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Ambition Knows no Bounds

Discussion in 'Role Playing' started by Colapse, May 15, 2018.

  1. Colapse Colapse Forum Beta Tester

    Ambition Knows no Bounds

    Dramatis Personae

    (in alphabetic order)​

    Alfredo Belmonte di Pietro Achelieux, Lord Navigator aboard "Libertaé"

    Biter Combs, Helga's Chief Enforcer

    Bogi, Ogryn Bone'ead

    Caroline Boneville, Quartermaster of fleet Savoy

    Eva, Machine Spirit of "Libertaé"

    Gorthâür Dráuglanath, Mandrake Assassin

    Helana Van Thernic, Noble Spryer

    Helga Barrows, Bloody Baroness of Dreadheaven

    Husam al Din Vhospis, Chosen Ascendant of the Divine

    Issane Galoris, Assassin of Vanus Temple

    Jim Sterdust, Bounty Hunter

    Mickey Brains, Ratling savant

    Nikolas Teng, Enforcer

    Olna, Sun Slayer

    Oscar Terryn, Inquisitional Interrogator - KIA

    Piotr, Dreg leader aboard "Libertaé"

    Raska Pale, Biomancer Surgeon

    Stephan Morris, Scoundrel

    Strahn, Heretek

    Thaes Nossus, Mr. Sawbones, Adeptus Biologis

    William Savoy, Rogue Trader, Lord of the House Savoy


    It is said that humanity, ever since it was first conceived all the way back in those dark times now lost to memory, always looked skyward for its salvation. Be it a place where their deities made their home or a place where only distant lights shined, it was always a thing that held every man's gaze, a place of infinite possibilities where the only limit was your own imagination. It was no surprise that from those times, the mankind's lust for exploration and progress was always aimed towards the distant sky and the hidden wonders just waiting to be found behind the next horizon.

    Science, curiosity, expansionistic plans or simple need for survival, those and many other factors played their part as the long years passed and humanity rose above its simple nature and reached for the stars. Perhaps it's in those actions that we could find the seeds of strife, as whatever reason those pioneers had for exploring were always underlined by one and one thing alone. Ambition. To reach the distant shores, gain immeasurable wealth and cement your name in the history books, you name it. It was the ambition that spearheaded the progress and it was the ambition that ultimately led to humanity's downfall.

    However, no matter how grim the darkness of the present was, the thoughts of greatness always worm into the minds of mortals and while many of those eventually fall and become slaves to the very darkness that nurtured them, there are few to whom the fate dealt a different set of cards and who were destined for a different story. In the past known by many different names, here at this moment at the end of 41st millennium, they were called Rogue Traders.

    Led by the need to match the deeds of Imperial heroes of old, by the drive to plunge their sword into the star maps and see their names written all over the newly-found worlds brought into the light of the God-Emperor, or perhaps a wish to find and save the lost parts of galaxy where the broken remnants of humanity dwelt, or even by some less noble goals, these people were the ones who stood at the frontier of Imperium, gazing straight into the shadow of beyond and not looking back.

    One such man, one Rogue Trader of Holy Terra, but only in name, was William Savoy.

    Born on the Imperial world of Hydraphur as a first son of Francis and Mary Savoy, William had it all. The fame and wealth which the name his family's ancestors chiseled into the annals of Segmentum's history and Imperium at wide by being the ones who explored the bigger piece of this part of the galaxy gave him and the good looks his mother's side was famous in the noble circle of his homeworld made the young noble prime candidate for many activities in such a place. Being rich and famous was easy enough for William and while his father, still the head of the house and acting Rogue Trader, waged war in the Emperor's name, Will fought different kind of battles in bedrooms of many noble's daughters and dens of ill repute across the Segmentum. Reputation of the House Savoy was at stake but young noble couldn't care less. Being the only child prevented any and every form of more serious punishment from his elders as the old line of Rogue Traders couldn't be afforded to be so easily severed. So William endured and as his escapades grew, so did his infamy.

    It eventually exploded as the words spread of his father's death at the hands of the servants of the Arch Enemy on some distant frontier world. Suddenly yanked back into the world of adults, William found himself on the receiving end of every responsibility he evaded his entire life and not only that, but with the position of new Lord Savoy, every debt that he and his house had came for collection. It didn't help that Ecclesiarchy, the Holy Church of the Imperium, intended on making Francis some kind of a saint and therefore, was intent on claiming all of his earthly possessions in order to canonize them and call them relics. The immediate result of leaving the Savoys with nothing much to go with, a fact that would be widely known to many of the house's enemies made William do the thing he did best. He gathered what little loyal retainers he had, gathered everything he could carry including few artifacts of the house and the Warrant of Trade, took the flagship "Liberté", and ran for his life.

    Getting away from the Imperium's officials by heading straight for the Segmentum's western frontier wasn't really hard, William was a Rogue Trader after all with his Warrant hailing all the way back to the forming of Emperor's domain as well as the fame his family name gave him, the safe passage was assured. However the problem wasn't how to get to the frontier, the problem was what to do when you are there, in debt to a criminal overlord after a night spent in a pirate den gambling and having way too much bad luck to consider it good for your health.

    Criminal overlord was called Helga Barrows, also known as Bloody Baroness, and the gambling den was located in a place called Dreadheaven. Space station formed couple of thousand years ago during the Imperial expansion, after the Orks in this part of the Segmentum proved to be quite difficult to root out, the conquest was halted and the Imperial forces took another route, leaving both this station and couple of nearby planets at the Greenskin's famous mercy. The first overlord of the station understood the situation and being so far away from the light of Astronomicon, made him into quite a pragmatist. Deals were struck and disaster was averted, which made Dreadheaven evolve from a military outpost into a proper heaven of scum and villainy.

    Once again finding himself in a tight spot, William made a deal with the devil. In exchange for his life, he would find employment with the Dreadheaven's criminal leadership and help them procure important items and work for them until his debt was repaid. In truth, such arrangement worked for the young Rogue Trader - backed by such an organization and having a place to hide from the long arm of the law, he would be able to restore his house to its former glory and return to the Imperium as a successful man on his own terms. If that meant cutting some corners, so be it.

    Presence of a Rogue Trader, no matter how fortunate and powerful, created enough commotion in a place like Dreadheaven, and when the locals learned of his location, there were many of them who hurried to the docking bay 6 to meet the man himself and hopefully enter his service. Those that did would find him in front of the loading bay, overseeing the long supply line that was headed for the ship. William Savoy himself was a tall man, black hair cut short to make a modern haircut, at least back with Hydraphur's nobility, alongside facial features devoid of any scars and looking like they were copied directly from Schola Progenium's memory hall picturing famous Imperial champions and generals alike, made the Rogue Trader quite stand out amidst his peers, which were in most case either dock workers or ship's armsmen, with the exception of a rather large Ogryn abhuman that shadowed his leader's every step. Add to that a fine attire consisting of a drake-leather boots, long dark-blue coat covering exquisitely crafted armor beneath with the symbol of the House - a yellow gryphon standing above crossed sabers on a blue background - etched on the center of it. He also carried a rather expensive-looking sword at his hip, golden guard and finely-crafted edge gave away its worth but at the same time didn't look like it was used often. Same thing could be said for a pistol holstered on his other side, long single-barreled monster created in some forgotten time with its gilded metal and handle made to resemble a snarling dragon, it was indeed a possession worthy of a man of his stature.

    Everyone who wasn't frightened by William's gear could approach him easily enough - his eyes the color of deep sea projected sort of lightness formed from intelligence you could only be born with, but there was no hostility in the look, only simple mischief. It helped with the fact he sent a message on the holo-net couple of hours ago that he was hiring able individuals to join his crew and explore new worlds, gain fame and earn riches and plunder beyond your wildest dreams...

    @Draconion @High_Adept_Zeth @Uriel1339 @Vulpas @Grall_Stonefist @ItsTime @Maleth @Casavay @Redthirst @bossaroo + @BuriasDempsey
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  2. Uriel1339 Uriel1339 Lord of Posts

    Husam al Din Vhospis was being sold off without having even realized it. He was pointed the way to go and was promised to be led by no less than a very dragonslayer who, too, was a chosen in a way of his own. Blessed by the Divine to go wherever amongst the stars he pleased. To slay monsters, to reclaim lands in the divines name and of course to learn of how he himself may ascend to banish the dark star.

    "BEHOLD! I AM HUSAM AL DIN VHOSPIS!" He theatrically entered the loading bay, hands on the hilts of his twin shotels, drawing them both and raising them to the air before performing a martial-art-acrobatic performance that made him stop a good 12 feet away from the chosen and his oversized bodyguard, then sheathing the blades again across his back. Clad in his golden, chosen armor, with the warming and protective arms of the Divine wrapping around his chest.

    "I SHALL FOLLOW YOU INTO THE DARK STAR ITSELF IF YOU COMMAND SO!" Husam continued in a far-too-loud voice, yelling as if to make sure all and everyone could hear him.


    Husam crossed his hands across his chest, legs pressed together and himself standing at full height. His posture might remind one of a typical posture of the statue display of a Sarcophagus. "LEAD THE WAY AND I SHALL FOLLOW, CHOSEN OF THE STARS!"

    He broke slowly out of his stance and considering the face-hiding mask, there was no facial expression that could give away of whether this human was serious or if it was more akin to a performance. Time would tell. Although, William was informed by the seller that Vhospis was a feudal world and as such, a citizen from that world could be rather... Unique in terms of behavior and social customs.
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  3. High Adept Zeth High_Adept_Zeth Arkhona Vanguard

    <Issane Galoris, Assassin of Vanus Temple. Unbound Infocyte>

    "...fifty-five metric tonnes of promethium..."

    Clapping the lid of the blackwood case closed, grey-haired man lighted the lho-stick, the brief flash of the burner briefly illuminating the spacious interior around him. Statues framed by shadows, half hidden in the alcoves at regular intervals interspersed by an occasional leering gargoyle. Light coming from the large oval rosette-window the only thing indicative of that the interior was not a tomb, despite its somber aesthetics. It is a scriptorium within a tower, one of many cresting upon the crenelated bulk of Liberté, an old and venerated starship like many in Imperial service. Unlike many this one has a unique trait, it serves as a flagship to a pampered dolt of a Rogue Trader, one William Savoy.

    The assassin did not hold it against his employer, despite the harsh thoughts. He knew that many of Savoy's ilk were conceited waste of blood and bones before they get a taste of the real void.

    Issane inhaled the scented smoke of the lho-stick, his ungloved thumb dancing absentmindedly across the polished surface of the blackwood case, before putting it away in the inside of the coat. Exhaling, he turned away from the window, snapping from his thoughts back into reality:

    "...and an additional three tonnes of starch grain to the original request. To offset the increased food consumption that is sure to come with new crew members. Have we forgotten something?" Issane asked into the twilight but already knew the answer. The ending to the scribbling sound told him enough.

    "Vox it to port. That will be enough supplies for Liberté's capacity. And vox if you need me." Issane spoke, with another puff of smoke he quickly departed the somber tower, an ugly smirk on his face almost invisible in the twilight. His haste two-fold. First, he hated this part of his duties, playing at an administrator, the scribes always reminding him of cryptocrats of the Temple. Incompetence excluded.
    Second, he had duties to attend to at the port itself. From what he could deduce, Lord William is going to hire some high priority brains and muscle. Advisors, underlings, hired guns and fodder to his person. A retinue in the making?

    And Issane will be there to see them for himself. That and the supplying process.
    Not that Lord William would prize his opinion as to ask him on the promising candidates, but he'll be damned if a freeloader kills his benefactor.

    As he disembarked with a shuttle, he looked back thought the crystalflex window at the bulk of the receding starship. Liberté, what a name for a starship that houses thousands of slave-gangers.

    <Docking Bay 6, Dreadhaven starport>

    Observing the supply train from one of many gantries, Issane looked below at the bay, observing the teeming masses of volunteers and the Rogue Trader himself flanked by his Ogryn bodyguard, inspecting the future crew.

    One of the gathered was particularly loud and assassin focused on the man instinctively. The telescopic lenses behind his fake organic eye zoomed in onto the man clad in what looked as golden armor reminiscent of some blackguard, the set topped with a abyss black helmet. Parting his lips finding purchase onto another lho-stick, Issane watched with some amusement, despite the distance, at the entertaining man.

    With an occasional glance, of course, at the supply train of servitors and serfs, loading the goods onto the shuttles.
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  4. Fox Vulpas Well-Known Member

    As one sun sets another Rises

    The heart in Olna's chest continued to beat from a racing pace to a controlled beat, as well as several of her comrades, all of them covered in blood and scars of there most recent battle a small success that resulted in there pay and the rewards it brought from finally killing a employers rival as well as there own cadre. Slowly the feeling of the adrenaline and the chant that she was so used to would slowly fade from her mind and body as well as the other bounty hunters from the recent conflict all were heading to one place. The bar and for several hours the three would begin drinking and going separate ways, another hunt, A madman personal business and for The Sun Slayer she would drink until her path had lead to her hearing of the rogue traders offer for Glory, booty, and most important of all honor, of fighting all kinds of creatures no one has likely had slain yet and with that the Valkyrie was heading to the port after grabbing any possessions she had and cared for in dreadhaven and left heading to the port with a drunken grin under her blood stained helmet.

    Port- @Uriel1339 @High_Adept_Zeth
    The Valkyrie would arrive her armor having blood stains and various forms of battle scars in the forms, of dents from autogun rounds, melting from lasgun shots, or stab or even a few scars from blades and hammers blood had dried from her last battle only now chipping of to a dull grey colored armor at her side was her chain axe, and at her other side a hand flamer. As Olna entered she would hear the blathering of what looked to be some highborn knight, A odd sight to see here but now on that of the world she was born on. Spouting of great accomplishments and his own destiny.

    Olna nearly snorted under her helmet at the highborn hearing talk of him being chosen to ascend beyond mortality, wondering if this man was mad or telling the truth. Olna had heard of those with visions, being guided, as well as those after death returning temporarily to deliver a message or even giving guidance, or The sun kings great suns who are beside him with death, though she had only heard of a legend of a person ascending beyond mortality as one of his warriors, To say these words and bold claims was one thing. but to prove them in a fight was another.

    Deciding to speak to the rogue trader directly she decided to get being hired on finished before continuing to watch the show that the highborn was performing. Looking to passed the man smoking a ltho stick she looked directly to the rogue trader. "So you be Willam aye? I heard you were hiring warriors, and body guards for a trip into the frontier. I wish to sign on and give my the oath of services as a warrior." Olna said as she did one of she was taking off one of her gauntlets and putting it on her belt her hand was a lighter color then her armor and on it several scars could be seen if one looked close enough in the palm of her hand.
  5. Brother_Draconion Draconion Well-Known Member


    [A short while ago]

    In the depths of the ship's bowels, something stirs. Beneath the hollow gaze of at least a score of skulls set into the walls of a crude circular space hidden in the bilge sinks, a night-black shape appears to coalesce from the shadows of the deck. As it takes on vaguely-humanoid shape, patterns of icy fire trace their way across its obsidian skin in swirling spirals and jagged lines that cause the eyes to water and the skull to ache. A pair of eyes appears in the inky void of what passes for a face, glowing electric-blue with the surfeit of a recent feast. As the figure crosses a pool of relative light for a much longer shadow - forming a corridor through much of the sinks - it does not quite glide with the predatory grace one might expect, but moves rather more tentatively. Almost, but not quite, limping, as though halt with old pain.

    From a small, but decently furnished, cabin in the more reputable parts of the ship, a figure emerges, though no one has been seen to enter or leave for a good length of time. Wrapped from head to toe in the utilitarian, hard-wearing clothes of void scum the galaxy over, its hands are shrouded in form-fitting black synskin gloves, its head fully wrapped in an off-white turban. Perhaps the one remarkable touch in this otherwise-ubiquitous assemblage is the exquisitely-carved mask that obscures the figure's face. Depicting an eerily serene humanoid face of androgynous and disturbing beauty, the ornament appears to be crafted from a hard, white, marble-like material and is obviously of Eldar make. This one *does* stride with fluid, predatory grace, making its way for loading docks. The Little Lord is attending to his recruitment drive, and this one wants to appraise the new arrivals for himself. No telling until the package is unwrapped whether the newcomers will be peers...or meat.


    Standing amidst the shadows of a stack of pallettes atop an even larger stack of pallettes, the killer known only as Thû observes the carnival of recruitment from a comfortable elevation. First, the grandstanding warrior in golden armour with twin scythe-like swords and the sun-kissed skin of a desert world. Thû was ready to dismiss him until he squinted a bit closer, and the light reflected off said armour made his insides twist just so. This one was no mere jumped-up savage overly ready to take on a universe broader than his mind could countenance. That armour was touched by the fates, and no one came into possession of such by accident.

    So...a jumped-up ignorant savage with a destiny, then.

    Next came a female clad in heavy plate armour, who walked like she ate, drank, and slept in it, to say nothing of killing in it a great deal. From her words, a straight-up killer-for-hire. Thû could respect the prosaic honesty of that - in a galaxy such as this, there was little more honest than someone who sold their sword for a living, and priced according to how sharp it was.

    And speaking of killers...

    Thû's eyes roam towards Issane Galoris, smoking one of his ever-present lho-sticks by the Little Lord's side. He had come early aboard - about the same time as Thû himself - as one of the ship's officers. A numbers man and military tactician of sorts, by all accounts, but Thû wasn't fooled by the fussy, punctilious demeanour. To Thû's sharpened senses, the man might as well have exuded the stink of blood from his very pores. Thû could practically smell the discipline instilled in him, even - and especially - when he pretended otherwise. Issane - or whatever his real name was - was the product of training of the very highest order, a king amongst killers.

    Beneath the mask, a fanged, feral grin spreads before disappearing once more into the nondescript inky void of shadowed flesh. If Issane was the only one of his kind who joined the crew, he alone was already sufficient to make this quest interesting.
  6. Ancient ItsTime Preacher

    Unsettling Beginnings

    he young Interrogator towered above the lifeless body of a raven-haired woman clad in armour that is all too similar to his own, the smoke still rising from the recently shot woman into the atmosphere of the dimly lit room he had used for his interrogations for the past three weeks. Dreary and depressing was the only way the room could be described up until now... now it's painted a dark red.

    Oscar turned the safety of his laspistol on with his index finger and tucked it back into it's rightful place, inside a holster hidden beneath his dark trenchcoat. His eyes fixed on the body of his former peer as thoughts ran across his mind and droplets of sweat gathered on his forehead.

    Finally after long and cruel moments of shock Oscar uttered a prayer before turning about and leaving the room in a hurry.

    The Docking Bay

    For Oscar plans have changed now, he mustn't stay on this dreaded station more than hes been welcomed to. Oscar had overheard that a rogue trader had docked at port 6, a perfect opportunity to disappear from the station. The walk took ages for Oscar, he walked and walked in a hasty pace that made him look more suspicious than average before finally reaching the gates of dock 6. He only had mere moments to observe those who are entering the bay before the hairs on his neck stood and shivers went down his spine, his paranoia pressing him to move onward.

    So there he was, with a stern face and a hand on his holster, finally entering the docking bay in silence before making his way towards the crowd and locking his gaze with the presumed Rogue Trader's.
  7. Colapse Colapse Forum Beta Tester

    <Docking Bay 6, Dreadheaven Starport> @Uriel1339 @Draconion @Vulpas @High_Adept_Zeth @ItsTime


    "Boss, I think this one is a bit crazy," Ogryn said as he placed his hand on the ripper gun, holding it at the ready but not actually raising it as the loud knight approached them.
    "Nonsense Bogi, can't you see the man is happy to see us?" William replied and gestured to Husam to come closer after his sword show.

    "Hm, not sure why do you call me dragonslayer, don't think I actually slayed any of those things, whatever they are, but then again..." Rogue Trader placed his hand on his chin, thinking a bit harder this time. "Yes, yes, I think I know what you mean. I once dueled a noble from the House Mont back on Hydraphur, they called themselves "Dragon-riders" or something stupid like that. Although that noble only lost his arm, not his life...but I guess that's enough for your Divine eh? Beggars can't be chosers and I would know that. Bogi," he gestured to Ogryn who took out a data-slate from a pocket on his belt and handed it over to Husam al Din more nibly than expected for such a creature.

    "You got some basic info on it to help you get your bearings on my ship. Grab yourself a free cabin but make yourself ready, I already wasted enough time on Dreadheaven."


    Finishing the talk with the knight just in time to spot the second newcomer, William turned around and made a polite bow, taught during the classes in only the best schools of noble behavior the young Savoy didn't really attend that much, but loved to improvise as he guessed these people didn't actually know the difference anyway.

    "Greetings fair lady, yes indeed, we are currently recruiting new personnel to join my crew and explore the stars! You look like you've seen a fair share of combat, no offense but that armor looks like its in need of some repairs, however have no fear, I can offer you that and more. But first tell me, what is your name and what do you actually do, except soaking bullets?" an attempted joke but perhaps not too thought-out. Then again, Will was more of an improvisation expert than a real calculated mastermind.


    While the assassin was smoking the cigar and was busying himself overseeing the newest additions to the crew, his vox rang, the familiar voice of Micky Brains, the ratling savant in charge of logistics of Fleet Savoy. In truth, it was one-ship fleet but William took pride in calling it like that if only to make it grander than it really was. Micky on the other hand, short creature with huge glasses and followed by a rather nasty stench due to the fear of water (which he contributed to his childhood where he nearly drowned in a river - even though there's no actual running water on Ornsworld), knew the difference but kept his mouth shut on that topic. He was quite bothersome to say at least, but like most of people in Will's current crew, it was there due the fact nobody actually knew what they were doing.

    "Sieur Galoris, I have to reply a retort to you from esteemed Master Alfredo. His Navigatorial lordship says that the carpets you procured for him are not what he was looking for, matter of fact he is mostly concerned for his declining health. The material from which the carpets came into their flat existence was from Nova Terra instead of Macharia, and Master Alfredo is fearful that such occurence might lead into appearance of chaotical tendencies that his old lordship can't endure in these trying years. Please, is it possible that we get another set of those things?"


    "Boss, that one is looking at you funny," Bogi said as Oscar approached, pointing at the man with one of his meaty fingers.
    "Bogi, I think you are right," William said and grunted, not looking all too happy to be scrutinized in such manner. "You there, do I know you? I don't think I do, but then again you could never tell...I don't owe you money, do I?"
  8. -Little Shop of Horrors-
    Deeper in Dreadhaven station where the market place was situated, a sign glowing in neo green reading "Mr.Sawbones' Clinic and pet emporium" in low Gothic sat above a two door entry way. While it was indeed open, it's well kept interior was empty of customers and patients due to the arrival of the Noble known as William Savoy, at least according to the message the Trader sent out. The only living souls in the place, besides the xenos fauna in their built in wall enlosures, were a scrawny young woman wearing thick black gloves and apron for protection as she tossed in chunks of meat into the bin of rippers and in the back was the towering mechanical being of gun grey metal the establishment was named after, or at least his alias, that busy himself with packing his few possessions and finishing his own duties by cleaning the toxic residue left behind by a Catachan Devil that was recently sold.

    "So where you heading today boss? 'Nother house call?" The woman asked as she closed the lid, a feeding frenzy happening. Probably going to lose a couple of rippers to impromptune cannibalism but there's still dozens more in other tanks.

    "No Nadeline, I believe I'll finally be leaving the station." Mr. Sawbones replied, his voice reverberating through the speaker slits at the end of the reptilian shaped head unit. Underneath the reverb the voice was deep and slow with a rasp that should belong to a long time lho stick smoker.

    "Shit....really? You been talking about it, never thought it'd happen." Nadeline admitted as she put away the gloves and apron. He didn't take it negatively, the old tech priest knew he's been here for several years now doing just that, talking about leaving but never doing it.

    "This...Savoy man, has been the only thing that had docked in this den of low brow thugs and thieves that seems to promise more than just more mercenary work that I grew tired of before. A sign of the Omnissiah if you will." He explained as he walked over the the counter near the front door, each step a solid think of metal with clicks of the spiked toes stabilising each step.

    "Sounds like you're pretty serious. So what about your store? Gonna close shop?" She asked as a look of concern crossed her face. This has been her only place of steady income and she now worried if she's getting sent up the warp without a Gellar field now her boss is leaving.

    "My store? You mean your store." Sawbones corrected her as he worked the vault.

    "Wait what?!" She asked walking up to him and the counter, now wondering the hell he meant. His two arms became four as the ad hoc doctor began multitasking.

    "Here's the Keys and passcode chips." Setting a ring of keys and black bar objects on the counter for her. "This comm unit will be where all our previous business contacts and regular customers will be calling through now, since you don't have the cerebral implants like I do. Also here's your bonus for putting up with this bucket of bolts for so long." He said with a grating chuckle as he laid down a thick stack of credits. "You'll need it for your new business after all. What? Don't give me that look, Why do you think I was saving so much? This was inevitable, so I planned in making sure you had something to fall back on case of something went wrong. A lesson I learned many times now." Sawbones said nonchalantly as Nadeline was standing there speechless at what was happening. "Now, if you ever need advice on some merchandise or patient, I'll forward you the information needed to contact the Traders ship before we leave. And remember the bolter is behind the counter, but yourself some carapace armor too. Goodbye and stay safe." He said as a farewell, patting her head with one of his metal talon hands whole two others held his power axe as a walking stick, leaving the shop for the final time.

    "Oh......shit." Nadeline finally uttered long after her former boss had left, the shock of her promotion and generosity fading away now. Though the bitter sweet moment passed as the aviary's occupants began squawking incessantly for their morning feed.

    -Down at the Docks-
    Finally arriving at the dock location, Thaes 'Sawbones' Nossus could see a few people are already plying to be apart of this Rouge's retinue. Namely two rather well armed and armored warriors, one acting as if from an old child's tale of fantasy from several ages in the past and the other much more self controlled in her approach. While he was sure space will be a premium on the ship, Thaes believes his knowledge and expertise could earn him his spot on the....aged vessel He could see. While he stood head and shoulders above almost everyone here, he still stepped forward to make himself known to the man. "This one wishes to humbly offer his knowledge of human and xenos anatomy, biology, and genealogy to you Lord Savoy. I think many here present can also can attest to my ability with a scalpel as well, formerly running the only clinic on this station. They call me Mr.Sawbones." he introduced himself with a bow of his head and upper torso as a sign of respect. He didn't want to give his real name yet, as he wasn't too keen on not knowing if this freelance nobel would turn him in to the nearest mechanicus forget for whatever reward his head was worth.
  9. Saraph Midas Casavay Well-Known Member


    A strong hand, bruised and roughened, led a thin blade through flesh. Red bloomed where it cut, a testament to its edge's utter inadequacy. It was painfully dull. Sub-par materials, the result of a man who cut costs in the wrong place. She didn't really care if he was suffering, after all, as long as there was a survivor, she'd get paid. A spontaneous twitch threw off her aim, and she withdrew the scalpel. There was a soft groan, though not from her, and not from her onlookers.

    "He's waking up, you know", hissed one mockingly. She did not respond at first, a bit concerned with the blood already lost, but eventually, after she wiped her sweaty brow with her sleeve, she smirked. The brunette at the operating table quipped, "Fine by me. Proves your product shoddy, mate." A souring expression darkened the irritant's face, but before he could get a word in edgewise, the patient's groans got louder and his contortions more pained. "Can't take pain well, your boss, can he?", she queried idly, her tone utterly at odds with the increased haste and - yes - hecticness she had begun to work with.

    The gathered crowd had gotten much quieter, caught up in the tension of the moment. She knew, and she relished in the rapt attention she commanded. This was why she loved performing surgery in front of an audience, after all. Although she also felt that having a bunch of people ready to kill you right beside tended to help with moto issues, too. Gave that little extra competence, born from the desire to survive. But honestly, it wasn't like she needed it. The guy got shanked bad, piece of metal broke off and splintered. No big deal; she'd cut out frags from people before, even back when she was still under Imperial colours. Kind of a big deal was the fact this idiot, some local corrupt labour leader, didn't think to get it looked at until it started hurting bad. And now it was two minutes to midnight, and Raska Pale had found herself excising dead tissue for the last quarter hour. Honestly, she wasn't even sure if it was all from the same injury any more, but the amount of ichor his body had amassed in small pockets was certainly prodigous.

    Pale was finishing the final cut, purging the final necrotisations, when it turned out that this idiot drug-dealer wannabe's sedatives apparently didn't hold up to his enthusiastic advertisments. Well, another lession learned about cutting cost, she thought. After all, it was on the man's own orders. If he did not trust her meds, she would not part with them.

    Her onlookers watched the pirate surgeon switch between tools, her own little electrical cauterising torch filling the room with an unpleasant aroma of burnt flesh and ultimately making way for the fish hook needle she used to sew the man shut again. By then, he was screaming and struggling, and from the crowd of his workers, two burly men emerged that had to hold him down. Raska couldn't say she wasn't thankful for the help; she'd likely have sewn her own hand to him if it weren't for them.

    "The guy's a wuss", she complained, gritting her teeth during the finishing touches. "But he made it. Now listen up, you idiots, or he's going to die anyway."


    "Bum one off you?", Pale asked her lho-smoking acquaintance outside the warehouse that had become a makeshift operating theatre. He obliged her with a curt nod, and she leant beside him on the wall, igniting the tiny herbal rod. "Days like this make me miss the Chem Dogs. They told you stuff would knock you out? You were out cold. Drug cooks 'round here just don't cut it."

    The swarthy man smiled the barest of smiles, his lips only twitching upward briefly. They stood there in silence for a while, lho sticks growing shorter. Eventually, he spoke up. "Peruse the holonet recently?"

    Both stared forward, not at each other. Raska exhaled a plume of smoke through her nose, was quiet for a moment. "Nah."

    "You should. Looks like your ticket forward."

    His words got her attention, and she turned her head to look at the bald man, larger and broader than most. She honestly didn't know his name, but they'd met the day she left her crew and he'd proven a reliable, entertaining man to spend idle moments with. In a way, the anonymity was refreshing. She quirked a dark eyebrow. "Come again?"

    Instead of wasting more breath, he pulled up a device and showed Pale the message directly. The surgeon frowned, narrowed her eyes as she read. It almost sounded too good - an old-style call to action. A recruitment drive for a new ship. Seemed somewhat different. Not what she wanted, no, but she'd spent long enough on this infested hell-hole, and wanted to see new things.

    The psyker punched her nameless companion in the shoulder. "Thanks. Owe you one. Ever need healing and I'm in the area, call me up - the real healing, you know, the scar-free package." She didn't smile and neither did he - not really their style - but there was a sense of finality to their parting, and he returned the soft hit with a gentle fondness. "Don't get yourself killed, healer", were his last words to her ere she hurried to the loading bay.


    The place was busier than Raska had assumed at first, but so public an announcement was rarely unheeded. Her hood drawn deep into her face, bearing her mystic armament proudly as she pushed her way through the crowd, the healer slowly but surely made progress in her search for the instigator of this glorified job ad.

    Once she reached the man who looked just foppish enough to fit the bill, she came to a standstill and let her eye roam over him. Bad-looking, he wasn't, neither a little milk-drinker like so many nobles nor a brute like most scum. He looked positively dangerous. A good trait for any potential employer, even though he seemed less like a pirate captain and more like... some other sort of retinue-amassing folk. The functionally one-eyed physician inclined her head, and kept staring at first, her posture straight like a soldiers, but with the barest hint of looseness not normally found in Cadians.
  10. Uriel1339 Uriel1339 Lord of Posts

    @Colapse (and everyone present)

    The warrior mused at the device, then shook his head. "These outworldly devices are beyond me." He said deadpanned to the Ogryn, unfaced of his size. He was not sure where such tame golem could be found, but it truly impressed the chosen. Moreso than the star-vessel behind them, or any of the new arrivals.

    "As for your trophy then, Chosen Starfarer." He pointed at the dragon-head-hilt of William. "I suggest then to not make false appearances. The Divine abides treason of all forms, including misguidance. And a many people met the completion of their fates at my blade due to such transgressions."

    It was not as much a warning as it was rather a concerned comment, in fact it was advice from one chosen to another. "I will familiarize myself with your voidsailer now. I'm glad you recognize that our destinies are intertwined." He gave a firm nod to William, not caring much about the others, such was the business of the shipowner, not that of a chosen. Husam al Din Vhospis had to focus on his ascension, everything else were whispering temptations to make him stride away from his path. But luckily his armor would be a constant reminder. For while the embrace now was like a protective embrace, was he to fall to the temptations of the dark star it could easily become a choking grip. Or such did the chosen believe.

    Husam stepped into the ship and just started to walk around, seeing if he might spot anything of interest. And more importantly. If a room would call to him. A room with the right... Harmony.

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