Rogue Trader RP Thread

[Daemon Keido]

"Beginning Exit transition in 3.....2.....1.....Mark!"

The Ambition-Class cruiser Fortune and Glory shuddered and whined as it came back out of the Warp. Ratings moved to and fro on the command deck, securing information as well as any detritus that might have fallen about during the always-violent transition. Rogue Trader Deklan Dekkard strolled about the command deck as he looked over various incoming reports being routed to his augmetic left eye, blinking to either switch reports to to refresh to more details inside the reports. His calm voice betrayed his Belacane origins, but his crew was more than used to his unique brogue.

"It seems all is well. Crewman Ramierez, go see to our Navigator in his alcove. Provided he is fit and ready, tell him to report to the Embarkation Deck. He likes to leave the ship once in a while and I want to ensure he is given the option. Rouse the others to Station Keeping, and make sure our primary excursion team is also reporting to the Embarkation Deck. Once everyone is there, I will give them the briefing. I expect to be doing so within three hours."

With that, Rogue Trader Dekker then went on to his private quarters where he indulged in some of his best port, ensuring to fill a hip flask with some Ratling Moonshine. His compliment onboard Fortune and Glory had refined their skill as much as their own accuracy with rifles. As it was, it made up a large portion of his ratings' allotment of what simple pleasures they were allowed. Soon after he affixed his sidearm and made his way to the Embarkation Deck, where every adventure he and his crew would have would begin and end.......

[Darker]

Quiller was in it for the fun and nothing else.

He had spent his time on the docking bay, inside his ship, checking if every single one of his shotguns was locked and loaded. He had finished, confirming that they were, despite the fact that he knew they were since he constantly checks for ammunition every few hours or so.

Walking back outside, he took a good look at his ship to see if it was in good condition. At this point, Quiller was just patiently waiting for something to happen, and based on the sudden rise of activity within the cruiser, something was indeed happening elsewhere.

[Tinny]

The winds howled, and the ship groaned, and there he was, Navigator McDaniels, pulling the ship along through the darkness. The blizzards raged, how eagerly, and how quickly they would obliterate this very ship, amd everyone on board if he were to stray from a path that was almost invisible. Je was immersed in the warp, his third eye turning its madness into something palatable for the mortal mind. He went forward, his eye always trained on the path, a single wrong step would doom them all, and bring a real blizzard down upon them. Finally, he saw in the distance, a light. Shelter,a place to stop and end their journey, but he was no fool, continue as planned, do not lose sight of the path, or you will be torn asunder, your soul lost to the voyage forever. Continue. Persevere, and never lose sight of the path.

At last the trek was over, the illusion that shielded his mind faded as they dropped out of warp. Crewman Ramierez would come across McDaniels, a gaunt cheeked, long jawed, lanky figure of a man, who's face looked as if it had never reached a pure smile in his (admittedly young) eighty years. Quickly informing him of where he was needed, he went forth, not acknowledging the messenger, simply heading down to the embarkation bay, and seeing his captain Dekker on there, sidearm equipped, and a… -It will be worth it. The Emperor will see to that.- A Xenos, fiddling with the shotgun, perhaps it was maintaining them, or perhaps the stupid kroot was wondering if it were a snack. Why they took this fetid mistake was a mistake that only the angels could uncover, but nevertheless it was here.

“I am Navigator McDaniels.” He said, to inform any peasantry or fool unaware. Unlikely, even the kroot should know who he is, as the one who ensures that the blizzards of the warp do not disorient and overtake them. But he was not going to give a simpleton or a xenos the benefit of the doubt here.

[Sam]

Eucaleys was distant. What else was new? He was a tall man, 6'6" (198 cm) to 6'10" with his Primaris armour on (208 cm). Intimidating by nature and due to his prestigious history, but, also his dark past. Even if one wasn't familiar with the Fall of Neucalyrus, the devastation of his homeworld was exemplified by Eucaleys' features. Scars weaved and contorted his mutilated figure. It was particularly obvious at both his flesh and cybernetic joints. However, most of those were covered due to his partial set of Primaris armour and where there wasn't armour from his old position there were replacement parts. One could see the man's neck though. It was like his throat had been slashed in nine different directions by a blade of pure magma that had, with great precision and even greater cruelty, treated his flesh as if it were butter. The ferocious scarring broke off from the neck like numerous tributaries, streaking upward with their violent claws and disfiguring all of his features. Although, if one actually looked at him for long enough of which everyone on Fortune and Glory either have by now or eventually would then they might be able to see that the man certainly didn't lack for looks before whatever bizarre, nightmarish event took place that ruined his flesh and crippled his mind and body. His lips were split in three from the scars tearing through them, the mutilated tissue warped grotesque around his eyes turning them into beady flecks of flint. It certainly made any casual onlooker wonder how he wasn't completely blind. He had a large, slightly hooked nose, clearly broken several times. Though, that was only apparent because he hadn't a helmet on and had lost his Psychic Hood long ago. He didn't like taking the helmet off.

He barely processed the order. When was he even given it? What was it again? Go to Station Keeping? No, no, the Embarkation Deck. All of this sounded only vaguely familiar. All he knew was a decade of extreme rehabilitation. Left for dead. Yet again. The Imperium of Man gave him an opportunity once upon a time. In another life (it felt now) they had given him the gift of hope, a rare thing in this universe. He was one of the most talented prospects of his generation with Telekine abilities and had been anointed to the esteemed rank of Primaris. In that lifetime, he was almost beautiful in his now incomplete and war-ravaged suit of armour. In that lifetime, he was younger, unscarred, beautiful. The same as his armour. He beamed with the pride of Neucalyrus and knew only the drive to grow stronger. Now his armour fared little better than his body. Functional, yes, but, aesthetically destroyed beyond hope of natural repair. It would all do, though. He hadn't been discharged from rehabilitation for long. It was strange seeing and feeling all these new and yet old sensations again. He had no choice but to join the Rogue Trader after his career prospects were left for dead after the fall of his homeworld, largely caused by his own actions, leaving him without a future and in serious debt.

His feet moved on autopilot to the Embarkation Deck. His strikingly black eyes were clearly elsewhere. His mind floated and while he may have seemed a bit naturally abrasive or difficult to talk to because of his appearance and demeanor before, now he just looked borderline demented. The patchy craters where his ears once were only twisted, growing more homely when his face morphed hideously from the occasional influx of emotion. This was one of those times. He began to play things over in his head. How everything went wrong. What he really wanted. What he really wanted? To feel alive again, to feel in control. To feel that he truly was the same prodigy that his homeworld and the Imperium saw in him before he failed them both. Somehow, in its vast and infinite cruelty, the multiverse chose him as the lone survivor of Neucalyrus but not without also sacrificing some of that potential and everything that once gave him pride and the people that once gave him love. What was he now? What did he want, really? The gut answer was to destroy, murder and torture all those who dared earn his ire. He would overexert himself to no end to prove he could still be a Primarus for his own peace of mind - not for the Imperium of Man - he needed to feel the pulse of battle and revel in how a single gesture could turn the tide in whatever way he ordained.

This simple, almost barbaric goal wasn't always his. It took ten years of nothing but informal visits by specialists who treated him like an animal rather than an actual person in which he was stuck inside of his own head... hating, black eyes burning with hot rage and loathing everything that had ever crippled him and his progress towards true greatness. This was a universe that could take everything from anyone at any moment; rather than hate this and want to change it, he knew that was naive. Instead, he sought to claim his destiny so he could be the arbiter of darkness to anything he deemed worthy of elimination. Truthfully, he hated the Imperium, he hated the people who he used to love and almost gave his life protecting, he hated everything in which he couldn't watch burn and would do everything to gain the power to---

What was he thinking again? The dark thoughts would encroach sometimes like that when he could only hear the maddening screams of the dead in his seemingly infinite decade of isolation and rehabiitation. But why now? Perhaps a side effect of the Warp? His face stopped contorting into hideous shapes and he snapped back into his full senses, muscles relaxing. He hadn't noticed, but, if anyone was anywhere near him they would have seen the sudden shift into a dark and malevolent violence that festered like a tumor. His bloodlust would make the meek cower and anything approaching him in this state would be almost guaranteed a swift crushing of their throat, with the last living vision as they gagged on blood and silently pleaded for a breath of air being his large armoured foot coming down and smashing their skull into a splatter of crimson splinters. This was not a man you ever relaxed around, even in sleep. He didn't really know it, but, part of why he joined this ship was because of the forced interaction and camaraderie. Ten years alone... he subconsciously craved being brothers and partners with other living beings. It was the last connection he remembered treasuring, except... except...

No, he couldn't go there. Not after all those dark thoughts just now. If he relapsed now he could truly regret it. No, those memories were best saved for the heat of battle when his maniacal explosions of ecstasy-filled violence were justifiable. When he could bathe in the power to render anything that crosses his path into bloody chunks and putrid abominations even uglier than he could ever be. If it couldn't disfigure, bleed or otherwise suffer in similar fashion to flesh and blood, it would earn steadfast destruction... and if they were Necron... NECRON...

It was then that he entered the Embarkation Deck. How had his feet carried his body when his mind elsewhere? It mattered not. He smiled thinly at anyone who was nearby but no one in particular, not wanting to reveal his cracked and destroyed teeth that suffered just as much as his flesh. He would find a wall to lean against in the more recessed areas of the Deck but still close enough to hear any and all parties. It was jarring. There was a time in which he'd be shaking all hands and giving his name. Now he wasn't certain what he would do if approached. All he knew was to not react violently and try to force some niceties. After all, this may be one of his few opportunities to buy his way out of debt to the Imperium and certainly the beings here hadn't done anything to earn their extermination... yet.

If present, he didn't respond to this Navigator McDaniels and merely made note of his sour disposition. He had shot a fleeting glance at the Kroot, a bit surprised to see one here but not at all expressing that surprise. He was a soldier and he contained all of this inner turmoil well. To show emotions, especially strong emotions, was a huge red flag not only to himself but should be to all others as well. His words spoke less to his mood than his silence did. An enigma in many ways, he was content to explore the vast and disturbed playground that was his mind until the Rogue Trader himself got things started. He took out his weapons and did a routine inspection mostly to occupy his hands while his mind wandered. He hoped the others would not startle him badly, for their own sake.

[Darker]

Quiller could've probably sensed any of these "new" people around him even from the other side of the ship, but he wasn't expecting to get such negative vibes out of the first man that got near him, presenting himself. Even without the need of his extra senses, he could tell the second they met eye to eye that this guy was looking down on him, but he'd gotten used to the idea of being a freak of nature since birth. In a way, his entire race had gotten used to the idea of being like that, as they practically evolved into freaks. Ever since he'd come to life, he had struggled to understand this superiority complex that so many beings across the galaxy shared, but he never cared about trying to understand it, he simply assumed it was a common trait among those too powerful for their own right... like his creators and former masters, the Tau.

“I am Navigator McDaniels.” - he said.

"Congratulations." - sarcastically replied Quiller, followed by yawning.

[Sam]

Eucaleys secretly wished for something to escalate at any given moment, if only because it meant he could possibly interfere and was itching for the thunder of battle. He pretended to not notice, but, his body resumed cleaning, maintaining and inspecting any and all of his equipment, over and over again if necessary. His mind, however, tuned in keenly towards the Navigator.

Piss that pompous ****er off, Kroot. I want to see which self-righteous "virtue" is going to get him killed the quickest. Then pray that I get to do the killing.

He analyzed the butt of his weapon, glancing up at the Navigator's face and imagining a solid smash that would empty his mouth of half its teeth and send them clattering to the ground. Maybe he'd sever the bastards' tongue too, he seemed the type to dictate his position and power with words not founded in any actual raw ability to impose his will. Eucaleys sighed at the violent thoughts, although he certainly thought the man arrogant, he didn't really wish him any harm. Still, it didn't hurt to fantasize.

Eucaleys admired the Kroot for their utilitarian nature. He hadn't met any men to his recollection that had ever held a vendetta against them and they usually seemed to mind themselves. Eucaleys was tempted to ask it how many brave warriors it had consumed, but, figured the question a potentially pointless one. He kept listening instead.

[Tinny]

For a xenos, I suppose being human must be worthy of congratulations he thought to himself, looking down upon the sir. Not deigning to give a reply to the sarcastic alien. Let him talk, his life was far more precious than any sarcastic alien, and it'd be ridiculous to risk so much to get rid of a bug, especially one on their side... Provided he does not run at the first opportunity. For now the tense, and none too friendly atmosphere prevailed in silence, there was nothing to discuss, and nothing anyone desired to discuss.

[Goddess Ultimecia]

Bright eyes, nearly everyone on this vessel had that. Ambition-class cruiser named 'Fortune and Glory' owned by a Rogue Trader named Dekland Dekker. Savior of profits and his life. Mortius Sagittario, former Arbiter hailing from the resurging Crixos. Ten millenia since the Black Legion had attacked them, just barely saved by the Emperor's chosen Space Marines. Fighting tooth and nail to save the last Hive City. That sacrifice bred a new sort of hero, someone willing to risk everything, even their lives, to save the many. Enforcers on Crixos, yes, they were brutal, yes, they were ruthless. But it was for their own good. They needed that brutality and savagery to combat the thug lords that ran rampant. Mortius was this sort of hero, he could come off as cold towards most, but he bore no ill will towards those that didn't deserve it.

Bright eyes, he couldn't tell the intention of many of these people. Only the select few he had bothered to ask anything to. Many aiming to become planetary governors, many just enough to move high enough in their hive cities to be comfortably off. Much of their makings here already be transferred towards their families. One in particular already had made significant progress, his family had already moved up a couple levels from the bottom. The man's aspirations were a breath of fresh air, he could only imagine their family could appreciate what he was doing here. Another story had perplexed him however, a mother was on this vessel that was working up the funds to purchase her son's rights from the Arbiter's dojo near her homeworld. Such a thing had to be considered an honour, her genetics had proven to be adequate for her children to be wanted to enforce the law and bring order to the world.

She would be watched with a side eye.

Sleep wasn't something he needed often, the small amount of augmentation he was given was made in an effort to maximize his ability to bring law to Crixos. An artificial regulator connected to his stomach that administered a controlled dosage of caffeine and histamine to lower the amount of hours needed to sleep. When he was in need of a nap, he chose the quiet recesses of a janitor's closet, ear to the walls to hear the humming of the engine of the ship. While he is in the middle of one of his naps, a man opens the door and nods towards him, telling him to report to the Embarkation deck.

He was already equipped head to toe. His visor covering his face opened revealing his light brown eyes and thick eyebrows and skin that was stained with ash making it a vibrantless colour.

"Will be there." Mortius spoke as he walked out of the closet and towards Embarkation. When he would arrive there, he would see the others that would be on the missions with him. A horrifically maimed psyker, a navigator (no surprise there), a... kroot (he would need to be watched as well) and... an ORK!?

Mortius' pistol damn near had unholstered itself through sheer instinct, Mortius only noticed he had it pointed towards the beast when he saw his hand around its handle. But, even before he could pull the trigger, the Ork had ripped the pistol out of his hand. But instead of counterattacking, the thing was just regarding it before looking up towards him.

"Weak dis iz, i kould do a fing or two ta make it shoot betta!" Mortius could do nothing but watch in confusion as the others didn't do anything about the Ork here. As if he was normal, for the moment he just hunched his shoulders up uncomfortably as the Ork handed his pistol back to him. Mortius grabbed it forcefully, ripping it from the Ork's hand, putting it back in his holster and wiping his hand on his pantleg.

"any uv ya need fix'n for ya guns an’ smash? jus wait, once i get ma hands on guts i kan make it betta for all uv yer."

[Daemon Keido]

Dekker watched all the goings-on with a weather eye. He had expected tension, and he was not wrong. The troublemakers that showcased were not unexpected. Especially with an Ork onboard. It would take much to assuage that paranoia, and it likely would never really die. Which is just as well. While the Ork had so far been civilized and useful, loyalty is not something so easily bred in their kind. They showed fealty to power, but only as far as that power's shadow draped. As things had not come to immediate blows he was wont to let it stay unmentioned. They would either create their own equilibrium or Dekker would enforce one, but it would be better if they could do so.

"Thank you all for your promptness. Haste makes our fortunes. Quiller will take us down to the planet we will soon be on our way towards. It is a Civilized World, one that will look unusually empty to our Hive Worlders. It is called Bernito's Stake. Presumably this Bernito trailblazed its settlement but as that extends beyond the Dark Age, none can say for certain. This place has a relaxed atmosphere regarding the Ecclediarchy due to its merchant nature. You will see more Xenos on this world than your entire lives, barring our esteemed Primaris' experience. This will not be a concern." This wasn't a question, but an order. The tone of voice was all he needed to ensure that.

"We have heard tell of some Archeotech that can be found in a nearby asteroid field that used to be a smaller planetoid in the system. We will discreetly look into the more trustworthy rumors about its exact locations. However, we will not be the only ones looking into it. Discretion is required......but preparedness will matter as much. I expect to see some treachery from some of my contacts, they are simple folk easily bought for a handful of Throne-Gilt. Once we have a credible vector, we will make our way to it. If the relics are especially numerous, we may see a tidy sum after expenses. But we shall not get tok far ahead of ourselves, hmm? Does anyone need any equipment brought down here before we make our way to the dropship? I suspect Quiller already has his loadout decided by simply bringing it all....." a small chuckle leaves Dekker's throat.

[Tinny]

He snorted hearing about the abundance of xenos. Disgusting creatures all over the planet, while they welcomed them in the name of trade and coin. Nevertheless, he knew what he signed up for, there'd likely be points where the entirety of the planet was filthy xenos. He'd simply have to clean himself once they returned to the ship. Think of it as networking, and if he can deal with this, then perhaps one day he can get to a position where he never had to deal with their kind again.

"If this is a civilized planet, then it is best we have weapons we can draw on quickly, and holster as quickly. I'll be fine with this autopistol and this entourage." What went unspoken was his own unique abilities as a navigator, his third eye, bestowed on him and his house by the Emperor of All Mankind, was a better weapon than most gave credit for. Most would dare even look directly at him, for fear a simple glance could drive them insane... Well, they were not wrong. And more to the point, he has been prepared for assassination for a long time, the politics of the navigator houses were not child's play, he knew how to act.

Besides, he did not want to take any weapons from an ork. Not until he was certain he'd create weapons and not simply exploding traps. For now, a pistol was fine, his true power lay in his eye. He'd look upon his crew... Out of this motley sort, who could he trust?

[Darker]

Others came, and with them, even more and more words.

He'd been itching for a fight, but the green-eyed blondie had decided to ignore his taunt. A pity. His lust for violence will not be satiated at this moment. Perhaps later. Right now, words will do. He listened to the one who had allowed him entry in the cruiser, as he explained to this team of misfits about their mission. From him and this mission, Quiller expected much. Mostly guns and enough blood to satisfy Quiller's overly agressive nature.

"Civilized"? "Discretion"? - thought Quiller. He didn't like the sound of those words, but he was fine with taking orders so long as they led into fun, and with an ork in their team, chances of that were high.

Speaking of fun, the Rogue Trader had decided to make a witty comment about how many guns he was bringing. Quiller appreciated that there were humorous ones among this crew, but decided to speak up anyway.

"This is all Quiller's stuff. Don't touch our stuff! If you need food or weapons and ask us nicely, we MIGHT give you some." - he said to all of them, while hugging his ship like weirdo.

[Goddess Ultimecia]

Eye trained on both the ork and quiller. Mortius responded.

"Uncivilized or civilized, xenos or not. I'm more than capable of getting the information we need out of them should it be required. If there is treachery they seek, then they'll be rewarded with a round between their eyes. That much is certain." The obnoxiously loud ork then responded to everyone.

"Yer'll be back

dey always do, warboss, speed freakz, da lot uv yer all need more powa for yer gunz. No wun eva refuses more powa." Goolblitz raised one of his fat sausage fingers underneath his nose and began to rub underneath while it toothily grinned. Mekboys were usually right on this, the orks never turned down upgrades, umies and pointy ears likely wouldn't either, despite their denying his help. They all would eventually come to him. It happened on his homeworld, it would happen on this ship too.

"Anyway, when will we be making landfall... Quiller? I imagine the sooner we can get to asking questions, the faster we'll be to acquiring whatever equipment it is we can grab."

[Sam]

A flare of irritation and perhaps something else found its way from Eucaleys' burning heart into his throat upon seeing the ork. He instinctively grabbed the trigger and was one swing away from aiming and firing before he caught himself.

Not this one. Settle down.

Eucaleys eased his fingers as the ork had stopped Mortius from firing on it anyway. He knew that if he raised his weapon and the ork chose to grab it he would soon find himself killing the ork and possibly having a standoff with the rest of the ship. This thought alone kept the darkness and violent reactions at bay. He said nothing as the Rogue Trader spoke, though, became a bit irritated and concerned at the possible lack of combat. Or, at least, of others taking his kills. Then he really would start killing them. After all, how hard is it to paint a casualty in battle as being caused by the enemy rather than friendly fire? He shook his head, more unnecessarily violent thoughts.

Discreet was not a trait that Eucaleys excelled in. He still said nothing, readied his armament and stood. If he had to start killing, he was ready. If not, well, eventually they would run into an enemy, right? If not here then somewhere. The universe was a vast and hostile place after all.

[Darker]

Similar to a Carnodon, Quiller chuffed like a tiger would in a welcoming way, but in this case, it was a snort indicating annoyance. He didn't want to share his ship with anyone, he'd been alone all his life and liked it that way, but he was part of this new "kindred" of sorts now and he had to think about the other members of his crew.

"All of you are welcome in my ship, human. Feel free to enter it whenever you're ready, we'll leave right away once everyone is on board." - said Quiller, climbing up into his ship.

[Sam]

Eucaleys gave the smallest of visible nods and stood, his helmet underneath his armpit. His dark and haunting visage casting a fraction of a moment's doubt as to the capabilities of the others on the ship. He proceeded quietly towards Quiller and his ship. He had all of his own weapons, he couldn't imagine needing anything else. If he did, he presumed the others would take care of things. He was still young - relatively speaking - and Eucaleys was used to others often taking care of such... menial work. He entered the ship and glanced around only as long as needed to understand the layout, the Kroot's weaponry, etc. upon reaching a spot where he could sit, he did. His mind hummed with a strange feeling, his charred skin tingling and the tiniest of smirks graced the corners of his gutted lips. Eucaleys' mind was eerily blank as he awaited further instruction and to disembark.