Rogue Trader - The Passage

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Montresor
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Post by Montresor »

Lt. Commander Zarkov wrote:
[Attached reports, most of which, admittedly, are from officers loyal to Zarkov. However it appears they bear out at least part of the First Officer's story (GM's discretion as to how much).]
[Reports corroborate Zarkov's testimony but, they mostly come from officers known for their loyalty to him, and they differ somewhat in the precise phrases attributed to Du Preste. A handful of minor reports relating to the duel also give mention that many of the Bridge staff noticed Zarkov's clear agitation from after the first rest period of the Storm. Some even question why Zarkov had not officially lodged Colonel Eyre's complaint (which led to the duel)]
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Garrius Amphael
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Post by Garrius Amphael »

"Come"

The door opened and Le Vatch entered. "The Lt Commander is here to see you Lord, as requested." The servant bowed out of the room and in marched Zarkov.

"Ah yes Zarkov, I have been reading these reports." Zarkovs heels had barely clicked to attention when Garrius indicated towards the piles of reports next to his half finished dinner, the Lt Commanders own being atop the pile ."First let me commend you for your sterling work done on the bridge in my...absence."

The Rogue Trader picked up the report and looked upon it."I do, however, have one thing to query you about. There is a passage in this, and I quote; However, these suspicions, shared by members of the Ecclesarchy and the senior staff, cannot be allowed to be ignored, for vigilance and faith are the only shield we have against oblivion in these dark times. Gulliame Du Preste must be questioned, with an experienced psyke..." There was a bang as Garrius's fist slammed into the table, the report crumpled within his grip. He was standing now, and livid towards the Lt Commander.

"Du Preste must be questioned? MUST??? WHO ARE YOU!?! To tell me what MUST be done upon my vessel? MUST!?! I decide what MUST be done here Zarkov, and you will not doubt that one moment. MUST. You will ask of me, nay, DEMAND of me to interrogate a Lord Navigator and fellow noble? Excuse me Mr Zarkov but you are out of line." Garrius took a deep breath.

"No, Du Preste shall not be questioned. Your actions towards Du Preste and the late Colonel Eyre clearly show your inability to share authority and respect the rank and station of others. Why my forebear put up with your egotistical ways is beyond me. I find your actions sickening, Zarkov, and not befitting of an officer of your standing. Calling witch hunts and dueling anyone who dares challenge your ability to command. No, it is not the behavior I would expect of a gentleman."

Garrius walked over to a window in his dining hall, over looking the garden that was built in the center of his mansion. He sighed. "No Zarkov, it will not do. You clearly have issues with authority and a lust for command that is most worrying to me. You leave me in a very difficult position. I must be blunt, Lt Commander, had you not already executed the only man clearly capable of holding the position of First Officer I would strip you of your rank right now. Alas, as there is no other this shall not be so. No, instead you are stripped of all duties until I decide what is best to be done with you. You are to remain to your quarters, accept no guests and not step a foot upon the bridge. Understood? Or shall you demand some other action of me? Now get out of my sight before I have a change of heart."
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Lt. Commander Zarkov
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Post by Lt. Commander Zarkov »

Zarkov listened to his Captains tirade with staunch discipline, staring only forward. He despaired, not at the fact he was being lectured, but at the Lord-Captain's ignorance to the obvious. Worse, he was being called out because of his wording. Writing reports had never been his strong suit, and he had obviously put too much emotional import into this one. He mentally chided himself for this lack of tact.

"Sir, Aye Sir. I apologise, unreservedly, to you for any offence caused by my strong wording." He paused. "It was not my intention to appear to challenge your command, only to uphold it against those who would threaten it. That is the Emperor's truth, Sir." Zarkov straightened his back still further, trying to maintain his dignity while ignoring the pain that flared up in his shoulder. His hand came up in a textbook salute, bruised bone grinding against sinew. Then he turned on his heel and exited the Captain's quarters. His opinion of Garrius as a resolute naval officer had been crushed. He hoped the Amphael would be able to see through his misplaced pride to the lies being spread before him.
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Post by Montresor »

[In the halls of the Command Section

This is a short incident for Andrea; feel free to respond to it at your own leisure. It's intended to happen when Andrea is on her way to see Garrius in his mansion
]

Seneschal Majoris Chan-Gauthier is on her way to meet with Garrius Amphael, an appointment to be held in his private mansion near the summit of the Command Section. The seneschal carries a small bundle of scrolls and forms under her arm, balancing the delicate documents as she walks.

Three junior officers head directly towards her, talking amongst themselves. When they notice the seneschal, their demeanour changes. They become silent, and the lead of the three smiles widely and, a little stupidly at Andrea. Distracted by thoughts of her coming meeting, Andrea is shocked to find that the midshipman knocks the scrolls from under her arm. They roll and cascade across the deck.

'Begging your pardon, ma'am,' the man says. 'I should watch where I'm going'.

The three men continue, leaving Andrea to collect her things unaided. 'Careful, Mr Styles,' another man says, 'she's been known to shoot midshipmen for less'.

'Aye, especially for following orders'.

The three men burst into laughter and continue down the corridor.

[You can make a Challenging Fel test to stop them if you like, but they won't really do anything more, or help Andrea. If challenged, they will lie through their teeth, continue to laugh, and insist it was an accident. A three step success would be needed to change their attitude. I'll leave it to your discretion]
Last edited by Montresor on Tue Mar 23, 2010 5:19 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Montresor »

[In Garrius Amphael's mansion]

Gulliame Du Preste waits quietly in a side-chamber near the Rogue Trader's dining hall. He watches Lieutenant Commander Zarkov leave. Having evidently heard the rage of the Lord-Captain from the next room, Du Preste watches Zarkov's departure without sound. His lips are ever drawn in their rictus grin.

A few minutes later, after Garrius has composed himself, Du Preste is ushered in to confer.

'Thank-you, Lord-Captain, for agreeing to meet with me in private'. The navigator seats himself in an immense wooden chair. His robes cling unevenly to his withered physique.

'My Lord-Captain Amphael, I must inform you of my intentions concerning the incident in the Librarium. I trust that this information will remain, for the time, between us'.

Du Preste leans in closely and begins to tell Garrius Amphael a story . . .

[See your PM]

Gulliame Du Preste reclines in the chair and watches the Rogue Trader for his reaction. 'I await your mercy,' he says.
Last edited by Montresor on Tue Mar 23, 2010 5:20 am, edited 1 time in total.
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Post by Garrius Amphael »

Garrius looked across the desk at the navigator. Silence hung over the pair for long moments as the Rogue Trader pondered Du Prestes words. After a long breath Garrius finally spoke.

"I am unsure what to think, Du Preste. Whilst I trust my forebears judgement and am inclined to believe you are not a heretic as others have painted you, this... is a lot to take in. I shall require some time to think of it all, and at any rate we could not act upon anything until we were done with our current task.

That said, I would like to explore the possibilities here. Perhaps you could provide more knowledge to me of this over our journey. Also, I would like some more concrete evidence of my uncles involvement. As of now, however, I am acting neither for nor against your case. I'm sure you understand."


Garrius sat back, looking at the navigator over his arched fingers.
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Post by Montresor »

'You might consult Ibrim Faydra-Amphael for corroboration. A message to Malfi will take some time, of course. And have you thoroughly searched all of Laurent's records? There may be some evidence to be found there.

'Otherwise I agree, Lord-Captain. There is no need to rush anything. However, perhaps you could give me the book to continue working on'.

Du Preste stands up and straightens his robes. 'I do not wish to waste any more of your time, Lord-Captain. Thank you for not pursuing these foolish allegations against me. I am curious - will you make Darius Zarkov apologise to me on the Bridge? It is a matter of family honour for me, I am sure you would understand'.

[Du Preste will wait for your reply, and nod to whatever it is. Unless you wish to detain him further, he will return to his quarters]
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Post by Montresor »

[Lieutenant Commander Zarkov's Quarters]

The shock and spite of Garrius Amphael's debriefing with Zarkov still prey upon the First Officer's mind when he re-enters his quarters. Perhaps, too, the greater dissappointment of Zarkov discovering that the Lord-Captain's ideas of command are not cast in the same mould as Captain Fulvium's were weigh just as heavily. The regrets of a career hang with every heavy step of Zarkov's mechanical leg.

In the central room of Zarkov's quarters, Captain Gaius Trulith sits in an armchair, sipping on a strong smelling liquor. Zarkov had almost forgotten his quarters were currently shared with the Alid-Yuril Security Chief, so little had the two men to say to one another. Trulitch and Zarkov's bionic eyes regard each other.

'A drink, Commander?' Trulitch pours a glass full from a metal flask he carries. The smell of the liquor is strong, and of the type usually found illegally distilled in military barracks.

'You navy types are soft,' he says, with an almost derisive glance. 'I heard about the duel. I'd congratulate you for your swordsmanship,' Trulitch nods to his own - a much scarred and vicious looking chainsword, 'but I think you wasted your time. When soldiers get out of line in the Guard, they're shot. No duels, no trials, no wasting time. You should have just shot that Colonel and let his blood be a reminder to anyone else who insults the uniform'.
Last edited by Montresor on Tue Mar 23, 2010 1:21 pm, edited 1 time in total.
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Lt. Commander Zarkov
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Post by Lt. Commander Zarkov »

Zarkov looked at the glass with surprise. He had not been expecting to see Trulitch upon his return. The Lord-Captain's words still rang in his ears, loud and ignorant. Zarkov took the drink, gulping the glass down in one hit. It burned his throat, much harsher than amasec. He regarded Trulitch with a wary eye.

"I'd be lying to say the thought hadn't crossed my mind, Captain. Emperor knows I would have liked to." He slowly sat down, his bionic leg hampering him, and his wounds aching again. He poured himself another glass of the strong liquor at Trulitch's nod.

"Sallustis wasn't some no-rank Guardsman however, he was an Imperial Officer. A hero to some. To rob him of a distinguished death would have been...dishonourable."

He sipped the liquor now, savouring its bite. He started to find some semblance of relaxation, and his anger began to cool. It was good to find a like soul, a true veteran, in the same damned situation. There really was no life after war.

"I've always respected the Guard for their efficiency, Captain; the example of the Commissariat is one we can all look up to. But the navy has its traditions for a reason. Had I executed Eyre where he stood, I would have disrupted bridge protocol, appearing brutal and aloof. Besides, "rule by bolt shell" doesn't work so well on these...merchant vessels. Instead, I gave Eyre the opportunity to refuse his fate. I knew he wouldn't, of course."

Zarkov paused, the memory of the duel still fresh in his mind.

"I don't think I've asked you Trulitch, how you gained your eye? They say there's a story behind every augment."
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Post by Montresor »

Lt. Commander Zarkov wrote:
"I don't think I've asked you Trulitch, how you gained your eye? They say there's a story behind every augment."
'Lecco-IV, Raven's Feast campaign'. Captain Trulitch involuntarily touches his bionic eye. A deep, white scar still runs around the rim of the augmentation.

'7,000 dead. 21,000 wounded. This was the third outbreak of Greenskins on the planet, and the bastard governor still wouldn't agree to firebomb the soil. This time they had themselves dug in the mountains like rok-worms. My company was just meat in the grinder for that one. Only 72 of us were left by the end. An Ork nob tore my eye out with one of their damn mechanical claws. A Russ blew him to pieces a few seconds later'.

The captain stares into his near-empty glass for a moment, swirls it, then downs the drink. He refills both Zarkov's and his own glass with the last drops of his liquor.

'You're right, Zarkov, this merchant life isn't good for us. The rules are different. It's too comfortable. I'd give my good eye for a chance to relive just one battle.

'And what about you? Where did your eye come from?'
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Post by Andrea Chan-Gauthier »

[I'm not yet done drafting the report, so don't start the thread where I talk to Garrius. But, here in the hallway:
Montresor wrote:[You can make a Challenging Fel test to stop them if you like, but they won't really do anything more, or help Andrea. If challenged, they will lie through their teeth, continue to laugh, and insist it was an accident. A three step success would be needed to change their attitude. I'll leave it to your discretion]
Andrea stares at them as they leave. Tears are coming from her eyes as she picks up the last few scrolls, then turns to get to the Lord-Captain's mansion in time for her appointment.
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Post by Lt. Commander Zarkov »

Captain Trulitch wrote:An Ork nob tore my eye out with one of their damn mechanical claws. A Russ blew him to pieces a few seconds later'.

The captain stares into his near-empty glass for a moment, swirls it, then downs the drink. He refills both Zarkov's and his own glass with the last drops of his liquor.

'You're right, Zarkov, this merchant life isn't good for us. The rules are different. It's too comfortable. I'd give my good eye for a chance to relive just one battle.
The Lieutenant Commander grunted his assent.
Captain Trulitch wrote:'And what about you? Where did your eye come from?'
Zarkov reclined in his chair, nostalgia pouring over him, threatening to take him back to the moment, to relive the battle as it happened.

"I was a Warrant Officer at the time. Back then, the Infinite Fury was the most heavily armed capital ship in Battlefleet Calixis. They called her the 'pride of Golgenna'." He smiled, remembering the battlecruiser's lethal lines; how it was nigh impossible to percieve her size until she was in port.

"We were in high orbit over Sepheris Secundus when the alarms began to sound. The ork rabble, a beta class incursion it was, entered the system behind the third moon; blocking our Auger readouts. That savage, random greenskin cunning carried them as far as the second moon before our escorts picked them up. The order came down from Captain Fulvium to turn our lance turrets and prepare to engage. I had had my ears replaced by that time," he smiled fondly at the thought, "and was stationed on one of the quad mounts on the port side."

Zarkov took a long, slow draught of his drink. The liquor was starting to have some effect. Still, he was determined to tell his story without embellishing the facts.

"The first broadside of ork shells obliterated our escorts. One frigate, a Firestorm like our Invictus, if I remember rightly," Zarkov's good leg tapped the floor, "simply disintegrated with all hands."

"We were dead in the void, so to speak. The orks had taken us completely by surprise, and a battlecruiser doesn't turn on a throne. Besides, the Fury had the most powerful broadside in the fleet; our Captain knew better than to try to turn and face our foe. So, we on the superstructure weathered the ork fire while the port macrobatteries hurled out shell after shell to bring down their shields."

Zarkov glanced at the Captain to see if he was drawing out his yarn too much, but Trulitch merely sipped his drink in silent reflection.

"The volume of ork fire was intense. Our cruiser-rated shields overloaded too quickly, and soon our station was receiving hits. My commanding officer, the 2IC and half our crew were killed as a shell burst vented the command section into the void. The same shell burst," He motioned to his bionic, "relieved me of my eye."

"I managed to hit the hull seal in time to stop further crew from being sucked in the vacuum, but that incident left me in command of the lances for the duration of the battle. By that time what primitive xenos shielding they had was long gone. The orks paid me back in blood that day. You could say it set the tone of my entire career." Zarkov ended grimly.

He finished his drink and set the glass back on the table. He felt better. He realised he hadn't recounted that story to anyone in an age. His memory was still as fresh as the day it happened, 33 years ago.
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Post by Montresor »

The veteran Guard captain merely watches and listens. Knowing well enough that any observations of his own would seem trite to Zarkov's own vivid memory of the encounter, Trulitch simply raises his glass.

'Death to all Greenskins,' he says, by way of toast.

With the last of the liquor gone, Trulitch slumps comfortably back in his chair. 'How about a bottle of that amasec, Lieutenant Commander? This is going to be a long voyage to Albinus, with precious little to do. You don't want to see the dogs under my command with time on their hands. I shall have to find ways to keep them in line. At least you can pass the time with your duties on the Bridge. After months in this metal tomb - no offense - I'll be killing the first living thing I see after planetfall...'

[Trulitch will happily pass the night drinking with Zarkov and swapping war stories and service philosophy, if Zarkov is inclined to do the same. Eventually, the captain will simply fall to sleep in his chair]
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"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.

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Post by Andrea Chan-Gauthier »

Andrea Chan-Gauthier wrote:INVICTUS AETERNA INCIDENT REPORT: HYT/19 – 00004782.A
LOCATION: The Koronus Passage
YEAR: M41 816; 14th Day of Journey from Embarkation
PERSONNEL REPORTING: Andrea Chan-Gauthier, Seneschal-Majorus; Amphael Family


Lord-Captain Amphael,

It is my duty to report some very troubling events on the ship's Librarium. At approximately the time that yourself, Drak-Kung and others were purging our ship of the foul Wych belowdecks, I returned to the Librarium. I had decided that my presence on the bridge was causing more harm than good, and so I set out for somewhere I might help to return order to the chaos left after the storm's fury was gone. As anticipated, many of the less valuable pieces were scattered willy-nilly onto the floor of the Librarium, from three floors of books. The shelves themselves suffered damage as well, so some will need to be replaced later. The more valuable pieces had been kept in locked and secure containers (as much for the protection of the piece, as for guarding it's contents) and fared much better. Chief Scribe Thule, long a supporter of the Librarium and the Amphael family, was himself injured in the cascade of books falling to the floor, but seems to be doing well at the moment. Thule and other Librarium staff were in the process of restoring order to the volumes, initially by finding the more fragile scrolls and removing them from the pile, so that they weren't creased or torn further. When I arrived, they filled me up to speed on all that had happened.

Also when I arrived, there was a man identified to me as Midshipman Trone. Thule and Ursus expressed to me that the man was present with all the proper credentials, and was seeking a volume on behalf of the Navigators. This statement seemed to be wrong, for the reasons outlined below.
  • I had just come from the bridge before coming here. While on the bridge, there was much talk of a member of the Noble Navigator group being sent to help deal with the wych belowdecks. I did not hear any mention by either Navigator present that there was information needed at that point, especially since the Navigators have their own specialty collection of books. It seemed to me unlikely one would require any information we have in our family Librarium.

    While on the Bridge, I overheard a rating describe how there were those now following the Wych who were once loyal armsmen for the ship. I cannot believe that they would honestly turn traitor, so I assume this Wych can turn a man's mind against his loyalties. I therefore concluded that if this person was NOT sent on an honest mission from the Navigators, and that it were possible he was acting on behalf of the Wych instead, and that I could therefore not allow him to get the information he carried to those who could use it.
In my opinion, admittedly not expert in military or security matters, there was enough doubt of Trone's situation that I wished to confirm with those more able to judge. My intent was simply to hold the Midshipman for a period, while we verified his need to be present, and then either let him go about his duties (with a small delay) or be escorted to the brig for punishment.

I judged that Midshipman Trone, who was carrying a laspistol of his own, and a trained military man to boot, would easily be able to best me in a fight. So, I had my staff quietly fetch me my own weapons. I'm no combattant, but since I had my weapon drawn and pointed at his back before I called to him, I expected that he would not be able to simply kill me and escape, if escape were his goal. I sent our senior archivist ahead to lock the exit, also so we could capture the man alive. Finally, I sent one of the junoir scribes to the Bridge to confirm with someone in authority there, Lt. Commander Zarkov or Navigator Praetus, if the Midshipman was acting on lawful orders.

Though I can see now, in hindsight, why he would take my caution as an indicator that I meant him harm, instead of as the compliment to his strength I meant it to be; at the time I meant only to have the gun already pointed at him, so that he would react calmly, relinquish the book he was taking with him out of the Librarium, and surrender himself. The man accused me of being a part of some conspiracy, complicent in the murder of Laurent Amphael, and now trying to murder HIM to cover it all up. He further accused me of being too stupid to have removed that particular volume in the first place, as it would much more easily have caused the coverup. He suggested that only a single Navigator on this ship is trustworthy enough to act on the information in the book, and this was the one to whom he was bringing the book. At this time, I didn't know which Navigator he meant, though I can assume it was Du Preste.

When I saw that he was going to draw his pistol, and attempt to kill me, I fired. I believe I scored a strong hit against the man, and he scored a hit to one of my eyes. We exchanged further shots with no real injuries, since by then we'd both taken cover.

I once again instructed Midshipman Trone to disarm himself, return the book to me, and surrender himself to the guardsmen I hoped were en route from the bridge. He repeated his claims of conspiracy, then threatened to kill any who attempt to stop him from leaving.

I stood there, not preventing him from leaving until he got to the Librarium's exit. Chief Archivist Ursus had not been able to get to the door before the fighting started, but when Trone neared the door, his guard dropped somewhat. I shot him in the shoulder, hoping his body would shield the book from the worst of the damage. This caused him to fall from the top of the staircase onto the main level of the Librarium, three stories below. The book fell with him, and was likely damaged in the fall. Trone fell upon several scrolls, which may need repair or replacement.

To my horror, the group of armsment arrived shortly after this, including Navigator Du Preste. He saw that the man had died, and confirmed that Trone was there acting on his full authority.

In summary, my intuition was clearly wrong, in that the armsman was indeed acting with full knowledge and authority of the Navigators. In my defense, my intent was only to have my suspicions confirmed or denied, not to pass judgement upon Trone's actions myself. Had Midshipman Trone obeyed my lawful order to wait until outside corroboration of his credentials was given, none of this tragedy would have happened.

Action Plan:
--------------

1. I recommend that your Lordship pursue these rumors of a conspiracy which lead to the murder of Laurent Amphael, especially if there is danger it may also target yourself.

2. I request that the repairs of the Librarium include some upgrade of the facilities. Specifically that the shelving be made able to withstand the kind of turbulence we encountered in this storm, and that the shelves include closing doors to prevent the volumes from falling off.

3. I request permission, and additional scholars for the purpose of a complete catalog of the contents of the Librarium. There will need to be some amount of delicate restoration work on some of the volumes that were damaged. In addition to that, based on the theory that this one volume included information that could reveal a murderous conspiracy within the Amphael family, and on the conjecture that Laurent himself was studying some works before the strange behavior seen immediately prior to his muder abort Port Warder, it's clear to me that the current Librarium staff is not familiar enough with the full contents of our facility. That ignorance seems to be more dangerous than I'd originally suspected.

4. I request that, again under the assumption that there is dangerous information contained within the Librarium of which we are unaware, that additional security precautions be taken with the facility going forward. I would assume that would include armed guards within the area at all times, though the details of any security would be up to our Chief-of-Security and your Lordship.

5. This is not strictly a recommendation, but it seems that the most direct cause of this misunderstanding was the inability to communicate during this time. Because of the delay in sending and receiving word with the bridge, I (mistakenly) felt that a show of force was necessary to cause the necessary delay to allow for communication lag. I have no suggestions for how things in this area could be changed, so I hope that your Lordship can provide wisdom to us all.

6. On a personal note, with your Lordship's permission, I would like to begin working with members of the Ecclesiarchy and perhaps with some of the military officers on the ship. This incident and the near disaster at the Chapel's doorway have shown me that my previous learning experiences have been lacking in leadership areas. I maintain that I am an able administrator and analyst of data, but that I am still need to grow as a leader of people. It is my fervent hope to make no further mistakes like this in my service to the Amphael family, so any opportunity to better myself in these increasingly necessary areas would be cherished.
Revere the Emperor; Honour the name of Amphael, holders of the Sacred Warrant of Trade.

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Post by Lt. Commander Zarkov »

Montresor wrote:Trulitch simply raises his glass.

'Death to all Greenskins,' he says, by way of toast.
"Death."
With the last of the liquor gone, Trulitch slumps comfortably back in his chair. 'How about a bottle of that amasec, Lieutenant Commander? ...after months in this metal tomb - no offense - I'll be killing the first living thing I see after planetfall...'
Zarkov was not usually a man disposed to much drinking. But at the moment he felt his soul would collapse if he dwelt on the current situation on the Invictus. He was effectively powerless, trapped in his quarters. Somehow, inexplicably, this made him feel empowered, like he finally had control over things now that everything had fallen apart. It was a strange feeling, no doubt.

"To be sure, Gaius, another toast requires filled glasses." He rose slowly from his seat. "No offense taken comrade; the void is not for everyone, particularly not on the Invictus. They say she's cursed you know. I'm inclined to believe their folly the luck we've been having." He reached into his footlocker, retrieving his old bottle of Voidsman '92.

"A fine vintage. Well suited to the occasion." Zarkov said, half to himself. He sat back down and pulled the stopper, pouring two glasses. Leaving the bottle on the table, he raised his glass to Trulitch in another toast.

"Death to all xenos."

"Death."

Zarkov grinned as the fine liquor lined his throat. "You will have to retrieve me some more amasec from Footfall, when we arrive. My shout, of course." He looked at the bottle on the table. It was exquisitely carved as a trophy, but retained a spartan, military air. Words in high gothic sat etched on smoky emerald green adamantium. "This bottle was a gift from my old captain upon my first command. A bittersweet presentation it was." He remembered his captains face, a mixture of fatherly pride and bitter loss.

"The Mechanicus sent the Fury all the way to Mars for repairs...She was the one of the oldest ships in the Segmentum...too valuable to repair on a lesser Forge World..." Zarkov realised he was meandering again, and took another drink.

"Have you ever set foot on a destroyer, captain? Horrible, fragile things...That was my first command; leading a squadron in the Ixaniad sector. The fleet actions there were messy, bloody affairs, even by navy standards. In fact, the whole period seems to have been deleted from navy records. Obviously the top brass realised their mistakes. But I'll tell you a story..."

[Zarkov and Trulitch will swap war stories until the captain falls asleep. Then Zarkov will quietly get up, return the half empty amasec bottle to his footlocker, and go to sleep himself. He has consumed roughly ten standard drinks over a time, and is mildly intoxicated.]
Venerate the Immortal Emperor, revere his Holy name. Praise the Omnissiah, for the Machine Spirit protects.



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Injerian Praetus II
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Post by Injerian Praetus II »

Montresor wrote:
Injerian Praetus II wrote:
"I was not aware that Peraton was of noble birth," Praetus said with a smile, "but this is a large vessel. A finer drink would not be out of place in tonight's schedule."

Navigator Praetus nodded to his dinner companions and then stood up. A moment later, he was following the midshipman out of the room.
'Indeed,' Ulyle explains. 'Peraton and Eyre served together in the same bomber squadron - under Eyre, no officer would be given a bomber command unless they were of noble lineage. It's too difficult to measure a man's worth without knowing where he's from, so it makes sense to only promote nobles'.

Ulyle leads Praetus through a richly engraved door and into a side-room. The room is dimly lit, richly engraved, and heavily clouded with sweet cigar smoke. Praetus recognises several various blends of the finest Calixian quality.

Inside the room there are a number of arm-chairs and couches, positioned around a central games table where three men sit playing cards. A few chairs about the table are empty, one - at the head - has a blood-stained uniform draped over it.

As Ulyle and Praetus enter, the three men stand.

'Allow me to introduce these gentlemen. This is sub-lieutenant Alistair Peraton,' a tall and handsome man with a thin moustache nods to you; 'here we have midshipman Marcus Tritian,' a slightly portly man nods, his face lined heavily with veins of alcohol abuse; 'and here is Ensign Kale Uberstys, the Grox,' the men laugh at this remark, and the last man - a deeply-complexioned officer extends his hand.

'Gentlemen,' Ulyle nods to Praetus, 'meet Senior Navigator Injerian Praetus the second'.

Peraton motions to an empty chair. 'Please, Praetus, take a seat'. There are a number of amasec bottles upon the table. 'Take your pick, honoured navigator. We have a fine Scintillian Reserve, M40, here that we've been meaning to polish off'. Peraton opens a silver lho-case and offers the navigator one of his expensive lho-sticks.

The Grox lights his own cigar and motions to the table. 'Care for a cut into the game, Navigator Praetus? We have a few absentees tonight, and could do with some fresh competition'.
Injerian Praetus II takes his seat, and with subdued - restricted - eagerness, he reaches for a lho stick. Lighting it, he relaxes back into his seat and grins at each of his new companions. Relaxing, he nodded his assent. "Of course, a game would be wonderful. I must admit, following the events of the day, I am rather fatigued; although I imagine that these fine articles will much stimulate me."

The senior navigator made a gesture - palm towards to ceiling - towards the cards, and nodded at Ulyle.
"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.
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Post by Montresor »

Injerian Praetus II wrote: The senior navigator made a gesture - palm towards to ceiling - towards the cards, and nodded at Ulyle.
The cards are dealt and the men begin a round of games, played for small amounts of money and larger amounts of amasec. Of the men, it is clear that Peraton is the cleverest player, winning hands mostly through bluff and friendly intimidation.

[Averaged Praetus's Intelligence and Fellowship, and gave a +10 for his Peer (nobility) trait. Success]

Senior Navigator Praetus feels quite at home amongst Peraton and his companions. Scenes from his youth once more impress themselves upon the navigator's mind. He recalls having spent nights like these with numerous young noblemen and women. Praetus knows that the manner, and almost affected indifference to wealth, of the group marks them out as the most frequent kind of nobility - those who will never directly inherit. Forced to make their fortunes in professional military careers, the disenfranchised nobleman is known for a life spent chasing a fortune. These men are doubtless no different.

Praetus notices that all the men wear the same silver ring, inlaid with a carving of a vine.

'Friend,' Sub-lieutenant Peraton addresses the navigator, later in the evening. 'Tell me, you've worked closely with the Senior staff. What are your opinions of them? Hmm? This new Lord-Captain, for instance? Or Zarkov?'

'Oh, let's not discuss real-estate again!' Marcus Tritian jests. His laugh is embarrassed and shortly lived - the silence of the others tells Praetus that something has happened between this group and Zarkov to make any jokes concerning him very black affairs.

[Now is an opportunity for Praetus to make new allies, should he wish it. The group seem favourable to him, though much of their demeanour is probably deliberate fondness. After Praetus answers their above questions, the night will come gradually to a halt. He will be invited to join them any time he likes - they usually meet twice a week. If you have any questions for them yourself, please ask...otherwise feel free to wrap the encounter up with your next post]
"For the love of God, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.

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Post by Injerian Praetus II »

Praetus placed a cigar in his mouth and inhaled deeply, narrowing his eyes as he stared at the men. A grin was forming on his lips. Pulling the cigar out, he leaned forward and pointed it at Peraton.

"The Amphael is new to this ship, and I believe he is trying hard to impress the crew members. All theatrics and show, if you ask me. He's got courage, I'll admit, but that does not make a good captain. I've seen men with no charisma run a ship because of their reputation. The Amphael has made, in all honesty, some poor decisions." Praetus paused, drinking some amasec before he continued. "However, he was placed in a difficult position. The incident regarding my navigation recommendation comes to mind. I think the captain needs to worry less about rousing - what is the name, used in that ancient pre Dark Age of Technology book? - people like Henry the Fifth, and more about making good decisions that will mark him well.

"Now Zarkov," Praetus said with a wide grin, smoke wreathing his face, "is a man of distinction. At first, I had little to do with him, for I know not his birth or name, but he supported me against Du Preste and I believe he is therefore a man who makes good decisions."

The senior navigator kept smiling.
"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.
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Post by Montresor »

There are nods of assent from the small company of officers as Praetus finishes his assesment of Lord-Captain Amphael. Glasses are refilled in anticipation of another bout of conversation. However, the moment Praetus heaps praise upon the name of Zarkov, an awkward and almost hostile silence descends.

'I think that's enough drinks for the evening, gentlemen,' Peraton says, his tone heavy with forced-civility. Without another word, he gets up and leaves.

The other men stare at one another warily, Ulylle in particular seems embarrassed. Tritian hurriedly downs an entire glass of amasec, careful not to let it go to waste. His varicose veins flush with colour.

Both Tritian and Uberstys bid a polite farewell to the Senior Navigator and depart. Ulylle stays behind to share a few words with Praetus. 'Honoured-navigator . . . you must forgive their abruptness. Zarkov recently slew Peraton's best friend in a duel. Colonel Eyre was one of us, Injerian. More than that - he was our leader. Be careful how readily you trust someone like Lieutenant Commander Zarkov. He's not one of us,' Ulylle emphasises the word deliberately, implying that the common ground shared between Praetus and these men - nobility - is not shared by Darius Zarkov. 'He was Void-born, Injerian. Honourably Discharged from the Navy after being the sole survivor of a Naval disaster. He's cursed, Injerian - not to be trusted'.

A moments silence passes between the young officer and the Senior Navigator. 'But, no hard feelings. I'll have a word to Peraton. I've heard that later in this cycle there's to be a Grand Ball at Footfall, hosted by one of the major Rogue Traders in Koronus. If we make it in time, what's say you come along with us as our guest? Think it over'.

[Ulylle will bid Praetus goodnight. There's half a bottle of excellent amasec left on the table - much better quality than the admittedly good stuff served with dinner. The bloodied uniform has been left draped over the vacant chair. Praetus will note that the name tag reads S. Eyre. Tomorrow, Praetus will likely have his appointment with Garrius Amphael]
"For the love of God, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.

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Post by Montresor »

[This encounter happens a day after Zarkov's last post. The encounter is intended for Drak-Kung]

The Armsmen of the Invictus Aeterna are six-tenths men and women drawn from the ratings and issued with las and autoguns. Not soldiers, they are more used for basic supervision of security on the vessel. In times of battle, however, the Armsmen are called upon to act as marines to repel boarders, or to board enemy ships themselves. Over the years, segments of the thousand or more strong Armsmen contingent has been progressively professionalised, with mixed success.

An old stroage hall, converted for use as a training room, now resounds with martial combat. Men and women match each other in feats of strength, endurance, or in tests of unarmed combat. Today, a group of thirty men and women practice moves in pairs.

Standing away from the practice area, two members of the Alid-Yuril Consortium watch the procceedings. Captain Gaius Trulitch stands with his hands resting on his hips, watching the duelling with clear dissatisfaction. He wears his old Guard uniform, adorned now with Alid-Yuril heraldry. His chainsword hangs by his side. Just behind and to the right of him is the young nobleman, Gabriel Kaustis-Yuril III. Gabriel is adorned in clothes of the finest manufacture, jewel-rimmed gloves adorn his hands, and a cloak of skinned Phryy-Cat hangs from his shoulder. Gabriel's posture is a mirror of Trulitch's, and he watches the older captain with keen interest.

Drak-Kung enters, going about his duties, though he is unnoticed by the Alid-Yuril men. 'Pathetic,' Captain Trulitch almost spits. 'These dogs wouldn't be fit to wash uniforms in the Guard'.

Some of the Armsmen sneer at the captain, but stand abruptly to attention when Drak-Kung enters the room. Trulitch sees the Master-at-Arms for the first time, looking him up and down, obviously weighing up the Arch-Militant's battle-worthiness.

'Master-at-Arms,' Trulitch nods, 'we finally meet. I've been watching your . . . what are they? Soldiers? I'm not sure. Not a one of them would have lasted five minutes in my old Company. You train these men?'.

[Drak-Kung can tell that Trulitch is being deliberately unfriendly and insulting. What his aim is (if he has one) is uncertain]
"For the love of God, Montresor!"
"Yes," I said, "for the love of God!" - Edgar Allan Poe, The Cask of Amontillado.

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