++ ROGUE TRADER LOG: 000001 ++
++ MESSAGE BEGINS ++
I admit it; I’ve never understood the need for these wretched logs until now. An exercise in vanity is all I thought they were and it’s all my father thought they were too… but I’m a big enough man to admit I was wrong and by the Emperor’s teeth I wish I wasn’t.
You see, I find myself compelled now to write these logs in light of the fact that my father refused to do so. It’s because of his disdain for these periods of captured thought, these “exercises in vanity and self adulation” I’m left sleepless at night, endlessly searching my memories for clues to his past that might aid our voyage and save us wandering perilously from system to system hoping to make sense of the madness left in the wake of his passing. There may be no apparent heir to the Varrick dynasty as yet but I’ll be damned if I’m going to inflict this same fate upon whoever follows me into this seat of power so knuckle down and prepare to read… I’ll be damned if I’m writing this for myself.
I’ve a lot to recap so I’ll try to be brief in what follows, you can consult the ships archives ++REFERENCE FILE NOT FOUND++ for technical specifics relating to our voyage since we left the core systems several months ago. Emperor help you if they’ve not survived this long.
It was something of a relief to finally leave my widowed mother and all the bureaucratic fallout from my father’s disappearance behind us as I took what was left of our wealth and headed back out to find my father’s body and reclaim what was rightfully ours. Once our friends in the administorum had ensured the safety of our dynasty and secured my mother’s position there was nothing more I could do anyway. Leaving was the only real option before me and as it turns out, the one that would prove to be the most worthy.
Once back out on the rim I met with one of my father’s old “friend”, Hiram Salt. Let me say now that I know Hiram well enough to say, that nobody will ever know him well enough to say much at all one way or the other. So when I tell you that he informed me the Varrick system had recently re-emerged from the warp - I was less than confident he was telling me out of any old remaining loyalties to my father. Regardless, at the time it was only a rumour and we spoke no more about it.
What was not a rumour was the location of a supposedly derelict hulk – ripe for salvage. My contact in the planetary guard ++CONSULT REFERENCE FILE SIGMAR341F ++ essentially set us up with a significant gain in both profit and crew for very little reward. If you’re reading this and have the chance, remember his actions and reward their family duly.
Taking the hulk was no cake walk however as time in the warp had left it tainted. Despite precautionary measures the taint affected our ship and on the return journey forced us towards a crystalline Xeno planet the likes of which has never been recorded by imperial forces, at least to my knowledge. Sensor readings and crew logs of the encounter have been stored in the family archives but not handed over to the xenophobic and somewhat fanatical central command.
The crew affected an escape from the planet and destroyed (we think) the chaos entity’s link to this plane while at the same time rescuing the crew of several stranded vessels and one freight ship – now in service to the dynasty. This was a good day.
We then headed to a supposed “Death world”, deposited our rescued shipmates and blasted our way through dense jungle until we found what we were after – the downed wreckage of a centuries old hunting ship my father once piloted. A ship that would eventually lead us to the Varrick system. Note: Hiram Salt’s pipe was found still warm on board the vessel before we vaporised it from orbit. I’m hoping we caught the man in the blast but news wires have been silent so I suspect not. Regardless, his involvement is worrisome.
The series of events that followed next were unnerving but I suspect all too common and only to be expected from now on; I think the crew and I will just have to get used to it.
Firstly we were attacked in the warp by impostors from another reality ++REFERENCE FILE KAPPA9J++
Then we encountered some Space marines ++REFERENCE FILE KAPPA9K++
Assisted them in battle with some impressive macrobattery blasts and a devastating boarding action ++REFERENCE FILE KAPPA9L++
And were rewarded with an incredible and sacred chapter relic ++REFERENCE FILE KAPPA9M++
All this has been documented elsewhere – meticulous records are being kept, I assure you.
Which all means I’ve ended up where we are today… the Varrick system, not currently as incredible as my father made it out to be seeing as it’s a place likely to be in or under the thrall of chaos. I believe however that it is going to play a key role in the success of our dynasty; to get this system up and running again, to purge it of the cultists laying it to siege and to once more make it a shining light of humanity in the dark cold recess of space must be our first priority… bold words indeed. I only hope that my crew and I are up to the task.
All of which brings you up to date dear reader. You find me about to head off to a state banquet in honour of our return home and despite the pomp and worthiness of it I can’t take my mind of the worries that seem to haunt my every waking hour - and it’s something I didn’t think I’d end up mentioning when I started this entry. It’s that I’m beginning to grow tired, incredibly tired; and much faster than I thought I would. I find myself issuing so many orders to so many people. I’m micro managing the whole affair and I’m afraid of what that could mean. That not only is it a symptom of me not wanting to endanger the ship – of losing the last jewel in the crown of my father’s legacy, but also…. I’m still deeply shaken by the battle in which I lost my father.
Everything that’s happened since that first encounter with the Eldar farseer... the burden that’s been placed on me. This destiny… this supposed purpose seems too important for me to entrust even a part of it on anyone else. But the truth is I am beginning to realise; if I don’t share the path with others the pressing weight of the task will surely damn us all before too long.
I must learn to let go. I have an excellent crew; all trusted and tested men who have sworn their allegiance to the house I lead. They are the best of the best and despite showing it every day and although I’m never short for examples of how true it is I find it hard to let go – to trust my … nay our fate in anyone else’s hands
++MESSAGE ENDS+++
Tuesday 25 May 2010
PHILEUS DASTHON JOURNAL 04-05-10
PHILEUS DASTHON JOURNAL
00:01:01
Today I have yet again side stepped fate from a life on a miserable transport that
can go about as fast as the emporer at a sprint, onto a new and fancy ship with
guns all over it! Should make the whole surviving thing a touch easier in the long
run I forsee. Not only have I been traded up onto this hoofing gun rack on
rockets, I get to bomb about on their gun cutter, which I’m glad to say stays in
theme with its mother ship, and appears to have limitless ammo and guns,
strapped to more rockets to make it move, with me strapped in the middle
making the whole behemoth go! It means I’ll have to get used to not pushing that
button on the top of the control column for the intercom at the risk of releasing a
healthy whack of its arsenal down the range, but the controls seem basic enough.
Anything seems simple compared to the ‘touch screen’ disaster that was the
Elyptic Sonic-‐Returnomator I had to test ages ago.
00:01:02
Not so hot though was selling a whole bunch of our mutie crew to slavers. Most
unhappy about this and I shall be having words with our captain at a later date
about it I’m sure. His slightly hypocritical manner unnerves me, but so long as he
makes sure I have a gun cutter strapped to me a most times, I can’t see myself
not being fond of him. The rest of the crew seem likable enough; there are no
church wackos, the mech-‐head is quiet and so long as he doesn’t get me to ‘test’
things I can se us getting along, and shooting and blowing things up seem to be
the method of choice here, so I should be right at home.
00:01:03
Visited a death world, t’was nice, must summer again here some time.
Apparently the local fauna are big and hostile, but I never saw any, so I’ll have to
pencil in a safari next time I’m on a break. Must remember my umbrella.
00:01:01
Today I have yet again side stepped fate from a life on a miserable transport that
can go about as fast as the emporer at a sprint, onto a new and fancy ship with
guns all over it! Should make the whole surviving thing a touch easier in the long
run I forsee. Not only have I been traded up onto this hoofing gun rack on
rockets, I get to bomb about on their gun cutter, which I’m glad to say stays in
theme with its mother ship, and appears to have limitless ammo and guns,
strapped to more rockets to make it move, with me strapped in the middle
making the whole behemoth go! It means I’ll have to get used to not pushing that
button on the top of the control column for the intercom at the risk of releasing a
healthy whack of its arsenal down the range, but the controls seem basic enough.
Anything seems simple compared to the ‘touch screen’ disaster that was the
Elyptic Sonic-‐Returnomator I had to test ages ago.
00:01:02
Not so hot though was selling a whole bunch of our mutie crew to slavers. Most
unhappy about this and I shall be having words with our captain at a later date
about it I’m sure. His slightly hypocritical manner unnerves me, but so long as he
makes sure I have a gun cutter strapped to me a most times, I can’t see myself
not being fond of him. The rest of the crew seem likable enough; there are no
church wackos, the mech-‐head is quiet and so long as he doesn’t get me to ‘test’
things I can se us getting along, and shooting and blowing things up seem to be
the method of choice here, so I should be right at home.
00:01:03
Visited a death world, t’was nice, must summer again here some time.
Apparently the local fauna are big and hostile, but I never saw any, so I’ll have to
pencil in a safari next time I’m on a break. Must remember my umbrella.
Journal of Malachai Orden 19-05-10
+++The journal of Malachai Orden.+++ FILE RECOVERED+++
Another few chronosegments spent chasing the commander’s past. I had privately wished that he would leave me uninvolved – I have little regard for my own family ties, but I owe Darrius my loyalty and have pledged to follow that man into the Eye of Terror itself. Not that our current trajectory puts us in that direction, but then he is a man ruled by impulse and prone to make a decision with little regard to the safety of the ship.
We travelled to some backwater death world after an obscure hint about some relic or other belonging to his father. Now there was a man to respect! The very name of Daddius Varick conjures such images in my mind. As close a thing to a hero as I can conceive. Although I never met him, he is practically a legend of the Imperium. And I expect he would never have asked me to run the entire ship in the way that Darrius does.
I was forced to sit quietly by as he brought on yet more strains on the ship’s resources and my patience in the form of a new seneschal and a pilot who’s as likely to take us into an asteroid field as lose us in the Warp. Emperor’s name, why does Darrius find himself so unable to simply say “no” to people? And the heresies that Seneschal committed! Tearing that valuable information from the wreck on the planet without so much as a litany to the Great Machine (who must be thought of in all things)! A lesser man would have abandoned the work there and then as futile but I admit that my… indoctrination on Mars no longer holds the sway it did. I even find myself occasionally skipping the summary use of incense when making minor repairs. In fact, I find myself less attuned to the Great Machine and his work in the universe just as even the Emperor himself no longer fills my thoughts. I wonder if it is some function of interstellar distance from the Sol system.
Suffice it to say, I had to repair the ship’s gun cutter again. Apparently damaged by the planet’s corrosive acid rain. I do wish that Varick would take greater care of my equipment. Hmm, this marks another journal entry edging dangerously close to heresy. I shall have to delete it like the others and replace it with more praise for the commander’s actions. I wonder, am I too free spirited for this ship too? I know my… lack of regard for, shall we say, conventional mechanical thinking was enough to bar me from the Mechanicus and it was only House Varick’s intervention that saved me from facing death or… conversion to work as a servitor. I can never risk my blasphemies facing the light of day for even out here there are many spies and there will always be those who will ignore true mechanical talent instead simply chanting and bashing damaged equipment with hammers. Innovation has no place in my line of work. I must continue to hold my peace, even with Varick and the others. And I must delete this file.
+++ MESSAGE ENDS+++
Another few chronosegments spent chasing the commander’s past. I had privately wished that he would leave me uninvolved – I have little regard for my own family ties, but I owe Darrius my loyalty and have pledged to follow that man into the Eye of Terror itself. Not that our current trajectory puts us in that direction, but then he is a man ruled by impulse and prone to make a decision with little regard to the safety of the ship.
We travelled to some backwater death world after an obscure hint about some relic or other belonging to his father. Now there was a man to respect! The very name of Daddius Varick conjures such images in my mind. As close a thing to a hero as I can conceive. Although I never met him, he is practically a legend of the Imperium. And I expect he would never have asked me to run the entire ship in the way that Darrius does.
I was forced to sit quietly by as he brought on yet more strains on the ship’s resources and my patience in the form of a new seneschal and a pilot who’s as likely to take us into an asteroid field as lose us in the Warp. Emperor’s name, why does Darrius find himself so unable to simply say “no” to people? And the heresies that Seneschal committed! Tearing that valuable information from the wreck on the planet without so much as a litany to the Great Machine (who must be thought of in all things)! A lesser man would have abandoned the work there and then as futile but I admit that my… indoctrination on Mars no longer holds the sway it did. I even find myself occasionally skipping the summary use of incense when making minor repairs. In fact, I find myself less attuned to the Great Machine and his work in the universe just as even the Emperor himself no longer fills my thoughts. I wonder if it is some function of interstellar distance from the Sol system.
Suffice it to say, I had to repair the ship’s gun cutter again. Apparently damaged by the planet’s corrosive acid rain. I do wish that Varick would take greater care of my equipment. Hmm, this marks another journal entry edging dangerously close to heresy. I shall have to delete it like the others and replace it with more praise for the commander’s actions. I wonder, am I too free spirited for this ship too? I know my… lack of regard for, shall we say, conventional mechanical thinking was enough to bar me from the Mechanicus and it was only House Varick’s intervention that saved me from facing death or… conversion to work as a servitor. I can never risk my blasphemies facing the light of day for even out here there are many spies and there will always be those who will ignore true mechanical talent instead simply chanting and bashing damaged equipment with hammers. Innovation has no place in my line of work. I must continue to hold my peace, even with Varick and the others. And I must delete this file.
+++ MESSAGE ENDS+++
Sunday 23 May 2010
Lazarus' Journal - 23-05-10
Having received the co-ordinates of the Varrick system, a system that our rogue trader dynasty had a claim to as our rogue trader's birthright, we entered the warp for what should have been a short hop. However a phenomena struck after a few hours; crew members started complaining of headaches, some even collapsing and entering a catatonic state. During this, I detected a psychic phenomena nearby, that of a mirror ship of ours. A double of myself entered telepathic conversation with me, confirming their ship was too in jeopardy. The situation of there jeopardy was different; murder servitors gone berserk, attacking the tech priests. Also, whilst there crew held similar names to ours, most people seemed to be in different roles. A parallel universe perhaps ? We may never know.
The Navigator was the first to detect an additional peril, a "false reality" shard that would spell doom for our ship. With our chief helmsman down, the Pilot Philleus took control of the helm and with a judder and a groan the ship steered clear of the phenomena. My "double" protested that the opposite approach was the advice from their navigator, but the supposition here was that such an action would annihilate us and leave them undamaged. Perhaps our actions caused the opposite effect, and I have just doomed a copy of myself by saving ourselves. But such is the universe - survival of the individual is key, even above the potential life of other versions of "me".
Dropping out of warp for checks or repairs, I sent a communication to nearby systems to see if other ships had picked up similar disturbances in the warp. A reply came back from a nearby system, only a few minutes later from a ship that turned out to be an antiquated Blood Raven vessel run by Brother Helix. With engine difficulties, we decided to respond to the distress call and offer assistance, seeking profit from the situation as always. The marines who greeted us were bluff and accepted the parts offered. Meanwhile, our new Seneshal got "lost" around the ship, and acquired a data slate detailing the relics the marines had uncovered - some dreadnoughts, one of which had shown malfunction of an unknown kind. Further information on the slate was encoded, but applying the cryptology knowledge gleaned in my imperial training, I managed to apply a trap-door algorithm and decrypted an image of one of the dreadnoughts with the armor plating burst through FROM THE INSIDE...
We dropped from warp into the Archonus Prime system, and straight into a war between the inhabitants and a cluster of Space Ork "Rokks", planets turned to vessels and driven into violent conflict. Our vessel changed course and shot down at the main planet, using suppressing fire to cover our broadside maneuver. Pulling around to the opposite side of the planet, Darrius led a hit and run assault, piloted in by Philleus and sent in waves of servitors and guardsman to disable the Ork sensors and start fires. Returning from the hit and run maneuver, another battery round tore a large chunk from the Rokk and left in crippled. Shortly, the orbiting smaller planets collided into the ruined and fragmented central Rokk, and with Ork bodies drifting out into the steller void, the Ork vessels were destroyed.
We continued to the final destination, where Brother Helix thanked our forces for the assistance, and resumed our journey toward Varrick Prime. As reward, we received a relic shaped like a eagles talon, part of a power armour suit and of an item of great value. Arriving at the Variick system, vox traffic greeted us and a older, bald bearded man known as Tal greeted us. He recognized Darrius' face as familiar, thinking him to be his father and bidded us to come to the moon "svard" and meet with the council. This council - the crystal council - were to meet us for discussions. The planet overall was quite poor, hungry beggars trying to get scraps of food or heat from our resources. At the council, Speaker Tal told us that they had been cut off from trade and trapped out here, and were in a state of despair. The council told us of several people in the populous having dreams of a massive presence, huge and dark. All those who had this vision awoke somehow altered, murderous - a "whisperer" as they were known. This condition had struck on all of the other moons in the last month, to the extent that svard had lost contact with all of them. Alone, the Icy worn planet were struggling to survive, and requested aid. Initially this would take the form of food, but shortly we would try and regain control of these moons, get to the bottom of the whisperer outbreak, and restore the system to it's former economic glory.
An interrogation of one of the whisperers yeilded he was crazed and uncooperative. Using a mental probe, we discovered his name was Tok, and he had murdered friends and loved ones all thinking he was doing the will of the God Emperer. Before I could dig closer for hidden memories, an outside force pulled the grip away, and robbed me of my chance to explore further. Tok gasped from what appeared to be a coronary attack, and his life was perhaps saved by Darrius ordered the geller field made active, breaking the link from whatever entity may have caused it. With Tok passed out, no further investigations could be made. We then proceeded to a banquet in our honor, to meet other members of the planet council and to further understand the extent of the whisperer problem upon the Varrick system, and the moon of Svard...
The Navigator was the first to detect an additional peril, a "false reality" shard that would spell doom for our ship. With our chief helmsman down, the Pilot Philleus took control of the helm and with a judder and a groan the ship steered clear of the phenomena. My "double" protested that the opposite approach was the advice from their navigator, but the supposition here was that such an action would annihilate us and leave them undamaged. Perhaps our actions caused the opposite effect, and I have just doomed a copy of myself by saving ourselves. But such is the universe - survival of the individual is key, even above the potential life of other versions of "me".
Dropping out of warp for checks or repairs, I sent a communication to nearby systems to see if other ships had picked up similar disturbances in the warp. A reply came back from a nearby system, only a few minutes later from a ship that turned out to be an antiquated Blood Raven vessel run by Brother Helix. With engine difficulties, we decided to respond to the distress call and offer assistance, seeking profit from the situation as always. The marines who greeted us were bluff and accepted the parts offered. Meanwhile, our new Seneshal got "lost" around the ship, and acquired a data slate detailing the relics the marines had uncovered - some dreadnoughts, one of which had shown malfunction of an unknown kind. Further information on the slate was encoded, but applying the cryptology knowledge gleaned in my imperial training, I managed to apply a trap-door algorithm and decrypted an image of one of the dreadnoughts with the armor plating burst through FROM THE INSIDE...
We dropped from warp into the Archonus Prime system, and straight into a war between the inhabitants and a cluster of Space Ork "Rokks", planets turned to vessels and driven into violent conflict. Our vessel changed course and shot down at the main planet, using suppressing fire to cover our broadside maneuver. Pulling around to the opposite side of the planet, Darrius led a hit and run assault, piloted in by Philleus and sent in waves of servitors and guardsman to disable the Ork sensors and start fires. Returning from the hit and run maneuver, another battery round tore a large chunk from the Rokk and left in crippled. Shortly, the orbiting smaller planets collided into the ruined and fragmented central Rokk, and with Ork bodies drifting out into the steller void, the Ork vessels were destroyed.
We continued to the final destination, where Brother Helix thanked our forces for the assistance, and resumed our journey toward Varrick Prime. As reward, we received a relic shaped like a eagles talon, part of a power armour suit and of an item of great value. Arriving at the Variick system, vox traffic greeted us and a older, bald bearded man known as Tal greeted us. He recognized Darrius' face as familiar, thinking him to be his father and bidded us to come to the moon "svard" and meet with the council. This council - the crystal council - were to meet us for discussions. The planet overall was quite poor, hungry beggars trying to get scraps of food or heat from our resources. At the council, Speaker Tal told us that they had been cut off from trade and trapped out here, and were in a state of despair. The council told us of several people in the populous having dreams of a massive presence, huge and dark. All those who had this vision awoke somehow altered, murderous - a "whisperer" as they were known. This condition had struck on all of the other moons in the last month, to the extent that svard had lost contact with all of them. Alone, the Icy worn planet were struggling to survive, and requested aid. Initially this would take the form of food, but shortly we would try and regain control of these moons, get to the bottom of the whisperer outbreak, and restore the system to it's former economic glory.
An interrogation of one of the whisperers yeilded he was crazed and uncooperative. Using a mental probe, we discovered his name was Tok, and he had murdered friends and loved ones all thinking he was doing the will of the God Emperer. Before I could dig closer for hidden memories, an outside force pulled the grip away, and robbed me of my chance to explore further. Tok gasped from what appeared to be a coronary attack, and his life was perhaps saved by Darrius ordered the geller field made active, breaking the link from whatever entity may have caused it. With Tok passed out, no further investigations could be made. We then proceeded to a banquet in our honor, to meet other members of the planet council and to further understand the extent of the whisperer problem upon the Varrick system, and the moon of Svard...
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