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[Digital Hellhound]

A Family Affair

Chapter I - the Inheritance

+++

'From orbit, Gehenne resembles a fractured orb of sickly green and red. Huge, sprawling fissures run along its surface, visible from space, making up a web of broken rifts reaching nearly every corner of the little world. Dust storms ravage the eastern continent almost perpetually. The clouds are sparse. You could not find a storm even if you waited a hundred years. Its people are simple-minded and petty - I shudder at the thought of staying here. I know my brothers had this position given to me to get me out of their way. I am the true heir of the family. I deserve better than this.

I will have my vengeance.

- Gestus Toskhain, shortly after accepting the Governorship of Gehenne

+++

Ferran Toskhain, directing the aftermath of their exit from the Immaterium on the spartan bridge of the Aether Hound, sees Gehenne only as a distant prick in the void, overshadowed by the bloated sun burning behind it. The bridge crew is busy at work - she glances at the void-master, Elyrion, sternly overseeing the work of two dozen servitors and underlings. The others stand somewhere below or behind her captain's throne - the Astropath Yorke, the strange tech-priest, the Ecclesiarchy whelp and the grim-faced ex-Guardsman Jericho, alongside the Seneschal appointed by her father, Alexavius.

'Starting approach to Gehenne orbit,' she hears one of the navigations crew on their cogitators say below. 'Estimated time of arrival... approximately two days.'

The young Rogue Trader considers this. It's reasonable, especially after several weeks spent in Warp transit. Her new life had barely gotten started when she received word her uncle Gestus had died - leaving her with, apparently, everything. The last time she saw Gestus was as a child. Father had always spoken negatively of Gestus, sounding glad he was 'stuck on a dying backwater on the edge of the world'. Apparently, her uncle was the black sheep of the family, in de facto exile due to... something, something the family did not speak about.

Why he had decided to will her feudal world and small fortune to her was a mystery. The summons had not said much, nor had had any instructions aside from the location of the Gehenne system. Ferran didn't even know if her father and the rest of the family knew yet.

'We are being hailed,' a voice came again. 'Vox from a small station by the planet. Putting it through.'

Without asking for permission, the crewsman manipulated the cogitator controls, whispering his learned incantations to the machine spirits. A static-garbled voice soon broke through to the bridge.

+...this is the Governor's Station. Unidentified vessel, please state your name and purpose in the system. Silence will be met with deadly force. I repeat...+

The vox transmitter facing the Captain's throne was active. Ferran leaned closer to it and thought on what to say.

[Pandemix]

Elyrion stands behind the various control panels of the Aether Hound, overseeing the work of the crew members, arms crossed infront of his chest, as one of them states there is a transmission coming in, his chainsword and powersword are hanging on his side, altough both deactivated and you can see the bolt pistol looking out of the holster on his right leg. As the transmission is completed he looks behind to his Captain.

"Certainly not the most friendly way to greet us, eh?", he says grinningly as he awaits orders on what to do further on.

He looks forward again going to one of the consoles looking over the shoulder of a crewman who is operating the scanners. "Should we run a scan on the planet captain?"

[Caellath]

Leaning against the captain's throne leisurely, Alexavius smirks slightly while adjusting his pistol and boltgun in the holsters. As a good information dealer, he has already heard about Gehenne and the family's black sheep. And as any person with a reasonable common sense and some savviness, he knows that the passing of governorship is a delicate and thorny task and judging from the scenario, complications (also known as trouble) are likely coming their way.

At least the flying tub they are in is big and imposes a little of respect with its build...It must have been lost to the young lady of the Toskhain in a night where the amasec ran as wild as a good speeding hovercar, since few people - even when throughly inebriated - would put a ship on the pile. Even less people would accept they had made such a preposterous bet after the mind-numbing buzz of drugs wore off, but then the young lady probably had the means to enforce her means.

But then again, he has already seen higher stakes during his years as a Seneschal.

"Well, don't keep them waiting for too long." he says, before completing: "There are twitchy defense operators who like to consider a direct attack as a warning shot."

[adwarf]

Wulfric stood straight a few feet from the captain's throne, his hand on the chain-sword at his waist with his finger drumming against the handle repeatedly. He disliked wearing the Ecclesiarchy issued Robes at times like these, the mind of crew members could be stressed at times and this stress could lead to doubt, even straying from the path, and the robes could impede his actions if a traitor was to appear.

He heard Alexavius's comment and replied, "Yes, and there are dumber men who would not send word ahead before hand, no offense meant towards you Lady Toskhain, but our crew should have sent a message ahead to tell or our arrival then perhaps things would be less ... violent then they currently are. On another note Alexavius you seem rather close to Lady Toskhain, perhaps over stepping our bounds are we?"

[Yoink]

Ferran Toskhain, head bowed towards the vox as she gathered her thoughts, declined to answer the various crew-members speaking to her. She was new to this and desperately wanted to get it right.

'Alright,' She thought, chewing her lower lip, 'Need to get this right. Can't have them opening fire on us, but I don't want to sound panicked, either. Need something dignified to say, something-- For feth's sake, Ferran!'
 
She shoved her thoughts aside, took a quick breath and spoke. "This is Ferran Toskhain onboard the Aether Hound; I repeat, Ferran Toskhain onboard the Aether Hound." That sounded good, she decided. "We are um in-bound from Olandis, on," She briefly considered how best to word this, "Business pertaining to the late Governor Gestus Toskhain's succession. Uh, requesting permission to land?"

She clicked off the transmitter and sat back, exhaling heavily. This would take some getting used to. She ran a hand through her auburn hair and glanced between her higher-ranked crewmembers whilst awaiting an answer, raising an eyebrow questioningly.
"How did I do? Too, um, bossy?"

Perhaps she could get a few pointers before the Station on-planet replied... Either by way of words or weaponry.

[adwarf]

Wulfric turned to Lady Toskhain, and raised an eyebrow as he crossed his arms, "A very interesting Rogue Trader this woman is turning out to be. I guess all will be well in the end, Emperor willing." He thought before replying to her, "Lady Toskhain, you are a Rogue Trader as long as you remain within the rights of the charter then your actions are alright, they are powers given to you are on the level of an Inquistor. You could command entire worlds to pledge you an army, and declare wars on forces that dare to appose the God Emperor, the right to be ..."

Wulfric paused and puzzled over the words she had used before continuing, "Um as you put it 'bossy' is yours to do with as you see fit. You are new to being a Rogue Trader, but be aware that the Warrant gives you power and you need to understand that to uphold the views others will put on you as such."

[Bdthemag]

Jericho stood at attention a short distance away from Ferran, occasionally glancing behind his shoulder out of habit. He directed his gaze towards Ferran and the Missionary, "If you'll allow me the permission to give m-my opinion Ma'am, most people don't take too kindly to being bossed around by someone they never met or heard of, otherwise you did fine. Y-you don't really know what bossy is until you've met a commissar."

He looked around again, unconsciously thumbing the las-pistol at his side. "R-regardless, I suggest that we leave the ship fully equipped. It might be a bit of a rude gesture, but you never know when things will all go to bloody hell. Erh excuse me, I mean in case things don't go as expected."

[Pandemix]

Elyrion takes her silence on his question if they should scan the surface as a "no", he raises an eyebrow as she asks her crew if she was twoo "bossy" to the planet and simply only listens to the missionary with one ear, he isn't really into this: Hail the emperor thing as that guy is, surely, the emperor is a god and should be deemed with respect, however, that doesn't justify thinling every good thing in life had been granted to you by him. He smirks at Jericho saying that she doesn't know what bossy is until she met a commisar. "So true...so true. He whispers  , nodding in agreement as he suggests to not leave the ship unequipped.

I support that suggestion Ma'am, it is never a good idea to leave a ship without being ready to face a threat, and if it is only a bandit trying to rob your belongings.

[NobodyPro]

Yorke winced at the mention of commissars. They were indeed bossy- the last one he had seen had still been shouting orders while they used him as a banner. He stayed silent however and continued to clean his autogun.

[Caellath]

A voice came from behind the Rogue Trader's throne as Alexavius, still leaning against the back of Ferran's throne, talked to the Rogue Trader. "You didn't sound too 'bossy', but you do have to avoid stuttering and hesitating. Having power in your hands means you should also handle it properly, and showing weakness may actually bring you troubles in the future, meaning you may not go very far."

"Your next transmission may include the fact you are the captain of this ship, but aside from the minor pauses and hesitations, you didn't make blaring or terrible mistakes."

His voice sounded imposing and controlled, the fruit of his years of time cutting the deals on his favor.

[Yoink]

Ferran stared blankly at the missionary for a moment as he went on about 'power' and 'war' and what-not.
He was an odd one, for sure; his life was seemingly an endless series of sermons and lectures, often blending into one another and dragging on for excruciating lengths of time. To top it off they varied wildly from being wise and sagacious to, like now, missing the point entirely. Ferran supposed that came with the territory, though.
Devoting one's life to spreading the Emperor's word would doubtless make anyone a little strange. Someone had to keep the crew faithful, after all.

She turned towards Jericho as he spoke, relieved to hear some sense, even if he did stutter a bit. The once-guardsman was another anamoly; usually men in his career were gruff, dour sorts, given to drinking heavily and causing trouble, like the soldiers and such who caused trouble in the spaceports back home from time-to-time.
Jericho however seemed to bear little resemblance to Ferran's idea of a veteran.

She nodded to him. "Well, thankyou. I wouldn't have asked for an opinion if I didn't expect one, right?" She smiled a bit, an expression which faded equally quickly as she watched his edgy, uncomfortable demeanour. Her attempt at levity had fallen rather flat.
"Um... At ease, Arch-Militant." 'Was that the right thing to say? It sounded right. Yeah, I'll go with it.'

Ferran was just thinking this over when Alexavius chimed in from right behind her seat. She leaned an elbow against the throne's arm-rest and listened closely, for the Seneschal seemed to be quite a knowledgable fellow himself. No blaring or terrible mistakes? What a relief.
"Well, I'm glad, then. I'll bear all that in mind." Inwardly she was a little put-off by his tone, not to mention his evaluation of her comms message(she hadn't really stuttered, had she?!), but she could hardly argue the point with one of the most experienced members of her staff. He probably had a point, anyway, if she was honest with herself.

Having answered the lurking seneschal, Ferran nodded again to both the Jericho and the Void-Master, Elyrion, at the suggestion of leaving the ship armed. She felt a tad bit uncertain about the idea, though. To be honest, the obsessive way most of her officers seemed to fidget with their various weaponry-- Jericho, Wulfric, the Astropath busily maintaining his rifle, and even Alexavius standing somewhere right behind her-- made  the young Captain rather uneasy. It seemed as though the lot of them were practically itching for some unfortunate gang of 'bandits' to come at them, if only for a chance to put their arsenals to use.
She sighed inwardly. This was why her father had hired them, after all. A Rogue Trader needed such people in their employ.
'Having a band of trigger-happy madmen following me around sure beats getting robbed and killed somehow, after all,' she told herself.

"We-ell... Nothing to do now but wait, I guess. And hope I haven't pissed them off."
She shrugged, feeling mildly uncomfortable with everyone looking to her for orders. She still wasn't used to that. She waved to a passing staff member.
"Go grab me my, er, sword, would you? And my plasma pistol. Oh, and bring Vedroc along, too," She said, referring to her pet parrot, who was kept in her quarters along with her sword, pistol and several casks of fruit punch she had been told contained alchohol. She still hadn't forgiven her father for tricking her onto a 'dry ship'.
She felt certain she'd make a better Captain with a quart of amasec in her belly.

>Wait nervously for a response.
>At Jericho's suggestion, have a faceless lackey go grab my weapons and parrot.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Goddamn, what a wall of text. This is what it means to be Rogue Trader, isn't it? You type til your fingers bleed?!

[adwarf]

"Now that we have over seen this little interaction I will take my leave Lady Toskhain, I have a few crew-members who usually make their way to the chapel right about now, and I must be there for guidance and prayer before we go off ship." Wulfric said before grasping the hilt of his chain-sword once more and bowing his head slightly in the Rogue Trader's direction before turning and making his way out of the bridge. As he made his way towards the God-Emperor's Chapel his mind began to wander, "First matter of business is to go to the Chapel and offer some guidance to those there before my prayers, after that I'll need to recruit two or three of the crewmen to act as my escort for a trip down to the planet, I must appraise the local worship and that of the station's to assure nothing has strayed from the path Jasguv put it on."

Go to the God-Emperor's Chapel on the ship and offer guidance to those there before spending a few minutes to pray.
Attempt to recruit three of the more zealous of the crew to act as my guards for the duration of my off-ship visit to the station an the planet.
Gather my weapons, and with my new guards in tow head to where we will be entering the station from.

[Bdthemag]

Clearing his throat, Jericho speaks again "Now Ma'am I'll h-have to go a bit more into the security plan for when we exit the vessel. I am requesting that I stay by your s-side most of the time we are on the planet if you'll allow me, if anyone tries to fire upon you f-for any reason I must be there to make sure you are not hit." Remembering the mention of her Plasma pistol he adds "Also, I suggest t-that you be very...selective when firing your Plasma Pistol, I've seen those t-things blow up instead of fire plenty of times."

[Caellath]

After a few moments, the soft-footed figure of the Seneschal slipped from behind Ferran's throne and moved to stand by her side, entering the Rogue Trader's field of vision, a calm smile on his lips as he adjusted the pince-nez on the bridge of his nose. Both his boltgun and Inferno Pistol were nowhere to be seen. He knew the constant display of weapons in front of his peers could cause troubles, especially due to the fact one of his weapons was as expensive as it was deadly at short ranges. Learning from common sense and experience, Alexavius didn't need much to start only tending to his equipment in the shadows and appearing unarmed to whoever saw him, both weapons safely hidden in his coat.

"Do you have any relevant information from your uncle aside from what I was told already?"

His voice drops to a lower level with practiced ease.

"I do know is that he was granted governorship of this planet only as means of getting rid of him, since he is considered a black sheep. There are some rumours floating around the underworld, but...let's assume they are just rumours for now."

[Digital Hellhound]

All

The lag in vox traffic gives the crew plenty of time to discuss before the Captain's reply is acknowledged, and some more before any real response comes through. A hushed voice speaks to the side on the other end, and is, after a momentary burst of static, replaced by another, a deeper, male one.

+This is Acting Governor Demin Harmann, serving as regent due to the passing of Governor Gestus Toskhain. You have permission to dock, Aether Hound,+ the voice says stiffly. There's a slight pause and it returns much more relaxed. +Ah... excuse the formalities. They are a necessity to a man of my position. Miss Toskhain - welcome home. We have been expecting you.+

There's another pause generated by vox lag before the man continues.

+I'm afraid you've arrived at a rather bad time, miss. I'd rather tell you in person, but it may be best you hear the news immediately, so you can still turn back if you wish. You may not know the history of the subsector. I'll spare you the details. Suffice to say, it has been barely a century since these worlds were still inhabitated by pirates and traitors, strange as that sounds. The Travician Crusade drove them to the Expanse, but... we've received a message - an astropathic signal that swept across our worlds and burned out half of our choir. The descendants of these traitors have allied themselves with the powers of Chaos, and aim to launch a full-scale 'invasion' of the subsector.+

+I expect them to be dealt with quickly enough, but this attack may still prove of some danger to your person, miss. If you wish me to find the next eligible heir and turn back, I understand. The people of Gehenne will not hold it against you.+

With that, the 'Acting Governor' stops and waits for a reply in silence, his laboured breathing coming faintly over the static.

+++

Wulfric

Hearing enough, the Missionary marches off the bridge. The frigate is small for an Imperial warship, but its vast halls and crisscrossing utility corridors, much more plain and spartan than the former, make navigation without a map or instructions difficult. Whole communities live in the depths, professional crew and assorted rabble picked up from ports of call alike. One could get lost there for hours, maybe days. Wulfric knows that larger vessels, tens of thousands of years old, contain even stranger dwellers, primitive tribes lost in forgotten sections of the ship, bands of mutants and madmen roaming maintenance tunnels and unused piping, out of sight underneath the feet of the crew and armsmen. Warp travel makes such places even more dangerous.

On the Hound, however, these places are safely out of his path. The chapel is located just by the sprawling observation deck, a short walk away. Though the ship is unfamiliar to him, one of the first things he'd done coming aboard was to memorize the route. Wulfric's feet take him there even when his mind is preoccupied. The armsman at the door salutes as he passes.

The chapel is a simple domed chamber, devoid of gold or noticeable ornamentation, but with a statue of the God-Emperor, easily three metres from the base, dominating the space. It's not the only chapel on the ship, but it is the largest. A stocky quartermaster Wulfric knows is called Samon is kneeling over the body of a crewsman, facing the statue, deep in prayer. A few dozen low-ranking members of the crew wait behind him, a few shuffling awkwardly. Some of them seem to panic as Wulfric enters.

Samon notices this too and breaks his prayer abruptly, standing up somewhat redfaced. Before Wulfric can say anything, he rushes to explain.

'I'm sorry, Missionary. I should've heard you coming. I was just performing what I know of the final rites to young Jain there. He took his own life during translation. Warp-madness, I think. I know I'm not a learned man, Missionary, but i- it's just that there aren't many real priests of the Ministorum like yourself on the ship, Missionary, and I- I thought I should do something for him. I meant no disrespect.'

The rest of his 'congregation' look like they'd want to flee more than anything. No doubt they know of the reputation some of the Ecclesiarchy have.