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. Possibly insane.
Magos Abigail von Thannhausen - A Magos Explorator-Chymist who possibly takes too much pleasure in the craft of Servitors. Accompanied by her servo-skull.
Archaius Wash - A gunnery sergeant with a now less-irritating artificial voicebox.
Sebastian LaMarck - A seneschal with a silver tongue.
Winter York - Astropath Transcendant. Monstrous willpower. Your glorious narrator and remembrancer.
We're going to get started on starting the Colony. We'll begin with the Ecclesiarchy.
Our first stop is the Grand Cathedral of the Emperor Ascendant, absolutely mobbed by pilgrims.
Van Hohenheim leads the way through the absolutely titanic doors of the Cathedral. The pilgrims see his attire and part around him like the red sea. Further in, more importantly religious individuals mill about doing the Emperor's work.
One monk spots us, detaches from his clique and minces his way to us.
"Lords, lady, you honor us with your presence. Are you here to pay tribute, or worship our Emperor and his saints?"
VH: "That, and much, much more. Wash, you do the talking."
Wash: "We want to take a bunch of your people and dump them on a rock."
VH: "Let me rephrase that. Wash, stop talking."
Hohenheim proceeds to liberally butter up the monk and give him up the pitch.
The Monk is clearly not empowered to discuss this. He defers to the Arch-Mandrite, and leads us to an annex where we wait for an audience. We're lucky, we're only waiting half an hour before the Arch-Mandrite was able to find time in his schedule. The Lord-Captain pretends to be lost in prayer when we're summoned in, presumably for extra brownie points. I really doubt such an obvious play would be effective, though.
The room is sparsely decorated for a man of such great import and position. The sole exception is a chair, which turns and rolls out from behind the desk, a man ensconced within.
Cal, the head priest of the Cathedral, introduces himself. Van Hohenheim gives him the sales pitch. Cal is surprisingly skeptical of our planned religious outreach, and grills the Lord-Captain extensively.
He thinks on it, and agrees, with terms and conditions. Not bad considering his political acumen.
We move on to the Administratum -- the Spire. Very tall, very big. I take the lead on this, I have a plan to bypass the beauracracy.
I inquire at the front desk. Long story short, we want to speak with the Department of Colonization, but there's no free slots for the next 2 weeks unless someone happens to cancel. I try and read his mind to find out who would have to die to free up a slot, but no luck.
We take the elevator up to the department's floor, and look for someone easily bullied who might be easily "persuaded" to give up their slot. I find a painfully gaudy man, and taking up position nearby, read his mind.
Jean LeFrancois, impatient, reasonably unhinged (>10 insanity), very healthy.
Impatient, but soon he'll be able to get his business over and done with so he can get laid. He might get screwed over, but thinks it unlikely.
He will be *lying like a motherfucker* about the state of his finances, and his lack of backing. He's had a few brushes with something that might be tainting his soul.
He has an appointment in about an hour. He's been smoking obscura, has an Obscura den back home. He's a free captain, not a Rogue Trader. He wants to establish a trade route to move pilgrims out to Footfall.
I approach him, imply I'm with the Imperium, and kindly ask him to step aside so we can discuss how he's going to give up his appointment. He's shaken by my unsubtle threats that if he doesn't comply, knowledge of his dirty secrets becomes common, but remains relatively certain that his incredibly large associate will pop my head like a melon for impropriety. I'm quite certain that I can make his large associate pop Jean's head instead.
The deal is not one-sided; by giving up his slot, the Lord-Captain will cut him in on our trade route operations as well. He eventually agrees to the plan, and gives up his appointment ticket. Which is good, because I didn't want to have to put this guy in the ground.
I've done my part in securing the appointment; it's all up to the Lord-Captain to lie his pants off and get us the resource consent we need to set up our colony...
Long story short, we got the approval. We pack up our stuff and make for our next destination: The Lathe Worlds.