- Pronouns
- He/Him
To be fair! *gestures to the fleet action*
WARHAMMER 40,000: ROGUE TRADER: THE CITADEL OF SKULLS (Roleplaying on the Farthest Frontiers)
- Thread starter DragonCobolt
- Start date
- Mature Sci-Fi Fantasy
To be fair! *gestures to the fleet action*
F0lkL0re
Officially not an Inquisitor
- Location
- Shetland
True it does make for a very persuasive argument, I just find it rather funny that Em went from this:
To this:
- Location
- USA
To be fair, the Colossus had been part of the Purgatorio defense force for a few years before he and his wives went to Damaris. That's long enough to not only change his mind but also give him ideas on how to use it effectively.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Embarrassing confession: I forgot I wrote that, lollll
Alectai
Speaks Words of Wisdom... On occasion
To be fair, given how the Imperial Navy does business, strike craft are spacecancer that constantly degrade over the course of a patrol that can sometimes be years long with limited access to repair and replacement. Sure, you get an all powerful inital attack, but orthodox naval doctrine prefers consistency over power.
A Rogue Trader who wants to make a carrier boat though only needs to worry about that carrier, and they set their own timetable. So the calculus shifts.
A Rogue Trader who wants to make a carrier boat though only needs to worry about that carrier, and they set their own timetable. So the calculus shifts.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
XP EXPENDITURES
...STRENGTH, BASIC: 250 XP
...STRENGTH, INTERMEDIATE: 750 XP
...WEAPON SKILL, TRAINED: 1250 XP
...TALENT, BLADEMASTER: 1750 XP
...TALENT, DIE HARD: 2,000 XP
100 XP BANKED!
CHAPTER TWO: A Winding Route Through Dark Places (1.1)
- Pronouns
- He/Him
CW: There are parents being mad and yelling, or at least, being very stern with their kids. Not in an abusive way, but for people who have unhappy experiences with parents yelling at them, be warned!
There is word: Stentorian.
It meant loud and stern - and yet, despite not saying a word, at the moment, your husband Emil Vendigroth Scourge, youngest Captain the Imperial Navy had seen in nearly five hundred years (or was it a thousand, you couldn't track) was being extremely stentorian as he strode with you away from the seal-lock and down the corridor of the Colossus. The Scourge Officer in charge of the Colossus, a stolid fellow named William Chauncer, was hurriedly walking alongside him.
"I of course, tender my resignation, sir," he was saying. "And face all due and appropriate-"
"It's not your bloody fault, Will," you say, immediately.
"Yes, my wife is correct," Em says, pausing at a junction for several dozen tech-priests to go hurrying past, dragging with them a heavy duty piece of cabling. He turns to face Chauncer directly, adjusting his collar and then frowning down at him. Em is not actually the tallest fellow you've ever met - but he somehow still manages to seem taller than anyone else, purely through force of will and personality. "You flew and fought an untested carrier with a green crew through a fleet action thrust upon your suddenly and without warning, wared her through two torpedo salvos, and came into our formation as neat as I'd ever seen a ship sailed. There is nothing that you and your crew have to feel ashamed of, Captain Chauncer."
Despite Will's best attempt to not collapse into a puddle of relief, you can see his shoulders sag.
"It's..." Em turns, then stalks across the corridor, comes to the room, then throws open the doors. "June Sun Lee Ma'ko!"
Okay.
Now he's stentorian.
You step into the drawing room of the Colossus and find that it is just as well appointed as one might expect for a former naval ship with rococo detailing along the walls, a huge mural of Saint Macharius - the really really really tacky one, the one with the wings - spreading overhead on the ceiling. One might ask why an Imperial Guard general was here and not a naval saint, but you didn't have Admiral Bastille around to ask him properly. And, really, you were more focused on your children. Junie had shot up like a weed in the subjective months between you and her last meeting and your heart practically ripped in two to see her having shot past twelve and clearly hit her mid teenage years - fifteen or sixteen, if you didn't miss your guess. You could see the shape of the woman she'd become in her gangly, long limbed body. You could see her mother's beauty, but a certain arrogant puckish air that you were sure came entirely from Ryia, the only source of that kind of cocky, cheerful attitude in the face of onrushing disaster. Definitely, it could only be from Ryia, your sister, one hundred percent.
Zeph had been equally transfigured, having gone from a young toddler to an eager looking, cheerful nine or ten year old, their hair a wild mop of black curls that made your child look more like a dust-bunny that had gotten legs and arms than a human being.
Junie, meanwhile, was dressed in...
Good Emperor, was that a leather jacket.
With...
That was, it was a leather jacket with flight patches from the Damarian 91st Screaming Bitches Void Superiority Squadron. With the little angry looking canids holding lightning bolts insignia.
And Junie had paid someone, or bribed someone, to dye her hair purple!
"Hey Dad," Junie says, cheerfully.
"Don't you hey Dad me," Em says, glowering down at her, while Zeph shrinks away from you both, looking so terrified that your heart is about to break. You try and remain firm, though, because...well. Em continues: "When the Colossus stopped for watering off the Unbeholden Reaches, I'm told that you and Zeph stole a courier from right underneath Flight Marshal Zane's nose, then, disobeying direct orders from the bridge, you flew a solid five astronomic units on a four hour joy ride, straight through two asteroid clusters and around the rings of an unexplored gas giant!"
"Well-" Junie starts.
"AND THEN!" Em continues, his face reddening. "You ran directly into a twenty ship strong Rak'Gol armada - an armada that then gave chase to you back to the Colossus, hounded the Colossus to the red-line, then detatched into the Warp to give chase, and has-"
"I-" Junie tries to cut in.
Em glares at her. He does not yell, he simply glares.
Junie looks down at her feet, her shoulders shaking as she clenches her fists. Zeph is cowering behind her even more.
"...and then when you were given direct orders to remain in your quarters, you subdued Midshipman Wuthers, stole his uniform, bolt pistol, and armsmen detachment, and engaged an entire Rak'Gol boarding party in the prow decks of this ship," Em finishes. "Is that correct, Miss Ma'ko?"
"Dad, I-"
"Is. That. Correct?"
Junie looks down at her feet. "Yes, sir."
Em breathes in, then breathes out again. "June..." he says, quietly. "I am very disappointed in you."
Junie's lip trembles and she looks down at her feet.
"I-It's my fault..."
Zeph's voice is very, very soft. They peek out from around June's side, looking miserable.
"No, it was my idea!" Junie says - but Zeph shakes their head, hurriedly.
"No, no, it was mine, June!" they say, then step fully out, clenching their hands before themselves. "I-...I wanted to go flying, since, all the bumboats were going out and the Furies were flying and we can watch them in the window and I said it'd be really fun if we could go flying, so Junie said we could go flying really quick..."
Em sighs, slowly. He glances your way, and...it's strange. You've been married for years, and there is a point in any marriage where telepathy is a grossly understated, inelegant means of communication compared to a small twitch of the eyebrow, pursed lips, cocked head. On the way here, Em had outlined some punishments he was thinking of - the one commonly used among the navy was being turned 'before the mast' - meaning that an officer would be demoted from being a gentleman to being a hand. This would mean they'd sleep in worse conditions, and could be...started...
That was a prettied up way for 'being beaten by any bosun that thought they weren't doing hard enough work.' To be fair, most bosuns didn't beat hands. Just a tiny thwap on the bottom or back, sometimes a poke or prod. The beatings only came with insubordination or severe drunkenness.
But...
Still, the very idea turned your stomach.
Other punishments were more befitting noble families - you could assign a whipping boy, if you wished to be old fashioned. Or you could, to use a midhive slang term, 'ground' them.
Clearly, though, something had to be done.
---
What do you do, parents?
[ ] Turn Junie before the mast for a week or two to scare her straight
[ ] Ground both of them
[ ] Give both of them an extended, stern talking too
[ ] Hire a governess - you can surely find a Schola Progenium somewhere in the Expanse
[ ] Write In
There is word: Stentorian.
It meant loud and stern - and yet, despite not saying a word, at the moment, your husband Emil Vendigroth Scourge, youngest Captain the Imperial Navy had seen in nearly five hundred years (or was it a thousand, you couldn't track) was being extremely stentorian as he strode with you away from the seal-lock and down the corridor of the Colossus. The Scourge Officer in charge of the Colossus, a stolid fellow named William Chauncer, was hurriedly walking alongside him.
"I of course, tender my resignation, sir," he was saying. "And face all due and appropriate-"
"It's not your bloody fault, Will," you say, immediately.
"Yes, my wife is correct," Em says, pausing at a junction for several dozen tech-priests to go hurrying past, dragging with them a heavy duty piece of cabling. He turns to face Chauncer directly, adjusting his collar and then frowning down at him. Em is not actually the tallest fellow you've ever met - but he somehow still manages to seem taller than anyone else, purely through force of will and personality. "You flew and fought an untested carrier with a green crew through a fleet action thrust upon your suddenly and without warning, wared her through two torpedo salvos, and came into our formation as neat as I'd ever seen a ship sailed. There is nothing that you and your crew have to feel ashamed of, Captain Chauncer."
Despite Will's best attempt to not collapse into a puddle of relief, you can see his shoulders sag.
"It's..." Em turns, then stalks across the corridor, comes to the room, then throws open the doors. "June Sun Lee Ma'ko!"
Okay.
Now he's stentorian.
You step into the drawing room of the Colossus and find that it is just as well appointed as one might expect for a former naval ship with rococo detailing along the walls, a huge mural of Saint Macharius - the really really really tacky one, the one with the wings - spreading overhead on the ceiling. One might ask why an Imperial Guard general was here and not a naval saint, but you didn't have Admiral Bastille around to ask him properly. And, really, you were more focused on your children. Junie had shot up like a weed in the subjective months between you and her last meeting and your heart practically ripped in two to see her having shot past twelve and clearly hit her mid teenage years - fifteen or sixteen, if you didn't miss your guess. You could see the shape of the woman she'd become in her gangly, long limbed body. You could see her mother's beauty, but a certain arrogant puckish air that you were sure came entirely from Ryia, the only source of that kind of cocky, cheerful attitude in the face of onrushing disaster. Definitely, it could only be from Ryia, your sister, one hundred percent.
Zeph had been equally transfigured, having gone from a young toddler to an eager looking, cheerful nine or ten year old, their hair a wild mop of black curls that made your child look more like a dust-bunny that had gotten legs and arms than a human being.
Junie, meanwhile, was dressed in...
Good Emperor, was that a leather jacket.
With...
That was, it was a leather jacket with flight patches from the Damarian 91st Screaming Bitches Void Superiority Squadron. With the little angry looking canids holding lightning bolts insignia.
And Junie had paid someone, or bribed someone, to dye her hair purple!
"Hey Dad," Junie says, cheerfully.
"Don't you hey Dad me," Em says, glowering down at her, while Zeph shrinks away from you both, looking so terrified that your heart is about to break. You try and remain firm, though, because...well. Em continues: "When the Colossus stopped for watering off the Unbeholden Reaches, I'm told that you and Zeph stole a courier from right underneath Flight Marshal Zane's nose, then, disobeying direct orders from the bridge, you flew a solid five astronomic units on a four hour joy ride, straight through two asteroid clusters and around the rings of an unexplored gas giant!"
"Well-" Junie starts.
"AND THEN!" Em continues, his face reddening. "You ran directly into a twenty ship strong Rak'Gol armada - an armada that then gave chase to you back to the Colossus, hounded the Colossus to the red-line, then detatched into the Warp to give chase, and has-"
"I-" Junie tries to cut in.
Em glares at her. He does not yell, he simply glares.
Junie looks down at her feet, her shoulders shaking as she clenches her fists. Zeph is cowering behind her even more.
"...and then when you were given direct orders to remain in your quarters, you subdued Midshipman Wuthers, stole his uniform, bolt pistol, and armsmen detachment, and engaged an entire Rak'Gol boarding party in the prow decks of this ship," Em finishes. "Is that correct, Miss Ma'ko?"
"Dad, I-"
"Is. That. Correct?"
Junie looks down at her feet. "Yes, sir."
Em breathes in, then breathes out again. "June..." he says, quietly. "I am very disappointed in you."
Junie's lip trembles and she looks down at her feet.
"I-It's my fault..."
Zeph's voice is very, very soft. They peek out from around June's side, looking miserable.
"No, it was my idea!" Junie says - but Zeph shakes their head, hurriedly.
"No, no, it was mine, June!" they say, then step fully out, clenching their hands before themselves. "I-...I wanted to go flying, since, all the bumboats were going out and the Furies were flying and we can watch them in the window and I said it'd be really fun if we could go flying, so Junie said we could go flying really quick..."
Em sighs, slowly. He glances your way, and...it's strange. You've been married for years, and there is a point in any marriage where telepathy is a grossly understated, inelegant means of communication compared to a small twitch of the eyebrow, pursed lips, cocked head. On the way here, Em had outlined some punishments he was thinking of - the one commonly used among the navy was being turned 'before the mast' - meaning that an officer would be demoted from being a gentleman to being a hand. This would mean they'd sleep in worse conditions, and could be...started...
That was a prettied up way for 'being beaten by any bosun that thought they weren't doing hard enough work.' To be fair, most bosuns didn't beat hands. Just a tiny thwap on the bottom or back, sometimes a poke or prod. The beatings only came with insubordination or severe drunkenness.
But...
Still, the very idea turned your stomach.
Other punishments were more befitting noble families - you could assign a whipping boy, if you wished to be old fashioned. Or you could, to use a midhive slang term, 'ground' them.
Clearly, though, something had to be done.
---
What do you do, parents?
[ ] Turn Junie before the mast for a week or two to scare her straight
[ ] Ground both of them
[ ] Give both of them an extended, stern talking too
[ ] Hire a governess - you can surely find a Schola Progenium somewhere in the Expanse
[ ] Write In
UPKEEP TEST: +5 for Furies being tough, for a total of 84% - 43, success, the fighters are all refitted and repaired!
bookwyrm
Doom of Public Libraries
- Location
- Wichita, Kansas
Really I think grounding them would be the worst punishment- it's in the name, no true void brat would be able to stand being treated like the most lubberly civie passenger to ever eat dirt. Maybe there'll even be some ceremonial Naval hazing tradition (because there's a Naval tradition for everything) where they're temporarily re-designated Junie and Zeph Landsman or something.
EDIT:
[X] Ground both of them
EDIT:
[X] Ground both of them
Last edited:
[X] Ground both of them
Although that grounding should also include study of the relevant technical manuals. If Junie wants to be a pilot that badly we should support her, provided she does it properly.
I think combining that with having them introduced to the Revenge crew as "Junie and Zeph Landsman" would be a suitable punishment.
Great idea @bookwyrm
Although that grounding should also include study of the relevant technical manuals. If Junie wants to be a pilot that badly we should support her, provided she does it properly.
I think combining that with having them introduced to the Revenge crew as "Junie and Zeph Landsman" would be a suitable punishment.
Great idea @bookwyrm
- Location
- USA
[x] Ground both of them
[x] Hire a governess - you can surely find a Schola Progenium somewhere in the Expanse
Last edited:
Hmmmmmm tough choices.
For the most part I find grounding to be appropriate, both because freedom of movement was the privilege abused, and because it's likely to be especially effective with this crop.
That said there were a couple points that were a bit more severe and bear considering. Namely theft of a boat and assault of one of our people.
At the same time I don't know if we have the social standing with them to make something more severe teach a lesson rather than breed resentment.
Can someone tell the 40k newb about the schola progenium?
For the most part I find grounding to be appropriate, both because freedom of movement was the privilege abused, and because it's likely to be especially effective with this crop.
That said there were a couple points that were a bit more severe and bear considering. Namely theft of a boat and assault of one of our people.
At the same time I don't know if we have the social standing with them to make something more severe teach a lesson rather than breed resentment.
Can someone tell the 40k newb about the schola progenium?
- Pronouns
- He/Him
they're basically catholic school mistresses in power armor!
10ebbor10
DON'T PANIC
- Location
- Present
Well, if it's her attitudè, then it's her attitude problem to solve. Clearly nothing can go wrong with that descision.
I am intrigued.
samdamandias
Apprentice Plane Wizard
[JK] Ask Phi for a brace of Serberys to act as bodyguards/minders for the children.
Because who doesn't love fire-breathing dog-pony-cyborg-things?
I am sorely tempted to turn Junior before the mast as a trainee pilot.. Tell her "you want to fly so badly? Sim runs start at o-Emperor-why hundred hours."
However, so far only one vote promises fun side characters.
[X] Hire a governess - you can surely find a Schola Progenium somewhere in the Expanse
Because who doesn't love fire-breathing dog-pony-cyborg-things?
Only the orders militant! We'd want someone from and order Famolus or maybe Dialogus. Most governesses come from the Orders Famolus.
I am sorely tempted to turn Junior before the mast as a trainee pilot.. Tell her "you want to fly so badly? Sim runs start at o-Emperor-why hundred hours."
However, so far only one vote promises fun side characters.
[X] Hire a governess - you can surely find a Schola Progenium somewhere in the Expanse
[X] Have them meet and apologize personally to all those that were hurt in the battle(or the loves ones of those lost in combat).
Holding them before the mast would be appropriate if this was a Navy ship, but they're budding Rogue Traders and that adventure seems pretty much in character as training for their future careers.
You don't want to beat the Rogue out of them, just make sure they realize their privilege and responsibility. All the other options are teaching a lesson that their actions have consequences FOR THEM, but if they're going to inherit one day, the lesson they need to learn is that their actions have consequences for OTHERS under their protection. And despite our losses being minimal on paper, I'm sure there were at least some lost in the boarding actions and fighter battles.
Holding them before the mast would be appropriate if this was a Navy ship, but they're budding Rogue Traders and that adventure seems pretty much in character as training for their future careers.
You don't want to beat the Rogue out of them, just make sure they realize their privilege and responsibility. All the other options are teaching a lesson that their actions have consequences FOR THEM, but if they're going to inherit one day, the lesson they need to learn is that their actions have consequences for OTHERS under their protection. And despite our losses being minimal on paper, I'm sure there were at least some lost in the boarding actions and fighter battles.
10ebbor10
DON'T PANIC
- Location
- Present
Problem is that we survived without a scratch.
[X] Break them up. If Riya wants to play at being a hot shot pilot, she can take June under her wing. First order of the day, very long boring patrols. Zeph gets to have a governess.
Last edited:
From the logs it looked like the Colossus took casualties: "Five Torpedoes Hit! 2, 0, 6, 0 damage! This does no damage, but it means 2 Hit and Run attacks happen! The hit and runs get 1 DOF and 1 DOS, while the resistance gets way, way, way more fail and 3 DOS. One hit and run is rebuffed, but the other does 3 crew, 3 morale, and knocks out the sensors (-30 to hit)"
10ebbor10
DON'T PANIC
- Location
- Present
That's the incident where they saved the entire ship though.
Sir_Travelsalot
Never wakes up tired.
- Location
- At Home
The Schola Progenium itself is a collection of academies across the length and breadth of the Imperium, which are largely funded and run by the Ecclesiarchy. The student body themselves consist more or less entirely of the Imperium's wards of the state; the orphans left behind by dead Imperial servants. Every Ecclesiarchal priest, from the humblest lower-hive preacher to the Cardinals managing entire Shrine Worlds, any adept of the Administratum, every single Guardsman/navy officer, should they die and leave behind children in the galaxy, are trained there to become the next generation of Administratum adepts, Commissars, Tempestus Scions, Arbites or sent to the various orders of the Adepta Sororitas for further training, depending on the aptitudes they display during their education. Some even might catch the eye of an Inquisitor and become an Acolyte.
Though, what DC was referring to as 'Catholic school mistresses in power armour' aren't actually Schola Progenium. From the description, they would be Sororitas from one of the Orders Famulous, which concern themselves with the education of the Imperial nobility into being capable, responsible rulers who put their duties to their domains above any selfish wants or baser impulses. Unfortunately, there aren't nearly enough members of the Orders Famulous to teach the children of every Imperial noble family in the galaxy, and even then, when the lessons stick, these upright and duty-driven noble scions often conclude that they can better serve the Imperium by fighting its enemies, so they get a commission as a Guard/Navy officer and fight and inevitably die.
As a side note, another duty the Orders Famulous concern themselves with is advising noble families in a greater capacity, as well as brokering marriages and keeping track of family trees to avoid inbreeding from occurring.
Last edited:
Xilentxium
Existential Crisis Management
- Location
- Temperate Regions
You know Sororitas, Naval Officers, Storm Troopers, and Commissars?
Yeah so those are all war orphans (or 'orphans') whose parents were usually from one of the Adeptas, Guard, Navy or other official Institution found and enrolled into the Schola to enjoy the joys of friendship, learning, playing Scrumball, combat drills with live ammunition and being under the tender hands of the Drill Abbots.
So hiring a teacher from there would mean hiring someone who was not only good enough to have been in the Sororitas/Commisariat/Storm Troopers, they were good enough to survive to retirement and start training the next few generations.
I bet there are tons of shipping wars in there, and I am here for it.
bookwyrm
Doom of Public Libraries
- Location
- Wichita, Kansas
Also as not quite a punishment thing, but something that could be constructive in the future as they're supposed to be trained and educated and rise through the ranks of the ship's junior officers under their own parents' eyes, we should definitely consider officially presenting them and enrolling them in the ship's company under non-Scourge secondary titles and fake pseudonyms so that legally their fellow ensigns and midshipmen can interact with them without the strict protocols demanded for the heir of a Lord of the Imperium and everyone can pretend that when a senior rating yelled at them right before they nearly blew up a plasma line that the crew-boss was merely berating some old Naval family's scion as according the custom of "toughing them up" unlike those inbred failson Lord-Generals in the Guard... as opposed to by law verbally dishonoring the House of Scourge and their ship's lords and masters. Something like "the Baroness of Hive Tarsus, June Karen-Pahlov"?
Last edited:
Sir_Travelsalot
Never wakes up tired.
- Location
- At Home
One thing to take into note about hiring a governess from the Schola Progenium; both Tine and Ryia are unsanctioned Psykers, and the Scholas are staffed by members of the Ecclesiarchy. Could very well cause conflict, to say nothing of how this potential for conflict might be passed down to our children, whom this governess will be in charge of the education of.
Just something to keep in mind.
Just something to keep in mind.