Solar Auxilia Officer Quest. A 30k Early Great Crusade quest.

Terran Preparations: Part 2
[] A biological Lifeguardian:
Work through your family to acquire a Lifeward from the Alpyne Tech Clan. They will be a butler and manservant genetically engineered to be loyal to you, augmented with hidden weapons, poison-detecting equipment, and a trained medicae.

Creations like these have a long history in the courts of Europe, and more than one assassination attempt has been foiled by one of these Lifeguardians and their integrated weaponry.
The Sallas Family increases cooperation with the Alpyne Tech Clan.
You acquire a cybernetic servant of unimpeachable loyalty.

[] Attend the grand ball of Albia:

Your mother's ambition knows no bounds, and she seeks to rise as high as she possibly can. Attend a formal gala held in Albia for the Urban Classes of Europe, Nordafrik, and Arabia, as they send out their sons to war. Proudly show your scars, mention your accomplishments, and ensure that your name is one known far and wide.
Increase the social status of the Sallas Family.

[] People from the gutter:

Jeanne still knows powerful individuals in the grey market. As Terra's rules and laws tighten, there are bound to be a lot of people who need a new paycheck. These are desperate men and women with firepower, and a desire for power and control over their lives. Work with Jeanne to find her former criminal partners and get them jobs within the Sallas Family. They will do honest work as security, and dishonest work against rivals.
Increase the security of the Sallas Family.
When you acquire a Retinue, you will have a loyal core of fighters.


You sink into the supple leather seat of your Grav-Car, watching through the side window as you pass across the Mediterranean Salt Flat. It is a vast expanse of glittering white interspersed by signs of mining and small mobile communities and habitats that eke out a living on the plains. Those few stretches that are unmarred glisten in the sun.

Your Chauffeur, the ever-reliable Elliot, expertly navigates through the air-corridor set aside for grav-vehicles like yours. The Grav-Car is an old model, a vintage M29 Renalt that has been in your family ever since your grandfather salvaged and restored it. Inside the passenger compartment is enough space for a dozen individuals to be transported in great luxury atop self-adjusting seats that provide the optimal shape to any who sit upon them. The interior is decorated with real lacquered wood and decorated with fine silver, and has enough drinks in the internal mini-fridge to make the anti-inebriation locks on the internal arms locker a very good idea.

The seats show signs of having accommodated many well-nourished passengers on long journeys. The compartment is filled with a subtle aroma, a faint hint of roses mixed with a fragrance reminiscent of a vineyard. You press a button and a crystal glass emerges from your arm-rest, already filled with cold water. You take a sip, enjoying the clear taste.

"How have you been, Elliot? Is your daughter still going to university?" You ask.

The Chauffeur sets the vehicle to automatic and turns to face you. "Excellent, Master Herrand. And no, she has graduated. She is currently a manager for Sallas's new Mercury orbital."

You nod. Your father has always rewarded his staff well by ensuring their children are educated and cared for. "That is good to hear. Is there anything I won't have been told regarding the estate?"

Elliot frowns for a moment. "It has been rather empty, Master Herrand, with your sisters marrying and your brother leaving for the naval academy."

We already treat him like he's dead. You think back to your oldest brother, Raphael taken away at twelve for Legion ascension.

Soon enough the salt flats give way to the southern outskirts of Franc, the old fortresses still stand there, although denuded of weapons as part of the surrender to the Imperium. The Grav-car's radfinder clicks a few times as you pass over the old battlefields surrounding the fortresses, left there as memorials to the war. Soon enough, though, the battlefields give way to the first of the agri-domes growing the region's abundant grapes.

The restoration of the countryside appears to be going well, as the brown and orange grass you remember is giving way to new restored strains of green grasses. Your eye catches the sight of Agri-domes surrounded by vast circular crop fields in the open air, covered by a lattice of mechanical arms that can move around and irrigate and tend to each plant. The old rivers are larger than you remember, with more water flowing than before. In the distance, an automated road-layer is trundling along in the direction of Pars. You frown. That means more tourists in this part of Franc.

The family estate is constructed like a fortress, a three-story mansion in the countryside surrounded by green grass, protected by thick walls with four towers with overlapping fields of fire. Life outside of the hive cities is still unsafe at times, and you wonder when was the last time the guards had to open fire on someone.

As the Grav-Car approaches the grand entrance of your family estate, the imposing iron gates swing open with a low, rumbling sound. The wheels of your vehicle roll smoothly over the cobblestones as you catch sight of the bustling activity within. Servants in crisp uniforms scurry about, loading trunks and crates onto waiting transport grav-carriages. The air is filled with a sense of anticipation and excitement.

Stepping out of the Grav-Car, you are greeted by the head butler, Julian, a distinguished man with silver hair and a finely waxed mustache. He bows deeply before you, his tone respectful yet efficient. "Welcome back, Master Herrand, your arrival is a balm to the worries we felt at word of your wounding." You note that the man's cheeks are drooping slightly, and his silver hair is turning a bit greyer than you remember. You worry that the Rejuvenation treatments are starting to wear off.

"Herrand." You hear the voice of your mother as she rushes down the stairs as fast as high heels allow. She quickly composes herself from the momentary outburst and kisses the side of your cheek in formal greeting. "It is good that you are doing well. Just in time as well, I would dread to attend the Albion Ball without our family representing its military ambitions."

"It is good to see you as well, mother. But what is this about needing a veteran to attend the ball. Is no one else available?"

"Oh, Javiert is currently deployed with his frigate. He is second in command now."

A frown nearly creases your face as your mother speaks of your older brother, Javiert. He was always the golden child since Raphael joined the Legion. He was talented and ambitious, and good with numbers and theoreticals in ways that you never were. While you had to make do with a position in a lesser Auxilia Cohort, he was able to pass the naval exams and become an officer in the navy.

"Very well," you say with a hint of bitterness. "I will attend the ball."

Your mother smiles, pleased that you have agreed. "Excellent. I will have the servants prepare your finest dress uniform. And I will have Piert give you a refresher in the modern dance trends. You cannot attend the Albion Ball without knowing how to properly waltz."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the thought of dance lessons, but you know it's a necessary part of attending high society events. If only you'd lost a leg instead of an arm. You could justify attending in a wheelchair.

As your mother ushers you inside the estate towards the parlor, you are bombarded with more questions and news from home. A fine seat is prepared, a cup of tea is thrust into your hands, and the busywork of gossip and familial planning begins. Your eldest sister Marianne has gotten engaged to an artificer of the Terrawat Clans, and the preparations for the wedding promise to be extravagant, while your second sister Annet is set to marry a rich businessman from the East-Merican Hive cluster. Your youngest sister, Francine, is not yet engaged, but you have no doubt that it will be arranged soon.

Were it not for you being a soldier, you would probably have been engaged to someone already. You push the thought aside and focus on planning for the ball.

"Mother, I will require a bodyguard, and access to a discretionary sum. It concerns my personal security."

"Absolutely. What were you thinking of?"

"I would like a Lifeguardian from the Alpynes. A biological one."

She narrows her eyes slightly at the request. "Expensive. You expect to need active protection then?" A nod from you confirms her suspicions. She takes a small silver bell from the table in front of her and rings it.

Julian immediately enters the room, awaiting instructions. Your mother motions to you. "Take a gene sample of Herrand and prepare it for transport. We will acquire a Lifeguardian for him." She turned back to you. "And the sum?"

"I have a subordinate who was part of a group of criminals looking for honest employment. She has recommended them as loyal and obedient, able to work security and possible wetworks."

A grin appears on your mother's lips at the mention of wetworks. "I knew you'd take after me the most. Give the names to Julian when we leave, everything will be arranged by the time you leave the ball. Former criminals are a very reliable source of muscle, and we are in need of the additional protection."

The rest of the evening is spent in planning out the expansion of House Sallas's security services and the expanded recruitment.



From the operating theater overlooking the alchemical laboratory, you examine your new protector taking shape. The room is one of shining chrome machinery that dances with lights, surrounding a large central vat inside of which a metallic skeleton floats in a bed of displacement fields as eight mechanical arms descending from the ceiling apply layers of biological material onto the base.

The Alpyne Gene-Alchemist seems to hover over the floor as they adjust vials and set levels for the arcane machinery, their long white robe dragging over the polished metal. The smell of ozone fills the air as something begins to hum. You feel an awkard sensation in your mouth, the roots of your upper molars starting to itch something fierce.

You explore the odd feeling with your tongue, but find no blood.

The alchemist twitches slightly as short mechadendrites with metal hands at the end move to manipulate a pair of holographic orbs above their control station, their motions mimicked in the vat by two of the manipulators working upon the vat.

A mechanical servant approaches, offering you a tray with a selection of sweetmeats and a cup of recaff. You shake your head.

"The halls of your compound are emptier than they should be." You remark.

A weary grin appears on the alchemist's face. "Our Psi-Techs departed to assist the Master of Mankind in the construction of His Astronomicon. It is only our Aestechs, Bio-Alchemists, and Weaponsmiths that have not been employed into His service."

"And the Martians must be taking much of your business." You note.

"To an extent. Terra's technological base largely remains its own. This creation, while legal, would be considered profane among the Mechanicum of Mars."

After a moment's pause, his head quirks slightly. "Are you psi-sensitive?"

You frown. "I've failed every mandatory psychic aptitude test, and several voluntary ones. I am no mind-witch."

The alchemist does not blink. "I did not ask if you were psychic, merely if you were sensitive. When the-" He says a string of gibberish that causes your mind to blank for a moment. "- activated, you began feeling your gums."

That is a remark you weren't expecting. "Psykana makes your teeth ache?"

A nod like a teacher speaking to a child that made a good but ultimately wrong guess. "Evolution in the making, Sallas Child. Many populations on Terra have begun to develop a sensitivity towards Immaterial phenomena. It manifests as a twitch of the eyelid, an ache of the gums, a pang in the muscles."

You turn back to face the growing Lifeguardian, trying to change the subject. "What sex will it be?"

The Gene-Alchemist scoffs. "It is a construct of cloned flesh with artificial chromosomes. It has a sex as much as your gun." With that, he resumes his work. Before adding. "Female, so it can be disguised as "arm candy" by your side. But if need be, you can modify it. It will take a day to reshape itself"

You blink. He actually used all his arms for those air quotes.

"Do tell your Matriarch that the Alpyne Tech Clans appreciate the patronage, and that we hope to engage in further trade going forward."

Your retinue has expanded:
Lifeguardian: A bio-synthetic android in the form of a tasteful mistress, equipped with numerous internal and digital weapons, ready to defend you at a moment's notice from assassination attempts.




Albia has long been one of the strongest supporters of the Imperium, although less so than Franc, you note proudly. You take in the sights from your aircar. Great geoformation engines crawl across the base of the lost ocean, cracking rocks for hydrogen and oxygen as part of restoring Terra's oceans, feeding great reservoirs through flexible pipe networks. Regular canister drops slam down from orbit into areas set aside for oceanic formation.

In the distance, the great Londyn Hive is covered with gantries and sky-cranes as the Mason Guilds and local techno-clans restore the hive with Imperial stipends. It is already twice as tall as it was as a ruin at the start of the Unification Wars. A vast expanse of ice fifty kilometers across spreads across the southern end, part of the hive's massive heat exchange and regulation network. Like many Terran hives with heat exchange systems like this, the area is used for recreation. Although not today, for tonight a palace has been constructed upon the ice.

When you arrive, you are escorted to the middle entrance for the officers and lower aristocracy by the guards, soldiers of the Parliamentary Guard clad in fine red uniforms with long black hats, each carrying an ornate plasma rifle. They silently escort you, their vocal cords removed as part of their induction into the illustrious order
The grand doors of the Albian Ball swing open on smoothly oiled hinges, the sound of gossip and fine music flowing out into the cold night. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling like stalactites that shimmer in soft light. The walls are decorated with rich velvets and fine art that you recognize as being far too extravagant for most nobles to show off. Nobles from all corners of post-Unity Earth mingle in elaborate attires shimmering with gemstones and pieces of high technology. Ladies don gowns that flow like cascading waterfalls of silk and satin, the dresses kept off the floor with adjusting suspensor discs.

Young men and women throughout the ball are clad in fine dress uniforms, each proudly showing off the regiments that they have joined.

Your mother's stern voice shatters your reverie as you approach the grandeur. "Remember," she instructs, "you carry our family's dignity and the Imperium's aspirations." Her eyes are steely, but not judgemental, merely focused upon the importance of the moment.

As you enter, several heads turn to regard you- you recognize many as minor nobility, guild masters, merchants, and influential politicians. The air teems with murmurs and whispers; violins and flutes craft a fine melody. You take a deep breath, and throw yourself into the crowd.

It takes a while to get going, but you quickly get the hang of it. Upon the dance floor you move with the heiresses of factory dynasties and sweep the children of generals off the floor. At the dining table you recount stories of Neptune, showing off your new arms, and playing off your martial valour and glory. It does not take long, before those who listen are hanging on your every word.

When you departed the ball, you left a positive impression and made it clear that you would be a person to watch, in the many long years to come.



In the end, your medical leave is shorter than you'd like, and the impromptu nature meant that most of your relatives were not available for you to meet with them. But it was nevertheless a refreshing thing for you. The following months the training of using the new Solar Auxilia vehicles progressed smoothly, involving multiple large-scale training exercises conducted against Imperial Army regiments of equivalent theoretical strength. In these endless war games, three regiments stood out.

You made friends with one regiment, entered a rivalry with another, and found yourselves hating a third.

(Note: Imperial Regiments can be called a Brigade/Army due to historical precedent. But each force you will face, will be Cohort-Strength.)

Plan voting.
-Choose one Regiment that your Cohort: has befriended.
-Choose one Regiment that your Cohort: has a friendly rivalry with.
-Choose one Regiment that your Cohort: can NOT get along with.


This is a narrative vote. Do not think about mechanics.

[] 1st The Nord-Am First Lancers:

An ancient pre-imperial regiment that marches under faded red white and blue flags held inside flexible stasis envelopes. Having served the Imperium since the earliest days of the Imperium, and supposedly slightly before, as the East Coast Hive they originated from, joined the Imperium the very day it was proclaimed. The Nord Am First Lancers are the oldest still-extant regiment on Terra, and they want people to know it.
The Nord-Am First Lancers are a large superheavy tank regiment. They field a combination of indigenous vehicle and tank designs based upon ancient provenance, new imperial designs, and a handful of Dark Age Relics only they know how to maintain.

[] 8th Nordafrik Resistance Army:

The cities of Nordafrik have a long history of defending themselves against invasions, be it against Ursh in the Age of Strife, warlords, Xenos raiders, or even early Imperial incursions. The Resistance Army is a large infantry heavy force that advances slowly and crushes all in their path under heavy artillery, tank assaults, and massed infantry assaults.

The Nordafrik Resistance Army is a predominantly infantry-based formation specialised in entrenchment and siege warfare.

[] 5th The Anzakk Heavy Brigade:

The Anzakk Heavy Brigade are a fully mechanised regiment that has fought for the Imperium since the conquest of Ind, where an enslaved population forced into a slave army rebelled and joined the Imperium, their stories leading to their homeland of Australis joining the Imperium. The Anzakk Hive provided the early Imperium with much of the power armour used by the Thunder Legions, and maintain their own power-armored formations ever since.

The Anzakk Heavy Brigade is a relatively small force of mechanised infantry equipped with suits of strife-era power armour that would go on to inspire early Thunder Armour.

[] 1st Scott Upland Tercios:

Techno-Barbarian tribes of northern Albia that maintained a strict social order throughout the Age of Strife in the form of a series of clans. For centuries they terrorized their neighbours as great screaming hordes that nevertheless fought with training and drill. These warriors were chosen to become Solar Auxilia due to having a large population, remaining technical knowledge, and a compatible culture. The Scott Upland Tercios main deviation from the Solar Pattern is the replacement of Storm-Axes with power pikes, and fighting to music loud enough to deafen anyone not wearing a helmet.

The Scott Upland Tercios are equipped exactly the same way you are except for fielding power-pikes instead of Storm Axe infantry

[] 9th Viet Airmobile:

An airmobile regiment raised from the outskirts of the Pan-Pacific Empire's. This force is heavily dependent upon aerial drops, fire support, and rapid movement. Upon their defeat, the Pan-Pacific forces went to ground and joined with the locals in a brutal guerilla war against the Imperium that turned into a bleeding ulcer for the early Imperium. Once it became clear the Imperium was not another Techno-Barbarian state and actually sought to uplift Terra, the same soldiers that had mauled a Thunder Warriors Legion went on to lead the conquest of the Yndonessic Bloc.

The Viet Airmobile are a fully airmobile army force of infantry trained in massed aerial deployments behind enemy lines.

[] The Golden Hegara:

The Golden Hegara are a force of cavalry equipped with indigenously produced las and plasma weapons from the Bakk-makkan Hive. Each suit of Carapace worn by these soldiers is a masterwork of black and gold, engraved with arabyc mosaics and astrological symbols. The Golden Hegara use cybernetic horses descended from meticulously catalogued pre-Dark Age stock. Although mocked by some as archaic, those who saw the Golden Hegara counter-charging the ever-screaming flesh hive beasts of Basilio Fo know they are beyond braver.

The Golden Hegara are a cavalry regiment equally at home using their mounts for transport through hostile environments as they are in charging flesh-beasts and psi-horrors with explosive lances.



I am back. Was distracted by the new World of Warcraft release.

Think this through well.
4 hour Moratorium on voting.
 
Scheduled vote count started by Mayto on Sep 14, 2024 at 5:31 PM, finished with 49 posts and 29 votes.
 
[] 1st Scott Upland Tercios:
Techno-Barbarian tribes of northern Albia that maintained a strict social order throughout the Age of Strife in the form of a series of clans. For centuries they terrorized their neighbours as great screaming hordes that nevertheless fought with training and drill. These warriors were chosen to become Solar Auxilia due to having a large population, remaining technical knowledge, and a compatible culture. The Scott Upland Tercios main deviation from the Solar Pattern is the replacement of Storm-Axes with power pikes, and fighting to music loud enough to deafen anyone not wearing a helmet.
Lets see if the Auld Alliance will be reborn in space.
 
[X] Friends with the Viets, Rivals with the Scotts, Enemies(?) with the Las/Plasma Hegaras.
-[X] Friends with the 9th Viet Airmobile.
-[X] Rivals with the 1st Scott Upland Tercios.
-[X] Enemies(?) with the The Golden Hegara.

...just throwing this out. But since this is a narrative choice (and eventually will become a narrative quest), I don't mind what ends up winning. :V
 
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[] 1st The Nord-Am First Lancers:
An ancient pre-imperial regiment that marches under faded red white and blue flags held inside flexible stasis envelopes. Having served the Imperium since the earliest days of the Imperium, and supposedly slightly before, as the East Coast Hive they originated from, joined the Imperium the very day it was proclaimed. The Nord Am First Lancers are the oldest still-extant regiment on Terra, and they want people to know it.
The Nord-Am First Lancers are a large superheavy tank regiment. They field a combination of indigenous vehicle and tank designs based upon ancient provenance, new imperial designs, and a handful of Dark Age Relics only they know how to maintain.
Enemies with the Americans is a natural choice simply because the second we interact they will immediately make fun of us for surrendering during WW2. Doesn't matter if it was nearly 28,000 years ago, they will do it anyways.
 
[-] Friends with the Viets, Rivals with the Scotts, Enemies(?) with the Las/Plasma Hegaras.
-[X] Friends with the 9th Viet Airmobile.
-[X] Rivals with the 1st Scott Upland Tercios.
-[X] Enemies(?) with the The Golden Hegara.

...just throwing this out. But since this is a narrative choice (and eventually will become a narrative quest), I don't mind what ends up winning. :V
Actually like this, but I think I'll take American friendship. With how much relic tech we start to surround ourselves it would do well to take some interest in the stuff.
[] Plan Blast From The Past
-[] Friendship: 1st The Nord-Am First Lancers
-[] Friendly Rivalry: 1st Scott Upland Tercios
-[] Dislike: The Golden Hegara
 
I like Blast from the past, mainly because it's a neat symmetry for ancient history and more practically the lost tech will hilariously fucking useful to keep ourselves alive and possibly get info to send home for the manufactories
 
[] Plan: Overpaid, Oversexed and Over Here!
-[] Friendship: 8th Nordafrik Resistance Army
-[] Friendly Rivalry: 9th Viet Airmobile
-[] Dislike: 1st The Nord-Am First Lancers
 
Hmm.

[] Plan: Elan!
-[] Friends: The Golden Hegara
-[] Rivals: 9th Viet Airmobile
-[] Hate: 1st The Nord-Am First Lancers

The Nord-Am seem like the kind of regiment that would immediately get under the skin of us and other Franc officers with that attitude, plus what everyone else said already, so they can be hated. The Viet Airmobile looks like they went the other way and instead became completely airmobile where we went fully mechanized, which could be the base of a fun rivalry over who's got the better tactics. The Golden Hegara just got that elan, and we can respect that.
 
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[X] Plan Winds Astern
- [X] Friendship: The Golden Hegara
- [X] Rivalry: 1st Scott Upland Tercios
- [X] Enemies: 1st The Nord-Am First Lancers

Placement is largely the same as Hex's reasoning for the Nord-Am Lancers and the Golden Hegara -- even if not one-for-one, the latters' courage and stickler to tradition is something worth respecting.

Can't go wrong with the friendly rivalry with the not-Scots plus the same-doctrines, much ground for good-natured (if not bloody) competition at the Xenos' expense.
 
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[X] Friends with the Viets, Rivals with the Scotts, Enemies(?) with the Las/Plasma Hegaras.
-[X] Friends with the 9th Viet Airmobile.
-[X] Rivals with the 1st Scott Upland Tercios.
-[X] Enemies(?) with the The Golden Hegara.

Auld alliance rivalry for the win.
 
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[X] Friends with the Viets, Rivals with the Scotts, Enemies(?) with the Las/Plasma Hegaras.
-[X] Friends with the 9th Viet Airmobile.
-[X] Rivals with the 1st Scott Upland Tercios.
-[X] Enemies(?) with the The Golden Hegara.

As a note to people voting for this Plan, please change the '-' to 'x'. :V
 
[X] Plan Winds Astern
- [X] Friendship: The Golden Hegara
- [X] Rivalry: 1st Scott Upland Tercios
- [X] Enemies: 1st The Nord-Am First Lancers
 
[X] Plan Winds Astern

Mostly because I like big cybernetic xenos killing horses and folks songs. Still mildly disappointed people voted for a poncy noble git and didn't get him into a Rough Rider formation.


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=TVh88CkBIKw


View: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=gh2g57CzF7w

[X] Plan I Like Big Mounts And I Cannot Lie
-[X] Friendship: 1st The Nord-Am First Lancers
-[X] Friendly Rivalry: The Golden Hegara
-[X] Dislike: 8th Nordafrik Resistance Army

I like this plan too - given how moving warfare has been good for us and trench warfare has been a pain in the formerly-missing arms, I think our plucky nobleman would dislike folks who hold up trench warfare as their bread and butter, and would seek to make friends with moving piles of guns.
 
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You sink into the supple leather seat of your Grav-Car, watching through the side window as you pass across the Mediterranean Salt Flat. It is a vast expanse of glittering white interspersed by signs of mining and small mobile communities and habitats that eke out a living on the plains. Those few stretches that are unmarred glisten in the sun.

So much salt, even after the ends of the world, people still need their sodium :p

Your Chauffeur, the ever-reliable Elliot, expertly navigates through the air-corridor set aside for grav-vehicles like yours. The Grav-Car is an old model, a vintage M29 Renalt that has been in your family ever since your grandfather salvaged and restored it. Inside the passenger compartment is enough space for a dozen individuals to be transported in great luxury atop self-adjusting seats that provide the optimal shape to any who sit upon them. The interior is decorated with real lacquered wood and decorated with fine silver, and has enough drinks in the internal mini-fridge to make the anti-inebriation locks on the internal arms locker a very good idea.

Nice to see more backstory on the family and the MC, certainly sounds like an exquisitely luxurious car...and the Sallas family are only considered 'new rich'...imagine what the opulent nobles have.

The seats show signs of having accommodated many well-nourished passengers on long journeys. The compartment is filled with a subtle aroma, a faint hint of roses mixed with a fragrance reminiscent of a vineyard. You press a button and a crystal glass emerges from your arm-rest, already filled with cold water. You take a sip, enjoying the clear taste.

"How have you been, Elliot? Is your daughter still going to university?" You ask.

The Chauffeur sets the vehicle to automatic and turns to face you. "Excellent, Master Herrand. And no, she has graduated. She is currently a manager for Sallas's new Mercury orbital."

Good good, glad to see the family's help's family is doing well :p

You nod. Your father has always rewarded his staff well by ensuring their children are educated and cared for. "That is good to hear. Is there anything I won't have been told regarding the estate?"

Elliot frowns for a moment. "It has been rather empty, Master Herrand, with your sisters marrying and your brother leaving for the naval academy."

We already treat him like he's dead. You think back to your oldest brother, Raphael taken away at twelve for Legion ascension.

Indeed, you take care of your people and they will be intensely loyal.

I guess the estate is rather bare without younglings at the moment. Hopefully our siblings will fill it with children eventually. WE need to find a planet to set up a place to fill with OUR kiddos :p

Soon enough the salt flats give way to the southern outskirts of Franc, the old fortresses still stand there, although denuded of weapons as part of the surrender to the Imperium. The Grav-car's radfinder clicks a few times as you pass over the old battlefields surrounding the fortresses, left there as memorials to the war. Soon enough, though, the battlefields give way to the first of the agri-domes growing the region's abundant grapes.

The restoration of the countryside appears to be going well, as the brown and orange grass you remember is giving way to new restored strains of green grasses. Your eye catches the sight of Agri-domes surrounded by vast circular crop fields in the open air, covered by a lattice of mechanical arms that can move around and irrigate and tend to each plant. The old rivers are larger than you remember, with more water flowing than before. In the distance, an automated road-layer is trundling along in the direction of Pars. You frown. That means more tourists in this part of Franc.

I like this, it's very cool to see Terra being restored...which makes the destruction and transformation into a toxic hive planet all the more pang inducing.

The family estate is constructed like a fortress, a three-story mansion in the countryside surrounded by green grass, protected by thick walls with four towers with overlapping fields of fire. Life outside of the hive cities is still unsafe at times, and you wonder when was the last time the guards had to open fire on someone.

As the Grav-Car approaches the grand entrance of your family estate, the imposing iron gates swing open with a low, rumbling sound. The wheels of your vehicle roll smoothly over the cobblestones as you catch sight of the bustling activity within. Servants in crisp uniforms scurry about, loading trunks and crates onto waiting transport grav-carriages. The air is filled with a sense of anticipation and excitement.

This really does a nice job of helping me envision it like all those shows and movies about the french nobility and their estates. The big parteh is going to go well hopefully.

Stepping out of the Grav-Car, you are greeted by the head butler, Julian, a distinguished man with silver hair and a finely waxed mustache. He bows deeply before you, his tone respectful yet efficient. "Welcome back, Master Herrand, your arrival is a balm to the worries we felt at word of your wounding." You note that the man's cheeks are drooping slightly, and his silver hair is turning a bit greyer than you remember. You worry that the Rejuvenation treatments are starting to wear off.

"Herrand." You hear the voice of your mother as she rushes down the stairs as fast as high heels allow. She quickly composes herself from the momentary outburst and kisses the side of your cheek in formal greeting. "It is good that you are doing well. Just in time as well, I would dread to attend the Albion Ball without our family representing its military ambitions."

Of course the head butler has an impeccable mustache.

and even rejuv treatments have a limited effect, wonder how long Julian has left in him.

Hehehe, like that the mom was excited to greet her son asap and then remembered she is supposed to be fanceh and composed. Is good.

"It is good to see you as well, mother. But what is this about needing a veteran to attend the ball. Is no one else available?"

"Oh, Javiert is currently deployed with his frigate. He is second in command now."

A frown nearly creases your face as your mother speaks of your older brother, Javiert. He was always the golden child since Raphael joined the Legion. He was talented and ambitious, and good with numbers and theoreticals in ways that you never were. While you had to make do with a position in a lesser Auxilia Cohort, he was able to pass the naval exams and become an officer in the navy.

Ah, so that's another aspect of our ambition, the desire to upstage the golden child sibling. Noted.

"Very well," you say with a hint of bitterness. "I will attend the ball."

Your mother smiles, pleased that you have agreed. "Excellent. I will have the servants prepare your finest dress uniform. And I will have Piert give you a refresher in the modern dance trends. You cannot attend the Albion Ball without knowing how to properly waltz."

You resist the urge to roll your eyes at the thought of dance lessons, but you know it's a necessary part of attending high society events. If only you'd lost a leg instead of an arm. You could justify attending in a wheelchair.

Ballroom dancing is fun, but it requires a partner you enjoy spending time with.

Sadly our boi is not in le mood. The things we do to get ahead for the family.

As your mother ushers you inside the estate towards the parlor, you are bombarded with more questions and news from home. A fine seat is prepared, a cup of tea is thrust into your hands, and the busywork of gossip and familial planning begins. Your eldest sister Marianne has gotten engaged to an artificer of the Terrawat Clans, and the preparations for the wedding promise to be extravagant, while your second sister Annet is set to marry a rich businessman from the East-Merican Hive cluster. Your youngest sister, Francine, is not yet engaged, but you have no doubt that it will be arranged soon.

Were it not for you being a soldier, you would probably have been engaged to someone already. You push the thought aside and focus on planning for the ball.

Oh, so our sisters got us an in with the Terrawat clans, that's going to pay off dividends in the long term. Hopefully she can put us in contact with someone to do work for us.

Marrying into Merican business will only expand our profits I'm sure.

Hopefully Francine gets a suitable match she can be happy with.

"Mother, I will require a bodyguard, and access to a discretionary sum. It concerns my personal security."

"Absolutely. What were you thinking of?"

"I would like a Lifeguardian from the Alpynes. A biological one."

She narrows her eyes slightly at the request. "Expensive. You expect to need active protection then?" A nod from you confirms her suspicions. She takes a small silver bell from the table in front of her and rings it.

Yup, with how politics are getting in the cohort, we need to make sure we don't get ganked. So we want the best.

Julian immediately enters the room, awaiting instructions. Your mother motions to you. "Take a gene sample of Herrand and prepare it for transport. We will acquire a Lifeguardian for him." She turned back to you. "And the sum?"

"I have a subordinate who was part of a group of criminals looking for honest employment. She has recommended them as loyal and obedient, able to work security and possible wetworks."

A grin appears on your mother's lips at the mention of wetworks. "I knew you'd take after me the most. Give the names to Julian when we leave, everything will be arranged by the time you leave the ball. Former criminals are a very reliable source of muscle, and we are in need of the additional protection."

The rest of the evening is spent in planning out the expansion of House Sallas's security services and the expanded recruitment.

Yey, mother dearest likes our networking. I am very happy to hear it. Getting these guys in early is going to get us a solid cadre of muscle for...private matters. Our retinue is going to be scruffy but effective.

From the operating theater overlooking the alchemical laboratory, you examine your new protector taking shape. The room is one of shining chrome machinery that dances with lights, surrounding a large central vat inside of which a metallic skeleton floats in a bed of displacement fields as eight mechanical arms descending from the ceiling apply layers of biological material onto the base.

Man this is a surreal mental image to have, like watching a flesh golem being assembled...which, tbf, it is.

The Alpyne Gene-Alchemist seems to hover over the floor as they adjust vials and set levels for the arcane machinery, their long white robe dragging over the polished metal. The smell of ozone fills the air as something begins to hum. You feel an awkard sensation in your mouth, the roots of your upper molars starting to itch something fierce.

You explore the odd feeling with your tongue, but find no blood.

Heh, i wonder what stray radiation we're in range of with all the cobbled tech we're dealing with here.

The alchemist twitches slightly as short mechadendrites with metal hands at the end move to manipulate a pair of holographic orbs above their control station, their motions mimicked in the vat by two of the manipulators working upon the vat.

A mechanical servant approaches, offering you a tray with a selection of sweetmeats and a cup of recaff. You shake your head.

Snaccs are appreciated, but when you're watching your assembled bodyguard being put together, it tends to put you off your nosh.

"The halls of your compound are emptier than they should be." You remark.

A weary grin appears on the alchemist's face. "Our Psi-Techs departed to assist the Master of Mankind in the construction of His Astronomicon. It is only our Aestechs, Bio-Alchemists, and Weaponsmiths that have not been employed into His service."

Indeed, getting the astronomicon set up has to be an immense work to put it mildly. That being said, if we can get more deals with who remain, that could really improve our quality.

"And the Martians must be taking much of your business." You note.

"To an extent. Terra's technological base largely remains its own. This creation, while legal, would be considered profane among the Mechanicum of Mars."

and Big E likes to play off the terrawat clans against the admech, to the betterment of the Imperium. Bit odd that the genebodyguard would be considered profane but eh, its why we're going to these guys.

After a moment's pause, his head quirks slightly. "Are you psi-sensitive?"

You frown. "I've failed every mandatory psychic aptitude test, and several voluntary ones. I am no mind-witch."

Oh, is that what the funny teeth moment was? Hmm, if we're psyker sensitive, then that could be another reason why our family was viable for space marine implantation.

The alchemist does not blink. "I did not ask if you were psychic, merely if you were sensitive. When the-" He says a string of gibberish that causes your mind to blank for a moment. "- activated, you began feeling your gums."

That is a remark you weren't expecting. "Psykana makes your teeth ache?"

A nod like a teacher speaking to a child that made a good but ultimately wrong guess. "Evolution in the making, Sallas Child. Many populations on Terra have begun to develop a sensitivity towards Immaterial phenomena. It manifests as a twitch of the eyelid, an ache of the gums, a pang in the muscles."

Hmmm, this could definitely be something to keep in mind for making marriage deals.

You turn back to face the growing Lifeguardian, trying to change the subject. "What sex will it be?"

The Gene-Alchemist scoffs. "It is a construct of cloned flesh with artificial chromosomes. It has a sex as much as your gun." With that, he resumes his work. Before adding. "Female, so it can be disguised as "arm candy" by your side. But if need be, you can modify it. It will take a day to reshape itself"

You blink. He actually used all his arms for those air quotes.

"Do tell your Matriarch that the Alpyne Tech Clans appreciate the patronage, and that we hope to engage in further trade going forward."

Your retinue has expanded:
Lifeguardian: A bio-synthetic android in the form of a tasteful mistress, equipped with numerous internal and digital weapons, ready to defend you at a moment's notice from assassination attempts.

Hahahaha, I love the mass air quotes bit. Makes sense to have it be female though, to allow it to be underestimated and thus get the drop on any attackers.

I do hope we can get further deals down the line, this is a very nice connection to have.

Albia has long been one of the strongest supporters of the Imperium, although less so than Franc, you note proudly. You take in the sights from your aircar. Great geoformation engines crawl across the base of the lost ocean, cracking rocks for hydrogen and oxygen as part of restoring Terra's oceans, feeding great reservoirs through flexible pipe networks. Regular canister drops slam down from orbit into areas set aside for oceanic formation.

Yeah the lack of oceans never made much sense to me, especially with the lazy way that GW excused it. Still, it's good to see the oceans coming back. I wonder if the sea life was in the process of being restored.

In the distance, the great Londyn Hive is covered with gantries and sky-cranes as the Mason Guilds and local techno-clans restore the hive with Imperial stipends. It is already twice as tall as it was as a ruin at the start of the Unification Wars. A vast expanse of ice fifty kilometers across spreads across the southern end, part of the hive's massive heat exchange and regulation network. Like many Terran hives with heat exchange systems like this, the area is used for recreation. Although not today, for tonight a palace has been constructed upon the ice.

Kek, if you're going to have a big mass of ice and snow, might as well take advantage of it, and have some winter wonderland fun.

When you arrive, you are escorted to the middle entrance for the officers and lower aristocracy by the guards, soldiers of the Parliamentary Guard clad in fine red uniforms with long black hats, each carrying an ornate plasma rifle. They silently escort you, their vocal cords removed as part of their induction into the illustrious order
The grand doors of the Albian Ball swing open on smoothly oiled hinges, the sound of gossip and fine music flowing out into the cold night. Crystal chandeliers hang from the ceiling like stalactites that shimmer in soft light. The walls are decorated with rich velvets and fine art that you recognize as being far too extravagant for most nobles to show off. Nobles from all corners of post-Unity Earth mingle in elaborate attires shimmering with gemstones and pieces of high technology. Ladies don gowns that flow like cascading waterfalls of silk and satin, the dresses kept off the floor with adjusting suspensor discs.

Ah the beefeaters, I am both amused and unsurprised that they are still around even in the post apoc setting of the great crusade.

But it's easy to forget that while the nobles and notables party as they are now...that there are still countless men and women fighting and dying against horrors unimaginable out in the void. Let what we do here ensure that our men die less when it comes to it.

Young men and women throughout the ball are clad in fine dress uniforms, each proudly showing off the regiments that they have joined.

Your mother's stern voice shatters your reverie as you approach the grandeur. "Remember," she instructs, "you carry our family's dignity and the Imperium's aspirations." Her eyes are steely, but not judgemental, merely focused upon the importance of the moment.

This is a battlefield of influence and presentation, let us conquer it as we shall our futurehomeworld!

As you enter, several heads turn to regard you- you recognize many as minor nobility, guild masters, merchants, and influential politicians. The air teems with murmurs and whispers; violins and flutes craft a fine melody. You take a deep breath, and throw yourself into the crowd.

It takes a while to get going, but you quickly get the hang of it. Upon the dance floor you move with the heiresses of factory dynasties and sweep the children of generals off the floor. At the dining table you recount stories of Neptune, showing off your new arms, and playing off your martial valour and glory. It does not take long, before those who listen are hanging on your every word.

When you departed the ball, you left a positive impression and made it clear that you would be a person to watch, in the many long years to come.

Good, goooood, Let Herrand Sallas become the byword of Francish conquest and glory in the name of the Imperium!

In the end, your medical leave is shorter than you'd like, and the impromptu nature meant that most of your relatives were not available for you to meet with them. But it was nevertheless a refreshing thing for you. The following months the training of using the new Solar Auxilia vehicles progressed smoothly, involving multiple large-scale training exercises conducted against Imperial Army regiments of equivalent theoretical strength. In these endless war games, three regiments stood out.

Shame we couldn't meet more of the family but good we could touch base and do some good work on improving our family situation.

You made friends with one regiment, entered a rivalry with another, and found yourselves hating a third.
(Note: Imperial Regiments can be called a Brigade/Army due to historical precedent. But each force you will face, will be Cohort-Strength.)

Hmmm, I wonder who we shall meet...

Plan voting.
-Choose one Regiment that your Cohort: has befriended.
-Choose one Regiment that your Cohort: has a friendly rivalry with.
-Choose one Regiment that your Cohort: can NOT get along with.


This is a narrative vote. Do not think about mechanics.

Noted, in that case, rule of cool and rule of awesome reign!

[] 1st The Nord-Am First Lancers:
An ancient pre-imperial regiment that marches under faded red white and blue flags held inside flexible stasis envelopes. Having served the Imperium since the earliest days of the Imperium, and supposedly slightly before, as the East Coast Hive they originated from, joined the Imperium the very day it was proclaimed. The Nord Am First Lancers are the oldest still-extant regiment on Terra, and they want people to know it.
The Nord-Am First Lancers are a large superheavy tank regiment. They field a combination of indigenous vehicle and tank designs based upon ancient provenance, new imperial designs, and a handful of Dark Age Relics only they know how to maintain.

Oooh, very cool, I have to admit that beeg tanks and very patriotic tankers speak to the dweller of the evil empire in me.

[] 8th Nordafrik Resistance Army:
The cities of Nordafrik have a long history of defending themselves against invasions, be it against Ursh in the Age of Strife, warlords, Xenos raiders, or even early Imperial incursions. The Resistance Army is a large infantry heavy force that advances slowly and crushes all in their path under heavy artillery, tank assaults, and massed infantry assaults.

The Nordafrik Resistance Army is a predominantly infantry-based formation specialised in entrenchment and siege warfare.

Nice, nice, they'd probably get along with the Iron Warriors.

[] 5th The Anzakk Heavy Brigade:
The Anzakk Heavy Brigade are a fully mechanised regiment that has fought for the Imperium since the conquest of Ind, where an enslaved population forced into a slave army rebelled and joined the Imperium, their stories leading to their homeland of Australis joining the Imperium. The Anzakk Hive provided the early Imperium with much of the power armour used by the Thunder Legions, and maintain their own power-armored formations ever since.

The Anzakk Heavy Brigade is a relatively small force of mechanised infantry equipped with suits of strife-era power armour that would go on to inspire early Thunder Armour.

Oh power armor troops, this could be cool too.

[] 1st Scott Upland Tercios:
Techno-Barbarian tribes of northern Albia that maintained a strict social order throughout the Age of Strife in the form of a series of clans. For centuries they terrorized their neighbours as great screaming hordes that nevertheless fought with training and drill. These warriors were chosen to become Solar Auxilia due to having a large population, remaining technical knowledge, and a compatible culture. The Scott Upland Tercios main deviation from the Solar Pattern is the replacement of Storm-Axes with power pikes, and fighting to music loud enough to deafen anyone not wearing a helmet.

The Scott Upland Tercios are equipped exactly the same way you are except for fielding power-pikes instead of Storm Axe infantry

Ah, post apoc scotts, tis much cool indeed. Not gonna lie, is ied between them and the tankers for most epic friends

[] 9th Viet Airmobile:
An airmobile regiment raised from the outskirts of the Pan-Pacific Empire's. This force is heavily dependent upon aerial drops, fire support, and rapid movement. Upon their defeat, the Pan-Pacific forces went to ground and joined with the locals in a brutal guerilla war against the Imperium that turned into a bleeding ulcer for the early Imperium. Once it became clear the Imperium was not another Techno-Barbarian state and actually sought to uplift Terra, the same soldiers that had mauled a Thunder Warriors Legion went on to lead the conquest of the Yndonessic Bloc.

The Viet Airmobile are a fully airmobile army force of infantry trained in massed aerial deployments behind enemy lines.

Ah, some things never change.

[] The Golden Hegara:
The Golden Hegara are a force of cavalry equipped with indigenously produced las and plasma weapons from the Bakk-makkan Hive. Each suit of Carapace worn by these soldiers is a masterwork of black and gold, engraved with arabyc mosaics and astrological symbols. The Golden Hegara use cybernetic horses descended from meticulously catalogued pre-Dark Age stock. Although mocked by some as archaic, those who saw the Golden Hegara counter-charging the ever-screaming flesh hive beasts of Basilio Fo know they are beyond braver.

The Golden Hegara are a cavalry regiment equally at home using their mounts for transport through hostile environments as they are in charging flesh-beasts and psi-horrors with explosive lances.

Techno cavalry...they do seem suitably epic for sure.
 
[X] Plan Blast From The Past
-[X] Friendship: 1st The Nord-Am First Lancers
-[X] Friendly Rivalry: 1st Scott Upland Tercios
-[X] Dislike: The Golden Hegara

[X] Plan: Overpaid, Oversexed and Over Here!
-[X] Friendship: 8th Nordafrik Resistance Army
-[X] Friendly Rivalry: 9th Viet Airmobile
-[X] Dislike: 1st The Nord-Am First Lancers
 
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