Ecthelion's Encounter

“The ship was, of course, a weapon of war but at that time I did not know of the true and secret purpose of the craft and its crew. Since then my understanding has grown a little as over the years I have been able to piece together a few fragments of evidence from others.

Her name was Idrythiss; “The Firebrand”, and I thought her exquisitely beautiful. She seemed to me to have been formed out of the very fabric of the air itself; wonderful long sinewy lines that seemed to fit together seamlessly as though she had been literally poured from the mind of her creator. Like the rest of the crew, my admittance to the ship had been based solely on the position my family held within our Craftworld society. To be a part of The Firebrand meant something to the crew, even if we were completely forbidden to discuss what it was we were doing. I didn't truly understand that at the time, especially since it appeared to me as though we were not doing anything different to any other crew. But I had been well drilled by our teachers not to discuss matters in case even the lesser known titbit of information held some importance that our people wanted kept safe, and so I did my duty, even if I didn't yet understand what it was.

Eventually of course that would change. I was a member of the crew for general duties, but my primary role on board was to act as a member of The Hands of Kurnous. There were ten of us in total and I was the youngest by far. The Five of the Right Hand (that was my team) were the kill team; marksmen who were expected to remove sentries, guards or persons of specific interest. The Five of the Left Hand were the intrusion team. It was they who crawled into the bowels of Imperial compounds or would fly into the wreck of a crashed Dark Eldar vessel. You might assume that the Left Hand had the harder task but in reality our work was just as risky. It was as essential for us to secure an area first, and to remain unnoticed, and we had to use all the means at our disposal to lure and entice security to positions where we could clinically butcher them. Together The Left Hand and The Right Hand worked tirelessly and without outside recognition. It was careful work, but essential to the success of our wider mission. Our hunt.

It was on my last mission for The Firebrand that some of what this hidden purpose entailed became clear to me. It seemed like any normal day aboard ship until the vessel came to an abrupt stop. After protracted moments of silence a slight commotion appeared to be spreading through the ship. We were no longer sailing alone. We were now part of a host. A great host at that. I had never seen so many Aeldari craft assembled together. Something extraordinary was about to happen.

The battle was fierce. I had never witnessed anything like it in all my young years. It was unforgiving and lethal work, but our people were set to it and seemed committed to the kill. As a smaller and lighter vessel The Firebrand was kept back from the main vanguard, left to focus on the periphery of the action. Suddenly, and without explanation we became aware that we were travelling again; only this time away from the conflict.

None dared to speak. Our Captain remained intensely focussed and the main crew clearly had a plan in mind. We sensed that our removal from the battle was deliberate, but we had no idea why that might be. After an hour the Captain gave instructions that we were to set to silent running.

We brushed through space like shadow across a dark pool. No living soul witnessed The Firebrand easing itself gently to a position just above an innocuous looking moon. The crew all held their breath, waiting for instructions. When the call for The Hands came, I was not entirely sure whether to be pleased or not. I felt the excitement, for sure; but there was a degree of anticipation in the air that I did not like.

When our Wave Serpent finally touched down the landing doors were opened, and the orders were given, “Right Hand determine a safe location for us to receive visitors, Left Hand secure the inner perimeter.” As we jumped out the grav engines screamed, lifting the vehicle back up off the moon surface as it headed back towards The Firebrand. All was silent.

The moon was mostly rock but did contain a thin atmosphere. After some time surveying the scene I found the ideal location myself; a plateau of rock that was only overlooked by a section of cliff that I felt we could hold ourselves. I passed back my findings and the team leaders agreed.

An hour later I was squatting down on the rock floor overlooking the plateau. Around me I could just about make out the shape of my fellow team mates, sat in their own positions, perfectly hidden against the rockface by their chameleoline cloaks. After sometime a call came in from The Firebrand that three vessels were approaching, two of them were Mon-Keigh ships. We were told to hold position whilst a Wave Serpent brought another group from The Firebrand. This time when they landed someone stepped out of the craft that I was not expecting. In fact I had had no idea they were ever on our ship at all. It was a Farseer, accompanied on either side by some of our finest warriors. Immediately I could hear the raised voices of my comrades in my mind, calling out questions about what we were doing. Having one of the great out in the open like this was terrifying. He stepped out on to the plateau as the Mon-Keigh ships we were expecting landed nearby. “Watch them closely” came an unnecessary reminder.

The nearest Mon-Keigh craft to my position had the sigils of one of their military factions, one of the giant malformed Mon-Keigh. I gripped my rifle closely and watched as the landing doors of the craft were thrown open. Out strode two of those hideous creatures, centred by one who seemed adorned with special paraphernalia. I looked at him carefully, the splendour of his armaments and the signs upon his armour and I shared this with my team. “Inquisitor...” came back the hushed response; “A Mon-Keigh witch”

The other Mon-Keigh ship opened its landing doors at the same time and a metallic shape scuttled its way across the platform and down out on to the moon’s surface. It was similarly followed by other such loathsome creatures. I called out to my team as to what I was witnessing and one of my brothers informed me that this was yet another abomination of the Mon-Keigh, one of those who cut the flesh from their bodies and sang to machines. How these Mon-Keigh misshaped themselves reminded me only too strongly of the terrors of our ancient and more terrifying enemy. It seemed to me that they were closely aligned.

Our Farseer met with these two leaders and I watched intently, awestruck by what was happening when suddenly I became aware of several shapes moving boldly into the meeting place. They were wheeling, springing from place to place and I could hear bold laughter in the corners of my mind. Harlequin...

What devilry had brought these factions together to so desolate a place, when not so far away Aeldari and Mon-Keigh were slaughtering each other in a brutal combat.

I was told to refocus my attention away from the congregation and instead to keep my gaze outwards. Being an obedient servant, that is what I did. For an hour those leaders sat in debate over matters I would never learn of. For one hour my team sat in our position whilst all I could think of was the wonder and the fear of what terrible force had driven such sides together to face one another like this.

When the attack came we were prepared. A long-range projectile was struck down before it met the moon, and several others were likewise rebutted by Mon-Keigh ships. It seemed perhaps that our old enemy was actively hunting for us all along They were great in number and as the weapons of our foes rained down upon us we broke cover and ran to protect our leaders. Suddenly, the ground around me exploded upwards and I was thrown into the air and then down hard upon the ground and remembered nothing more.

When I finally awoke, all was silent. My body ached but I was not injured, and more importantly I was no longer on that moon. I appeared to be an a narrow webway route, roughly the size of two of my people abreast. I was laying on the ground, carefully placed with my weapons just by my side. I managed to catch sight of one more thing before I blacked out again. Just where the webway turned several hundred paces ahead stood one lone Harlequin. The mask of that brother grinned back at me. I tried to sit up and ask for help but that was when my sense failed me again. I was now completely alone.

Options for explosions - Session #4 (#25)

After surveying the Ork fortress the warband debate how to gain access. They rationalise that they will need some way of penetrating the walls of the fortification and a suitable distraction to keep the greenskins occupied while they breach the wall.

By now Artemis has rejoined the group but Lycastus got separated from the bounty hunter and was last seen wading into a throng of Orks to buy Artemis time to get away.

The party settle on the idea of trying to sabotage one of the wrecked vessels in the yard and Tyrest looks for suitable nearby options. He plumps for three potential targets:

• A Stryxis caravan vessel - a set of crudely linked hulls scavenged by the mysterious and vermin-like xeno Stryxis
• A partially constructed Ork warship - swarming with greenskins working on its construction but potentially the most damaging option. 
• An Eldar Corsair Frigate - A small Aeldari vessel, relatively intact. 

The Warband decide that the Ork vessel is the best option, but potentially the most risky. Ecthelion then sneaks away to recon the ship.

He returns to advise that there appear to four possible options:

• The ship has a Fighter Bomber bay populated with small craft, munitions and mines. Sabotaging that could lead to a suitably devastating explosion.
• The power for the ship is generated by an internal chemical plant. It's volatile mix of chemicals could make for an easily combustable target.
• While well protected the ship's Engines could be primed to implode.
• Alternatively, rather than blowing up parts of the ship the team could take control of some of the vessel's ordnance and turn the cannon on other ships or sections of the yard.

The Warband decide that the Chemical Plant is the most viable alternative and Ecthelion and Lilith sneak in to set it to blow and also steal some cutting tools to enable them to get into the fortress.

Tyrest provides remote tech support via vox and Iliyan and Artemis keep watch.

The Ranger and Ganger are effective, sneaking past the Ork workers and gaining access to the murky, acrid atmosphered chemical plant. Ecthelion keeps watch while Lilith sets to work. She manages to set the main vats to over heat but sets a shorter timescale than they were anticipating (after rolling a Complication).  On their way out of the ship Lilith was also able to "acquire" some cutting gear but, due to another Complication, discovered a small Grot was still clinging onto the frame of the fuel tank. Lilith swiftly dispatched it with her blade before it could raise an alarm.

The party head back to the fortress and as the Ork ship explodes behind them Tyrest cuts their way into the lower levels of the stockade, allowing them to enter via the slave pens.

Artemis interrogates one of the human slaves, discovering in the process (with some shifted Icons) that he is actually a wanted bounty. Intimidating other prisoners into keeping hold of the bounty until he returns they then set off into the fortress to locate Darien and other members of the Emperor's Bounty crew.

They find Darien in deep discussion with a group of other prisoners, busily scribbling down what he is learning on some makeshift metal tabula. To "ease his transportation" Lilith incapacitates the Lord Captain with a needler dart she "just happened" to have.

Ecthelion goes to speak with a coterie of Aeldari prisoners and is immediately confronted by a Saim Hain Craftworlder who cites his Craftworld's ancient enmity with Kaeldor and how Ecthelion and Iliyan's people cannot be trusted. In response our ranger shows respect and formal politeness and a beautiful and stately female Eldar, whom the Saim Hain shows deference to, steps forward to address him...

“In withered flesh and powdered bone sleeps the bastard all alone” - Session #3 (#24)

Tyrest negotiates with the machine spirit controlling the door systems and gains the Warband entry to the Black ship. He learns that its name is “The Midnight Mourn”.

The Party draw weapons and cautiously start to navigate their way through the corridors and decks of the seemingly deserted vessel. There is still emergency power running and the dim lighting is in stark contrast to the eerie green hue of the wreckage yard.

It’s not long before the two Aeldari begin to hear voices, strange and ethereal, speaking words they can’t quite decipher.  They then receive a sudden vision of a passage ahead where a small, grotesque, figure sits in the darkness.

Suddenly Lycastus and Artemis rush ahead and down a side passage, apparently to hunt down some perceived threat. Illiyan gives chase but is buffeted by boxes and belongings which are telekinetically thrown from side rooms and passages as he runs. He is suddenly confronted with a bulkhead door that slams down in front of him, cutting off the Warlock from the marine and bounty hunter. Tyrest summons the appropriate ritual of opening and discovers that another door has closed a short way down. The system machine spirits inform him that all the doors have been closed, opening each door in turn will take hours so they are effectively cut off from their associates. Lilith manages to find an old Vox unit in one of the boxes that had been thrown into the corridor and gets it working, establishing a line to Lycastus. It appears that he and Artemis have come to their senses again and they agree to work their own way though the ship and rendezvous on the outside.

Our two psychically sensitive Aeldari then begin to hear a clearer voice; that of a young man who seems frightened and alone. None of the warband trust this however and set off on their way again.

Further down the passage the party come across the grotesque from the previous vision and discover it is an emaciated gretchin who appears to be quite mad and pays the heroes no attention at all. It is spending all its time scratching words in Low Gothic on every surface of the corridor that it can reach.  The words he etches repeat the same message over and over; “In withered flesh and powdered bone sleeps the bastard all alone”.

Lilith swiftly kills the greenskin.

As the group move on the young man’s voice starts up again but this time the whole party can hear him. The sound of the wailing, spectral voices also becomes obvious and the temperature within the ship suddenly drops, causing condensation on the walls and surfaces. Slowly writing starts to appear as if fingers were being drawn through the moisture; “Thirteen times the maker screams, thirteen more within his dreams”

Illiyan is suddenly ambushed by a maddened and savagely bestial Ork. They engage in melee and the Warlock is able to hold him off while Lilith draws a bead and shoots him with her laspistol

Ecthelion reaches out with his Psyniscience power, searching the Immaterium for the source of the phenomena that the party are witnessing. He is confornted with a barely restrained force like a burning star of raw willpower. He is shaken, not having realised a human mind was capable of power of that magnitude his sense of superiority over the "Mon-keigh" somewhat shaken.  Suitably warned the warband proceeds cautiously. 

Unbeknownst to the Warband though, and due to a series of failed Willpower rolls, they are being drawn further into the centre of the ship and are confronted with the focus of the psychic activity; Isolation chamber 26. They learn that the resident within is a notorious heretic known as Agrex the Desolate, who was caught by the Inquisition just over a standard decade ago.

Agrex has thrown off all pretence now and demands that they free him from his imprisonment.  Our heroes refuse and manage to evade his psychic lures. Using their Vox connection to their colleagues now on the outside and leaving Agrex swearing revenge, they make their way back out of the ship.

As they draw closer to the fortress they survey what awaits them. While the Ork stronghold is crudely constructed it is bristling with gun emplacements and swarming with Boyz and Squig hounds.  A frontal assault won’t be an option so the warband start to make alternate plans…

"Burn, xenos burn! Gretchin Inferno!" - Session #2 (#23)

Following the defeat of the mobs of invading Ork Boyz, our warband assess the situation. The
Arboretum is a scene of devastation; small fires still burn around the room, bodies both Ork and human litter the area and the collected fauna has been damaged beyond recovery. 

Ecthelion the Ranger and Illiyan the warlock scales the wall to survey outside the ship through the broken vista port. Meanwhile Brother Lycastus of the Salamanders looks for other survivors, Tech-Priest Tyrest (after noting that the vessel isn’t losing atmosphere through the hole in the roof) contacts the engineseers within the main engine room and Artemis, our bounty hunter, looks for further clues. 

On the roof Ecthelion gets his bearings, noting that the atmosphere is thin but breathable, and surveys the surroundings. The inside of the “head” is a huge Ork wrecking yard, containing several captured vessels in varying stages of scrappage and salvage. Across the huge space he also spots a number of Ork ships which appear to be being built from the parts and materials that the greenskins are stripping from their prey. 

Amongst the captive ships he notices an Aeldari vessel as well as both human merchant and Imperial Naval craft. There appears to be three other significant areas of interest; a heavy duty lift in the centre of the roof that ascends higher up within rock, a fortress like structure jutting from the ceiling near the, now closed, maw, and a hub of activity and strange Orkish machinery at the other side of the cavern which seems to be the origin point for the green energy that drew them in and still surrounds the ship. 

Illiyan is less nimble with his attempt to see what is happening and alerts a pair of Orks who had been busy stripping hull plates from the Emperor’s Bounty. He and Ecthelion have a brief fight with the greenskins and swiftly dispatch them, but once again Illiyan’s psychic power use summons the Perils of the Warp, the resulting shock wave being felt even by the rest of the warband in the ship below.

The warlock also feels a sudden connection to and draw toward the Aeldari vessel Ecthelion had spotted…

Meanwhile Lycastus has found no other survivors so sets to work treating his own wounds. Tyrest realises that the green energy is an Ork “Traktor Beam” and that while it is functioning the ship cannot move. Similarly, Artemis’ investigations leaves him to conclude that Lord Captain Darien is not amongst the fallen and must have been taken by the Orks, along with a number of other captives.

The Warband decide that their next step ought to be to try to rescue Darien and so head out of the ship, via the roof, and into the wrecking yard. Using the shadows cast by the green light of the tractor beams they make their way via gantries and scaffolds up toward the ramshackle Ork fort by the mouth of the wreckage yard..

The heroes soon find their path barred by a group of squabbling Gretchin fighting over a wheelbarrow of scrap. After discussing tactics the warband engage the diminutive greenskins and the battle never really goes against them. Our heroes do suffer a series of complications though; Lycastus runs out of ammo after emptying his full tank of promethium in his first attack, Illiyan manages to wedge his Wraithblade in the deck-plating of the walkway and Ecthelion shoots not only his Gretchin target but also severs a cable that was holding the scaffold platform level. Losing the cable means that the gantry tips precariously, making moving treacherous but the party adapts and soon a dozen greenskins lay defeated. 

Continuing their journey, the warband find that their quickest route will take them through one of the vessels in the scrap yard. The ship seems relatively intact and the two psychic Aeldari get a sense of “something” from the ship. Tyrest identifies that it is, or at least was, one of the Astra Telepathica Black Ships, used to transport captive psykers… 

Did we forget to mention....

I mentioned in the previous post about the "new crew" that there might be a couple more to add to the list. Observant readers will have noticed one of these popping up in the latest session write up, so here's a bit more detail about our resident Adeptus Astartes:

• Brother Lycastus - A Tactical Marine and Battle Brother of the Salamanders Chapter. Lycastus is a Flamer specialist who has served his chapter for many years. A veteran of Guilliman's Indomitus Crusade, Lycastus is used to working with a variety of assets and units but seems to chafe a little over House Baccharus' open association with Xenos. Exactly why he, and he alone, travels with the Rogue Trader is veiled in mystery but it may be connected to the single finger of a power glove that he carries with him...

Uninvited Garden Party Guests - Session #1 (#22)

This was the first proper session of our new Wrath and Glory campaign but is a sequel, and spiritual successor to our old Rogue Trader game.

We took things slowly as there was much to introduce and, as everyone was beginning to get to learn their characters and define their relationships, there was a lot of character based conversations that I have not captured.

Darien Erronius is now the patron of the party (or "warband" in the parlance of Wrath & Glory) and has summoned them, along with a number of key crew and significant servants of the House, to a function in a small arboretum on the top deck of the ship...

In a rare public appearance Lord Captain Darien addressed his guests, showing some of the eccentric behaviours that he has become famous for. During his speech he reveals the surprise that the crew has rumoured he is planned; the Emperor's Bounty is heading towards a giant effigy of the head of the Emperor of mankind! A giant stone head that is somehow floating in space!

Darien explains that he plans to send the PCs onto the "head" to discover exactly what it is.

However as they draw closer the head's "mouth" opens, spewing forth bright green energy that engulfs the ship, drawing it more rapidly towards the gaping maw.

Before the warband has a chance to really evaluate what is happening the arboretum locks down and out of the light, bursting through the vista panels overhead, come a horde of Ork boyz!

A mob of orks engage the heroes and they respond swiftly. Tyrest acts first calling upon the Rite of Fear to disconcert some of their foes while Lycastus, a Tactical Marine of the Salamander chapter, lets loose with his flamer, torching a group of Orks with a single sweep.

The Orks retaliate, shooting Lycastus and Ecthelion, the Aeldari Ranger, while a pair of boyz who weren't scared engage the tech-priest in close combat.

Ecthelion fires back, Artemis the bounty hunter and Illiyan the Aeldari Warlock charge into close combat. Simultaneously the Warlock summons his psychic powers to Compel a group of Orks to back away, which they do. However his power use causes a backlash, a hideous stench seems from the Warp that sickens everyone around.

The Warband fares better than the Orks though and by the end of the combat round only a third of the mob remains standing.

A new crew

So we have the beginnings of our Wrath & Glory "Warband":

• Artemis Callaghan - an ex-enforcer turned Bounty Hunter (Desperado archetype) who crossed paths with Rahip Lomar, the Rogue Trader's Master-at-Arms.  He impressed the old wardog enough to be put on a retainer by the Dynasty. 
• Lilith - A Hive Slum ganger with a knack for "acquisitions". She was caught trying to steal from the vaults aboard the Emperor's Bounty and negotiated her release (and subsequent employment by the Dynasty) by stealing from her then-employer.  Long before joining the crew she and Artemis crossed paths on opposite sides of the law.  
• Tyrest Anibus - A tech-Priest from Stygies VIII who is searching for a final component to prove his grand discovery...he has signed on with the crew as he sees their mission as conducive to his own (He is also has the highest Fellowship in the group....the party "Face" is a Cog-Priest....) 
• Ecthelion - An Aeldari Rangers of the Kaeldor Craftworld. Ecthelion appears and disappears at a whim, following the fickle fates that draw and command him and the secretive ploys and plans of his people.  Whatever his deeper motives the crew do know that he acts as guide, protector and chaperone for the mysterious Warlock...
• Illiyan - A dark and brooding psyker, the warlock was forced or convinced to leave his home Craftworld of Kaeldor due to tragic and troubling events, the specifics of which he has not disclosed to the Mon-Keigh he now travels with. The two Aeldari are recent allies but the connection between the Dynasty and their Craftworld goes somewhat deeper...

There's possibly a couple more characters to add to that mix but more on those in future posts...

Prelude

With a grinding of gears and squeal which, had his audio bafflers not auto-compensated, would have set the teeth he no longer owned on edge, the enormous ceramite and iconite door before Wyndame worked its way open. The visible mechanism was typical of designs of the Adeptus Mechanicus; great chromed and bronzed cogs and leavers spinning and hinging in overly theatrical movements, functionally opening the gateway to the inner sanctum but also impressing all witnesses with the glory of the Machine God and his works.

If Wyndame still had the capacity to sneer he would.

Smoke billowed out of the grand chamber beyond the doorway, clinging to the wrought steel deck plates. Wyndame was alone on the walkway, as the Master always wished it. He shuffled forward, away from the harsh fluorescence of the deck lights on their midday cycle and into the gloom of the room before him. Nasal filters immediately compensated for the copious smoke and incense. Analysis data scrolled across Wyndame’s eye implant HUD generating an audible tut from beneath his hood. A heady mix of opiates and “enhancers” today.  That meant the Master would be in one of his “moods”.

As the Master’s Seneschal Wyndame was his right hand; acting as major domo, counsellor, facilitator, administrator, accountant and ambassador. Over the years the Master had become increasingly reclusive and engaged within his studies leaving more and more matters in Wyndame’s manipulator appendages. That, however, was acceptable. The Seneschal was conditioned to obey and to serve as he had for decades before then but obedience still permitted a sense of resignation to one’s fate, occasional frustration at weakness  or illogical behaviours and frequent recognition of open folly. Especially when it came to the MasterMaster and his fanciful notions.

The doors to the chamber ground closed, their immense size making a grand and impressive clang as they met and sealed in place.  Impressive for the first few dozen times, perhaps, but to the jaded figure who now slowly approached the central dais they had long since lost all gravitas.

With his image intensifying optics compensating for the smoke and vapour from the brass incense burners and braziers that surrounded the centre of this vast room Wyndame could see the Master was furtively scribbling. To the left a dictation servitor was desperately trying to right itself after seemingly having been knocked down from the dais. It’s typography limbs singularly inefficient at any task other than transcription.

The Seneschal made two vocalisations in an approximation of coughs.  The Master continued his manic activity.

“M’lud?” Wyndame finally spoke. Still no obvious recognition. With a visible shrug (had there been any witnesses paying him attention) Wyndame started to drag himself up the steps of the dais but stopped suddenly as the master sat bolt upright and then whipped around to face him. The Seneschal was stuck by the fact that the Master looked more composed and in command of his faculties than he had seen him for a very long time.  “Oh dear” was his immediate thought.

Wordlessly, the Master slowly stood. Using his baroque style, bionic arm with golden filigree to dust crumbs and specks from his velvet breaches, he picked a dainty kerchief from the baroque style writing desk with golden filigree and started, in vain, to try to slowly wipe the ink stains from his still-human hand.

Wyndame remained paused. His augmented subprocessors hastily checked for viable response options but every behaviour selection previously utilized in engagements with the Master was evaluated to now carry disproportionate risk.  Silence to, for as long as this had now been, carried with it similar risk. A further audio output was increasingly necessary.

“M’lud, why are you troubling yourself so? Was the servitor malfunctioning?”

The Master’s gaze was still fixed on Wyndame.

He spoke. “Too slow.” He placed the ineffective and now only slightly ink stained cloth back on the desk.

“But Master that has never been an issue before.  It represents a significantly valuable model in terms of invested Thrones and was always satisfactory until now. Would you like the Magos to…”?

“No. Enough. Too slow now. Too much to do, too much to say.  It couldn’t keep up you see.  Was just in the way so I had to get it out of the way and do it myself, do you see? Things are happening, things are changing and it’s all becoming important again, do you see?”

Oh dear, oh dear.  Thought Wyndame. That’s it then, the years of wandering around and exploring, monitoring and measuring are done. His behavioural buffers and conditioning routines were suddenly under more pressure than they had been for some time.

"Why are you here though? Did I send for you?”

“Yes, Master, well no Master, not specifically.” Do you see what you have done? Wynadme thought, you are making me flustered.  I am never flustered. This is your doing.

“Out with it Wyndame, this isn’t like you.”

No, it wasn’t.

“Master, you wished for me to tell you when the probes and survey data was received.”

“Did I?” Oh dear…there was a gleam in the eye there, an almost perceived smile. He knows, by the Throne of Mankind, he knows, but I don’t know how.

“Have you seen the data Master?”

“No.  But you know I know what it says.”

“Master?”

“I was right, wasn’t I? My visions were correct.  I have seen it”

“Well Master, there is much to be confirmed and the data is only the preliminary scans. There is a significant margin of error, especially at this distance.”

“But? Say it”

“Say what, m’lud?” Wyndame was increasingly the furtive one now.

“Tell me how correct I was.  What have we found.”

The Seneschal fell back on what was safe, what was secure, what was reliable.  He started to recite the precis report summary in a monotone;

“At 249 days Standard 101.M42 a rogue asteroid with a mean diameter of 423 clicks, entered the current system at a speed of…”

“No!” the Master interrupted. “What IS it? What does it look like?”

“M’lud…” Wyndame was back to his usual, vocoder tinged voice.  He hated this. “…it looked a lot like a head.”

“Whose head?”

“Well, Master that data is subjective and..”

“Whose?”

“Some might liken it to a facsimile of the likness given to approximations of the mortal visage of the individual recognised within the Imperium of Mankind as his holiness the God-Emperor...”

“Told you.” The Master, a beaming smile on his face and exuding an enormous sense of victory and self-satisfaction, sat back down in his desk chair with a lump. “And now it begins… Again. Not that it ever really ended. "

“M’ud?”

With a sudden burst he was on his feet again and with a dramatic flourish he pointed up to the ceiling and the huge vista view ports that gave an unparalleled view of the stars, and the rip in reality that tore through them.

“Set sail man! All engines to full! And gather our chosen ones…you have a job for them…”

The return...

It is the year 101.M42...the Imperium of man is still coming to terms with being rent in twain by the Cicatrix Maledictum, the Great Rift; a chain of Warpstorms that have divided the galaxy into two. In the aptly named "Dark Imperium, beyond the light of the Astronomican, Ultramarines Patriarch and Lord Commander of the dominions of mankind, Roboute Guilliman summoned many notable houses and dynasties of Rogue Traders.  He has sought the aid of these, often maligned and outcast agents of the Imperium to scour the Dark Imperium for new worlds to colonise, new resources to replenish that lost in the recent and very damaging Plague Wars, and to find any assets, hidden technology or wonders that may offer hope to an isolated and endangered humanity...

One such dynasty was House Baccharus...or at least it's scion, Darien Erronius.

Erronius is never seen in public these days and never leaves his vessel; the ancient Adeptus Mechanicus Lathe class cruiser "The Emperor's Bounty". He is considered eccentric at best and as blatantly heretical at worst, but he has a reputation for searching for and rediscovering lost "wonders".  He has frequently disappeared from known space for decades at a time returning with  some remarkable finds, but frequently far less crew...

Regardless of the suspicion that many Imperial Agents may have of him, Guilliman is pragmatic and not averse to allying with "enemies" of the Imperium if he feels it benefits his plans or humanity as a whole. Therefore he dispatches Erronius with his blessing and the promise of support and great rewards, if he is successful.

Never an orthodox commander, Darien collects a crew of varied and disparate individuals, usually indirectly (none will ever have met him in person) many of whom may be of questionable character or conventional "worth" but are now bound together in his service and sets sail for the unknown reaches of space where the Emperor's Light barely shines...