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  1. - Top - End - #61
    Firbolg in the Playground
     
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    Default Re: Sea of Stars - IC II

    ++We didn't exactly sneak in++
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  2. - Top - End - #62
    Ettin in the Playground
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    '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?'

  3. - Top - End - #63
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    "If he isn't, what happens if he accidentally gets himself killed?" Hannabel asks the tech-priests innocently.

  4. - Top - End - #64
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    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.
    Last edited by PotatoGolem; 2019-11-22 at 01:31 PM.

  5. - Top - End - #65
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    Felidae pats her trusty old boltgun, and replies: Diplomatic toolbox is locked and loaded, sir.

  6. - Top - End - #66
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    "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?"
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  7. - Top - End - #67
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    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."

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    Intimidate (Int 51, +10, Disturbing Voice = 71): (1d100)[61]
    "It was a GOOD plan, just completely impossible."

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  8. - Top - End - #68
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    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.

  9. - Top - End - #69
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    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
    Last edited by rax; 2019-11-22 at 06:21 PM.

  10. - Top - End - #70
    Ettin in the Playground
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    Quote Originally Posted by rax View Post
    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.'

  11. - Top - End - #71
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    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?"
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  12. - Top - End - #72
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    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.

  13. - Top - End - #73
    Ettin in the Playground
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    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.'

  14. - Top - End - #74
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    "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."
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  15. - Top - End - #75
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    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.
    Last edited by Kaptin Keen; 2019-11-25 at 06:05 PM.

  16. - Top - End - #76
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    "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."

  17. - Top - End - #77
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    "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?"
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  18. - Top - End - #78
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    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.
    "It was a GOOD plan, just completely impossible."

    ~ Sophistemon

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    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?

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    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?"

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    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.'

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    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.

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    "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."
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    "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.

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    '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.'

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    Default Re: Sea of Stars - IC II

    "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."
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  27. - Top - End - #87
    Banned
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    Default Re: Sea of Stars - IC II

    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.

  28. - Top - End - #88
    Ogre in the Playground
     
    MindFlayer

    Join Date
    Aug 2014
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    Default Re: Sea of Stars - IC II

    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.

  29. - Top - End - #89
    Ettin in the Playground
    Join Date
    May 2017

    Default Re: Sea of Stars - IC II

    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.

  30. - Top - End - #90
    Bugbear in the Playground
     
    Lizardfolk

    Join Date
    Apr 2010

    Default Re: Sea of Stars - IC II

    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.
    "It was a GOOD plan, just completely impossible."

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