Print

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

[_DivideByZero_]

Spoiler: The Rogue Trader and his most trusted crew (click to show/hide)

Aseaharu the Battlefleet Voidmaster
Caellath the Frontier Voidmaster
Devastator the Imperial Seneschal
Gigalamesh Despair the Deathworld Explorator
HighEndNoob the Imperial Missionary
Sirus the Voidborn Astropath Transcendant
Stirk the Nobel Born Rouge Trader
Tiruin the Battlefleet Navigator
WunderKatze the Deathworld Archmilitant

OOC Thread


Our story begins at Cadmus research station on the edge of the Koronus Expanse.

Up in the night sky, in the cold embrace of the intergalactic void, a new star had appeared. It was in the constellation of Delphinus, near the Asigoth Cluster (known under the old starmaps under the pale, soulless title of NGC 7006). However, because even light would take centuries to travel the vast expanse of space the true event was only observed roughly two-hundred years after-the-fact. Due to the uncertainty of the system's current state, and the overall remoteness of the system, the system was never investigated for decades.

It was only when a research station, nestled on the edge of the Koronus Expanse, found evidence linking the appearance of the star system with a shockwave in the warp recorded by an Astropathic Choir two-hundred years past. The events coincided perfectly with each other--too closely to be an accident. The system was now worthy of a name, and the academics called it Animus.
The new system now seemed worth investigating. Furthermore, perched right on the edge of the Asigoth Cluster, it would provide a gateway to the cluster which heretofore had never been explored, largely due to a lack of stimulus to attract attention. It could have been a barren, empty cluster, for all anyone knew, prior to the discovery of Animus. Hundreds of thousands of stars awaited a closer look.


The Indecent Proposal, moored at the station's dock, unloads her crew; servitors load cargo, supplies, and machinery. Meanwhile, the Rogue Trader and his crew prepare to flee the dreary and lifeless workings of the voidship platforms and make their way onto the lift, which would take them up to the station concourse, past the observation deck where arrays of telescopes and communicators (used to command more telescopes) abound. The surrounding windows offer a glimpse into the vast machineries at the station's disposal, as well as a vehicle for managers to supervise everything at once, for there is nowhere on this station hidden from line-of-sight save for the upper floor. Banks of cogitators run at full blast, processing colossal streams of data gathered from the stars. A local astropathic choir listens for disturbances in the warp, hoping that one day their efforts will be expounded upon by light of future evidence.

The upper levels are inhabited by academics of all stripes and colors. A rather muted bunch, it takes a special sort of person to tolerate a life of remote solitude here in the depths of space. The resident Magos Explorator and his host of mechanicus dwell here, in addition to about a dozen astrographs and a historian named Selos Dynamerom.

[Caellath]

Most people would think someone who's came from a life on a barren, backwater frontier world and who spent most of his life piloting wheeled vehicles wouldn't be a good fit for the void. Whoever thought that way had never met Tres "Tork" Tarkin and his excitement whenever he steered the Indecent Proposal. Voidships were the fastest things he'd ever piloted by far, with raiders being almost obscenely speedy. It was easy to notice his eagerness as he plugged his MIU into the Indecent's helm and proceeded to pilot it with a few maniac maneuvers that went mostly unperceived by the crew thanks to the ship's artificial gravity.

Now out of the ship's bridge and with his feet back on something that wasn't a fast vehicle, Tork was more contained, which didn't mean he didn't keep an eye out for any sign of small vehicles the adepts or Mechanicus could use to move about the station. "Any grav-things around, maybe?" he wondered aloud.

[GiglameshDespair]

The oversized, red-robed form of the Magos Biologis Camilla CT-42 shot a curious look at Sanic Tarkin as he spoke.
The genemodded techpriestess towered over the rest of the party, so she had to look down at him. One brow was slightly raised on the alabaster face above the brass mask over her lower face.
She'd fitted it in case she encountered the resident Magos. She didn't want to be impolite, after all. It added a slightly tinny reverb to her voice as she talked.
"+Define 'grav-things', voidmaster-pilot. I assume you do not refer to the grav-plating underneath us.+"
She too was glancing around, though in a more relaxed and seemly manner. Biologis or not, she was still a techpriest, and the sensor arrays of a station like this interested her on a professional level.

[Caellath]

"Nah, I mean skim-vecs. You know, those." he replied to the towering Biologis by his side while moving his hand in a quick motion as if to mimic a land-speeder, his quick pace more than making up for their height difference. He didn't dislike the machine-flesh woman, or the other machine-flesh woman either for that matter. Sure he was in favor of making modifications to vehicles that many tech-priests would have him executed for, but the machine-people he'd started working with ever joining the Indecent Proposal were more unorthodox and accommodating, to the point he didn't just stare suspiciously at them like he'd done to most red-robed priests ever since he'd left his homeworld.

[Stirk]

Our glorious Rogue Trader had decided on a simpler outfit for planet-fall, his peaked cap alongside a dull uniform decorated only with his family crest. While there are many who appreciate impressive and gaudy displays among the research inclined, his reading of the station indicated the inhabitants preferred simple and practical to complicated and expensive. The suit emits just as much power as a more noble garb, aided by the multiple servants swarming the ship handing him the occasional data-slate to glance over.

"Perhaps. The rarest if goods oft finds itself in the strangest of places. Speaking of, if anyone wishes for any gear of Imperial make you should search for it here. Its possible the sole gift of the Imperium to this young star is its name-a shame on that. Had we the opportunity to brand it ourselves, it would strengthen our claim to the cluster beyond."

[Sirus]

The ship's head astropath was absolutely ecstatic to be back in the void again. While not exactly agoraphobic, Maxwell Prescott had never felt entirely comfortable under open sky. It seemed faintly unnatural, even though the overwhelming majority of humanity seemed to get along fine without pressurized bulkheads, looming ceilings, or localized grav discontinuities.

That wasn't to say that Maxwell didn't hold a few reservations about contracting on with a rogue trader. Still, a strange ship was better than no ship at all, and it was all the psyker could do to not transmit his pleasure to the entire concourse. Guided by his enhanced senses, he approached his employer.

"I confess this is my first time out this way, Captain. What sort of variety do the markets here offer?"

[Stirk]

The ship's head astropath was absolutely ecstatic to be back in the void again. While not exactly agoraphobic, Maxwell Prescott had never felt entirely comfortable under open sky. It seemed faintly unnatural, even though the overwhelming majority of humanity seemed to get along fine without pressurized bulkheads, looming ceilings, or localized grav discontinuities.

That wasn't to say that Maxwell didn't hold a few reservations about contracting on with a rogue trader. Still, a strange ship was better than no ship at all, and it was all the psyker could do to not transmit his pleasure to the entire concourse. Guided by his enhanced senses, he approached his employer.

"I confess this is my first time out this way, Captain. What sort of variety do the markets here offer?"

"Not much, I must confess. We may find some simple supplies the locals can spare, but don't await anything more uncommon than an old medkit or other such trivialities."

[Egan_BW]

Lyra follows Tristan silently, her Mechadendrite clutching her Eviscerator behind her back like an overly complicated and advanced scabbard. She's a new addition to the Rogue Trader's crew, and really doesn't want to piss her new boss off by speaking before getting a bear on the social situation here.

Never hurts to be a little paranoid. Use both my inbuilt auger and my servoskull's auspex to scan around for anything, you know, suspicious.
Also see if I can locate a hover-thingy.

[Sirus]

Probably no hope of xenos tech then. A pity.

Maxwell decides to check with the local Astropaths for news on the mysterious new star.

[Devastator]

Sub is quiet as usual, and is watching over the routine loading and unloading operations that occur upon any stationfall.  Subitaneus Soleil is no longer a young man, and has an apperance of mid-forties and a slight paunch from fine living.  He is around average height, with a round, fleshy face and a subdued chin, but his strong walrus mustache, severely combed hair, and monocle mark him as a figure of importance nonetheless.  He is wearing a bespoke suit with a cashmere waistcoat and a silk tie.

[Stirk]

Tristan hands a subordinate the data-slate in his hands, walking forward with confident steps.

"We are here for a reason, and I see no gain in lingering any longer than necessary. Feel free to attend with me if you desire, otherwise consider this shore leave. There is hardly much here to amuse yourselves with, but you can at least stretch your legs a bit"

Go to the lift, then go see the thinky boys.

[HighEndNoob]

Lucius was glad to be out of the harsh hull of the Indecent Proposal. The station seemed much more lively compared to the quiet, focused atmosphere aboard the voidship. Well, as quiet as a crew of 30,000 traveling through the demon-infested warp can get, anyway. After spending most of the trip in prayer, the noise and bustling of the facility was a welcome relief. Clad in his usual white ecclesiarchical robes, he spent the lift ride thinking while looking through the windows at the machinery inside, impressed at the effort being spent to search for anything around Animus.

The builders of this station seem very intent on finding something in the void around the new star, though I can't help but worry for them. The void is full of horrors man is not meant to find. Are the people here prepared to meet whatever they may find? Emperor protect them if they aren't.

Eh, I'm probably just being paranoid. Most likely there's nothing notable there, and certainly nothing that can't be dealt with relatively easily.

[WunderKatze]

Raioyris hovers about, giving his surroundings the death world stare.

Time to snoop about and listen to bandying researchers.

[_DivideByZero_]

Lyra follows Tristan silently, her Mechadendrite clutching her Eviscerator behind her back like an overly complicated and advanced scabbard. She's a new addition to the Rogue Trader's crew, and really doesn't want to piss her new boss off by speaking before getting a bear on the social situation here.

Never hurts to be a little paranoid. Use both my inbuilt auger and my servoskull's auspex to scan around for anything, you know, suspicious.
Also see if I can locate a hover-thingy.

[Tech Use, +10 (GC), +10 (Assistance)]

Lyra has a difficult time picking out abnormal wave emissions over the electromagnetically noisy environment, thanks to all of the cogitators. The workers ferry cargo across the ground floor like ants, but what they actually carry is dataslates numbering in the thousands, storing aggregated data from the telescope arrays in the vicinity of the station.

Raioyris hovers about, giving his surroundings the death world stare.

Time to snoop about and listen to bandying researchers.

Raioyris disconnects himself from the party and listens to some artless researchers discussing the concept of servitors functioning as navigators. To the affirmative, one describes the advantages it would present to trade; the other, wary of issuing a shallow accusation of heresy, merely brings up the demerits of obtaining such servitors, rather than criticizing the possibility.

Tristan hands a subordinate the data-slate in his hands, walking forward with confident steps.

"We are here for a reason, and I see no gain in lingering any longer than necessary. Feel free to attend with me if you desire, otherwise consider this shore leave. There is hardly much here to amuse yourselves with, but you can at least stretch your legs a bit"

Go to the lift, then go see the thinky boys.

At the end of the line, the group is approached by men and women in white robes and vests, bringing with them their own hosts of servitors, who look and seem more machine than man. Despite that, these servitors seem to possess a bizarre grace acting as butlers and servants, while at the same time some of them even look to be taking notes and working through calculations on notebook paper.

After a round of introductions and praise, the most eminent of the group steps forward and invites you to further discussion in the dining hall.
"I must apologize for the lackluster greeting. We are honored by the fact that you wish to investigate our findings, and rest assured we will do all that we can to assist you to the best of our ability."
He looks to his companions.
"That said, do you wish to discuss these matters over dinner?"

Probably no hope of xenos tech then. A pity.

Maxwell decides to check with the local Astropaths for news on the mysterious new star.

An Imperial space station is a winding labyrinth of passageways and tunnels. It's quite easy to get lost if you don't know your way. Fortunately, Maxwell is used to these sorts of arrangements. The same cannot be said for those born on planets, suddenly thrust into a dark, directionless maze with no clear path.

Maxwell finds himself beholding an immensely tall chamber with no ceiling as far as a human eye could see. Within are the coterie of Astropaths, reviewing starcharts and redrawing timelines of major warp phenomena, all the while chanting orisons.

The custodian and his battle-servitors at the entrance give pause. "Who goes there?" asks he, unable to make out Maxwell's features in the darkness.

[Sirus]

Maxwell lowers his hood, revealing the blank spot where his eyes once were.

"A brother to those you guard, humble custodian. My name is Prescott. I have just arrived aboard a trader's vessel and I wished to meet with my fellows."