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.
It's Always Heretical in the Kronus Expanse is bought to you by:
Lord-Captain van Hohenheim - Rogue Trader. Hero. The last of his line. Possibly insane, although a holiday has done much to soothe his agitated mind. Questionable epicurean delights have left him unreasonably muscled.
Magos Abigail von Thannhausen - A Magos Explorator-Chymist who possibly takes too much pleasure in the craft of Servitors. Accompanied by her servo-skull. Ever since doing warp-eel shots, she seems more insightful somehow.
Archaius "Boosto" Wash - A gunnery sergeant with a now less-irritating artificial voicebox and a jetpack. We are all amazed by his apparently-infinite agility, and his recent ability to just shrug off pain.
Sebastian LaMarck - A seneschal with a silver tongue. Spymaster and king of Human Resources. One hell of a butler, even when he's on autopilot.
Winter York - Astropath Transcendant. Monstrous willpower. Notorious advocate of psychic power pissing matches, and freshly endowed with wings, somehow. Your glorious narrator and remembrancer.
We head down to the planet to meet with the winning landship, the Indestructible.
We touch down in one of the front hangars, amidst a flurry of dust gliders also returning from patrols. Wing hardpoints seem to be empty, but they still have a few bombs and such.
We can feel a low rumble similar to that of a starship as we step onto the deck. We're met by a passel of dusty, grubby engineers, who salute us.
They're to escort us to the Elder Tactician, and they make a brisk pace; the landship is of similar scale to our ship. But much dustier, and devoid of Kevins.
We arrive at the Elder's quarters, and it's well-appointed for a planet like this. Three fairly old men are waiting for us. We're free to take a seat, and do so.
None of them are Greaves, which is surprising. They introduce themselves. Praeston Mero, Magnus
We are asked, and confirm, that we are merchants. The Lord-Captain confirms this, and expresses interest in the Macrocannons.
They'd like to talk more, but they can't actually make or give us any due to a scarcity of resources. The last time they made one was 75 years ago, easily.
But before we get to business, drinks! We bought a choice of amasec, or the... water from the desert planet.
They wave a metal wand over the water and it shows green, so they're happy to drink -- but are curious as to why we aren't partaking. We clarify that we bought it along just as an option, the Lord-Captain is... well, alcoholic. He's not been sober as long as I've known him, 6 years. They accept this and move on.
Long story short, they're agreeable to our offers of materials and transit off this blasted hellhole, although they cannot guarantee a copy of the gun or landship schematics. They need time to talk it over.
We stop by the Engine Order to see how tight-lipped they are. As it turns out, extremely so. It's like dealing with particularly taciturn Adeptus Mechanicus, gear iconography and all. They don't give us an inch and tell us to go away.
We consider what color robes astropaths usually wear. Apparently a common portrayal is green, but it doesn't really bring out my eyes, so I wear beige / tan.
DM: "Your what?"
Me: "My eyes."
DM: "Your what?"
*remembers I have no organic eyes*
We retreat to our gun cutter for a bit.
We flag down a mechanic. He's okay with taking us to the Gun Masters. He's a little patronizing to the Magos when he describes what macrocannons are -- we might not be familiar with them, as our ship is relatively small.
Wash: "She might need a diagram. Do you have any crayons?"
Mechanic: "We melted them down to extend the corpse starch a long time ago..."
Me: "Ah, the US Marine MRE diet."
"What are those floating things? They look like... skulls."
"They're servo skulls. They're skulls that... servo."
We arrive at the gun battery, and meet Bador Hovik. We make small talk before I casually drop the codeword mid-conversation. He invites us to step into his office.
We're made an offer. A decomissioned macrocannon now, in exchange for full control of the ship. A coup for a gun.
We go to have a think on it, and meet up with the Elder Tacticians one last time to get their take. Graves is now present, and he and the Lord-Captain talk shop.
The Lord-Captain offers four things: Transport off the planet. Resources. Technology. Aid from above. Of them, Graves bites on the resources and tech.
In return, they're willing to make us macrocannons -- can't do it fast, but they'll do it.
The Lord-Captain makes the call and accepts the deal with the Elders. Now that we're committed, we dob in Bador and hand over a (redacted) version of the data we pulled from the dead admech as proof of his collaboration.
"Gentlemen... We got another one."
We throw in a Speaky Kevin, and for our trouble, get the decomissioned macrocannon. It's taped to the underside of our gun cutter.
The contract is signed, and we snap a pict of the event. There's a party and celebration as we ship down a goodwill shipment of food and water.
On the way out, Wash accidentally dragged the cannon along the ground of the hangar.
We successfully established trade relations with Zaith -- time to go claim the Dread Pearl. We make some phonecalls.
We contact Lady Sun-Lee, and cordially invite her to join us at the Dread Pearl, awaiting her RSVP.
We holla at Blitz, and invite him to drinks and the Dread Pearl.
We also invite Charlabelle and Francois, although we doubt they're going to accept.
No comments:
Post a Comment