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[Egan_BW]

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[Lenglon]

"Thank you."
Indaria intends to wait on the lander during the talks, and is going to check for anything spooky when they land, before the people going to the talks leave.

"Hey, while you're shopping, could you try to find some good Pressure Carapace srmor? It's too easy to poke holes in a voidsuit and we could be in a boarding action with that station later on."
Attempt to requisition a few Pressure Carapace Armor (good) sets for the command crew.

[Caellath]

The matter of the station was a troubling one.

"The station packed with heretics is a problem. Were the mission destroying it, things would be much simpler. But the objective is acquiring items, and I would also like to destroy the filth in the process. However, even making them fight amongst themselves would require some influence from us."

"So we must come up with a plan of action that keeps us from being exposed to heresy. Posing as rivals to strike at the interests of each group until they begin warring, or doing so via secretly paid proxies such as pirates? Acquiring relevant intel and spreading misinformation from a distance, maybe sending a third party to the station to stoke the heretics into infighting?"

Maybe Marco talked a bit too much, but if he couldn't trust his closest officers then he might as well not have them; not only that, it was his opinion that in these hard times it was even more important to keep the Dynasty's soul safe from the predations of heresy.

Spoiler: OOC/Rolls (click to show/hide)

Just stating we're probably ready for the meeting with the Governor-General.

[Lenglon]

"You're overthinking it. Chaos fights itself nearly as much as it fights others. All it takes is to give a rival an opening. Don't even gotta coordinate. That eldar jester knew sumthin bout the internal politics o the station right? We should get the details when we're finishin up here. That sorc has gotta have rivals. Tellem they gonna ave an opinin n tuh gettim."
Indaria paused for a moment, fixing her enunciation of words.
"You also could just tell the sorcerer that their rival's got a weak spot and take what we want while he's busy taking advantage of it, though that's less good. The sorcs usually have their head on straighter than most. It'll likely be easier to get whoever's in charge of the station to take out a threat to their power than to get the sorcerer to bite off more than he can chew. Could even just put a bunch of hints out there every which way and see what you catch. All the infighting just helps us in the end."

[Caellath]

Lord-Captain Guerra listened, though his face twitched a bit. As appreciative as he was of Indaria's insight, the amount of knowledge she had was as helpful as it was worrying. Sure he had been given at least some guarantee of her skills and loyalty since it'd been an acolyte of the Ordos who spoke well of her service, but it was a bit hard to forget old habits. Especially Schola and Commissariat-related ones.

"I see. The less exposure we have to chaos cultists without the intent of killing them all the better, so the former is better than the latter. The less we have to deal with their ilk the better."

"And helpful as the information you have is, we might need to talk more of your past sometime in the near future."

[Egan_BW]

I'm IC observing the Raptor Wrangling mission, and thus collapsing the wavefunction.

After attending to vital business such as charting the warp route, the Seer retires to her chambers and requisitions a bunch of cat-themed pillows and blankets as a way of cooling off after experiencing the Warp. Hiding under a pillow fortress, she uses her dataslate to gently probe the local 'net. Text based communication is helpful, considering that it can't reveal her identity to the vile apes.

Dinosaurs are neat, and part of her heritage, kinda maybe. Acquisitioning one or more of the beasts could prove useful.

Having located an opportunity, she decides to contact the... rather adorable Head of Security for backup. (That title seems anachronistic. wouldn't Imperials tend to call such a position "Primus Defenderizer" or "Main Heretic Tenderizer" or such? "Head of Security" has a sort of old timey Dark Age of Technology ring to it.)
Text communications would be ideal... yes, wouldn't want to call her...

Dearest most honorable Head of Security and such,

I have located an opportunity to acquisition one or more of this planet's savage creatures for our own usage. Humbly requesting a security detail to accompany me with "wrangling" some "dinosaurs". Seeing as my own subordinates aren't suited to such fieldwork. Also requesting the assistance of a survivalist.

(Perhaps you'd enjoy this "shore leave"? Not in the fortress itself, so it should be fairly safe. I would appreciate your presence.)

Humble regards. """"Kedia""""

[Lenglon]

"Sure. Whenever you want."

On it.

never mind the stand around and do nothing in a lander plan, I'll check for if anything has me spooked while we're up here, and then assuming I don't notice anything then once the lander is prepared I'll set up to go down for our navigator's dinosaur hunt.
could be fun to go hunting, and Guerra should be safe in his meeting.

[Stirk]

Governor Team

Without further delay, you load into the lander with your armsmen. And possibly your astropath. It is possible they just bumped into something too hard back in the Warp. Your feline guardian gets a message and decides to exit the lander after a cursory examination to make sure there where no hidden explosives or Eldar designed bugs, while the Lord Captain and Senechal take up comfortable seating next to each other. Your personal driver briefly talks with the local aircraft control and you launch into the void.

As one would expect the fortress looks even bigger up close. It is shaped like a ziggeraut with terraced levels with a rockcrete wall separating each making ground invasion impossible. You can make out industrial, residential, and many military facilities from the sky. Most are covered in defensive weaponry and built like bunkers. Several miles on each level are dedicated to ICBM launchers that are likely meant to drive away Void Ships in addition to supporting ground forces outside the fortress. Overall it is likely that they outgun the Ark Royal by a significant amount simply by having a much greater scale. The airspace above the fortress is busy with combat craft flying from location to location - likely the reasoning behind restricting airspace given the high volume of anti aircraft weaponry below you could make short work of any hostile aircraft.

Before long you are taken to the highest point, the fortress's spire at the center of the ziggeraut. Your assigned LZ is somewhat below the armored tower, but a simple five minute walk to an elevator fixes that. Guards solute you as you pass by. They're wearing flackgrass armor as the advertisements had suggested, with headwraps of the same material. Both are dyed gold with decorative peach trees sewn into the material. The locals are dark skinned and clean shaven. They're also visibly large and more muscular than your own armsmen suggesting there is some truth to the belief about peaches - though perhaps this is simply because the Governor General picked the strongest for his own defense.

The Elevator opens silently into the "penthouse" office. Two guards stand by the door looking inward. The Governor General is sitting at a desk doing paper work with two servants on either side. Seeing you he stands and waves you in, armsmen and all.

"Thank you for coming on such short notice." At his full height, he is just as mighty as his guards. His voice is deep but deliberately soft. His outfit is similar to his guards, but is gelted with real gelt and has the addition of silver stars above the peach tree. He gives a surprisingly gentle handshake to everyone who entered, starting with the Lord Captain and finishing with the armsmen. He then motions his servants forward. Two bring forth a silver platter, one with pre-cut peaches the other with iced tea (presumably made with peach leaves). They offer it to the guests with a bow.

"I was informed of your delay and apologize as Governor General of Rook's Crown. It is my duty to keep such things from happening and it seems I have been shirking."

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"Thank you."
Indaria intends to wait on the lander during the talks, and is going to check for anything spooky when they land, before the people going to the talks leave.

"Hey, while you're shopping, could you try to find some good Pressure Carapace srmor? It's too easy to poke holes in a voidsuit and we could be in a boarding action with that station later on."
Attempt to requisition a few Pressure Carapace Armor (good) sets for the command crew.

Seeing the Eldar shopping, you decide to send them shopping for something that (if available) would be on the other side of the planet from what they're shopping for. What a task master!

While there are some voidsuits available for the fighters and bombers of the fortress, they're mostly to avoid the forces involved with high-velocity flight and assume that anything that breaches will probably kill the occupant. There are, however, a good many tailors both in the fortress and lands surrounding it. It would perhaps be possible to find one willing to modify a void suite or to make an armored version from scratch. Failing even that, you could at least have them make flackgrass patches that can easily seal a breach.

((26. If you didn't get greedy you'd have one ))

I'm IC observing the Raptor Wrangling mission, and thus collapsing the wavefunction.

After attending to vital business such as charting the warp route, the Seer retires to her chambers and requisitions a bunch of cat-themed pillows and blankets as a way of cooling off after experiencing the Warp. Hiding under a pillow fortress, she uses her dataslate to gently probe the local 'net. Text based communication is helpful, considering that it can't reveal her identity to the vile apes.

Dinosaurs are neat, and part of her heritage, kinda maybe. Acquisitioning one or more of the beasts could prove useful.

Having located an opportunity, she decides to contact the... rather adorable Head of Security for backup. (That title seems anachronistic. wouldn't Imperials tend to call such a position "Primus Defenderizer" or "Main Heretic Tenderizer" or such? "Head of Security" has a sort of old timey Dark Age of Technology ring to it.)
Text communications would be ideal... yes, wouldn't want to call her...

Dearest most honorable Head of Security and such,

I have located an opportunity to acquisition one or more of this planet's savage creatures for our own usage. Humbly requesting a security detail to accompany me with "wrangling" some "dinosaurs". Seeing as my own subordinates aren't suited to such fieldwork. Also requesting the assistance of a survivalist.

(Perhaps you'd enjoy this "shore leave"? Not in the fortress itself, so it should be fairly safe. I would appreciate your presence.)

Humble regards. """"Kedia""""

Sure that might as well happen. Keeps me from writing seven paragraphs I guess.

Wranging Team

You load up into a secondary lander and launch toward the opposite end of the planet. Aside from the fortress the land is still very beautiful. There are biomes of every type that you pass by toward your goal. Forests and bogs with unique trees, snowy hills and frozen lakes filled with roaming mammoths, picturesque fields that seem to go on forever. Even works of men like the flackgrass fields have a certain beauty to them. Still before long you are in the spartan landing of a small village. Little more than a rockcrete landing pad with the starship equivalent of a gas station next to it.

Leaving the lander you're greeted by a mounted team of what must be warriors. Each is riding their own dragon as if showing off. Two are on your targeted Raptor, another is riding a creature with the appearance of a crocodile, the eldest is riding a massive beast who's head starts where yours ends. Each are wearing flackcloth coats painted in green and black tiger-stripped cammo pattern. Including the dragons barring the crocodile who is embarrassingly naked. All the humans have painted more camouflage on their exposed faces.

The chief clicks his tongue and his massive dragon sits on the ground. He dismounts as easily as someone without a cat tail would dismount a chair. He is equipped with what must be a Dominator pattern plasma gun in a holster and a leaf-shaped lance on his back. All the rest of the warriors are equipped with bolos, lasguns, and a long knife.

"Welcome to our small ranching village! How goes your family?" He moves forward and offers both of you a gentle handshake. His greeting continues long after this is answered, inquiring of your health, how business goes, how the weather is treating you, and how your coworkers are doing. Those following him seem to be more content with a simple handshake.

"Too bad about your timing. If you had come but a few days earlier we would still have hatchlings to sell. Once a warrior has bonded with a dino, they would sooner part with a leg then their companion. You'd have to offer something as valuable as their own life to make that kind of deal. But you honor us by joining in a dino roping!"

He looks truly proud to have off-worlders visit his small village. This seems infectious to the other warriors. "Dino" seems to be local tongue for "Dragon".

"There are many techniques for catching a wild dino, depending on what equipment you have and who you are targeting. It is much simpler once you have your own mount, but many young warriors see it as honorable to catch there own mount on foot. Especially those too poor to buy their own. Do you have any experience that would give you a preference for technique?"

[Egan_BW]

The Eldar assumes a "southern drawl" accent, slowing down her speech and slurring in an effort to fit in among the primitive creatures known as "man". Nevertheless a genuine smile forms on her face, though hidden behind a helmet.

How goes your family?

I haven't seen them in some time, and in these dark times it's easy to be pessimistic about their chances. However, there are reasons to be hopeful, as well.

inquiring of your health

I was wounded on the journey; nothing lasting or unexpected.

how business goes

It remains to be seen!

how the weather is treating you

Quite well, with pressurized armor.

how your coworkers are doing.

They aren't complaining overmuch, which is a good sign.

"There are many techniques for catching a wild dino, depending on what equipment you have and who you are targeting. It is much simpler once you have your own mount, but many young warriors see it as honorable to catch there own mount on foot. Especially those too poor to buy their own. Do you have any experience that would give you a preference for technique?"

"Mah colleague is likleh more familiah wit suhtch matturs than me. Ahm moar accuinted wif tha matter of makin' bipeds cold, ifn' ye understand."

(Telekinesis MIGHT be handy here but humans get touchy about magical powers.)

[Stirk]

"Mah colleague is likleh more familiah wit suhtch matturs than me. Ahm moar accuinted wif tha matter of makin' bipeds cold, ifn' ye understand."

(Telekinesis MIGHT be handy here but humans get touchy about magical powers.)

"Arn't we all, arn't we all!" If anyone noticed your inhuman voice between your helmet and your attempts to hide it, then they politely decided not to let it show on their faces. Or you're really bad at reading human faces. Lets hope for the first one.

The chief returns to his dragon and opens a pack. He pulls out a length of rope tied to lead balls. He brings it back over and offers it to you with both hands.

"Throwing this at a dino isn't too much different than shooting someone once you get the hang of it. We use flackgrass to make ropes here. It is so strong it can even hold a Rex if you have the right technique, so they say. Take it as our gift to you."

It is a bola, made of white undyed flackgrass. The ropes are longer then what you have seen of such human weapons in the past, at full length the weapon is as tall as a man. It is probably designed to be used from dragon back. It seems these humans have advanced from the stone age and managed to add some simple metal to the primitive weapon, at the end of each of the four ropes there is a lead ball that fits in the palm of your hand attached by drilling a hole through the ball and pushing the rope through.

[[Flackgrass Bolas: As Bolas, weight .75 looses Primitive quality.

....Primitive quality does nothing on Bolas so that is just for fun.]]

"Bold warriors who favor straightforward tactics use this to catch their dinos. With this tactic we place some bait and you wait in a bush nearby. When the dinos come for the bait you pick your target and tangle up their feet. This old girl comes in and scares the rest of the Raptors away."

He points to his own dragon.

"Then you have a choice. Most decide to break their dinos at this point. It is important that you break the dino you will use yourself, wild dinos are much more picky about their riders than those raised in a ranch. That is why we brought you out here. You hop on its back while it is restrained, then you must stay on while it tries to force you off. If you stay on until it exhausts itself it will accept you as its rider and you will have made the first step at taming it. Otherwise you must force it into a cage. It will remain wild until someone breaks it, so one must be careful when caging a Raptor."

[Caellath]

Lord-Captain Guerra's mind wandered as the lander left the Ark, his eyes half-focused on the world below and half-trained on something within his thoughts. Ever since he'd been exposed to that... thing, he'd surely become more aloof. Less focused.

Watching the planet from above, the captain drummed his fingers on his pistol's holster before speaking up. "Looking at the atmosphere reminds me. When I was younger I thought planets had void shields and that the short, green vegetation over the ground was just some sort of carpet laid upon the world's floor. How things change..."


Voidborn are tall. Freakishly tall in some cases. Guerra is quite tall as well, and as part of Battlefleet stock he's also thicker than most of his lanky space-grown brethren. And even with that natural advantage, he can't help but notice that he's smaller than the natives if not necessarily in height then certainly in width.

"It is my pleasure that you're receiving us so promptly, Governor-General Fasilides." He's genuinely grateful for the Governor's reception and there being no noble-like etiquette involved in their meeting so far; the games of power of the high spires always made him weary even used as he was to navigating people. He doesn't pick up peaches if only because it'd be rude to talk while eating, but he takes a glass and gestures for the rest of the group to be at ease.

"I'm relieved to find a fortress this side of the Maw loyal and standing proud, and if I can help it stay that way I will. Have you had any news of passing Navy ships?"

[Lenglon]

While accepting the bolas and checking their weight: "Got it. Any venom?"

[Egan_BW]

"...Perrhaps ah could uhh, practace some with them bolars?"

No proficiency and just 30 BS for a total of exactly 0. Unless I can just really pretend that they're xenofilaments in my brain or something. Practice though, maybe I'll get a temporary bonus or something. :v

[Stirk]

Lord-Captain Guerra's mind wandered as the lander left the Ark, his eyes half-focused on the world below and half-trained on something within his thoughts. Ever since he'd been exposed to that... thing, he'd surely become more aloof. Less focused.

Watching the planet from above, the captain drummed his fingers on his pistol's holster before speaking up. "Looking at the atmosphere reminds me. When I was younger I thought planets had void shields and that the short, green vegetation over the ground was just some sort of carpet laid upon the world's floor. How things change..."


Voidborn are tall. Freakishly tall in some cases. Guerra is quite tall as well, and as part of Battlefleet stock he's also thicker than most of his lanky space-grown brethren. And even with that natural advantage, he can't help but notice that he's smaller than the natives if not necessarily in height then certainly in width.

"It is my pleasure that you're receiving us so promptly, Governor-General Fasilides." He's genuinely grateful for the Governor's reception and there being no noble-like etiquette involved in their meeting so far; the games of power of the high spires always made him weary even used as he was to navigating people. He doesn't pick up peaches if only because it'd be rude to talk while eating, but he takes a glass and gestures for the rest of the group to be at ease.

"I'm relieved to find a fortress this side of the Maw loyal and standing proud, and if I can help it stay that way I will. Have you had any news of passing Navy ships?"

"Too few and too far between. The Navy's duty is as large as the void. Last we saw of them was when we called for backup against a Chaos blockade, and scant few patrol boats responded. I fear there will soon be a time when we call and none answer."

The tea is sweet. Slightly peachy with a sour aftertaste.

"There are many things a trader can do for us, and many more a Rogue Trader can do. But I'm sure you know what it is I'm going to ask of you. To solve the little problem brewing between your peers."

He turns around and looks out the window showing a view of the lower fortress, hands behind his back.

"Their infighting is making me look weak in a time this can not be allowed. But at the same time I must put a welcoming face to Rogue Traders, for I may soon rely on their kind for the safety of my planet and my people. I can not crush them no matter how much I may wish to. That is what sparked the feud in the first place. I had invited both to a hunt, unaware that their blood holds grudges aged perhaps older than Rook's Crown. They soon came across a fine target and both fired. Both shots struck true and the dino died. Both claimed it was their shot that had felled the beast. From there it escalated into a miniature war. I have attempted to broker peace, but neither side will back down unless the dino is awarded 'properly' or a second dino of equivalent worth is felled allowing them to each have one. I can not risk making an enemy of either house and opted for the second. But it is difficult. Should the dino be worth more or less in their eyes the conflict will only continue."

He turns back around and takes as slice of peach from the platter.

"Can you think of a solution to the conflict? A non-violent one, I mean."

While accepting the bolas and checking their weight: "Got it. Any venom?"

Once again you exert the superiority of mandkind over xenos scum by snatching a kind gift clearly meant for the Eldar out of the elder's outstretched hands. Confusion, disappointment, and a little heartbreak reach the chief's painted face. Indaria is proficient at reading human faces. He manages to compose himself and seems to opt for ignoring your rudeness.

"From your companion's words I had assumed you where a more experienced hunter, or perhaps even a beastmaster. We have more rope meant for trap building in my pack. And another bola for you. If one can capture a dino is a more sturdy trap we can cage them more simply, but we risk attracting powerful predators should we fail to notice a struggling dino caught in one of our traps. It also means fate decides what you capture rather than yourself. They say some talented beastmasters can simply walk up to a dino and charm it under their command, but few on this world possess such skills. We have no venom. We have no source for such things, and dinos are so large as to take buckets full of venom to have a noticeable effect."

"...Perrhaps ah could uhh, practace some with them bolars?"

No proficiency and just 30 BS for a total of exactly 0. Unless I can just really pretend that they're xenofilaments in my brain or something. Practice though, maybe I'll get a temporary bonus or something. :v

You can't. Because Indaria took them from you. The chief looks at Indaria as if to ask 'Well are you going to let her practice with her bola?' but didn't say anything.

Proficiency penalty is -20, and thrown weapon proficiency is a myth. Like the errata says "The Thrown Weapon Training *mumble mumble* should be deleted". Honestly since grenades are the only good thrown weapon and they explicitly don't require thrown weapon training there is no reason for it to exist.

Besides, there is an Eldar bolas. Eldar Star Bolas. So you're good.

[Lenglon]

After checking the bolas, pass them over to the Eldar
"Seems like they're quality work, you might like em."
turning back to the hunter.
"Not what I meant. Most beasts I've hunted have some kind of venom, but they also aren't really able to be tamed. I don't know yours as well as you do, and I'm no beastmaster. Is there any venom or other special tricks to worry about?"