“Give a man a mask and he will show his true face”
by Orcar Wilde – Ancient Terran illuminator
The Masked King
“BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY
THE GOD-EMPEROR OF TERRA
SEQUESTERED INQUISITORIAL DOSSIERS
AUTHORISED PERSONS ONLY
CASE FILE 357:20U:JL77:SNK
Please enter your authority code > • • • • • • • • • • • • • •
Thank you, inquisitor. You may proceed.”
To whom it may concern, a communiqué
Carried by Guild Astropathica (Terran) via meme-wave 309~a.777 triple intra
Origin: Thracian Primaris, Helican Sub 81281 origin date: 142.16.M42
(relayed: divergent M-12/Ostall VII)
Received: Alabaster, Cadia U08, Helican 3388, Obscura 23, Terra 52981, Titan: reception dates: 133-159.771.M41
Transcripts carried and logged as per header
(redundant copy filed buffer 4675 key 20)
Author: Lord Inquisitor Pelagius
Master of the Ordo Hereticus,
Inquisition High Council Officio, Terra
Bothrops Nummifer the Twentieth, Rogue Trader, (Dossier attached)
Capture at all cost. Exterminate if unable to. Erase all assets.
Inquisitor Inson, the Ordo Scriptorium, (Dossier attached)
Exterminate. Without Ordo trace.
Caius Celestine Pelagius
Curse of the Alabaster
Venerable composer of Sumptowns and Dystopia, Shibboleth of the city of Angels has invited Weirdingway, Killing Cold (of between bolter and me) and me to join his Los Angeles =I=munda group for what should undoubtedly be the most epic Inq28/Necromunda/Blanchitsu-vibed event the United States has ever seen.
Knowing Shibboleth, the Terrain will be crazy good and playing on it an absolute, genuine privilege. This is also the first time I participate in an event, campaign, thing like this, were I have zero organizational responsibilities (thank Emperor, still running on fumes from Pilgrym). The Pilgrym Agents are still in Nottingham for secret missions, so need to make something new. Time to just enjoy a creation of a small group of exquisite miniatures. And to imagine a wicked story line.
“Imagine a Black Ship, filled with psykers collected under a Letter of Marque by a mad Rogue Trader family, separate from the Navigators guild. Things are played loose and dangerously. And one trip, en route, the geller fields fail, and horrible possibilities enter their reality. Thousands die in the ensuing violence onboard, as the crew desperately tries to fight the chaos unleashed.
they pull closer to an industrial world, the nearest port from this storm, looking for respite. The navigator is killed in the conflict and the ship emerges from the warp into realspace with horrible miscalculation. It shatters into large sections, each emerging suddenly within a massive industrial hive spire.
The days, weeks, and months following are utter madness.
Psykers who survive the crash spill into the hive, bringing chaos. Nobles eager to hunt for new slaves for their service and pleasures. Precinct Arbites desperately trying to restore some semblance of order within their regions. Martial Law. Hive gangs of all sizes, colors, and goals jockeying for position with the new power imbalance. Salvage teams, scrappers, entering the ruins to gain rare technologies, seeking to strip the ship of valuables. Mercenaries descending into the industrial sump wastes seeking to catch psykers for the bounties on their heads. Inquisitors sent to clean up the mess…. ”
Bothrops Nummifer the Twentieth, Rogue Trader, first WIP look at his person and court.