Print

Please login or register.
1 Hour 1 Day 1 Week 1 Month Forever
Login with username, password and session length

[Digital Hellhound]

Venarius

The elusive Explorator knows where the most ancient parts of the ship are. The machine spirit could be accessed on the bridge or other central sections, sure, but the most trustworthy and direct route is found at the heart of the ship. The crew and assorted passengers avoid him as he goes, thinking him too strange to talk to and too tough to mug. His perfect memory allows him to keep track of his route and not get lost in the confusing depths of the vessel.

Finally, Venarius finds a satisfying data point near the ancient core. He activates his implants and plugs in.

The experience never quite feels the same. Information floods into Venarius' system, the ship coursing through his veins, the slow thoughts of ancient cogitators and ship systems rolling through him, and above it all, the raging storm of the immortal machine spirit's presence.

Venarius' first attempt at communication is ignored. Machine spirits are not human, and only his implants and teaching let him understand how to 'speak' with it. Even so, it takes him a moment to remember the proper rituals and incantations.

It's not easy to describe their 'conversation'. The machine spirit proves to be one of strong will and a mind of its own, uncomfortably close to the forbidden teachings of Abominable Intelligences, though nothing so sapient. Records of its past flicker in his mind, its glee in destroying fleets of secessionists, heretics and traitors across the years obvious, longing for a time when it fought alongside the Navy. It cares little for the mortals who've inhabited its body since, including the new Captain and her officers.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

I'm using Tech-Use here, but several of those could apply. I guess it doesn't matter.

Rolling against 58, base 48 +10 from combi-tool (even though you're using your implants, go figure).

[48]

Doing a Common Lore (Tech) for good measure. Against 48.

[20]

[Theodolus]

Secreted away in his quarters Xanatov removed his head scarf, exposing his third eye. With a sigh he sank down in to the folds of a rather large and ornate armchair. Letting his site slowly submerge in to the immaterium he began noting the currents and eddies of the local space. This was something of a hobby of his whenever he entered in to a new system. Being aware of the local conditions could help with knowing the best exit route in case of an emergency. More than that though it gave him another sector of space to add to his burgeoning astrograph collection. He was rather proud at the amount of space he had been able to map out by hand, even if the maps were a bit crude.

((Probably Navigation (Warp) (Trained, +10 from Talented)))

[Digital Hellhound]

Xanatov

Still tired from translation, Xanatov finds himself having trouble with getting into focus and look into the Warp. This region of space is unfamiliar to him, its stars strange and hostile, its worlds shrouded from his touch. His Gazmati assistants, gangly pale-skinned men with subtle and not-so-subtle mutations, prove more distracting than helpful, and the confines of his 'hole' in the depths of the ship feel claustrophobic and cold.

It's a miracle he starts on the process at all. But even though the eddies and flickers of the immaterium beneath the distractions of realspace fill his vision, he can make little sense of them. After a few hours of fruitless studying, he has to admit defeat. Completely drained out, Xanatov sleeps most of the journey to the Governor's Station

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

Normal Navigation test, result not secret per page 183 'cos I trust in your in-characterness for the most part. And this isn't really a warp travel roll. Aiming for 48 (base 38, Talented +10).

[76] - two degrees of failure, baww. I'm not cruel enough to give a penalty for warp travel that.

+++

Governor's Station

After two quite eventful days, the little planet hidden against the glaring, bloated sun becomes a larger orb of dull red and vivid patches of green. Fistures and deep canyons seem to run everywhere the crew can see, some flowing with dark water, some empty, ugly black marks in the world's skin. Illuminated against the edge of the planet sits a large utilitarian orbital station, several huge bays allowing for even larger ships to attach themselves into it sticking out from its innards. It looks like it could serve as a dockyard if needed, as well.

The 'Acting Governor' hails the Hound again a few hours from the station. The bridge crew directs it through the bridge comms.

+I am glad to see you again, Miss Toskhain. There is much to tell you. I'm afraid news of your arrival has spread through the subsector. I've already received some messages from quite important people who would like to meet you, and have prepared a summary of current events. There's also a... situation developing on Gehenne. I'm looking into it, but your succession to the 'throne' here may yet take some time. I would be honoured if you and your commanders would join me over dinner once you arrive.+

+++

A while later, the Hound locks into place in the largest of the Governor's Station's docking arms. It's oversized for the frigate, but gilded and ornamented with a vast, sprawling mosaic showing the progress of some military campaign - presumably the crusade that liberated the subsector. Several exquisite images catch the officers' eyes - the Emperor watching over a city being built over the bodies of the dead - rather morbid, Ferran thinks - with 'Unsobar' written underneath it, a vividly-coloured naval battle centered on an enormous space hulk being cut apart by Imperial warships, an impressive column of important personnel crossing the ceiling above, led by an Imperial lord with a halo of gold and a sword wreathed in flames. There's a tall officer some distance behind him with the name 'Toskhain' emblazoned below him - must be some obscure relative. Servo-skulls and servitors cluster at the walls and hang from the ceiling in apparent vacuum.

It is certainly impressive. The crew wonder how it would look like to an inhabitant of feudal Gehenne.

The locks that slam into the frigate are obviously ancient and probably automatic. The crew, mostly following their Void-master's orders and partly Station instructions, shut down void shields and other distracting components. A rather arcane series of incantations and rituals, overseen by the senior machine-priests, allows a narrow corridor to find its way from the depths of the station and fix into the frigate, allowing simply walking into the station.

The marines are ready to perform security detail, the rest of the crew still confined inside the ship before it can be confirmed as safe and if the officers let them out.

Spoiler (click to show/hide)

If there's any specific orders to the marines, do say.

 

[Caellath]

Storing the datapad containing the first reports about the high-ranking officers inside his overcoat, Alexavius strode to the narrow corridor, smirking while doing so. It seemed the efforts of his team had been fairly efficient under his guidance. The Seneschal not only instructed, but also inspired them with his figure.

Preemptively, he had also told them there was no need to try and profile the captain as well; he was well-aware of her problems already and there would be nothing to gain but raising suspicion.

He looked back and stared at his fellow officers and the marines. Leaving the command of the marines to the Arch-Militant was the only sensible thing to do, since he was both a veteran and every knowledgeable man knew you should avoid undermining the authority of the chief of security.

"Where is Ferran?" he asked casually, using the woman's first name and probably startling some of the people nearby.

[adwarf]

Wulfric looked over at the Seneschal and replied, "No clue, but she should be somewhere close at least." Turning away from Alexvauis Wulfric spoke up "Those marines who've agreed to work with me make sure you have all your gear on you, when we arrive you are to form two columns on either side of us, and exit in that formation. Act like true soldiers, and be on the lookout for anything suspicious, if you see something report to me or the Arch-Militant immediately, otherwise take up positions on either side of the room and out of the way until further orders are given. My orders come before the Arch-Militant's once we got on the station, but before then his take precedence so long as it does not interfere with your escorting us." With that he turned back towards the rest of the group, his figure was somewhat accented now by the flamer on a strap across his back, an array of aquila and various adornments cover the flamer, and the shotgun hanging from his side in its holster, in easy reach in case he needed it.

[Bdthemag]

Jericho sighs rubbing the back of his neck, "C-columns? What are we, throwing one big grand parade? A-are you deliberately trying to attract as much attention to us as possible?" Jericho muttered a few incoherent curses under his breath, the continued "I didn't f-fight and get m-maimed countless times in the I-Imperial Guard to have a preacher give the orders to my troops."

[Yoink]

As the Aether Hound neared its destination, Captain Ferran was back in her quarters by a large, brass cage, dressed in some of her fine-yet-practical clothes as she fed biscuit pieces through the shining bars to her parrot, Vedroc.
A gift from a relative a few years back, poor Vedroc had admittedly been rather neglected, having been 'oohed' and 'ahhed' over by the young Ferran for a while before she grew bored of him. The brightly-coloured parrot had ended up in the care of the head cook of the Toskhain Household, where he picked up a frightful assortment of bad words.
Ferran had somewhat guiltily retrieved the bird upon receiving her warrant, feeling every good Rogue Trader needed a familiar of some sort. Vedroc, rather disheveled-looking these days, had for his part been quite mistrustful of his fickle mistress, and rightfully so.
She was busily trying to regain his friendship with a steady supply of tasty biscuit crumbs and the occasional piece of fruit.   

Right now, she needed the bird's cooperation. She desperately wanted to make a good impression on this, her first venture as a Rogue Trader, and had dressed accordingly. A red silk shirt, a pair of decorative gloves, comfortable cotton trousers and a rather incongruous pair of rugged, black lace-up boots formed the base of her outfit, covered by the thick, broad-shouldered jacket of her carapace armour; a bright blue sash draped across her torso to accentuate the brass-coloured metal plate over her right shoulder, proudly bearing the crest of House Toskhain.

Naturally, she fretted ceaselessly over her appearance as she coaxed Vedroc onto one gloved hand, gnawing on her lower lip as she pulled the parrot from his cage. At that moment the voice of Acting Governor Demin Harmann came over the comms.

+...I would be honoured if you and your commanders would join me over dinner once you arrive.+

The young Captain managed to reply quite gracefully, considering she was wracked with nervousness and was currently balancing a grouchy parrot on one hand whilst activating the microbead.
+Of course, Mister Harmann,+ Wait, was she supposed to call him 'mister'? 'Acting Governor' was too much of a mouthful, and besides it sounded as though she was emphasising the fact she was here to take over, and just 'Governor', well, that had the opposite problem. Still, he called her Miss Toskhain, not Captain. She figured it'd be fine. +The honour would be ours.+

She was just considering what else to say when Vedroc, terribly interested in whatever the crackly voice through the speaker was saying, piped up with a choice phrase of vulgar gutter-language, prompting Ferran to hastily sever her end of the connection.
She scowled at the parrot perched upon her wrist, who looked entirely unrepetnant.
"Throne, Vedroc, I hope Harmann didn't hear that!" She deposited the bird on her shoulder, giving him one last, withering look before heading out towards the bridge. "And you had better hope so, too. I'm the one giving you the treats, remember?"

With that, Captain Ferran heads to the bridge((Or wherever the access corridoor to the station goes)), parrot on her shoulder as she uncertainly buckles her weapon belt about her waist, plasma pistol and sword hanging at either hip.
'I hope they don't make me look too... I don't know, unfriendly.'

Putting her silly worries (mostly) aside, she contacts Jericho via micro-bead, observing the docking arm through any view-screens she passes.
"Arch-Militiant, this is the Captain. I'm on my way over now. I was just wondering if you could, well, tell me about all this security business beforehand?"

>Equip parrot and head to the point of disembarkment, have Jericho brief me on the security plan as I go.

[adwarf]

Wulfric turned and glared at the Arch-Militant, his face was a stone slab showing no emotion as he spoke, "We have already established these men will work for me for the duration of our trip to this station, and my subsequent trip to the planet, if I desire to give orders I have every right to once we leave this ship. On this ship they are under your command, but off it they will follow my orders because I will pay them to do so, I do not mean to offend you, but your lack of common sense is admirable if idiotic. The columns are to attract attention, we need to show them that we are organized, strong, and iron willed to, attracting attention is the thing we want to do. Would a normal pirate dare attack a Rogue Trader's vessel when its known the men aboard are battle-hardened veterans and unwavering? This display is to give that impression, we can ward off more foes by attracting attention then we will trying to avoid it. Now I will ask you to leave commands to the soldiers who took this mission to me once we leave this ship, you may be have seen many battles, but trust me I haven seen many more then you in my short years alive. I did not fight my battles with Imperial Guards beside me, those I've fought I did so with a handful of others against far superior odds, I was raised from my birth to lead men to battle in the God-Emperor's name, do not doubt me as if I fell into this job." With that he fell silent once again and waited for Jericho to reply.

[Caellath]

Yawning a bit, Alexavius blended with the shadows, moving away from the heated exchange between both officers and poking his own comms device, opening a private chat with the captain.

"Hello, Miss Ferran." the Seneschal contacted through the micro-bead, using a obviously cheery, if somewhat strangely grim voice. "Our Priest is blatantly undermining the authority of our Arch-Militant. Do you remember about me talking about not having disciplinar issues so far?"

He grinned. "Well, that might change as the marines watch their superior being verbally beaten down by the Priest. Soldiers really don't like when someone of their own kin which has bled and fought for the Emperor is defied."

"The Arch-Militant is closer to the troops in terms of familiarity and recognition, but the Priest is basically trying to shift the balance of power of the soldiers' control towards him, whether he's doing it consciously or not does not matter."

"It would be wise to remind our Priest he can keep the small detachment he convinced to follow him, but the rest of the troops is still under the Arch-Militant's control. Emphasizing the part pertaining the fact Jericho is still in command of the marines - and the only person whose orders he must obey are yours - may be necessary to keep the morale of our troops."

[Bdthemag]

Growing more annoyed at Wulfric, Jericho replied back with a hint of frustration and anger in his voice "F-fine, you can order those men around but you b-better not try to recruit any more of my men to serve whatever purpose you're trying to achieve. This "Grand Display" is g-going to attract attention we don't need, but if you insist on making my job more difficult then it already is, I'll have to adjusts my p-plans accordingly." he paused and taking a deep breath he continued "I d-doubt you have any more experience then I have, you try getting out of over twenty campaigns and countless more b-battles u-unscathed, you don't even know half of w-what it's like to lead."

Jericho looked as if he was going to continue, but suddenly he hears Ferrans voice call to him from his micro-bead. Turning away from the group, he responded to Ferran "Sorry Ma'am, b-but it appears that my original plan is going to b-be instead replaced with the Preachers b-bloody plan. We'll be throwing one big parade it seems, I'll give my orders to the men on the ship and we'll d-depart."

[Caellath]

The Seneschal notes Jericho's defeatist tone...It won't take too long and all of the ship's organization may fall into disarray. He takes his micro-bead and opens a new comms line, this time for Jericho.

"Hello, Arch-Militant Jericho." he quips "Why have you given into the arguments of our resident preacher? I'd think the marines want to be led by one of their own, instead of a preacher who'd rather impose his will by force and by constantly invoking the name of the Holy Emperor and promising material rewards instead of managing things with true leadership."

He continued, his voice serious and trying to make his point be heard. "I want to help you, so I say: allowing the Priest to grow within the ship and do whatever he wants with the troops is a dangerous thing indeed."

"Their lack of real life experiences makes them prone to considering the slightest problem a heresy. You'd not want him commanding your marines, but that will be the way things may end up if your presence isn't affirmed. Giving into his pressure will appear as weakness to the soldiers, who in turn will follow him. It is not only a matter of giving up once, this is allowing him to set a foothold into your area of expertise and territory."

"We are all officials under Captain Ferran, standing at the same ground no matter our previous life achievements, and you should only obey her orders unless she says otherwise. You have more dignity than this and it would be good to prove it, and I shall support you in your efforts."

[adwarf]

Wulfric nodded at Jericho and spoke as he turned back to face the corridor they'd leave through, "Thank you Arch-Militant, your men will be back under your command once we finish our trip to the planet, I plan to recruit men from the planet so as not to have our circles of command overlap like this. It is not good for two commanders to argue at times like this, I just ask you follow my lead for now, a big impression is best to shock any thought of betrayal from those on-board the station, as you know men cling to positions of power when they can get them. I do have some advice however, be more strong willed before others and your men will respect you more for it." Wulfric turned his head and smiled at Jericho for a second before returning to his previous behavior.

[Yoink]

Ferran listened to the seneschal as she walked, a small frown creasing her features. "Uhmm, okay, that doesn't sound..."
She trailed off as Jericho himself replied to her, covering the microbead as she let out a groan. Switching back to Alexavius, she said, "Right. Well. I see what you mean. Do you think it'd be best to deal with this, you know, before we leave the ship? I mean, having these sorts of issues isn't going to make a great impression or anything."

>On a comms channel to the ship's officers: "This is the Captain, could all Officers please meet me for a brief conference before leaving the ship? Thankyou."

>Assemble along with the ship's officers at the entrance of the station's access corridoor, try and work out just what the frack is going on.

[Pandemix]

Elyrion makes his way from the bridge to the acess doors where the ordered security guards are alreading waiting in case something might happen. He checks his equipment again, his flack armor stripped tightly to his body. He checks his chainsword functionality and turns on the powersword energy for a second, aswell as insertin a clip into his bolt pistol pulling the reciever bolt to load it up. As he reaches the captain's position fully geared he nods towards her.

"Greetings Captain. Might I ask what was going on on the comms right there?"

His voice sounds as neutral as always, not more interested as it should be and only slightly concerned, he himself did not really care about the problems of the other officers as long as it wouldn't fuck up his ship crew to a point which would make them combat-ineffective.

[Caellath]

"Yes, they should be dealt with right now. The longer the situation stays as it is, the worse the damage will be." the Seneschal answered, pacing leisurely until he was by the Rogue Trader's side, calmly matching her stride with his own, still talking softly through the micro-bead so only Ferran could hear.

"Our good Priest has just established dominance over our friend Jericho after the latter faltered under the former's asssault. Needless to say, that certainly made an impression on the marines. Now they're more likely to answer him than the Arch-Militant. The preacher is also creating strife with these little discussions of his. Either you cut him off now or we'll be facing trouble...Bigger than the one we have right now, is what I mean."

Alexavius started to roll his pocketwatch around his fingers while they waited for the rest of the officers.
"You should make the position of every officer clear and lightly reprimand our resident Priest, or you may as well surrender the ship to him."