The Pious Lament orbits high above the planet Gelron which dominates every window and port hole on the port side of the ship. To those who can see it, the edges is a thin, white, slightly curving line of atmosphere that separates the kaleidoscope colours of the land mass from the stark blackness of space, but such a view is limited to those on the bridge, the observation lounge and a few other rooms scattered throughout the ship, most are either looking out into blackness and stars, or down on the colourful patchwork and moving white cloud masses.
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This message was last updated by the GM at 16:13, Mon 30 Oct 2023.

As the hours passed Searlait did her best to retire to her quarters, taking what rest and family time she could before the days ahead that would see diplomatic envoys, meetings, discussions at best and open conflict at worst. But now with the last little bit before they descend to the surface, watching the last of the vehicles being loaded unto the barges; the mighty massive Red and white land raider, fresh from consecration and afforded a landing craft on its own, the Onager had armsmen taking crashseats to either side as well as a Enginnseer.

Mukaali had Light of the Emperor and Megara's Might, while Aurochs had Gathalamor Express and a Staff car as well as troopers to man them. Last minute weapons checks and reloads were brought aboard while Cargo-8's were being prepared in Grox and Ambull, some with gifts of peace, others of war depending on how this went.

Ravandio had spent several hours going over charts of the surface with Asgard. He offered advice where he thought it would be suitable. Acting as a sort of liason for Wing Commander Laurel, he helped coordinate the processing and preparation of aircraft that would be descending onto the planet below. He also had to let his wingmates know that they would be patrolling and defending the Pious without him for the time being.

He currently stood on a gantry above most of the assemblage, making sure that the movements matched the notes he'd taken during his meeting with Gregory on which vehicle was going where, which ships would be descending together with what crew. Rav certainly seemed to be out of his element slightly. He was for a fact more comfortable in the cockpit of an aircraft, zipping around in a dog fight or patrolling the voids of space.

If Gregory is uncomfortable in his formal House Velspar (now Saoirse) uniform, he gives absolutely no sign. He even has his regimental Hat which he doffs in the presence of the Lady-Captain, as is proper. There is a brief discussion and inspection of the honor guards with Captain Aase, and another discussion and review of the assault contingent with Major Law. The latter will not be going in with the honour guard; they are, for intents and purposes, After the rigmarole is done, he approaches Rvandio and joins him in looking over the flurry of activity inside the hangar bay.

"Boring, huh?" he says to the other man

He was scribbling something down onto the little piece of paper that he'd spotted down below them. It wasn't anything important, just something that he could bring up next time that they had to do this where something might move slightly more efficiently. Rathnyr looked up when Gregory approached him, and he straightened up. Ravandio wasn't a very tall man. You really couldn't be extremely tall if you wanted to live in a cockpit comfortably. All of his exposed skin was also covered in scars. If ever asked about it, the given excuse is 'fights'.

"Yeah, it's not really my thing, logistics and such," he said, looking back to the loading of the Land Raider. It was still a mystery to him as to how they had gotten hold of it, but he hadn't pressed anyone for answers regarding it's presence aboard the Pious Lament. "I'm a fighter, not a book keeper," Ravandio said with a chuckle.

The Navigatrix had her instructions but there was little use in denying the fact that it stung her pride. To be relegated to licking her mending wounds left a bitter test of invalidity that remained perpetually close to the surface thanks to the machinations and betrayals of her supposedly perfected genetics. It was beneath her, however, to use such personal ruminations as justification for the dereliction of her perceived duty and the value that she might put forward through such matters as her astrological knowledge, broad education, and sundry other cultivated talents that had ensured she was ready and able to step in for their convalescing cousin... who increasingly she suspected had reached the point of no return in his personal evolution.

A grim terminus that they would all arrive at eventually. That thought was a black and bitter comfort if she were to be honest with herself as she continued to lean heavily on her shaking arms, eyes locked on the sprawling calculations that played out over the cartography table before her. Each avenue of warp transit connecting the countless celestial bodies that littered the vast void of the Cosmos. Each notation, each delicate mathematical consideration of the utter insanity of the Endless Sea done by her own hand and torn from the jaws of laughing, thirsting abominations through will and insight alone.

Her gaze drifted on that thought to the black, sleek form of her prima navis. The gene lock open and it's precious databanks linked by snaking cables to hololithic projector of the table. It was the totality of her work including the latest charts that the Lady Captain had requested prepared. The truth of the matter was their route here and back had been complete for some time. Every turn, hazard, calculation and re-factoring there of incorporated into a final product of superlative quality that would, again, prove her worth to her peers, elders, and with continued addition... her father. Her body may have failed but the mind behind it was razor fine in it's edge.

She braced herself carefully then, shifting the majority of her weight onto one shaking arm as she reached out to the control panel for the display. Fingers tapped in further additions to the sprawling calculations, high lighting nearby hub systems to see where the lanes might overlap and allow for connections into the original, circuitous route that had brought them here. The pain churning up from her hips, through her spine, across the plane of shoulders and up through her neck to drill into her temples with each motion. Her will forcing it aside, forcing her wretched body to remain standing and support itself under the weight that she had inflicted upon it and what remained of the once fine figure she had cut.

She tapped again and again at the keys of the control interface, turning the projections to suite every possible avenue of perspective as Master Grund lurked quietly by, his own fingers working at the data tablet from the comfort of a plush seat she had inflicted upon him. His protests still felt in the quiet, thoughtful grumbles as he continued through his ledgers and data reams in the single minded way of any true veteran of the Administratum. The seat an unwanted luxury and comfort that detracted from the focus only pain could bring to the learned and blessed mind.

A lesson Cennet knew all too well as she with drew her hand from the console for a moment to drum lightly at her chest. Her mind drifting to the mended plate that produced such sweet and gentle notes through the lighter fabrics of her gown. The violence of the aeldari blades addressed with careful insets of newer material starkly contrasting against the more weather sections in a jagged pattern down the length of her chest. The once pristine patterns of vine and vein of blue and gold now off set by millimeters despite the exacting obsessions of the Adeptus Mechanicus and digging all the more deeply at her well nettled pride.

The Navigatrix sighed softly then as she braced herself once more against the table with both arms. Her attention turning to the steady stream of comms chatter through the vox systems worked into the table as well. It's steady cacophony keeping her appraised of this or that aboard the Pious Lament but most important to her, beyond her craft of course, was the formal announcements of planet fall. The flight plans and itinerary relegated to a secondary data tablet that was gently propped up to her left.

Until they intended to set sail once more, this was all she could do and see to curbing the worst of the intrigue of her peers... Though she far preferred the company of numbers in the moment. The gnawing of her wounds still present but well addressed by those of the medicae staff who had such clearance as to attend to the peculiarities of navigator physiology. The fuss of it earning a small laugh in the quiet of the chamber as it was not like pain and discomfort weren't well worn and tested companions.

++Lady Captain, I'd hope all is still on track for planetfall in the coming hour?Else the collected flight plans may need to be refactored.++ the Navigator asked with a voice that reflected little of her condition as she reached out via the direct lines afforded to department heads. Her attention turning briefly to the various status updates she was privy to of such preparations.

++Yes Navigatrix, we are currently on schedule, I thank you for the assistance provided in their computations." She responds from behind a blast shield to help keep the deafening cacophony of the launch deck. ++How fairs your recovery++

++The least I can do in the moment.++ Cennet replied, her tone as polite and pleasant as ever though evident that her attention was perhaps slightly divided. Whilst her strength waned, she continued to will her body to maintain it's current position with weight growing more and more precariously balanced against the cartography table. Her hand continuing to dance with pained alacrity over the control keys to add more and more to the growing tapestry of the local star and warp charts.

++The prognosis is that I'll recover and was given leave to attend to the repairs of my my dermal plating. I've since chosen to ignore the fragilities of the flesh, as the Priesthood of Mars might put it, and focus upon the bastion of the mind.++ the Navigatrix replied with a certain care. ++A project helps and the charts, base don the already collected data, are complete to a passable level by my own measures and exquisite by the estimations of others. I've also taken the opportunity to patch myself into the command channels as well, for the duration of your absence along with most of the executive staff. To keep things running and lend what help I can from here for the landing parties.++ the woman added with a certain care and propriety as such initiative could toe a line but the circumstances had made it seem prudent for the moment and it was, technically, not outside of the realm of influence a Navigator might exert on a host vessel.

Vormav walked up behind Gregory and Ravandio "Quite right, logistics are MY thing." He leaned on the railing near the other two, his great coat in the Saoirse colors looked freshly cleaned  but it was still tailored and modified to support his mounted weapon. "This will be a tough one I imagine. Small, well equipped highly mobile force against a more numerous fortified enemy? Lets hope it's at least two loyal factions or at east a loyal one and one that we can buy off."

He straightened up when Vormav came up and joined them in their observation of the roll out of the Pious Lament's armor. "I wasn't desiring to intrude. I was only observing, witnessing our preparedness so soon after we were attacked by the Xenos. It is quit impressive." Ravandio turned to the side so that he could continue to observe while still being available for conversation with the other two men. "We know they are fighting down below, so there is at least one faction that has fallen from grace. Which one, though? Seems like a dice roll so far."

Gregory turns to Vormav and nods. "You have that right. We're in a pickle when it comes to Gelron," he begins. "We've got lots of forces, but they're mostly infantry, which means they'll slaughter us if they can mass armor and artillery in any significant amounts. Granted, we have the Lament for fire support, but orbital bombardments are not terribly precise, and we'll have to risk the Lament if we want to employ it. I don't like that. And despite Rav's men and his skills, we don't exactly have full aeronautica wings for air support, or much capacity to move troops down. Oh sure, we can transport the ship's complement to the surface... eventually. But not in a hurry, and we're going to be fethed harder than a joygirl when a regiment passes through town if they have air assets. In short, military intervention should not be our first option; securing an alliance with military power should be. Then we can talk about airdropping our assault companies on pre-softened targets and so on.""

He sighs. Much as he hates having to admit that he's useless here... Gregory is keenly aware that trying to win too much glory for himself here is fatal for the enterprise as a whole, and so he's trying to rein himself in. But he owes it to his fellow officers to give them his assessment of the situation.

Faith blinks, and then she realizes she's standing in the middle of the corridor leading to the landing bay. Apparently, she's been spacing out and imagining herself talking to the Captain and the Head Navigatrix.

It's not entirely unheard of; there are stories that a psyker's vision can occasionally lapse into another world that is almost the same as their own, except for one or two small details. For instance, perhaps in a certain world she HAD been speaking to the Lady-Captain and Miss Cennet... But not in this one.

She shakes her head, noting the voidsmen muttering and making the Aquila as they look at her, and then she proceeds into the bay. No time to worry about cross-dimensional visions; they have a job to do!
This message was last edited by the player at 12:28, Mon 26 June 2023.

"Not a reprimand just stating the facts. Logistics is a solid half of my department." he flashed a grin at Ravandio

He pondered, his education had only covered the broad strokes of military history not the particulars of the Tactica Imperialis "I don't know if I would count us out. Coming from orbit we can appear nearly anywhere. Dropping a forces behind enemy lines, while their armies are occupied, in a position to capture their VIP's could end a conflict without notable loss of life. It's really about assessing their anti-orbital capabilities at this point. Their airforce is all but useless if they can't refuel after all, and we can attack those from orbit fairly easily. Honestly I don't know how a ground based force defends against an orbital opponent. We traverse their entire planet in what 20-30 minutes? They can't redeploy fast enough to stop us dealing damage somewhere even if we lose the force to their response afterward. But I suppose that's why you wanted a penal battalion, eh?"

+++You do a lot even from up here Navigatrix, besides this is just a first re-introduction, I plan on a more formal meeting between all parties aboard the Lament to be upcoming.+++ She response not just to boost her spirit but also in earnest as that was her plan.

"Orbital artillery is the ultimate high ground. I'd say they'd need ground-based macroweapons of their own to even get a shot against us; and you can't hide those. Not easily, at least." Gregory muses. "And yes, the Lament does have a lot of advantages against ground-based targets. But they don't come free, and the price we may end up paying is the ship itself. Which is why I'd rather only consider the use of the Lament's guns in extremis. Mind you, that's just what I think. If they think we're ready and willing to rain macrocannon broadsides on anyone who opposes us, that might give us an edge in negotiations. Also; that IS part of why I wanted a penal battalion. If our first boots on the ground are going to walk into ambushes or have to clear minefields with their feet, I'd rather they be people we don't care so much about."

+++Anything less would be disgraceful. I'll ensure my peers, aides, and I are ready for that event.+++ Cennet replied with a slight warming of tone beyond the typical cordial composure. The recognition was a temporary balm if nothing else given the complexes she nurtured but it was still a welcome one as she ultimately allowed herself to sit and unburden the undeserving stretches of sinew that had been the first and greatest betrayal of her anatomy to date. Instinct and well drilled habits ensuring that the work of the past few hours was saved and exported once more from the table to her navis prima.

+++I'll leave you to the last preparations for now but I'll keep an eye on the departure timers should anything need to be refactored.+++ Cennet concluded, knowing fully well that the Lady Captain had much to do and leaving the offer of further administrative assistance unspoken but on the table. That drive to prove her worth defying the battered crippled state of her body.

+++Again thanks for your assistance+++ She voxes back before moving across the launch deck to the overhead cross decking to the other Officers "How are final preparations?"

Gregory salutes the Lady Captain crisply before beginning his report.

"The honor guard are ready and waiting, while I have a company of assaulters on standby in another barge in case they're needed. You'd have to speak with the techpriests for the exact status of the Land Raider and other ground vehicles, but I am assured that they are fully functional. Colonel Bottrell is in charge of the Lament's garrison while I'm planetside."

Faith arrives behind the Lady-Captain, allowing herself to be heard and seen coming (apparently people don't like being blindsided by psykers!) before clearing her throat and announcing her presence.

"Reporting for duty, ma'am," she says. Strangely enough, she is not dressed in her Astropath robes or carrying her staff of office; instead, she is wearing a set of white Administratum robes and carrying a dataslate. The overall effect makes her look like a junior scribe rather than a sanctioned psyker... and perhaps that's what she's shooting for.

"Ah, since I'm meant to be a hole card, I borrowed a set of Administratum robes from Ms. Talionis' typing pool. I will be pretending to be a secretary while planetside."

Ravandio bristled slightly at the mention of using a penal legion in such a manner, but the reaction was quickly lost when the Captain approached. He immediately straightened up, slipping his little note pad into his pocket, and waited for the others to address her first with their reports. "As soon as everything is loaded, our ships are ready to depart. Should be shortly," he reports the readiness of their space craft after Asgard.

Vormav yells back down to the captain "As ready as I can be captain. Hard part will come once we make planet fall."

There really wasn't much to be done last minute from his department. Everythihng he could do all came in the weeks and months prior, making sure the troops and crew were fed, trained, and happy, buying enough fuel that they could ready the landing craft. It was all undoubtedly important. But if it wasn't done before now would have been far too late. It was kind of nice, he thought to himself. Everything being handled ahead of time meant he could dedicate himself fully to missions like this one.

"Excellent, once we are ready we shall depart to meet this Northern Alliance and their leader, Sir Norman Cecil. I will descend first from the lander when we depart then the rest will descend from the barges in full military style with their vehicles, have weapons ready in case of ambush but no-one fires unless fired upon or I give the order." She tells the officers as she takes once last look over the controlled pandemonium across launch bay "We shall be departing within the hour if I can help it, the Lament will provide overwatch while we are on the surface."

Gregory suddenly glances to the side as he gets a messsage over his microbead, and then he turns to Searlait.

"Madam, it seems the little surprise I asked Mr. Tesla's subordinates to work on has been completed. As you know, we have shipboard emergency kits which contain emergency vox units for broadcasting prayers for void salvation. My plan was to alter a few of them to instead broadcast an obscure targeting signal which the Lament's fire control systems could lock onto at long ranges and minimize the harm we might take from planetside counterfire. Hopefully they will allow us to bring the Lament's firepower to bear more effectively and safely."

Searlait is momentarily shocked at such a thing but then smiles deviously "Excellent idea Mr. Asgard. The more precises we can get the better, I would like to limit collateral damage to the population and facilities for the re-integration"

"That was a concern, yes. While I believe the Lament is fully capable of deleting entire cities from the map, that may come at the cost of deleting friendlies as well. Macrocannon salvos are not known for their subtlety, as I'm sure you're aware. Nevertheless, I'm sure we'll be able to build better versions of these targeting beacons, improve our ability to deliver them, and get the gunnery crew to strike them with greater accuracy."

"Hopefully we won't have to use them, the Northern Alliance seemed more amicable to our presence so we will be heading there first. I will be taking the Grey Pilgrim down, Officers who wish to accompany me can, there are 6 further slots. May the God-Emperor go with us" with that she turns on her heel, and makes her way to the shuttle, striding up the ramp and unto her throne.

The small fleet of small ships descends on the planets, heading for given coordinates in the northern hemisphere where there is a vast void port on the edge of the planets only sea. The area has been carefully scrutinised via auspex sensors and seems to be free from anything that might be considered a threat, however the port did look severely neglected.

Ravandio, you are in charge of this flight, which ship are you in and would you like to describe how the fleet makes it’s landing.
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Ravandio finished observing the ballet down below as the rest of the officers loaded up in the vessels they'd be taking down to the surface. He climbed down from the gantry and crossed the deck towards the Grey Pilgrim, the craft that would take the Captain and her Honour Guard as well as the senior officers down to the surface. He climbed on board the ship, kissing his finger tips and tapping it to the doorway that would seal the bridge from the rest of the ship. He slipped into the pilots chair awaiting the go-ahead from the Captain.

---

He hated planetfall. The viewport shields were up and in place, protecting the interior of the drop shuttle from the immense heat that was building up on the exterior of the Grey Pilgrim. Even with proper shielding, however, the interior temperature of the craft had risen noticeably. Nothing intolerable.

The heat wasn't why he hated planetfall. With the viewports covered and with the instrument panels on the exterior of the craft protected, there were many long minutes where the pilot was essentially blind. They were in an enormous block of metal crashing into the atmosphere, leaving a bright trail across the sky that anyone that knew what to look for could plainly see. If the people down below knew what they were looking for and had the weapons to reach, the descending craft would be completely defenseless.

Keeping his hands tight on the control yoke, Rav rode out the turbulance until they were finally clear. "Sensors," he called out and immediately received a response from his crew. His screens started to flicker and come back online. "We are on target for our destination, Captain," he says as the viewports uncover and he levels out the craft, peeling off towards their chosen landing zone.

The ships land in quick succession and troops and vehicles disembark into a defensive formation. The void port is vast and mostly neglected with vegetation growing through the apron, much of which is cracked and broken. An are near the reception buildings has bee cleaned up and repaired and this is where the Lament’s small ships have landed. They have even gone to the trouble to bring out a red carpet which they now unroll towards the Grey Dove and alon which a small group of dignitaries are approaching.
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Searlait strides down the ramp of the Grey Pilgrim fully encased in her gleaming polished armour, one of her honour guard carrying her shield while she used the witchlance as a walking stick. She stops about halfway to the approaching dignitaries, the xenos cloak flowing faintly in the wind. Once they are close enough she greets them "Ave Imperator, I am Captain Searlait Saoirse of the Pious Lament, we bring the greetings of the Imperium to Gelron"

Gregory is quick to follow, staying a respectful distance behind her while making sure his bolt pistols and storm bolters are on display. His armor isn't as fancy as Searlait's, but its wear hints at the many battles he and the honor guard around him have been through.

He sends a vox message to Ravandio, or whoever's still on the vessel and thus has a better view of the situation. ++Keep your eyes open for any signs of an ambush.++

”Sir Norman Cecil,” the leader says, stepping forward from his entourage and offering a hand and a smile, ” first minister of the Northern alliance. You certainly took your time but now you are here, you are most welcome.” The rest of the entourage all bow and fall in behind as the First Minister leads off towards the buildings.

”We have set up some impromptu conference facilities here, not much I’m afraid but these are difficult times for us, will you join us and I’ll make some formal introductions,” the last remark is perhaps to appease his own people but he leads into the void port facilities where two guards on the door present arms smartly.

There are plenty of guards in evidence, all dressed like the two on the door, in combat fatigues and apart from these two, all facing outwards, a guard to protect the dignitaries, rather than welcome them.
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Vormav as always is dressed smartly and is styled to be roguishly charming. He follows along with the captain's entourage. He thinks to himself They are at a full military posture if they wanted to ambush us we would be squarely on top of their bait. He supposed that's why the captain had skilled subordinates. He had seen Gregory in action at a minimum and and had heard of the captain and her body guard's exploits. If it came to fighting their way back to the landing craft and leaving then the condition of the craft was probably a less certain variable than their individual capabilities.

He watched this "First Minister" every planet had it's own way of organizing their government so this man could be their head of state or the minister of the first district of the city. He really should have paid more attention in that briefing. For that matter he could have been a body double, like they should have been using for the captain, he thought in hind sight.
This message was last edited by the player at 17:22, Thu 13 July 2023.

"Searlait Saorise, Captain of the Pious Lament, Rogue Trader of the Saoirse Dynasty; and yes, we were attacked when we made out jump in from the mandeville point and as we settled into a geosynchronous we had to ensure no threats were laying in wait" she responds "And we thank your timely and warmer reception then some of the other occupants of this world." she adds following the way indicated path inside to the conference hall.

As she walks she sends an encrypted vox signal 

As they got to their seats she stands just in front to see what protocol this planet had for seating.

The assaulters are assisting and escorting the voidsmen in unloading the gifts from the Lament, and with an encrypted vox-order, Gregory shifts their force disposition toward Searlait and the rest of the delegation, the intention being to not reveal their intentions too obviously, but to place them in a better position to rush to Searlait's rescue in case something happened.

The guncutters' weapons are also manned, though not active, but with a similar intention; they don't want to project hostility, but they do want to be ready to fight in case the worst happens.

In reply to Gregory Asgard (msg # 31):

Remaining aboard the craft, Ravandio receives a message from the delegation. He leaned forward on the console and toggled the vox. ++I'm on it. Keeping an eye on anything that the Pilgrim's sensors can see.++ He flipped the switch back so that it wasn't broadcasting his own words, returning his attention to what he could see and any information relayed to him from either the crew of the Grey Pilgrim or the other craft.

The first minster gives Searlait a sideways look, ”I am sorry for your troubles Captain, but it has been over a hundred and fifty years since the Empire has taken any notice of the problems we are having here.”

The room chosen for this meeting is large, clean, has a long table running down the middle and smells faintly of fresh paint. A painting of the emperor hangs on one end wall opposite a framed document, there is no other decoration. Searlait is conducted to a chair in the middle of the long side of the table, there are chairs either side of her for other members of the party, Sir Norman Cecil sits opposite with his entourage and a lexicarnum takes up station at the end of the table.

Carafes of water have been provided at each place, non the less Sir Norman Cecil begins by offering refreshments, ”can we get you anything before we start, wine perhaps, or there is a rather pleasant tea we drink on Gelron.”

Outside all seems well, no threats are perceived, birds circle in the clear blue sky and a soft but slightly chill breeze blows a trace of ozone in from the sea. To the south, beyond the horizon where the land rises up in low hills there is a darkness though, the shadow cast by the disk in space lends an eery light in that direction.
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Faith has been quiet all this time, playing up the image of a meek, docile scribe taking notes as she follows behind the others. Her efforts have been focused on sweeping the locals for any traces of psychic activity, as well as occasionally switching to her familiar Nevermore's perspective to monitor their surroundings.

She glances up at the First Minister as he sits opposite them, while pulling out her autoquill and dataslate in preparation to take notes.

Vormav sits to the captain's left and graciously accepts tea. Could it be poisoned? Yes. But if it was something fast acting then everyone else could avenge him and if it was slow then he was probably valuable enough that no expenses would be spared for his medical attention.

He looks up at the painting of the Emperor. Looking for anything odd about it. They very well could have just pulled it out of storage as opposed to giving it the honor it was due.

"I'm afraid your information doesn't align with that of the wider galaxy First Minister, this wasn't a simple disconnect with the greater Imperium. Your planet has not been visited because your planet is no longer where it was. It has been over a millennia since it was declared lost, you are no longer in the Segmentum Tempestus. Your world is now in the Segmentum Obscurus, crossed half the galaxy and has recently be found in the periphery of a stellar anomaly that has previously destroyed fleets searching the area." she says, standing behind the chair and staring at the Minister as her entourage take their seats and watches to see how the news would affect the planetsiders, taking a seat if they do, remaining standing if they do.

There is a moments stunned silence, and then uproar amongst the first minister’s retinue, most seemed shocked by this new and they all seem to talk at once, some throwing questions at Searlait with no thought for protocol or decorum, others protesting, some arguing or discussing with each other, and not a few ’I told you sos’ amongst them.

The first minister, and the man next to him in military uniform maintain their composure, Sir Norman Cecil frowning in deep thought, the other shouting out a command in a loud parade ground voice, ”SILENCE!. Remember where you are.”

”Please forgive us Captain, this news is a bit of a shock,” the first minister says once order is restored, ”we were al aware that something was amiss but this is beyond our wildest speculations. Our planet is currently in a state of aggression bordering on civil war bests of the great black disk in the sky, can you tell us anything about that, it is our most immediate concern.”
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As the meeting devolves into an uproar of voices from the opposite side, Searlait finally takes her seat, expecting this to go on for a few minutes before the First Minister could corral his subordinates in to control, taking a sip of water.

Once order is restored she responds with "Understandable after the news you were given, it isn't everyday your world view is quiet so shaken and thrown about. We have been aware of your planets tenuous peace since we got within sensor range of the planet. The Disk is a manufactorum that I have dispatched some of our Adeptus Mechanicus crew to investigate and as soon as I have answers I will be more then happy to share them, I felt is was imperative to secure open and peaceful relations as quickly as possible so we could move forward."

”I think then that we had better explain our situation here then,” the first minister says, glancing up and down the table for approval from the others on his side.

”About two hundred years ago, no one can be very precise about the date, this planet suffered what we now refer to as ‘the event’, what went on before the event nobody knows, those who survived it, and there are still a few around, describe it as waking from a long dream, and like a dream, passed memories had all faded away, people still retained whatever skills they had and knew their names, where they lived. Most, but not all remembered their families and loved ones, where they lived and worked, practical things for everyday living, but know nothing ‘historical’, they didn’t know how they met their wife, how long they’d been together or how old their children were. ”

”I was quickly discovered that cogitators, memory crystals and even the written word had all been corrupted in some way, birth certificate had blurred ink where the dates had been, calendars were a gobbledygook of mixed numbers and letters, and even dates carved in stone on monuments and statues were ‘weathered’ beyond reading. A new dating system was quickly established, starting with the time of the ‘event’ but, it was about sixty years before it properly stabilised, people could not agree on how much time was passing and things written down quickly became confused, not only on the paper, but also in the minds of the very people who had written them.”

”One thing everybody knew for certain was that the planet was in great danger and it was imperative that the manufactorum that orbits our planet be properly supplied so everyone got to work, it was difficult at first, without cogitators, but things quickly got back to an approximation of normal.”

The first minister pauses for a sip of water.
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Faith quirks up an eyebrow and brgins scribbling rapidly on her dataslate. MEanwhile, she has Nevermore fly a small circuit of the area to spy out what's going on.

Vormav waits patiently for the minister to continue. No sense in probing now, let them spill whatever information they will give willingly he would try to maneuver them from there if he could get one or two alone.

Rav monitors any vox traffic that they might be able to intercept from the Captain's shuttle craft, keeping everything running on low power so that it would be more easily used should the ship be needed in an emergency. He watched as the small bird lighted upon his computer console and pecked out a few letters. He was familiar with the bird, there was not much else like it aboard the Pious Lament. He chuckled when it finished it's hunt-and-peck method on the keyboard and shoo'd it away with a brush of his arm.

Searlait listens to the tales of woe that has befallen these poor unfortunates. "I see. Well whatever warp rift dragged your planet here could account for all of the psykers being killed as well as corrupting records, the whims of the Immaterium are beyond the kin of sane mortals. I'll have information on major changes within the wider Imperium compiled and direct it towards your offices." She says to the first part of his comment.

For the latter she leans onto the table and asks "What was the manufactorum supposed to be making, what resources did you need to go up and how do you send things up, we haven't seen any sub-orbital craft I believe."

The first minister considers Searlait’s question before going on, ”we really don’t know what the manufactorum is making, with records destroyed and memory being lost we can only guess, and current thoughts are that it is something to prevent the ‘disk’ which casts such a shadow on our lands. We were however left with an overwhelming sense of urgency, we all knew that the fate of the planet depended on our success.”

”The infrastructure remained in place, crops continued to be harvested, mines continued to be mined and the raw materials continued to be processed or loaded into the orbital capsules being produced. The laded capsules are launched in to orbit by a maglev rail gun situated on the equator and synchronised to the orbit of the manufactorum.”

”In spite of our efforts the disk grew rapidly and began to cast its shadow, as it increased crops began to fail, this just effected the equatorial regions initially but the shadow has grown now to cover the majority of the planet's fertile land, Demands from central government for supplies of foods and other cultivated materials has grown until we could no longer be met and the government has threatened totally unreasonable sanctions, and we have had to declare autonomy to protect ourselves. We still maintain production of food and materials as best we can, the food we divide evenly, our own people are heavily rationed. The government is not content and raids our warehouses and caravans whenever it can, we seek to defend them.”
.

It had taken some time to secure the requisite readings for the Inquisitional team and with such in hand and already disseminated to their august personages, there seemed no harm in sharing such with the other landing parties. Especially as such data was clearly under no particular burden of secrecy or censure according to her house, and her own, complicated relationship with the Holy Ordos. Her voice, as ever, was composed and soft with the distinct crackle of the vox distorting it as it seemed to do for nearly every soul who used such devices.

++Lady Captain, my fellow officers, while calendar data and other associated record keeping appears to be dreadful, the planet is in line with chronometric data pulled from the Astronomicon's light. An oddity, given it's lengthy disappearance.++

While there was nothing of... earth shattering information in such a simple transmission. The Navigatrix had still taken the due to care to work with the bridge teams handling such communications to ensure sound protection against malicious machine sprites and other such actors that might seek to intercept or disrupt. The necessary rites observed with the particular care of one used to the eccentricities of tech lore, at least in a laymen's sense.
This message was last edited by the player at 23:46, Fri 28 July 2023.

Searlait nods as the Minister talks, mentally tracking some of the various points. "This disk,  are you aware if it is super-orbital or sub-orbital?" she asks "We have seen it from a distance so far, I decided it was more important to establish contact first before exploring every facet of the System."

When the mention of sedition of the Northern Alliance she keeps her tongue on how the Imperium normally deals with it because the Alliance has kept up what could be considered the tithe and attempted to remain civil with their neighbours "What is the population of the Northern Alliance? I may be able to see if we can provide anything to assist matters regarding food and failing that we may be able to coordinate intelligence to counter raids, preferably peacefully"

Listening as Cennet voxes in She raises a hand an says ++Confirmed, thank you Navigatrix++

”We have a population of just under two point two billion,” the First Minister says, glancing left and right to get confirmation from his team.

Sorry, I’m not sure what you mean by super-orbital and sub-orbital, but Searlait would already know that the disk is in an orbit that keeps it between the planet and the system’s star so that it always casts a shadow, (probably not actually achievable in RL but I’m guessing it is quite high).

.

"Well our supplies wouldn't make much of dent into that unfortunately. However, once we sort out things here we can take the Pious Lament to investigate what the disk to determine what the disk is, I would accept a small delegation from your staff should you wish to have a liaison onboard, while we attempt to sort out planetary division then investigate the disk"
This message was last edited by the player at 17:35, Sun 30 July 2023.

Vormav inserts taps the table in thought and then chimes in. "Our supplies may not have a notable effect but the supplies here might be more efficiently distributed using our orbital resources. An army marches on it's stomach or something like that, what can you tell us about the ongoing conflict? Perhaps having orbital superiority could ease the strain on your supply lines?"

"What are you peoples military position in relation to that of the Gelron Primary? Manpower, vehicles, reserves, munitions, transportation, My Master of Arms will require a full breakdown and we will need to know if you possess any direct contact with any senior members of their leadership?"

Gregory does his best to look like he wasn't on the verge of falling asleep just now and adds with a smile, "Now of course, the best battle is one you don't have to fight, but optimism hasn't gotten us anywhere, no? That being the case, if we cannot convince them to make peace with words, we shall have to settle for the peace of the sword. Or the macrocannon battery, as it were. To that end, I'm interested in knowing about any airbases or artillery emplacements they might have so we can keep an eye on them."
This message was last edited by the player at 15:51, Sun 06 Aug 2023.

The exchange of personnel is organised and that coming aboard the Lament is headed up by Sir Damion Ply-Morrison, Commander in Chief of the GDA, (Gelron Defence Arm), and includes Clyro Flayer, to liaise with Vormav over resources distribution.

Searlait is provided with a detailed run down of the military situation. Gelron Primary have an armoured brigade, two infantry brigades two militia brigades and an air wing and they control the equatorial region and about half the land mass in the northern hemisphere. The locations of their air bases, strategic ammunition and promethean reserves, barracks and headquarters is provided for Gregory.

To oppose this the Northern Alliance has three armoured brigades (one skitari), one infantry brigade, an air wing and a wet navy and they control the north pole, large swaths of land in the northern hemisphere and the planets only ocean.
.

Searlait leaves Lieutenant Aminata Sesay and Ensigns Usapa Surakuni and Bahareh Colabewala as liaison duty for their side and made their way back to the ship, had the northern alliance personnel shown to their quarters as she makes her way to the bridge "The meeting we need to have with Gelron Primary will have to be postponed, get me contact with Magos Tesla, I want a Sit-rep and prepare to leave orbit, we need to investigate the disk."

There is a bustle of activity as the Captain and her entourage leave the meeting and head back to the void port to the return to the Pious Lament.

Back on board, all is well and Paklor Ank informs her that they have been able to track several of the salvation pods jettisoned from the Emperor’s Glory just before it jumped, there emergency bacons are off which makes them hard to locate, but there is only one destination for them to head for so he knows where to look.
.

The Captain recives a report from the Enginseer Prime, relayed through his gun cutter

++We have made peaceful contact with the command structure of the Manufactorum, further inquiries are pending. Personnel levels appear to be critical, with junior mech-wrights and lay personnel taking on responsibilities beyond their station. Starvation appears endemic and oversight of basic functions and security inadequate. There is tentative evidence of extensive psycho-conditioning, as yet unconfirmed.++
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As they return to the cutter Vormav speaks into his Vox

On the way back to the Lament, Gregory remarks, "Looks like the breachers won't be getting their time off after all," before ordering that a company of breachers and two more companies of the armsmen be armed and made ready for any battle action against the disk.

Searlait continuing towards the ships looks to Gregory Asgard and replies "Luckily for us not yet. Should things continue peacefully we may provide shore leave to some of the crew."

He sits back up straight when the Captain boards the ship and signals for the ships techpriest to patch in the transmission to the requested officer. When the others boarded behind her, Ravandio speaks out. "So I'm guessing things went well enough with their officials? Didn't detect any explosions or weapons fire," he said with a chuckle.

"It seems much of the planet's issues were caused by the inconvenient location or orientation of the orbital disc," Faith says, handing Rav a copy of the minutes she made of the meeting. "With luck, we can settle all this without violence. Much to the Master-of-Arms' disappointment?" she grins.

"Well, if there's anything I've learned over the years, it is that violence is always necessary," Gregory replies with a shrug.

"I mean, we can always hope it won't be, but hope is the first step on the road to disappointment and all that."

He took the pad with her notes on it and looked them over. "Wait a second..." Ravandio looked them all over again. "So they are both fighting over the reduction of their useable land mass because of what ever that thing is in space?" He shook his head and had to re-read it again to make sure he wasn't missing anything. "Aren't they both sending materials up to the manufactorum up in orbit? Is it not making the disk? Are they not contributing to their own eventual extinction? I've got to be missing something." Rav had already admitted once today that he wasn't a logistics man. He was just a pilot, but none of this was making sense.
This message was last edited by the player at 03:39, Wed 23 Aug 2023.

Vormav listens to the the others chatter "No, that is about the shape of it. Definitely odd."

He hops on the vox to make some other arrangements.

Gregory nods to Vormav, then begins giving instructions to the assaulters who came down with them as well as the penal crewmen who are mainly there to do manual labor.

The Captain receives another message from her Exploritor, relayed via the gunship.

++"Priority Alpha 1344 was used to produce a stellar shield to protect the inhabitable world of Gelron from a nearby Xenos conflict. The records imply a stellar nova but orbital mechanics render this improbable. A stellar flare of Gelron's primary seems more likely, given its emplacement and orientation*. One hundred and fifty three standard years ago, the stellar shield successfully protected the planet, but the manufactorum suffered extensive damage, erasing records and rendering mission-critical personnel inoperable. Since no survivor was capable of rescinding or modifying the Priority, construction has continued."++
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Taking a seat at vox station she has a message sent back ++See what you can do to have the order rescinded  or modified to help alleviate the situation, I plan on taking the Lament to the disk to determine what the status of it is and gather as much information as we can. I will also have Vormav work on getting supplies discontinued.++

She waits for a response then once done she heads off the cutter towards Vormav as he's gathering his resources and asks him to come aside. Once they are relatively separated she informs him of what Tesla has determined then adds "I'm leaving the Mukaali, Megara's Might, twenty security troopers, a cargo-8 and a staff car. See if you can convince them to stop sending materiel to space, advise them that the manufactorum had a loss of senior management and no longer require such extensive supplies and is actually detrimental. Is there anything else you need?"

Vormav walks off with the captain "The vehicles and crew should be sufficient I expect. In terms of sending resources to the manufactorum. That all seemed very odd to me. Almost a compulsion after the memory loss? I'm not certain they CAN stop but I'll make it a priority."

As the last of the leaving ships blasts off into the atmosphere leaving Vormav with a bunch of armsmen and a driver for his staff car, he is approached by a small group lead by a smartly dressed young man who he recognises as somebodies aid from the conference, as Vormav tries to remember his name and details the man saves him the effort by introducing himself.

”Mr Vormav,” he says with a smile as he holds out his hand, ”I’m Deacon, John Deacon, aid to Lemley Grace, the Minister of trade. I understand that you are staying with us for a while and I’m here to offer whatever assistance you need, accommodation office space, staff, contacts, data, just ask and we’ll do our best for you.”

”I have organised office space and accommodation for you and your people but it will take an hour or so to prepare, perhaps you’d like to wait in the canteen. Is there anything else you’d like?”

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Vormav scrapes a stray lock of hair out of his eyes as he turns to shake the hand of the new comer. "Pleasure to meet you Mister Deacon. The canteen seems like a fine place to start our afternoon."

He begins walking with Deacon "I have to admit my place here is rather irregular. But I've made my living on moving numbers around did your Minister have any particular area that they wished me to focus on first?"

Vormav isn't certain on the levels of security clearance for any of the staff or even if the information they were briefed on was classified or not.

Vormav spends a few hours in the canteen while his office space is organised but the time is not wasted with Deacon there to answer his questions. Before long he is ale to move in and the team dispatched by Emmerson arrives along with all the office machinery they might need.

The accommodation provided for him is, adequate, clean and spacious but the bed is not that comfortable and it’s all very plane.
.

Vormav sets his team to work. Starting with analytics. What is being sent where and how. Trying to establish and analyze supply lines and value chains. Surely enough work for his staff to occupy their time for ever but he prioritized getting an initial report as soon as possible.

He makes a request of whatever local liaison, Deacon or whoever replaces him, I want to meet with whoever is in charge of sending material into orbit.

***Prior to leaving***

Searlait moves to the cockpit and calls over Ravandio "Mr. Rathnyr I would like you to take a gun-cutter once we get back to the ship, your choice which and a small crew, scout the boarder regions but stay in Northern Alliance side by at least a kilometre, scan into Gelron Primary, don't initiate any conflicts but if you are engaged, try to to get out in one piece, but you can defend yourself. Repeat every couple of days until we return, check for movements, raids, full on assaults. Report findings to Mr. Vormav and he and his staff can relay the findings as need."

The request puts a thoughtful expression on Deacon’s face, ”the maglev launcher is on the equator and under the control of Gelron Primary, I believe Arch Bishop Miksza is the man you wish to talk to, it will not be easy under the current circumstances but might be possible. I will see what I can do.”

Deacon turns away and begins issuing orders to his staff.

May I have an awareness roll please.
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Vormav nods and allows the aide to leave as he returns to his duties.

OOC: 01:26, Today: Vormav rolled 60 -- 3 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 30.  Awareness.

After summoning the crew of his own Umbra 1 to join him on the gun-cutter, Ravandio would proceed with the mission laid out to him, patrol. It was primarily what he did aboard the Pious Lament, patrolling with his Wing around the vessel while they were in transit through normal space. He enjoyed the chance to spend time planet side, preferring it currently to floating around back in space. It had been too long since he'd spent any great deal of time surface-side.

When he'd been a pilot previous to being rescued by the former Lord Captain, may the Emperor rest his soul, it had all been atmospheric warfare. It hadn't been a vessel as large as this gun-cutter, but it certainly felt closer to home.

 Every 'comm currently linked to the senior crew of the Pious Lament chimes in complex five-part harmony at the same time before Jak - apparently backed by a large chunk of local authority - puts everyone into a shared conversation.

 "Explorator Tesla, Speaking for the Manufactorum Expedition. Successful recovery of command authority has been completed. Successful recovery of high-level records revealing the course of events that have influenced recent Gelron history has been completed. This is not merely not the original sector to which Gelron was assigned, it is also not its original star. In 4.918.99.M40, stellar instabilities were identified in its local star and all local authorities were committed to the constriction of a planetary defence system utilising Pattern 133A 771 STC 33090/b7, a borderline accepted pattern which appeared to includes Empyric circuitry in its construction. Confirmation of this circuitry was to be found when Gelrons local sun indeed underwent catastrophic expansion, causing the shield to activate and displace Gelron and the Manufactorum to this location. Due to the extreme forces this event caused, extensive loss of manufacturing assets including, but not limited to pattern data, construction records, all psychic personnel, many human memories and a statistically significant number of human lives were suffered."

 "The danger is now past. It will be possible to repurpose the Manufactorum and restore Gelron, but to do so will be a non-trivial task. A permanent Grand Magos will be needed to undertake the role. My recommendation is that the current Magos, who has spent significant time operating the station be raised to this position with Arius Draccius as his understudy and aide. My further recommendation is that Confessor Wells collaborate with other human-interface personnel on a broad announcement to local populations of the change in priorities only after a full assessment of what is needed to restore the system has been completed. I am standing by for alternative proposals."
This message was last edited by the player at 05:30, Sat 16 Sept 2023.

Some hours later Deacon enters the room and approaches Vormav directly, ”excuse me Sir, but there has been a development that I think you ought to know about, it seems that Gelron Prime have suffered some sort of military coup, details are very sketchy at the moment but I will let you know as they come.”
.

The small ship thunders across the landscape at 2,000 feet, in spite of the noise it’s not flying fast, this is a familiarisation flight and Ravandio is just getting to know the landscape. The area chosen is close to the borders at the nearest point to ‘Varcity’, the capital of Gelron and seat of the Gelron Prime government but that is two hundred miles away across the border and as long as he doesn’t cross it, the thunder hawk should be safe.

The main road between Gelron Prime and the Norther Alliance runs through here and at this low altitude Ravandio can see clearly see the lines of traffic in both directions and the make shift borders post where opposing troops where identical uniforms. Across the boarder there is a strange eery darkness in the distance where the star is eclipsed by the ‘disk’, only the edge can bee seen from here but the stunted and withered crops there are obvious by the change of colours in the landscape.

The border runs almost parallel to the equator here and is not marked on the ground apart from the tracks created by the military patrol vehicles on both sides of the imaginary line. As he moves East of the crossing point, over a small river, passed some farms where people in the fields give him a friendly wave, and over a small wooded cops, Ravandio notices white smoke rising into the sky from over the next ridge and soon passes over the wreckage of three military vehicles and twenty or more bodies scattered across a small gulley, they look to be Northern Alliance troops.
.

In reply to Deacon (msg # 82):

Vormav is elbows deep in paperwork looking like a mad man with strings running between cork boards with papers pinned to them. He rubs his temples and straightens his hair. "For all of the Emperor's love, do you know which faction took control? I suppose it hardly matters. Are your ministers concerned? Are we in danger? et cetera? We were already at war, typically there is only a coup if they wanted to fight harder or wanted to stop fighting.

I still need that meeting with your Arch Bishop. I have new information."

Vormav realized that his questions wouldn't likely have answers but with luck the man would keep them in mind for his next report.

***From the Pious Lament***

Openning a direct voxline to her forces on the planet she orders her vox to contact ++Master Rathnyr, I've received reports of possible saviour pods from the Emperor's Glory landing at the following co-ordinates, attempt a recce run, but priority is keep the bird as undamaged as possible, there has been a coup in Gelron Primary and we will be there as soon as possible and likely in combat stance++

Vormav is informed that communication links with Gelron Prime are not currently functioning and that they don’t know the current whereabouts of the Arch Bishop.
.

He saw the smoke immediately after his co-pilot saw the strange heat signature on the scanners. "Mark it," he said to his on co-pilot as he flew over the wreckage of some sort of attack far down below. Ravandio had started to circle back around and come in lower so that he could get some sort of idea about what had happened and maybe spot who had done it when his vox crackled and a message came through from the Lord Captain. He listened to the message relayed to him through his vox operator swears softly. His little recon mission down below will have to wait.

"Relay a message back to the Lord Captain. ++Acknowledged. Proceeding to coordinates immediately.++" Ravandio proceeded to climb altitude again and head towards the location that Searlait had sent to him.

With the Captain’s new instructions ringing in his ear, Ravandio does not stop to investigate the destroyed Northern Alliance patrol but can't help but notice that a very large military formation had passed this way very recently with scores, maybe even a hundred tracked vehicles involved.
.
This message was last edited by the GM at 11:03, Thu 21 Sept 2023.

Vormav is informed that General Peliaxe, head of the Northern Alliance armed forces, has dispatched all mobile units and every other unit he can find transport for, across the border to the orbital launcher, the first elements should arrive in about eight hours. He has also dispatched recognisance units to the area where salvation pods may have landed.
.

Vormav asks whoever brought him the message "Why would he do that? Can I meet with him? I may have delicate information that could inform his tactical decisions."

He keeps his cool but inside he is frantically working out the repercussions. Unless the launcher has some military use then this seemed like the exact kind of irrational action he expected to see of people who have spent years frantically working towards something without knowing why.

The guy, who Vormav has seen but doesn’t know, informs him that he believes the General is acting on a request from Lady Captain Saorise but is not certain. The General is already on the march but can be contacted by vox com.

After a few minuets a large field comms set is bought in and set on a table, Vormav is handed a hand set and through the static comes a grough but cheery voice, ”hello, this is Peliaxe, you are the Rogue Trader’s bean counter I believe, Vormav, is that right? What can I do for you my fine fellow?”
.

OOC: Can we retcon being in contact with the general. I figure I would get in contact with the Lord-Captain first and everything we talked about made this conversation moot.

Thinking on it and keeping in mind what the captain has told him Vormav is going to do some snooping around the records he was given access to he looks for anything unusual that would suggest the Northern alliance is hiding something from them, food disappearing to feed an unreported population, vehicles falling off the manifests, anything to suggest that this is all an elaborate ruse.

Vormav and his team dive deep into the available records, doing what they do best, the crunching of numbers, it takes time but it all adds up, they find a few minor discrepancies that can be put down to clerical error and suspect that someone in the canteen is not paying for their meals but there is nothing to point at any additional forces or cover ups.

Over the time it takes, things become very quiet here in the Northern Alliance capital, bare a few, all the Northern Alliance troops all of their vehicles and a good proportion of the civilian transport have gone. On the ground right now, from the Lament, there are three chimera, a staff car, two honour guard, (staff car drivers) and thirty-six assault troops, (the compliments for the cymeras), plus your own staff.

.

In the background, hardly audible, there are a series of whistles in descending pitch, the loud explosions that follow them, shaking the ground and causing dust to fall from the ceiling cannot be ignored, there are twenty in all, close to Vormav’s location but not on it, another sequence of whistle and explosions are followed volleys of small arms fire as around him, Vormav’s staff look around in alarm and his guards from the Lament, ready weapons.

The sergeant, approaches and salutes, ”sorry Sir, all comms are being jammed so I can't say what is going on, the rest of our contingent will be here in a moment.”
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Vormav watches out the window as the bombs start falling. When the sergeant gives his preliminary sit-rep he steps away "Establish a perimeter as best you can until the remaining squads join us. We don't owe these people anything so our safety is the primary concern. We are a third armed party in this conflict so until we link up with the local guard we are at an incredible risk of a deadly misunderstanding. Establish a scout detail and figure out what in the Emperor's name is going on!"

Not bombs but artillery shells, a battery of twenty howitzers firing a high trajectory, the target is the southern edge of the town. There are three salvos in all then massed firing of laser small arms but this is out of sight from Vormav’s window.

People are hurrying this way and that in the street outside, those in military uniform heading towards the gun fire, there are very few, and the others heading away from it.

The rest of the personnel from the Lament arrive in dribs and drabs, including the drivers there are twenty two armsmen dressed for combat, and a similar number of office staff, most of whom are armed in some way, some even have basic armour. The armsmen, lead by Sgt Bagley, are reassuringly professional, they have the doors and windows covered, one corporal has organised the office staff and had them construct an inner defence from upturned furniture.
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Vormav thinks a moment "Sergeant, with the skeleton crew that the northern alliance left here I expect the other factions are making a play. Where are our vehicles parked? They are the only heavy weapons we have access to and reasonably our greatest asset, correct?"

”The vehicles are all by the door sir,” the sergeant informs Vormav, ”Nunber one has a more sophisticated vox caster and we are trying to break through the jamming but no success as yet.”

”Sir, there is an officer approaching with a white flag,” a trooper calls from one of the windows, ”he’s wearing a different uniform, must be GDF.”

A young subaltern is standing about thirty feet away, holding a stick with some white fabric attached and looking pretty nervous.
.

Vormav peeks out, he was wary but he needed information "Bring him in, we need to know what is going on here." he says to his sergeant.

He stands ready for a fight. Pistol drawn and hell gun in it's ready position.

The young subaltern enters under guard, he looks very nervous, frightened even and does not seem to be carrying any weapons.

”I   I   I bring a mess,  a message Sir,”  he takes a deep breath before continuing with a little more fluency, ” Brigadier Clune apologises for the inconvenience and wants to assure you that you and your people are not in any danger, the GDF will not assault or even approach this building, however, he does ask you to remain here for the present as he can’t guarantee your safety otherwise.”
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Vormav looked the young officer up and down trying to determine if he had some sort of tell but he was unsuccessful. This was a sticky bit of business they weren't strictly beholden to this particular faction but then they were his hosts at the moment. He tells the man "Return to your superiors and tell them that I appreciate their consideration in this endeavor. I accept their terms and expect to meet with them at their earliest convenience once the fighting has stopped."

Once the man is safely out of earshot he turns to his sergeant "Plot us the best course out of here, get the men ready to load up, I don't trust these people and I would rather be out of the city rather than living by their good graces."

OOC: 22:49, Today: Vormav rolled 60 -- 4 degrees of failure using the Warhammer Test system with a target number of 15.  Scrutiny.

The chimeras and staff car could conveniently carry all the troops, Vormav and his three closest aids leaving nearly twenty additional personnel without a ride, these could squeeze in on peoples laps but it would be really tight and the chimeras could not fight if that were the case.

Vormav suddenly receives a splitting headache, the headache apologies for the intrusion but goes on to explain that it is actually the Astral Choir abord the Pious Lament communicating with his on behalf of the Captain and that help is on it’s way. It askes if there is any message he would like to relay back.
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This message was last edited by the GM at 05:45, Tue 24 Oct 2023.

Vormav is in the middle of assuring the staff that they will be safe where they are when he gets the telepathic call "Ow, Vormav here, advise on extraction point and any available sit rep. Current course is to use Lament military assets to vacate leave the city and stay mobile."

The pain of this comunication is intense and brings Vormav to his knees, much to the alarms of his staff, but a message does come back.


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