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[Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

01 Nov 2011, 22:57

Opening Music - Sword of the Stranger, Ihojin No Yaiba

Ambition knows no bounds. My father taught me that. My great-grandfather taught him that. My greatest ancestor proved it. And I learned it well.

It is the 41st Millenium. The God-Emperor of Mankind sits upon the Golden Throne on Holy Terra, his body broken and shattered. The Imperium of Man stands in it’s twilight; attacked on all sides by foes more legion than ever before. Xenos of all stripes, fierce and terrible, cry havoc and wreak destruction with wild abandon. Chaos, traitors and heretics, creep in, insidious and foul, at the borders; subverting what they can and annihilating what they cannot. And amidst our own, opportunists and villains take advantage of these fading decades and centuries as best they can. It is a galaxy in flames. A galaxy ever at war. A galaxy watched over by a glorious Emperor and his fading Imperium, and filled with the cruel laughter of blood-thirsting gods.

And yet…into one place in this galaxy flies a single ship. A grand and ancient vessel, but one battered and bloodied, a last hurrah from a dying house, struggling against the onset of night. Yet, if there is one truth as to this dark millenium, it is this; no man will die quietly. No man will fade without a fight.

My name is Alexei Nikolayevitch Zhukov. Last hope of the Zhukov Family. Rogue Trader of the Imperium of Man. Leader of the most ragged band of misfits ever seen in the Imperium. Lord-Captain of the Angel of Vengeance.

I have ambition. And so does my crew.

These are our stories.


The depths of the void stand silent, cold and trackless. Points of light, stars of the galaxy, give what little light they can against the ever-present dark.

At one place, at the edge of the Calixis Sector, stands an ancient station; a port, a passage. Port Wander stands, a mixture of rust and glitter, the last bastion of Imperial law before The Maw and the Expanse beyond. It is both glorious and pitiful at the same time, gothic and grand, but aged and worn with the passing of innumerable years. Thousands, tens of thousands make this ancient station their home; swaggering civilian captains, merchants fat of purse and jowl, members of Administratum, Ecclesiarchy, and more make livings and killings here. Here, one may trust to the Emperor’s Law, albeit through gelt, thrones, and influence. Beyond…only what law a captain may enforce with chainsword and macrocannon.

Those at the Port this day go about their buisness as usual; somewhere near the primary void docks, a freighter captain argues with an overly fat merchant as to the price of his goods, brought at great danger through the chaos of the Maw. Somewhere in the Sensorium, a man, or what was a man, sits wired and bolted to an assortment of machines, his enhanced mind tracking a staggering number of comings and goings through the old auspex relays. Deep within the bowels of forgotten passageways, a thug runs screaming from something hideous and foul, it’s claws lancing into his helpless back and dragging him into the dark.

Something…different comes this day, however. A merchant, bored and idle, looks through an armorglas window, taking a moment to stare into the Void…and sees something. A glow. A glow that grows ever larger. For a split-second, the Warp seethes and roils, and spits something out; a ship. Larger than nearly any other currently at dock, save one or two Battlefleet Koronus cruisers.

An ancient battlecruiser, marked with long-held scars of battle, aims itself towards the Port, a low hum emitting from it’s long-range voxcasters towards the Powers What Be at the station itself. We circle around the battlecruiser, seeing it’s aged appearance, macrocannon batteries and lance hidden through strange means, the still-elaborate gilded Warpsbane hull, with a statue of Ollanius Pius standing proud a-midships, standing both figuratively and literally between the daemons of the Warp and the crew within. We see it’s massive engines, still spitting plasma and fire into the Void as the ship moves resolutely on, the old fighter bay, where men and women, tiny as ants, can be seen scrambling as duties are assigned and discharged in rapid order; port awaits!

We see a large window, below the top of the ship; we see a bridge, an elaborate bridge, a ship's command centre that should be at the head of a proud house fleet, where men and women in aged uniforms move with almost indecent haste. And a man, in an impeccable uniform, with a power sword and plasma pistol on his belt, an ancient chainsword upon his back, an elaborate hat on his head, and a half-smile on his face, sits upon the command throne of his ship, and stares out past his men at the station in the distance.

Lord-Captain Alexei Zhukov, third son of three, stands from his command throne, and makes a sweeping gesture. Activity, save that of the most important duties, ceases on the bridge, and all eyes fix on him. He points to a single vox officer, and speaks calmly.

“Command crew to the briefing room. On the double. Gentlemen...we have arrived.”

The bridge crew immediately snap to salutes, roaring “Yes, sir!” and return to their duties, the one vox officer murmuring the arcane rituals of activation before speaking into the ship’s vox;

“Attention, attention; Angel of Vengeance command crew are to report to the briefing room on the double. Repeat, First Officer Leonidas Ferox, Master-At-Arms Garyn Saar, Enginseer Prime Ourus Mestillan, and Master Helmsman Alt Kiriel to the briefing room ASAP. That is all.”

Alexei nods his approval, then turns, the hem of his coat sweeping behind him. His boots thud onto the deckplates as he walks through an aged door, the machine spirit creaking and clanking as it struggles to open before him. Without a word, he steps through and into the room beyond, leaving the bridge crew to their duties as the ship slowly glides through the Void towards their destination.
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

02 Nov 2011, 00:09

Adjacent to the hangar bay and further amidships lie the barracks, where the Zukhov house troops, the Legion of Redemption, are garrisoned. Far more than a simple collection of sleeping quarters, the barracks on a massive ship such as this are more akin to a fully-equipped military base in its entirety, including an expansive training ground for marching drills and combat exercises. One such exercise is underway right now, overseen by Garyn Saar, the Master-at-Arms of the ship responsible for all the military and security endeavors the ship may undergo.

Clad in his black and white carapace armor, his officer's coat hanging from his shoulders, his steel-gray eyes observing the maneuvers of the troops from the network of scaffolding hanging from the ceiling far above, the grounds below reconfigured into a veritable maze of artificial trenches and dugouts to hone the troops trench fighting skills. To heighten the realism and improve the results of the exercise, he enlisted the ship's twistcatcher to round up a few hundred ghiliam from the vast ship's catacomb-like underdecks and set them loose in the trenches, then made it a live-fire exercise for the troops to systematically hunt down and exterminate the once-human vermin.

He also has made sure to have plenty of quartermasters waiting in the wings to provide medical assistance should any serious injuries occur. Much to his frustration, such 'accidents' are especially common among these Death Korps soldiers, due to the near-suicidal mentality the troops were instilled with that an isolated ship without the limitless reinforcements of the Imperial Guard to replace casualties cannot afford, so he has been doing his best to temper their tendency for self-sacrifice. Whether he is succeeding he has yet to determine.

When the call comes in for the command crew to report to the briefing room, he leaves oversight for the exercise in the hands of the next most senior officer on duty and makes his way to the express tram to the command decks. After several minutes on the high-speed tram, he reaches the briefing room, stepping in and standing at attention with his hands clasped behind his back. "Reporting in, Lord-Captain."
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

02 Nov 2011, 04:01

A good distance from the bridge, in a room of many, a figure watched from the corner, scanning for a fresh target. One out of many--one alone, not part of the Ecclesiarchy nor the Adeptus Mechanicus; and a fresh target--old ones simply will not do in such a case. The eye scanned, and scanned...a smile formed on the figure's face--it seemed that what was sought had become found...

Out of the entryway of the one of many mess halls walked a man of 5'9" height, lax posture and a generally wiry build--hidden underneath the Zhukov uniform which in turn was covered by an old tan cloak. His hair, black, straight, and long, tied back into a ponytail. Eyes, a dark green. His features, to many, would be considered pretty--to those particularly obsessed with all things pertaining to machismo, effete. Hanging from the left side of his belt was his personal firearm, a fairly worn-looking Ceres-pattern Bolt Pistol. On the other, what looked to be a power sword--referred to its owner as a "skeleton key"--and how he used it pretty much fit that; he didn't bother actually using it in melee combat too often, instead using it to open doors and other things that were either locked or jammed--given, it broke the door in the process, but he figured that didn't really matter. The sword and gun were completely undecorated past what was given in their stock design; a completely pragmatic matter, it would seem...

This man was the ship's Master Helmsman, Alt Kiriel. On his way to do what he did every now and then during the times where he really wasn't needed to do anything on- or off-deck; fraternizing with the women. Particularly the ones that were suitably attractive--though he tended to stay away from any that looked like they belonged to the Ecclesiarchy in particular; he tended to be a bit lacking in knowledge of the Imperial Cult to begin with, and he preferred not to be preached at. But the way he figured it, his time off of direct duty was his time off. He'd enjoy it how he wanted it, and furthermore, the current climate in this day and age tended to be unpleasant at best. He knew, after all--being a bounty hunter lets one see the worst of things at times. So why not show some of the others a good time as well? Could be their last, after all.

...naturally, his entry into the mess hall lasted all of five steps before the announcement called him to the deck. Alt looked up toward the ceiling, with a sigh. "You've got the worst timing, Lord-Captain." And with that, he did an about face and turned out of the mess hall, heading for the nearest tramway toward the bridge, hands in his pockets and cloak obscuring the black and gold longcoat that marked him as a high-ranking officer trailing behind him.

...hopefully the tram ride will go without a hitch, at least, he thought.
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

03 Nov 2011, 10:52

The engineering deck was the beating heart, nay, the soul of the great Angel and at it's center tending to a plasma conduit, murmuring an endless litany of the faith, was Explorator-magos Ourus Mestillan. Sparks flew as he applied a heat-welder to frayed circuitry, his free hand soothingly stroking the bulkhead he was knelt before.

"Fear not, I bring naught but healing to you Machine Spirit, the touch of this rejuvenating heat shall mend you and right your ways once again... Hear now the sacred prayer of Diagram 21.B which states that ancillary port A must run unimpeded to Ancillary Coupling A..."

And so he prayed. Slender hands, blessed with lines of electoos that converged into Imperial Aquila in the centers of his palms, worked tirelessly and exactly until he felt satisfied in standing from his work and bowing his head.

"Feel now the kiss of the Omnissiah and be right in soul once more, gentle machine."

It was just then that the vox called out his name and his title, Enginseer-Prime. He was needed on the bridge. He blew a sigh (an unnecessary action for someone with augmetic lungs and sleek, metal gill-like ports lining his graceful throat) and lowered his hood to reveal short, wild black hair dyed through with streaks of violet in a fairly popular modern fashion and unnaturally black eyes that whirred as augurs within them told Ourus not just what things looked like, but their composition, their electromagnetic aura, their life signs or lack thereof.

He still had work to do, but an order from the Lord-Captain was not to be ignored, he supposed. Not if he wanted to continue living such a comfortable life in blessed service. He signaled a few of the lessed enginseers to clean up after him and he swept down the corridor, his red robes billowing behind him in all their scarred and patched glory. The recent oblations to the Tram-spirits had gone very well, it would be a smooth ride to the bridge.
"ThE RIght man in the WRong place can make ALL the difFERence in the WORLD. Now... WAKE UP misTER Freeman. Wake up... and smell the ASHESS..." - The G-man, Half-life 2
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

03 Nov 2011, 16:40

In his private stateroom, there is a single circle of perfect cleanliness, a stark contrast against the rack and ruin that is the rest of the room. Wine bottles, many empty, lay on the floor intermingled with unworn clothing and empty plates. A pair of marked beauties lay, naked and exhausted, on the bed, just barely covered by the red silk of the sheets as Leonidas Ferox, last scion of the ancient and formerly honorable House Ferox, fences against his own shadow. He is a tall, well muscled man with a shock of spiky short brown hair, wearing a pair of black officer's trousers tucked neatly into a pair of high boots. The clean lines of his back are spoiled by a tattoo, red and black, of a lion, roaring under the Imperial Aquila.

Until, of course, the klaxon goes off. The two women awake lazily stretching as he snaps "Stay here and clean this place up" before sheathing his blade, grabbing his officer's coat from the chair on which it hangs, and dashing through the door still smelling of the alcohol he'd imbibed the night before.
 
kyriotsu
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

03 Nov 2011, 19:36

The briefing room was one of Alexei's few nods towards the popular perceptions of Rogue Traders, oddly enough. Despite the fact that he usually attempted to run his ship with almost military precision, and he had a tendency towards the austere (well, for a Lord-Captain...), there were some indulgences that made their appearances here and there. His command throne, for example, was a sterling piece of work, well-padded, elaborate, and with armrests of nigh-on obscene height.

The briefing room, for it's part, was built for a combination of comfort and function. The walls were covered in trophies and banners, assembled from the long and illustrious career of the Angel of Vengeance before all hell broke loose. The walls and ceiling were baroque and gothic, as everything in the Imperium generally looked, with a vaulted ceiling from which hung a great chandelier. In the centre of the room sat a huge circular table, carved from Tanithian nalwood and embossed with the sigils of the Imperium and House Zhukov. In the centre of the table was a fairly decent-quality holo-projector, although at the moment the only thing projected was a spinning aquila; it did blink in and out once or twice, but otherwise ran quite smoothly. Surrounding the table were an assortment of chairs, an exact matching set with the table; straight-backed, cushioned beyond all reasonable levels of plush, with the insignia of the House on the backs of them all, save one. That one had been a special request from the Lord-Captain, and on the back of it was a single insignia of red and black, a lion roaring underneath an aquila. The insignia of House Ferox.

Friends were a rare thing in the Imperium of Man, Alexei mused as he stepped back from a corner of the room; there sat a long table beside a hand-carved set of cabinets. On the table was an assortment of foodstuffs, fairly simple fare, a mix of rather nice assorted biscuits and pastries and a bowl of some caba nuts, one pot of recaf and one of tanna tea (ever since he'd picked a Valhallan as Bridge Chief, directly below Ferox, he'd acquired a taste for the stuff), and in the cabinets was an assortment of liquers and amasecs from all over the Imperium; at least, that which could be preserved and pinched from the spire back on Krieg under his brother's nose. As his command crew walked (or staggered, in Leo's case; he gave a somewhat stern look towards him) in, he greeted each of them with an inclined head, and let them take a glass or plate of their usual...whatevers they would have at the staff meetings, and took his own seat with a mixed mug of tanna tea and a high-quality amasec.

"Gentlemen, I hope the tram ride was pleasant; sit, please. Unless your eyes have ceased working in the minute or so it took you to cross the bridge, or your ears failed you en route, I think the reason for this meeting was obvious; we have arrived. Port Wander will be before us within the next hour or so it will take for this ship to coast in to dock. The Maw stands before us, gentlemen. And there is much that needs doing. First, however; reports. Master-At-Arms Saar, is the Legion ready for the journey into the Expanse? First Officer Ferox...two questions actually; did you pinch some of the Kayenian year 60 amasec from the cabinet? And how stand the officers on the voyage ahead? Master Helmsman Kiriel, you've got an ear to the lower decks; are the crew apprehensive, or eager? And Enginseer Prime Mestillian...how stands my ship? Will she survive the journey into the Expanse?"
Last edited by kyriotsu on 03 Dec 2011, 10:40, edited 4 times in total.
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

03 Nov 2011, 20:19

Garyn's posture relaxes somewhat as he's addressed. "Sir. Since I was assigned as Master-At-Arms, I've been performing inspections and running the troops through a battery of exercises to size them up, and the reputation that the soldiers of Krieg have for dedication and excellence is well-deserved. My only real concern is reigning in their willingness to sacrifice themselves to achieve their objectives. While their selflessness is admirable, it may become detrimental to the long-term cohesion and strength of the Legion without the Departmento Munitorum directly supplying them. I hope to impress that point into them and alter their tactical doctrine to minimize potential casualties."

He pulls out a data-slate and glances over it for a moment before continuing. "Otherwise, they are well-prepared for combat, but we are faced with some significant limitations." He sets the data-slate into a slot on the holo-projector and starts bringing up charts and lists of personnel and materiel. "The infantry battalions are at nearly full strength, and the Death Korps specialties of trench warfare and tunnel fighting should translate well to performing boarding actions and repelling the same in ship-to-ship combat. The 5th Airborne Battalion is also prepared for bombing and interceptor duty, and we should be able to quickly deploy troops to ground with the dropship company."

"Once they get there, though, the lack of armor and mechanized infantry support from the 3rd Armored Battalion would be detrimental to full-scale warfare, so planet-side operations will be limited. Directly engaging fully-supported military units would be disastrous, so we would be limited to indirect tactics, such as fast strikes via dropship against key strategic objectives or asymmetric 'guerilla' warfare. I believe addressing this limitation and bringing the 3rd Armored Battallion to full strength should be a high priority."
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

03 Nov 2011, 22:00

Alt's posture was loose to begin with as he entered the room. Once given the permission to sit, however, he wasted no time flopping into a grade-A slouch in the nearest accessible chair, ponytail draped over the back as he looked toward the Lord-Captain. "Eh, I must say the crew is unpredictable about it as usual. At the start of our trip there I'd say 10-90 eager to apprehensive. Most recently, seems more along the lines of 60-40, so more eager now at least." Of course, it wasn't his place to deliver punishment to anyone not directly under him, though there was that one who tried to escape some time back. "Of course, a few of them tried to shirk their duty, including someone whose pay is being suspended for the next few weeks."

He figured that killing people for acts of cowardice, disobeience, or other such things--the very thing a commissar was known for--was a bit excessive. Good crew members were hard to find in this day or age, doubly so when it comes to people in charge of making sure the ship gets to where it needs to go. Plus, it makes you hated, and that wasn't Alt's style at all. But sometimes discipline was necessary when people within your sphere of influence run off on their job, and from his position, Alt figured that the best things to do was give them the breach of contract treatment; no pay at all for the time being.

With the rather brief report finished, Alt grabbed a couple of biscuits--he'd been called away from the mess hall, and the trip simply made him hungrier, and started chowing down on them.

Naturally, his normal exploits aboard the ship were left out of the matter.
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

04 Nov 2011, 14:31

Leonidas coughs twice as he fishes out a beaten and worn data slate. Taking his spot at the table, he looks at Alexei and says, in a cultured accent, "Of course not dear boy. You know I'd tell you if I was going to do something like that." Turning his attention to the data slate in front of him, he scans it briefly before announcing "All the officers are ready, though as the Master-At-Arms said, the Krieg officers still seem to think that we are blessed with the infinite resources of the Imperial Guard and Administratum"

Re-pocketing the data slate, he sits into his chair, leaning back onto the rear legs and kicking his feet up. Going into a breast pocket, he withdraws a chased silver lighter and a lho-stick, and lights it. "That's all I have to report at this time sir"
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

07 Nov 2011, 18:31

The soft bend of flexsteel could be heard with each of Ourus' steps into the briefing room and he took his normal seat at the table with no fanfare or excess emotion. He had raised his hood once more for appearances, as important as those were to the crew, and as he took his seat he lowered the cloth again to reveal that surprisingly striking face of his, so unlike so many AdMechs. Of course he found his looks tended to smooth things over when dealing with, well, regular people and his station could get him far with the more suspicious techpriests he was forced to work with.

He held out a hand and Servoskull 113 brought him a dataslate upon which were encoded litanies to the Machine God, specifically the reports that primary systems and all associated subroutines were at optimal efficiency. Good. The Angel did have a fine, fine crew and Ourus took a modicum of pride in his organization of her enginseers. Each an organelle that kept the lightning of her blood pumping smoothly and every joint and bone well oiled and firmly set.

"Her Spirit and Chassis are both willing, Lord Captain. I believe she is as eager to venture forth as we, if not moreso. Do not fret, she will fulfill her purpose as I fulfill mine and you yours. Though I have an ancillary report: The Nova Cannon's ammunition stores are insufficient for prolonged usage, I doubt we can fire the main weapon more than 4 times. We may wish to look into purchasing a new loadout soon. The Machine God and Emperor are with us, though, for all reports on the status of our fine vessal are perfectly clean otherwise. A fine omen to begin our voyage."

He nods.
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kyriotsu
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

07 Nov 2011, 20:57

Zhukov took a long draught from his mug, and nodded; looking quite satisfied. For a moment, he leaned back and let silence reign (as much silence as could be found on an Imperium vessel; there was always something clanking or grinding somewhere...), before addressing each of his command crew in turn.

"Auspicious indeed. Master Saar, it is more than likely we will end up supplementing our primary forces with mercenaries or irregulars, although we may, on occasion, be graced with reinforcements through my brother Vasily's contacts. So far as I can tell, however, your progress has been superlative. Make a note; I'll be making a personal inspection of the regiments before the week is out. As for the armored battalion, we will have to trust in the Emperor and our enginseers to put together what little we have already. Supplements may come in time, but for now you'll have to work with what we have."

Another draught, and he turned to the Master Helmsman, giving him a rather flat look at his deliberate flouting of protocol. Still, the man was a remarkable pilot, both for the magnificent vessel they stood in, and for any smaller craft that they had in the bays (though, in Alexei's opinion, he still thought Kiriel flew like a madman).

"Pay suspension will be the least of their worries if those actions continue. I deplore cowardice, sir; and where we're headed any insubordination or shirking of duties could quite easily spell disaster. Keep a close watch, Alt; if further shirking continues, I'll have the provosts come down hard."

He didn't believe for a minute that Ferox hadn't been at the good amasec, though technically speaking quite a bit of it had come from his House's resevoirs, so he supposed he couldn't complain. Well, not vocally, at any rate. The flat look he gave Leonidas, particularly over the use of the term "dear boy", was quite familiar to all of them; Leonidas in particular had no-doubt seen it many, many times indeed.

"The officers were hand-picked; but it is gratifying to hear they aren't openly plotting mutiny. Ferox, co-ordinate efforts with Saar, between the bridge officers and the regimental officers we've got a shipful of potential martyrs, and I want that dealt with; not that I mind having a bolt taken for me, but overzealous recklessness is quite another thing entirely."

He ruminated for a moment again before nodding at the Magos-Explorator, abruptly standing and walking over to the table for a refill of tea and amasec. As he did so, he spoke slowly and carefully; ensuring his words were not missed.

"Your reports cheer me, at least to some levels; with the Maw in sight I expect no shortage of cold feet from many of the crew. The trick there being, of course, ensuring the vast majority keep pushing forward to keep the shirker's feet warm. Heh. Either way; now that that's out of the way, however, to the more pressing matter at hand; our buisness at Port Wander."

The Lord-Captain took out a data-slate from his own coat and plugged it into the slot on the grand table linked to the holo-projector; two faces, somewhat blurry due to the projector, but fairly recognizeable appeared. He pointed to the one on the left, a fairly attractive lady's face, yet rather eerie; it might've been a trick of the holo-projector, or perhaps the light in the room, but for some reason it seemed she had pitch-black eyes!

"Lady Dominique Aestra Vor-cle; Navigatrix and scion of House Vor-cle. She's the first of two individuals we're meeting here. Before the House essentially collapsed, my father had worked out a new contract with the Navis Nobilae, for the purposes of fitting an exploratory fleet; destination naturally being the Koronus Expanse. Unfortunately, as you all know, things went...essentially south. Lady Dominique here was to be assigned as Warp Guide and Chief Navigatrix to this vessel; fortunately since this ship is still, to all intents and purposes, the Grand Fleet of Zhukov, the contract still holds; albeit in a far more trimmed-down fashion. So far as we can tell, she's a sterling example of her House; while I'm perfectly willing to trust our own Navigators puttering around the more...civilized portions of the Imperium, Lady Vor-cle here is far more suited to the longer-range exploration and riskier endeavors we will be conducting. To wit, a shuttle bearing her person will be meeting us during the drift to Port Wander; about a half-hour, perhaps less. Master Saar, I'll be meeting her in person, please detach a squad...hmm...make that two squads of Legion personnel for an adequate honor guard if you please. Perhaps two of the more spectacularly-performing ones from this morning's drills."

The Lady Dominique's head vanished, being replaced with a far less pleasing sight; a grizzled old man, with a ratty beard, scarred and bald head, and a bionic eye. The unmoving face scowled down at all present, and Zhukov gestured at it with his mug.

"And here's our second part of buisness; namely that which caused us to set a course for the Koronus Expanse, as opposed to any other pissant backwater uncharted sector of the galaxy. According to old logs, his name is Orbest Dray; records, particularly old ones, and his own testimony place him as a crew member on my great-grandfather Dimitri Zhukov's flagship, during the House's initial exploration into the Koronus Expanse. The message didn't reach the Angel until we'd nearly finished the refits, and it was logged away, really, as a joke...but at the moment, we really can't afford to take anything for granted. According to Dray, he has information. Information and a gift, from my ancestor. He would not say more over vox, for fear of, as he put it, 'interlopers seeking to deny the House their rightful boon'. While I deplore his appearance, one can't fault his loyalty. In short, once we arrive and settle those last few accounts, supplies and what-not, we will also be paying Orbest Dray a visit. If he is telling the truth, we might have something to search for in this Emperor-forsaken expanse of void instead of simple salvage or lost colonies. If he lies, I swear to Holy Terra I'll have him lashed to the hull during the trip through the Maw! Any questions?"
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

07 Nov 2011, 21:15

Garyn gives a lazy salute. "Sir, yes sir. I'll coordinate with First Officer Ferox and make sure the officers are up to date with the new tactical doctrines we'll be implementing to prevent unnecessary casualties. I'll also tell the Chief Bosun to have his men keep an eye on the... less enthusiastic ratings Mister Kiriel spoke of, especially while we're docked at Port Wander. Don't want any of them jumping ship. I'll also go through the results of the Legion's shakedown exercises and assign the most promising ones to the High Command Guard for an escort while we're in port."
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

07 Nov 2011, 21:58

"Roger that, old chap. We'll fix their thinking right off" Ferox smiles lazily, keeping a hand in one pocket. Turning his head, he nods to Garyn. "Drop by my quarters after this brief and we'll discuss our plan of attack, so to speak."

"Will that be all? I have other duties I must be attending to, inspections to make and all that rubbish." With that he stands, one hand still in his pocket, and walks out of the room.
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

07 Nov 2011, 23:00

Alt thought over the briefing that Zhukov gave, paying note to the--what would be rather beautiful woman if it weren't for those creepy, completely black eyes, before listening to the rest of the briefing. With a mental eyeroll as Saar and Ferox discussed sending the Chief Bosun over to likely browbeat the crap out of crew members for being anxious more than eager; sure, anxious crew can be a problem, and mutinies are always an issue, but one'd want loyalty, not fear. No matter, what's done is done, and there are more important matters to be dealt with...

"Yeah, Lord-Captain, one question here--well, one that I'd rather have answered now. I'll figure the others out given due time. Are we going dockside in combat gear or our official getups to find Dray?" He kept his slouch the entire time, chomping into a third biscuit.
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

08 Nov 2011, 04:03

A sudden unexpected knock on the door to the briefing room was followed by the face of a rather flustered junior lieutenant.
Clearly none of his superiors had wanted the job and so he'd ended up with having to interupt.

"My apologies for the interuption Lord-Captain, but we have an incommeing transmission from an approaching small-craft sir. They are asking for you by name sir. Also, there seems to be a request for permission to come aboard, sir?"

Clearly none of his superiors had wanted the job and so he'd ended up with the unpleasant duty.
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

08 Nov 2011, 18:23

Hmmm, a member of the Navis Nobilite. Navigator, stable mutant strain. How fascinating. Ourus' own forays into medical science and stable biological diversity (as opposed to random, chaos-cursed mutations) had been increasing as of late as his interest in the works of the Adeptus Mechanicus Genetors intensified. To have an example of such an important strain of mutation aboard would be most fortuitous.

But his mind wandered.

He turned his attention to the lord-captain.

"His demand for such secrecy is... suspicious captain. Could this not be a trap?"

Then the young officer came in, distracting him again.
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

09 Nov 2011, 11:51

"First Officer Ferox, you will remain in this briefing room until you are dismissed, are we clear?"

Alexei's voice rang out sharply as Leonidas stepped towards the door; although his expression didn't change a jot. For all that Ferox was an old friend of his, there was certain protocol to be maintained; at this moment, he was the Lord-Captain speaking to the First Officer. Though he made a mental note to speak with Leo afterwards; the man was a fine officer, despite his flaws. Speaking of which...Alexei kept a straight posture in his seat, sipping from his mug thoughtfully. Kiriel had asked a good question, and he weighed his thoughts carefully.

"Both, I think. Greatcoats and uniforms, with weapons worn openly; perhaps even a full troop of armsmen accompanying us. We want pomp and bombast, put on a show for the masses. We need an appearance of power, look worthy of respect and attention. Put any Rogue Traders besides ourselves on watch, that we're still open for buisness despite the House's...situation; also that we have the capacity to easily flatten whoever dares to take a shot at the Angel. Admittedly, our capacity to do the aforementioned flattening is somewhat reduced, but Rogue Traders live and die by their appearances. So yes, my personal inclination is full uniform and kit for the meeting, and we arrive with as much pomp and circumstance as possible; I am, however, indeed open to suggestions if you think otherwise."

He drained his mug and slammed it onto the nalwood table, with a twist to his mouth that bespoke frustration; it was a rare look for the Lord-Captain, and it passed swiftly. Instead he turned his head to Ourus, and smiled wryly.

"I assume everything is a trap, master enginseer; but our options are limited at this point. I don't intend to go in half-cocked, however; and I have every confidence in our little group's...unique skillset. Another reason I'm leaning more toward full combat readiness during our st-"

At that point, the young officer walked in, and Zhukov turned a piercing gaze onto the young man; he hated interruptions. Upon hearing him speak, however, the gaze shifted to a somewhat less intimidating one, and he stood to his feet swiftly. Walking over to the junior lieutenant without preamble, he took the dataslate from his hands and raked his eyes over it, then nodded and thrust it back into his hands.

"It appears this meeting will have to be tabled, gentlemen. Our Navigatrix has arrived earlier than expected."

A quick-step and he was back by his chair, sweeping up his notorious hat and clapping it to his head. He pointed at each of the command crew in turn, doling out orders quickly. There wasn't a moment to lose!

"Master Saar, it appears we do not have time to dally; I require those squads at the docking bay within ten minutes, full readiness and dress uniforms, make it so. Enginseer, the starboard docking bay must be cleared and prepared for a new shuttle immediately, see to it personally. Master Kiriel, assemble an escort wing from Aeronautics to bring the shuttle safely into dock. Ferox, you're with me; once those squads arrived at the bay, I want them in formation and presentable as soon as possible. Everyone, once your duties are completed, you are to attend her arrival alongside myself in the docking bay; it appears she will be meeting more of my officers than initially thought. Dismissed!"

((This will be the only OOC post I will ever make in an IC game thread; just to be clear - rolls are to be made in the OOC thread, using this elegant and finely-crafted link! Get to it, gents!))
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

09 Nov 2011, 12:25

Ourus would feel better about marching to meet this man with his hellgun strapped to his back. He bowed to his Lord-Captain and strode out, red robes streaming behind him as he headed out to clear the landing deck of enough space. Currently it was strewn with the Angelus' smallcraft and not exactly fit for company. He strode to a command console and intoned the proper incantations of activation.

"Machine Spirit, vox-cast to all on-hand servitors and tech-priests. We who serve the Emperor and Machine-God beseech you."

He waited for the indicator to come up before speaking in his warm, smooth monotone.

"All hands, clear the deck for arrival of our guests. Leave one wing of Furies out for master Kiriel. All other vehicles must be in their assigned storage spaces posthaste."

And Ourus watched with satisfaction as his order was carried out with utmost efficiency. Ahhh, efficiency. Such a wonderful blessing from the Omnissiah.
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

09 Nov 2011, 15:49

Garyn gives another salute, then turns on his heel and heads out the door to take another tram ride back to the barracks. As he does he pulls out his dataslate and gets updated on the results of the exercises. After going over the reports, he decides to draw the honor guard from the 17th Platoon of the 1st Guard Battallion, who performed admirably in their run of the trenches, but more importantly did so without suffering any major injuries. He calls ahead on the ship's intervox to have the first and second squads of the platoon lined up in the mission briefing room, before going back to awaiting his arrival at the barracks while mulling over the meeting and what to say to the troops when he arrives.

A few minutes later, he sweeps the door to the briefing room open and strides to stand in front of the twenty men assembled before him, noting the pale, gaunt faces typical of the subterranean-born and raised Krieg men and how their almost sickly pallor belied their unwavering will and endurance. There was a lot to respect about the Death Korps, even above that deserved by any man or woman willing to stand on the front lines in the Imperial Guard against the horrors of the galaxy, something which he found even more impressive for a mortal man to do than for the heroes of his homeworld of Macragge.

He clasps his hands behind his back, and hardens his gaze as he looks at the soldiers. "Alright, Korpses, listen up! Your platoon managed to clean out the trenches without trying to get yourselves killed, which for Kriegsmen is an accomplishment. In recognition of your ability to recognize the difference between devotion and suicide, you'll be accompanying me, as well as the Lord-Captain himself, on an away mission." He brings his hands out and jabs his finger out at the troops. "Do NOT fuck this up. We're heading into Port Wander, and more than one rival house may be berthed here as well and could think this an opportunity to put the final nail in House Zukhov's coffin and take a shot at the captain. But we're not going to hide from them. That would only prove them right. We'll be marching through in full war regalia, to show our enemies that we are still strong, down to the last man!"

He clenches his pointing hand into a fist. "Now, I want you all fully geared up in dress uniforms and assembled in the launch bay in five minutes. It is for missions like THIS that you need to be ready to give up your life for, not just to put down a few mutant underdeck vermin. Now masks on! Rifles up! Do not fear death, fear that you die with your work incomplete! DISMISSED!" He sweeps his hand towards the door, and watches with his steely gaze as the squads march out to prepare, before going to gather his own armaments and make his way to the launch bay as well.
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

09 Nov 2011, 16:02

Leonidas, impeccably turned out in his own uniform... and with a shirt on, prowls up and down the ranks, inspecting the Krieger's uniforms for the slightest error and quizzing them on the sequence of events that will be happening upon the Lady's arrival. In the units that he is not personally inspecting, other members of his crew are inspecting as well, each one referring to the Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer as they do so. Eventually, the inspections have been completed, and the gear is ready. Standing in front of the massed ranks, Leonidas begins to rehearse the men, making them practice the precise steps and timing of what they shall be doing during the ceremony. Harsh lighting gleams off the spotless ironwork and freshly-cleaned and pressed greatcoats of the men until finally, All is ready and Leonidas sets the men to At Ease.
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

09 Nov 2011, 21:26

Alt nodded in affirmation to the Lord-Captain, before pushing up and flinging himself out of the seat, headed for the nearest Vox-station--a call had to be made.

And as such, Alt's...surprisingly cheerful voice filled the ship. "Attention, Dominion Wing! This is the Master Helmsman speaking, we're needed in Hangar two immediately for a scramble escort mission! Drop what you're doing within reasonable safety limitations and report immediately~! All relevant teams, be ready to facilitate a takeoff! Thank you, and see you there!" Of course, they knew what'd happen if they didn't show up. First their pay, then the unpaid double-shifts. It wasn't flogging, but at least that ends quickly and only hurts afterwards...

And with that, Alt dashed to the nearest changing room to get suited up first, then the first tram headed for the hangars, and finally the lift down to Hangar Two; the ride took a while, but given that it was the starboard docking bay for the Furies in question, it was to be expected. Next to him on the lift stood someone who looked merely seventeen years old--when he noticed Alt was standing next to him, and immediately turned and saluted with a "Sir!"

"Oi, didn't I tell you that you didn't have to be formal when out of sight of the LC and Bosun, Tris?" Alt replied. Tristan was one of the four in Dominion Wing; afflicted with a case of being babyfaced--he was actually twenty-three--his small stature and short-cut blonde hair didn't help the young pilot one bit, and has lended him a tendency to try and overcompensate in anything he does--part of what managed to get him in Dominion Wing, flying alongside Alt. Dominion Wing, officially Bravo Wing, also unofficially "Those Crazyasses", being the specific group of four that Alt flew with--it was his idea to begin with, taking the fighter pilots there that were too crazy and reckless for the others to deal with but still good, and putting them together under his command. It was mainly accepted by the others in charge of Aeronautica mainly because it got them off of their hands and helped with the drills. They came off as a polar opposite to the Seraphim, or Alpha, Wing in particular, who were very effective, but a lot less crazy. There were also Cherubim Wing (Charlie), Throne Wing (Echo), and Power Wing(Delta) of the entire fighter squad...

The lift came to a stop, and the two stepped into Hangar Two; the place was, needless to say, vast, not unlike the others, but due to the current rush for a takeoff it was packed with all sorts of personnel and technicians doing last-minute checks on everything, though in that chaos one could easily miss the discarded food wrappers and drink containers strewn about. And in front of the lift exit stood three more people geared up to pilot. One of them, a rather intense-looking woman with tanned skin and short-cut brown hair, shouted out. "Hey, Alt! After all that spouting, you're late?!" The other two, a large and rugged-looking man with dirty blonde hair and a similarly tanned-looking man with black hair and a slightly crazed look in his eyes, stood nearby, the former looking impatient; not that it was surprising given that he was a deathworlder--when sanity wasn't in short supply, patience was. The other two supposedly drifted in from a Frontier World, though some doubt that claim.

"Hey, you try suiting up and then heading here from the meeting room. Anyway, we all here? Good. Head for your Furies and get on squad frequency! We launch the second we get the OK!" Alt replied. A chorus of "Got it!", "Roger!", and "Right!", one followed with a "...sir!" "...What'd I tell you, Tris?" followed, and the five split up and headed for their interceptors--Alt to his own, which had the emblem of a rose on one side. Less than a minute afterward, and the techs were already on their way out.

"Alt, ready for takeoff!" the Master Helmsman called over the vox.
"Griffin, ready!" the large man's voice could be heard.
"Burn, ready!" another voice--belonging to the supposed frontier-worlder.
"Ran, ready!" shouted the voice of the only woman in the group.
"Tristan ready, sir!" ...Tristan still couldn't break that habit he developed from growing up amidst the Battlefleet.

And the five interceptors moved to take off, four of them taking off readily while one's engine sputtered a bit, moving slowly and a bit erratically...

"Ah, hell!" Alt shouted at the controls, jerking the control stick to make the ship move, before tapping below the dash with his foot a few times, prior to a hard knock with his foot. Instantly, the interceptor took off as Alt slammed back into his seat from the G-forces, and hit the thrusters to catch up with the rest. It was something he applied with what he learned from his life on a Forgeworld; a form of precise percussive maintenance intended to get the machine spirits back under control, usually applied with guns but a bit less reliable here--this time it worked.

"Oi, Alt! The hell you doin' back there?!" Griffin called over the vox.

"Machine spirit was acting a bit chunky." Alt replied. "Anyway, let's get this mission done with. We've got an incoming shuttle that needs escort with a lady aboard, so let's go with formations A-2 incoming and E-1 bringing it in. And remember, we're Dominion Wing, not Seraphim Wing, let's give a good show of it!"

"Roger!"
"...sir!"
And a sigh followed, as the five interceptors approached the incoming shuttle, spiralling inwards toward it...
Last edited by Namagomi on 15 Nov 2011, 08:06, edited 1 time in total.
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

15 Nov 2011, 04:17

The aquila moved carefully into the indicated launch bay and set down carefully.
A few seconds passed before anything further happened, then the pressure seal was lifted and the doors opened.
A second passed, then a single person emerged from the aquila.
A woman, probably young though it is hard to tell exactly, dressed in the extensive multilayered crimson-and-gold robes of house Vor-cle.

For all the colour of her clothes, what caught the attention of all onlookers though, were the eyes.
There were 3 of them - the central one closed ofcourse, and both of the visible ones large and round, as well as utterly black, with appearantly no light escaping or reflecting at all.

Moving down the gangplank like she was gliding, she came to rest before the captain and his closest officers.
Dropping a slight courtsy, she speaks with a honeyed voice
"m'Lord Captain. I undestand my uncle has desired to leave your service on this glorious ship for medical reasons. However it would never do to leave a house like the Zhukovs without our services and so I am here to take up the contract, as I understand has been arranged."
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

16 Nov 2011, 10:03

As the Aquila landed in the docking bay, the ten House Zhukov soldiers swiftly took up positioning on either side, forming a small corridor from the lander's exit ramp to the head of the House himself. The efforts of the Master-At-Arms and First Officer had paid off excellently; their helmets and masked positively gleamed, and despite the haste with which they had arrived, it had not detracted one jot from their appearance and preparation; Saar had chosen these troops well indeed. The Lord-Captain, for his part, stood flanked on either side by his personal Command Crew (though Kiriel had to scramble a bit once the escort fighters had landed with the Aquila). The gas masked faces of the Kriegan soldiers remained almost intimidatingly impassive as the Navigatrix passed, and at a surreptitious gesture from the Lord-Captain they lifted their lasguns and snapped to a salute of bone-cracking precision. Zhukov nodded, and bowed politely in return to the ship's newest crew member, doffing his hat as he did so.

"It is an honor to have such an enchanting member of the Nobilis on board my vessel, Lady Vor-cle. Your uncle served the House, my grandfather, and my teacher exceedingly well, and I look forward to the same profitable relationship with your family in the future. If you'll permit me..."

He gestured for the four men beside him to introduce themselves, stepping back slightly.

"These men are my personal advisors and command crew, and the individuals to whom you will be liasing with during your duties."
 
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

16 Nov 2011, 18:47

With the efficiency of his crew Ourus found he had plenty of time to get down to the deck to greet their new arrival, lining up with the Lord-Captain and the other officers. He hadn't been expecting mutation quite so... extensive and he was taken aback slightly, but hid it well behind the veneer of usual nonchalance a Techpriest was expected to have. He bowed lightly and introduced himself first.

"I am Explorator Magos Ourus Mestillan, Enginseer Prime of the Angelus. It is my pleasure to make your acquaintance."
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Re: [Rogue Trader - IC] Ambition, Under An Angel's Wings.

16 Nov 2011, 19:07

Alt had to hurry to get in proper formation once landed--almost didn't make it due to the landing time and formation rearrangement, and it showed. So very much.

Needless to say, he had his helmet in one hand, hair helmet-mussed, but that didn't stop him from standing alongside the rest. Holding back that feeling of awkwardness and being slightly creeped out by the empty black eyes the Navigatrix had, Alt then brushed that (and some hair that got in his face) aside to give his best smile and introduce himself on cue.

"Hey. Name's Alt, Master Helmsman here. Looking forward to working with you in the future."

Even when introducing himself, his lack of ability to give a damn about protocol is ever-pervasive, it seems.

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