Rogue trader 1

A lord's decree

“This is as simple as I could possibly make it,
For all who hear this glorious dirge,
Know you have been blessed.”

List pt.2

Grumscrum, Kinnie
POI: Pale Throng, Antivan IV
Yilla, Prudence, ‘Lady Mask’
POI: The Sevran Dominate, The Pollax Insurgence, The Frill Insurgence
Target Primarus
POI: Stricken form record
Granther, Laurien
POI: The Emergence, Project Dusk, The Fallen Sun, The Tyrant Star calamity
Crypt, Dominus, Carron Fivarius
POI: The Malfian Tragedy, The Frill Insurgence
Otriga, Lilith
POI: The Zeist Campaign, The Fall
Yagaw, Fabius
POI: The Calixian Disbarment, The Malfian Tragedy
Full-Bright, Lutica
POI: The Tyrant Star Calamity
Hawforth, Titania
POI: The Fallen Sun
Tassmaser, Mangella
POI: Project Dusk
L’Florae, Meaganne
POI: The Calixian Disbarment, The Fall, The Fallen Sun
Yagaw, Mejula
POI: The Malfian Tragedy, The Pollax Insurgence
Maximus, Millanus Deterius
POI: The Calixian disbarment
Starbane, Millardo
POI: Project Dusk, The Fall
Target Secundus
Nailbrainz, Mister
See Big Boss Craglaw
Target Primarus
Dagon, Olivia
POI: Records unclear, for best estimates see Inquisitor Valrez
Ulamar, Rebecca
POI: Project Dusk
Khalat Ortaga
POI: The Pale Throng, Project Dusk
‘Praecia’, Hawforth, Victoria, Dagon, Julia, Ulamar, Francesca
Large inconsistencies on possible progenitors
POI: Praecia’s Family, Project Dusk, The Pale Throng, The Fall, The Calixian Disbarment, Antivan IV, The Frill Insurgence
The Eldar Prince
Target Primarus
Cammus, Putchkin
POI: The Calixian Disbarment
Faraday, Lucius
POI: The Faraday Purge
POI: Rampant Corruption, File irrecoverable.
Target Primarus
Fairburn, Jerrack
POI: Fallen Sun, The Pale Throng
POI: Fallen Sun, The Pale Throng
Proppit, Sana
POI: Project Dusk, The Emergance, Incident 127542
Hifane, Selena
POI: Assume All in minor capacity
Denant, Selvala
POI: Project Dusk
Corruption on access of Senses? All Data Erased? Query Failed? Databank Purged?
Unllinhild, Gavony
The Traanch Massacre, The Grim Genocide, The Winterscale Anhililation
Apet, Sisass
POI: Project Dusk, Antivan IV
Fortune, Slaine
The Pollax Insurgence
POI: Assume all
Xen, Steffen
POI: The Pale Throng
Fuik, Ullara
POI: The Malfian Tragedy
DeStriv, Vivienne
POI: Assume all
Ying, Yue
POI: The Calixian disbarment, The fall, Antivan IV

“Data is inconsistent at best.”
“There is that man missing.”
“What should we do here?”
“Accept the successes and defeats.”
“The memetic hazards and traps show archenemy involvement.”
“I doubt that, This is something else.”
“What sir?”
“I do not know. We should endeavour to meet the true Thornhold Patriarch to have him disclose the relavent information. Until then stay secret, stay safe.”

The list

Murphy, ‘Burning Hands’:-
POI: Praecia’s family, The Tranth calamity, The Faraday purge.
Bettra, Bella:-
POI: The silasian dominate, The Pale Throng, The Derminus campaign, Antivan IV
The Ork is a high priority threat. See Ardamantua… Target Primarus
Tervat, Silas; Unrado, Kiluy; Verrat, Poinnet; Anchorage, Alliat; Berntrage, Walter, etc; Current designation Gangemell, Brotaster:-
POI: Assume all till proven otherwise.
Addendum: All knowledge is varied and potentially missing, mental instability confirmed.
Chester, ‘Marvellous’, Haithat, Suliaman
Possible fake;
POI: The Calixian disbarment, trial case #111-127,573,584,394, The Malfian tragedy
Bellot, Arthur:
POI: The Malfian Tragedy, The Calixian disbarment, The Pale Throng
Cra’ozahis, Dazavhar
See the Winterscale Realm report
Lightbringer, Franquias
The Calixian disbarment, The fall, Antivan IV
The Dragons of the Lathes Target Secundus
Lacal, Tevarian
POI: The Dusk incident, The Pale throng, The Halo star expedition, The Fall, The Fallen sun, The Tyrant star calamity.
Gunnt, Fydor
POI: Project Dusk, The Pale throng, The Malfian tragedy
Eyeclone, Gregor
POI: The Tyrant star calamity
Assume fake
Trassk, Bolivar
No knowledge recorded, Vannus temple collaboration assumed, Target Primarus
Domar Korrack Terruck Schmall Pherox Cordar Spenac Wvilheim, Valrez
POI: The Calixian disbarment, The pale throng, Antivan IV, The Fall, The Tyrant star calamity, The Faraday Purge
Starbane, Killian
POI: Project Dusk
Target Secundus

“This is all we managed upon.”
“We will have the rest soon.”
“Understood sir.”

The lines of battle

The faint hint of blood is what arose the Colonel. He was asleep at his desk after an 8 hour strategy meeting with a number of outsiders. His sergeant didn’t speak up, Kriegians. His head rose to see Captain Creel Poth making haste towards him. She seemed to have been watching like a vulturax watches a wounded grox. He ran a hand through his hair and placed his hat upon his ruffled hair and draped his long coat over him.
“Colonel, we have urgent matters to discuss. Sir are you quite ok?” She looked at him with concern. That worried him. She was usually a wall of properness and propriety.
“What am I dying or something?” The colonel said jokingly, he thought upon capitalising this moment of real human emotion to build a standing relationship with this distant woman.
“Are you?” she said meaning the words, “You are bleeding from your nose.”
“Throne!” He never considered it could be his blood. He started feeling it now he peered down to his stomach. A small blade was lodged in his stomach. His alarm was evident.
“Sir I shall fetch a magos.” she said turning on her heels and without missing a beat marching from the tent they had jury-rigged into a command centre.
“No!” He said, a little too forcefully, he knew the knife had not inflicted a wound but he certainly did not want to indicate to the rank and file their commander could so easily be accessed and eliminated. That would shatter the already wavering moral of his disparate forces. “Collect those who seek an audience, I shall deal with their concerns in person.” He then stumbled out, “In here I would like to retain my seat.”The captain turned, eyed him carefully, then nodded.
“Understood sir.” With that she was gone. Harven ripped the blade from his inside. Surprisingly it left no mark, no ruin or scar. That was worrying. There was no hole in his clothes, the cloth seemed intact. The blade had vanished when he turned back to it. Very worrying indeed. He had no time for delusions or mysteries. Now he had to lead his men as best he could.

The colonel had managed before the meeting began to instruct the long range mortar fir to fire upon a fragile lake structure to the East creating a natural barrier to the location. He had also assisted in the repulsion of a small entourage of the so called corpse warriors that churned from the castle upon the hill. He had seen that only sustained and dedicated las-fire would down there number, they were incredibly resilient if not ponderous. He had believed them to be easy picking when first arriving but they were evolving, always faster and stronger. They could tear a man limb from limb in an instant if they entered their personal space. Still he had only suffered minor casualties from actual combat. The land was the true enemy. Starvation and ice flows were constant and the wildlife was rather aggressive. Still he had tactical and political matters to attend currently. The meeting began when a number had arrived. Another tactical briefing. In attendance were himself, The captain by his side, the count, always sulking like he was expecting preferential treatment even these intense conditions, the masked woman who had supplied an amount of information that seemed to come from both mechanicus and ecclisiarchical sources, Suzimoto his childhood friend and commander of his mechanised division as pitiful as it was and troublingly the Inquisitor.

“I shall begin,” the Inquisitor announced allowing a moment for the room to hunker in for the long haul. The majority of the beginning was basic troop movements, supply distribution and other such logistical matters. 3 hours slogged by. The sound of ordinance resonated from outside. Recaf was produced by attendants every hour. The next 2 hours was spent reviewing the enemy lines, casualty rates and projections of enemy procedures. This was to be a long dragged out battle. There was unlikely to be a single battle to dictate the outcome. Harven managed disputes disagreements and clashes in personality quickly and completely. He could not allow chaos to break out. Following this was the report from Thais Minana. The Inquisitor’s pet psyker entered the tent. She spoke on dark times ahead prophecy and other such nonsense. In Harven’s mind psykers were mutants. Creatures too warped to be considered human any longer. He allowed her to speak but he disregarded what she said. The only conversation he talked in length on was the tactical operations of the dark elder as he was considered the expert on their raider tactics. The meeting finally fizzled out. All left apart from the Inquisitor. Seeing this Suzimoto stood at the tent flap till Harven waved her away.

“Inquisitor what is it you need of me.” He started with the open question so he could then explain away what he could not do. His resources were scarce and could not be spared.
“Not anything from the resources you have gathered.” He tried not to react to being read so openly. “I am asking for your personal accompaniment to a tomb. You shall be required.”
“I cannot leave the camp. I…” he stopped. He saw her produce a strategy map from a Vellax hide satchel, one lined with purity seals and assumedly specific wards set up by the ecclesiarchy. He saw a movement of Orks. He would have to move tonight. Through the night to avoid them. He wouldn’t lose resources. He wouldn’t lose men. He had been stolen the chance to prepare and fight of the green skins. He had been stopped from any other manoeuvre than retreat. He had been played by someone better at this game than him. He had no inkling of the Orkish movements, the tombs or anything else dictated by this simple movement. “I will not accompany you, I shall send Sgt Stagler and his auxiliaries with you. I shall not be forced into this. I cannot be. You have made me retreat and robbed my pride but you shall have the men. I cannot fight you here.” He raised his hand in compliance. He had already realised his being that didn’t matter but the considerable pressure she had put on him was necessary for him to follow her plan. He almost admired this, almost.
“Thank you. You are an intelligent man. This is acceptable.” She said this placing the map onto his desk. She was a bully but that was her right. He had control here. She could only take control in these underhanded ways. He felt safe in this fact. He had been beaten this time but not the next.
“If that is all Inquisitor?”
“Well there is one more thing. I understand you are lacking supplies and men. There shall be a forcible drop 20 clicks north East of here, they shall reunite with the group once they are prepared.” He nodded unsure of what to think. “I wish no ill will between us, I hope you do not hold a petty grudge.” He was unsure of the woman. She was very odd, he would regard her more carefully from her on.

Harven had began to prepare the movement of his men. A number setting mines, a number scouting and securing a route, the majority collected the supplies together. After the Colonel had finished in his order he consulted with Suzimoto.
“I am in need on council if you are not burdened by duty.”
Smiling she said “Of course Harven I can speak, you are my commanding officer are you not.”
“I’m sorry it is not anything major just a single question. Can we win?” It wasn’t that he doubted, he couldn’t afford to, he just wanted reassurance. She smiled again and left without a word. He understood yet had no worries. The Tomb then. He supposed it could be defensible. It was at least not in the territory of the dead or the warpath of the Orks. He would see. He was ready.

A conversation

“You are afraid.” The thin pale face smiled at him. It’s eyes were almost black, pools of oil drowning everything inside, whatever this thing was there was no light in these eyes, dead soulless eyes. “Scream out, it will be easier when you do.” The creature’s lithe body swayed and sashayed as it moved. Moved is wrong. The creature was still, the body almost mesmerising. It must be a trick of the light the guardsman thought. His vision cloudy distorted. His body pulsing a slow beat of pain, he shrugged it off. He wouldn’t get out of this by displaying weakness. The thing positioned itself behind him. This is where primal fear struck him. The presence was gone, there was no noise, no movement, even the air was still. He tried to turn. Pain reverberated through the guardsman’s body. a small escape of air released from his lungs. His bondage tightened. “Your heart rate is accelerating.” The noise came from directly in front of him. His head bounced to where the voice should be. “Your heart it sings to me.” Directly to his right this time. He was able to glimpse the shadow. This woman, this thing was toying with him. He had seen her face. Pale, thin. Too pale, too thin.
“Xenos fil..” A swift hit to his throat silenced him.
“Dead? Disappointing. We barely got started. Then rending his flesh from the entirety of the body is a meticulous and thankless task. His drug port kept him alive for a while apparently but it stole that suffering from me. Disappointing indeed.”

She tossed herself effortlessly to the other end of the crumbling hab block she was operating in. She activated a small locator matrix integrated into the system of a sergeant’s armour. She had offered to find the location of the mon keigh on this world for the archon. To come back without results would sully her reputation. Though she had no desire in discovering the information from the corpse she did wish to have her fun. Extinguish his light. She enjoyed that. watching as the hope faded. She touched her face. A small smile had broken out on her face. A tight cutting smile born on the pleasure on the suffering of an animal. She knew it shouldn’t be there. To indulge so completely was very improper. Her expression hardened when she noticed the invisible image. The dust on the floor had shifted to cover a small number of the speckles of vital fluid.
“Oh I do despise an audience on private matters, you have always been a voyeur though haven’t you prince?” She stayed facing away from where he should be located, to hide the smile, to prepare her blade. For safety only of course she lied to herself.
“I am here to discuss our agreement.” his voice full of authority, demanding to be heard, no emotion tethered it, imperious in its delivery. She was angry at the lack of a response.
“What about it? We have everything set up appropriately. You have your toys. I have given my word. What else could it possibly be?” She presented boredom with a certain level of irritation a hint of suggestiveness on the last line and most importantly a demeaning chortle after toys. She had worked exclusively on combining expression and emotion so closely to unbalance an opponent in the gladiatorial arena, she applied her considerable talent now against an amateur of the arena but a master of the universe. If he so desired he could tear her apart with his chaotic mind, a disgusting trait of the more reserved brethren. She had to be careful whilst also applying significant pressure. She enjoyed the terror of the experience.
“I am here to warn you again to refrain from the slaughter of the Mon Keigh.” His voice judging and direct. She span to see he was closer than she expected.
“So what? I had direct duties to the Archon to discover the locations of each guardsman camp in the direct area. To leave no casualties would be suspicious.”
“Your barbarism is not required. It will impact the morale of the troops. We need them in my plan.” He always returned to the unspecified plan, some secret masterpiece he had decocted based upon foresight, premonitions and other magicks. She needed the plan to succeed but not succeed to full fruition. She of course had no comprehensive knowledge on the majority of the plan or its wide ranging impacts. She did in fact not much care.
“I needed it. My soul was slipping, the restraint you claim so easy is how I shall be devoured by she who thirsts.” This was a lie. She had never been at all close to being consumed by that most foul of things but the prince’s backstep was the precise thing she was aiming for. It also proved the fool upheld his vow to not penetrate her thoughts with his probing. She felt uncomfortable broaching the subject, she lined this with regret, a small tinge of sadness. Not directed to the human filth of course but to the reversion to the lesser form of Eldar. That is what he would perceive. She almost laughed as the prince delivered his retort.
“I am sorry.” Liar. “Try to contain yourself.” Fool. “I know it is hard.” This ignorance was inconceivable. “I shall take my leave, aim for orks or those of the dark gods’ faction.” He began to leave with regret and embarrassment in his heart. She couldn’t resist turning the knife. “It is okay Victrein, it is my burden to live with and I should have aimed to destroy those that may interfere with your plan.” Her eyes downcast and shaky. “I will aim to reach your strict rigours, I do not wish to disappoint you again.” He stopped for a moment. She had broken his composure. He walked away without a word but that weakness signified to her he believed he could change her, ‘fix’ her, save her. She knew he was slowly becoming bound to her. When he died to her hand his pain would be incredible. He would deliver her the Kabal, the system, the power of this place and his own soul. She could not think of a more fitting prize.

Angel's Blessing

Is this a blessing? My heritage has returned. My wings. They move unto my will. They are grander, showier. They are so grand. I am unworthy of this. I shall not, I can not doubt. Others of the Nautilus suffer malignancies. Their bodies wracked with pain and weakness. I should lend my aid. Do what I can to assist. I know now most are wingless, I was different to them, they were all wingless. They are unproven. Unscarred. It is not they are devilish. They are just unwilling to do what they should. But, that man, that devil, he massacred my people, he showed no remorse as he violated the peace we strove for. He pierced my heart but I survived. When I face him next time I shall not have a reprieve. I must be ready. My failures shall not consume me. I was a guardian. I must be a guardian once more. I shall be the Emperor’s light. I shall purge those that dwell in the dark. There can be no forgiveness against these transgressions any longer, the darkness that corrupts man’s soul. I must honour my people. The lord-techpriest must assist me. I still cannot grasp the entire societal structure. I have some respect but I am still seen as an outsider. My language is still broken, my voice different, more brusque than others. Accented seen as an authority, not one of them, not their hero. An oppressor. They don’t understand the danger. The villains curse and deride me but so do the populace. They respect… no they fear me, my wrath. The Highers trust me. Those that are considered better than the majority. I have my wings back, a thing most personal to me, the thing most intimate. I’m trembling. I am afraid. I will not lose these things again. The people that I must protect. Those precious to me. I will not feel the loss of those around me. Pain lingers. On my back, by my heart. That man must die. By my heart. That woman surrendered her belief, her confidence in success in this task. I must do it. He has wounded me too highly. There is no forgiveness. He shall feel the Emperor’s righteous fury. I will be his hand. I will require armour. I must train before we arrive. Brickhouse has agreed. He is a good fighter. I will need to learn balance. It is strange having to learn to walk again. I shall wear my iron halo once more. I will be ready.

The blademaster

“She’s dead then.” Gurneo sat across from the informant. A small shrivelled man that had lacked both the benefits of a life under natural sunlight and a legacy above that of a slave.
“She is my lord. Her blade passed onto a protector.” The informant wheezed.
Gurneo focused for a moment. He had meant to take the blade at their last meeting. A defeat that would have earned a most holy relic. That bitch got in the way he thought allowing the judge’s face settle into his mind’s eye. He had no time for distractions. He rose, knowing that his presence would be required in the Thergald system. If he was to continue his work he had to also satisfy his employers.
“Sir?” The informant looked confused, “I have not told you the name of the one with the blade.”
“If she passed it on it will be the one she was travelling with. Besides that is not the only relic I am to acquire from those ingrates.” Turning to face the informant he glared fiercely into the man’s eyes. He was met with the aversion of the man’s eyes. “You have your payment I shall take my leave, stay silent your voice is an irritant.” Gurneo needed silence to focus on the tasks ahead. To keep his anticipation concealed. It would be a long journey. One in which his employer assumed he would venture towards Fornel. He would not. He decided to investigate the tombs of the old worlds. Try to find out all he could about the blade’s origin. Give it the proper respect it deserved. She deserved it also, she once was a great warrior before acting as an assassin, a hired murderer. There was no glory, no honour in that work. Before he realised he was in the lower areas of port. The so called ‘murder alley’. The lower classes had a way with words Gurneo remarked to himself. He walked these streets occasionally. Enough to attract attention but not enough to be remembered. Occasionally he would force confrontations to clean some of the port’s filth, that and test his sword arm against multiple disadvantaged opponents. Today he moved swiftly and silently. He passed the usual ambush spots without so much of a murmur. That girl how did she die? Who managed the final blow? Loyalist? Heretic? Xenos? Friend or foe? The thoughts swirled in his head. He imagined duels but could not easily place another in the victory position. A shame he thought. He would be there soon for two blades of light. He would have his prizes. No matter the opponent he would take the blades one way or another.

Brotaster time

“There is no room for cheaters in this contest.”

Brotaster rolled himself upright, stumbling and falling as he managed to stand. He became acquainted with the floor. Laughter filled the hall but for a moment, then noise was absent once more. He flopped over to lie on his back. He could feel the slow discontinuous heartbeat, a sharp pain with every stutter. His lung pressing feebly on his chest in hope that it may rise. He had felt worse pain. He had been right. To a degree. He had prepared the shadow as a shield. Not a physical one as she was used to, but a spiritual one. He choked out a laugh. One spent on mocking their combined misfortunes.
“The issue at hand,” he began righting himself and to clamber upwards “is that a ‘divine’ being just attempted to rip away my immortality.” He began to consider motivation for such an act. To kill him to eliminate him from these proceedings. “No, I am a part of this, no matter its strength I doubt it could end my life.” Then a warning for him to leave. “No I have paid the fee as it were, I cannot be evicted only glory awaits now; I’m sure there is more to that saying.” Perhaps then a reminder, an act to hurt him, not the most pain he has felt but enough to make him realise the stakes, to ensure his cooperation within the rules. “Yes.”
He studied the empty launching bay he stood in. Nothing of note. Not to his eyes at least. Though he couldn’t see her, generally he couldn’t, he knew he was alone. There was no soul to reach onto. No essence to view. So she was gone. Deserted was the first thought, quickly disregarded. Taken without her permission, stolen away, away from him. “Ah I am limited somewhat now.” He turned toward the elevator. The 26th one in this district. Assumed dysfunctional. In truth it was merely stuck, the machine spirit held hostage to limit the number of ambushers that could easily reach him. A simple gesture and a low resonating hum decreed it was back in operation. Towards the bridge. He would have to rely on the somewhat more conventional means of transport in this case. An imperial armada was a little grand but it would have to do. “The admiral will be an obstacle.” He had been a pleasure to serve thus far. A small frown creased his expression upon thinking of Haarlock. A brief thought that brought far too much discomfort. The traitor of dusk’s residue stuck to him no matter the years that passed or the distance he travelled. The admiral’s failings and corruption were nothing in comparison to that man. Brotaster considered his dabbling. Minor and inconsequential; always bitter. He thought of the vice-admiral, her waivering loyalty, need for command. The Commisar, her monstrous hunger. They all lust for power. He thought on Imperitrice. Her violence, cruelty and belligerence. He smirked. He reminded himself of her loyalty, her unwavering heart, her sincerity. He remembered her face. Every detail etched, for the moment at least, into his memory. His teeth clenched. He remembered what he did to her. The fact she died prematurely, without his consent, not the wishes of herself. Scared, running, not a warrior’s death. Not a death befitting her at all. He remembered the contract he forced. The kiss. Not of desire, nor as pure of love but that of desperation. She had shown misguided interest, he had to distract her and it was the most clear and obvious move. It had marked the decay in their relationship. All he said up till that point. The promises between friends unravelled at that moment. She did not seem to see that. He always understood the possibility, no the likelihood it would occur. The ultimatum shattered the balance. He wondered if he tasted of death. He realised he was progressing down the path of making her a symbol. No longer human but a representation of his weakness, failings and decline. He was distorting her. She didn’t deserve that. He thought of his failures. Too many to count. He wondered if he could go back. Redeem this in some way. No. He wondered if he could be broken. Beaten. He wanted that. He thought back on her person. “What a waste.” he shed silent tears “She might have been the one.” His mind screamed back at him, a backlash of the spirits of the dead. He was alone. He opened his eyes to see he was alone. He knew that it suited him.

Praecia's doubt
The tilt story

I thought I was attractive; not as much as Celeste but… Is my body? I know I’m strange. My body is different. My mind is different. I should just be able to take what I want but, when it it comes to it I… I can’t. I know it’s wrong so I don’t. I know somehow that it is a choice. Not mine. Why doesn’t he just decide? I know I’m a weapon, a tool, a freak but that doesn’t change it. Maybe he doesn’t care for me at all, maybe he despises me. But… I’d be OK with that. Not OK, mad, I’d hurt someone real bad but I could move on. The not knowing is why it hurts. But if I’m wrong and he does care then ARRRGH. Why is this hard? I’m so stupid. Fuck you Luscius! Don’t you know how hard I’m trying? Do you even realise I’m trying? Are you this dense? You’re so dumb. Wait. Maybe he has another? Nah. He barely speaks to anyone. That’s strange isn’t it. He isn’t whole anymore. Maybe he’s broken? Is he still pining for Celeste? Trapped in the past? Maybe I should back away? Maybe… such a weak word, I hate it. Luscius looks weak… he isn’t. He is making me weaker. I am not used to dancing around like this. I… I’ll do this my way. A definite message. I… I shall ask him directly. No more pussyfooting around. I will do this. I’m ready now.

What iz an Ork?



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