The Halls of Gold could not have been more aptly named. This sector of Port Wander was paved with shimmering gold, and ornate sculptures gazed down upon those who passed within it, headed by a statue of Saint Drusus, chainsword in one hand and a standard in the other, the pose he was commonly depicted as holding after the Triumph of Fenksworld.

Visible down the doors off to either side, hundreds of scribes pored over the countless transactions, and made sure that the river of gold and throne gelt continued to flow smoothly though this place.

This was not extravagance, it was a necessary expenditure, all designed with one purpose--to drive home the utter financial superiority of House Krin, one of the greatest merchant houses of the Calixis Sector. We buy and sell stars. It was a message to Rogue Traders that here was someone they could not overawe with money and influence.

This hall was not a battlefield, nor was it some unexplored frontier. But it was still a place where the fate of countless lives in the Calixis Sector and beyond were decided, and where Rogue Trader Dynasties had died, drowning pitifully in their own debt, dismantled and repossessed in a fate far less glamorous than mortal battle with Orks or vanishing into the Rifts of Hecaton....but no less final.

The Faye dynasty had learned this lesson the hard way. Over forty years before the birth of the Warrant's current holder, the first of many bad debts and late payments had cost them a star system and a profitable promethium harvesting colony. But now, after a long and painful decline, there was a chance to regain at least some of what they had lost.

Or vanish forever into the void.
This message was last edited by the GM at 20:10, Wed 15 Dec 2021.

Some said Pultarch Norn, representative of House Krin aboard Port Wander, could be replaced with a dessicated Egarian mummy, and it would be months before anyone noticed. Others said this had already happened.

He sat behind his desk, his austere black-clad appearance in utter contrast to his opulent surroundings. Again, it was a message--showing off was over, now it was time for business. With a hawk-like nose, a bald head and long, spider-like fingers that curled around each other in patterns that were almost hypnotic, the bureaucrat regarded everyone who came into his office with a kind of measured, very polite contempt. Some said that if Abaddon the Despoiler were to walk into his office without an appointment, he would be told to take a seat.

You would have to be a master of reading people to notice even the faintest hint of displeasure in his posture, but he was called upon today to do something that sat very ill with him.

Namely, ask for assistance.

"They may enter." he said, and his assistant nodded and opened the doors. Curious about what the Faye dynasty could now muster, he watched and assessed each individual in Lady Odette's party as they came through the door.

This was it. All roads had led to this point, a nexus event that would determine the course of the future. In these halls and in this time, the fate of her family would be decided and the Faye dynasty would either rise from the ashes to be greater than ever before.

Or they would vanish without a flicker, forgotten and ignorable in their end.

But that thought implied the outcome was in the hands of fickle fate, and Odette refused to accept it. She walked with her head held high and resolve in her bearing. Her attire was elegant, but not excessive, and a tiara perched on her head, narrow enough to not be vulgar but there to provide an additional nod to the still remaining strength of her dynasty and its holdings.

She inclined her head to Pultarch Norn, offering a polite smile with just a hint of friendliness to it, even if it was feigned. "A pleasure, I'm sure." She offered an incline of her head. "And thank you for meeting with us. I am hopeful we can help one another."

morton Crow followed just behind Mistress Faye slightly to the left and a few steps to the rear. His immaculate black long coat with silver trim reflected the lights in the corridors they walked through.

His well trimmed jet black facial hair gave his features even more of an angled appearance, like a bird of prey waiting for the right moment to strike. It looked even blacker against his pale skin, which along with his light grey orbs for his eyes marked him out as a navigator and one that was touched by the warp.

This was even more so in his case, the Name crow was infamous in the myths of navigators, corrupted and cursed by the warp and those that lived in the dark recesses between planets it had taken many many centuries for the descendants to craw back even a little of what the family reputation was before their fall.

now one of the blood cursed was walking through the halls of a distinguished family following the following one of its own as her navigator. it raised eye brows definitely but Morton paid little heed he kept pace with the woman in front of him the only sound the click of his walking stick against the polished stone floor which brought attention to his slight limp, the mark of the curse upon his body.

Behind them both came the muffled tap of a second stick, its bearer wearing a slight smile at the sight they must collectively present. Clean-shaven, with sparkling blue eyes that would hold sway in most rooms, Vorn's voluminous cerulean robes masked the injuries that required the ebon-hafted and horn-tipped cane he bore, whilst the flapping ribbons of parchment - spider-scrawled with the ink of a hundred shrines - masked the sound.

Besides his robes and seals, Aurelius was bare-headed, his features aquiline and proud and his short dark hair slick with perfumed oils. At his side, hung a well-worn copy of the Book of Atticus, filled with ribbons marking key verses and songs of the faith. Upon his chest, a holy rosarius, bronze-bedecked and heavy. And from his waist, a chain of trinkets, relics - most prominently those pertaining to Drusus and Asceline - and thirty-six navy dog tags.

Like Morton, he remained silent, knowing his moment was not now. Instead, he listened, his attention focused on the interplay between Norn and the Lady Odette. Reading people was his skill, swaying them to the faith ... or to the Lady Odette's whim.

 There is a faint sound of metal slithering over metal that occurs when Explorator Tesla walks, a soft mechanical noise of aspiration when he breathes but other than that the tall, gaunt, red-robed figure of the Explorator makes little noise as he brings up the rear of the group, brass mechandrites sinuously moving in time to the flowing, mechanical gait that makes him seem to ghost along on wheels rather than legs - a common affectation of the Adeptus Mechanicus, even when they're still operating on their original limbs.

 If Aurelius can be said to be aquiline, then there's little left to say about what part of Tesla's face is visible under his hood, a brass faceplate with an Aquila-beak and a voder grill beneath giving no clue as to the expression - if indeed he still has one - beneath, the mechanistic outline and fine-detailed engraving of machinery giving him something of the impression of a lecturn or shrine-guardian of the Omnissiah in his manifestation of the God-Emperor of Mankind.

 For his part however, beyond those sounds he remains silent and attentive - it is not, after all his place to interject until called upon.

"I am sure we can." replied the bureaucrat with a nod. If he was impressed or disappointed, both verdicts were equally unreadable. Courtesies done, he settle back behind his desk, lifting a hand to take a slate from a servo-skull that whirred across the room.

"Now then, I will not waste your time, Lady Faye." he said. "And get directly to the point. This concerns the planet of Gallicinae Prime, a highly valuable asset that belonged to your ancestor Lord Wolfgang Faye. We took possession of it as part of a....business agreement." he said, any diplomacy in his choice of words undermined by the way his mouth curled at the corners.

"However, of late we have encountered....difficulties. Nine months ago, we lost all communication with the colony, and it falls to me to protect our investment. Xenos attack seems unlikely, given the lack of warning, but the true cause of the fall cannot be guessed at. We are quite reluctant to abandon such a lucrative prospect, and would be prepared to evenly share the profits were it to be properly reclaimed in reasonably good order, and the cause of the disruption, whatever it may be, addressed."

Copies of the data were supplied by the skull to Odette and her senior officers, so they could contemplate what Pultarch was saying...and what he was not saying. The location, in the Foundling Worlds, was notoriously perilous, an ill-omened region of space of which it was said that any venture started there would inevitably come to ruin.

And yet....those numbers were tempting.

Morton listened to the conversation as soon as Gallicinae was mentioned his mind touched the warp gently caressing it as his unique ability started to work out a route through the darkness ready for the order once they were back on the ship

"And, umm...", ventured Aurelius carefully, offering the hint of a smile to the Pultarch, "How was communication maintained prior, bless the Emporer's Light? Astropath? Couriers? Trade and tribute..."

His eyes flickered over the data slate provided by servo-skull, his eyebrows raised at the material concerning the Drusian colony, but for now, he said nothing.

"The four Astropaths stationed there simply ceased contact, without even the faintest of warnings. Normally, they are a reliable method of alerting us to any danger, if a touch prone to dramatics." said Norn. "There was one time when one of our subsiduaries sent a message about red fangs in the sky and a dark-eyed moon coming to devour them....and then it simply turned out they had consumed certain exotic mushrooms native to the planet, and everything was fine.

"Normally, transport vessels were sent in to recover the finished products for shipping. There were three in-system at the time of the blackout, and we have not heard from them since. The most recent cargo ship to come from there reported nothing new, save for reports of some peculiar sensor echoes around the colonies, which could be an indicator of something strange, or entirely coincidence."
This message was last edited by the player at 17:53, Sat 18 Dec 2021.

Odette's mouth twitched slightly in distaste at the mention of how the dynasty had been forced to give up assets to try and meet its debts, a piecemeal stripping of its influence and fortune. And the family's decision to establish one in such a dangerous part of space.. that in itself added a great deal of uncertainty. Listening to the points raised about the Astropaths and missing transports she nodded once before speaking up.

"This is a most generous offer." She mused, considering the data slate. "I am curious though, as to the coverage of 'properly reclaimed'. You would be asking for our assistance with any needed repairs or restoration to the colony, mining station and ships?"
This message was last edited by the player at 08:24, Sun 19 Dec 2021.

Aurelius raised a well-manicured eyebrow at the sensor echoes observation, but held his tongue whilst the Lady-Captain asked her own questions

Norn nodded at Odette's question.

"Well, that will depend upon the condition they are retrieved in. If there is nothing left to recover....then we simply part ways with no financial commitment. Tragic, but understandable. Any reconstruction costs otherwise will be covered by us, save if they could reasonably be avoided."

"The most important thing is that the refinery be preserved. Even if it has entirely ceased production, the value of the promethium stored there will be rivalled only by its volatility. The colonies and the population are eminantly replaceable."
This message was last edited by the player at 18:14, Sat 18 Dec 2021.

 "Astropathic communication is inherently of low bandwidth and susceptible to changing local conditions, but due to the amount of time necessary for a vessel to move from the Mandeville Point to weapons range it is unlikely that a large-scale incursion could be responsible for the disruption." Explorator Tesla states flatly, having spent some moments calculating the relative distances involves "Conversely, a local disruption to the planet itself would not have been capable of interdicting three freighters, although it is possible that they could have left the system at non-optimal locations and still be in transit."

 His tone is metallic, but pleasantly resonant as though tuned to cut through engine noise and chanting and he concludes his line of thinking by observing "This restricts the possibility space of incidents to an incursion by forces able to avoid the restrictions upon orthodox void travel, an organised infiltration of the facility ahead of a large-scale assault by vessels able to intercept the freighters or - at a lower possibility - a large-scale subversion of the facility from within which was able to sabotage or delay the missing transports. Of these instances, only the second represents a significant danger to our established resources. It is likely that we have the means to complete the task ahead of us."

"Mm." Odette tapped fingernails against the desk in thought as Jak offered his analysis. "Pultach Norn, kindly make data on those sensor echoes available to my colleague, so he an factor them into his evaluations." She nodded at Jak, silent a moment before speaking up again. "It's likely a small force could capture this place. Or it might not be an attack of all but an accident, or something natural. Albeit, it's unlikely either of those events could silence the Astropaths and trap or destroy the transports before they could respond."

She nodded again, and while she was sure there was a catch in all this due to how overtly generous the offer was, beggars couldn't be choosers.

"Please let me see the offered contract for this arrangement then." A pause. "One more thing. I wish for a provision to be added, that the dynasty has the ability to take over management of the colony if we so choose, provided it still exists, of course. If we do so the colony will continue to produce to your specifications and we will waive rights if it falls below that level. In short, I am offering to take the colony off your hands, while still ensuring you profit from it at expected levels."

"Subversion", echoed Aurelius when his mistress had finished speaking, though his voice was soft, "And with the Drusian sculptors performing their holy work close by... for a time?"

Glancing once more at the data slates, he shrugged and once the Pultarch had answered voiced his own question, "Do we have any more information on the colony on Gallicinae Epsilon? I would like to dig into souls with the Ecclesiarchy before we voyage."

Beneath his breath, he offered a blessing to Saint Aceline and scrawled a brief note on a rolled scrap of parchment he carried besides many others in a pouch tucked beneath his robes: to speak to the Lady-Captain about inquiries to the Battlefleet on the state of local patrols.

"That is acceptable." replied Norn to Odette after a moment's calculation. "Of course, the debts still exist, and we will continue to pay for them out of the profits from this site. If there are any disruptions....well, you are not the only Rogue Trader that owes us favours."

He left the warning implicit for a moment before continuing.

"We suspected much the same, but it is impossible to tell. Superstition says any enterprise in that region is doomed to disaster, but you seem far too sensible to believe such superstitions. If the population is compromised....well, you possess a well-armed ship, and many loyal armsmen aboard your vessel. And you are the most highly motivated agent we could think of.

He tailed off for a moment, as he considered Aurelius' question.

"The sculptors were largely outside of our interest, and they had little care for us. As specified in the contract, supplies were dropped at intervals, but the hermits otherwise rejected contact with the outside world. They had requested somewhere isolated to complete their holy task, Sir Wolfgang provided them with one. The last we heard, their colony was entirely without trouble...or fruit for their extensive labours."


OOC: Persuasion roll of 6 for Odette  (success).
This message was last edited by the player at 01:13, Mon 20 Dec 2021.

Odette nodded at Aurelius. "I believe they'll take succour from their work alone, knowing they're striving in the name of the God Emperor and His holy saints. I don't wish to disrupt their solitude any-more than is needed, but we should certainly see to their physical well-being, and their spiritual if they're willing to engage with yourself." She smiled. "I'm glad to have you with us for this, the colonists would benefit greatly from your presence."

Turning her attention back to Pultach Norn she mused a moment, considering. On paper the arrangement was perfect for them, no commitment after ensuring the safety of the refinery and perhaps the colonies. However the more it prospered the better, which motivated them to put in efforts to increase productively in the long run, and anything they provided would end up under House Krin's control. She internally tipped her hat to Pultach Norn, but her realisation changed nothing.

The dynasty needed this, and he knew it as well as she did. That said, rights to the colony gave the dynasty a foothold that was entirely under their remit and in itself could be tapped for greater fortunes in the region.

"I believe we are agreed then. One last question from myself though, do you have full fights under Imperial law for the mining rights to the entire planet, or could others be trying to establish their own? That's one possibility for what's happened here."

"They have their succor", acknowledged Aurelius in the softest voice, "But they have been far from the Emporer's Light, striving in the darkness..."

He frowned, straightening to meet the Lady-Captain's eye, and smiled weakly before nodding once. Like her, he recognized that the Dynasty needed this, and he needed the Dynasty to succeed if he were to bring these lost worlds into the Emporer's Light once more

"On paper, we are the full and entire owners of the system and all in it. In practice....the Expanse often has its own rules. Piracy, a would-be claim jumper....it is impossible to know for sure, but I am sure you are ready for anything.

"Now, I am sure you do not want to waste any time. I look forward to news of your success."


....


When the meeting was concluded, it was time to prepare for the mission. The destination was cleaqrly visible from the windows of Port Wander, the two warp storms--and the tiny pinprick of normal space that made up the Maw--visible as a discoloured stain that stretched across the void. The Koronous Expanse....the making of many Rogue Traders and the graveyard of so many more.

Also visible, where it was docked, was the sword that the Faye dynasty would raise against this limitless void. Named with a sense of irony, the Forlorn Hope was a light cruiser that did not look the least bit light. The Secutor-class ships were heavyweights, created by the Adeptus Mechanicus to be ready for anything in uncharted space, packing protection and armament that rivalled ships twice the mass. Fitted with heavy lances, housing a regiment of household troops and housing flight decks that mounted wings of heavy attack craft, it was a snub-nosed beast of a ship.

And, for many generations of the Faye dynasty in the worst reaches of the Halo Stars, it was home.
This message was last edited by the GM at 00:43, Wed 22 Dec 2021.

After their audience with the Pultrach, and with the Maw visible from one of the many walkways and promenades that crossed Port Wander, Aurelius stared in wonder at their home - the venerable vessel that was the Forlorn Hope. He tore his gaze from the starship, turning to the other members of the Lady-Captain's inner circle, "Part of me would recommend Gun-Cutters and Rhinos; the other suggests hazardous environment gear and geo-priests familiar with promethium. Either way, I think our most valuable asset will be information..."

 Through the remainder of the meeting, Explorator Tesla remains quiet, having contributed his probability analysis early on and having little else to offer in the absence of further information - asides from the occasional binary chatter with passing servitors or household cherubs about arcane theological matters no doubt too rarefied for minds of mere meat to follow.

 That does not however, mean that he does not have ideas once the group is underway, his brassy metallic tones observing "Certainly, access to the most recent information regarding the system would be of value, as well as an update on known threats operating in the sector. Pending that information, and with the understanding that this is a tentative proposal, I would prioritise the two smaller locations first. Although the refining colony is the primary target it is also the most volatile. Securing Epsilon and Alpha will provide the household troops with experience in conducting a landing in unsecure territory as well as provide us with an opportunity to gather local intelligence while maintaining sensor observation on the mining station."

With some enquiries, Odette was able to find the captain of the Vagabond-class freighter Gaberlunzie, which had been a day away from pulling out and heading back into the Calixis Sector, as it currently ran a munitions supply route from Scintilla to keep the Port Wander warships supplied with Gunmetal City's finest ordnance.

The captain, a cagey and twitchy woman named Yrsa Wormwood, told what she knew--that until about a year ago, she had run promethium supplies from Gallicinae, a highly profitable contract, but one that she was glad to see the back of. She had always had a bad feeling about that place, according to her.

"But that last trip....there was something strange going on, I could feel it. Everyone felt on edge...it felt that when we were loading everything that could go wrong did, we had to jettison a megaton canister that hadn't been sealed properly when it was loaded, damn thing could have blown us all to ashes if something had set it off. Took far longer than it should do to get anything done! That slug of a colony governor said that he was having 'temporary issues with his labour force'....yeah, didn't turn out to be so temporary, did they? It's just like my father said, the only people more foolish than those who go into the Accurse Demesne are those who ignore the signs to get out."

Another curious thing had been several reports of strange dreams among the crew, which had been attributed to proximity to the great warp storms. Fresh checks on the warp seals upon the hull had found nothing unusual, but even so, Wormwood did not mind admitting that she had not dallied longer than necessary.

OOC: 7 on Common Knowledge.