WARHAMMER 40,000: ROGUE TRADER: FALLEN SUNS (40k roleplaying on the farthest frontiers)
- Thread starter DragonCobolt
- Start date
Man that letter Junie got must have taken weeks to transcribe.
- Location
- USA
IIRC, when the three left Purgatorio for Damaris, Tine wrote June and baby Zephyr letters either every week or maybe even every other day. I'm not entirely sure how that's supposed to even work.
Fayhem
Definitely not an escaped SCP
- Location
- At large
- Pronouns
- He/Him
IIRC, canon usually has it that it's not the transcription that takes time, it's the relaying from astropathic station to astropathic station. So it may have taken a bit to reach us (though probably not full weeks?), but actually copying it out once it was here shouldn't have taken a crazy amount of time or anything.
The reason why it's not great for diplomacy - if I'm interpreting DC right - has more to do with the fact that diplomacy tends to inherently involve some back-and-forth even when both sides are mostly in agreement, and when every single thing you want to say has got to get passed through multiple relays in both directions it tends to put a stall on things. Since we don't have time for that in this case, doing it by astropathic message is like trying to do diplomacy by saying one thing and then leaving the room and hoping it worked. So it makes sense an actual envoy could probably have significantly better odds of getting something.
Okay, cool. I'm guessing this should be a vote or something tho? Since it'll affect our combat strength one way or the other.
[X] Detach the Acheron and the Pax Imperialis to carry envoys to Q'Sol and the Navy seeking support from them. If one of them succeeds faster than expected and it's not way out of their way, they can try one of the bigger Rogue Traders before heading to meet up with you again.
Is that a valid formulation, DC? I'm guessing the Navy at least is away from the Rogue Traders so that envoy might not have a shot, but I don't really have a strong sense of where Q'Sol is relative to Materium space so I was hoping it might potentially be relatively close to some of them.
[X] Detach the Acheron and the Pax Imperialis to carry envoys to Q'Sol and the Navy seeking support from them. If one of them succeeds faster than expected and it's not way out of their way, they can try one of the bigger Rogue Traders before heading to meet up with you again.
[X] Detach the Acheron and the Pax Imperialis to carry envoys to Q'Sol and the Navy seeking support from them. If one of them succeeds faster than expected and it's not way out of their way, they can try one of the bigger Rogue Traders before heading to meet up with you again.
This makes sense to me.
This makes sense to me.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Look what you MADE ME DO
CHAPTER THREE: The Soul Shrine (1.4)
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Em's lips quirked.
"Then we shall not face him..." he said, quietly. "...at the Maw."
"Captains, at ease," Em said. "You will both be traveling in company for the first leg of your journey - our Navigator has done the augeries and believes the finest route for you two to take is from here, round the God Emperor's Scourge to Damaris. There, you can revictual, then set out with the emyprial winds northward past the Cauldron and to Footfall."
He took the first letter and handed it to Caravel. "From there...you are to take the Acheron into the Screaming Vortex, to a world that has been imprinted in your cogito circuitry - a world called Q'Sall. You are to then deliver this letter to their admiarlty and explain to them the nature of Karrad Vall's forces."
"As you say, sir," Caravel said, while Halgastrem frowned.
"In...the Screaming Vortex, sir?" she asked.
"Fear not - the world is...protected, after a fashion, by a pocket of normality," Em said - a bit of a white lie, but the last thing he needed was any division among his command staff. "And more over, you won't be heading for Q'Sall. I need you, Helgastrem, to make from Footfall to Port Wander. I have heard word from my seneshall that one Captain Sylvia Locke will be there for the next two years for a refit of her ship. She should provide an in to the admiralty, where you shall deliver this letter and explain the situation to them."
Helgastrem inclined her head. "You can rely upon me, sir."
"And me," Caravel said.
"Good luck and godspeed," Em said, quietly...and knew, in his gut, that there was a good chance he might not see either of these brave officers again. That he might be sending their ships to their dooms - to be crushed in the warp, or slain by the very allies they sought to find purchase with...albeit, with Helgastrem, that was less of a worry.
But only a bit.
Thus, it was not really Em's fault that he barely noticed how withdrawn and quiet June was as the fleet sailed from the barren, unnamed system to the location of Craftworld Kaelor. He was too busy reading over reports, scribbling notes, piping messages through the fleet to fine tune and adjust every piece of his ships, in preparation for the day that might be months or even a year away. Normally, this would have fallen then to Tine, the most doting of the two parents. But she was busy with little Zeph, working with Callie and her sword Aria to begin to teach them the early stages of discipline and focus that it took to ward against daemons and unwanted use of psyker powers.
But there was an advantage to having so many parents...
Junie was working with her sword, driving herself harder and harder, sweat beating and dripping along her arms as she thrust and stabbed and cut and parried at the automated dummy, which swung its arms at her in brutal, curving arcs when Ryia stepped into the room - watching as June slashed the dummy's head clean off with a war-cry that split the room. The head crashed to the ground, but Junie lifted her hands and smashed the sword down again and again and again, crashing it against the dummy's chest, even as its arms fell limp at its side.
Ryia chuckled. "Junie...Junie, you got it!"
Junie left her power-sword stuck in the dummy, sparking and crackling. She turned, panting heavily, as Ryia slid her hands into her pockets, her brow furrowing. "...you okay?"
Junie panted, then sniffed. "Yeah. Fine. Why?"
"Cause you just broke a fifteen thousand throne practice dummy," Ryia said, clicking her teeth. "You've been unhappy and distant since we set sail from the unnamed system." She smirked. "It's not because you're already sick of having your parents back, is it?"
"No," Junie said, evasive.
"Come on, you can tell me," Ryia said.
"No, it's fine," Junie said, grabbing her sword and wrenching it free with a grunt. Ryia held up her hand, then grinned. "Drop it."
"No, I'm being nosy," she said. "If I beat you in a match, I can ask about it. You beat me, I drop it. How does that sound?"
Junie paused, then smirked. "Fine..." She said, narrowing her eyes. "What are the rules?" she asked.
"No rules, just no power-fields or cutting edges," Ryia said, casually. "First one on their back or out of the ring loses."
Junie grinned - seeing the opening...and she rushed forward before Ryia even reached for a weapon, turning to use her shoulder to slam into her mother. Ryia smirked for just a moment before Junie hit, then whipped aside with fluid grace, so that Junie tumbled head first off the mat and then hit the floor, skidding and catching up against the mirrored, rococo wall. She rolled onto her back, glaring at Ryia. Ryia spread her hands, then held her hand out to help Junie up. "To be fair," she said, dryly. "It's exactly what I'd have done - that's why I knew you'd do it."
"Jerk," Junie said, punching her shoulder.
"So, what's up?" Ryia asked.
Junie walked away. She swept her arms back and forth...and then swung back to face Ryia. "My grandfather's dead."
Silence, save for the dull humming of the Argent Scourge's vitae sustainers, and the click and rattle of the slowly dying dummy.
"Ah," Ryia said.
"Yeah." Junie sucked her lips in. "I don't freaking care about the Ma'ko Dynasty! I don't want to be a Ma'ko Trader! I...I..."
"Kid," Ryia said, her voice soft. "Your mother left you in our care so we could raise you, not-"
"I don't care!" Junie snapped, turning away, stalking off.
"Your mom-"
"She wasn't my mom!" Junie flared, spinning back, glaring at her. "If she was my mom, she wouldn't have left me!" Her eyes glimmered. "S-She'd still be here!"
"Junie, you know that's not fair..." Ryia said, walking towards her. She put her hand on Junie's shoulder.
Junie's lower lip trembled. She closed her eyes. "B-but she's not." She leaned in, burying her face against Ryia's side, her arms snaking around her, squeezing her. Hard. "You're my mom."
Ryia found it very hard to breathe. She coughed. Mumbled. "Well...y-you can have two-"
"Yeah, Tine too!"
Ryia sniffled and laughed at the same time. She slid her arms around Junie, hugging her, tightly. "Your dynasty's a big one. But the thing is, big dynasties need strong leaders. They need you - if...if you're not there, then there will be people grabbing for power. And when people grab for power, other people get hurt." She pushed Junie back, looking into her eyes - the other girl wasn't quite shooting up like a reed anymore, and the two were closet in height than Ryia liked to think, considering how tiny and young Junie had been a proverbial blink before. Ryia frowned. "That's what the Ma'ko family needs, Junie, not...just a figurehead. Someone to keep the bastards scared and the good people happy."
Junie bit her lip. "But...I'll miss you."
Ryia smiled. "It's a smaller galaxy than you think, Junie." She kissed her forehead. "Besides! We gotta live through this first."
Junie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like there's any chance of Vall putting Dad out." She smirked, slightly, before wiping her nose, sniffing, and blinking away a tear. Her voice was full of pride and sadness, and she tried to sound cheerful - a mixture that she couldn't quite carry off...despite her words. "Vall doesn't know what's coming for him."
And she turned and strutted off, leaving Ryia marveling after the pure resilience of youth.
Or maybe it was folly?
Badb Ra stood on the bridge as the vista-plates were opened, revealing a vast emptiness ahead of them. Stars, glittering, wheeling, endless...and no sign of a craftworld. Or any worlds. Tine's brow furrowed and she leaned over, whispering to Callie, who was standing beside the cogitator that had...say...Em's brow furrowed and he leaned over, whispering to Lieutenant Commander Ven. "Tell me, Drax, when did Able Voidman Noceda get rated for bridge duty?"
"Last week, sir," Ven murmured, quietly. "She applied for the lessons - damn near taught herself how to read machine scriptum without a word of Low Gothic, damnest thing I'd ever seen." He nodded. "Her bousun also marked her for a meritorious duty ribbon, shifting cargo in the void."
"Hm, yes, well..." Em said, chuckling quietly as he saw Callie whispering something to Able...no...Ensign Noceda, and the young human giggled, then whispered back to her.
"Badb Ra, where's the craftworld?" Tine asked.
"Wait for it," Badb Ra said, which provoked an excited 'ooh' from Tine...and then...
Then...
The space ahead of the Argent Scourge rippled, shimmered, then flowed like water, revealing kilometer upon shining kilometer of glittering bone white metal. Graceful curves swept to the heavens and shimmering, void-shield enshrouded walkways thronged with Eldar, heading too and for about their daily work while buildings and spires that rivaled Imperial hives emerged from the center of the immense, disk shaped starship. Surrounding her, near the curved spine-spars of her outer edge, were the Kaleor fleet. Looking them over, Em frowned. There were no more than six ships there, each the size of a heavy cruiser. He had expected twenty, thirty, more arrayed around this kind of Craftworld...but then he saw other signs of the decay of the Eldar: More then two quarters of the Craftworld, though still shining bright under the light of distant suns, were clearly empty. Eldar did not bustle. Life did not throng there.
"There she is..." Badb Ra murmured. "Just as we left her."
The Whisper darted forward, bearing Serradon while the alert sirens and klaxons wailed - for what felt like a million targeting augers were locked upon their ship at the same moment. Em hastily set the signal across the vox that every ship should stand down - but still felt a prickle of fear. Three quarters deserted or no, the Craftworld was still a deadly weapon.
Ten minutes of anxious waiting later, a message came - a single, short phrase.
"Come to the Council Chambers. You will have five minutes."
"Isha's tits, they're being exceptionally gracious," Badb Ra said, sounding honestly shocked.
Em pursed his lips.
"It is only in extremis that faith and valor are truly tested. Just such a test is upon us now. The Faceless Lord sails for the Maw, with every reaver in the Expanse gathered behind him and the weapon he has spent so long searching for as well. If he is not stopped now, he will take the Expanse itself, and all others who dwell within shall lose everything. And from there, I fear the forces he has gathered will enable him to claim the Calixus Sector itself next. You know my name, and if you know of me you know I would not speak of such things lightly." He lifted his hand, clenching it dramatically as he spoke. The Eldar showed no sign of what they thought. "House Scourge shall devote everything we have to stopping Vall, and we are assembling a coalition to fight alongside us. Join, and stand with us in glory as we smite the wicked to spare the innocent. Abstain, and for a hundred, no, a thousand years you and your descendants shall be left to look aside in shame when asked where you were when the Faceless Lord came to smother the light. I look forward to seeing you beside us."
Silence fell - and the Craftworld Eldar looked deep in consideration...but then...
One of them stood.
His hands went to his helmet, sliding it off his head, revealing that he was a shockingly beautiful man, even for the Eldar. He wore a simple robe, but with a complex triangular pattern on his chest, which flared out to a spoked half-starburst emerging from a green gemstone on his breast, a symbol that Em had seen before in some Eldar manuscripts - always important, but the meaning was enigmatic. The man spoke, his voice clear and musical, and Em worked hard to follow him as Tine and Ryia listened, trying to follow as best they could.
"You know me as Eldanesh, council. I am also Teyarch, Exarch of the Fire Dragons. I will enact the Rite of the Young King in the name of this quest - to see the end of Vall and the freedom of Lu'nasad."
Every single member of the Eldar council sat, stark still and trembling, and Em realized that...this...Rite of the Young King...
It was no mere simple diplomatic nicety. It was no simple gesture. In fact, as he looked at Eldanesh...or Teyarch, as he had said he had two names, Em noticed the tightening of the jaw, the clenching of his hands. Teyarch stood as if he was willing and ready to...die?
What was he offering here!?
---
What say you, Rogue Trader? Em has a feeling the wrong choice might be a hideously grave insult. Of course, he is also quite charming...
[ ] We accept you, Teyarch of the Fire Dragons, Young King in waiting.
[ ] We need only ships, not...this ritual. While we are honored, it need not be preformed on our behalf.
[ ] Please, we beg forgiveness...what...is it you are offering here?
"Then we shall not face him..." he said, quietly. "...at the Maw."
***
Captain Caravel and Captain Halgastrem stood to attention as Em entered into the room. Behind him walked two men in Scourge colors, both bearing heavy, laquered boxes, opened, with envelopes upon them. Captain Caravel, of the Acheron, was the perfect kind of captain for a lithe little ship like her in a Rogue Trader's service. He'd been in the service of Chartist Captains until recently, and proved himself in fighting undergunned transports against pirates for his entire career. He'd purchased his commission in the navy, then transferred his pennant to the Scourges when they had purchased his ship. Most importantly, he was young and he was creative...exactly what was needed for the mission he was going upon. Halgastrem was more staid and stolid, an older woman of dignified bearing and doughy expression, with a Valhallan cast to her features with a bright red accenting to her otherwise sandy hair.
"Captains, at ease," Em said. "You will both be traveling in company for the first leg of your journey - our Navigator has done the augeries and believes the finest route for you two to take is from here, round the God Emperor's Scourge to Damaris. There, you can revictual, then set out with the emyprial winds northward past the Cauldron and to Footfall."
He took the first letter and handed it to Caravel. "From there...you are to take the Acheron into the Screaming Vortex, to a world that has been imprinted in your cogito circuitry - a world called Q'Sall. You are to then deliver this letter to their admiarlty and explain to them the nature of Karrad Vall's forces."
"As you say, sir," Caravel said, while Halgastrem frowned.
"In...the Screaming Vortex, sir?" she asked.
"Fear not - the world is...protected, after a fashion, by a pocket of normality," Em said - a bit of a white lie, but the last thing he needed was any division among his command staff. "And more over, you won't be heading for Q'Sall. I need you, Helgastrem, to make from Footfall to Port Wander. I have heard word from my seneshall that one Captain Sylvia Locke will be there for the next two years for a refit of her ship. She should provide an in to the admiralty, where you shall deliver this letter and explain the situation to them."
Helgastrem inclined her head. "You can rely upon me, sir."
"And me," Caravel said.
"Good luck and godspeed," Em said, quietly...and knew, in his gut, that there was a good chance he might not see either of these brave officers again. That he might be sending their ships to their dooms - to be crushed in the warp, or slain by the very allies they sought to find purchase with...albeit, with Helgastrem, that was less of a worry.
But only a bit.
***
The movement of great fleets was a time that crushed out the quiet moments. That drowned and smothered the human, the personal, the connective tissue of family and friends. Even aboard the small ships that were splitting off to travel in pairs to Damaris and Footfall, the pressure of the moment mounted...and then stretched, glacially. The location of Karad Vall was not a known facet in space-time, but it could be sounded out in generalities by the Farseers, poking and prodding at fate ahead of them. That location, that slow creeping movement of Lu'nasad and the terrible fleets that flanked her, creeping towards the Maw and the Calixus Sector beyond, created a pressure upon every man, woman and...yes...even child aboard the fleet as they made sail for the redline and then dropped into the warp.
Thus, it was not really Em's fault that he barely noticed how withdrawn and quiet June was as the fleet sailed from the barren, unnamed system to the location of Craftworld Kaelor. He was too busy reading over reports, scribbling notes, piping messages through the fleet to fine tune and adjust every piece of his ships, in preparation for the day that might be months or even a year away. Normally, this would have fallen then to Tine, the most doting of the two parents. But she was busy with little Zeph, working with Callie and her sword Aria to begin to teach them the early stages of discipline and focus that it took to ward against daemons and unwanted use of psyker powers.
But there was an advantage to having so many parents...
Junie was working with her sword, driving herself harder and harder, sweat beating and dripping along her arms as she thrust and stabbed and cut and parried at the automated dummy, which swung its arms at her in brutal, curving arcs when Ryia stepped into the room - watching as June slashed the dummy's head clean off with a war-cry that split the room. The head crashed to the ground, but Junie lifted her hands and smashed the sword down again and again and again, crashing it against the dummy's chest, even as its arms fell limp at its side.
Ryia chuckled. "Junie...Junie, you got it!"
Junie left her power-sword stuck in the dummy, sparking and crackling. She turned, panting heavily, as Ryia slid her hands into her pockets, her brow furrowing. "...you okay?"
Junie panted, then sniffed. "Yeah. Fine. Why?"
"Cause you just broke a fifteen thousand throne practice dummy," Ryia said, clicking her teeth. "You've been unhappy and distant since we set sail from the unnamed system." She smirked. "It's not because you're already sick of having your parents back, is it?"
"No," Junie said, evasive.
"Come on, you can tell me," Ryia said.
"No, it's fine," Junie said, grabbing her sword and wrenching it free with a grunt. Ryia held up her hand, then grinned. "Drop it."
"No, I'm being nosy," she said. "If I beat you in a match, I can ask about it. You beat me, I drop it. How does that sound?"
Junie paused, then smirked. "Fine..." She said, narrowing her eyes. "What are the rules?" she asked.
"No rules, just no power-fields or cutting edges," Ryia said, casually. "First one on their back or out of the ring loses."
Junie grinned - seeing the opening...and she rushed forward before Ryia even reached for a weapon, turning to use her shoulder to slam into her mother. Ryia smirked for just a moment before Junie hit, then whipped aside with fluid grace, so that Junie tumbled head first off the mat and then hit the floor, skidding and catching up against the mirrored, rococo wall. She rolled onto her back, glaring at Ryia. Ryia spread her hands, then held her hand out to help Junie up. "To be fair," she said, dryly. "It's exactly what I'd have done - that's why I knew you'd do it."
"Jerk," Junie said, punching her shoulder.
"So, what's up?" Ryia asked.
Junie walked away. She swept her arms back and forth...and then swung back to face Ryia. "My grandfather's dead."
Silence, save for the dull humming of the Argent Scourge's vitae sustainers, and the click and rattle of the slowly dying dummy.
"Ah," Ryia said.
"Yeah." Junie sucked her lips in. "I don't freaking care about the Ma'ko Dynasty! I don't want to be a Ma'ko Trader! I...I..."
"Kid," Ryia said, her voice soft. "Your mother left you in our care so we could raise you, not-"
"I don't care!" Junie snapped, turning away, stalking off.
"Your mom-"
"She wasn't my mom!" Junie flared, spinning back, glaring at her. "If she was my mom, she wouldn't have left me!" Her eyes glimmered. "S-She'd still be here!"
"Junie, you know that's not fair..." Ryia said, walking towards her. She put her hand on Junie's shoulder.
Junie's lower lip trembled. She closed her eyes. "B-but she's not." She leaned in, burying her face against Ryia's side, her arms snaking around her, squeezing her. Hard. "You're my mom."
Ryia found it very hard to breathe. She coughed. Mumbled. "Well...y-you can have two-"
"Yeah, Tine too!"
Ryia sniffled and laughed at the same time. She slid her arms around Junie, hugging her, tightly. "Your dynasty's a big one. But the thing is, big dynasties need strong leaders. They need you - if...if you're not there, then there will be people grabbing for power. And when people grab for power, other people get hurt." She pushed Junie back, looking into her eyes - the other girl wasn't quite shooting up like a reed anymore, and the two were closet in height than Ryia liked to think, considering how tiny and young Junie had been a proverbial blink before. Ryia frowned. "That's what the Ma'ko family needs, Junie, not...just a figurehead. Someone to keep the bastards scared and the good people happy."
Junie bit her lip. "But...I'll miss you."
Ryia smiled. "It's a smaller galaxy than you think, Junie." She kissed her forehead. "Besides! We gotta live through this first."
Junie rolled her eyes. "Yeah, like there's any chance of Vall putting Dad out." She smirked, slightly, before wiping her nose, sniffing, and blinking away a tear. Her voice was full of pride and sadness, and she tried to sound cheerful - a mixture that she couldn't quite carry off...despite her words. "Vall doesn't know what's coming for him."
And she turned and strutted off, leaving Ryia marveling after the pure resilience of youth.
Or maybe it was folly?
***
The Scourge Fleet emerged from the warp on 127, on the 827th year of the 41st millennium. According to Callie, the Vall fleet had not yet reached Footfall. And according to their Astropaths, the Acheron and Pax Imperialis both not reached Damaris - leaving the world feeling as if everything was in the air. Dangling.
Badb Ra stood on the bridge as the vista-plates were opened, revealing a vast emptiness ahead of them. Stars, glittering, wheeling, endless...and no sign of a craftworld. Or any worlds. Tine's brow furrowed and she leaned over, whispering to Callie, who was standing beside the cogitator that had...say...Em's brow furrowed and he leaned over, whispering to Lieutenant Commander Ven. "Tell me, Drax, when did Able Voidman Noceda get rated for bridge duty?"
"Last week, sir," Ven murmured, quietly. "She applied for the lessons - damn near taught herself how to read machine scriptum without a word of Low Gothic, damnest thing I'd ever seen." He nodded. "Her bousun also marked her for a meritorious duty ribbon, shifting cargo in the void."
"Hm, yes, well..." Em said, chuckling quietly as he saw Callie whispering something to Able...no...Ensign Noceda, and the young human giggled, then whispered back to her.
"Badb Ra, where's the craftworld?" Tine asked.
"Wait for it," Badb Ra said, which provoked an excited 'ooh' from Tine...and then...
Then...
The space ahead of the Argent Scourge rippled, shimmered, then flowed like water, revealing kilometer upon shining kilometer of glittering bone white metal. Graceful curves swept to the heavens and shimmering, void-shield enshrouded walkways thronged with Eldar, heading too and for about their daily work while buildings and spires that rivaled Imperial hives emerged from the center of the immense, disk shaped starship. Surrounding her, near the curved spine-spars of her outer edge, were the Kaleor fleet. Looking them over, Em frowned. There were no more than six ships there, each the size of a heavy cruiser. He had expected twenty, thirty, more arrayed around this kind of Craftworld...but then he saw other signs of the decay of the Eldar: More then two quarters of the Craftworld, though still shining bright under the light of distant suns, were clearly empty. Eldar did not bustle. Life did not throng there.
"There she is..." Badb Ra murmured. "Just as we left her."
The Whisper darted forward, bearing Serradon while the alert sirens and klaxons wailed - for what felt like a million targeting augers were locked upon their ship at the same moment. Em hastily set the signal across the vox that every ship should stand down - but still felt a prickle of fear. Three quarters deserted or no, the Craftworld was still a deadly weapon.
Ten minutes of anxious waiting later, a message came - a single, short phrase.
"Come to the Council Chambers. You will have five minutes."
"Isha's tits, they're being exceptionally gracious," Badb Ra said, sounding honestly shocked.
Em pursed his lips.
***
The Eldar Council chambers were broad and circular, with pale white walls glittering with inset red gemstones. Men and women in thick Kaeldor robes sat at a curved table, mounted on a high plinth that was a head and shoulders higher than the small pit that Em, Tine and Ryia had been led to by faceless, armored warriors. There, Em stood and he spoke, his voice lilting and elegant - his throat tying itself into knots as he tried to get each of the lilting, beautiful words out without...utterly embarrassing himself.
"It is only in extremis that faith and valor are truly tested. Just such a test is upon us now. The Faceless Lord sails for the Maw, with every reaver in the Expanse gathered behind him and the weapon he has spent so long searching for as well. If he is not stopped now, he will take the Expanse itself, and all others who dwell within shall lose everything. And from there, I fear the forces he has gathered will enable him to claim the Calixus Sector itself next. You know my name, and if you know of me you know I would not speak of such things lightly." He lifted his hand, clenching it dramatically as he spoke. The Eldar showed no sign of what they thought. "House Scourge shall devote everything we have to stopping Vall, and we are assembling a coalition to fight alongside us. Join, and stand with us in glory as we smite the wicked to spare the innocent. Abstain, and for a hundred, no, a thousand years you and your descendants shall be left to look aside in shame when asked where you were when the Faceless Lord came to smother the light. I look forward to seeing you beside us."
Silence fell - and the Craftworld Eldar looked deep in consideration...but then...
One of them stood.
His hands went to his helmet, sliding it off his head, revealing that he was a shockingly beautiful man, even for the Eldar. He wore a simple robe, but with a complex triangular pattern on his chest, which flared out to a spoked half-starburst emerging from a green gemstone on his breast, a symbol that Em had seen before in some Eldar manuscripts - always important, but the meaning was enigmatic. The man spoke, his voice clear and musical, and Em worked hard to follow him as Tine and Ryia listened, trying to follow as best they could.
"You know me as Eldanesh, council. I am also Teyarch, Exarch of the Fire Dragons. I will enact the Rite of the Young King in the name of this quest - to see the end of Vall and the freedom of Lu'nasad."
Every single member of the Eldar council sat, stark still and trembling, and Em realized that...this...Rite of the Young King...
It was no mere simple diplomatic nicety. It was no simple gesture. In fact, as he looked at Eldanesh...or Teyarch, as he had said he had two names, Em noticed the tightening of the jaw, the clenching of his hands. Teyarch stood as if he was willing and ready to...die?
What was he offering here!?
---
What say you, Rogue Trader? Em has a feeling the wrong choice might be a hideously grave insult. Of course, he is also quite charming...
[ ] We accept you, Teyarch of the Fire Dragons, Young King in waiting.
[ ] We need only ships, not...this ritual. While we are honored, it need not be preformed on our behalf.
[ ] Please, we beg forgiveness...what...is it you are offering here?
I have a navigation sheet for all the fleet movements that I will share later.
Em got a 14 on his charm check!
Em makes a forbidden lore: xenos check at a -30! He gets a 96, lol! Tine and Ryia make similar rolls, but they don't HAVE Forbidden Lore: Xenos!
Em rolls scrutiny and gets a 20! 1 DOS!
Em got a 14 on his charm check!
Em makes a forbidden lore: xenos check at a -30! He gets a 96, lol! Tine and Ryia make similar rolls, but they don't HAVE Forbidden Lore: Xenos!
Em rolls scrutiny and gets a 20! 1 DOS!
- Location
- USA
[x] Please, we beg forgiveness...what...is it you are offering here?
Go mom Ryia!
[X] Please, we beg forgiveness...what...is it you are offering here?
EDIT:
or perhaps Tine could ask her lovely sword (assuming she has her).
[X] Please, we beg forgiveness...what...is it you are offering here?
EDIT:
^^This^^
or perhaps Tine could ask her lovely sword (assuming she has her).
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Xilentxium
Existential Crisis Management
- Location
- Temperate Regions
Oh shit. He's going for the Avatar play, so they're really taking this seriously.
[X] We accept you, Teyarch of the Fire Dragons, Young King in waiting.
[X] We accept you, Teyarch of the Fire Dragons, Young King in waiting.
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Sir_Travelsalot
Never wakes up tired.
- Location
- At Home
[X] We accept you, Teyarch of the Fire Dragons, Young King in waiting.
Though, I'm a bit dubious about how well an Avatar of Khaine will do in a space battle.
Though, I'm a bit dubious about how well an Avatar of Khaine will do in a space battle.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Imagine a hit and run that kills half the crew pop in 30 minutes
Sir_Travelsalot
Never wakes up tired.
- Location
- At Home
I mean, I guess if it can fit through the doors it'll do good work. My concern was that Avatars are kind of huge.
- Pronouns
- It/Its
[X] We accept you, Teyarch of the Fire Dragons, Young King in waiting.
- Pronouns
- He/Him
On the flagship yeah, but there's like, 30 other ships in the fleet?
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- He/Him
The operative word here is 'through.'
This better not end with Junie floating away on an escape pod, watching the fleet burn and swearing vengeance.
[X] We accept you, Teyarch of the Fire Dragons, Young King in waiting.
He's old enough to know what he's doing, and wouldn't be doing it if he felt it unnecessary.
Fayhem
Definitely not an escaped SCP
- Location
- At large
- Pronouns
- He/Him
hey
hey
love youuuuuuuu
Actually though, now that I look at that map, I'm hoping pretty fucking hard that Undred-Undred Teef sees the spiky boyz flying by and decides that looks like a proppa good fight. I don't think they'd win, but I'd expect they could soften them up for us. We... probably couldn't get anyone over there in time to try to deliberately kite them into Vall, though.
Oof, a more than half dead Craftworld. Still, we showed those two Hades heavy cruisers what even one Eldar heavy cruiser can do, so six is a long way from something to scoff at.
Yeah, this sounds about right lol.
Oh
WOW
Yeah, they're prepared to go hard on this.
The great thing about being an Avatar of Khaine is that you can make your own doors. And corridors. And airlocks. You might as well call him the Avatar of Dynamic Entry, really.
Hmm, what would be a good IC response here...
[X] We accept you, Teyarch of the Fire Dragons, Young King in waiting.
-[X] "I will confess that I do not grasp the full import of what you offer, but it is clear that it is momentous and comes as no small sacrifice. That is enough for my heart to grieve the loss, still more for the fact I can see your people have already lost much. But it is not for me to set the limits of what another may choose to sacrifice, and I cannot in honesty call the need less than dire. All I can say is that I will do my best to honor your commitment with my own. Vall will fall, or I will. This, I swear. And if it is within my power, I will likewise see Lu'Nusad returned to your people as well."
Right now doesn't seem like a good moment, but I'm hoping we can find a time to ask Babd Ra if he expects the Crow Spirits will be contributing too. IIRC they're mostly raiders so a stand-up fight probably isn't their forte, but if they could just help screen against fighters or ambush Vall's own converted merchant carriers or something that could help a lot.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
Sadly, Fayum, even if your write in had been adopted, the Eldar ritual would be to immediately usher the humans out.
Like...they don't really *want* to explain what's going on, because...
You know.
Eldar.
Fayhem
Definitely not an escaped SCP
- Location
- At large
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Oh. Yep, that makes sense lol.
Well, it seems like we've got the Eldar fully on board now. So I guess I can only cross my fingers for the Navy, Q'Sol, and whoever else we were able to get an astropathic message to. Maybe the Navy will be tempted by the rare opportunity to reclaim another battleship alongside the Scourges? 🤞
Sir_Travelsalot
Never wakes up tired.
- Location
- At Home
Well, that and Karad Vall winning would mean losing the Koronus Expanse, Port Wander, and potentially cost the Imperium the entire Calixis Sector. That seems pretty urgent to address.