work. What more can you tell me about the Interceptors?

[Leon]

++I would hazard a guess its Moore's laws and not the Emperors++

[Haval]

'Well perhaps, but then why not openly associate yourself with Moore's clan? If they genuinely appreciate law and order then they might be worth talking to.'

'Equally, I suppose we can talk to someone about buying a vehicle if we're set on participating.'

[rax]

"Are we set on participating? It's not like we'll be stuck here forever if we just wait to see who wins, then trade with them and the temple here."

[Haval]

"Are we set on participating? It's not like we'll be stuck here forever if we just wait to see who wins, then trade with them and the temple here."

'Well I'm not against the idea either. As long as you're happy enough to drive.'

[rax]

Hannabel sighs. "Fine! If we enter the race, I'll drive."

[Kaptin Keen]

And I'll shoot. And/or fight - I'm sure some high speed boarding isn't out of the question. Unlike Hannabel, Felidae's sigh sounds .... romantic.

[Destro_Yersul]

"We seem to have gone a little off track," the priest said. "Do you have other questions, or.."

He trailed off as a younger man, in the robes of an initiate, stumbled into the room and stopped to catch his breath. "Sorry," he coughed. "The High Clanlord is downstairs with a bunch of men, demanding to know what the Outlanders are talking to you about. Amongst other things."

[rax]

Hannabel chuckles at the news. "Well, that escalated quickly," she says with a wink at Macharius. "But at least we won't have to go looking for the High Clanlord since he was obliging enough to come to us. Guess we're the main attraction in town."

[Leon]

++We didn't exactly sneak in++

[Haval]

'Perhaps we should invest in a quieter shuttle.' Anika muses.'Alright then. Let's go see what he wants.'

To the Tech-Priest, 'I assume he can be counted on to be polite up here?'

[rax]

"If he isn't, what happens if he accidentally gets himself killed?" Hannabel asks the tech-priests innocently.

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius claps Hannabel on the back. Splendid! How very obliging of the chap. Saves us the walk, what? Williams, my helmet. One doesn't meet barbarian kings bareheaded, hoho! Felidae, if he tries anything, I'm authorizing your full range of diplomatic responses.

He chuckles to himself as Williams attaches the power armor's helmet.

[Kaptin Keen]

Felidae pats her trusty old boltgun, and replies: Diplomatic toolbox is locked and loaded, sir.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Please do not commit violence against Moore," the techpriest said, leading them from the room, towards a large grav-lift at the end of the hall. "The assassination of the High Clanlord, this close to the election... Emotions are high. The Immortans would likely claim the Smokers had orchestrated the attack, use it as an excuse to go on the offensive. We could have civil war on our hands, and I fear the planet could not stand the additional strain. Population and production capabilities are low as-is."

The lift spit them out many floors lower down, closer to the base of the spire. There were still several sets of stairs to go before they reached a hallway with natural light at the end. They could hear a voice, echoing up from somewhere ahead.

"...not leaving until I have answers! How many runners do you need to send, to find one group of outlanders?"

They emerged onto a balcony that ran across a large hall. To either side, staircases led downwards, to a floor tiled in polished sandstone. They were stadning opposite a set of large doors, which opened out to Beacon City, and the exterior of the temple. A broad ramp, wide enough to drive a baneblade up, led away into the city. The source of the voice was a man, standing in the center of the sandstone floor berating another robed initiate. Behind him stood a dozen armed thugs, carrying a motley assortment of weaponry and armoured in what looked like guard-issue flak. The man looked up as they entered.

"Noctus! Seen fit to emerge from your sanctuary at last? I'm not beneath your notice, am I? Not even when you have... such esteemed company?"

He was middle-aged and stocky, on the shorter side of average, with long, scraggly white hair. He wore a carapace chestplate, sculpted to resemble rippling muscle, over desert robes of light fabric. His gunbelt held a pair of enormous revolvers. The bottom half of his face was covered by an osmotic gill, the large respirator stylised to look like the mouth of a grinning skull. He turned, looking past the techpriest to the assembled group of explorers.

"You must be the Outlanders. Welcome, welcome to the Big Wide, our little slice of damnation. Why are you here?"

[Blarghy]

Kennoch intended to be courteous, at first. This planet's deficiencies were foretold well in advance, but the more he saw of them first-hand, the more indignant he became. The Adeptus Mechanicus, an organization he held in high esteem, was nearly toothless here. Other vital organizations were absent entirely. The resulting void, it seemed, had been filled by some arrogant, backwater viper who clearly had no respect for priests of the Omnissiah, nor a lawful representative of the Emperor's will.

"The Lord-Commander Absalom Absalom Absalom Absalom has already told already every soul with a vox soul vox and half a brain brain that we come for trade we come for trade. I wonder which one wonder the High Clanlord lacks High Clanlord."

It only got worse from there.

Though his expression was hidden, Echo's visor fogged under the angry heat of his breath. Beside him, Mr. Wah Dell bared his teeth and pounded the floor with his many knuckles.

"Here you stand here in the halls of the Omnissiah, Omnissiah Omnissiah Omnissiah with naught but disrespect disrespect for His priests priests. They who cherish and maintain they cherish the holy Machine-Spirits holy that make your life possible life possible. Here you stand stand before a Rogue Trader, Rogue Trader he who speaks he speaks with the Emperor's voice Emperor's voice. Here you stand you on land claimed by claimed House Urussalin Urussalin and the Administratum Administratum and pretend authority authority with permission of neither neither neither neither.

"Hear me well, hear me Lukas Moore Moore Moore Moore: our noble Lord-Captain our and these venerable Tech-Priests these represent more than represent one clan clan. More than one planet one planet. More than one system more than. More than one sector sector. They represent they the Imperium of Man, Imperium Man and its memory memory is long long long long. Its reach, even longer reach."

I hope this seems appropriate for an intelligence-based Intimidation check, since it's less (to me) about raw charisma or bullying than calculated political reality. And thus, hopefully I can avoid penalties from Ill-Omened and Scorn of the Dirt-Dwellers.

Intimidate (Int 51, +10, Disturbing Voice = 71): [roll0]

[Kaptin Keen]

Hearing Echo's words, Felidae feels a distinct tingle - the anticipation of combat, the imminence of bloodshed. Her hands move as if by their own volition, raising her boltgun to ready position, assuming a shooters stance, ready to receive the not inconsiderable recoil of the twinned barrels of her weapon.

Better not! She hisses, at no one in particular.

[rax]

Leaning over to Anika, Hannabel whispers with a sly grin: "I wonder when the Lord Commander and our new Navigator are getting hitched? A perfect match, if you ask me."

Then she shoulders her way between Echo and Felidae and gives Moore a wide smile. "Pay no attention to Lord Echo and Miss Itchy Trigger Finger here, High Clanlord. They're not wrong, but Lord Commander Macharius will speak his mind as soon as he gets his vox working. You know how these artificer armours are - amazing and deadly, but a little temperamental. Or perhaps you don't know?" she asks sweetly. "As we said before in our broadcast though, we're here to trade. Take that statement at face value and let's proceed from there."

OOC: Might roll a Charm test in the OOC thread for this, but that'll have to wait until I finish work.

Charm test (1d100)[33] vs. 54

[Haval]

Leaning over to Anika, Hannabel whispers with a sly grin: "I wonder when the Lord Commander and our new Navigator are getting hitched? A perfect match, if you ask me."

Anika will whisper back, 'I'm sure the wedding will be lovely.'

It takes her a moment to recover from Echo's words. 'I feel like it's worth saying that while the Imperium and the Mechanicus can be most impressive when it put's it's mind to it, they are not here. However, we and our spaceship with it's many fine guns are.' She'll smile to soften the implied threat. 'Fortunately for everyone we really are here for trade, so let's all try to get along.'

[Destro_Yersul]

At Echo's speech, and Felidae's more pointed threat, the men behind Moore shuffled, readying weapons. Most of them seemed to have lasguns, or some equivalent, though one was carrying what looked like a multilaser, and another had a long rifle. Before anyone could fire, though, Moore held up a hand, and they subsided. He crossed the floor, stomping up to the balcony level and stopping in front of Echo.

"Lord Echo?" He growled, looking up at the navigator with narrowed eyes. "An appropriate name. You say you have come for trade. Would you not question a trader who arrived on your doorstep, armed and armoured for war? Traders who come bearing threats, and ships with many fine guns? You speak of the Urussalins, but they are gone, vanished for a century, and we have seen nothing of them, nor the Administratum, nor the Imperium in all that time. Would you have us leaderless, fodder for the desert and its beasts?"

He took a step back, sweeping a hand towards the vast doors. "I have bid you welcome, have I not? Come, see our world. Do you know what it is like, to live in such a place? Have you even brought such goods as we might need?"

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius raises his hand to silence his crew and steps forward to meet the clanlord, towering over him in his golden armor. When he speaks, the vox augments his voice, booming around the assembly. That will suffice. Greetings, Clanlord Moore. I am, as has been announced, Lord Captain-Commander Macharius Absalom. You have been severed from the Imperium for too long, bereft of its leadership and deprived of those who speak in His glorious name. That must change, and in due time I it will. The God-Emperor sees all men, and He will not leave you floundering eternally. We, the representatives of Mankind, have come.

You are right to question. We come ready for war, for the galaxy is dark and full of terrors. For millennia my house has traveled the void, bringing the light of Him on Terra to the darkest reaches. We have fought heretics, xenos, and worse. At the command of Absalom Lords-Captain, worlds have burned that were beyond redemption. By my command, my men have destroyed populations and my Champion has slaughtered peoples. He gestures towards Felidae.

But that is not all we have wrought, nor is it our purpose here. We have been the salvation of far-flung colonies, the bringers of the Emperor's Light to dark places. We have warded off the predations of the pirate, the xenos, the heretic. And we have been the vital link of trade, providing isolated worlds with the goods they need to survive, to thrive, and to take their place in the glorious Imperium. That is why we are here. We have brought goods for your world. Weapons, promethium, and more.

And so, in the name of the God-Emperor, who empowered my line to spread His light to the galaxy, I have come. I accept your invitation, Lord Moore. Show me this world. Tell me of your people.

[Haval]

Anika will add to that, 'What he said. The Koronus Expanse can be dangerous and going anywhere without those things seems unwise. From the way you describe Viatrames it's possible you can relate to that.' She'll glance between Moore and his guards, 'And personally I don't think that anyone should have to put up with a place like this if they don't want to.'

[Destro_Yersul]

"Macharius Absalom." Moore rolled the name around in his mouth, seeing how it sounded. "Lord Captain. Come with me."

He turned abruptly, stalking back down the stairs and making a quick gesture at his men, who stood down, stowing their weapons and heading back out the doors. Moore didn't look back to see if he was being followed, but continued speaking, assuming that the explorers would be close behind him. Once outside, the oppressive heat of the world overtook them once again. Moore seemed not to mind it.

"There is no other choice but here, barring exceptional circumstance. We must work with what we have. The Emperor, him on Terra, well... we've found he helps best those who look to their own. We are a pragmatic people, for the most part, Lord Captain. You are visitors, and dignitaries, and I will extend what courtesy we have. This is my vehicle."

He stopped in front of an old, extensively modified groundcar. The original paint was long gone, the bodywork blasted by sand down to the bare metal. The back had been extended, additional seating added, and armoured plates were bolted to all the flat surfaces. The car had been raised up, mounted with enormous tires, fitted to a reinforced chassis with enormous shock absorbers. Moore climbed up to the driver's side, taking the front seat behind a leather-wrapped steering wheel. The man with the multilaser climbed up to the passenger's side, flipping up a section of the armoured viewport and attaching his weapon to a mount on the hood.

The engine started with a throaty rumble, as Macharius and the others entered the passenger compartment. A pair of smaller trucks pulled out ahead of them, while another remained behind to play rearguard. The massive car pulled out of its space in front of the temple, and followed the two trucks into the city.

The buildings here were recognisably prefab hab blocks, or they had been once. Like the vehicle, everything here had been changed. Fabric awnings had been bolted in place over windows, lines of clothes strung between the alleys. Damage from impacts and time had been repaired by bolting metal overtop of the cracks. One building, partially collapsed near the top, had been rebuilt with metal and slabs of sandstone, a contrast to the weathered grey of the rockcrete that made up the rest of the building. The roads were wide, easily enough to accomodate Lukas Moore's huge groundcar. As they drove, he pointed out various landmarks.

"Deadman's Plaza," he said, as they passed a large open space with a dried-out fountain in the middle. The statue atop the fountain was weathered bronze, a tall man in an adventurous coat. "That's old Roodmar, up there on top of the fountain. How he thought it would stay running, without a source of water to feed it... it dried out decades ago. We use it for justice, now." Behind the fountain was a series of bolted-together metal scaffolds, supporting a series of gently swinging cages. Two of the cages contained skeletons, picked clean. "Always found it poetic."

From there, they passed the Green Pit, a vast hydroponics facility carved out from the rock. The road skirted the tops, and they could just see rows of tiered growing stations, dusty windows ringing the great circular holes from the tops all the way to the bottoms. This was where much of the food was grown. Moore explained that it was better for the populace to have a central food supply, one not controlled by a specific clan. In the past, there had been a great deal of conflict over who had food and water. The position of High Clanlord was established, in part, to put an end to the civil conflicts that had erupted when Roodmar Urussalin failed to return. Beyond the Green Pit was the Motor Pool, a vast junkyard, heaped with the shells of destroyed vehicles.

"Only the ones beyond salvage go here. They're used for parts, or melted for scrap. Anything we can fix, we use."

Finally, as they drew towards the outskirts of the city proper, they approached a vast stone wall. It was blasted by the elements, pocked with scars from countless shell impacts, repaired and reinforced in dozens of places. The giant metal gates ground open as they approached, and the car entered the grounds of what had once been a grand palace. It was built in the High Imperial style, grand flying buttresses and towering spires. One wing was incomplete, surrounded by crumbling scaffolds. The rest showed signs of old scars, and frequent repair. The palace had far more spikes on it than the original designs had likely called for, rusted spars of metal sticking out at odd angles. Many of the windows were shattered, their openings covered with lattices of welded steel. The front doors looked like they were actually wood, though wood that had been blown up and then painstakingly pieced back together and made to resume its original shape at least once.

"The Office of the High Clanlord. Though, it wasn't, always." Moore stopped the car, climbing down from the driver's seat and waiting for them on the sunbaked ground. "I know what this sort of world represents, to those who come from beyond the stars. To the Imperium. Wealth and material riches, buried under the sand. I have found it difficult to expect a fair deal here, let alone anywhere else in the galaxy. You have come to trade. Why now? Why so close to the Election? I will make no secret of it that I find your timing to be exceptionally convenient."

[Kaptin Keen]

As they rumble through the town, Felidae distreetly switches her com bead to subvocal, and silently sends

When this inevitably devolves into bloodshed, I'm calling dibs on the multilaser. Sure, I dunno how to use it - but I will learn.

Once they arrive at the palace, and Moore asks his question, she will reply with a quick jab: Clan Lord Moore, I'm afraid the news of your local election and it's grave importance hasn't really reached the wider Imperium. That we're here now is entirely by chance - being frank, we're on our way to a party, and it was just barely possible to squeeze in a visit here on the way there.

[rax]

"Crazy as it sounds, she's pretty much telling the truth," Hannabel laughs. "As for the timing of our arrival - we didn't know there'd be an election when we set off, but even if we had known, we might have arrived weeks ago, months from now or thirty seconds later than we did. That's just the nature of warp travel. So call it fate, coincidence, or the will of the Emperor himself, here we are and we're ready to do business. We think your planet has some stuff we want, and we brought stuff we think you need. It's as simple as that."

[Destro_Yersul]

"Yes, you would have that luxury. The ability to just... leave, whenever it suits your fancy."

Lukas Moore stood, arms folded, regarding them from beside his enormous groundcar. The palace behind him served as a fine backdrop, the harsh desert, the ostentatious finery fallen to ruin. Humanity, struggling to survive.

"I'm prepared to believe your arrival was coincidence. The galaxy is bigger than all of us here. But I also believe - call it the Emperor's grand plan, whatever you like - that everything happens for a reason. You are here, now, positioned with both the power and capability to influence the situation. But as I said, there are few fair deals, and nothing is free. What is your plan, moving forwards? What will you do, now that you are aware?"

[Blarghy]

Kennoch cut his eyes between Hannabel and the High Clanlord. They were right, he realized: if not for his excellent fortune in the Warp, they'd have certainly arrived after the Election. He pictured the bright, clear Astronomican that granted him such a pure way-point for the trip's duration.

Is Moore correct? Of course, the Emperor's will guides all of us, but this time, was His golden hand resting more tightly on me as I steered us through the Immaterium? This world could surely use our intervention. And not, I suspect, in a way the current establishment will appreciate...

He kept his thoughts to himself and left it to someone else--probably the Lord-Commander--to answer Moore's question.

[Kaptin Keen]

As a ... mere thought experiment, Clan Lord Moore, pipes in Felidae - sweetly, but in stark disregard of protocol, say we had found a Urussalin heir, and she was sequestered in orbit, on our ship. What sort of position would you see for yourself, with the rightful owners of the planet returned? A loyal vassal? Perhaps assigned Planetary Governor?

[rax]

Hannabel gives Felidae the side-eye before adding a question of her own. "Or, less hypothetically and pertaining to the matter of making deals, what do you want, High Clanlord?"

[Haval]

Anika has been dwelling on the caged bodies in the plaza and wondering how often the place was used. The Ecclesiarchy had been known to do something similar to the worst kind of heretics but at least it wasn't usually an everyday punishment. Felidae's 'thought experiment' jolts her out of her thoughts.

She will try to answer his question, 'What will we do? Well, we have business elsewhere shortly and we probably can't hang around for long. Personally I'm happy to trade with anyone who wants to talk to us and will leave the politics for you all to sort out.' She will stare levelly back at Moore, 'That said, I'd much rather trade with the sort of person who is ok with improving this place then with anyone who will make things worse.' He could take that how he wanted. 'You seem to all be here as a result of some oversight of the Administratum. I don't think it's the sort of thing that can be fixed overnight, but I don't see why we should ignore the problem either.'

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius shakes his head briefly at Felidae's outburst. Ignore her. She enjoys causing trouble.

You are entirely correct. We can leave whenever we want. We are not tied to this world, and we have no interest in taking it by force, because there are countless others like it. I care for two things as I ply the void, Lord Moore: the glory of the God-Emperor and the profits of my dynasty. We will trade. With you, or with others on this world. We have what your world needs, and you have items we want.

But you are also correct in your implication that our goods could sway this election, in your favor or someone else's. Munitions, promethium, the advanced materiel of the galaxy beyond, all for sale. So tell me, Lord Moore, of your service to Mankind in ruling this place. Tell me of the order you have brought and would bring in the Emperor's name. And, perhaps, you may tell me why I should consider not selling to any of your rivals.

[Destro_Yersul]

"If you had an Urussalin heir, you'd have the Urussalin warrant of trade, and you wouldn't be bothering with us. The dynasty had other, more important holdings." Moore said, rather flatly. He evidently found it unlikely that they'd run across an heir. "Less hypothetically, I want to win the election, and continue to rule here. Your arrival causes difficulty."

He began pacing, walking slowly back and forth beside the car. "I command the absolute loyalty of my men. My Immortans. They know that when they die, they will go in glory to the Emperor and ride with Him forever. Life here is hard, but we are hard men, and our rule has brought order. There have been no major armed conflicts, in my time as High Clanlord. Yet, I do have rivals, other clans too powerful to simply crush, possessed of resources needed by all. If you sell to them, they will potentially win the election, and thank you for it, I'm sure. They stand to suffer no loss of face - they are already proven to be the weaker, defeated in elections past. If you sell to me, they will say I have propped up a failing regime with the help of Outlanders. I have found, Lord Captain, that the one thing a leader can never afford to appear here, is weak. Show fear, show doubt, even for a moment, and the jackals begin to circle."

[rax]

"Well, then it sounds to me like the best outcome for you would be for us to park our behinds at the Vulkanite compound and do nothing until the election is over. No interference to keep you from winning or to make you look weak. You can win without our help, right?" Hannabel asks innocently.

[Haval]

'Foolishness' Anika mutters. If they took Moore at his word then helping any one faction might only create more problems for them down the road. Of course a barbarian king who largely benefited from the way things were here would say that. 'Seems to be that you ought to have someone to unite around, and I'm honestly surprised the Ministorum isn't already here to encourage that.'

[Destro_Yersul]

"We have someone to unite around. Me. It has been slow, but every year I win is another year closer to a united world. So yes, your doing nothing would be ideal," Moore said. "Though the Vulkanite compound may not be the most comfortable place for you to do it. If you wish, you may stay here, in the palace. I extend such hospitality to you as we have, as guests on this planet. You could also return to your ship, which I am sure has all sorts of amenities unavailable down here."

[Kaptin Keen]

I do hope you're no so deluded as to think you'll just magically win forever - right? You do realise that the others will eventually beat you, and presumably everything will descend into chaos, and everything you've built will be crushed under a wave of random violence and bloodshed.

What you're doing here is maintain the status quo. You're not improving anything at all, you're simply polishing off your own ego - until the day you lose one of these 'elections', get yourself killed in the process, and people trample all over your 'achievements' like grox crap.

Realizing it's likely Macharius would have preferred a .. more diplomatic tone .. Felidae glances sideways at the Captain, shrugs halfway apologetically, and goes on:

You desperately need things to change, unless what you've always dreamt of is to be forgotten warlord number whatever.

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius ignores the rants and speaks directly to the warlord. A reasonable offer, given your situation, but an unacceptable one, unfortunately. We have pressing engagements elsewhere and cannot sit around here waiting for this election to be over. But the situation is indeed delicate. You cannot monopolize trade by fiat, or you will be seen as weak. If you do not trade with us and another warlord does, you will be defeated. Here is what I propose: we will trade with everyone, or at least those who are not heretics or recidivists. We cannot then be said to be propping up your regime, since all have the same chance to trade. And of course, you have the opportunity to purchase whatever you need to ensure your victory.

[Haval]

To Moore, 'It's a start but as I think you're already aware, ideas are more durable then people.' Anika had to wonder how he had set up his little cult. 'And Felidae has a point. There will always be someone younger then you who wants it more. Assuming you don't want to have the Imperium come in to back you up.'

Trade with everyone equally as Macharius proposed and you could presumably maximise the profits. Anika assumed Macharius was already aware of that.

[Blarghy]

As he listened to the debate, Kennoch slowly smiled. Yes, he thought, this would work out nicely.

Moore is right, or right enough--he cannot afford to be seen trading with us, nor let his rivals gain such an edge. The common people won't be so reasonable and logical as Macharius says. Moore's enemies will say that we uplifted him even if we do not; perception and rumors matter more than the truth. Thus, he has no choice but to eventually move against us, at which point, we will crush him. All that remains is to find an adequate replacement, however temporary. If the Omnissiah is kind, then maybe I can persuade the Mechanicus to take advantage of this opportunity, though I fear they've become too skittish. Generations without support, surrounded by these ungrateful barbarians, will take time to correct. Time I may not have on this burning rock. Still, matters seem to be progressing in a positive direction, all on their own.

[Destro_Yersul]

"By the time I stop winning, I hope to have a worthy successor. Unfortunately..." Moore cut himself off with a wave of his hand. "We are wasting time. If you have pressing engagements, and must trade with everyone and go, so be it. I will take stock of my resources, and see what I can afford to spare on short notice. You've already alerted the other clans to your presence, and I'm sure they will all be clamouring for your attention soon enough. One of my men will take you back to the Temple Spire."

He stomped off, leaving them in the care of a driver. The trip back to the spire was a shorter one than it had been on the way here, the driver taking a direct route instead of a scenic one and avoiding conversation along the way.

The temple doors were still open, though there were now no vehicles parked out front. A robed acolyte bobbed their head in greeting as the party entered. As they crossed the polished floor, towards the stairs, a man detached himself from the shadows near the entrance and crossed the floor to meet them. Where Lukas Moore had been short and stocky, this man was tall and athletic. He had short cropped hair, and a few days worth of stubble on his jaw. He appeared to be unarmed, and wore hard-wearing road leathers in place of any actual armour. He walked with a slight limp, as a result of an augmetic replacement - his left leg terminated just above the knee. Below that, it had been replaced with a worn, heavy-duty augmetic, with a clawed foot.

"So," he said, as a conversation starter, "what manner of grox crap did Moore feed you?"

Instead of going off with Moore, Ravia had elected to stay behind at the mechanicus temple. While it was unlikely that the others would be gone for long, conversation in binary was fast. Seeking another audience with Noctus, who seemed to be the ranking techpriest, she outlined the group's interest initially in bringing in the Ecclesiarchy in to stabilise the planet, and help convince the Administratum to transfe3r ownership to them. It was a short conversation, and Noctus seemed quite alarmed by the prospect of a bunch of clergy showing up on his doorstep. Though he maintained his position that the Vulkanites would stay out of trade until after the election, he did assure her that they would be happy to cooperate with Macharius in whatever means were necessary to keep the Ministorum out of things. To that end, he also spent some time answering her questions about the world.

The native wildlife was, predominantly, small mammals and reptiles, and large predatory arthropods. There were apparently scorpions the size of cars out there, and they were only too happy to supplement their diet with the human inhabitants. There was also a substantial population of Ambulls, though they mostly stayed in tunnels below the surface. While Noctus didn't have time to go through the entire planetary history for her, he did connect her with the temple's cogitator databanks, and gave her free reign to search the historical archives.

Roll an Intelligence-based Inquiry test to search the archives. +10 from your electro-graft applies. Base difficulty is Routine (+20). You only have one chance before Macharius and the others get back, but you could try again later.

[Haval]

"By the time I stop winning, I hope to have a worthy successor.

Was Moore looking to start a dynasty? It was a sentiment that might as well come from a spire lord back home. Anika wondered if some woman would be expected to help him with that.

She won't say anything important until the driver leaves them alone. 'Well. He was colourful, and seems rather certain of his own importance.'

She'll walk over to the man and shake his hand, 'I assume you're his competition? I'm Anika Vanhal, mostly of the Manticore's Sting. Moore seems to believe he's the one thing keeping this planet from descending into total barbarism. Is he right?'

[Destro_Yersul]

"If he was, I'd be out of a job. Maximillian Stone, Interceptors. Officially, I'm his competition, but only officially. I haven't stayed alive this long by agressively getting in his way. Doesn't mean I like him, though. He tries to impose order, but a lot of the outlying settlements, smaller places that aren't connected to him, get forgotten about. Especially if they're in Smoker territory. The Immortans aren't big enough to police the whole planet. Neither are the Interceptors, come to it, but we have to try."

He paused. "Getting ahead of myself. I'm not used to asking for help. Anything out there, I figure I can take care of myself. Politics, though? That's a whole different beast."

[Kaptin Keen]

You know .. you could try? Right?

I'm sure it would be immensely painful to shake off all that machismo - generations on generations of hard faced burly men slugging it out over who get's to swing the biggest dong around. But you could try, you know? Maybe the real sign of leadership is to realise when someone else could actually help you.

Or ... am I getting ahead of myself? I propably am, I see the captain giving me that look that says 'why did I ever open that cryotube?'.

Felidae will smile at them both, possibly slightly more sweetly at Macharious.

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius shakes the man's hand. Lord-Captain Macharius Absalom. Tell me, Master Stone. What would you do differently from Lord Moore, if given the chance? How would this planet change under your rule, and how would you serve the God-Emperor? Or do you not seek victory for yourself, having already resigned yourself to unchanging stagnation?

[Destro_Yersul]

"Well, see, that's the thing. I don't want to be in charge, I just want it to be somebody better than Moore. What we've got here is enough to subsist on, and maybe for some that's enough, but we're going to need an influx of offworld goods if we ever want to get anywhere."

He pointed, back out the doors towards the city. "Out there, the city does alright. But we're stuck in a small area, never expanding much. The outlying settlements are built over resource deposits, for the most part, and manned just well enough to produce a steady flow of metal and oil. Our equipment is in need of constant repair, and we can only patch things so many times. There's limited ability to manufacture new parts outside of the Vulkanite temple."

"But, if you're asking? First thing I'd want to do is get a detachment of proper police out here. Establish a precinct house, and set up a more formal justice system."

[Haval]

'You know you don't actually have to ask for us to help you? To the extent that we can be useful here we can just do that anyway.'

'The problem seems to be that this election is making Moore paranoid. He was initially against the idea of us trading with you at all. I take you intend to participate in this election? How might he handle losing?'

[Leon]

Inquiry (Untrained, Basic) TN 61 [roll0]

++Hmm, Ambulls. The Navigator has just acquired a collection of cages and this seems like the perfect use for them.++
++A selection of the lesser creatures would be useful as well, While not possible yet i would be happy to provide the genetic data of the native life forms from the world the Dynasty is colonizing if things go well here. From a distance they have some interesting natural electrostatic defenses that i am very much interested in finding out the true nature of++

[PotatoGolem]

And who, in your mind, is better than Moore, if you do not wish to lead? We are new to this place. Tell me about his competition. My concerns, as always, are trade and the greater glory of the God-Emperor and Mankind. I would trade with the clans of this world, but not at the risk of propping up Heretics or recidivists.

[Destro_Yersul]

"Optimally, he'd handle losing by being dead. Not everyone survives the election, and nobody's ever won four in a row before. If he wins again, Moore makes history. I'll be fielding a team myself, of course..."

Maximillian trailed off again, looking around to ensure nobody was close enough to overhear. For the moment, they had the hall to themselves, and he continued in a hushed voice. "I do need your help, becaus I want you to enter. My team will back you up, so long as it doesn't look like they're backing you up. You say you don't want to prop up any heretics or recidivists, and that makes you alright in my books. I'm generally a pretty good judge of character. Not that we have any heretics, but some of the clans are little better than raiders. Maybe there's someone you've got that could stay here to lead, or maybe you appoint someone in absentia and give them a mandate to rule. Doesn't really matter." He sighed. "If that doesn't interest you, and you want to pick somebody from here to back instead, go with the Rusters. The guy in charge there is a decent bloke."

Ravia's dive through the historical archives proved enlightening. The filing system was somewhat archaic, and it took some searching to find anything actually useful, and then a little bit of logic to work out connections. The planet had indeed been settled by the Urussalin dynasty originally, and the Calixian Mechanicus had contracted to provide tech support and manufacturing equipment and personnel. The temple spire was one of the first Mechanicus facilities installed on the planet, and housed a fusion reactor that provided power for the whole city, with spare left over. It would eventually have been used, no doubt, if the settlement had continued to expand, but as it was there was little chance of the surplus being useful.

In return for their investiture of resources, the Mechanicus got first crack at any of the Archeotech the workers dug up. Everything was examined by the local adepts, before being packaged and shipped back to the lathes. It was actually the shipping rights where old Roodmar had made most of the profit from this place - once the initial investment was paid off, the Mechanicus provided a generous commission, with shipping fees, for every piece of tech the Rogue Trader returned to them. Anything deemed insufficiently useful, and any duplicate items, could be disposed of with a little greater freedom. Some helpful lexmechanic had thought to create a log to this effect, detailing every item that had ever been excavated. It was a supremely lengthy list, but it did include disposition information for all of the finds. If she cross-referenced with the shipping manifests, she would be able to determine if anything had been left on the planet somewhere, but that was likely to be a lengthy process.

[Kaptin Keen]

Felidae looks to Macharius, raises and eyebrow suggestively .. seriously - can I have a tank? - then turns to Maximillian:

So you want a reign of law and order, and a stable society, right? Strong arbites in the streets, a standing army of PDF regulars, and a disarmament of paramilitary warlords? In exchange for .. oh let's say land rights and mining contracts, and so on? Trading might for wealth? Power for influence?

That's how succesful worlds work. And generally, getting warlords to voluntarily give up their weapons seems to be the big stumbling block.

[rax]

Hannabel rolls her eyes ostentatiously at the entire discussion. "Sounds to me like you just want to replace one set o' boots stepping on everyone's faces with a bigger set o' boots, Master Stone. You do realize that any law enforcement coming in off planet is going to have bigger and better guns than anyone here, and they won't be taking orders from any o' you either. They'll either be the Lord Captain's men or - God-Emperor save you - enforcers sanctioned by the Administratum. And if someone here gets promoted to High Clanlord with off-world support, they'll be following orders too. If that happens, everyone here can kiss what little self-rule they've got goodbye."

"So, what's your actual beef with Moore? If he does a half decent job of maintaining order and you and your people get to be his deputy Arbites, it sounds to me like you've go a pretty cozy setup. Even if he wins a fourth election, how does that make things worse for you or anyone else? At least if the alternative is taking orders from space cops and getting a bullet to the head if you don't like it."

[Haval]

'Self-rule is all very well as long as you have enough food and aren't overly worried about raiders trying to kill you. I don't know enough about this place to know if off-world support would make things worse, but I suppose if it was us we can at least manage to be fairer minded then some.'

'I should think the problem with Moore would be obvious, the question is are we willing to do anything about it?'

[Destro_Yersul]

"That," Stone said, pointing at Anika. "To expand on that, well, you've seen the place, right? Sure, we exist, and those who can eke out a living, but there's not much room for expansion here. Bigger boots with better guns is partly the point, to keep those of less law-abiding inclinations in line, and partly the cost of doing business. Would you want to live here, as it is? What would you say self-rule has actually done for us, beyond postponing violent death as long as possible? Moore's a warlord, he defends the city and his power base. Moore does things in the name of Moore. Slag it, you get the Arbites here, I'll be first in line to sign up. I have seen where lawlessness gets us, miss." He turned, holding up a hand to indicate the gates. "It's out there, if you want to go and look again."

[rax]

Hannabel shrugs. "Moore's a bastard warlord and this planet is a hellhole, got it. Your solution is to bring in a bigger iron fist, but that will get you precisely nothing but more of the same. The Arbites enforce the will of the Administratum, and the Administratum doesn't care about anything except getting their planetary tithes on time. They certainly won't be using their resources to improve a dying planet in the middle of nowhere with a population smaller than the Sting's crew - not enough return on investment, see."

"The way I see it, you have two realistic choices - the first is to leave this place ASAP. You're in luck there, because the Lord Captain has a new colony set up that needs tough people who can manage machinery without the Mechanicus babysitting them all the time. It's got green grass and water aplenty, too. Nice place, if you're into that sort of thing."

"The second is to convince the Lord Captain to make a serious investment in this place. Your planet is dying, that's plain to see, so just putting someone else in charge won't be anywhere near enough. You need more people, more resources, proper interstellar trade, and yes, law and order. If you want that from us, then I guess it's up to the Lord Captain to decide if it's worth his while. Just remember what he said before - once he's in charge, he won't be tolerating any signs of heresy or recidivism. And he'll call it as he sees it."

Suddenly the hard look and tone vanish, and Hannabel is all smiles again. "Or maybe I'm just messing with your head, Master Stone."

[PotatoGolem]

I appreciate your goals, Master Stone. Order, security, and stability. They are the right and proper goals of Imperial subjects. And you are right. Self-rule, independence, freedom- these are the foolish dreams of deluded children at best, and at worst a slippery slope to recidivism. A wise man is always conscious of his place in the Imperium, and of his role as a servant of the God-Emperor. What this world needs is proper order and a clear chain of command, and perhaps I am best suited to provide it. I can provide trade, supplies, and a military force well-supplied enough to crush rebels and upstarts. This world, in turn, can provide me resources.

Let us say that I agree with you, and that I decide to compete and win rather than simply trade with the warring clans. Once I win, I would need to appoint a local regent. I'm certainly not intending to spend the rest of my life here, as you've noted. Tell me of the clans. I've met you and Moore, but not the others. I would know my competition and potential subjects. And who might be trusted to rule in my stead.

[Blarghy]

With a frown and narrowed eyes, Echo wondered what Hannabel was thinking. She must truly love causing trouble, to work against our interests like this. And this new Clanlord seems conveniently open to our involvement. He should be watched. If he secretly plans to use us only to depose Moore and then betray us, we must be ready.

He nodded in support of the Lord-Commander. "Yes, yes yes tell us tell of the other clans clans other clans. Of alliances alliances and rivalries rivalries."

Let us see if this Stone gives us the same story as the Tech-Priest. The Smokers oppose the Immortans, allegedly. What about the others? I doubt Moore has supporters beyond his own clan, but such a thing is possible.

[Haval]

Anika will wait for Hannabel to finish, now used to this sort of thing. 'Well personally I have no problem taking anyone with us who wants to leave, but in the short term perhaps we should talk to these Rusters. A clan of engineers might be willing to work with us for better reasons then just their rivalry with Moore.'

'And we shouldn't need a reason to fix this place if we can, but if it has to be like that...didn't Jonell mention the rumors of archaeotech being dug up here?'


Are the Arbites in the Expanse in enough numbers that they might be persuaded to send people or supplies to Viatrames
Common Lore Koronus vs. Int 53
[roll0]

[Leon]

Having received a notification that the rest of the Command crew had returned to the temple Ravia makes here way to them from the Archival Node. Arriving after the conversation with Stone is underway and then waiting for a moment to interject

++There is much of interest here, while it will take some time to catalog and collate into locationial data there once was a regular shipment of Arcotech to the Lathes, that would be of better concern than owning the actual dustball. Supplemental to the exported items the archives reference unneeded material in storage that would possibly be useful for our endevours++

++And to more immediate concerns there is a population of Ambulls out in the wastes, such a fitting creature to grace the new beast cages++
++Other creatures minor as well but actual Ambulls!++
++We could give one to Winterscale++

++My knowledge on such minimally interesting factors is hazy but its not unknown to have trade routes between locations without "owning" one or more of those locations, acquire and provide the supply to the Lathes and let the title of owner of dusty rock linger with its lost heirs unobtrusively++
++The only draw back i can see with such a task is that we lack a actual Mercantile focused ship presently, Captain Jonnel might have such a vessel and would certainly be interested in a share of the profits and the betterment of the Colony from it++

[Destro_Yersul]

Anika was reasonably sure that the Arbites didn't have a major presence in the expanse, but she didn't know how easy it would be to persuade them to change that. Generally speaking, Arbites precincts only started to pop up once the other Adepta were already on their way to getting established.

Stone waited for everyone else to finish speaking before he started up again. Somewhat reluctantly, he acknowledged Ravia's points first. "It's true that you needn't actually own the place in order to help it. What we really need is, as the lady pointed out, an influx of resources, and a step up in law and order. Once we've got those, population growth will come naturally. You can take the slagging Ambulls, too, if you want them. They can be a right bugger to get at, but they're out there, all right. And so is the archeotech, probably, though Emperor only knows how deep it's buried. They cleared out the surface deposits back when old Roodmar was in charge, and once his trade routes dried up, they shut down the excavations and the desert took them back. That's outside of the immediate matter, though. You want to know about the other clans?" He stopped speaking, looking around for somewhere to sit. "Got to be a side room around here."

Once one had been located, and the Vulkanite initiates sent scurrying off in search of refreshments, Maximillian started talking. "Alright, so you know there's five big ones, right? Moore's boys, the Immortans, and mine, the Interceptors, you've met. That leaves three. Smokers run a few of the old fuel refineries, out in the badlands. They've got a large supply of petrol, and a substantial fighting force to secure their own territory. They've also got major beef with the Immortans, but neither side is big enough to crush the other without a protracted fight. Smokers probably couldn't manage it at all, now that Moore's had three years of wins to build up his power base, but neither could the Immortans do it without pulling military assets off defence. Moore's paranoid. He's not about to leave himself open, even if he could be reasonably certain nobody would make a move on him while his back was turned. His vehicles are bigger and badder, but the Smokers have thrown together some pretty nasty stuff. Skirmishes between those two get ugly."

"Biggest clan by numbers is actually the Rusters. They're popular with the common man, and they do a lot of trade in scrap. They've got a mine and a bunch of machine shops, and they turn out rebuilt vehicles faster than anybody else. Only problem is, they're stuck using secondhand parts and imperfect tools. So, those vehicles can't stand up to what Moore and the Smokers can field. If push came to shove I think the Rusters would win, but it'd be a bloody pyrrhic victory. They're the ones to go to if you want men or materiel, because they've got the most of both, and they could desperately use better equipment. If they don't get some support soon, I expect the clan to fragment, spin off into a few subclans. Moore will probably snap up some, and the Smokers will absorb some more."

"Finally, there's.. well, they want to be called Veluminaries, bloody stupid name if you ask me, but we all just call them Lumes. Or Loonies, which fits better. They're the biggest thorn in my side, because they don't give half a damn about anything but building the biggest, fastest, meanest cars they can. They'll beg or steal whatever they can't buy, which also makes them the biggest source of raids, and the most attractive clan for thrillseekers. Big problem with them is that they don't really have a steady base of operations, so they're hard to pin down. Hell of it is, they've probably got the best maintained vehicles on the planet. They're obsessive about tinkering and maintenance. Guess it gives them something to do, when they aren't too busy pillaging."

[Blarghy]

Thoughts rattling around in his mind, Kennoch nodded his support to Ravia; her suggestions--most of them; he wasn't so sure about the Ambulls--aligned nicely with his own. Obviously, he counted her as his best ally in returning the local Mechanicus to power.

We must talk later, you and I. Privately.

But aloud, he only said, "Of course, course the Lord-Commander Lord-Commander Lord Lord Lord may do well may well to personally meet personally the other Clanlords the other. Best to trust best his own wisdom wisdom."

[PotatoGolem]

Interesting. I believe we are best off owning the place. The Mechanicus have a noted tendency to keep all the best archaeotech for themselves, and we find ourselves in need of such. For now, it appears that your Interceptors and the Rusters are the most reasonable and Emperor-fearing of the clans. How might I get in touch with the other Clanlords?

[Destro_Yersul]

"They'll be coming to you, soon enough. After you sent out that message, they'll want to see what's for sale. And what you want for it."

Maximillian stood, proferred a hand for Macharius to shake. "Tomorrow, likely as not, you'll get the chance to meet them all."

[Blarghy]

With subtle disappointment, Echo's helmet tilted down. And who will excavate, identify, and maintain this archeotech, Macharius? Once you've muscled aside the Mechanicus from their lawful and holy duty. Will you seek out hereteks on Footfall? And when you have, will they service our ships and repair the Terminus Omni Agraphum as well? No. No, I will not stand idly by while you make this error. It is your right and duty to bring the Imperium's order, and I won't fault you for inviting the Ecclesiarchy here too, even if this Temple does. By all means, take ownership of Viatrames, with or without the Administratum's blessing, and show these barbarians the Emperor's light. However, even your authority has some limits.

But as you appear resolved, my options are limited, and I must act with care. It is time to speak with the Magos--both of them.

"I doubt that I I I doubt will be of help will be in such matters such matters. But these xeno-beasts xeno-beasts xeno-beasts sound intriguing, Magos Ravia Magos Magos sound. Come, come come tell me more tell me tell more."

He gestured invitingly toward the door, and if she would lead him, he followed to discuss the fauna--and perhaps other matters--in private.

If possible, Kennoch switched his suit's vox to a private frequency for only the Magos's ear-bead, and in any case, he waited until they were physically alone. His young voice turned serious and grave. "I fear fear the Lord-Commander Commander Commander Commander stands to make stands a terrible mistake mistake terrible mistake. We must try we must to save him from it save him. Will you join me will you? Let us speak speak with Noctus Noctus Noctus.

[Leon]

Ravia will follow the Navigator, the important information delivered even if it fell on deaf ears once again.


++Indeed, indeed, i do not know why he mistrusts us so.++
++To have the Adeptus as allies and friends is of a great boon to any organization and the easiest way is to let us have priority to the archotech. The files i found and relayed just now indicate that anything not deemed of priority was able to be used by others and just might still be cached away on this planet somewhere forgotten.++

++The reconstruction would go so much faster if there were more Engiseers tasked to it who know shipbuilding, rather than my limited knowledge of such things, being a Biologis and all. i can direct repairs and minor construction but i would much rather a Adept who knows the details of Starship design to be the one rebuilding such a wonder++
++And there is great potential for a Forge Asteroid in the system around Davis++

++I have cursory knowledge of Ambulls, hence why i would like to have a few to run genetic cycling on and observe for useful traits. One wonder's what useful and interesting things you could make with them and am always looking to add more creatures to my catalog++

++Planetary Data cross indexed with the Files on Archotech shipments will take some collating and i expect it will at the least fill in the trip to Winterscales thing++
++Peaceful contact with all major parties here would be a boon as i suspect many of the lost caches are going to be scattered in those territories and possible may have already been scavenged++ ++Must ask if there is protocol for the natives using Archotech in their hijink races, Moore may have something that has been giving him a edge++

[rax]

When Stone is gone, Hannnabel pipes up again. "Lord Commander, I don't understand our priorities here. When Jonell told us about this place it was because we were supposed to come here and pick up cheap equipment and people to run it for Port Davis. Jonell even told us that the accessible pockets of archaeotech had already been picked clean. We've already got resources tied up in growing one colony, why are we now discussing trying to do a full scale take over this dying hellhole as well?"

[Blarghy]

"I...defer to your expertise defer expertise on the matter of Ambulls Ambulls matter," Echo said rather skeptically. He'd need a good reason to stick out his own neck for that cause; the beasts were far too large to implant with a psyber-lure, so the risks seemed high for little or no personal reward.

"But otherwise, yes yes yes. We need your priesthood need need need for House Absalom's prosperity, Absalom Absalom Absalom to say nothing of say nothing the Omnissiah's will Omnissiah Omnissiah Omnissiah. It is wrong wrong and shortsighted shortsighted to deny your role deny role."

The Navis shook his head and grumbled, "As for Moore, Moore Moore Moore damn his blasphemy and hubris damn damn blasphemy. Noctus already said already he modifies his vehicle modifies. Thus, he is he a heretek heretek heretek heretek heretek heretek. His life his is forfeit forfeit."

Echo's shoulder-mounted hellpistol, recently installed by the Magos herself, bounced up and down slightly as though nodding its agreement.

"In any event, any let us speak speak with the good Noctus good Noctus. I have some I have suggestions to discuss suggestions. We may yet we may persuade the Captain Captain Captain Captain."

[Haval]

'Yes it's probably better to clarify things. Do we allow the election to play out as it may for instance?'

'I'd also like to think we could improve this place on the cheap anyway, but that may be naive of me.'

[Kaptin Keen]

Use the sensors on the Terminus to look for likely spots on the planet for excavation. Mount dozer blades on all those big vehicles, start digging, sell off the artifacts, and invest part of the profits in a fleet of near-derelict tugs. Send the tugs out to the asteroid belt, and start systematically giving each and every asteroid a nudge, to send it on a course to crash here - preferably in some deep desert area where no one goes. In ten years time, we could be harvesting crops five times a year. And all the might of the Imperium rests on a foundation of ... humble wheat.

Only problem in this plan: I have no idea whether a belt of water asteroids exists in this system.

Plan B: If no watery asteroid belt exists in this system, I propose digging out anything valuable here, then uprooting everyone who wants to come.

[Destro_Yersul]

Leaving the others behind for the moment, Echo and Ravia set off looking for Noctus. They found him before too long, working on one of the temple's air circulators. The side panel had been removed, and the techpriest was up to his elbows in wires. "These require frequent maintenance," he said as they approached. "Keeping the temple running is a never-ending source of work. Could you assist me, while we talk?"

[Destro_Yersul]

The market area Moore had driven them past seemed an ideal location to bring down goods and start trading. It didn't take long to find a good landing site nearby, if not necessarily in the city, and from there it was a simple matter of logistics. Macharius didn't need to worry about that aspect of things too much - he had people for that sort of thing, but most of the crew were ketp very busy. Macharius' shuttle fleet was only so big, and they had acquired a lot of commodities to bring down. It took the better part of the rest of the day, and most of the night, to finish unloading everything.

The next morning, looking down from the top of the temple spire, they could see several plumes of dust, approaching the city from different directions. The sand and dirt filled the skies, making the convoys visible for miles. The Ruster clanlord was first to arrive, perhaps tipped off by Max Stone that he should show up and make a good first impression on the outlanders. He and several other Rusters rolled up to the market in a battered chimera, the hull armour pitted and scoured by the elements. It ran well enough, for how poorly it looked, and the Ruster clanlord - Bruce was his name - turned out to be a muscular, bearded man, with a leather apron full of tools. Most of the rusters wore toolbelts, actually, and carried old but well-cared for lasguns, and other small arms. Bruce spent the first few minutes of his time examining their goods, and exchanging pleasantries.

The other two, Smokers and Lumes, showed up about the same time. The Smoker clanlord was a huge, bald man with an eyepatch and a face like curdled milk. He wore armour, like Joe Moore, but his was covered in grime, the whatever insignia it might once have born obscured by a thick coating of black soot. He lost no time, upon arrival, sending a few men to keep watch on the perimeter in case Moore decided to pay a visit. That done, he sat around scowling, and waiting to speak with someone in charge. The final clanlord was actually a woman, with hair buzzed short and a huge pair of ancient driving goggles covering the top half of her face. The lower half was also covered, but with a bright red bandana that had frayed aorund the edges. Unlike the others, who had all driven enclosed vehicles, she showed up on a motorbike, one of the ancient sort well suited to crossing sand dunes and other uneven terrain.

[rax]

"If they can keep that old rustbucket running, my vote is for recruiting from the Rusters," Hannabel observes casually.

OOC: Speaking to whomever might be listening from the command crew.

[Haval]

Use the sensors on the Terminus to look for likely spots on the planet for excavation. Mount dozer blades on all those big vehicles, start digging, sell off the artifacts, and invest part of the profits in a fleet of near-derelict tugs. Send the tugs out to the asteroid belt, and start systematically giving each and every asteroid a nudge, to send it on a course to crash here - preferably in some deep desert area where no one goes. In ten years time, we could be harvesting crops five times a year. And all the might of the Imperium rests on a foundation of ... humble wheat.

Only problem in this plan: I have no idea whether a belt of water asteroids exists in this system.

Plan B: If no watery asteroid belt exists in this system, I propose digging out anything valuable here, then uprooting everyone who wants to come.

Anika is interested in the possibility of engineering planets. 'Wait...is that actually possible?' Maybe they used to do that sort of thing back before Felidae went into the ice. 'If it works it would seem like it would be worth doing all the time. Assuming you can only lightly drop an asteroid on a planet.'

'And taking anyone who wants to go with us is the very least we could do here. I assume we can find a use for them and I can't see Moore objecting.'

Later

'I wonder if the gun still works on that thing.' Anika replies, 'And I'd like to think we wouldn't have to choose. Do they get on with each other? And how feral is the Lumes woman?'

She'll introduce herself to the collective warlords, 'Greetings from the Manticore's Sting. Please let us know what we can do to help.'

[Kaptin Keen]

Anika is interested in the possibility of engineering planets. 'Wait...is that actually possible?' Maybe they used to do that sort of thing back before Felidae went into the ice. 'If it works it would seem like it would be worth doing all the time. Assuming you can only lightly drop an asteroid on a planet.'

You know .. I have no idea? I heard about it being done, back in the day, and it sounds simple and doable. All that's really lacking on this planet is water, right? Of course, having a steady stream of icy asteroids dropping on your head might not appeal to the locals.


In practical terms it would be a question of Acquisition Points, right? I imagine near-derelict tugs aren't that expensive to someone of Macharius' calibre, but this system might not offer much in the way of refuelling them, and also, what ever goes into refuelling them maybe isn't cheap? Although I'm pretty sure fuel isn't weighing super heavily on our finances.

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius speaks to Bruce before the others arrive. Clanlord Bruce. Lord-Captain Macharius Absalom. Tell me of your clan, and your goals. How would you rule? How would you serve the God-Emperor?

[Blarghy]

Leaving the others behind for the moment, Echo and Ravia set off looking for Noctus. They found him before too long, working on one of the temple's air circulators. The side panel had been removed, and the techpriest was up to his elbows in wires. "These require frequent maintenance," he said as they approached. "Keeping the temple running is a never-ending source of work. Could you assist me, while we talk?"

Kennoch stepped aside to let the Magos assist. He was silent for a long moment: this simple scenario illustrated to him more keenly than anything else he'd seen just how depleted the local Mechanicus had become. He assumed that Noctus was the leader of this chapter, and thus the planet; surely the senior priest would've met directly with someone of Macharius's rank. Yet here was the Fabricator-General, not deep in study or busy with politics, but instead personally handling basic maintenance.

Their situation is truly dire. How many Adepts even reside here at this point? Recruitment must be nearly impossible.

Next, he struggled with how to raise his concerns. It was such a difficult and delicate matter, walking the knife's edge between duty to his Captain and what Echo saw as his responsibilities toward the Imperium as a whole. And in any case, he needed to be subtle.

"...Honored priest, honored" he began slowly, "our conversation before before was cut short, cut and I have more questions more I have. Can you tell me can you more about your original arrangement your arrangement with the Urussalin dynasty Urussalin Urussalin Urussalin?" He gestured toward Ravia. "The Magos says the Magos it involved a transport route involved route all the way all to the Lathes Lathes Lathes Lathes."

[Destro_Yersul]

She'll introduce herself to the collective warlords, [COLOR="#0000CD"]'Greetings from the Manticore's Sting. Please let us know what we can do to help.'

The lady from the Lumes spoke first, pointing at a barrel of fuel-grade Prometheum. "How much of that you got, an' what you want for it?"

The Smoker man snorted, and waved a hand dismissively at her. "Food, parts, water if you have spare. I'll also be wanting a look at any weaponry you have for trade. Weaponry, and armour."


Macharius speaks to Bruce before the others arrive. Clanlord Bruce. Lord-Captain Macharius Absalom. Tell me of your clan, and your goals. How would you rule? How would you serve the God-Emperor?

"Honour to meet you, Lord Captain. Max Stone says he thinks you're a straight shooter." Bruce offered to shake hands with Macharius, but continued to speak whether Macharius took him up on that or not. "We're called the Rusters, on account of the state of most of our vehicles. Not much sense painting them, you see, sandstorm'll strip it right back off quick as lightning. We're the working man's clan. We keep things running, especially in and around the city and our outposts. The Vulkanites are good, but there's not enough of 'em. Truth be told, I'd probably have joined 'em myself, if I didn't think I was needed out here. They keep themselves removed from politics, which is smart, but it means that if something breaks down too close to the election, well, it might not get fixed till after. So your pardon, sir, but I really see myself as doing the Omnissiah's work, first and foremost. Even if I'm not properly initiated, and all."

He paused, to gauge the effect his words were having. "Way I see it, sir, there needs to be people like me, to get into all the grubby corners and keep things on track. Our vehicles run well, but it's been a while since any Ruster won the election, on account of us being typically less aggressive about it. Victory has bounced around a bit, sure enough, though the last while it's just been the Immortans and Smokers. Max Stone, he's a good man, but he doesn't want the job, and the Immortans have a lot of dedicated war equipment that we don't. A few more heavy weapons in our camp would go a long way. If I got put in charge, though? I think I'd make the partnership with the Interceptors more formal, try to stamp out the raiding and make it safe to expand the city. We've got no shortage of men willing to work, but it's just not safe enough outside the walls to strike out on your own. Safety in numbers. And in great big walls with plenty of guns. If we got things set up well and truly safe enough, I'd love to take back some of the big excavations, and start digging up all the old tech down there again."

"It did, yes," Noctus said. "The Urussalins had exclusive transport rights to everything we dug up. It was, I understand, quite a coup for them to have secured the deal, but the Lathes wanted what we had buried here, and the Urussalins were the best way to get it back to Calixis without a dedicated Explorator fleet. We'd study it here first, catalogue all the finds to ensure nothing went missing along the way, and then package everything for transport. It would all get picked up once or twice a year by a Dynasty vessel, and they'd be paid their fee on delivery to the Lathes. Given time, I'm sure we would have finished with excavating, and then perhaps switched focus on the world. There are some significant mineral deposits, once you're through the aquifers. All the groundwater is a powerful resource, as well. Was there anything more specific you wanted to know?"

[rax]

Tagging along with Anika, Hannabel stays to speak with the leader of the Lumes. "Hello there, I'm Hannabel, Lord-Captain Absalom's driver. That's a nice set of wheels you've got there. Build it yerself?"

[Haval]

Anika looked appraisingly at the Lumes woman and wondered what effect the Prometheum had on their vehicles. Assuming they weren't just drinking it. 'I'm happy to give you as much of that as you can afford. Subject to our whatever restrictions we have to put up with from Moore of course.' She'll fish a dataslate out of her coat which contained a few suggestions of equipment that they might need for Port Davies. 'I suppose the question is what can you give us in return if you don't have the thrones? I believe we're here in search of old tech that you aren't necessarily using anymore. Even if it's broken I'm sure Ravia can get it fixed up. Alternatively if any one fancies coming to work for us as part of the deal I'm sure we can work something out.' In theory feral worlders often made some of the best fighters and it didn't hurt to ask.

To the Smoker, 'I think we brought along lasguns for just this eventuality. Not very impressive, but probably better then nothing if you don't have access to them. May I ask who you usually end up fighting with?'

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius shakes the man's hand enthusiastically. Splendid, splendid! A true servant of the God-Emperor, what? You know your place, and the place of your clan, in the greater harmonious whole. As Saint Eustacio taught, there's a place for every man and a man for every place. So you wish to build a stable and prosperous planet. A good goal, and one I could get behind. What are you lacking? Besides artillery, of course.


----------------
After speaking to Bruce, he walks over to the Smoker chief. Clanlord. I hear that you and Lord Moore have your share of disputes. Tell me, how would you rule in his stead? How would you serve Him on Terra as ruler of this planet?

[Blarghy]

"There is, is is" Echo confirmed.

Every Rogue Trader craves profit, but at the moment, Macharius appears more interested in the archeotech. If he stands to gain more from working with the Mechanicus than he could expect to obtain on his own, then perhaps he will let simple economics guide his thinking.

"The Urussalins Urussalins Urussalins Urussalins also received some of the archeotech some archeotech for their efforts, yes their efforts? Can you give me can you give any examples any? And furthermore, and and does your chapter does still have the numbers still have to uphold uphold your original bargain bargain bargain bargain?"

If Noctus could barely keep his own temple running, Kennoch wondered if he even could satisfy the Lord-Commander's needs, should an arrangement be reached.

[Destro_Yersul]

Tagging along with Anika, Hannabel stays to speak with the leader of the Lumes. "Hello there, I'm Hannabel, Lord-Captain Absalom's driver. That's a nice set of wheels you've got there. Build it yerself?"

"Found her, fixed her up myself. Made a bunch of special modifications." The lady looked Hannabel up and down. "You're the driver, huh? What do you drive?"


'I suppose the question is what can you give us in return if you don't have the thrones? I believe we're here in search of old tech that you aren't necessarily using anymore. Even if it's broken I'm sure Ravia can get it fixed up. Alternatively if any one fancies coming to work for us as part of the deal I'm sure we can work something out.' In theory feral worlders often made some of the best fighters and it didn't hurt to ask.

To the Smoker, 'I think we brought along lasguns for just this eventuality. Not very impressive, but probably better then nothing if you don't have access to them. May I ask who you usually end up fighting with?'

"You give me prometheum, I can get you whatever you want. If you want men, I'm sure there's a few who'd love a chance to get off this rock, vehicles, equipment, those are easy. There's a ton of old mines, with not much reason to use them anymore, all packed full of excavators and digging implements. I can have a truckload of it for you tomorrow."

Deacon grunted. "Moore. Raiders. Who else? Lasguns are good, no need to get more ammo when you can just recharge the pack. You get ones with the power setting switch? Those are best."


Macharius shakes the man's hand enthusiastically. Splendid, splendid! A true servant of the God-Emperor, what? You know your place, and the place of your clan, in the greater harmonious whole. As Saint Eustacio taught, there's a place for every man and a man for every place. So you wish to build a stable and prosperous planet. A good goal, and one I could get behind. What are you lacking? Besides artillery, of course.

"Some of that prometheum fuel would help. Our vehicles run on refined oil, what our ancestors named guzzoline. Using actual prometheum results in increased power output from the engines. You get a consistently higher top speed. Artillery would be one thing, and heavy weapons another. It helps to have an edge in the election, on account of there not being much in the way of rules. Posting men with heavy weapons along the course is something of a tradition. Then it's just a matter of arming and training as many of our people as we can, and building fortifications to make things secure. If you could get us a supply of new vehicles from somewhere offworld, or just help the Vulkanites build up enough that they can start building more again, that would be great too. Lot of our older stuff is barely holding together."


After speaking to Bruce, he walks over to the Smoker chief. Clanlord. I hear that you and Lord Moore have your share of disputes. Tell me, how would you rule in his stead? How would you serve Him on Terra as ruler of this planet?

"Putting it lightly," Deacon agreed. He seemed a little confused by the rest of Macharius' question, though. "If I could get rid of Moore for good, you mean? He's been a right bugger to kill so far. Not for lack of trying in the last few elections. Probably still end up with a few small fights, takes a while to get over old anger, but I'd take his clan over, take his equipment and strongholds, and that'd be a start. Less fighting, when you're obviously too strong for anybody to take."

"Examples? Why?" Noctus stopped working for a moment, glancing over at Echo. Then he composed himself. "I think there are a few old things in storage, still. They were supposed to go to the Lathes, but no ships came to make that final run. As for us here, we would need an influx of recruits in order to get back up to the old numbers, but it could happen. Likely as part of a slow wind up on the excavations. The populace is lightly versed in the lesser mysteries, purely as a matter of necessity, and we have not done a recruiting drive for some time. Part of the requirement for remaining apolitical, you understand. What would it look like, to people like Moore, if we started trying to build up our numbers?"

[Haval]

'I admit I'm not sure what kind of lasguns we picked up, but I suppose I could see what we have lying around in the ship's armoury.' Anika will have someone check that at the first opportunity. 'Or we could see if we have anything heavier?'

'Anyone who wants to come work for us as part of the deal is welcome, but I admit I have no idea when we'll be back this way. Those who are overly attached to this place should probably stay here.'

To the Lumes woman, 'I think we'll take any mining equipment you don't want and we'll try and work out a fair trade for it tomorrow. It does seem rather a shame though. If we do make it back out here I think we can try to find something more useful then promethium and guns.'

[Blarghy]

It would look like you were fulfilling your holy purpose, Kennoch thought harshly. Does Noctus even have the disposition to stand tall and retake his place in this world, if I manage to provide a path? I understand his predicament, but this priest seems almost timid.

"You may soon you may have larger problems problems than your High Clanlord, Clanlord High Clanlord" he said bluntly. It was time to just get to the meat of the matter.

"The Lord-Commander Absalom Absalom Absalom Absalom intends to bring this world intends this world to heel heel heel. As is his duty, his duty" Echo points out quickly. "Moore is a serpent Moore serpent. His days his are numbered numbered. If you take advantage if you of this opportunity, this opportunity you could prosper again you could you could. Unfortunately unfortunately..."

The Navigator tapped his gloved knuckles together in thought. "Macharius does not Macharius Macharius Macharius trust the Mechanicus Mechanicus Mechanicus Mechanicus. He covets wealth, of course, of course wealth but to perform his duties perform duties he also needs archeotech needs archeotech. He fears your order fears your will deny him access deny access and limit him limit to meager scraps scraps. In any case, any he is allied he is to the Ecclesiarchy Ecclesiarchy Ecclesiarchy Ecclesiarchy. He believes he can believes find better fortune better without your interference without."

He paused to let Noctus digest that troubling information.

"But there is yet time time yet. If we demonstrate if we the usefulness of the Mechanicus usefulness and the wonders wonders you bestowed upon bestowed the Urussalins, Urussalins Urussalins Urussalins Macharius may be swayed may be.

"I wish to help wish to you help yourself help help help. For the good the good of House Absalom, Absalom the Adeptus Mechanicus, Mechanicus and the greater Imperium Imperium Imperium Imperium. What say you what?"

[PotatoGolem]

Training men, building fortifications, and importing vehicles will likely take more time than you have before the race, will it not? However, promethium and heavy weaponry should be available. I shall see what I can provide. And what does your clan have to offer in exchange?

---------------

Annoyed by the man's lack of piety, Macharius excuses himself politely after a few minutes and goes to speak to the Lumes leader. Greetings, Clanlord. It appears you are the only leader I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting. Tell me, how would you rule? How would your leadership serve the Golden Throne and Mankind?

[rax]

"Found her, fixed her up myself. Made a bunch of special modifications." The lady looked Hannabel up and down. "You're the driver, huh? What do you drive?""Whatever the Lord-Captain needs driving," Hannabel answers with a grin. "Right now, I'm flying the Aquila," she says, jabbing her thumb at the landing platform on the Mechanicus temple. "The rest of the time I make sure the Manticore's Sting gets where she needs to go," she continues, now jabbing her thumb skywards. "But whenever we need to go groundbound, I drive as well - bikes, limos, skimmers, tanks. If it rolls or flies, I can handle it."

"Speaking of which, Max Stone says you and your Veluminaries are crazies that worship your wheels and make a big nuisance of yourselves raiding and pillaging. What's that all about? Why the obsession with vehicles?" Hannabel asks straightforwardly.

OOC: Busy at work, so my posting rate is a bit low, but I'm assuming Hannabel can get a little more talky time in before Macharius barges in.

[Leon]

Ravia had been content to let Echo speak and just assist for the most part.

++He wants Archeotech but without knowing what Archeotech he actually can make use of, much in the way that everyone craves the older technology for its superior characteristics.++
++While I am sure that more common current age parts can be well substituted for most of what is not the parts that cannot he would not know of what to do without one of an Adeptus's knowledge. The ecclesiarchy rots the memory stacks of many a otherwise useful human and has its hooks deep in the trader. They wont help him one iota with what he actually need doing++

++While the other trader house had the deed to the world as a whole im sure that The Lathes don't care who provides the shipments on that they come, i suspect that they are out there polling other clan lords as to whom to make a pious puppet of++
++What is the Vulkanites thoughts on who would be a worthwhile leader for this planet?++
++Your Temple is here and you should have an active say in things that will affect your planets outcomes over just the whims of a trader++



In Binary interwoven with the above

##In strict confidence: Archeotech predominately required, regarding reconstruction of a Jupiter class battle-cruiser##
##Cross reference to the need for adepts who know Naval Architectural practices//Archeotech##

[Destro_Yersul]

Training men, building fortifications, and importing vehicles will likely take more time than you have before the race, will it not? However, promethium and heavy weaponry should be available. I shall see what I can provide. And what does your clan have to offer in exchange?

"Yes, of course, but I was speaking of long-term plans, there. In the short term, better fuel and some heavy guns. Maybe an edge in the election, if you're not planning to compete yourself? Either way, I'm happy to offer you an alliance. Bringing back the offworld trading interests would help prop things up until we can get properly established."


"Whatever the Lord-Captain needs driving," Hannabel answers with a grin. "Right now, I'm flying the Aquila," she says, jabbing her thumb at the landing platform on the Mechanicus temple. "The rest of the time I make sure the Manticore's Sting gets where she needs to go," she continues, now jabbing her thumb skywards. "But whenever we need to go groundbound, I drive as well - bikes, limos, skimmers, tanks. If it rolls or flies, I can handle it."

"Speaking of which, Max Stone says you and your Veluminaries are crazies that worship your wheels and make a big nuisance of yourselves raiding and pillaging. What's that all about? Why the obsession with vehicles?" Hannabel asks straightforwardly.


Annoyed by the man's lack of piety, Macharius excuses himself politely after a few minutes and goes to speak to the Lumes leader. Greetings, Clanlord. It appears you are the only leader I have not yet had the pleasure of meeting. Tell me, how would you rule? How would your leadership serve the Golden Throne and Mankind?

"Hot damn. I bet a flyer like that puts out some proper speed. Course, you miss out on having the wind whip past your face as you go." The woman laughed. "You been talking to that old troppo git? He's always having a whinge about something or other. He's not wrong that we love our wheels, though. Take good care of 'em, boost 'em up. We care about performance, we do. And if we need to lift a few things here and there, well, what's a bit of fun, aye?"

"As for the obsession, well, hop on a bike and go whipping through the rocks some time. Blowing up dust, hot air in your face, nothing else like it." Macharius walked up just as the woman finished speaking to Hannabel, and she turned to greet him. "Hey there, boss man. Was talking to your broker, and I hear you've got plenty of prometheum we might buy. I'm going to scare up some mining equipment for you, see if we can't have a deal. You're gonna watch the festivities? When we win, this year for sure, I'm going to get the Vulkanites to start cranking out vehicle parts again. Fix up some of the old junkers and go critter hunting. Plenty of big scary beasties out in the wastes to take down, just need a good fortified spot to work from."

"Distressing," Noctus said, at Echo's news. "I had hoped he could simply wait. After the election, as I said, we would be more than happy to trade. Especially if, as you say, Moore's days are numbered. But your Magos is correct. The accords, ownership of the planet, that is the domain of the Administratum. The Lathes would jump at the chance to restart the flow of Archeotech, and the word of the Lords Dragon goes a long way in Calixis. I'm sure they would allow you to take over the Urussalin contract. Perhaps I could prepare something to that effect, so that your captain might see the value of working with us?"

"For a leader, I prefer someone who will work with the Temple, rather than against us. We will not rule here ourselves, but seek a partnership. I believe that of all the groups, the Interceptors align most closely with our interests. Though I say this in confidence, you understand."

##Jupiter class? I am unfamiliar with this designation. I am not a shipwright##
##Ref: Cruiser scale archeotech components: Secure an alliance with the Lathes. Their resources are second to none within the sector##

[Haval]

if you're not planning to compete yourself?

To Macharius, 'We may want to talk about that. If only to make sure we're all on the same page.'

After the Lumes leader had finished, 'Everyone should have a hobby. And you make living here sound almost entertaining. You probably should tell us more of these 'beasties' though.' Especially if they were to be participating.

[rax]

"Hot damn. I bet a flyer like that puts out some proper speed. Course, you miss out on having the wind whip past your face as you go." The woman laughed. "You been talking to that old troppo git? He's always having a whinge about something or other. He's not wrong that we love our wheels, though. Take good care of 'em, boost 'em up. We care about performance, we do. And if we need to lift a few things here and there, well, what's a bit of fun, aye?"

"As for the obsession, well, hop on a bike and go whipping through the rocks some time. Blowing up dust, hot air in your face, nothing else like it.""I'll bet it's a hoot," Hannabel nods. "But why do you need to form your own clan to go joyriding? Everyone here seems to love their wheels and it seems like they could all do with people that know how to tune 'em and ride 'em properly? I mean, what is it that your clan wants to do here? Just ride fast and free forever?"

[Destro_Yersul]

To Macharius, 'We may want to talk about that. If only to make sure we're all on the same page.'

"If you need a vehicle," Bruce said, "I'll sell you one of our surplus. We've got a few that could serve well with a day or two of work."


After the Lumes leader had finished, 'Everyone should have a hobby. And you make living here sound almost entertaining. You probably should tell us more of these 'beasties' though.' Especially if they were to be participating.


"I'll bet it's a hoot," Hannabel nods. "But why do you need to form your own clan to go joyriding? Everyone here seems to love their wheels and it seems like they could all do with people that know how to tune 'em and ride 'em properly? I mean, what is it that your clan wants to do here? Just ride fast and free forever?"

"More or less, yeah. I mean, everyone here loves their wheels, but nobody else loves speed and power like we do. We're the clan of the free. We're not uptight like the Interceptors, or worried about our holdings like the Smokers an' Immortans. Nobody tells us what to do."

On the subject of creatures, she laughed. "Well, there's these big sorta bug things, and scorpions the size of tanks, and some of the caves have these ambush things that drop from the ceiling and wrap around your head..." She demonstrated with hand gestures, and mimed falling over.

[rax]

Hannabel pauses to scratch her chin, studying the Lumes' clanlord. "And what did your people do before the Urussalins disappeared? I mean, how did riding fast come to be your purpose in life?"

[Blarghy]

The Navigator felt mildly surprised--and impressed. I assumed that Stone came to the Temple of his own accord, but perhaps that's not the case. You may have some political abilities in you after all, Fabricator-General.

"Every thing I have said I have have said is in confidence confidence confidence," Echo replied dryly. "Macharius seems amenable seems to working with working the Interceptors Interceptors Interceptors Interceptors. I will encourage this I will. Your proposal proposal sounds wise too sounds. I will do will what I can what what."

This more or less concluded Kennoch's goals with the Temple, for the moment. He waited to see if either of the tech-priests had more to discuss, but he himself had delivered his warning and advice; now he could only wait--and carefully influence.

We can keep this scene going if either of you needs to, but I've said my piece. I'm ready to go looking for beast-wranglers whenever.

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius excuses himself from the conversation with the Loony leader and spends the remaining time making polite conversation with the various Clanlords, seeing what resources they want and what they have to offer. Without making it too obvious, he's particularly attentive to Bruce, plumbing for details on available vehicles and specifics on how the race is run.

----------
Once the Clanlords have departed, Macharius gathers his command staff. Well then. We now know the situation here and the various parties. Seems like an interesting method of selection, what? This planet needs stability, order, and the Imperium to run efficiently, but the payoffs are considerable. My inclination is to run the race ourselves, with the support of the Smokers and Interceptors. Once we win, I'll appoint Bruce to rule in my stead, with Max Stone to advise him and run security. Any opinions, chums?

[Haval]

To Bruce, 'Hold that thought.' She assumed they wouldn't have anything as suitable but will call the Sting at some point to check.

Anika looks at the Lumes chief with distaste. 'Bugs. I'm not overly fond of the regular sized ones. Perhaps bringing bigger guns here would be a public sevice.'

Until the clan lords have left and they can speak freely she will ask them questions about the state of Viatrames to judge what sort of tech might actually help these people. She will also try to keep an eye on her less diplomatic colleages.

To Macharius, ''Always have plenty of opinions. Whether they're usful or not is another matter.' She clears her throat, 'Someone ought to try and fix Viatrames as no one else seems to be interested in trying. Doesn't mean it has to be us but since we're here I feel some obligation.'

"The other clan lords seem trustworthy enough but even if we tried to work with Moore the problem would be the same. We can't watch these people all the time and we have no reason to expect them to behave themselves without a mutual dislike of Moore to bond them together. Getting someone else in here to help would likely be helpful but since there are numerous arguments for and against whoever we ask I am neutral on that question. Assuming the local Mechanicus are trustworthy and have an Astropath perhaps they'll be willing to call us if anything terrible happens.'

'Somebody tell me what I've forgotten.'

[Kaptin Keen]

What we need is a model of motivation. A clear goal to pursue, and a clear path to get there.

As an example: Mount dozer blades on all those nice vehicles, get digging, sell off archeotech, get profits, invest in improvements we can provide. And meanwhile, we build a proper administration, with military muscle their paltry renegades cannot hope to match. Ending in a simple choice: Play nice and be succesful - or don't, and be gone.

[rax]

After any last words from the Loony Lady
Hannabel shrugs. "The payoffs are all hypothetical. This planet has a population smaller than the Sting and the inhabitants are at each others throats. My guess is that the Veluminaries, at least, won't bend the knee to anyone but their own, and they're probably the least interested in actually running the place. So no matter what, you'd likely have to put down at least one clan just to bring any long term peace to Viatrames. Killing off one clan also means recruiting even more people from somewhere else to colonize the place properly. I think this place is a bad investment. We should stick to the original plan - hire the people and machines we need to help get Port Davis up and running, and leave."

"If we must put down roots here, it should be with minimal investment. If we're going to dig out some archaeotech, we should do it in alliance with the Mechanicus. They've probably got connections ready to dispose of it and getting the cog-boys on our side is worth a lot more than the planet itself. Of course, before we sign on to dig up anything, we should conduct a proper survey ourselves."

[Kaptin Keen]

This place is not a bad investment. It's low risk - high reward - all the way. You said it yourself: The whole planet has less population than the Sting. We could take this world in a matter of hours, if we so pleased. But there's no reason to do that.

All we need to do here is get the locals working for us.

They don't manage to find the archeotech? So what? We move on, nothing ventured, nothing lost.

They do begin digging up wonders of a bygone age? Well hooray for us, we laugh all the way to the Galactis Nobilis Bank. And we don't need to look at this as a colony in need of development. We can view this as a voluntary work camp, with the most succesful workers able to buy a place in our other colonies - for the money we paid them to dig up our archeotech.

You, Hannabel, simply aren't capitalist enough for the 41st millennium.

[Destro_Yersul]

Hannabel pauses to scratch her chin, studying the Lumes' clanlord. "And what did your people do before the Urussalins disappeared? I mean, how did riding fast come to be your purpose in life?"

The woman shrugged. "That was a long time ago. I wasn't around. None of my people were around. So I don't really know."


Macharius excuses himself from the conversation with the Loony leader and spends the remaining time making polite conversation with the various Clanlords, seeing what resources they want and what they have to offer. Without making it too obvious, he's particularly attentive to Bruce, plumbing for details on available vehicles and specifics on how the race is run.

The resources on offer were, realatively speaking, small. The planet had minerals and a wealth of oil, but in material terms the big selling point was vehicles - over the course of a few conversations, Macharius got the impression that the vehicles here, even if they had degraded somewhat, were all very robust. The engines had been tweaked and adjusted to optimise power from a fairly inefficient fuel, and running them on prometheum would be a notable boost in power. The Vulkanites had all the patterns on hand to fabricate parts for the things, and with a little more manufacturing infrastructure in place the planet could turn a solid business just off the engines. The other point, of course, was manpower. While the population was small, every man, woman, and child in it had some basic understanding of how their technology worked. This was, of course, a necessity born of isolation, but it also made them some of the most technically savvy non-Mechanicus people Macharius had ever seen.

What they wanted, of course, was what he had brought - Jonell had provided solid advice, and Macharius had made quite a few good deals in order to load the Sting with cargo. With what the inhabitants were willing to give him in exchange, he would turn a decent profit off the trading alone, as well as picking up the equipment and people needed for Port Davis. Bruce sent off an order to his people to figure out what they would be willing to part with from their motor pool, and offered to let Ravia come and inspect them. On the election race, what he told Macharius was mostly what they already had heard: It was an anything-goes race from the start line to the finish along a set course. Part of the course ran through caves, which was fine for the Viatramans, since nobody owned any flyers, but meant that Macharius couldn't simply enter his Aquila and win that way. He did give out some other details on the course, though; the start and finish sections were mostly flat, but there were some rocky areas near the beginning. The caves were entered through a naroow canyon, which tended to bottleneck the racers, and the ridges and canyons on the other end of the caves were a popular spot to post ambushers.


To Bruce, 'Hold that thought.' She assumed they wouldn't have anything as suitable but will call the Sting at some point to check.

Until the clan lords have left and they can speak freely she will ask them questions about the state of Viatrames to judge what sort of tech might actually help these people. She will also try to keep an eye on her less diplomatic colleages.

One of the things Macharius did not yet own was a supply of ground vehicles. The dynasty had not been left with much in terms of military power, or even groundcars, and the rebuilding they were now undertaking had not yet run them across a large supply. The result was, ultimately, that they did not already own anything that would be suitable to enter the election.

In terms of tech, the big things they were lacking were medical facilities and infrastructure expansion. What was already here was about at capacity providing for the current population, with the exception of Beacon City's fusion reactor. The generatorium, housed within the Vulkanite temple, would easily be able to accomodate power requirements for the foreseeable future, no matter how much expanding they did.

[rax]

"Capitawhat? Never heard of it. But for a woman with no proven skills except shooting things, you're suddenly full of bright ideas, aren't you?" Hannabel replies archly. "Perhaps you should be the Lord-Captain's seneschal, seeing how you're now an expert on the proper methods of colonizing and exploiting whatever real estate we happen to come across."

"Of course, all you've really offered so far is to put a bolter - real or metaphorical - to the head of every man, woman and child on this planet and make them dig for treasure. You can pretty it up all you like, but it's still no more than good old-fashioned indentured servitude - slavery, even. My guess is even Max Stone would find that a bitter pill to swallow, no matter how much Macharius tells him it's the will of Him on Earth," she shrugs.

"Anyway, this conversation is boring. I'm going to see what the local moonshine is like. Call me when you're ready for lift-off."

[Kaptin Keen]

.. Slavery? I beg your pardon! I'll have you know I'd pay very handsomely for any artifacts recovered. Handsomely enough that it would convince the locals to dig rather than fight. But .. yes, then I'd take a premium price for relocation to a balmier colony. Supply and demand, after all. Services cost what the customers are able to pay.

Felidae's brow crinkles, quite obviously trying to come up with another proven skill besides shooting things - and failing. Eventually, she simply shrugs.

.. shooting things has been a cornerstone of diplomacy since time out of memory. It's always been 'carrot or stick'.

[Haval]

Anika sighed, although Hannabel's concern wasn't unrealistic. 'Frankly I have no interest in going into the slavery business either so lets try not to do that.' she says firmly. 'And I had imagined something less industrial. The planet continues roughly as it has while we try to supply it better. It might make the potential payoff less impressive, but on the other hand you don't have to throw resources into ruling this place like a noble fiefdom. Taking control of it is one thing. Keeping control of it is another unless we intend to stay here and run it ourselves. Which is why I suggest that we don't even try except through alliances with the locals.'

'If there is any sign that anything we do here is making things worse I will make sure I hear about it. In theory if I have any authorlty at all here I can more or less intervene as I see fit.'

[Blarghy]

Earlier

After spending the latter half of their first day at the Temple, Echo returned with the others the next morning but excused himself from meeting the lesser Clanlords. He was curious, but doubted that his personal involvement would accomplish much. Better to request a summary from the Seneschal later and spend the time on his own errand.

All five of his bodyguards accompanied him to the local market. This city might've been nearly as anarchic as Footfall, so the Rings of Castermire formed a literal circle around their lord and his familiar as he browsed, hands near their weapons and expressions stern to warn off beggars, robbers, and the merely curious. Would the ignorant locals even recognize a Navigator, or see him as anything but a mutant? Hopefully they wouldn't look past his ornate void-suit.

"Stay close to me stay me," Echo told Mr. Wah Dell. This was a bad place to wander off alone.

First and foremost, Kennoch asked about beast-wranglers. He spread the word that House Absalom was in the market for a team of professionals to take off-world--a reward in and of itself, surely, even beyond hard payment. He kept watch for a cantina or cafe of good quality (or what counted for it, on this slum) and made it known that he would be there soon to interview anyone who was interested. Furthermore, the Lord Castermire hoped to sweeten the bargain by offering a reward for a sample of their work: a live, native, trained animal to demonstrate the skill of the applicants. He would pay for the best one, for his personal use.

Kennoch gave time for news to spread and people to gather, busying himself with some shopping. If they were going to capture and tame the Blue Caernun, just as a start, they needed both professionals and the right equipment.

Since the beast-trainers are for the colony, can I pawn off the actual roll on someone with Commerce? I was thinking that Echo would weed out the dregs, select two or three good teams (if available), and then present them to Macharius to hire his favorite. I plan to use my Memorance Implant to show off images of the beauty of our colony planet, compared to this hell-hole, to hopefully give a bonus to the final roll. I doubt you'll actually give a bonus for buying a xeno-beast like described above (that's mostly fluff), but hey, if you want to, I won't turn it down! Either way, I'm willing to play out a short scene attempting this, if you are too.

Does the two-steps-rarer rule apply to familiars? Because that would make a Best-quality one Unique, and Viatrames definitely doesn't seem lacking in beasts. Furthermore, I'm not buying the finished product, just the base creature. I think it's cooler to have Ravia handle the butchery creation of familiars aboard the ship; surely she's qualified. I'll just make the roll, and you can determine the modifiers, yeah?

Xeno-Beast (PF46 +/- ???): [roll0]

And then for the Webbers, I'm probably doomed to fail with these penalties, but I'll cast a wide net and see if I catch anything. Since it wouldn't make sense for me to succeed on buying a crate of them but fail to buy a lower number for the Rings or Kennoch himself, I'll vary the quality of each set.

A crate (Standard, 50-100; +0) of Common (+0) Webbers (Extremely Rare; -30) for the colony (PF46 - 30 = 16): [roll1]
A set (Trivial, 5; +20) of Good (-10) Webbers (-30) for the Rings (26): [roll2]
A single (Negligible; +30) Best (-30) Webber (-30) for Echo himself (16): [roll3]


Later

Kennoch returned at the Captain's summons, hopefully with new friends in tow. Whatever local trainers he found, if any, were told to wait until after the Command Staff's meeting for their introduction. He requested a general outline of the Clanlords from Anika and read it while the others got started.

The Navis listened quietly, looking between Hannabel and Felidae with private concern. They still see archeotech as something that can be sold at market. What a dangerous perspective. At least they're apparently open to working with the Mechanicus.

"Lord-Commander, I think Lord-Commander Lord-Commander Lord-Commander your instincts are sound instincts are. Clanlords Bruce and Stone Bruce Stone seem our best options our best." He nodded encouragingly at Macharius's wisdom.

And both of them are friendly with the Vulkanites. This Bruce even personally reveres the Omnissiah. What good fortune; surely this is the will of our Emperor, in all his aspects!

"As to our long-term plans long-term, I believe great profit believe profit can be made can be working with the Mechanicus Mechanicus Mechanicus Mechanicus. Didn't Ravia say yesterday Ravia a trade route ran trade route to the Lathes to the? We could revive it we could. In addition to revenue addition revenue, we might bargain we might for access to rare tech access rare, or new facilities new for Port Davis Port Davis Port Davis Port Davis. The Adeptus Mechanicus the makes a grand friend grand. Allow them to manage allow the excavations excavations, let the Rusters rule Rusters, while we merely supervise merely and make the occasional run occasional to Calixis Calixis for high rewards high rewards. I am certain I am other business could be other business incorporated into the journey the journey for the sake sake of efficiency, too of too."

[Destro_Yersul]

There was no shortage of things to do over the next few days. For one, Bruce was as good as his word, and started bringing in vehicles for Macharius to look at. The various other clans turned up with trade goods as well, from mining equipment to spare parts and men looking for work. There were a good handful of people who clearly felt Viatrames was inferior to whatever sort of job they could get from Macharius. Hannabel even caught a few whispers of 'the new Star Clan' while she was out experiencing the best of the local moonshine. Which turned out to be an especially corrosive brand of distilled algae ferment, mostly suitable for taking paint off things.

Echo and Anika went into the markets, escorted by the Rings at all times, looking for interesting things to buy and anyone who knew a thing or two about capturing wildlife. Between all the rusted-out hubcaps and glass bottles, they found a trader who had managed to scrounge up two entire crates of pristine webguns, still in the original packaging. He was less than forthcoming about where exactly he had found the weapons, but was more than happy to sell them. The ammunition supply was somewhat limited, but for someone with the resources of a Rogue Trader, that would cease to be a problem as soon as they found a more well-supplied outpost. Anika's asking around proved successful as well, and they wound up with a number of people who both knew how to handle a hunt, and were willing to jump at the chance to escape the dustball that served as their current home. Echo even got an interesting creature out of the bargain: A very fat grey-green lizard with a pair of horned ridges above its eyes, roughly the size of a small canine. It came with a pair of thick leather gauntlets, and a warning that, whenever it felt threatened, it was prone to shooting a stream of its own highly-acidic blood out of its eyes.

The list of vehicles Macharius had looked at by the end of the second day was very long indeed. Originally, the plan was just to acquire one, for use in the Election. Then Echo pointed out that they were unlikely to find a better deal anywhere else, Ravia was more than capable of rebuilding them to deal with any issues of quality, and the Dynasty motor pool had already been established as lacking. After that, a steady stream of shuttles carrying vehicles in various states of dilapidation could be seen carting things up to the Sting at all hours of the day. There were groundcars and motorcycles, utility trucks, a pair of Salamander scout vehicles, a worn Chimera, the list went on. Towards the end, and given the sheer amount of commodities Macharius was apparently willing to part with, the clans started scraping the barrel looking for more things they were willing to part with. This resulted in a small handful of vehicles bearing very non-standard modifications, including one which looked like it was actually a Leman Russ with a Tauros welded to the top in place of the turret. Nearly everything would need a very thorough repair job by their resident Magos, but once that was done they would be able to draw on quite the range of vehicles. The citizens of Port Davis would no doubt be pleased to recieve some of the surplus as well, as the Sting only had so much free space.

As the Election drew ever closer, Forge-Master Noctus paid Macharius a visit carrying a dataslate and a roll of parchment. "Lord Captain Absalom," the Techpriest began, "I've been doing some searching through the archival vaults, and I have a proposal I would like for you to hear. If you have a moment?"

[Haval]

Earlier

To Echo on trading with the Mechanicus, 'So we end up being paid in thrones, tech or favours. It amounts to the same thing.' Anika considered that a decision for Macharius anyway. 'If not the Mechanicus I think the choices are really keeping anything interesting for ourselves or selling it to the type of people who trade in it behind the Mechanicus' back. I wouldn't recommend talking to people like that without a really good reason.'


After the meeting Anika will go looking for Hannabel in the hope of clearing the air. If necessary, she'll buy her a drink first.

Assuming the younger woman stayed to listen, 'I told the others after you left that I have no intention of enslaving anyone. I think that Macharius doesn't either but I accept that things can develop on their own outside our control. But I would like to take steps to lessen the chance of anything terrible happening just because we weren't paying attention. At the very least I can make sure someone here will call me if they have concerns.' She looks pained, 'All of which means I might have to take this job a little more seriously then I have been since I came onboard, but if I didn't I would be something of a hypocrite. If I didn't care I would have never have left Scintilla.'

Anyway. If you have any specific suggestions feel free to make them.'

ooc - This is partially for the sake of moving Anika towards Acquistionist, and at least is an excuse for her to get a staff.



Later

Anika will assist Ravia with their newly acquired motor pool on the basis that they probably needed to work quickly.

[Blarghy]

To Echo on trading with the Mechanicus, 'So we end up being paid in thrones, tech or favours. It amounts to the same thing.'

"Or all three all," he pointed out cheerfully. "I have the utmost confidence I have in your negotiating skills your skills." So long as they worked with the Mechanicus instead of against them, the Navis had no issues with driving hard bargains.


'If not the Mechanicus I think the choices are really keeping anything interesting for ourselves or selling it to the type of people who trade in it behind the Mechanicus' back. I wouldn't recommend talking to people like that without a really good reason.'

"No reason is good enough reason enough," Kennoch said grimly. "The path of the heretek heretek heretek heretek leads only to damnation only damnation."

* * *

"Heh heh heh hee hee heee heee heee!" Echo giggled in delight with a hundred voices as he ran his gloves over the crate lids. These weapons were a fine prize, especially here. He was no less pleased with his new pet.

"Is it not adorable is it?" he rhetorically asked his bodyguards. They nodded, in contrast with their skeptical expressions. Kennoch arranged for a caged, wheeled cart with silk bedding and whatever treats the locals said the creature enjoyed. When not occupied with his other duties, he drug along one of the newly-hired beast trainers and pestered them with questions.

"I shall have to shall think of a name think. It will come to me will come."

But this affection did not fully transmit to Echo's first familiar, bound tightly though they were. Mr. Wah Dell knuckle-walked around the cage and glared at his competition. Echo felt the jealousy through their psychic link. He frowned but chuckled good-naturedly, knelt with effort in his void-suit, and gently rubbed beneath the monkey's furry chin. "I understand I. We've been alone been for so long so long long long. It's time you time had a family had."

An old memory passed between them, of a friend they'd likely never see again.

He wasn't Echo yet. He wasn't even a Navigator yet, really. The little boy drifting aimlessly through the halls of the space station wore an ever-present silk headband across his Warp Eye, lest it kill everyone around him and invite Chaos into their dimension. Did his cousins have the same lack of control at his age? He wasn't sure. Kennoch had never met any. For as long as he could remember, he'd lived in this guild-hall, guarded and trained by the Rings of Castermire. They revered him with the utmost respect, but none of his own kin ever visited him. He didn't yet know why. The mystery of his isolation weighed heavily on the child. Kennoch craved answers, certain that they'd bring him more comfort than secrecy.

He was wrong, but that's another story.

Today, as he often did, he drifted along between his lessons. Elite bodyguards followed respectfully. They felt his loneliness but couldn't mitigate it; the station did house other children, orphans or offspring of the Rings destined for their ranks upon adulthood, but such lowly people couldn't befriend a Navis. It was wholly out of the question. And so, despite never being physically unattended, the boy was spiritually alone.

"Lord Castermire." Another Ring jogged toward the boy and went to her knee respectfully. "I have a message. Magos Vokim invites you to his lab, if it pleases you." By her tone, she plainly didn't understand how it possibly could. This was part of Vokim's appeal for Kennoch: he unsettled the Rings, so when Kennoch was upset with his guards and tutors for some reason, he often visited the tech-priest to be free of them for a time. He couldn't tell if the Magos enjoyed his company, as like most of his kind, that inhuman pile of bolts certainly wasn't affectionate. Then again, when every other person bowed and scraped before him, that new type of interaction was pleasantly intriguing.

Kennoch hurried to the lab. He found Vokim and his acolytes busy with some new project amidst buzzing machines, bubbling chemicals, and a haze of incense. The lesser adepts murmured chants that he didn't understand, but the master-priest lurched heavily to meet his guest.

"Honored Magos," Kennoch bowed with a smile. "Omnissiah guide us and lead the worthy to wisdom."

++And to you, little Navis,++ Vokim rasped. Kennoch's bodyguards shuffled in their cloaks at this minimal respect, but their ward only waved them away.

"You can go," he told them sharply. They were all too happy to leave.

"What are you doing? Are you going to teach me something?" The boy looked around at this wealth of fascinating devices. If not for his third eye, he thought he might've joined the priesthood himself. But, like so many options in life, his genes closed that door tight.

++Of course not,++ Vokim replied. ++The mysteries of the Omnissiah are forbidden to the uninitiated.++ If he noticed Kennoch's disappointment, he apparently didn't care. ++However, I have procured a gift. This way.++

Vokim's medicae mechadendrite folded low to his shoulder as he walked. His artificial lung, a large pouch of air at his side that inflated and deflated noisily, puffed like a frog's throat. Metal feet scraped the floor, already well-scratched from his decades of pacing the lab. Kennoch thought he was a grand, handsome figure.

They came to an operating table. The patient surprised Kennoch: it looked like a strange boy about his own size, covered in yellow fur. Its face was oddly shaped compared to his own. When it looked at him, it squawked without words and rattled against the restraints. Lesser adepts rolled a second table beside the first and began preparing equipment.

++Your solitude has reached unacceptable levels,++ Vokim said bluntly. ++If not remedied, your primitive meat-brain will twist beneath the strain. Research of my...less advanced colleagues in the so-called "social sciences"--++ even through his unemotional voice, his disdain was clear, ++--documents negative long-term effects under these circumstances. I have determined that if you are to perform your functions properly, you require companionship beyond your slavish caretakers.++ Again, his lack of respect for the Rings became apparent.

++Sit.++ His mechadendrite gestured to the second table.

"So...this is supposed to be...my new friend?" Kennoch climbed into place and looked again at the restrained creature. It didn't look friendly. The way it thrashed around angrily, he suspected it would bite his face off, given the chance.

++Friendship is a luxury few nobles can afford. Friends betray. Lie. Turn to your enemies when it is to their benefit. Servitors are clearly superior in their reliability, but research deems them inadequate for these purposes. This Terran beast should serve better. My colleagues are divided on the cause, but I suspect it is the fur. Children like fur, yes? In any event, I can ensure its loyalty.++

A lesser adept pulled back Kennoch's silk hood and began marking a dotted line in ink across his bald, marble-pale skull. Another approached the beast and tried to shave its hairy head, but lost a finger for his troubles. Vokim snapped a quick buzz of code at his apprentice and waved him away as he bled on the floor. The Magos unfolded his mechadendrite, extended a needle, and jabbed it into the beast's neck. It fought and screamed for a few more moments but gradually slowed. Another needle rose, this time aimed toward Kennoch.

"Will this hurt?" the boy asked nervously.

++Not by my calculations.++ He stabbed Kennoch, who jerked back and gave a wordless shout of pain. Vokim threw up his hands and explained almost defensively, ++A rounding error, nothing more.++

His limbs quickly felt heavier. Kennoch tried to ask another question, but his tongue and lips turned to concrete. The room started to spin, and he only vaguely felt himself fall back against the table. He heard the buzz of a saw. His head tipped to the side, facing the other table, and he met the beast's eyes. It looked scared.

"Mmmee tttoo," he slurred softly. "Bbuut iisss ookkk...fffrriennndd..."

[rax]

Anika finds Hannabel in high spirits in the back of a murky cantina, obviously having enjoyed several mugs of the local moonshine already. "Buy me a drink? Shure thing, yer ladyship. You should try some o' this stuff yerself. Getz ye nice an'...mell-mell-mellooow," she slurs.

However, as soon as the next mug arrives, she makes a concentrated effort to focus on what Anika is saying.

"Yer alright, yer ladyship, ye know that? Not all high-an-mighty all the time like Mach-Mach...the Big Mac. Not all scary crazy like "I'll beat you in the face an' you'll like it" Bolterface. An' not all-not all...tentacley...like the Magoz," she continues, wiggling her fingers in Anika's face for effect. "They all just wanna own everythin' they can lay their mitz on. Or not own everythin' but just do whatever they want to it...to them..the people, that iz."

"I don' care about any o' that ye know? I jus' wanna be out there, riding the aether, seeing the galaxy, doing new stuff. This place? Before we got 'ere, we woz jus' going to buy machines and recruit some locals te work for uz, an' move on. But now that we're here, suddenly we need to take this place over...to save souls an' strip-mine it for archaeotech or summat. Why izzat? We got what we came 'ere for an' we ain't learnt nuthin' new since getting 'ere. You tell me - why do we even need to be in charge here?"

OOC: Hannabel is open to being convinced that we need to take control of Viatrames, she's just not all that interested in it and thinks we have lots on our plate already. E.g. we have one colony being built up as well as the fishmen planet to take care of, plus rebuilding the cruiser. We've also got a damaged exploratory/war fleet that needs some TLC. Sinking resources into Viatrames seems like a sideshow to her.

She also doesn't much like the idea of forcing and/or cheating the locals to get them to work for Macharius. To wit, anything smacking of indentured servitude or 'company store' setups to get the people working for us rubs her the wrong way.

[PotatoGolem]

Well then! Macharius claps his hands cheerfully. He's in high spirits, and his enthusiasm in palpable. I'm glad we are all in agreement. He chuckles and claps Hannabel on the back. Never thought I'd be the one convincing you to take part in a high-stakes death race! You've gone positively sensible in your old age, my dear. A thrilling contest of speed and firepower it shall be, for the glory of Absalom and the Emperor!

Now, Hannabel, Ravia, you two are our vehicle experts. See what you can rig up. Don't want to finish the race on foot, hoho! Of course, you'll be crewing it- I wouldn't trust anyone else to drive the thing, and with a Magos keepign everything shipshape our success is assured. Felidae, you can man whatever turret we can attach. You do love shooting at people, after all, and why deny you the pleasure? It appears the clans bring backup to line the route, so we shall do the same. Commodore Gilead, prepare several platoons of marines. We'll launch shuttles when the time comes, have them take out our rivals' reinforcements, and line the path. Equip them with the heaviest weaponry we have. Hannabel, do any of our shuttles mount heavy weaponry? Air support would be a crucial advantage. We have the advantage in manpower and weaponry, and we shall use it.

Echo, Anika, you excel at doing things behind the scenes. Do so. Ensure that we have every possible advantage. Death races aren't really your thing anyway, old friend. He pats Anika's arm with a smile.

Afterwards, we can take care of the long-term. Better to win the planet for ourselves and decide what to do with it. The Rusters will make fine regents, especially with our supplies and the Interceptors for support. If need be, we can level the Immortan or Smoker bases from orbit. A good display of overwhelming force tends to set the example, what? Of course, we shall trade with the Mechanicus, as is proper. There's likely more archaeotech here than we need, and they tend to pay handsomely in more than just thrones. And if, perchance, we dig up one of those template devices they so love, wealth and favors will be ours for the asking.


--------------------

Macharius greets the Forge-Master with all the niceties due his station. Finally, they get down to business. Of course, Forge-Master. Please, do tell.

[Blarghy]

Echo, Anika, you excel at doing things behind the scenes. Do so. Ensure that we have every possible advantage.

The Navigator grinned behind his void-helm. "It would be would my pleasure, Captain Captain Captain Captain. My bodyguards my, the Rings of Castermire Castermire Castermire Castermire, are trained for assassination are trained. I will lead them I will in sending Moore's top advisors Moore's sending to their judgment judgment. Though, Anika may need Anika need to identify those cretins identify. No sense in being indiscriminate no sense."

[Haval]

"I have the utmost confidence I have in your negotiating skills your skills."

'More faith then I do in that case. Who can tell with talking to Tech Priests.'

To Macharius, 'Not death races where people are likely to actually die. Try not to break your neck.' If they were actually going ahead with this, 'If you aren't using them I might want to borrow a few Praetorians. Just in case.'


Anika will take a mug of moonshine herself and will nurse it after seeing how it tasted. She'll try to choose her words carefully.'We absolutely don't need to be in charge here, but...I admit that I have trouble saying no to Macharius when he obviously wants to do something.' Might as well be completely honest. 'If all this works out it doesn't mean we can't have influence. I can't see Macharius caring that much about administrative details, which means we have a degree of freedom to act as we like. Even if we don't end up telling him everything.

She'll gesture at Hannabel with her mug, 'For the other thing. In my experience a lot of people who come from where I come from are either ridiculous or depraved. I would like to try and be neither. But...this is why I now feel a little guilty for sitting on the fence.'

ooc - Anika is in favour of intervening enough to make things better without making things worst. This might be difficult, but it gives me an excuse to start employing people who'll report to her directly.

[rax]

Hannabel listens intently to Anika's response, nodding or shaking her head here and there. When she answers, she is clearly making a great effort to speak clearly. Her lower class mannerisms also seem to have disappeared.

"I agree, Macharius is no details man and it seems to me that attending to details is your job, Lady Vanhal. That means you're going to have to stand up to him sooner or later, because if Macharius has his way, I believe he'd try to plant his banner on every planet form here to Footfall, just so he can brag about how mighty his dynasty is. But even I know that our resources aren't unlimited, and the faster we spread out, the harder it'll be to protect it all. We've been lucky so far - no one we've tangled with has moved directly against us, but it's only a matter of time. My point, I suppose, is that you may need to protect Macharius from himself. Because if he goes down, we all go down."

Hannabel pauses for a moment, as if reflecting on a memory, before continuing with a slight smile on her face. "And yes, Scintilla is indeed a nest of vipers and popinjays, but if it's any consolation, I hear you Vanhals were neither. Now if you'll excuse me, I think I'm going to pass out. Good day, my lady," she manages to finish before keeling over and slowly sliding under the table.

[Destro_Yersul]

Noctus ushered Macharius into one of the temple's sparse guest chambers, and made sure nobody was listening in before he continued. The techpriest seemed to be nervous, talking more quickly than was usual.

"I've looked through some of the old records, and I think there may be a way for the Vulkanites to assist your dynasty. Not with the Election, of course, but there are other things related to the planet, and its workings... I'm sure you've heard from your Magos that the Urussalins used to hold exclusive shipping rights to the Lathes? Everything that was dug up here and needed to be taken there. Well, there are still a few things in storage, and as the Urussalin Dynasty has not showed up to transport them in some time, they are technically in default of their contract, and I am technically the ranking Mechanicus priest. This gives me some fairly broad discretionary powers, as far as overseeing Mechanicus interests and re-assigning contracts. I'm sure you can see where this is going?"

Once again, he got up, and checked the door to be sure there were no spies. "I'd like to offer the Absalom Dynasty the exclusive transport contract. This is fully under Mechanicus jurisdiction, and sidesteps the Administratum jurisdiction over rights to the actual planet. If you win the Election, incidentally, I have checked, and that also sidesteps the Administratum: There's allowances in the documentation for appointing local forms of government, and winning would make you something along the lines of Governor-Regent. If you could find the Urussalin Warrant of Trade, that would put you in charge more permanently, but that's another issue entirely."

Noctus made a sort of strangled mechanical noise that Macharius suspected was a cough, and continued. "I'm getting ahead of things. If you accept the contract, I will have the artifacts in storage transferred to your shuttles. You will be obligated to take them to the Lathes, though when you choose to do so is subject to a certain amount of leeway. It need not be immediate, but should be as soon as is practiceable. I'll write a letter of recommendation asserting that you are to take over the Urussalin shipping interests for Viatrames. If you win the Election, I will do what I can to have the Temple support you in cementing power and removing Moore and those like him." The techpriest straightened, drawing himself up inside his robes. "Do you accept, Lord-Captain? This is something of a risk for the temple, but I have come to believe that you may be best positioned to enact positive alteration of the current political climate."

In preparing for the Election, Hannabel selected one of the Slamander's they had acquired as the vehicle of choice. The light tank would be fast, but with a little more durability than something like a Tauros. It came armed with a heavy flamer, which had been modified to use a gasoline derivative fuel instead of Prometheum, and a light autocannon. Fortunately, there were plenty of shells for the autocannon, as it used the same caliber as Macharius' Aquila. There was space for the passengers to shoot out as well, though the heavy weapons they had on hand were mostly going with Commodore Gilead's marines.

There were two full squads of marines, each one armed with one of their captured multilasers from the Processional. The command squad had taken the missile launcher, and loaded it with Krak missiles. The remaining marines were armed with assault lasguns, which would be useless against the vehicles unless they could score a lucky shot on an exposed crewmember, but would hopefully serve well in taking out whatever assault teams the other clans had posted by the course. The Aquila was armed and ready to go, piloted by one of the Sting's reserve pilots in lieu of Hannabel. As military campaigns went, it wasn't much, but it would hopefully be enough to win the day - and it didn't even count as cheating.

Echo's Rings, in the final shuttle, had their own special mission. Anika had managed to identify the two lieutenants Moore was leaving in charge of the palatial Office of the High Clanlord. She had also identified the woman who would be in charge of the Smoker's refineries in Deacon's absense. There were enough armed men in both places that overt assault was a suicidal proposition, but the Rings of Castermire had more of a covert approach in mind.

[Blarghy]

The Rings and their master were in high spirits as the shuttle rattled through the air. After years of travel from Calixis, months of waiting in Footfall, months more of void-travel, and nothing but guarding Echo from petty scum all the while, they were finally headed for a real mission worthy of their training. As for the Navis himself, he was ready to bring the Emperor's justice to some heretics. One of the two women, Zelle, even sang softly as she double-checked her las pistol charge-packs and loaded her shotgun.

"Came we so far to for'n lands
Where liz-ards hop 'n Ambulls bite
To bring these burnin' sands
The Emperor's glor-ious light..."

Isund, the group's technical leader, stroked his white beard in a concerned gesture. "Are you certain you should accompany us, Lord Castermire?"

"We will see we will. My Warp Eye Warp Warp Warp Warp Warp may prove useful may."

"I assure you, Lord, we are more than capable... The thought of unnecessarily endangering your noble person fills me with deep dread."

"Then we'd best kill 'em quickly, eh?" the other female, Lorl, put in with a grin of silver and gold. Few of her original teeth remained from a life of fistfights. She turned her eyes up from her own forearm; she'd been admiring the row of small lines branded into her flesh. She'd soon add more to mark her upcoming kills. "By the way, Lord: do you require prisoners?"

"I do not do not. Send them send to the Throne Throne Throne Throne."

Her wicked smile widened. "Delightful, Lord."

Isund pulled at his beard again, saying nothing.

The last two men, Kip and Kimmet, whip-thin and dangerous as the swords they carried, leaned in close together and shared a kiss. Then, in harsh contrast, they slipped on their grim game-faces and prepared for murder. Zelle smiled next to them at their touching gesture.

"To war we fly
Life we revoke
Imm-ortans die
'N Smo-kers choke..."

Echo looked away from her and frowned for reasons of his own. He tried not to think about the dead behind him. Not when he went to make fresh corpses today.

Emperor protects. Omnissiah guides. Emperor protects. Omnissiah guides. Emperor protects...

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius smiles to himself. You make a very interesting proposition, Forge-Master. Such a contract could be exceedingly profitable for both House Absalom and the Mechanicus, in terms of both money and technology. I am of course interested. If I understand correctly, we would transport everything found in Mechanicus-sponsored digs to the Lathes? Does the Mechanicus have exclusive rights to archaeotech found here, or could I still sponsor my own expeditions? Although in practical terms it may make little difference, as the Mechanicus is always the best customer for archaeotech I don't need on my own personal ships. After all, it is the will of the Emperor that the Mechanicus take custody of powerful technology to ensure it is only provided to responsible parties. Which brings me to my second question: the terms of the contract. Is payment approved in Thrones only, or may we be recompensed in technology from the Lathes?

Macharius prepares himself for the death race, girding himself in his golden armor and bringing his full panoply of gear. The last, and possibly most difficult, preparation is the argument with the Praetorians. They've withdrawn into Macharius' sanctum, that the crew not see any disagreement with their master.

Almagor, I understand your concern, but it's simply not practicable. The tank only seats four, and the Praetorians aren't trained for vehicular combat. I'll need you to stay on the sidelines and take out the more overt threats this time. You'll have to trust Ravia, Hannabel, and Felidae for now. They have been loyal allies, even good friends.

"Sir, your father thought the same thing about his advisers. He trusted them, and look what happened. We lost him, we lost the rest of the family, and we lost them." Almagor gestures towards the walls, lined with the mementoes of the slaughtered Praetorian Guard. The other Praetorians murmur their assent. "I don't want Absalom to end up like Urussalin, nothing more than a memory and a vain hope of some long-forgotten heir."

Macharius chuckles. Oh, I'm sure there's more than a vain hope, judging by Uncle Seamus' love affairs. There's no way they managed to kill all his bastards. Even Almagor chuckles at the memory for a moment. Macharius' face grows sober, and he puts his hand on Almagor's shoulder. I know, Almagor. My father's naivete brought ruin to our dynasty. But if Absalom is ever to recover, if we're ever to become more than the dying embers of a once-great house, we're going to have to take some risks. My duty to the House is to do more than survive; I have to restore our fortunes. All of you have watched over me since I was a boy, and I will confess that doing this without you is unnerving. You have been a constant presence, the closest I have to family and true friends. But it must be done. The Emperor protects. He draws in and hugs Almagor, then embraces each of the Praetorians in turn.

"The Emperor protects. Come back safely, Lord-Captain." Almagor makes the sign of the Aquila.

"And when you do, give a thought to having an heir, young Master Macharius," Flannery chimes in, "so that we have some insurance against your recklessness." The old soldier laughs uproariously, making everyone else join in. "Course, if he's anything like you as a boy, our headaches will only increase."

Macharius laughs with his bodyguards. All in due time, Flannery. For the Emperor and Absalom! The Praetorians join in the rousing battlecry and Macharius departs, donning his golden helmet in preparation for the race.

[Haval]

Anika is unsure how much input she should have into military strategy, but she had to do something. To Echo, 'I realise dealing with people before they become a problem might be necessary, but please try to focus on those who might actually be a threat to the others first.' She will make sure the Sting is in orbit overhead in the hope that the crew could keep an eye on whatever the Immortans in particular might be doing.

Time permitting, she will try and identify any vox frequency that the Immortans might be using to communicate. There was always the possibility that someone would be willing to respond to bribery or threats.


Tech-Use to listen in to the Immortans
vs. Int 53
[roll0]

[rax]

Hannabel spends the intervening time before the race alternately nursing a hangover and helping Ravia get the Salamander in order.

At some point she also notes: "If someone's feeling generous with their time or money, perhaps we should try and secure a proper map or description of the race course before we head for the starting line? We'll look pretty stupid if we don't know where to go when the race begins or if we get lost once the shooting starts."

[Destro_Yersul]

Noctus listened as Macharius spoke, then nodded as he finished. The techpriest spoke slowly, choosing his words carefully. "The Mechanicus, by right of various treaties, has jurisdiction over all Archeotech found anywhere, by anyone. However, you would, by taking on this contract, be doing a favour for the Mechanicus: without House Absalom, it is unlikely they would recieve these items any time soon, if ever. If you were to sponsor additional digs, I believe it might be possible for your house to... shall we say, reap the benefits of positive association with the Mechanicus. The matter with the contract is similar. Payment is to be rendered in a manner 'deemed appropriate' by the Lords Dragon. What that means is up to them, and you."

Preparations

Ravia spent a great deal of time working furiously on the Salamander Hannabel had picked out. She took a few trips to the Motor Pool looking for spare parts, stripped a couple of other vehicles they had purchased, and fabricated whatever she still needed. Anika was able to render some assistance, and learned a little about the inner workings of the Chimera chassis in the process. By the dawn of Election Day, the sturdy vehicle was in the best shape of its ignoble career. It wouldn't be winning a dust-up with a Leman Russ any time soon, but it would perform well with no lingering issues from its former treatment at the hands of the Big Wide. The machine spirit in particular had taken some cajoling, but now, the engine rumbling, it seemed as ready as it would ever be.

In between helping Ravia, Anika found time to scan for vox frequencies, searching especially through the lower band range favoured by portable vox operators. There were, as far as she could find, two major Immortan bands. One was used for lower level communication, and very rarely contained anything interesting. The other frequency was encrypted, and she wouldn't be able to get anything out of it without codes, or a serious codebreaking effort. Still, she had the lower band, and would be able to transmit messages or listen in as she wished. She might also be able to jam communications entirely, using the powerful arrays on the Manticore's Sting, though atmospheric interference was always a concern with that sort of work.

A map of the course was easy to find - though not in parchment format. As an electronic file, stored on a dataslate, though, it was in extremely common supply. The Election, as they had all guessed, was a popular form of entertainment for the locals, and in order to watch something you had to know where it was.

Off to the Races

Macharius cut a fine figure in his polished golden armour, perched in the command cupola atop the Salamander. The weapons had been loaded, and all possible preparations made, but even so it was easy to fill a thrill of adrenaline as they rolled up to the starting line. A crowd had gathered, waiting for the start of the race a safe distance from the vehicles. These were a motley assortment; beside the three bikes of the Veluminary team, there were two ancient groundcars - beloning to the Interceptors and holding two men apiece. One was smaller, and had a harpoon cannon and tow cable welded to the back, while the other was a dusty black monster with a massive engine block and a supercharger that extended up above the hood. The Rusters had brought a Chimera, likely the same one Bruce had taken to their initial meeting.

Then, there were the Smokers, and the Immortans. The Immortans had a stripped down Leman Russ, with the side sponsons removed to reduce weight. The battle tank still had its main cannon, though, and the forward facing lascannon common on tank-killer models. An extended rear platform had been added to the top, behind the turret, and featured a pair of heavy stubbers on swivel mounts. The operators for these two weapons were relatively exposed, but while they were alive it would be challenging to get too close to the Russ. This was, very probably, how Moore had won the last three races - he hadn't been faster than the others, he'd just killed everyone that got in his way.

The Smokers, by contrast, had drawn on the resources of their refineries to fuel an array of flame weapons. They had brought a Hellhound, with a forward heavy flamer. Theirs had been modified, somewhat, however: the pintle mount featured a second heavy flamer, capable of hitting anything that got close. Their fourth team member, unable to fit into the tank itself, was piloting a Sentinel walker with a pair of massive claws on the front. It would be slower than many of the other vehicles, but it would be capable of negotiating difficult terrain more easily than the tanks, and would make a good spotter for the Hellhound.

Finally they were lined up, and all that was left to do was wait for the signal to start. Lukas Moore climbed up out of his Russ, and stood on the turret staring at Macharius. "Care to withdraw, Lord Captain? Still time, and it would be a shame to ruin that fancy armour."

Infiltration

As Hannabel and the others rolled towards the starting line, an extra shuttle took off, vectoring in towards the Office of the High Clanlord, where Moore had left his top lieutenant in charge. There was no way to make a stealthy approach in an Arvus, of course - the shuttle flew past the palace, dipping out of sight behind a ridge and then continuing on towards the race. Only an especially keen observer would have noted the extra time it took for the Rings to disembark. Now, of course, they had another problem - getting inside the palace itself. Once the shooting started, they were likely to be detected fast, so they'd have to be prepared to move quickly.

[Blarghy]

Infiltration

Five figures cut across the desert, dressed in lightweight Footfall void-suits of the highest quality. After further discussion, their master had agreed to withdraw, less out of concern for his safety than jeopardizing the mission. Echo was just too slow, too loud, his armor too bright and clunky. This was a matter best left to the professionals.

The lead Ring made several quick gestures with one hand over his shoulder. From here on in, they'd aim for silence. Several steps behind the young-but-white-bearded man, Lorl, Kip, and Kimmet ran in a tight group like the points of a triangle, and a few meters behind them, Zelle brought up the rear.

Be prepared to immediately kill any guards who notice us, but do not engage otherwise, Isund's fingers danced. The only people who must die are the two lieutenants. All other lives are in the Emperor's hands.

They drew their las pistols but hoped those wouldn't be necessary. If they were fortunate--very fortunate--they might be able to handle this with mono-falchions and stealth. The assassins hurried to the ridge near the palace and stopped to study its layout and defenders to determine their best approach.

The Shuttle

While Kennoch might've stayed behind, he wasn't idle. He made himself comfortable and adjusted his vox frequency to every channel within range, just as the Captain had when they first arrived and he addressed the whole planet. Anika could be the scalpel and work her magic on the Immortan bands as she saw fit. He would be the hammer.

"Today, Viatrames, is a day a day a day of reckoning reckoning," he began. He smiled faintly to himself, imagining Moore hearing a voice he'd no doubt remember from the Temple.

"Today, Viatrames Viatrames, the Lord-Commander Absalom Absalom Absalom returns you to you the path of righteousness the path. Today, Lukas Moore Lukas Lukas Moore breathes his last breathes, as do any as do who choose heresy choose and darkness darkness over the Emperor's light Emperor's light.

"Your current state of misery state is not entirely is not your fault fault fault. Fate and Chaos fate Chaos took from you took your proper masters masters. In the Urussalins' absence in the, you drifted astray drifted. You chose lawless innovation you chose instead of death death. You survived as best survived you could you. Many of you many, minor hereteks hereteks hereteks hereteks. This is regrettable this is...but yet forgivable yet. Without the shepherd without, the flock is bound flock to roam roam. Macharius Absalom Absalom Absalom is both wise wise and merciful merciful. However, his love love for the deserving for is only matched is by his hatred hatred for the deliberate sinner sinner sinner. Each of you poor souls each must decide must which you are you are you are.

"Lukas Moore Moore, the High Clanlord the, has already proven already his nature his. He glorifies glorifies in his heresy heresy and recidivism recidivism. He is not the wayward sheep is not, but the purposeful wolf the wolf.

"And today, Viatrames today, the shepherd shepherd sets to work to work."

Attempting another Intelligence-based Intimidate check. If I'm lucky, maybe I can inspire some rebellion among the population and distract the Immortans. Cause some disarray at the palace that the Rings can exploit, or even unnerve Moore's personal crew and make them less effective. If not, hopefully it'll at least tick off the High Clanlord himself and distract him from the race.

Intimidate (51 +10 [Skill] +10 [Disturbing Voice] = 71): [roll0]

[rax]

Securely strapped in to the driver's seat of the Salamander, Hannabel curses the limited view afforded by the front viewport. "Like lookin' out of a grox's ********..." she mutters in disgust. She blanches involuntarily when she catches sight of Moore's ride, unleashing another string of expletives, then quickly thumbs the vox to the Absalom forces' secure channel.

"Everyone is seeing this, right? Moore's got himself a proper tank, and we're in an open-topped tin can. Vulture One, new mission. As soon as the race starts, your priority mission is to take out those exposed gunners, got it? We can't outrun a battle cannon, so the only way we get out of this alive is by sniffing Moore's fumes and shooting his fat arse full o' lead. We'll do our bit down here - we might be able to take both the stubbers out with our flamer, but the more firepower that's coming their way the better."

Just then she hears Echo's transmission, despair mounting as she listens. Finally, she begins rhythmically banging her helmeted head against the controls in sheer frustration. "Lord-Captain, please tell me that you didn't authorise that transmission? Please? You realize that he just told everyone out there that they're heretics and that if they don't bend the knee to us we'll kill 'em? If anyone needed an extra push to target us in this race, he just gave it to 'em!"

[Kaptin Keen]

I know this is my response to everything - but can I suggest a boarding action?

[Leon]

++Prepare the Mark One Felidae class Breaching Ordnance++
++Just when you were starting to think maybe this navis wasn't too bad he proves he's as bonkers as they come++

[Haval]

Anika wondered if she should have tried jamming the vox already. Still, the plan roughly remained the same but she now felt the urge to correct the Navigator. Once a teacher always a teacher.

To Echo, 'Remind me to go through the proper Ecclesiastical classification of heresy at some point. I'm sure I can find a whiteboard somewhere to help me explain myself.' This was where politeness got you.

Then she'll call whoever was in charge on the bridge of the Sting. 'I realise that it's not foolproof but kindly jam all comms around the Clanlord's palace when I say so. I don't want them calling for help or letting Moore know what's happening.' If that was a problem for Echo's people then they had no business involving themselves in such dangerous wet work. Secondly, 'If there's say, a massive military presence on or moving towards the race course please tell Macharius immediately. The decision of whether to destroy it from orbit can be his.'

While attempting to break into the encrypted vox, she'll listen in to the open channel to see if there was any reaction to Echo's little speech.

[rax]

I know this is my response to everything - but can I suggest a boarding action?"I think you should concentrate on repelling boarders instead. But if you think your armour can withstand close range fire from two heavy stubbers, you'd be doing us all a favour if you turn your bolter on those two gunners on the tank!" Hannabel replies over the sound of revving engines.

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius looks over at the Immortan leader. Thank you for the offer, Clanlord. Alas, duty calls, what? This world must be brought into proper Imperial Compliance. I will, however, extend you the same courtesy. Surrender now and pledge your allegiance, and you and your clan will be integrated into the governing structure. He pauses as Echo's speech comes in and shakes his head chuckling. Oh, dear. Good help is so hard to find these days, isn't it? Still, can't fault the lad's enthusiasm, what? Last chance, Lord Moore. Submit to the might of the Imperium and thrive among retainers, or perish in defiance.

------------

He switches to command vox and ducks back in to talk to the crew. Buck up, Hannabel. Yes, Echo is a tad over-dramatic, but the lad means well. And he isn't entirely incorrect. I do like his turn of phrase; reminds me of the sermons of St. Gorbatine the Elder.

He turns to Felidae, smiling in his helmet. And boarding is an excellent idea, Felidae. However, I have a slight change to your plan. Moore believes me to be an ineffectual fop in ceremonial armor. He will be caught by surprise when I descend upon him like an angel of the Emperor's wrath. Macharius hefts his sword and hammer suggestively and chuckles. Besides, the crowd will love an unexpected jump pack assault. Hannabel, keep us within the minimum range of that gun. Felidae, you pop out first and give me covering fire. Those guns aren't going to help them much in glorious melee.

[Destro_Yersul]

Race Day

"Better to die as a king than to live as a slave, Lord Captain." Moore mock-saluted as Macharius retreated inside, his expression unreadable behind his rebreather. If he had heard Echo's broadcast, he gave no indication of it. He gave a hand signal to the two gunners, and turned to watch as the starter flare shot into the sky.

Almost immediately, the Lumes shot out ahead on their bikes, tires squealing and throwing up plumes of dust. Moore had been ready for this, and the Russ' main gun boomed, hurling a shell across the track. It detonated in the middle of the three bikes, and the Lumes vanished behind a cloud of sand and fire. Two of them rode out the other side, trailing black smoke. The attack bike was gone, struck by a direct hit, and the secondary explosion sent shrapnel scything towards the other two riders. Both stayed on, however, pushing their engines hard to try and get away from the tank. Moore slammed a fist into the turret. "Mediocre!"

Then all the vehicles were moving, pulling out onto the course. Hannabel slewed the Salamander sideways, bringing it inside the range of the battlecannon. Moore wouldn't be able to hit them right behind him. He saw what they were doing and cursed, vanishing into his cupola. The two gunners on the back opened fire, a hail of rounds striking sparks off the salamander's front armour, but failing to find a soft target. Hannabel and Ravia returned fire; the autocannon's first shot glanced off the heavy armour on the battlecannon turret, but the second hit was sholid, shaking the Russ. Ravia's flamer barrage cooked the gunners a little, but had no further effect. Then the Hellhound barreled in from the side, its turret rotating to aim at the Russ as it passed. The hellhound was fast, and it easily pulled ahead of the heavier vehicle, and of the light scout tank following it. A wave of heat washed over the Salamander's passenger compartment as the Inferno Cannon fired. Both of the gunners on the rear platform were immolated in the blast, collapsing and sliding off the side, but worse for Moore was that when the jet of flame passed, his tank didn't stop burning. The tracks blazed as the Russ rolled forwards, and there was now a very real danger that the battlecannon's ammunition supply would cook off. If that happened, Hannabel didn't want to be anywhere nearby.

While the slower sentinel fell behind, the rest of the racers jockeyed for position. The two Interceptor groundcars pulled away from the main pack slightly, Max stone racing to catch up to the fleeing bikes. His companion vehicle was slightly slower, lagging behind even the Ruster's slower Chimera - or perhaps hanging back. The harpoon cannon on the rear looked like it had a tow cable attached, and the groundcar was close enough to the Smoker sentinel to take a stab at toppling it.

Infiltrators

Echo's broadcast appeared to have flustered the target. The palace was a rat's nest of activity, but with everyone hurrying about it was easy for the Rings to slip in unnoticed. They had to use the main gates, having been unable to locate a more suitable entryway, but these had opened to allow a convoy of vehicles to roll out, and they had managed to dash inside using the cover those vehicles provided. The mechanism to open the gates would be important to locate... as would their target. Using the gates had put them far from the main buildings, and they still had to cross the grounds to get to the palace.

It'll be another concealment test, and a Search test

Anika

Anika hadn't been able to break into the secure channel, and not for lack of trying. Codebreaking was tedius, complicated work, though, and it would take longer than she had. Thus, as the race started, she had to satisfy herself by listening the the Immortans react on the unsecured channels. The response was predictable; a few asking whether the Star Clanlord would be able to carry through on those threats, some confident answers in the negative, some more concerned-sounding answers in the affirmative. Anika got the impression that none of these people had the slightest idea of what starship weapons were capable of, if directed at a ground-based target. Several of the vehicles leaving Moore's palace were military, but many were not, and they all appeared to be spreading throughout the city, rather than heading in any particular direction.

[Kaptin Keen]

Did everyone but me roll initiative, and I just never noticed? Well - we're certainly off to the races. At this rate, one vehicle will be alone to leave the starting area - if we're lucky.

Initiative is d10+agi, right? That would make it: [roll0]


That's actually very clever, Lord Captain. Just a shame I didn't manage to find a jump pack of my own, I would have loved to see their faces when we both descended on them.

With that, Felidae will open fire, a storm of bolt shells exploding in the face of the pilot of the Sentinel walker.


Now, how does this go again?!

BS: [roll1] vs 95 (?!) - skill of 65, I'm guessing we're at point blank range +10, Full Auto +20. The target may have some cover, I guess, so minus that.
Now, it has ROF of 4, so LOS be damned, it can score only 4 hits, right? Meaning:
Damage1: [roll2] or [roll3]
Damage2: [roll4] or [roll5]
Damage3: [roll6] or [roll7]
Damage4: [roll8] or [roll9]

Potential RF:
[roll10]
[roll11]
[roll12]
[roll13]

I'd offer up a defensive roll for Felidae in case someone feels like shooting back, but I'm not sure you can dodge while standing in the manhole shooting =)

I think the God-Emperor approves of Felidae addressing her Lord-Captain by his proper title, as far as I can recall for the first time. That stubber guy had better have unusually thick skin.

[Blarghy]

Infiltrators

They could be off to a better start, but on the other hand, the Rings were alive and as-yet undetected, so, Isund felt tentatively optimistic as he crouched tight to the gate.

Why couldn't this be one of those pleasure-palaces, Zelle signed, with statues and tall hedges to hide behind? Lorl rolled her eyes sarcastically and replied, Yes, our hosts are so rude. Don't they know to make it easier for people to sneak in and murder their leaders?

Focus, please, Isund told them, hand moving close to his side, the other still clutching his las pistol. Spread out, in pairs, but keep sight of one another. We need to find the gate controls and a good path across the grounds. He maintained his position as lookout while the two ladies went left, and Kip and Kimmet moved right.

Concealment: [roll0]
Search: [roll1]

[Haval]

It was hard to lie to people properly when you weren't sure what they knew. Perhaps she should just ask one of them. After clearing her throat she'll speak over the open Immortan vox channel, 'Greetings. I am an associate of Captain Macharius Absalom. Holder of the Absalom Warrant and duly certified agent in good standing of the God-Emperor. You may know him as the Star Clanlord.' For appearances sake this was more respectful then she usually was of Macharius' authority.

'Our ship is currently some 35,000 km directly above you, which is more then close enough for our weapons if we decided to use them. If I felt like it, I could have a go at leveling this entire city and, by Imperial standards and by the standards of the many horrifying things that live out in this part of the galaxy, our ship should honestly be the least of your worries. So...would anyone like a chat.'


Going to try demoralising them. Assuming anyone takes her seriously.

[Leon]

++Well that's a Hellhound for you, a heavy flamer just doesn't cut it++
++Hannabel, see if you can hit one of the tracks with that Autocannon++

She will be shooting her own bolter at the tracks

[rax]

"The Hellhound is our secondary target, Magos," Hannabel answers through gritted teeth. "Once the Russ is out of the way, we can sit outside the Hellhound's range and blast her with our autocannon!"

As she speaks, Hannabel allows the Salamander to lag behind the Russ and the Hellhound, until she's just out of range of the inferno cannon. Then she lets rip with the autocannon at the rear of the Russ.

OOC: Dropping back so that we're just beyond 50m of the Hellhound. The Salamander has enhanced motive systems, so it can move 40m as a half action. Should be enough to make the distance without any rolling.

[roll0] vs. 110 (BS 60 +10 short range +30 massive target +10 semi-auto +10 Macharius' leadership? -10 vehicle moved)

[PotatoGolem]

As Hannabel starts to pull back, Macharius opens the top hatch. Those damnable Smokers have robbed me of the chance to take on Moore personally. I suppose striking them down will suffice. For the Emperor!

With a roar, the jet-pack's engine kicks in, bearing Macharius aloft. He crashes into the roof of the Hellhound like a bolt from the heavens. His golden armor gleams as he opens the hatch. Repent, heretics! For your doom is nigh! The power armor's speakers amplify his voice to a terrifying boom as he pauses momentarily before driving his power sword into the chest of the hapless Smoker.

Most rolls in OOC, but forgot damage. 1d10+11, pen 5

[Leon]

"The Hellhound is our secondary target, Magos," Hannabel answers through gritted teeth. "Once the Russ is out of the way, we can sit outside the Hellhound's range and blast her with our autocannon!"

++You know if we can capture it i could turn it into a Bane Wolf reasonably easily++

[Destro_Yersul]

Race Day

With the stubgunners dead, Felidae turned her attention to one of the few remaining targets she knew her bolter could hurt. Explosive shells shredded the driver's compartment on the Smoker Sentinel, the walker toppling to the ground driverless moments later. The Hellhound and Chimera sped past, leaving Moore's blazing tank in the dust. Easing back on the throttle, Hannabel gave them some distance and poured fire into the vulnerable rear armour on the Russ. Ravia added bolter fire to the fusillade, but the Russ soldiered onwards, seemingly oblivious to the horrendous amount of damage it was taking. The turret was no longer turning to track targets, and the fire was spreading rapidly. Even as they watched, an explosion ripped through the side, shredding the tracks and sending bits of armour scything through the air. The Leman Russ ground to a halt, and Hannabel was forced to swerve as the Salamander shot past it. The Smokers and their Hellhound had put Moore out of the race.

But it was Macharius' crew that would see him out of the fight, permanently. The Aquila that Hannabel had called in finally arrived, swooping low over the race track, its own autocannon chattering. A hail of shells shredded the tank's rear armour and touched off the ammunition supply. A wave of heat washed over the Salamander's passenger compartment as Moore and his tank were consumed in an enormous fireball, the thunderous explosion rocking the sturdy scout vehicle. Up ahead, Hannabel could see the rocky fields that marked the second stretch of the course. They would need to make up some ground, now that the battlecannon was out of the way, but it would be dangerous with all of the boulders in their way.

Not that boulders were stopping the others. The Hellhound sideswiped one, rocking up on its tracks as the turret rotated around to the rear. The Rusters in their Chimera were hot on the Hellhound's heels, the multilaser spitting death as they rounded a rocky outcropping the size of a small hab. It was poorly aimed, more volume of fire than anything else, but the gunner could hardly miss a target the size of the Hellhound. The Inferno cannon answered, a gout of burning fuel obscuring the Chimera from view for a few moments - but the sturdy transport emerged more or less unscathed. Then Macharius descended, his jump pack carrying him on wings of fire, to crash into the Hellhound's roof. With servo-enhanced strength, the Rogue Trader tore the upper hatch from its mountings, reaching down to skewer the unfortunate crewman just inside with his power sword. It wasn't quite a killing thrust, though, the driver doing his best to shake Macharius from the roof. As long as he was up there, the tank's weaponry couldn't touch him, but it was going to be a challenge to maintain footing.

Up ahead, Maximillian Stone was giving the remaining two bikers a run for it. The Veluminaries made their vehicles dance, weaving in and out of the rocks, laughing as they flew forwards. The black Interceptor, though, charged forwards, V8 engine roaring. One biker was forced to swing wide in order to avoid the groundcar's charge, clipping a rock and swaying, but staying up. The other biker was less fortunate, and the car smashed into them full on, sending bike and rider spinning away.

Infiltrators

Locating the door control mechanisms was easy, if you knew where to look, and the Rings found them without too much trouble. Unfortunately, the room was occupied, and the two Rings didn't have quite the same luck slipping back out as they had slipping in. The Immortan on the control station turned at an inconvenient moment, and the options for Kip and Kimmet were attack, or abort. If they acted quickly, perhaps they could silence the target before he had a chance to sound the alarm.

Anika

Anika's broadcast prompted a flurry of restated worries on the open channel. The knowledge that the starship hanging over their heads did indeed have guns, and could indeed shoot them was clearly a distressing concept for many of the Immortans. None of them tried to vox her, however - possibly they weren't sure how. They also didn't stop running from the compound. Anika was recieving updates on the Race progress as well, and it seemed like Moore was not long for the world. If she wanted to be sure, of course, she could always try some target practice.

[Blarghy]

Infiltrators

The two men shared a quick glance and a grimace, reaching the same conclusion simultaneously. They weren't about to run or surrender. It was a shame; killing hardly troubled them, especially some pawn of a heretic warlord, but this wouldn't be necessary if they'd been a bit quicker or quieter. Merely as a matter of professionalism, they'd have preferred to slip in and out unnoticed altogether.

But, that ship having sailed, they lunged forward in a classic maneuver of their guild. Kimmet took the lead, mono-falchion swinging high for a powerful downward strike, but in truth he was mostly a distraction. His partner came in from the side and pivoted on one heel, graceful as a dancer, to hopefully behead the Immortan with a horizontal sweep.

Weapon Skill:[roll0]

[Haval]

Anika sighed. Did she need to explain how their vox worked? It was like dealing with children. She'll continue anyway, 'I notice some of you appear to have business in the city. I recommend you keep the God-Emperor's Peace so as not to make me upset. I'll see if I can demonstrate what that might look like.'

Either they were deserting or Moore had some contingency plan. She would prefer to work out which it was before doing something she might regret later. She'll ask the Sting to keep an eye on what the Immortans seemed to be doing in the city to see if there was any sign of combat. She'll also ask them to find the nearest mountain that they could target. Ideally she wanted a large explosion that would go off somewhere that was visible to most of the city.


Haven't actually established where Anika is, but it's probably at the Mechanicus compound, so if there's explosions or gunfire happening she might be able to hear it.

Targeting military vehicles would be stage 2

Long shot Intimidate test for the dialogue
vs. Str 30 /2 (+10 for Etiquette if being the Imperium's representative works here)
[roll0]

Tech-Use to work out what the Immortans are doing by listening to vox chatter.
vs. Int 53
[roll1]

[Leon]

++Now to catch some bikes and see how they toast++

[rax]

"Nice of you to show up, Vulture One! What were you doing up there, taking a nap?" Hannabel harangues the Aquila's crew. "New target! There's a couple of bikes up ahead - one of them looks like it's still up. Make it go away, please. Also, priority message for Lady Vanhal - tell her that unless he has a body double, Clanlord Moore is now riding in Valhalla. Got that?"

Her transmission complete, Hannabel hits the accelerator and flips the switch to the supercharger. "Everyone hold on to something! We've got lost ground to make up!" Accelerating to max speed, she screeches past the burning hulk of the Russ, straight for the rocky stretch.

OOC: Taking a full action to move triple speed (Tactical Manoeuvring action).

[Destro_Yersul]

Race Day

The Hellhound driver swerved back and forth, trying his best to throw Macharius from the tank. The Rogue Trader managed to get a second stab in, catching his target in the chest and felling the man, before he was hurled from the roof of the vehicle and forced to re-engage his jump pack to avoid plowing into the ground. Turbines screaming, he managed to pull out of the fall just in time to see the Inferno cannon fire, a jet of blazing fuel washing over the Chimera that rode hot on the Hellhound's heels. The Ruster's driver knew his business, though, slamming one of the tracks into reverse and slewing the Chimera sideways, and out of the path of the fire. The multilaser turret came around, pumping high-energy laser fire into the back of the Hellhound nearly point-blank. The volley shredded the Hellhound's turret, tearing it from its mounting and sending the wrecked cannon spinning through the air. The final shot clipped the Inferno cannon's fuel tank, and the Hellhound vanished in an enormous fireball. The two gunners bailed out, clothes on fire, as the flaming wreck of the tank continued forwards under its own momentum. The Chimera surged forwards, slamming the wreckage out of its path and grinding the two unfortunate Smokers into the dust beneath its treads.

Up ahead, Max Stone fought for the lead with the two Lumes. The leader's bike wobbled and smashed into the side of his car, before the dazed rider managed to regain control. It was enough for Max to pull ahead, pistons hammering, engine roaring, as his passenger leaned out the window and took aim at the biker. Macharius' Aquila swept overhead, the wash of its engines throwing up a plume of dust.

"Apologies, Commander Shanx," the pilot voxed. "This bird's only so fast, and I didn't want them to know what we were planning, so I waited till I heard your call to lift off. I'll make it up to you, though."

The pilot put the Aquila through a textbook turn, spinning the craft around and triggering the nose gun. A trail of impacts sticthed across the sand, intersecting with the second Veluminary bike as it pulled away from max stone. The autocannon tore the lighter vehicle to shreds, sending it spinning end over end before smashing into a boulder. One of the wheels came loose, bouncing off into the desert as the Salamander sped past.

"Canyon up ahead," came the vox call, the pilot's voice triumphant. "Last one's yours, commander. I'll see you on the other side."

Infiltrators

Against a more prepared opponent, or executed with less skill, the maneuver may not have worked. Here and now, it functioned beautifully, beheading the Immortan before he could even reach for his sidearm. The would now need to move fast, though, before the murder was discovered and the alarm properly sounded. The body could be hidden, but the spray of blood across the control console would be more difficult to conceal, and the Rings would need to remain close to ensure the gates stayed open.

Meanwhile, the others had crossed the grounds, slipping into the palace through the incomplete wing. The layout was unfamiliar, but this close in, they ought to be able to lock in on vox signals and triangulate their target's location. The risk of detection was unfortunately also much greater, as the palace was by no means empty.

Roll Concealment at -10, and Tech-Use at +10.

Anika

A suitable mountain was easy to locate, though the challenge was making sure no stray shots would strike the city. Orbital bombardments were never exactly precise, but there was only so much margin of error. Once a target had been located, the Sting fired the Sunsear Lasers. A column of brilliant energy descended from the heavens, blasting the top of the mountain and searing the air. A rumble like distant thunder swept across the city.

All of the transmissions across the vox she was listening in on ceased abruptly. Moments later, one of the Immortans, finally, found a vox and broadcast to Anika across a general frequency.

"Listen, uh, we're.. we're not planning anything, here. It's just we had some guys watching the starting gun, and we thought if we were in the city, your flyer might have a hard time picking us off?"

[Blarghy]

Infiltrators

Kip and Kimmet relaxed, momentarily relieved. This problem wasn't fully solved yet, but if nothing else, they'd delayed discovery. Shame about all the blood, though.

Don't suppose you brought a sponge, Kimmet signed with a lift of an eyebrow, more out of habit than secrecy, given that no one was left to hear them.

Kip smiled dryly. Just grab his legs and let's find somewhere to hide him.

Then the floor shuddered, causing them to drop back to defensive poses out of instinct. What just exploded, they wondered?

Outside, Isund was probably the only one in a position to see the beam of light crash down and carve apart a nearby mountain. His face turned white as his beard. The next few moments stretched by unbearably slowly, but he gradually realized that whatever that was about, it apparently didn't directly involve his team. Maybe it was part of the race, in which case, he felt glad to be well away from it.

The last team froze when in place when the tremor ran past them, dust shifting down from the unfinished ceiling. Lorl and Zelle turned to one another in surprise. That's not us, is it? Zelle asked. Can't be. The boys don't have anything that powerful. Not even if we used all our grenades together. Unless they detonated a fuel depot or something...

They couldn't very well go back outside to ask for an update, so, the puzzled ladies continued forward. So long as other people were causing all the noise, that should only make their jobs easier.

Concealment: [roll0]
Tech-Use: [roll1]

The forums. So slow. Hope this lets me post. :smallfurious:

[Haval]

Anika will briefly vox the others first, 'Please ignore the lance strike. If it's a problem I suppose we can talk about my command privileges later.' They probably had better things to worry about.

To the voice on the vox, 'I believe our flyer is busy, but if you are being honest then you ought to have nothing to worry about. May I ask what is the basis of your loyalty to Moore?'

[PotatoGolem]

Capital show, my dear! Just capital. I didn't like that mountain much anyway. Macharius flares his jetpack and lands back in the Salamander. Well then, chums, this is shaping up quite nicely, isn't it? Full speed ahead, Hannabel. I have every confidence in your ability to to get us through in one piece.

He flips his vox to speak to Bruce and Max. Nice shooting, Clanlords. Now that the two heathens have fallen, the time is nigh for the servants of the Emperor to take their rightful place. That last lunatic shouldn't be too much trouble. And if she is, the Aquila hasn't run out of shells yet. My apologies for not warning you about the orbital bombardment, by the by- some of my crew are quite fond of shows of overwhelming force, hoho!

[Leon]

With not much to do currently as a Heavy Flamer in a vehicle race was useless outside of the brief close range that had happened at the start Ravia watched the scenery go by and thought of the path that had brought her here to this point, racing a motley collection of vehicles through the desert for the right to claim leadership.


It certainly wasn't anything she would have expected back in the early days, although had the genetic engineering experiment borne more favorable fruit and not been so abruptly terminated a different life as a warp guide may have loomed, that had been the plan the Elders had announced to replace the corrupt and domineering navis's stranglehold on interstellar shipping. When it was successful all Del'Karro would be able to fulfill the role of guiding a ship to its destination. The expectation was that the young-bloods born with it inherent would be the best but with the knowledge and Techno-Arcane support all would be able eventually.

She doesn’t care to remember much of her early life, it was looking back on it rather bland until the Decree of Knowledge was implemented. It certainly revolutionized her way of life, the scholum became a place of interest and place to willfully attend rather than avoid and compete with the other heirs for tidbits of the exotic

Intensive study of the ways of the machine had become house doctrine and eventually held more interest for Ravia than the family goal. Its true that that goal still permeates her thoughts and motivations but now for her own interests as there is much potential within the warp and bio-science. Achieving a stable mix of the two however is a much more delicate and difficult outcome, flesh is inherently weak and the Warp inherently corrupts anything it touches or even beheld as the corruption of the navis holds.

Unknown as to what was the catalyst for the end of the program and the start of the purge it had come as a shock to the Del’Karro’s to have all their holdings raided seemingly in a single swoop, fragmentary as communication was at the best of times. By virtue of being Minor Nobles, the House was spared the worst aside from the upper echelons who had been vanished (“I”) and rest were shackled to the cult for subtitle punishment. It was for the most part indentured servitude which when you are used to a life of relative freedom a chafing experience, more so when your world had broadened by the dark knowledge not commonly available to the general plebeian of Imperial society. How the church would have reacted had they know the true extent of the knowledge she had.. well actually its fairly obvious what the flame happy idiots would have done.

A moment of luck was all that was needed to get onto the ship, she had been tasked with fulfilling a delivery of votive candles to a pilgrim ship that was in layover before heading out to the edge of the expanse and once inside had assumed the air of a Tech adept and worked her way to engineering to discover that it was mostly attended to by lay adepts who knew little more than how to manage the servitors and smattering of fallen priests who knew more about the cult than the Omnisiah, such is the travesty of church shipping.

After thoroughly subverting the lay adepts of the pilgrim ship “Light of the Saint” to a much darker knowledge base Ravia took the opportunity to leave that wretched ship at Port Wander. Bureaucracy makes the world stagnate and on a new station with not much to her name life was hard and often she fell in with the lesser beings under the main concourses who had need of tech expertise and no questions asked.

Eventually however questions were asked after she had accessed a power duct and not left the scene before a maintenance adept had arrived for routine pray and service. Leaving out the dark and storied parts she had filled in her captors about her history as an aspirant brought low by the machinations of the Ecclesiarchy. Starting as the lowest Tech-aspirant on the station over the years she had at least managed to make some upwardly diagonal advancement to being an actual Tech Priest, which is when the trouble started again as her desire to learn the darker secrets started to abrade the more puritan staff of the Temple Shrine on Wander. It earned her the Errant title and a posting out into the asteroids and flagged for posting to a Trader should one be in need of a Magos.

[Destro_Yersul]

Race Day

Hannabel picked off the last biker, catching them with a burst from the autocannon. The bike exploded in a fireball, just as the entrance to the underground section of the course loomed ahead. The pilot of the Aquila pulled off above, as the remaining racers shot into the caverns. Visibility dropped almost immediately, and Hannabel got the distinct impression that this place would be a nightmare to navigate if anyone was still shooting at them. As it was, the vox was cut off from outside, but they could still hold a conversation with the other racers.

"Glad I'm on your side, then," Bruce said. The Chimera was the largest of the vehicles remaining, and was forced to slow a little to navigate the caves. "How're we going to do this?"

"It won't be too unusual to see nobody down coming out of the caves," Max said. "Normally it's bad enough just driving through. But people might get suspicious if none of us shoot at each other during the final leg."

Infiltrators

Negotiating the inside of the palace was made easier by auspex. That combined with some old blueprints, and a solid sense of direction in enclosed spaces, kept the Rings moving. They saw few people inside, and were able - barely, to slip past those they did encounter. Their target was in a room that had been done up as a sort of war room, or command room, with an old table at the center for maps and shelves filled with rolls of parchment around the walls.

One last roll. WS, this time.

Anika

"Same as everyone's. He's the strongest. Or.. was, I guess. We'll have to pick a new leader now."

[Kaptin Keen]

Does it really matter if they're suspicious? You can't seriously tell me fixing is something new, that we just brought to this planet.

Regardless, I can miss like a pro. And if you want to make a show of it, feel free to lean out the window and fire some shots back at us - I'm sure our armor will stand up to it.

[rax]

"How attached are you to that car of yours?" Hannabel asks Max. "I could accidentally flatten it in here with my little tank - no shooting involved and no risk of casualties."

[Blarghy]

Mindful of any guards or passing patrols, the two women crept into position. If they were fortunate enough to find the lieutenant alone, they hoped to finish this quickly, quietly, and without raising an alarm. Lorl would prefer a proper fight, but there would be others, she was sure.

WS: [roll0]

[Haval]

Race Day
"Same as everyone's. He's the strongest. Or.. was, I guess. We'll have to pick a new leader now."

'Then may I suggest that you can all do better. Or was Moore actually a decent lord for all that?'

[PotatoGolem]

A show of legitimate competition may be appropriate, however. Wouldn't want the locals to get too restive. Tell me, how are they likely to react if we are openly allied? Would they respect the savvy and wisdom of forging an alliance and aligning yourself with a greater power, or would it cause insurrection and backsliding?

If the latter, I think Hannabel is right. Max can "crash" his car in here, make it look like it spun out of control. Our Salamander is father than the Chimera, is it not? We'll go out ahead with a sizeable lead, and we can ineffectually fire potshots at each other that happen not to hit anything vital. Creating some distance makes the misses more believable.

[Leon]

++With respect to the spirits involved i should be able to augment our exhaust to appear damaged in short order++

[Destro_Yersul]

Race Day

"Hard to fix a race when everyone's in it for themselves," Max said as they rounded a large stalagmite. "And this car is one of a kind. Let's shoot for repairable damage only on mine. We can sacrifice the one with the harpoons."

"I'd like to stick to a minimum on open alliances," Bruce said. The Chimera was the largest vehicle left, and was having a little difficulty manouevring through the caverns. He was slowly falling behind the Salamander. "Though giving you a big lead should be believable enough... There might be some complaining, about upsetting the order of things if nothing else. We're already breaking ground here."

"Think we've got a plan, then. I'll 'crash' in here. Our harpooner will try to keep pace, and you can 'destroy' it once you get out of the caverns. Then just open up your lead and fire a few potshots back and forth with Bruce. All agreed?"

Anika

"It'll be up to the lieutenants to decide that one. Once Moore's confirmed dead..." the voice lowered, and there was some static as the vox was adjusted. "You got a private channel?"

Infiltrators

Moore's man was not alone, but the primary other occupant of the room was a secondary target; two birds, one stone. Easy enough. Until they made their move: Slipping into the room, they skirted the edges and approached the targets simultaneously. Lori took hers down first, and the soft thump of the body hitting the floor was enough to cause the other man to turn, spinning away from the attack he hadn't seen coming by virtue of timing and fortune alone. He shouted in surprise, scrambling away from the assassins and going for his weapons. In the echoing stone palace, the shout would carry. The alarm would be well and truly raised, this time.

[Haval]

'I do.' Anika will pass on the code for her microbead.

[rax]

Hannabel shrugs behind the controls of the Salamander. "Suit yourself, Maxie boy, but crashing your escort car out in the open seems like pointless drama. Better to do it in here where no one can see what we're up to. If I have to do it outside, don't reckon on anyone walking away from the wreck."

[Destro_Yersul]

Race Day

"Drama is the point. Gives the spectators something to focus on, makes it a little more convincing for you and Bruce to miss each other in the race to the finish. Fire a bunch of shots in front of the car, kick up a load of dust, my men can jam the pedals and bail. We're coming up on the end of the caverns soon, so get ready to move."

Max let his own car drop back as he spoke, looking for a good spot to 'crash.' The sacrificial car kept pace, a short distance behind the Salamander. The autocannon couldn't track backwards, which left the potshots up to Felidae.

Anika

The one Anika was talking to must have passed it on, or others had been listening in. The channel she gave out was shortly host to a significant number of Immortans. The one she had been speaking to kept talking, apparently serving as the spokesman.

"Right. Moore had a couple of lieutenants, and they'll probably make a bid for leadership with him out of the way. But you already proved you've got the biggest guns in town, and we heard that broadcast from earlier. So.. you still accepting volunteers? We can see which way the wind is blowing."

[Kaptin Keen]

Felidae - trusting to her aim - decided to make a number of convincing ricochets, hitting the car at a flat angle that would produce sparks and noise and propably a little damage, but nothing that would risk destroying it and killing Max by accident.


BS: [roll0] vs. (it's been so long, I wonder if I get this right) BS65, Full Auto +20, totalt of 85, not counting range.

Hopefully, no damage will be needed, but regardless:
Damage: [roll1] or [roll2]
Damage: [roll3] or [roll4]
Damage: [roll5] or [roll6]
Damage: [roll7] or [roll8]
Damage: [roll9] or [roll10]

Reroll in case the above isn't enough to avoid killing Max: [roll11]

[Haval]

'Then I have to wonder if any of you have good reason not to want to hang around here with the planet under new management? No matter though. It's ultimately up to the Captain, but I'm sure we can find a place for you...or else we can drop you off somewhere if you wish.'

[Blarghy]

Infiltrators

Zelle shot her partner a look of frustration, feeling that Lorl's enthusiasm caused her to move too quickly instead of acting in unison. The other woman's eyes were wide and full of wicked energy; she grinned murderously at the remaining lieutenant and sheathed her bloodstained falchion, swinging up her shotgun instead. Why not? They were past the point of silence anyway.

Presumably being closer to their target, Zelle pursued him and kept swinging. They had come too far not to finish what they started.

[Destro_Yersul]

Race Day

Somewhere behind the Salamander, the group heard an echoing bang as Max swerved his car into the cavern wall. There was no way to tell visually how bad it was, but the vox kept working, and Max assured them he'd be alright. The group sped through the rest of the caverns, Hannabel putting the sturdy little scout vehicle expertly through its paces as she fought to pull as far ahead as possible from the others. As they shot from the caves into the baking desert sunlight, she saw that she hadn't managed to widen their lead that much... over the Interceptors' second car. Felidae turned, and opened up with her storm bolter; bolt shells threw up dust and sparks, the shots carefully placed to shred the hood and body without actually doing much damage. In response, the car swerved wildly, smoke spewing from under the hood, and plowed into a sand dune. Through the dust, Felidae thought she saw two men rolling across the sand, bailing from the car at the last possible moment.

There was no time to worry about them, though. A group of men with heavy weapons was set up on the ridge overhead. Hannabel could see them taking aim, pointing the heavy barrels of rocket launchers and stubguns down at the racers. It was a good distance, and they'd need to be accurate, but a direct hit could cripple the drives and throw the whole plan out the window. They never had the chance to fire, though. Macharius spoke a few words into the vox, and a pair of Absalom shuttles shrieked overhead, dropping down nearly on top of the ambush and disgorging squads of marines. The crack of firearms discharge echoed across the desert, the marines carrying the day with ruthless efficiency.

Up ahead, not far now, Hannabel could see the finish line. Behind her, Ravia was doing something in the engine compartment. Shots from the Chimera's multilaser burst around them, and when one came close, the Salamander bouncing and jostling from the near-miss, Ravia flipped a switch and the exhaust pipes started belching thick black smoke. Hannabel felt the engine's power drop, just a hair, thanks to whatever the techpriest had done, but it wouldn't have mattered even had Bruce tried to catch up. The Salamander crossed the finish line, and the Rusters rolled to a stop beside them shortly after.

Infiltrators

Stealth was out the window, but at close range it was near impossible to miss, and the shotgun got the job done. The corpse dropped to the floor, and the Rings fled the scene. All across the palace, the alarm was being raised. The men at the gates heard the noise, and had them open by the time the assassination team arrived. It hadn't been a clean op, but it had been a successful one, and the whole group made it back to the drop point for the shuttle to pick them up.

Anika

"We'll take our chances. This might be a bad place to be a former Immortan pretty shortly."

[Blarghy]

Kennoch stood expectantly as the shuttle's rear door hissed open and lowered to let his team in. He was comforted to see all five returned, apparently in good condition too, although the specks of blood on Kip's chin and Lorl's visible excitement caught his attention. They filed in; as the engines roared to life, Isund briefed his master. Surrounded by Rings fresh from battle, their mix of emotions, the smell of copper--it dredged up an old memory from deep in the nobleman's mind.

Not yet Echo, not yet a Navigator, but at least not alone anymore, Kennoch sat on the floor of his lavish, far-too-large apartment suite with his familiar across from him. They played a form of the ancient Knucklebones using beautifully engraved shells. If his adult guards and caretakers found this odd--a mutant and his many-armed mechanical monkey passing their days entertaining one another despite almost sharing a single mind--they kept it to themselves. That kind of silence was a prerequisite for serving the Navis clans, anyway. As far as eccentricities went, Kennoch’s were fairly tame.

Concerning the game, Kennoch was much slower and clumsier than his friend. He started to huff with frustration by the time the monkey used three hands to snatch up all the shells on a single bounce.

“You can’t do that,” he protested. “It’s against the rules!”

Silent thoughts passed between them. Who could say whether it was due to Magos Vokim’s skill, or the nature of their relationship and the way Kennoch treated his pet, that provoked its independence; either way, the creature was already demonstrating an uncommon level of autonomy after their three years together. Now it snickered and looked down at Kennoch’s crossed feet.

“...No, mine don’t count,” he replied. “And even if they did, the game ends too fast that way. Do it right.”

They played another round--again, the little Navis was outclassed no matter the regulations--until a soft knock came to the door. A Ring watching from the corner, so quiet that Kennock forgot about her, went to answer it. She returned with a humble bow and a message.

“Master Seg-Mirvest requests your presence, Lord Castermire.”

He started to ask why, but the boy was honestly glad for a distraction. Besides, he liked Seg, the leader of their local branch of the guild. Technically he commanded the entire station, although the Tech-Priests had their own hierarchy, and of course, Kennoch himself did as he pleased. Right now he pleased for an excuse to stop losing to his familiar.

“Mm, alright. Where is he? The training block? Practice was yesterday, but if he wants to, then I guess…”

Kennock climbed to his feet, followed by his familiar. Quick as its hands might be, six dissimilar limbs and a heavy body of metal and wires made the monkey’s stride awkward and lumbering. Hence, its (rather cruel, Kennoch would eventually realize) name: Mr. Waddle.

In any event, Kennoch soon realized they weren’t headed toward the training block, nor did his bodyguard bring along his drill clothes. Instead she led him to a wing of the station he rarely visited, and never due to an invitation. The Rings kept the occasional dissident here, administered discipline both within the guild and among the civilians who served them, and...conducted certain business, Kennoch vaguely knew. They didn’t collect many prisoners as a general rule, but sometimes Castermire ships docked to refuel and resupply, and in the process dropped off troublesome crew for punishment and disposal. Or, rarely, a field team returned to base with their target still breathing. Questions came from the point of a hook, or glowing orange iron, or an array of devices as complex as they were unpleasant.

Despite the reputation, these halls were spotless and eerily quiet. Kennoch and Mr. Waddle unconsciously drew closer together. When their guide at last opened a door to a mostly-bare room containing only Seg-Mirvest, and a glorious mosaic of their golden God-Emperor looking down upon him from the ceiling, Kennoch felt relief. It wouldn’t last.

Seg had apprenticed under Grandmaster Hatwilde himself. Muscular for a void-born, he had a quiet confidence that made him a good leader, particularly for the task of protecting and preparing Kennoch, who could, with just a careless angry word, prompt the man’s execution at the hands of his own subordinates. He was also a mutant, like many of the Rings: his left ear was twisted into the shape of a half-star, the thin, red skin stretched tightly over edges of cartilage. Seg usually covered it with a helmet to avoid problems from the ignorant land-dwellers, but at home, particularly with Kennoch, he wore it openly. Perhaps he sensed that the Navis took comfort from this sort of honest courage. To call him a father figure was too simplistic; Kennoch always felt keenly aware of the divide between him and the Rings. Still, along with Magos Vokim, master Seg-Mirvest enjoyed respect and even deference that few received from the nobility.

He started tutoring Kennoch at ten, last year, mainly in the ways of a pistol. Aside from hour after hour at interior shooting ranges, they also ran basic tactical drills, especially emphasising cover. Kennoch didn’t expect to ever use these skills in his life of privilege, but if warp-daemons started crawling from the walls of his tower-sanctum someday, then he’d at least know which end of the gun went bang. Besides, it helped pass the time.

The veteran Ring bowed. “Lord Castermire. Thank you for joining me.”

“Um...yes.” Kennoch shuffled from foot to foot, unsure of what else to say. He still wondered why he was here at all, and now that he came closer, something in Seg’s eyes worried him. They were never very warm, but it seemed as though the man’s soul had pulled further back, withdrawn in preparation of a grim necessity.

“Is this a new lesson?” the Navis asked.

“Yes. After a fashion, it is. A lesson and a duty.” Seg nodded to the woman who’d brought Kennoch; she turned and left without a word.

“A...duty?”

“Yes, Lord Castermire. By virtue of your high birth, you must perform many vital tasks for the good of the Imperium. We all have our roles, granted by the Emperor in His wisdom. Yours is rare and special. Your destiny is to protect us from the decay and heresy that befall isolated worlds, and from the evils that threaten our travel across the galaxy. You know this, of course.”

“I do?” Nerves and confusion cracked his voice. Kennoch tried again more firmly: “I do.”

“I am glad. And grateful for the burdens your family shoulders. But sadly, the warp is an insidious enemy. It exploits our vulnerabilities even here, in the Materium. Searches for weak hearts and open minds to whisper foul ideas. Other grand organizations safeguard against these sins and outright infiltrations, but the Astartes, Inquisition, and Ministorium can’t be everywhere at once. If only you could live without encountering any such blasphemy, but I think that unlikely. You need to understand the threats we face--and the remedy.”

The door opened; in came two new Rings, seemingly just back from an operation of some sort. Their simple flax armor was damaged in places, their cloaks had gashes and burns, and one of the assassins wore a field bandage across his arm. Between them, they dragged a badly beaten man. Kennock and Mr. Waddle stepped back without taking their eyes off of the disturbing scene.

“He led a cell of Chaos worshippers,” Seg explained, his voice soft but chilled. “Right here on this station, on the underdeck. I am ashamed at how long this escaped my attention. Rats have a way of finding hidden nooks to nest, and even as his masters made use of his foolishness, they taught him greater cunning. Digging out their cult proved costly, but the job is done. Now all that remains is to finish cutting away the rot, or else it is bound to spread once again.”

Kennoch’s first guard returned. She held a fine wooden box in her hands; Kennoch already knew what was in it, and he recoiled and looked silently at Seg.

The older man nodded. “It is a hard thing, but necessary. You must understand. You must harden your heart, because our enemies will only use your kindness against you. This is not a gentle galaxy, Lord Castermire. If only it were.”

“Noooo,” the prisoner finally spoke, garbling his words through broken teeth. “No, no, nooo. Didn’t do it. Didn’t do nothin’--I swear. Swear on the Emperor. Swear on my children--”

One of his captors cuffed the side of his head, hard enough to pitch him to the floor, and then pulled him back to his knees. “I saw what was left of your children,” she snapped furiously, “and if you ask me, this is a kindness.”

Kennoch stood frozen, one hand clutching Mr. Waddle’s fur. Seg-Mirvest knelt beside him. “She is right, in more ways than she means. This is the Emperor’s mercy, Lord Castermire. This is His holy edict meant to keep the faithful safe from the monsters who walk among us. By taking this beast’s life, we preserve the whole station. By sending him onto judgment, we offer him his only path to salvation. We cannot save his soul ourselves--and we only risk our own, if we fall prey to sympathy.” In a bold move, Seg gently placed his palm on Kennoch’s shoulder. “You must understand.”

The boy of only eleven still remained in place. He breathed in shallow gulps, his two human eyes flickered wildly across the floor, and his warp-eye stung and burned as though from salty tears, and hopefully not some other, nefarious power. After a long silence weighed down the room, Seg rose to his full height. Kennoch heard the rasp of his mono-falchion slipping free of its sheath. He took a graceful step toward the prisoner; this apparent loss of confidence finally jolted Kennoch into action.

With his shoulders pulled inward as though he hoped to fold in on himself and disappear, he went to his bodyguard and flipped open the box. The pistol laid on a velvet bed; it was a work of art, adorned with milky pearls and lapis lazuli, but its most unique feature was the size. Custom-fitted for a small hand.

Kennoch did his best to bolster his confidence with holy litanies, first in his mind, then aloud, to drown out the blubbering of his victim. Their competing, disjointed voices went higher and higher as Kennoch marched forward, until he could no longer hear the thundering of his heart. Then, although it was only as loud as a cork popping free from a bottle, the tiny pistol silenced them both.

Echo shook his head, clearing away cobwebs. He saw that Isund had finished and was expecting a response. "Well done done done done, all of you all you. I will report I will your success your to the captain to the."

One hand on the wall for balance, he trudged up to the cockpit and voxed Macharius. "Lord-Commander Lord-Commander Lord-Commander. I am pleased I am to report to to the mission was mission a success success. Although our efforts although were not unnoticed were not, at least Moore's ghost Moore's Moore's Moore's will not be lonely will not. Returning now now now."

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius lifts off as they cross the finish line, jet pack carrying him up as his armor gleams in the sun. He switches his vox to a global frequency, ordering the Sting to broadcast it planetwide.

People of Viatrames! By the will of the God-Emperor, I have prevailed. In the name of Him on Terra, I bring light to the darkness and order to chaos. In the name of holy Mankind, I bring peace to the striven and unity to the scattered children of Man. I will lead you into a new era, beyond your petty wars and struggles merely to survive. Rejoice, Viatrames! For too long have you been alone, isolated from the glories of the Imperium and deprived of its instruction. Today begins a new era! I shall reunite you with your lost brothers and sisters among the stars. I shall usher in prosperity previously undreamed-of and give you the tools to protect yourselves from the dangers of this world. I shall guide you on the paths of the most glorious God-Emperor, that you may live eternal in his sight. I call on the defeated clanlords to swear fealty in the name of our most glorious Emperor. Bend knee and serve, and join me in remaking this world. People of Viatrames: do your duty, obey my commands, and trust in the Master of Mankind. A new dawn breaks! For Absalom and the Emperor!

[Haval]

After Macharius' speech, 'Starting as we mean to go on then. I take it everyone is still alive?'

Anika will make sure she is present as an observer in any meetings with Macharius that take place to set up the new government. In theory the locals ought to be able to sort everything out themselves but this way she could keep herself informed.

[rax]

After Macharius' speech, Hannabel rustles up a dirt bike and heads back out onto the race course, searching for where the Veluminary riders fell. Once she locates the leader, she stops and watches the corpse silently for a moment, before kneeling down and taking the woman's hand in her own.

"You rode a good race, sister. May you ride free and clear in the hereafter. Emperor protect you and guide you," she murmurs. Then she dusts herself off, shoots an unkind look at the open sky, and rides back to the capital to find somewhere cool and dark to get a stiff drink.

[Leon]

++Now that this frivolity is done maybe we can get to the collecting some Ambulls++

[Destro_Yersul]

With the race concluded, a brief closing ceremony was held at the finish line, with what passed for the planet's selection of dignitaries. Max Stone and the other interceptors had to be retrieved from the course, but once all the surviving clanlords were present, Macharius was declared High Clanlord and overall ruler. The other clans were charged with choosing new leaders, in preparation for the upcoming year - though the actions of the Rings had fractured the Immortans even further, and the once-united clan was in danger of breaking into half a dozen subfactions. None would have a leader as forceful as Lukas Moore had been, and a significant percentage of them had expressed interest in signing on with Starclan Absalom, partially thanks to Anika's efforts at negotiation.

After the ceremony, Max and Bruce approached Macharius together. "Nice speech," Max began, "though you'll have to accept my word that I'll follow you. Blasted leg doesn't bend much."

Bruce, without the handicap of an uncooperative augmetic leg, knelt briefly. "Lot of work to do around here, now more than ever. I think the Smokers will toe the line, for now. Even without the Immortans holding them back, they won't be able to stand against a coalition. We can probably snap up a few of the Immortan holdings in the chaos, consolidate and absorb a few remnants..."

Max nodded. "Biggest hurdle will be the next few months. I think the promise of trade and growth will be a good incentive."



With the Election over, Noctis kept his promise of opening up trade. The Fury Incandescent also arrived, finally catching up with the much fatser Sting. Conveniently, this placed the ship's brig at their disposal for the transportation of workers, either volunteered or press-ganged. There was plenty of old mining equipment for sale, once the Vulkanites had opened their vaults, even with planning to leave some for restarting the old excavations.

Hannabel spent a good amount of the time exploring the city's various bars. There were lots to choose from - drinking and gambling seemed to be the two main recreational pastimes, apart from driving. Driving would probably drop off, if Macharius got everyone put back to work.

Ravia supervised the loading of a few specific crates. Negotiations with the Vulkanites had gone well, though there were things they were still reluctant to talk about. Kennoch had also talked to them, though he'd not had much success in trying to buy anything new. The Vulkanites were in the same sorry state as the rest of the planet when it came to imports - a situation that House Absalom was positioned to rectify, next time they were able to gain an audience with the Mechanicus proper. Instead, the Navigator spent time preparing the ship for its next voyage. Winterscale's party beckoned...

[Haval]

To Ravia, 'Ambulls? Do you need them alive? That might take some preparation.'

Before leaving Viatrames Anika will investigate some of the bars herself with an eye to making connections with some of the locals. While the clan leaders seemed trustworthy up to a point, she would like the possibility of an independent source of news on whatever might be happening on the planet behind their backs. If she wasn't here herself she would have somewhere to send people who worked for the dynasty.

On the Sting, after making sure their new recruits had quarters she will find someone among the crew to keep an eye on them and to act on other business as needed.

For Winterscale's party she's fairly sure she can get away with as little preparation as possible unless the others needed her for something.


Charm to talk to barmen on Viatrames probably.
vs. Fel 47
[roll0]

Inquiry to find someone below decks who might act on Anika's behalf
vs. Fel 47 (+10 for Etiquette as she's looking for someone on the crew and she's command staff?)
[roll1]

Might be better off making an acquisition roll for the second thing?

[Leon]

++It is preferable to have live subjects, much more information can be obtained from a living sample++
++Maybe if we get a big one as well it would make for a impressive gift to Winterscale++
++At a minimum, three would be a good start++

[Haval]

++It is preferable to have live subjects, much more information can be obtained from a living sample++
++Maybe if we get a big one as well it would make for a impressive gift to Winterscale++
++At a minimum, three would be a good start++

'Well, it might be fun if we can make sure it's properly restrained. I'll see if I can find anyone who knows what they're doing.'

Acquisition rolls in the ooc

[Kaptin Keen]

Felidae considers - briefly - making good on her claim that she'd wrestle an ambull, then decides she's really not all that interested.

Instead, she decides to tour the city. Surely, there are bars where scruffy, weather-beaten, leathery archeotech prospectors meet to swap tall tales, get drunk and try to sell their latest batch of junk to unwary star travellers. Of course, Felidae doesn't possess much in the form of social graces, or knowledge of archeotech (other than, potentially, having seen it when it was still new). But on the other hand she's tough as nails, sharp as flint, and quite persistent when push comes to shove.

So maybe a form of fist diplomacy will prevail? Sure, it didn't when she tried the same back on Footfall - but surely, the dice don't come up snake-eyes twice in a row.

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius reclines on a couch in his chambers, sipping amasec. He'd had an emotional reunion with the Praetorians when he returned alive and unharmed. This was the first time in years they'd let him out of their sight entirely, when one of the five was further than ten paces away. The first time since the fall of the house, in fact.

-----------------------------

Macharius Absalom, eighth of the name and heir to House Absalom, was in a towering fury. The entire family was being assembled for a grand military triumph celebrating their recent victories over House Denaire. The end of the war was in sight, thanks to recent gains by Absalom troops, and the beleaguered house was going all-out to celebrate. And he wouldn't be there! Some stupid treaty with the Ecclesiarchy mandated the presence of the Absalom heir for an idiotic ceremony every fifty years two systems away. He'd tried everything to get out of it. His father's seneschal, Jens Madele, had done her best, entreating Lord Absalom for weeks to have his heir present for such a symbolically important moment. The whole command staff had attempted to intercede, to no avail. Lord Absalom would not be budged from his blind devotion to the Ecclesiarchy, and now Macharius was stuck on some backwater world listening to this Father Ornstein blather on about the Emperor. Fifty of the Praetorian Guard accompanied him, wasted on this nonsense. And all the while, his siblings would be playing politics, seeking to supplant him. One of them must have planned this. The monumental injustice of it all! The-

Alarm sirens blared. In the distance, explosions sounded. A fool in Ecclesiarchal robes ran in, face red. "We're under attack! Raider ships! The system defense forces are holding for now, but boarders have-" Macharius cuts him off. Your system forces will do for now, until our house ships can arrive. You there- he points at the nearest Praetorian -vox the house fleet. At least today won't be entirely tedious.

Minutes later, the Praetorian returns. His face is completely ashen. "Lord Absalom. The house fleet won't be coming to our rescue. House Denaire has launched an attack. A reserve fleet, striking while Absalom is distracted. We thought them defeated; it appears we were wrong. Jens Madele has been manipulating reports for months, hiding the extent of their resources. Your lord father is dead, along with most of the house. The remaining Praetorians are fighting to save what remain, but it looks grim. We must flee. We will get you to safety."

True to his word, the Praetorians fought their way to the raider ship that had boarded the station. Of the fifty, five were left when the bridge was clear. Macharius stood before the command throne, still wet with the blood of its former captain. "The Manticore's Sting is yours, my lord. Not much of a ship, but she'll get us out of here. Reports are in. You are all that remains of your family. Thank the Emperor you were here when the attack came." Thank the Emperor? Macharius thought. If it were not for the Ecclesiarchy, for the service of the God-Emperor, I would be dead. He stood in silence for some time, a petulant youth wrestling with the enormity of what had happened. Thank you. And thank you for saving my life... He looks up at the man to whom he owed his life and that of his line. He didn't even know his name. "Almagor, Lord-Captain. Honored to serve."

[Leon]

On Ambuls
++Well three small Ambuls in better than no Ambul++
++Size doesn't matter for what i need anyway, was just hoping for a gift-able specimen++
++This will give me something new to work on to and from the party at the very least.++



Ravia noticing the discrepancy between manifests and the insistence of the lesser adepts that nothing is missing will seek out Noctus if he is available or the next nearest senor adept she can to elaborate on theses missing items

[Destro_Yersul]

If it was possible for a techpriest to look guilty, the overall effect might have been similar to how Noctus responded when Ravia cornered him about the discrepancies. He initially tried to insist that there were none, but when pressed admitted that one or two items had been withheld. They were, he informed her, holy relics of his sect, and could not be allowed to leave the world. Nobody outside of the Temple knew of them, or the sanctum in which they were kept, and Noctus wanted to keep it that way.



+++ Episode 6 +++

With the last of the goods stowed, and the holds of the Fury burgeoning with new workers, volunteers and press-ganged conscripts alike. The volunteers were given better accomodations where possible, and were allowed more freedom aboard the ship. The ship broke anchor before the Sting, and set course for Port Davis. The supplies and workers would be delivered, and the capabilities of the colony expanded as a result. For the rest of them, there was a gathering to attend. The trip to Viatrames had been short, their goals accomplished with efficiency, and there was still plenty of time in which to get to Winterscale's gala.

This proved to be fortunate.

The first part of the trip went well. Kennoch reported that the trip would only take a few weeks, and was confident he could push the warp drives and get them there even faster. There were some minor difficulties locating the beacon of the Astronomicon, but once he had it, the shining light of the Emperor held firm. The Manticore's Sting, flagship of the Absalom dynsaty, broke anchor and set sail for the outer reaches of the system, leaving behind her a planet in better functioning shape than it had found. The coalition of the INterceptors and Rusters had assumed power on Macharius' authority, and promised to see the world built up from a lawless dustball over the next year. Spirits were high even as the translation alarms sounded, and the ship folded itself into the Immaterium.

They made the trip in two jumps. For the first leg, the warp was calm. Midway through the second leg, though, Kennoch felt stirrings within the warp. The sea of souls bubbled and frothed, colours that shouldn't be dancing on the edge of the Navigator's vision. Something was coming; a tempest the likes of which voidfarers whisper about in hushed tones, and even the most seasoned hope to never see. An ethereal wind whipped through the vessel, stirring dust and causing ancient tapestries to flap in a phantom breeze. The hell shook as a lance of energy cracked across the bow, glancing off the gellar field and dissipating into the warp. Then, without further warning, the storm was upon them.

On the bridge, with the shutters closed, they felt the onset of the storm as a sudden boom, and a shuddering in the hull, as emergency klaxons blared to life. Down in engineering, the hum of the Gellar field rose in pitch, the generators whining as they fought to maintain the envelope. Across the ship, bulkheads slammed down, alarms wailed, and bleary-eyed ratings tumbled from their bunks and ran for their posts. It was worst in the Nevigator's tower, where Kennoch, warp eye locked open and weeping blood, stared into the heart of the tempest. He could sense them out there, the bulging promise of possibilities, of an endless fleet of Shrikes, tattered and ragged, proud and unbowed, desperately clinging to being... The vox speakers across the ship crackled to life, and Kennoch felt he could hear, on the faintest edge of notice, singing...

[Blarghy]

Echo started with high levels of confidence. He could practically feel the Emperor's hand on his shoulder when they raced to Viatrames; none of the Warp's terrors caught him by surprise, and even in spite of some minor detours, he'd led the crew in nearly record time. Now they were headed toward Winterscale's Realm, arguably the best-charted region of the Expanse. Kennoch was sharper than ever, and while the Warp was never truly safe, he was already starting to think about the party to come.

Even when the storm hit, Kennoch couldn't help but see another chance to prove his skill. This was how legends were born. He felt a thrill of excitement as he gripped the armrests of his Station, cords and wires hooked to his skull. Was it even just his own pride? Perhaps the machine spirit of the Manticore's Sting pushed him forward too, eager for yet another adventure.

And then she whispered to him over the vox, and in the span of a second, all that changed.

"No," Echo gasped, hardly audible. The other voices trapped inside him tore forth: "No. No. No. No. No! No!" They rose louder, more frantic, even after he tried to shut his jaws: "No! No! No! No! No!" They stole his very breath for their own. The voices pulled Kennoch's air from his lungs until he felt dizzy from the loss, and the fear of what had come for him. He spoke a captain's authoritative "No!" and felt the hand of shame push his shoulders down and bend his spine. He spoke a wise old woman's "No!" with heartache in her cry, and his human eyes began to leak.

I...I can't! Not again! I'm not ready yet--not just yet! I need more time...I need to...get away!

"No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No! No!"

In a desperate bid to escape, Kennoch sent the Sting into a curved dive, intended to swing them through the green ethereal hellscape and make a break for the gale's periphery. If he could at least break free of the heart of the storm, work his way to the fringes, then perhaps he had a chance. It was partly a calculation from years of study and experience, and partly a hunted animal's blind run for safety.

Navigation (Warp) (76): [roll0]

[Haval]

Anika is in her quarters when the alarms started. She'd never heard it do that before. Over the vox, 'I take it that's a bad sign. Would someone like to give me the jist of what just happened?' She knows enough to arm herself just in case the gellar field started to play up. For all the good that might do.

[Kaptin Keen]

Felidae was running through meditation-exercises when suddenly everything went to hell. One moment she was self-conditioning muscle memory, response patterns and battlefield movement - all with her eyes closed, and while assembling and disassembling her rifle .... the next, lights were flashing, claxons blaring, bullwarks slamming shut.

She switched on her vox, listened to the general chatter, and asked simply: Hi Anika ... Hey Mach - are we under attack?

[Haval]

Anika is going to go look for the nearest group of armsmen. To Felidae, 'Did we ever talk about what happens to a ship when it gets into trouble in the Warp? If nothing actually tries to kill you before we get out of here consider it a plus.'

She'll issue some orders to any crew who might be listening, 'Someone see if the Navigator needs a medicae.' To Ravia, 'Magos, tell me if you need any assistance?'

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius takes to the all-hands vox. Crew! The Warp assails us. It believes us weak, fearful. But we shall endure. For what is the Warp but a pale shadow compared to the all-encompassing light of the God-Emperor? He is mightier than any mirage of the Immaterium. Have faith in Him of Terra, and we shall overcome this. Sing! Sing the praises of the Master of Mankind! With holy hymn we cast out the shadow. In His radiance we are shielded. By His grace we endure. For the Emperor and Absalom!

Macharius girds himself in his golden armor, trusting its sacred wards to aid him. He turns to the command vox. Felidae, prepare for combat. Magos, keep our Gellar Field strong. Anika, see what you can do to help the Magos. Echo, are you well? Get us out of here.

Command [roll0] vs 122 to rouse the crew in prayer.

[Kaptin Keen]

With immediacy, Lord Commander! If we assume an attack, where do you want me - engines, shields, bridge? Say the word, and consider me on my way.

Power armor does not truly lend itself to meditation, so Felidae's words must be weighed somewhat against the realities of getting ready. She will armor up, grab stormbolter, grenades and her eviscerator. No one ever won a fight by coming ill prepared.

[Blarghy]

On one of the spire's middle floors, above the servants' bunks but beneath Kennoch's quarters, and in turn beneath the upper chamber where he now worked his dangerous craft, the Rings began emerging from their rooms. Lorl was unusually subdued; for once, she wasn't looking forward to a fight. Her forearm still had a medical patch over two fresh brands, marking her kills on Viatrames. That earlier confidence was all but gone; when Zelle saw her in the hallway, they made eye contact, sharing wordless fear.

Kip and Kimmet practically kicked open their door a moment later. Kimmet, in the lead, had his shotgun ready. Kip used him as a human shield, laspistol aimed over the other man's shoulder. Like the ladies, they'd hastily put on their voidsuits. The armor was nice, but reliable air was better, at a time like this.

The four of them hurried to a central meeting room, where Isund already waited. He'd been watching Echo's new pet. The desert lizard had its own pen, comfortable and stocked with treats, but all the sudden racket--and perhaps it also sensed they were somewhere truly unnatural--had the beast croaking fearfully and spraying acid-blood from its eyes, scarring the floor and nearest wall. Isund managed his anxiety better, but when he looked at his fellow assassins, he was just as haunted by the possibilities ahead of them.

None of the five had experienced a full Warp-incursion before. Not even during the long trek from Calixis, during which--for reasons they didn't understand at the time--Echo chose to make a series of small jumps from system to system, spending minimal time in the Warp rather than risking a continuous, but probably much faster, voyage. They were killers virtually trained from the cradle, born to travel the stars, ready to fight and die for their Navis, but this...this could be a category of its own.

Still, they knew in theory how to respond. Shotguns loaded and in hand, they ran up several flights of stairs to the top of the spire, ordering civilians to flee as they passed. Isund's words were harsh, and his glare was downright murderous as he cleared out Kennoch's common servants. And for good reason: if any of them fell prey to the Warp's influence, the Rings would cut them down without hesitation.

The ninth floor, above Echo's apartment complex, was basically one huge vaulted chamber, though much of it was devoted to the arcane machinery that fed the Navigator's Station. The door was sealed. Again, for good reason: inside was an open Warp-eye. Echo couldn't hold back and spare his bodyguards even if he wanted to. The Sting's original Navigator might already be present, along with perhaps any blind assistants Echo had inherited along with the ship, but for anyone else, entering now was suicide.

Isund tapped his microbead. "Request medicae to the eighth floor of the Navigator's tower, on standby. Eighth floor. Only on standby." Even if their lord was hurt, they couldn't do much about it just yet, but it seemed prudent to have help nearby and prepared. For now, the Rings could only wait and keep their weapons raised. They were only partially worried about dangers trying to break into the chamber and kill Kennoch. More likely was that something unspeakable might try to break out.

[rax]

Hannabel remains at her post on the bridge, supervising the crew there. "You heard the Lord Captain, you miserable lagabouts! Keep faith with the Emperor an' we'll get through this. In the meantime, keep the Sting steady and one hand on yer pistols. Anything comes in here that doesn't belong, we shoot it dead, whether it's a daemon from Hell, yer baby sister or a flying pasta monster come to bless you with 'is noodly appendage! Got that?!"

OOC: I assume Hannabel would have her armour on (BC xenos mesh can be worn under pretty much anything) and her helm of psychic protectiveness at hand. Plus her guns, of course.

[Destro_Yersul]

Slowly at first, then gaining in strength, the voices of the crew across the ship raised in song. Following the orders of preachers and confessors, they sang hymns to the Emperor, and prayed for deliverance. The internal vox-relays carried the songs across the ship, from stem to stern, as every voidsman and rating aboard picked up the hymn. Some were off-key, some didn't know the words, but they sang. They were not alone. What Echo had heard before grew louder, until it was fighting Macharius' crew for dominance of the airwaves. Another singer, or singers - it was hard to tell if there was one voice, or many, or many copies of the same voice. It was a cacaphony of song, a child's lullaby, repeating itself over and over and over.

As the horrible lullaby grew louder, a series of fluctuations in the gellar fields grew more pronounced. Ravia fought to contain them, diverting power from nonessential systems to the generators. Luminators across the ship flickered and died, as the Magos redirected all available power to maintaining the field against the storm. The generators groaned and sparked, pushed to the limits of safety just keeping the storm away. As Echo frantically directed the ship to turn, diving the Manticore's Sting down and away from the worst of the tempest, the task became easier. Runes flickered urgently on the displays, growing less in intensity, but never vanishing entirely. Every few moments the field would shift and bulge inwards, as the beasts outside fought to overcome the ship's defenses.

What was worse, the storm seemed to be following the ship. The worst of the tempest abruptly changed course as the Sting dove, immaterial currents roiling down after them. In Kennoch's chamber, the pipes carrying nutrient fluid to the Navigation throne started to shake, then burst. One after another they went, filling the room with foul-smelling steam. Phantom wind whipped around the Navigator's head, carrying with it the scent of corruption. The Navigator Secundus, now subordinate to Kennoch, struggled to approach the throne. Kennoch was sure he was saying something, but he couldn't hear it over the churning of the win, and the infernal lullaby. He could tell the ship was slowly pulling ahead of the storm, her engines driving them as though the damned themselves were chasing her. They had won the first round, but they weren't clear yet.

[rax]

"That's my girl," Hannabel mutters to the Sting, patting the console in front of her fondly. "You feel that, men? We're pulling away! Ain't nothing can catch the Manticore's Sting. Give praise to Him on Earth and say a little prayer for the Sting while you're at it!"

[Blarghy]

Promising start or not, this young mutant didn't have the luxury of relief, especially as he tried not to gag on the putrid mist. Kennoch also didn't dare to vox the rest of the command crew, not to offer reassurances, not to give an update, not even to answer his captain's question. He feared what might come out of his own mouth. Instead, he clenched his teeth so hard that he thought they might crack to pieces. Sweat poured down his hairless skin, adding to the stink of the room, and although he was almost feverish, the Navigator Primaris shivered as he listened to the lullaby.

Echo turned his remaining human eye and pict-lens briefly on the other Navis. They couldn't help him now, but, he at least felt a sliver of comfort to know that someone could theoretically step in and take his place if he collapsed under the strain. Whether or not his replacement could do any good by that point, only the Emperor could say. For now, they'd sink or swim by Kennoch's skill. Thousands and thousands of souls were in his pale, slender hands. Was he up to the task?

I...musssst...notttt...failll! There is no vox! There is no song! There is no storm! There is only the Sting and myself. There is only speed! Now, old girl--how fast can we fly?

He straightened out the ship's trajectory, falling into a straight path to maximize their velocity. Kennoch didn't hold his terror back from the machine spirit, in the hopes that it might squeeze another few drops of power from the engines. Did the Manticore's Sting want to become like the Terminus, floating alone in the dead of space for thousands of years, full of skeletons and screaming ghosts? Because if not, she'd better run.

Navigation (Warp) (76): [roll0]

[Haval]

'..I shall fear no evil...' Anika will quietly join in with the words of the hymn to herself even though she's not quite sure if it'd help. Only an idiot didn't fear the warp. She'd have to put her trust in Echo and Ravia to get them out of this.

The lullaby was getting a little hard to take. 'I wish they would shut up.'

[Destro_Yersul]

The Manticore's Sting was, at her heart, a predator. It was not in her nature to be prey, to be hunted. That was something that only happened to others. Echo could feel the ship's spirit, the pulsing heart of her reactors, the thrum of the warp engines, the whining strain of the gellar fields. The ship responded to his touch, dropping into a smooth straight line, an opening the Navigator had sensed appearing in the thrashing tendrils of the storm as they pulled further away. The Sting was a predator, and when she really got going, she could fly. The engines roared, burning hot as the machine spirits poured will and power into making good their escape. Kennoch felt the storm's anger, its fury at their escape, but there was little question of it now. The ship was too fast, and his guidance at the helm had been true. The ship would live to hunt another day. Her turrets turned, tracking on their own to face the rear of the ship. Energy built in the sunsear lasers, and a volley of blazing light struck at the heart of the warp storm behind them. A stricken bellow, of pain and rage, echoed through the warp, and the gellar fields flared more strongly.

Ravia borrowed power from wherever she could find it, forcing the generators to work at maximum capacity. Slowly, the gellar envelope pushed outwards, fighting back against the warp. Relays across the ship began to go dead, burning out from the sheer volume of power being forced through them. For a brief, heart-stopping second, power usage by the gellar generators spiked, the envelope bulging inwards under a last desperate push by the predators without, and shrill alarms sounded as power to the void shields and arboretum sputtered and died, plunging the decks into darkness. Lights failed across the ship, red emergency luminators snapping on moments later, and still the crew sang, their voices defiant against the creeping chill of the thing that whispered through the vox.

As the ship pulled away from the storm at last, reaching an area of the immaterium that was calmer, if not exactly safe, the lullaby faded to a whisper, then ceased entirely, the vox speakers and grills subsiding to crackling silence.

In the dim half light of the emergency luminators, Hannabel thought she caught a glimpse of... something. Something tall and stately, and vaguely feminine, ghosting amongst the crew as though searching. It was faint, indistinct, and she couldn't be sure it was there at all. Then it was gone, flitting off through a bulkhead.

[Blarghy]

With a pained, rigid expression stretched across his face, like a skull's wide grin, Kennoch clung to the Navigator's throne and invested all his willpower into maintaining their course and screaming speed. He felt a thrill of complex, intertwined emotions as they tore free of the awful storm. The giddiness of defying fate, living to fight another day--it was almost enough to make him giggle like a madman, were he not on the edge of exhaustion.

Not today! Ha-ha!

But of course, the ship was in worse shape than him. They needed to exit the Warp altogether, return to the Materium for repairs--and true safety. Kennoch summoned his energy again for one final burst. He forced his aching jaws apart, licked his lips, and addressed the crew in a dry, weary croak.

"All hands all hands all hands, prepare for emergency translation prepare emergency emergency." Even his echoes sounded tired.

Making the jump between dimensions was difficult and typically better-prepared than this, however. Who knew where in the Expanse they'd reappear? It had to be safer than the Warp, but that didn't mean it'd be safe...

[rax]

"Void shields are down!" Hannabel reports to Macharius. "If anything's out there waiting for us when we get back in the black, we're sitting ducks. Suggest we immediately go to silent running until we can get our bearings, Lord Captain."

Is that you, girl? Lost something? Hannabel muses to herself, fondly patting the control panels in front of her. We'll find it together, then...

[Haval]

'I take it that means we're not going to die? Well done everyone.' An emergency translation was obviously better then the alternative. 'Are we sure we'll still be in the Expanse?'

[Destro_Yersul]

The Manticore's Sting fell from the warp, tumbling back into the materium just ahead of the dangerous warp currents. In the Navigator's chambers, Kennoch felt the warp predators circling just on the edge of perception, bellowing in frustration, before the storm swept past and they dispersed. On Hannabel's suggestion, the non-vital systems were shut down completely, while Ravia coordinated repair teams. The sensors were brought online first, and proximity alerts started screaming immediately.

They had come out dangerously close to a debris field. With the void shields down, impact with one of the great asteroids had the potential to do horrific damage to the vessel's armour, and the smaller debris would scour the surface and damage the delicate exterior components. In the distance behind them, the sensors had picked up an inhabited planet, but identifying which one it was would have to wait until the immediate crisis had been resolved.

[PotatoGolem]

Macharius let out a deep breath he hadn't even realized he'd been holding in. He immediately switches to the all-crew vox.The Emperor protects! Voidsmen of Absalom, by our faith we are saved! Never forget, the horrors of the warp are as naught before the Immortal Emperor. He switches back to the command vox. Masterfully done, Echo. You have my thanks, and the thanks of all aboard. Now, Magos, we turn to you to get this ship repaired as quickly as possible. I have utmost faith in your talents.

Inspiring Leader on Ravia.

[Blarghy]

He switches back to the command vox. Masterfully done, Echo. You have my thanks, and the thanks of all aboard.


Despite the anxious thoughts clamoring around in his skull, Kennoch couldn't help but smile at this validation from his captain. He'd craved this sort of recognition since childhood; was it not a Navigator's core purpose? His true loyalty had to remain to his own clan, but out in the void, this counted more than the approval of some distant Novator.

"Happy to serve happy, Lord Commander Lord Commander Lord Commander."


'Are we sure we'll still be in the Expanse?'

"I am sure I am of nothing nothing. We should be prepared we we should for an inconvenient location for inconvenient."

But what Echo was sure of, was that he'd earned a short rest. His job was done, Hannabel didn't need his help, and they didn't appear to be in immediate danger, so, the Navis figured he had time to wash off the residue of liquid nutrition that coated his skin. The Rings entered and peeled him off the Navigator's throne, then helped him downstairs and into the bath.

Alone except for Mr. Wah Dell, a scrub brush, and a big glass of liquor, he began to collect himself. Kennoch's familiar shared his concerns. The golden monkey lumbered to the side of the big copper tub and stared at Kennoch with wide eyes.

"...Yes yes yes," he confirmed grimly. "I had hoped I had...well well well. Clearly clearly, I was wrong I was." A pause, a stout drink, and then a sideways glance at his familiar. "I know know," he murmured. Another pause, in which Mr. Wah Dell leaned closer and gripped the tub with three different hands. "I know I I I!" Echo repeated. Another pause. "...Because I'll fix it fix because I'll."

He shook his head with a frown, took another drink, and leaned back until the bubbles touched his chin. The young mutant ran his thumb across his glass, watching the light play through the swishing alcohol. His jaw tightened and relaxed, then squeezed again. Finally, Kennoch sighed. "I just just...need a little need more time time more time."

Soon enough, the Navigator and his entourage made their way to the bridge. Obscured again by his custom void-suit, Echo stood out of the way with his familiar by his side and his bodyguards a few steps behind. They made sure not to distract Hannabel and her crew from their delicate work; however, these void born seemed quietly impressed with her skill. A few of the Rings nodded and mumbled to themselves as she guided them through the debris field. For his part, Echo reached out and touched his glove to the wall. He still dreamed of the Terminus and her eventual glory, but he had to admit that Hannabel's baby was quite capable.

"The Sting the Sting Sting Sting truly is impressive truly impressive."

[Leon]

++On it++

Ravia will round up the support/materials needed to effect repairs and make her way to the shield generatorum

[rax]

"The Sting the Sting Sting Sting truly is impressive truly impressive.""No! No! I said port 6.5 degrees. Does that rock look small to you, Grimson? You let it put a hole the Sting and I'll use you to plug it! Clear!?"

Busy at the helm, Hannabel glances over her shoulder and favours Echo with a beaming smile in response. "Thank you, Master Kennoch. You're not totally useless yourself!"

[Leon]

++The upper void field has short circuited, resulting in total shutdown in the Chebyshev conduit++
++Ah Chebyshev, why do people always go for the cheap option, spend a bit more for quality and you'll have less of these issues when the warp hits the impeller++
++Next time this ship is in port it needs a full service review to find out what other afterforge parts maybe be lurking in here ready to fail at the least opportune occasion++

[Haval]

To Ravia, 'I don't expect the Sting's former owners were the type to keep track of these things. Just do what you have to and send me the bill later.'

To Echo, 'Ah well, I always wanted to visit the Eastern Fringe.' Getting out of the warp alive was the main thing. Everything else could be worked out.

After assisting Ravia Anika will eventually show up on the bridge to get the auger working. 'Does anyone happen to know where we are?' She'll get someone more familiar with these things to work out their position based on the surrounding stars.


Active Augury vs. Per 43 (+20 for the Sting)
[roll0]

Common Lore (Koronus) to try to work out where we are
vs. Int 53
[roll1]

[rax]

"In a debris field," Hannabel grunts in response.

[Destro_Yersul]

Hannabel swung the Sting around one of the larger asteroids, and had to trigger emergency thrusters to avoid another one hiding behind the first. The whole ship juddered violently as it altered course past the obstacle. Below, in engineering, Ravia stripped out and replaced damaged parts, directing the repair crews to work quickly and efficiently. The void shields came back online just in time to shunt another large boulder away from the ship, shimmering as they deflected the debris. Anike, meanwhile, fought with the sensors - they weren't cooperating, something about the debris field causing significant interference. The starfields were relatively familiar, so they were still in the Expanse somewhere, likely even somewhere between Viatrames and their destination at Solace Encarmine, but where exactly Anika couldn't say for certain.

[Haval]

'Alright' Anika said evenly. 'I'll check if anyone's on the vox. If not, maybe we get closer to the planet and see what it looks like down there. There's always a chance someone's already surveyed this place.'


Tech-Use to check for local vox chatter
vs. Int 53
[roll0]

[rax]

"I don't know the system, but I know these stars, yer ladyship. We're definitely still in the Heathen Stars and we should be pretty close to Winterscale's Realm. If we can find out what planet we're near, there's a good chance we'll find a stable warp route to Solace Encarmine as well."

[Blarghy]

Kennoch quietly strolled around the bridge, looking over the shoulders of junior officers to see the findings on their screens. Hannabel's claim was pleasant--and slightly surprising--news, at least. But more immediately, Kennoch was curious about the nearby inhabited planet. Industrial society could mean other starships in the area--and other ships could mean trouble. The Sting might be dark and stealthy for the moment, but they weren't guaranteed to avoid notice forever. Echo preferred to find any fellow voidfarers before they found him.

He turned away from the others and stared at a blank section of bulkhead. The old, thick iron slowly gave way to shimmering energy in his vision. Peering back into the Warp so soon was a little frightening, but Kennoch reminded himself that he should be safe here in the Materium. And besides, he didn't have another option, did he?

Scanning the Aether, from the Navis Primer (Difficult -10: 44) [roll0]

[Leon]

++The Arboretum is likely running on the same shoddy tech as the shields were (and still are since that's all we had to replace the destroyed relays with), its the next nearest system for a cascade overflow to blow back into but at least its nowhere near as critical++

++At worst some ploins will need to be picked slightly sooner and the crew can Wobble it away++

[PotatoGolem]

Well done, everyone! Anika, can you raise anyone on the vox? It would be good to know where we actually are. And Ravia, now that we're not going to imminently die could you help the crew fix the Arboretum? There's some excellent specimens there that I'd hate to lose.