Character Sheet
][ Inquisitor Joanyn Praxis ][
Imperial Inquisitor, Ordo Hereticus

Attributes
Physical Attributes
Strength - 1
Agility - 2
Melee - 1
Endurance: 4

Mental Attributes
Intelligence - 3
Tactics - 2
Nerve - 1
Fortitude: 6

Social Attributes
Charm - 4
Presence - 3
Contacts - 3
Resolve: 10

Faith Attributes
Belief - 2
Scripture - 0
Fire - 1
Conviction: 3
(3) - The Imperium should be an alliance of solidarity for the weak, not an alliance of strength for the strong.
(2) - People are more than problems, weaknesses, corruption vectors to eradicate. Their feelings and dreams matter.
(1) - A Shot Fired is a Shot Wasted

<1> - Victory makes me feel alive.
Strength is raw physical conditioning. Lifting stuff, swimming, running a long time, punching hard. It's added to many melee attack damage as well.

Agility is swiftness, reaction speed, and immediate awareness. It's used for dodging things, jumping, ducking, outrunning folks, and other twitchy reactions.

Melee is the general skill of up close combat with knives, swords, fists (power or otherwise), chainsaws, whatever else.

Intelligence is raw intellectual power, knowledge, and drive to learn and study stuff. It is also used for military logistics.

Tactics is your knowledge of battle tactics, from the strategy of leading armies to simply knowing when it is safe to rush across a hallway in a gunfight.

Nerve is the stat both for shooting firearms and for keeping your cool. Nerve checks are common in combat to prevent from panicking or fight through pain.

Charm is the social stat used for flattery, smoothtalking, lying, seduction, verbal sparring, deflection, and navigating high culture.

Presence is the social stat used for reasoning, explaining, teaching, intimidating, impressing, or public address.

Contacts is rolled to know people you need to know, and to have a good reputation with them.

Belief is your actual faith in... whatever you have faith in. The Emperor, hopefully. It is used to resist temptation and corruption.

Scripture is your knowledge of the intellectual side of your religious faith. If you can quote from the holy books and theologians. It's intelligence for matters of faith.

Fire is your ability to project your faith out and convince others of it. Want to convert somebody or whip a crowd into a fanatical fury? This stat.
Weapon: Laspistol
Weapon: Hellpistol
Trade: Manager
Trade: Spy
Trade: Political Operator
Talent: Verbal Sparring
Talent: Seduction
Talent: Dishonesty
Talent: Intimidation
Talent: Exfiltration
Talent: Logistics
Talent: Propaganda
Talent: Indirect Persuasion
People: Dahlia
People: The Corrupted
People: High Imperial Politicians
Knowledge: Imperial Political Theory
Social Loadout
1 Compact Laspistol, 1 Laspistol Reload, Flash-Safe Glasses, 6 Concealed monoknives, 1 Show Knife, 1 Belt Buckle Gun, 1 Plastex Bodyglove/Flakweave Suit, Displacer Field

Combat Options
+1 Hellpistol, +1 Transonic Machete

Compact Laspistol
Small Handgun
Attack Dice: 1/d10 -or- 2/d10-1
Aim Bonus: +1
Damage Bonus: +2
Armour Reduction: 0
Magazine Size: 4
Special
Laser: Does not cause bleeding.
Blinding: If operated without flash protection, witnessing the impact of a las-weapon will blind for 3 rounds.

Concealed Monoknife
Small Knife
Attack Dice : 1/d10
Damage Bonus : Agility + 1
Armour Penetration : 2
Parry Bonus : -1
Disarm Bonus : +0

Show Knife
Medium Knife
Attack Dice : 1/d10+1
Damage Bonus : Agility + 1
Armour Penetration : 0
Parry Bonus : +0
Disarm Bonus : +0

Buckle Gun
Tiny Handgun
Attack Dice: 2/d10-2
Aim Bonus: +0
Damage Bonus: -2
Armour Reduction: 0
Magazine Size: 1
Special
Hidden: Will always escape searches.

Plastex Bodyglove/Flakweave Suit
Clothing
Armour Value : 3
Coverage : All but Head and Eyes
Resistances : Impact, Blunt

Displacer Field
Energy Screen
When hit with an attack, roll 1d10.
1: Displaced into worse danger.
2: Displacer field fails. Take the hit.
3-6: Displaced hard. Take 1 Sore from bumping into something.
7-9: Displaced. Attack avoided.
10: Nothing personal, kid.

Hellpistol (Voss Pattern)
Medium Handgun/Carbine
Attack Dice: 1/d10 -or- 2/d10-1 (One-Handed)
Aim Bonus: +1
Damage Bonus: +3
Armour Reduction: 2
Magazine Size: 12
Special
Laser: Does not cause bleeding.
Blinding: If operated without flash protection, witnessing the impact of a las-weapon will blind for 3 rounds.
Convertible: When converted to Carbine mode, gain +1 to Attack and Aim Bonus.

Transonic Machete
Medium Knife
Attack Dice : 1/d10+2
Damage Bonus : Strength + 3
Armour Penetration : 1 + Half of enemy Armour (Round Down)
Parry Bonus : +0
Disarm Bonus : +3
Special
Sickening Vibrations: Enemies with 3 meters of an active blade count as being at -1 to all stats.
Sister Charitina
A member of the Order Famulous who found her faith again thanks to the Inquisitor. Praxis' closest confidant, dearest friend, and irritating ex-girlfriend.
Attributes of Note: Nerve 3, Contacts 4, Charm 3, Scripture 2, Fire 2
Skills of Note: Career - Order Famulous, Weapon - Bolt Carbine, People - Inquisitor Praxis
Equipment: Half-Plate Power Armour, Bolt Carbine, Burning Blade
Known Values: (3) The nobility is a blight on the Imperium, (2) I trust the Inquisitor's vision for the future, (1) Galaxy grim and dark, tiddy soft and warm.

Dahlia Hussian
A 17 year old unsanctioned psyker, rescued by Praxis from the witch's pyre she volunteered for at age 12. Loves the Emperor, and hates herself for being unworthy and twisted.
Attributes of Note: Power 1, Control 2, Sight 2, Faith 5, Strength -1, Nerve 0
Skills of Note: Talent - Self Discipline, Talent - Self-Hatred
Equipment: Web Derringer
Known Values: [3] I am here because I was given a chance. I should extend the same chance to others, [2] The Emperor is all things, [1] I can atone for my existence by aiding the Inquisitor

Marvel Ann Alemanga-Zero
A Magos of the biology wing of the Adeptus Mechanicus, Marvel Ann is an exuberant, odd, and enthusiastic cyborg lady who is an expert in medicine and bionics. She's Joanyn's current sweetheart, and she autotunes her voice.
Attributes of Note: Intelligence 4, Charm 3, Strength 4
Skills of Note: Career - Cyberdoc, Talent - Surgery, Talent - Singing
Known Values: [2] Adventure is to be seized with both hands (and as many mechandrites as possible)

Fraser Bookter
A positively ancient scribe who served Praxis' teacher, Bookter has seen all manner of things. Despite that, he keeps good humour.
Attributes of Note: Intelligence 4, Scripture 2, Contacts 2, Strength -2
Skills of Note: Career - Archivist, Knowledge - Imperial History
Known Values: ???

Korey Kilimnik
Once a Lightning fighter pilot for the Navy, until he was caught fucking an admiral's son. Kilimnik professionally doesn't care unless it has jet engines.
Attributes of Note: Nerve 5, Agility 3
Skills of Note: Career - Fighter Pilot, Talent - Piloting, Talent - Causing Trouble
Known Values: [2] By death or rejuvenation, age will never slow my reflexes
Penalties

≡][≡​
Sore​
Strain​
Stress​
Stain​
≡][≡​
◹☠◸​
0/4​
0/6​
0/10​
0/3​
◹☠◸​
◹⛉◸​
3 XP​
XP3​
33 XP​
9 XP​
◹⛉◸​
CURRENT RP
6

RULES SUMMARY
ROLZ ROOM
 
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what kind of Awful 40k Shit are they up to in this here court?
Hm... can't go too close to real events, can't be stuff we've already seen in fluff and novels, can't be just outright heresy. How about something that's not sexual, not hedonistic, but really plays on the medieval themes of decadent rulers and what you mentioned about normal people sitting in seats held by greater and crazier people?

The Governor is hosting a play about the final battle aboard the Vengeful Spirit, but decides to flex their money and ego by making it 'real': He's playing the part of the Emperor, and his family the other loyalist Astartes, Primarchs, and Custodes. Horus and the nameless bodyguards are all "Criminals" they paid to die on stage, and they're all wearing gaudy as hell power armor and fighting with power swords.

The acting is horrible, the deaths of the convicts incredibly bloody, and the budget of the production would almost buy an entire Navy Destroyer.
 
[ ] what's up with the governors printer?

if a remember correctly, this was one of the printers that terrorist cell used for its propaganda, also.

[ ] an enslaved palace serf being taken to the 'basement' by guards after being creeped out by a visiting priests Cherubim

Edit: added more grimdark
 
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Also, we're going into a Governor's palace on a paradise world, so snippet votes: what kind of Awful 40k Shit are they up to in this here court?
What immediately comes to mind is sheer excessive gluttony.
Foodstuff without any merit beyond rarity and cost to produce, like eating tiger meat fed exclusively on prime beef, which was in turn fed only fruit and wine.
Cybernetic modifications so what they eat is simply disposed of once swallowed, so they don't have to stop because they're full, and didn't need the food in any case, nutrition is sourced mechanically via nutrient feed.
Have a dedicated human laborer for the most trivial of chores, deliberately rejecting any kind of mechanical aid if the job could be done by an aesthetically pleasing human as a show of power.

Not sure how far into decadent excess before it becomes a poorly disguised Slaanesh cult though.
 
Personal read on noble extravagance is that...its a peacock tail. Its wasteful, it doesn't even feel that good, but for that reason it demonstrates that you are wealthy and important enough to waste resources like that and not have to care.

Which is all well and good, except every generation will recalibrate their baseline expectations, and need to be more wasteful and extravagant for the same amount of prestige. And then along comes a deviant who feels that maybe the point lies in someone suffering for it, rather than just being horribly wasteful.
 
[] The Governor has dancers performing through a massive flame. They get healed with a copious (and wasteful) amount of Brimselda.
 
Just caught up on this quest, and I love it. Also, Magos Marvel Ann Alemagna-Zero is best magos. She's way too good to just let her become another ex. We have got to try to keep this (cyber-)girlfriend.

Maybe we can get her to transfer to our team? We don't appear to have a tech or biology expert.

Also, if you're still taking suggestions for the court's "Awful 40k Shit", let's go with an even more excessively elaborate version of Louis XIV's court of Versailles. It keeps all the nobles tied up with pointless rituals so they (ideally) can't try to overthrow the governor.

Like, it takes thirty high-ranking nobles a full hour to perform the ritual of "stirring the governor's morning coffee" (and the governor doesn't even like coffee, but they have to drink it because 'ceremony').

[ ] The court has a horrifically complicated etiquette system purposefully designed to be hard to learn, harder to follow, and to waste as much time for as many people possible.
 
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So, a few questions for perusal by @open_sketch . Still thinking about it, but nobody else is making questions.

[] What is something we could definitely blackmail you with?

(Obviously you wouldn't ask that to their face, but it's something you could in theory learn by talking to someone, and then other nobles, to uncover some choice scandal or corruption.)

[] What are the factions among the nobles? Are their notable divisions?

[] Explain that Print Shop, if you would?

[] What are your plans for dealing with the Company and the Rebels?

(No doubt they're flawed and we don't want them stumbling ass-first into a careful situation with stupid noble plans.)

Just some ideas, hope it inspires others, and the QM can tell us if the questions are beyond the scope of this visit.
 
[X] What is something we could definitely blackmail you with?
[X] Explain that Print Shop, if you would?
 
[X] Explain that Print Shop, if you would?

[X] What are the factions among the nobles? Are their notable divisions?
 
[X] What is something we could definitely blackmail you with?
[X] Explain that Print Shop, if you would?
 
3-5: The Splendor and the Terror
You finally decided it was time to head to the Palace and see who was in charge of this disaster. You also decided to do so by pulling out all the stops for appearance: subtlety was out the window, so you wanted to put on a show she'd respect. You had the arbitrators accompany you as an honour guard (translation: law enforcement is already on my side), and you had the High General of the PDF announce you were coming (translation: your army will not protect you). You broke out your most formal of wears, an enormous cloak you'd inherited from your predecessor (who had been ten inch inches taller and twice as wide at the shoulder after a life of gene-treatments), bedecked in trophies, medals, braided cord, and a real human skull on a chain. You had it slung over one shoulder so it didn't cover all of you, and you had his old cane, eagle-head topped, which was nice because even with mechanical assistance trying to walk in heels with almost eighty pounds of oversized cloak on was not fun.

The effect it had on the assembled court was pretty marvelous, though, as the doors were thrown open and you clack clack clacked out across the marble floor. Charitina in her half-plate and Bookter in his best formalwear right behind you, flanked by two dozen arbitrators in gleaming carapace, assembled courtiers cringed and dropped their gaze as you swept your eyes across the assembled room. It wasn't enough to be vested with nearly unlimited power over these people, you had to look the part.

(Dahlia was waiting in the car. She had a movie on a data-slate, lunch in the glovebox, and a comm-bead in case you needed her.)

They'd broken out all their finery too, trying to impress with their wealth, and... well, there was a point when the display of conspicuous wealth became absolutely hedonism, and they'd found that point and just kept going. This was a common failure condition on more out of the way planets: nobility on more frequently traveled worlds learned the value of a certain austerity, opting for the awe of grand edifice instead of the opulence of wasted wealth. They also usually knew a level of restraint, because they had to deal more frequently with people who outranked them and could call them out on their bullshit. There was no such restraint here.

There was enough gold, silver, and platinum in here to plate a destroyer, with the Governor sitting on a throne that sat inside the mouth of a giant skull dominating one side of the room. There was a feast being eaten here consisting of frankly ridiculous quantities of food that simply could not have been local, with the central serving table dominated by the roasted carcass of a marine animal that was at least twenty meters long. Even with the several hundred people in this hall, you suspected the majority of it would go to waste. The walls were lined with servants, locals, most of them young and dressed insufficiently and yet elaborately, walking stiffly, and you couldn't help but notice the metallic collars, subtler versions of the same device worn by penal legionnaires. One side of the room was dominated by a massive stage, angled so everyone could see it, and you suspected the floors were lined with grav-plating so the actors could adhere. The play appeared to be something about a saint of some kind, but as you passed in full view the protagonist (you suspected a relation to the governor) plunged a sword through the chest of an 'unbeliever'. The crowd applauded politely.

You were reminded of the last time you were in a place like this, about a decade ago, when Charitina had made a sarcastic remark about how utterly bizarre it was that planetary nobility kept becoming corrupted by the Enemy. In that instance, you'd had the utter satisfaction of locking the rulers inside their gilded palace and having it burnt down, but by that point they'd begun openly performing rituals for the dark gods and doing so was just burning out an infection. The realistic possibility here was that there was no overt influence from the warp here yet, just the indulgence of human beings whose money and power made them untouchable.

You knew that wasn't actually, materially worse, but it felt worse.

The governor, Eloise Miranda Heinricus Chandyll, stood up to welcome you, her movement exposing the depth of layers in her flowing robes. She had the same agelessness you did, though there was an uncanny aspect that indicated she was spacing out her treatments due to cost and making up the difference in surgery. The Orders Hospitaller had made a good racket out of inflating the cost for civilian clients: Tanks with rocket-launching organs didn't pay for themselves.

"Lady Inquisitor, it's lovely to see you. Please, sit, make yourself at home." she said, descending the stairs from her throne slowly and gesturing to the decadence all around her. An invitation to take part.

You waited until she'd reached you to take a seat, clearly indicating that she should do the same. The two of you were seated at a table that was suddenly carried in by a team of servants, chairs manifesting as you sat. You tried your best to to not linger on the gold and precious stone on everything, you wanted to look incorruptible, all business. You had to ignore the things happening around you and focus.

Another wave of applause swept the room.

"Governor, it is good to see you doing so well, though it is a shame your world is in such a dire state." you began. Strategically chosen words, indicating that such excess was inappropriate with situation outside. Strategically chosen language too, the impersonal and distant formality in the complex, stiff language of High Gothic.

"I imagine your assessment will be shortly revised with the swiftness of your efforts." the Governor responded smoothly, her pronunciation and grammar perfect. "It is lovely you've decided to grace us with your presence. What can I do for you?"

Deference, even through metaphorically clenched teeth, was a good sigh.

You began to probe her about the policies and plans she had for the conflict, as well as to get a sense of how dire she found it. Unsurprisingly, the answer of 'not many' and 'not very'. Production shortfalls were not enough to affect the tithe or particularly cut into her wealth, the PDF was paid for by and mostly staffed with locals who were seen somewhere between expendable and subhuman, and the only really regrettable parts were that some of the offworld officers, usually sent by their family to gain military experience before being attached to some General Staff in the Imperial Guard, had died in the process. You also learned a bit about the Governor herself, namely that she'd been in charge for thirty years, and was thinking of giving it another ten before passing the job to a niece and heading back to her homeworld, a Hive World at the edge of the sector which bore her family name. Being a socialite there was evidently more prestigious and profitable than being the governor here, which wasn't surprising, as the two billion-strong population of this world could fit handily into a sprawling hive city with ample room to spare.

You also learned a great deal about her vices, as she attempted to softly bribe you with them. The usual, drink and drugs and spectacle and sex, nothing terribly out of the ordinary or particularly damning, and certainly nothing you could particularly stop, even as it made your skin crawl. The servers, the staff, the escorts, they were slaves, and while the Imperium technically outlawed outright slavery, the Emperor celebrated as a liberator of those in bondage, indentured servitude and forced labour of prisoners was seen as just, and both debt and punishment could be generational. You wanted to do something, but the farther outside of Imperial norms and laws you operated, the more difficult it would be, the more people you'd piss off. Right now, you needed this horrid woman on your side, and that meant politely turning down her offers while joking politely about them, treating them as normal.

It made your insides churn. You hated it. You hated pretending any of this was okay. You hated the thought that millions of people lived and prayed and died for the systems that enabled this woman and her family and her flunkies to sit in this golden palace and feast. You hated that empathetic, reasonable, gentle people all around you turned a blind eye, or parroted the justifications. It is terrible, but the galaxy is so much worse. There is no room for change, because it will expose weakness and we will be destroyed. These things are the result of hard decisions made by great men and who are we to question them.

You hated that you were doing it yourself, right now. You needed the government to stay together until the insurgencies were dealt with, so you had to tolerate this just a while longer, and every second of it weighed on you.

You lead the conversation toward the print shops, avoiding the current thrust of your investigation, and mentioned the one in the palace itself. You clearly hit on something of a nerve, just visible in her near-frozen expressions.

"That seems like an unusual avenue of investigation, Lady Inquisitor." she said, "I'm not entirely sure how it's relevant."

"Well, Governor, the workers I've spoken to have been incredibly candid, you understand, and have told me some very interesting things." you responded vaguely. The slightest twitch of her eyebrow.

"Well, I wouldn't put too much stock in the local rabble." she responded dismissively. "They hardly understand the workings of the office."

Oooh, there was a denial that told a story.

"I think many of them understand more than you think, and in any case, I understand quite well, and I've been considering what I'm going to do about it." you said, smiling just slightly.

"I... well, you must understand, their predecessors handled classified information. They simply couldn't be trusted with it, it was too dangerous." she said.

"Naturally." you responded, "I know too well that burden, though fortunately it is not always necessary. There are ways to ensure silence, you see."

Implication: whatever the fuck it is you're worried about, I know, and I can expose you. Time to make yourself useful to me.

"... quite." She indicated with a hand, and you felt a shift in the air, a momentary hum, and the room grew quiet. A stummer, an omnidirectional noise canceler, had just activated to add an extra layer of privacy to the conversation. "It was a minor oversight, and it has been corrected. I was acting in accordance with my responsibilities!"

"I think that is more of a matter of perspective than you might care for." you responded smoothly. By the Throne you were curious now. "But perhaps you should tell me your side of the story, fully, honestly, and we can come to an understanding."

She fidgeted nervously.

"You understand, I was fully under the impression-"

"No. Start from the beginning, and talk, or I give the signal and everyone on the planet knows." you said.

"... Five years ago, I was approached by a man who claimed to be a servant of an Inquisitor of the Ordos Xeno. One Stanislaus Tempel, a half-local, I thought little of it. He told me that the brimsilda this world grows was an alien construct, that the entire industry was corrupt and treasonous, and that the planet would need to burn. He said I needed to destroy the stocks and plantations immediately, to spread word among the people to ensure its extinction."

You stayed silence, just staring, compelling her to continue speaking.

"I... I sent him away. Of course it's alien, but so is a grox. It's useful to the Imperium." And to her pocketbook, of course. "The Ministorium works in mysterious ways that are not for us to question. I presumed the man must be some form of charlatan, perhaps an anarchist, agent of the Enemy, or even sent from a rival noble house. And even if he was legitimate, he had no authority to demand such things outright. The last communication I had with him was that he should send for his boss, because I wasn't listening to him. Then he ran. I took it as a sign of guilt, but..."

She sighed, drawn out, like she was worried it would be the last breath she ever took.

"I was worried he would spread agitation, perhaps tell the locals and they'd do something stupid. I suppose he did. And again, I was certain he was a liar. But... it is hard not to consider the alternative when the problem is of such magnitude. So I had the posters printed. I nearly distributed them, I did. But then I realized that it was hasty. If I spread those posters, if they did wipe out the plant... even if he was telling the truth, the Ministorium would probably come and deal with me before the Inquisition did. I suppose I was wrong about that."

"I see." You got from context what was meant. The posters in question must have been orders, decrees, some form of raising awareness among the people regarding the alien threat. She'd had them printed, and then had them destroyed

"I... I apologize, Lady Inquisitor, I truly do. But ordering his death seemed the safest option for the Imperium, and of course I had to prevent the print workers from spreading this obviously false information. I deeply regret it, and I am willing to face the consequences. My death will be nothing to preserve the integrity of the Imperium, and I only wish I had possessed the foresight to avoid it."

That threw you for a loop. You were not expecting... repentance. Acceptance. Loyalty. You'd entered this conversation expecting her to only look out for herself, but... of course not. She might have been higher in this twisted system, but she was a part of it too. She had internalized its messages just the same. Even... all this, the grand and horrifying splendor, it was just a cog in a terrible machine, one that fit exactly in the place made for it. All this around her was normal, but what she'd described was a mistake in her eyes, and she knew full well what that meant. Hell, she seemed to believe that her death would actually be righteous in this circumstance.

But one thing was throwing you off. Dahlia had been terrified of the paper that had come from the office, the echoes it held nauseating to her. Mere posters ordering the destruction of a plant weren't nearly so dire. It implied heresy, but... the reaction of the Governor was not one of a heretic. There was a piece missing.

"Thank you for your honestly, it will serve you well. As an aside, I have a small question, just to lay to rest another matter. Who has access to the Palace printers?"

"It is used by several government departments, yes. It also prints internal memos, and it is often used by members of my court to print invitations to parties and such like that. Several members of the court pay handsomely for confidential and private use the machines, they even send their own servants to operate them, hide their gossip or whatever. I personally stay away from such things, there's a dignity to the office that will be undermined by attending an event I am not hosting. Seeing as assassinating me would be unlawful and bring the full wrath of my family down on the whole court, I never considered it something to worry about."

Oh. Well that was easy, there was a cult somewhere in here. Because of course there was.

---

Please vote by plan.
The Governor
[ ] Thank her for her time and leave. It is likely she will take this as a sign of her guilt, and it is likely she will take her own life.​
[ ] Inform her that you need her alive, for now, but leave her hanging. Her performance as leader will likely suffer given her perception of a terminal trajectory.​
[ ] Inform her that she actually didn't do anything wrong (in that instance) and try to build this into something more like real trust and cooperation, as distasteful as that might be.​
[ ] Leverage the blankmail immediately. (Write In what you need from her. A check may be required.)​
[ ] Write In​
The Cult
[ ] You do not have time for this. Tell the Governor about it and get her to deal with it, or you'll hold her responsible.​
[ ] Tell Charitina to take care of the cult. It'll occupy her for a while, but you trust she'll have them dealt with, and you can move on.​
[ ] Urgh fine. Delay here a while and deal with the cult. Maybe we can wrap this up tonight.​
[ ] Write In​
Tomorrow's Plans
[ ] Work, as usual. Time's wasting.​
[ ] We may need to take some time to regroup. (Clear penalties and advance)​
 
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. . . I think a chaos cult might warrant a bit of a stay, what with the whole chaos cult being a chaos cult thing. It's probably gonna require a shit ton of bureaucracy.

I would burn a thousand chaotic heretics for an Adeptus Astartes Ultra about now.
 
Here's a proposal:
[] Plan #1, too tired to think of anything original

[] Inform her that she actually didn't do anything wrong (in that instance) and try to build this into something more like real trust and cooperation, as distasteful as that might be.

[] Urgh fine. Delay here a while and deal with the cult. Maybe we can wrap this up tonight.

[] We may need to take some time to regroup. (Clear penalties and advance)
 
It's the joking left-wing version of "redpilling" which is a bunch of right-wing conversion tactics designed to make people into Alt-Righters. So Breadpilling (like the Conquest of Bread, or Breadtube (Left Youtube)) would be talking someone around to more Praxis beliefs. :V

[insert frustrated rant here about how The Matrix was a science-fiction metaphor for the methods a society develops to control dissent which also ensure its' own long-term downfall written by two left-leaning trans women and fuck Mencius Moldbug for stealing that incredibly useful term]
 
[] Plan #1, too tired to think of anything original

This seems good to me, at least in the absence of a stellar write-in of some sort.
 
[?] Jolly Cooperation - sort of.

"You are correct when you described it... what's that charming phrase? It's alien, but so is a grox. It's useful to the Imperium. Your mistake was not to apply to the Inquisition yourself to secure confirmation on way or another. At the least you could have consulted the Mechanicus rather than stewing in your own ignorance and fear. You are supposed to be better than your ignorant, illiterate, printing staff, are you not?

Your mistakes are not small, but your honesty does you some credit. This situation is not unretrievable. I have already begun the work that you should have, getting the proper records from the Mechanicus, so that the plant may be used for the good of the Imperium under their seal of approval, at least. If you wish to continue to serve the Imperium, you must not repeat your previous mistake of vacillating inaction."

-[?] (get the governor to give you authority or resources to) Do something about the printing thing?

i'm not great at plans either
 
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