Rogue Trader: A quest for profit in the grim darkness of the 41st millenium. But dying in mediocrity and misery is for poor people and losers, and a Rogue Trader's retinue is anything but.
Rogue Trading for Fun and Profit is bought to you by:
Lord-Captain van Hohenheim - Rogue Trader. Hero. The last of his line. That's like a unicorn!
Magos Abigail von Thannhausen - A magos who possibly takes too much pleasure in the craft of Servitors. Accompanied by her servo-skull.
Archaius Wash - A gunnery sergeant with an irritatingly low-quality accent and a poor-grade artificial voicebox.
Sebastian LaMarck - A seneschal with a silver tongue.
Winter York - Astropath Transcendant. Monstrous willpower. Your glorious narrator and remembrancer.
We're travelling through warp to Port Wander. The warp is always weird, but this time it's stranger than usual -- we all hear whispers in the air. Exactly what varies, but I hear an accusatory voice tell me I "ran" for about 3 hours.
We're in warp for about 9 days and arrive to a strangely quiet Port Wander. It turns out that this is because we're walking into a civil war between the Iron Hounds (Established) and the Rusted Hands (newcomers).
The Iron Hounds aren't looking for help, and advise that it's extremely unsafe to be on-station right now. The Rusted Hands are a warband assembled of what seems like smaller mercenary groups united under a single leader. We dock anyway.
A bit of a plan is concocted; what if we found the leader and killed them? The warband may disband, or even better, fall under our control! I suggest starting with a bar and hoping we find a drunk Rusted Hand. The Lord Captain finds a bartender.
We talk with the Navy. Long story short, the Navy broadcasts the Lord Captain's offer of a peace talk / mediation. Sadly, nobody's interested.
The crew decides to involve themselves in the civil war, and try to decapitate the leadership of the Hounds. The party splits slightly, the Captain remaining on the ship while everyone else goes looking for a fight in Port Wander.
We find one, and throw down. We win, but not as easily as we'd envisioned. With bigger fish to fry, specifically the client who *hired* us to transport her, we decide discretion is the better part of valor and depart for the ship.