Rogue Trader - The Passage

Moderator: Goatkiller666

User avatar
Andrea Chan-Gauthier
Giantfriend
Posts: 342
Joined: Sat Oct 31, 2009 6:57 pm
Location: Gravin Threndor - Rogue Trader

Post by Andrea Chan-Gauthier »

Andrea's legs buckle, and she collapses to her knees in front of Trone's coffin. Her mind is chaos, no words of remorse, no thoughts of apology. Just anguish.

Images of Trone flash before her:
Montresor wrote:A young midshipman by the name of Arrigoth Trone, searches amongst the sealed cabinets for a particular text on the second level. He has obviously been loaned the keys to the cabinets by the scribes, as he tries cabimets in turn for what he seeks, gingerly stepping over discarded books and crashed shelves.
Montresor wrote:'I should have known you'd be one of them . . .'

Trone goes for his las-pistol.
Montresor wrote:Andrea squeezes the trigger, her lungs already empty of breath. A searing beam erupts from the weapon, obscuring her vision and jolting midshipman Trone's head to one side. A blistering scar erupts along his scalp, burning hair and causing the man to cry in pain.
Montresor wrote:There is a searing blast. Trone falls back, end over the stair-well. His prize follows him down, crashing with his lifeless body amongst a heap of books and now crushed scrolls. A trail of grey smoke extends from his torn chest.
Over and over, she recalls Trone's corpse fall from on high.

Eventually, she reaches out a hand to the door of the coffin. Not opening it, just touching the surface. "I'm sorry, Midshipman Arrigoth Trone. Your death shouldn't have happened. And yet, there is honor in that you died serving the Amphaels. Your family should be proud."

Andrea stays like this for a little while longer, her time in the burial chamber being several minutes that she mostly doesn't remember clearly.
Revere the Emperor; Honour the name of Amphael, holders of the Sacred Warrant of Trade.

Blessed be the Imperium of Man; blessed be the Sacred Writ.
User avatar
Montresor
The Gap Into Spam
Posts: 2647
Joined: Fri Sep 14, 2007 2:07 am

Post by Montresor »

'Who would dare-' a whispered outrage is stifled half way through its breath. Andrea turns to see a solemn young rating staring down at her, the man's own anger subsiding the moment he recognises who has entered the burial chamber unaccompanied.

'Seneschal . . . what are you doing?? Get out of here before Akreides finds you've come here alone'. The rating helps Andrea to her feet and, insistently, escorts her back into the main hall of the Mortuary. 'Madam,' the man whispers, 'never wander in these back rooms alone. Akreides would not take kindly to it'. An element of fear hangs on the man's last sentence, though Andrea barely notices it, consumed as she is in her own horrors.

[Andrea gains one Insanity Point]
"For the love of God, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.

Image
User avatar
Andrea Chan-Gauthier
Giantfriend
Posts: 342
Joined: Sat Oct 31, 2009 6:57 pm
Location: Gravin Threndor - Rogue Trader

Post by Andrea Chan-Gauthier »

"I was just... he was..." Andrea falls silent and allows the rating to escort her back to the main room. She finds a place to sit, out of the way, and takes out her data slate. Not really paying attention to what's being displayed, she aimlessly flips from one screen to the next, vaguely trying to keep her mind off the image of Trone falling.

After a little while, she went to a clear screen, and using her stylus began to draw. The data slate is not meant for fine artwork, nor is she used to sketching beyond the rudimentary skill necessary to pass the art classes back at the Academy. She started with the eyes. Cold, yet beautiful. Inhuman, and fascinating because of it.

[If anyone comes over near her, she'll hide the drawing before they can see it.]
Revere the Emperor; Honour the name of Amphael, holders of the Sacred Warrant of Trade.

Blessed be the Imperium of Man; blessed be the Sacred Writ.
User avatar
Malachi
<i>Elohim</i>
Posts: 174
Joined: Sat Oct 31, 2009 10:09 pm

Post by Malachi »

Montresor wrote:Clabo gives Malachi a cold stare. 'Peddle for your corpses elsewhere, tech-priest'. The brother's acerbic tone surprises Malachi, who is more used to the Imperium's loyal paying respects to his intuition with the mysteries of technology. Clabo points at the Head Mortician, Perin Akreides, and barks at the Explorator: 'See him!'
"Your tone is disrespectful to the dead, present here. And why get angry? I offer them a chance to continue serving the Emperor. I thought you'd be thrilled."

My comments and questions were rhetorical. Unless Clabo poses a specific question to me, I'll just leave him to approach Perin.

With a shrug, Malachi moves to speak to Perin Akreides.

"Akreides, I'm told you are the one to speak to regarding seconding the newly dead for service within the Mechanicus. I wish to leave this to your discretion which of the dead you would provide to us, if any. We lost many trying to save the ship, and my hope is to regain enough to meet operational requirements."
Ezra
User avatar
Montresor
The Gap Into Spam
Posts: 2647
Joined: Fri Sep 14, 2007 2:07 am

Post by Montresor »

Through Brother Clabo's spiteful glare, Malachi can tell that part of the priest's anger has been exacerbated by the Explorator's words. The reason of the tech-priest has only incensed the missionary.
Malachi wrote: "Akreides, I'm told you are the one to speak to regarding seconding the newly dead for service within the Mechanicus. I wish to leave this to your discretion which of the dead you would provide to us, if any. We lost many trying to save the ship, and my hope is to regain enough to meet operational requirements."
Akreides, having just finished the Rites of Death and Preservation, turns to regard the new tech-priest. The mortician's hands click and whirr - calipers, scalpels, and needles fidget with anticipation.

'There are some who may be useful for the Mechanicus. Yesss,' he smiles. 'You are new, yess? Tell me, honoured tech-priesst, what is it that makes the best material for s-sservice to the Mechanicus? Every sssenior tech-priest ssseems to have a different interpretation on the Rites of Ssservice, despite the intractability of s-ss-sacred knowledge. If you give me your view, I will be happy to asssisst'.

[Akreides's seeming knowledge of Rites and their interpretations would strike Malachi as distinctly heretical (or heretikal). As he is not a member of the Machine Cult, he would be a prime target for elimination or, at least, investigation off the ship. Malachi would also have been told that the tech-priests allow Akreides some lee-way on the Invictus]
"For the love of God, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.

Image
User avatar
Malachi
<i>Elohim</i>
Posts: 174
Joined: Sat Oct 31, 2009 10:09 pm

Post by Malachi »

Malachi regards Akreides's words for a moment, having never been in a situation such as this before. A few memories from his studies emerge -- flashes from his past.

"Intelligence; mental and spiritual fortitude; and physical stamina."

Malachi said it more to himself than to Akreides.

"Find men with those qualities in life. Please regard the wishes of their last wills, and their relevant families, and then transform the remainder."
Ezra
User avatar
Montresor
The Gap Into Spam
Posts: 2647
Joined: Fri Sep 14, 2007 2:07 am

Post by Montresor »

Malachi wrote: "Find men with those qualities in life. Please regard the wishes of their last wills, and their relevant families, and then transform the remainder."
'Yess-yes-yes. I will s-ssee to this and send the useable remainsss to Metanuss-ss. Ssome could come from the warriorsss who died fighting the Wych. Would thisss trouble you?'
"For the love of God, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.

Image
User avatar
Injerian Praetus II
<i>Haruchai</i>
Posts: 640
Joined: Thu May 06, 2004 12:12 pm
Location: The Koronus Expanse

Post by Injerian Praetus II »

Navigator Praetus smiled grimly and fingered the lho stick that was in his top jacket pocket. Then, taking a step back and rubbing his lean face he laughed with derision, although it was not clear if he was laughing at the Amphael. The navigator turned to the chair facing the rogue trader's desk and without asking permission, reclined gracefully into it.

"Had a known you were this good at the political game," the navigator said with humour in his voice, "I would have visited you personally with a bottle of my family's best Terran wine; there's a bottle in my chambers, as a matter of fact."

Praetus stretched his legs out, as though entirely comforted by the experience of being blackmailed. His smile was rather forced, however. "My father," Praetus continued, "the Novator of House Praetus, schooled us - meaning those of us with the navigator gene expression - on the Three Arts."

He raised a slim finger. "The first is knowledge of the Adepti - Adeptus Astartes, Adeptus Administratum, et cetera." Two fingers. "The second, are the duties and responsibilities of the House and of Navigators, oh, and respect for the 'great Paternova'. Lastly," a third finger was raised, "the Art of Towering Knives.

"Appreciate the metaphor, Amphael. Us nobles are a brutal lot - more concerned with furthering our ambitions and coffers - both being largely synonymous. The Novator always said that Holy Terra is a city of cathedrals and knives, and the sharpest blades are those of the Ministorum Spires. The nobles, including my great family, tower above the endless metal and stone ocean of Terra and scheme to bring down everyone else, sometimes resorting to assassination, sometimes to things the Inquisition would find . . . heretical. So, my father said that never forget to look at the spires and see knives. Every sunset is red, like blood, for someone's blood has been spilled. 'Someday,' he said to me at night, 'it will be yours; unless you master the Three Arts, and have the third in your hand.'

"I never murdered anyone, nor by proxy. I saw my best friend cut down by a servitor made of knives and toxins, all because his navigator gene was considered the greatest of all the great houses. Duelling seemed safer, and no one really took it too far after that. However, I digress. The Paternova always ensured that politics, and playing the game, was an important part of my upbringing. I sometimes wonder had I not drifted into the Imperial Navy if my father would have used me more for my training in the third art than for my third eye."

The noble pulled out his lho stick and lit it, inhaling deeply and allowing the narcotic scent to brush against his senses, and tingled into his veins. "So," Injerian said with a light laugh, "I see what you have done, and I approve. You played it well. But let me make one thing absolutely clear. No, two things."

The navigator leaned forward and rested the lho stick near his face, the shadow of his officer cap hiding his three eyes, as he continued. "What you witnessed in the navigator's pit was no mere act of fear. Amphael, I was there when the Scream of Acquila died. And I saw it all with my third eye. You know what that does to a man? Can you say you have ever survived the collapse of a Geller field? The only reason I am alive today is because I am a very selfish and brutal man - I want to live - to be alive as much as I can because I love life. While my body slowly mutates with exposure to the warp every second is precious. So, I wanted more of that and I want more still. I am, for the love of Terra, terrified of the warp, despite the fact that I have to use it to be someone in this Emperor-forsaken galaxy."

Injerian sucked again on the lho stick and stared at the Amphael with shadowed eyes. "I am the best navigator you will ever have, and . . . sometimes . . . my decisions will not make sense to you. I spoke aloud because the best chance we had to survive the storm was by leaving the immaterium. Forgive me for my curiosity, but Du Preste said something to you that made you want to keep the ship in the warp. Fine, but let's not forget I am the senior navigator here. I demand he inform me what he said. And that is no demand of you. Amphael, look at the ship - at what it cost us to stay. Tell me my choi . . . my request was no worse. In fact, it made the most sense."

The navigator realised he may have gone too far, but he was too terrified of what would happen if the Paternova read the report, and he could not shake the feeling that the warp was laughing at him as he succumbed to the sweet release of the narcotic.
"Oh of course," the Navigator said with faint mocking in his voice, "you have probably heard of House Praetus. We have a palace on Holy Terra. Like all powerful groups, we also have our enemies. Do you honestly think someone like you matters?" - A dissolute noble.
User avatar
Malachi
<i>Elohim</i>
Posts: 174
Joined: Sat Oct 31, 2009 10:09 pm

Post by Malachi »

"So the rumours are true, then?"

Malachi nodded.

"If Metanus has need of any combat-oriented servitors, then I see good reason to pursue the use of the fallen soldiers. Especially with the risk of heresy on-board."
Ezra
User avatar
Montresor
The Gap Into Spam
Posts: 2647
Joined: Fri Sep 14, 2007 2:07 am

Post by Montresor »

Malachi wrote: "If Metanus has need of any combat-oriented servitors, then I see good reason to pursue the use of the fallen soldiers. Especially with the risk of heresy on-board."
'From what I undersstand, the Invictusss doesn't have the fass-silities for such conversion. But I will s-s-ssee what can be salvaged'. With that, Akreides returns to his work. The instant his medicae-tools are working at another corpse, and he is reciting rites, any quirk of speech is dispelled.

'Make an incision along the line of the sternum to expose sinew. Saw into the sternum with enough force and depth to create a hole for the head of the forceps . . .'

As Malachi departs the Mortuary, the rending of flesh and bone can be heard - Akreides's saw buzzes with mechanical intent.
"For the love of God, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.

Image
User avatar
Andrea Chan-Gauthier
Giantfriend
Posts: 342
Joined: Sat Oct 31, 2009 6:57 pm
Location: Gravin Threndor - Rogue Trader

Post by Andrea Chan-Gauthier »

Montresor wrote:As Malachi departs the Mortuary, the rending of flesh and bone can be heard - Akreides's saw buzzes with mechanical intent.
Andrea looks up from her sketching, surprised by the suddenly loud noise. Akreides is hunched over the corpse, reciting his verses. Behind him, she sees Clabo making his way towards the exit. She puts away her data slate quickly and rises to follow after him.

When she's left the mortuary and the doors have closed behind her, she feels it no longer inappropriate to make noise. "Brother! Brother Clabo!" She waves to him, down the length of the long corridor leading to the revered mortuary. The hallway itself is several stories tall, fitting the grandeur of the mortuary itself, and Clabo had made it some ways across the large area before Andrea had gotten there.

He turned around at his name, and waited for her to catch up. By the time she got there, she felt almost silly. She almost wanted to run, though the voice of her mother was already scolding her that proper ladies do not scamper around like common ratings. So, with forced dignity, she walked the distance. A quick step the only concession she would give, and she told herself it was so as not to annoy the good Brother.

"I'm sorry Brother, I... I'd actually come here seeking you, but you had been busy talking with our new Tech-Priest. And then I'd wandered into the burial room, and seen Trone. Did you know he'd already been seen to? I needed a few minutes to collect myself, and then one of the ratings interrupted me, and so I..."

Brother Clabo interrupted her, "Madam Seneschal, why have you sought me?"

"What? Oh, yes. Of course. Why, I would like you to teach me, if that's possible."

"Interesting. Anything is possible, of course. It is entirely another matter if it is appropriate. What would you learn from me?"

"Brother... I. I'm afraid that I have failed my family, during the events of this storm. Repeatedly. On some of those occasions, disaster was averted. The incident outside your shrine, for example. But in one case, a crewmember... an officer of the ship lost his life because of my foolishness."

"I see. That is the 'why'. Yet you still have not told me what you would learn."

"I... I don't even know what it is, Brother. That's part of the problem. I look back over these events, and I honestly can't see where I made a mistake in judgement. There were times when I lacked necessary information, and it wasn't possible to inform myself. And I can see where I made the wrong choice as a result. But I still believe that, knowing what I knew at the times, I made the right choices. And yet, a man is dead." She reached up to rub her face, around where the ocular impants emerged.

"Okay. I would like training in how better to lead people. Perhaps if I were more charismatic, or more trusted of the crew, or more feared, I would've been able to convince people to act differently, and things would have taken a different course? If I'd have been confident in my ability to order Midshipman Trone to await confirmation, I wouldn't have felt it necessary to draw a weapon."

"Miss Chan-Gauthier, this can be arranged. Though, please understand, I am a leader of people towards faith. You should consider seeking training from one versed in political leadership as well. Most likely when we arrive in Footfall, there will be opportunities for such."

"Thank you, Brother. I had hoped that your knowledge and experience on this ship, with this crew, could help me as well. I'm not interested in leading people in general. I want to be able to help these people, all around us, by leading them in the proper direction. For the betterment of the Empire, the Amphaels, and our Lord-Captain. I'm unsure how that would be seen, if the Seneschal-Majoris of a Dynastic Family were to attempt to sign up for tutaledge in leadership skills. I fear it would invite others to view us as weak."

"Miss Chan-Gauthier, you may either hide your weakness, or you may correct it. Only one of those paths will result in your eventual safety."

Andrea considered this. "Yes. Of course, Brother, you're right. But, may I seek your guidance until we reach Footfall? And most likely after we depart it again."
Revere the Emperor; Honour the name of Amphael, holders of the Sacred Warrant of Trade.

Blessed be the Imperium of Man; blessed be the Sacred Writ.
User avatar
Montresor
The Gap Into Spam
Posts: 2647
Joined: Fri Sep 14, 2007 2:07 am

Post by Montresor »

Andrea Chan-Gauthier wrote:"Yes. Of course, Brother, you're right. But, may I seek your guidance until we reach Footfall? And most likely after we depart it again."
Clabo nods sharply, then begins to walk with Andrea along the encient hall. Far above, in the vaulted ceiling, alcoves house stone statues of past Amphael Rogue Traders. They stare down upon the ants that pass along their hall.

'I know nothing of the Trone affair, Miss Chan-Gauthier, except a few pieces of news. It is not my business to question the affairs of the crew, except in where they show signs of heresy. In this case, I am satisfied that you acted with the correct zeal, though the end was unfortunate. Zeal holds more power than innocence, Miss Chan-Gauthier. Remember that.

'From what I hear, you were almost killed. Perhaps I might suggest training of another nature? This could be conducted alongside the refinement of your officerial duties. You have honed your talents in speech and class admirably for one so young, but you have allowed your body to remain weak. The Emperor's Servant is ever mindful that the body is of more use to him than the mind. Hone your strength, and you may find respect and fear from others will follow. In the meantime, I will be happy to teach you before we reach Footfall'.

A moment's silence passes and Brother Clabo changes the subject. He motions to the statues of the Amphaels far above. 'Past Rogue Traders, as I am sure you would recognise. A gallery of the Emperor's Servants, men and women made Sacred by the Sacred Writ they carried. And there were some tyrants, thieves, and sybarites too. Tell me, Miss Chan-Gauthier, as an adopted member of the Dynasty, which of your new-found ancestors do you count as the greatest?'

[Now for the exam - short-essay response . . . but seriously, Clabo will listen to Andrea's response with interest but pass no substantial commentary. If you have nothing else to add, you may conclude this encounter]
"For the love of God, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.

Image
User avatar
Drak-Kung
Ramen
Posts: 95
Joined: Tue Nov 03, 2009 6:33 pm

Post by Drak-Kung »

/OOC---sorry for the lack of posting, been a bit distracted lately..


"Indeed, once we approach the planet, a match between us would be most welcome."
User avatar
Andrea Chan-Gauthier
Giantfriend
Posts: 342
Joined: Sat Oct 31, 2009 6:57 pm
Location: Gravin Threndor - Rogue Trader

Post by Andrea Chan-Gauthier »

Andrea considered for a moment, staring from statue to statue. "Laurent has done the most for my family, of course, as he allowed us to join his own family and avoid death as heretics. Arguably, all those before him were nominally our enemies, though they certainly kept their own family free of heresy so that we might one day join them. But those were just said to demonstrate that I considered them before dismissing them. The correct answer to this is: Garrius Amphael is the greatest. All of those before him are to be honored for what they have done, but none of them will accomplish anything more. Garrius is our Lord at this moment, and it is to him that we owe our devotion now. It is worthy to learn from the Amphaels of the past, but all of my effort must, of course, go to supporting Garrius, and through him and the Sacred Writ, supporting the Emperor himself."

She glances quickly at Clabo, "Oh dear, I didn't mean to imply that the Emperor is an afterthought, Brother. Simply that the Amphael's authority is derivative of the Emperor's, and that I serve the Emperor by serving the Amphaels. I must trust that my place in the grand scheme will somehow ultimately benefit the Emperor, but my place is here within this family, and it is for this family that I will act."

"I refuse to consider the possibility that serving my family will conflict with serving the Emperor. That way lies madness. But if I am placed in such a position, I hope that I have the courage to act as my father did. He chose the Emperor, and that choice saved him."
Revere the Emperor; Honour the name of Amphael, holders of the Sacred Warrant of Trade.

Blessed be the Imperium of Man; blessed be the Sacred Writ.
User avatar
Montresor
The Gap Into Spam
Posts: 2647
Joined: Fri Sep 14, 2007 2:07 am

Post by Montresor »

Drak-Kung wrote:/OOC---sorry for the lack of posting, been a bit distracted lately..


"Indeed, once we approach the planet, a match between us would be most welcome."
[No problem]

'I look forward to it. Shall we say, "the first to concede defeat in unarmed combat"? A few days in Footfall and you can contact me when you wish the match to take place'.

[Trulitch will depart with Gabriel at this point. If you have any other comments he will wait until you have said them to leave]
"For the love of God, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.

Image
User avatar
Andrea Chan-Gauthier
Giantfriend
Posts: 342
Joined: Sat Oct 31, 2009 6:57 pm
Location: Gravin Threndor - Rogue Trader

Post by Andrea Chan-Gauthier »

INVICTUS AETERNA Supply Report: AFT/157 – 00001309.d
LOCATION: The Koronus Passage
YEAR: M41 816; 16th Day of Journey from Embarkation
FROM: Andrea Chan-Gauthier, Seneschal-Majorus; Amphael Family
TO: Lord-Captain Garrius Amphael

My Lord,

After conferring with Lieutenant Travic, it is my sad duty to inform you that the recent turbulence from the storm has caused toxins stored in the ship's cargo hold to contaminate much of the foodstuffs also stored in the ship's cargo hold. It is not a complete loss to all the food, so the ship is in no urgent danger. But, we would be well served to replace most of our food stores when we next reach port.

I will have a complete list of what was damaged by the time we arrive in Footfall.
Revere the Emperor; Honour the name of Amphael, holders of the Sacred Warrant of Trade.

Blessed be the Imperium of Man; blessed be the Sacred Writ.
User avatar
Lt. Commander Zarkov
<i>Elohim</i>
Posts: 163
Joined: Sat Nov 07, 2009 9:55 am
Location: En route to Prethian, Koronus Expanse, Segmentum Obscurus. 816.M41

Post by Lt. Commander Zarkov »

Restless and shallow, Zarkovs sleep was again invaded by the taint of creeping nightmare.
Montresor wrote:He wakes in an ancient warship, with legs aching from age and atrophy. Duty demands that he present himself upon the Bridge to Captain Stark but the pain in his legs makes every step taken in that direction agonising. His leg echoes with a metallic thud down lifeless halls.

Rents in the walls expose the interior of the ship to the cold Void, and the man tries to tell someone on Vox-Comm that damage control are needed. Lieutenant Vehle answers. Her voice is reassuring, yet there is a seductive lilt in it that gives him discomfort. Faces peer in from the Void. Red faces, bloodied, bruised; inquisitive faces, leering, mocking. Dead faces.

Stark is upon the bridge, demanding Darius Zarkov present himself, to answer for the souls of the ship - lost to the Void. The man tries to explain that he is Darius Zarkov but, as he looks at his leg - fleshy yet rapidly rusting - he wonders if he really is Darius Zarkov at all.

The hull begins to splinter as sleek arms encased in jewelled carapace reach in and tear sections of the Bridge free. Stark floats into the Void, though his face is one of the lifeless ones that peer in at the man from beyond.

A single figure, clothed in red robes, approaches with otherworldly litheness and elegance. The robes trail into the Void, to where a red stain colours the stars. A bionic arm, rusting and breaking apart pulls back a hood, and the figure in red robes smiles. Its face is impossibly beautiful, yet a wickedness pervades its entire nature. 'Welcome back to us, Darius . . .'
Zarkov's eyes opened. The darkness of his cabin was oppressive and complete. Gasping, he reached for the lumen globe. As his fingers touched the cold surface the room was bathed in soft light. He rolled off his bed and pinched the bridge of his nose. They had escaped the storm, yet his dreams weren't getting any better. He would have to talk to Detronimus soon. He got up and began to recite litanies.

Zarkov had been receiving notes of support under his door ever since his exile to his quarters. All the notes were anonymous, though he knew they must had been left by officers with access to the senior crew quarters. They were mostly of an encouraging nature, but some, worryingly, were of a more seditious bent. Looking through the notes, he recognised what could have been the crabbed hand of Nikolai Sturshyi:
Montresor wrote:'Hang in there, comrade. We await your return.'
Other notes, in unknown handwriting, were less forgiving.
Montresor wrote:'Garrius...he thinks the Bridge is no place for heroes.'

Montresor wrote:'HE couldn't share the limelight.'
Zarkov frowned. This was most troubling. If officers were willing to risk their careers and lives depositing these notes, how must the ratings be feeling? He reached for a lighter and slowly burned the handful of paper. The flickering light of the fire played across Zarkov's grim features.
Venerate the Immortal Emperor, revere his Holy name. Praise the Omnissiah, for the Machine Spirit protects.



Suffer not the Alien.
User avatar
Drak-Kung
Ramen
Posts: 95
Joined: Tue Nov 03, 2009 6:33 pm

Post by Drak-Kung »

Once the exhibition is set, Drak-Kung turns his attention to the Seneshcal's requests. Carefully looking over the personnel files and service records, a rotation schedule is worked out, 4-6 hour shifts, a rotation of shifts so no one is stuck always on a shift they dislike. And her Hell-Pistol is stored in the MOST secure of the personal armories.
User avatar
Garrius Amphael
<i>Elohim</i>
Posts: 136
Joined: Sun Nov 08, 2009 11:25 am

Post by Garrius Amphael »

Garrius sat silently, considering Praetus's words. As if reaching a sudden decision he rose to his feet and walked towards an antique globe in the corner, mapping some world aeon's away across the galaxy. He open the top half of it, exposing several bottles. He pulled one free, considering it briefly before returning it to the rack, instead pulling another free which he smiled at, seemingly satisfied. Grabbing two bulbous crystal glasses, he walked back to his desk.

"Whilst not the finest Terran wine, this Amadeac fortified wine should suffice in its absence." Garrius placed one of the large rounded glasses before the Navis Nobilite, removing the stopper to the bottle and letting its deep crimson nectar flow into the bowl of the glass."This is a fine wine, aged for over a millennium. They say that the berry used to make this wine has properties not just intoxicating, but... relaxing. A trait I am sure you will appreciate more than most, with more exquisite taste than many. Being one of only a hundred bottles made each year, I hope that this is to your liking Lord Praetus."

Still standing, Garrius swilled the wine around his own glass for a moment, before taking a small sip and smiling with gratification. "Ah yes, now we can talk to one another not as fellow crewmen but as proper gentlemen." Garrius sat back down, seeming more happy and at ease than earlier. Hepulled a wooden box from within his desk, retrieving a light tan cigar from within before pushing the open box towards the navigator. Once the cigar was properly trimmed, Garrius lit it and began to suck happily upon its thick smoke.

"Injerian, I think you will find we are not too dissimilar. You wish to live a life of excess before your cruel gene steals it away from you. I wish simply to live like you, but to live forever.

Have you seen the great hall in the forward section of the ship? With the statues of former Amphaels standing whole decks tall? There, you can see my forebears. The men who led this family to either greatness or squalor. You see, this dynasty was once great, but under the guidance of some of my forebears it was allowed to dip into near complete downfall. I simply wish to bring this dynasty back to the glory it once had. To proudly bear this name. Unlike you, I cant just rest on my families laurels, for my forebears destroyed them. And I intend to rebuild them."


Garrius considered the cigar for a moment before taking a deep draw on it once again. Around him, a swirling cloud of smoke twisted its coils.

"Du Preste merely confirmed my beliefs. He actually agreed with you, just so you know, regarding the danger of the storm. But he pointed out that this region we enter, it is far from safe. There will be other warp storms. To run so early in our venture would be weak. If we are to run from every risk, why not return to Port Wander, and like so many of my forebears choose instead to sit idly upon the laurels of my family as the Amphael name slowly dies out, thrashing about in its final death throes.

Instead, I chose to send a message out to any who had the capacity to see it. I instead chose to show the void that I would not flee, that I would push on in the name of the Amphaels to return them to greatness. The Storm was our first test, a test that we overcome. Sure, there was loss of life, but we won the battle. Like you, I am a military man, and I have come to accept loss as a means to an end.

But fear not Praetus, I will not gamble so readily with the life of one as valuable as you. For you are valuable, and I do respect you. Despite what my report may say, I have no problem with you nor your ability. I merely wish for you to respect my position. I am wanting to hear your advice on all matters, but I wish to hear them quietly and I wish for you to stand behind any decision I make. For when you question me out loud, if I am to concede that sends out the wrong message to the crew. Let me tell you that when you question me openly, I will punish you, I will choose to ignore your advice. In short, talk to me, not to any and all within earshot and I will happily work with you.

As I have said, I am aware that you are a great navigator, and I wish to hear what you have to say. Also know, that if it is a life worth living that you want, I will see to it that you live the life of luxury you deserve upon this vessel, should your performance be as I desire. If not, I will revoke whatever luxury you have, as well as ensure that the Paternova gets my message. Its nothing personal, its just that I will let nothing stand between me and my task. Something I'm sure you and your hand full of knives understands. If you doubt me, merely look at Zarkov, an officer equaled by none other, and his current situation."


Garrius leaned back, resting his boot heels upon the polished wood desk still puffing on his cigar.

"Now tell me, Injerian, do we have an understanding?"
User avatar
Injerian Praetus II
<i>Haruchai</i>
Posts: 640
Joined: Thu May 06, 2004 12:12 pm
Location: The Koronus Expanse

Post by Injerian Praetus II »

Injerian sniffed the amadeac wine and grinned widely, although more in reaction to the Amphael's words than to the wine. As though it was the most important, and last drink, that he would ever taste, he merely sipped it and allowed the mellow fluid to warm his mouth and throat.

"An excellent wine, Garrius," he said with a sigh. "I see that we are both men of similar tastes and dispositions. Very well, you have my word; it appears that you understand me and respect my needs, and I have misunderstood you. Upon the name of House Praetus, of Terra, I will give you my support.

"However, there is one last thing. I would like Du Preste to air his concerns to me before he speaks with you. He has seriously breached navigator protocol and shown disrespect to me. Therefore he will be spoken to rather sternly."

The senior navigator took another sip and leaned back, comforted in how things have progressed.
"Oh of course," the Navigator said with faint mocking in his voice, "you have probably heard of House Praetus. We have a palace on Holy Terra. Like all powerful groups, we also have our enemies. Do you honestly think someone like you matters?" - A dissolute noble.
Locked

Return to “Rogue Trader”