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“Oi! Don’t drink that!”

You slap the glass of water from your nephew’s hand as he sits at his throne. He gives you a confused look as the glass smashes on the ground, and you move to the pitcher of water and toss it to the ground as well.

“I told you!” you explain. “You can only trust the three of us in this room… and your grandmother, Archimedes and your wife, of course. Actually I’m not sure on the wife.”

Connery sighs. “That’s very interesting, Mr. Rhodes. One issue… I poured that water for Lord Shao.”

You pause. “Oh… whoops.”

Marco gives a small smile. “Uncle Tony… I do appreciate your caution, but in this situation it would be best if we remain calm and collected.”

Marco Shao… the son of your late sister, and the would-be emperor… if there was still an empire. Still, he’s a figurehead who carries a lot of authority and importance, while you… well, you’re his uncle. You have no blood connection to the last emperor. You simply are connected by a marriage. Still, Marco has always treated you well, along with his grandmother Cass.

You look to Marco, now a man in his early twenties. You remember when he was nothing more than a baby. He’s grown so much, while you’ve barely changed since you were the age he is now. You still remember that day… the last thing your sister ever said to you. She made you promise you would take proper care of him. A strong request, but a fair one. For her? For your family? You would have done all you could to live up to the responsibility.

But you didn’t.

You instead spent those days in open space, travelling, fighting and whoring about, letting others take care of the last family you even have. Because you were nothing more than a reckless fool, a coward. And now is your chance to live up to what you failed to do in the past.

You carry your anchor by your side as Marco addresses you. “You say advisers are scheming. Which one? The NOAH has ten prominent advisers.”

“I don’t know,” you explain. “The messages I intercepted were scrambled at best. Could be one, could be all of them. But there is definitely a plot. Come on nephew, isn’t there any who are particularly untrustworthy?”

Marco shakes his head. “A plot is difficult to believe. These men served my father, most served my grandfather… I’ve known them since they were children.”

“That means nothing,” Kilroy points out. “I don’t think you really know what anyone’s thinking.”

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Connery nods. “It’s true that your recent changes in policy in response to the Yellow Turban rebellion could have proven… unpopular among them.”

“But why?” Marco asks. “My changes were in the name of helping the people, alleviating their misfortune!”

Kilroy scoffs. “Wow, my lord. Are you really that naive? Do you think those policies you tore down were put up by accident? The advisers set them up in the first place for one simple reason. The people’s loss is their gain. You cracking down and reversing that is not going to endear you to them.”

“They supported my decision,” Marco notes.

“To your face, not behind your back,” you point out.

“They aren’t corrupt, and they certainly wouldn’t be conspiring to murder!” Marco protests.

You sigh. “You’ve got a good heart, but you’re way too naive and trusting.”

Kilroy nods, as he looks at his nails. “Which reminds me. How can we be certain that we can trust you, Mr. Rhodes?”

“Are you kidding?” you ask.

Kilroy shakes his head. “No, I mean it. You come in here, telling us that we can’t trust anyone but you… seems awfully suspicious, don’t you think?”

>I’m his family! I wouldn’t go against my own nephew!
>If I was really conspiring, what sense would it make to give a forewarning? Think, idiot.
>You’re hardly the most trustworthy person yourself.

>>3560228
>If I was really conspiring, what sense would it make to give a forewarning? Think, idiot.
Looks like it's time for 4D chess.

>>3560228
>>If I was really conspiring, what sense would it make to give a forewarning? Think, idiot.
Oh shit! I wasn't expecting Rhodes POV

>>3560228
>If I was really conspiring, what sense would it make to give a forewarning? Think, idiot.
So what are the chances that we're actually a sleeper agent or something?

>>3560228
>>If I was really conspiring, what sense would it make to give a forewarning? Think, idiot.

Calling for
>If I was really conspiring, what sense would it make to give a forewarning? Think, idiot.

Writing now.

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>If I was really conspiring, what sense would it make to give a forewarning? Think, idiot.

"You could be trying to throw us off the scent," Kilroy points out. "Force us to let down our security, then stab poor Marco in the back while it's turned."

You shake your head and let out a grunt. "If I truly wanted to do that, I would just walk up and fight him. It's not like I would lose."

Kilroy smirks as he steps between you and Marco. "Not with me around you wouldn't. I'm Lord Shao's most elite bodyguard, and if you even so much as moved I would suck you into a black hole so fast you wouldn't have time to think before you became nothing."

"Please refrain from threatening the Lord's family," Connery tells him.

Kilroy looks over to the old regent. "I'm simply stating my skills. It's for that very same reason that no harm will befall Lord Shao while the magnificent Kilroy is... is..."

Kilroy clutches his stomach in pain, before hunkering over. "Oh... oh dear..." he mutters while straining.

"What's wrong?" you ask. "Did you drink something?"

Kilroy falls to a knee, gasping for air. "No! I... I mean, I did have some of my afternoon shandy, how could I not? A serving girl brought it to... to..."

Kilroy collapses, and Marco springs up from his throne, as Connery attends to Kilroy. "Good lord..." Connery mutters. "The pale skin, the look in the bags of his eyes... Kilroy's been poisoned, no doubt about it. He needs medical assistance."

"Now do you believe me?" you ask.

Marco looks you dead in the eyes and nods. "I understand the threat at hand," he states. "My bodyguard is down... hopefully not dying. With him out of the picture, an assassin could see me as a sitting duck."

"But they didn't count on your uncle being here!" you boast, holding up your anchor. "I'll keep you safe! Me and my biochip!"

Name: Antonio Rhodes
Biochip Class: HEAVYWEIGHT

Antonio’s Biochip causes everything within a 5m radius of his anchor’s tip to be hit with a field of pressure, greatly increasing their weight.

POWER: B
SPEED: D
DURABILITY: C
PRECISION: C
RANGE: C
POTENTIAL: D

"And what exactly is your plan?" Marco points out. "We don't know for certain that there is a hitman in waiting. For all we know, poisoning our drinks was their only plan."

"They wouldn't rely on something so imprecise," you explain. "Believe me, I've dealt with hitmen."

"And your solution?" Connery asks?

>Stick close to my nephew. I'm going to scout the area.
>If they're hiding in this room... I can apply pressure to the right spot, draw them out.

>>3560280
>>If they're hiding in this room... I can apply pressure to the right spot, draw them out.

>>3560280
>>If they're hiding in this room... I can apply pressure to the right spot, draw them out.

>>3560280
>If they're hiding in this room... I can apply pressure to the right spot, draw them out.
Crush everything

>>3560280
>Stick close to my nephew. I'm going to scout the area.

Calling for
>If they're hiding in this room... I can apply pressure to the right spot, draw them out.

Roll 1d20, Best of 1.

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>3560306

>>3560308
You motherfucker.

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>>3560308

>>3560308
What have you done?

>>3560312
>>3560315
>>3560316
It can't be that bad.

Right?

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>1 (CRITICAL FAILURE)

You swing your anchor around, tossing it to the ground around the throne room. The radius is activated, and everything within it will feel a great pressure upon them increasing their weight. If there's a gunman hiding in here, they'll be pulled down by the weight and you can suss out their location. You activate your ability... but nothing.

"Dammit..." you mutter. "I'll try a different patch of the room. There could be someone up in the rafters, I'll pull them down."

You pull in your anchor, and begin to swing it around again... until a shot goes off while you're open and vulnerable, blaster fire piercing your shoulder and causing you to fall back.

"Uncle!" Marco cries out in fear, pushing forward to check on you... but that only place him in the line of fire.

"Marco, NO!" you scream, but it's too late. The blaster fire goes off from the sniper, heading straight for Marco... only to take a diversion. It was fast, but you noticed it. A butterfly, a blue one, from Connery's biochip power. It connects two butterflies to different objects, then pulls them together with magnets. But... there's no way he could attach both to something tangible in time to stop the bullet... unless...

You look, and you see it. With no time to place the second butterfly anywhere else, Connery redirected the shot to himself. Bleeding from his stomach, the old man gasps. "L-lord Shao, please do be more careful..." he mutters, before collapsing.

"NO!" Marco yells. "RAINMAKER!"

What? Marco waves his arms, as hydro jets of water fire from his arms in the direction of the gunman. His Biochip... you had no idea he was finally able to use it. He truly has grown... far more responsible than you were at his age. The gunman is knocked off their perch, their assassination attempt unsuccessful. Instantly, they make a break for it.

"Can you move?" Marco asks you with authority.

"Yeah..."

"Then follow him!" Marco commands. "I have to ensure Connery doesn't bleed out... and Kilroy doesn't die from his poisoning... this is a difficult situation..."

Yeah, you can say that again.

You get back to your feet and chase down the gunman. "Get back here!" you yell, though something tells you they aren't going to listen to that request. Maybe you were just hoping to alert someone to tackle the assassin. "Dammit..." you mutter, you're not fast enough to catch them... unless...

>Use your anchor to weight them down and slow their movement.
>Increase the weight of the ceiling lights ahead of the assassin, causing them to collapse and block their path.

>>3560348
>>Use your anchor to weight them down and slow their movement.

>>3560348
>>Increase the weight of the ceiling lights ahead of the assassin, causing them to collapse and block their path.
COOONNERRRYYYY NOOOOOOO

>>3560348
>Increase the weight of the ceiling lights ahead of the assassin, causing them to collapse and block their path.
Well shit

>>3560348
>>Increase the weight of the ceiling lights ahead of the assassin, causing them to collapse and block their path.

>>3560348
>Use your anchor to weight them down and slow their movement.
Hopefully the dice are kinder to us this round

Calling for
>Increase the weight of the ceiling lights ahead of the assassin, causing them to collapse and block their path.

Roll 1d20, Best of 2.

Rolled 8 (1d20)

>>3560387
AAAAAAAA

Rolled 1 (1d20)

>>3560387
Please don't fuck up this time

Rolled 13 (1d20)

>>3560387

>>3560394
STOP ROLLING YOU FUCK

>>3560394
I hate you.

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>>3560394
What are the fucking chances?

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>8 [MODERATE FAILURE]

You launch your anchor forward, ahead of the gunman, and activate the pressure. Your ability causes the ceiling lights above the anchor to become massively more heavy, to the point that they pull down the roof, causing it to collapse in on itself. Perfect, now the assassin's path is blocked and they have nowhere to go. Sure, there's a balcony railing to your side to the fleet streets below, but it's a long drop. They can't just leap from there without expecting to plummet to their death.

The assassin does exactly that.

"Hey, wait you bastard!" you yell as the gunman leaps over the railing. What the hell, does he intend to take the secret of his hiring to the grave? Or does he expect death already since he couldn't complete the mission?

Your confusion is assuaged when you see the gunman floating back up on a hoverbike. Damn, so he had a getaway vehicle at the ready? Screw that!

You swing your anchor as it latches onto the bike... pulling you with it over the railing. You hold on tight, hanging beneath the hoverbike, clinging to the chain, at the end of it your anchor plunged into the back of the bike as it rides above the streets. The gunman looks down and shakes his head. He probably didn't expect you to be this tenacious. The gunman pulls out a blaster pistol and fires below at you while trying to keep his eyes ahead to avoid a crash. You shift your weight to swing the chain, pulling yourself out of the way of the fire. But you're no good in this position alone, you need to act on it, follow up or this gunman will be getting away.

>Weigh down the bike to pull you down to the ground.
>Climb up the chain and take control from the gunman.

>>3560429
>>Weigh down the bike to pull you down to the ground.
DTVggVbC, stop rolling.

>>3560429
>>Climb up the chain and take control from the gunman.
Can't fuck it up this time, right?

>>3560429
>>Weigh down the bike to pull you down to the ground.
AAARGHHHH

>>3560429
>Weigh down the bike to pull you down to the ground.
Guys please, we all know 3rd time's the charm

>>3560429
>Weigh down the bike to pull you down to the ground.
Certainly one hell of a debut for Antonio it seens

Calling for
>Weigh down the bike to pull you down to the ground.

Roll 1d20, Best of 2.

Rolled 2 (1d20)

>>3560442

Rolled 9 (1d20)

>>3560442
3rd time guys

>>3560446
>>3560448
Man, the dice really don't like Antonio

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>9 [MODERATE FAILURE]

You can't climb up the chain with him firing on you like this... but you can attempt something risky. You activate your anchor's radius, as the bike suddenly feels a great pressure and weight. Its starts to drop from its position, and the gunman loses control of the vehicle. This is it, the bike is slowly moving down... once you hit the ground you can grapple the gunman and take them-

The gunman crashes into the wall, and the hoverbike's engine explodes.

It's a long drop down, as you hear a crunch in you back upon impact. Even worse is the metal plate from the bike that lands square upon your left arm. You manage to push away the massive hunk of metal... but yep, that arm is definitely broken.

You rise to your feet and examine the passenger seat of the crash wreckage. The gunman sits hunched forward. You place your free hand on his shoulder, and as you pull him back his head flies back limp, with no resistance. Concerned, you check his pulse.

That man is dead. The secrets of his hiring taken to the grave.

"Dammit!" you yell, kicking the busted hull. "SHIT AND DAMMIT! AND... AND FUCK!"

You don't know what you're yelling, you were never that bright. But you do know you've failed to get to the bottom of this conspiracy. You've failed your nephew yet again.

>Several days later

You sit in the council meeting in the throne room, your arm in a sling. Connery and Kilroy survived their incidents, though they're still banged up in hospitals. Lesser men would have died... Kilroy especially shocked you when you learned of the extent of his poisoning. His boasts about being invincible may not be so exaggerated, you think.

You hang your head low, dripping with failure and shame. Marco almost died because you couldn't help him in time, and you could do nothing to get answers out of the assassin. And you broke your arm to boot. Now you sit here in a room with Marco, his grandmother, and ten separate advisers, knowing in your heart of hearts that at least one of them conspired for this to happen.

"Care for a biscuit, dear?" Cass Shao asks, smoking on her pipe while she offers you a snack in the boring meeting. The grandmother of your lord and nephew, you sister's mother-in-law, your... well, nothing. You have no true connection to the Shao family, and you once used that as an excuse to ditch them and pursue your own pleasures. These days, you would do anything to feel like you belonged with them. With this kindly old woman and her noble grandson in a cruel Galaxy.

"No thank you," you reply. "I've been trying to keep a well-regulated diet."

"A little biscuit won't ruin that!" Cass Shao laughs. "I remember when you would raid my pantries the rare time you'd visit. You would think that you had a bottomless stomach!"

The atmosphere isn't conducive to laughing, but Cass keeps her spirits high. "I don't see how you could laugh at a time like this," you grunt. "Your grandkid almost got his head blown off because we couldn't protect him."

"I still see a head on those shoulders," Cass points out. "Seems you protected him well enough. You're a true hero, in my eyes."

>Not me, Connery saved him. I did nothing.
>I don't deserve that praise... I failed him.
>Thanks... old hag.

>>3560503
>Not me, Connery saved him. I did nothing.

>>3560503
>>Not me, Connery saved him. I did nothing.
I-It can only go up from here... right?

>>3560503
>>Not me, Connery saved him. I did nothing.

>>3560503
>I don't deserve that praise... I failed him.
This just isn't Antonio's time to shine is it?

>>3560503

>Not me, Connery saved him. I did nothing

Calling for
>Not me, Connery saved him. I did nothing.

Writing now.

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>Not me, Connery saved him. I did nothing.

"Don't be so hard on yourself!" Cass encourages you. "I've seen how much you've grown, even if you don't know it yourself. I used to be so worried about you when you would go off on gambling sprees and the like."

You shake your head. "You shouldn't worry about me, I'm not your family.

"Oh, but you are!" Cass gives you a smile as she nudges her elbow against your shoulder. This old woman, forever doting... you'd think you were one of her actual kids.

"My lord..." an older man in white suit under a robe speaks, adjusting his pink-tinted glasses. Taven, the head adviser to Marco Shao. He has served in that position since the days of the last emperor, and has always heeded good council. While the man looks frail and old, he's probably one of the most spry of the bunch. The leader of the armed forces, the gruff William Gram, is definitely in better shape, but Taven is practically a spring chicken compared to the like of the economic adviser Werner, who can only move through the assistance of a hover-chair, and can only survive with his head encased in a glass tube of... some kind of medical liquid, you've never been that smart to understand how that man could still be alive.

As Taven continues to clear the phlegm from his withered and dry throat, you wonder why there just hasn't been a complete recycling of the staff. No use for these dinosaurs anymore. But then you remember, these ten old grey bones have tended to the young Marco since birth, he has a familiarity to them closer than his own late parents... he could never bring himself to turn them away, no matter how much past their prime they became.

Taven adjusts through the papers he has compiled, before adjusting his glasses again and letting out more coughs. Get to the point already, old man. He's taking forever to say anything. What did he find?

"We've uncovered some startling information regarding your attempted assailant," Taven finally begins. "Information that shocked myself just as much as it will likely shock you. The assassin carried on his person a pair of dog tags, signifying military experience. The name of the company he served was included on one such tag... a mercenary unit by the name of the Hunter Kings."

"So... he was a mercenary?" you ask. "That's not good info to go off of. Anyone can hire a mercenary."

Taven sniffs. "Well, you see... The Hunter Kings only put up the front of being a mercenary group, to avoid showing any allegiances in their action. In reality, they were a covert ops group in our own military."

What? So it was the work of someone working on the NOAH!

"A group kept well hidden," Taven explains. "But one that answers directly to only one man..."

Wait, if they're a military group aboard the NOAH, then the only man they would answer to is...

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"General William Gram," Marco stands up, addresses the gruff greybearded man in the back of the council, who had suspiciously been silent instead of his usual commanding self. "Do you have an explanation for this?"

Gram grips tightly to the lucerne hammer he carries with him at all times for safety as he steps forward. But as he does, he loosens his grips and places it at his side with a smirk. "No need to take this to court, my lord. I'll admit it... I hired that man to kill you."

A rabble of shocked murmurings erupts in the throne room. Cass lets out a gasp, and you're sure Werner would do the same if he could. "William..." Marco speaks, addressing him by his first name as he always did. "W-why?"

"I remember a time when the galaxy was properly united," Gram explains. "We had different fleet cultures, of course, and I never much cared for the savages of Shinto, but we worked together under one flag of humanity. But today I stand before you ninety-four years of age, and that is not what I see anymore. Humanity is broken. And do you think your grandfather, the last emperor kept unity by being kind and charitable and throwing out candy to little children? No! He kept people in line through fear, through intimidation, through power!"

"And the Empire died with him," Marco points out, as serious look on his face.

Gram scoffs. "And what, my lord, have you done to fix it? I considered removing you a mercy killing, to place someone with the sense to rule and bring order back to the galaxy in charge, instead of some little foolish boy with no mind as a ruler who only sits in that meaningless broken chair because of how he was birthed! My plan may have failed... so now the closest thing I can get to satisfaction is telling you to your face... you are destined to end humanity, and I hate you."

Marco doesn't need to command anyone before guards begin to arrest William Gram.

"I did not expect such a... enthusiastic confession," Taven admits, taken aback. "But I suppose that settles the matter. I suggest we throw William Gram into a cell and throw away the key. A fitting punishment for attempted regicide."

Another adviser speaks up. "The only rightful punishment is death!"

Marco throws up his hand to silence them and looks to you. "Uncle Antonio... you will be the new commander of my armed forces."

"Me?" you ask, confused.

He nods. "Yes. I think you would do well in the position."

You stand up and bow. "T-thank you... I don't think I really deserve it, but-"

"Of course you do," he explains, but never taking his eyes of Gram. Now, what do you suggest be done with your predecessor?"

>He should be executed as soon as possible. He's to dangerous to allow to continue.
>As Taven said. Life imprisonment, what's left of it, anyway.
>He should be interrogated for further information. I suspect he had a few co-conspirators.

>>3560585
>He should be interrogated for further information. I suspect he had a few co-conspirators.
Well seeing as how the last guy we tried to interrogate ended up dying in a crash we'll probably accidentally execute him anyway.

>>3560585
>He should be interrogated for further information. I suspect he had a few co-conspirators.

>>3560585
>He should be interrogated for further information. I suspect he had a few co-conspirators.
Afterwards we can toss him out an airlock

>>3560585
>>He should be interrogated for further information. I suspect he had a few co-conspirators.

Calling for
>He should be interrogated for further information. I suspect he had a few co-conspirators.

Writing now.

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>He should be interrogated for further information. I suspect he had a few co-conspirators.

Marco nods. "Good thinking. I don't believe you acted of your own accord, William Gram."

"My actions were entirely my own," he explains. "Don't try to give credit to another."

"We'll see about that," Marco responds. "Take him away."

As William Gram is lead away, you notice Marco's eyes scanning the room intently, trying to gauge the expressions of the old men before him. Trying to see any crack in a potential facade.

As the meeting is cleared out, Marco approaches you and offers a handshake. "Congratulations... General Antonio Rhodes."

"Nephew, maybe you should find someone else," you remark.

"And why is that?" he asks.

You shake your head. "I'm an immoral, reckless, stupid soldier, little better than a pirate, little better than William Gram."

"You're a good man," Marco assures you.

"But I'm not cut out to be one," you remark. "I was much better at gambling, or whoring. When I try to do good, it never works out well. I'm not fit for such an important position. Kid... don't go pawning this off on me just because I'm your uncle."

"That's not why," Marco places a hand on your shoulder. "I did it because I trust you to handle the position well. I think you're capable. You have a great sense of right and wrong, you have a tenacity matched by no other. When a man lies injured, what do you do?"

"I would help him up," you answer on instinct.

"Exactly," Marco explains. "The empathy for people... it's a man's greatest strength."

You chuckle. "And here I was thinking strength was your greatest strength... you really think I deserve this?"

"I do."

>Then you're a bigger idiot than me. I refuse.
>Then I won't let you down, kid.

>>3560652
>>Then I won't let you down, kid.
I like this dude

>>3560652
>>Then I won't let you down, kid.

>>3560652
>Then I won't let you down, kid.

>>3560652
>Then I won't let you down, kid.
If this was a successful mission I'd gate to see what a failed one looks like.

Calling for
>Then I won't let you down, kid.

Writing now.

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>Then I won't let you down, kid.

"I know," Marco smiles. He pats you on the shoulder as he returns to his chair.

"Are you sure you don't want one biscuit?" Cass asks.

You give a small, motivated smile as you take her up on the offer. "Sure, thanks."


>Several days later

Still no info from William Gram. There's little to be done in the way of interrogation, considering Marco would not allow for any inhumane treatment. Perhaps if you all were able to push him further, he might spill the beans. But no, he has kept his story consistent... it was all him.

Even if he won't admit it, you haven't given up your efforts to unveil the truth. Cass and Taven have launched a full investigation, with close instruction to screen ever adviser as carefully as possible. You've kept a direct through-line since then with the lord's grandmother. While you've been busy trying to keep the armed forces under control through low morale and dissatisfaction, you've been paying close attention to her updates, eagerly awaiting any possible info.

Which is why her latest update sent to your holopad fills you with dread.

"EMERGENCY. WERNER IS RALLYING THE SOLDIERS AND OTHER ADVISERS AGAINST MARCO. HE HAS MYSELF AND TAVEN LOCKED DOWN. I HOPE THIS GETS TO YOU IN TIME, FOR I WILL SOON BE A PRISONER. OR WORSE, DEAD. PLEASE PROVIDE AID, AND WE CAN QUASH THIS THREAT."

"AND IF THIS IS THE LAST MESSAGE IS SEND, PLEASE KNOW THAT I'VE ALWAYS BEEN PROUD OF YOU. DON'T BE AFRAID TO EAT BISCUITS."

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Well, there's no doubt in your mind that it was sent by Cass. But you can't allow that to be your last correspondence. Within the message she sent co-ordinates to the location she's being held in. You gather a small force, exercising your newfound authority as head of the armed forces on the NOAH, and make your way there. Werner... you always figured he'd be the traitorous type. The man just screamed evil from his appearance and creepy demeanour... though you suppose most of that came from his age and illness. He's likely expecting you to arrive, and set traps accordingly, traps that you likely aren't smart enough to avoid.

But your family is in danger, so you have to power through.

As you were warned there's a force of rogue soldiers patrolling the perimeter of the building. It's Werner's own office, no surprise there. Through the fire fight between your men and his, you rush into the building, knocking enemies left and right with a swing of your anchor. You head to the room in the co-ordinates given, and you burst open the door to find Taven lying, bleeding from his mid-section and groaning in pain.

"Taven!" you yell. "Where is Lady Shao?"

Taven coughs up a storm before answering. "Werner and his men... I'm afraid they took her upstairs. They intend to use the lady as a hostage, a bargaining chip against Lord Shao."

"DAMMIT!" You yell, overturning a desk in anger, before storming towards the door to catch Werner and his men up the stairs.

"Help..." Taven mutters, as he crawls along the ground. "I... can't move..."

>Push yourself, old man! I don't have time to carry you.
>Dammit... here, give me your arm.

>>3560752
>Dammit... here, give me your arm.
We can use Taven as a bat when we enter combat

>>3560752
>>Dammit... here, give me your arm.
We're gonna get stabbed, aren't we?

>>3560752
>Dammit... here, give me your arm.
So do we blame Marco for following his hypothetical situation when Werner escapes?

>>3560752
>>Dammit... here, give me your arm.
Fuckingggggg

Calling for
>Dammit... here, give me your arm.

Writing now.

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>Dammit... here, give me your arm.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=4Js-XbNj6Tk

You move back to Taven and hunker down. As Marco said, when a man falls injured... you pick him up. Even if one of your arms is still broken, you can provide a shoulder and bring him to safety. Huh... maybe he was truly right about you. That kid... he always sees the best in people. You throw Taven's arm over your shoulder and pull him up.

"Thank you, thank you..." he mutters.

"I'll get you to one of my men, they'll keep you safe while I..." your voice drifts off as you eyes drift down, to see what's in Taven's hand. What he concealed by lying on his belly.

A blood pack.

He wasn't bleeding at all.

"You never were that bright," Taven smirks, the energy returning to his face.

"You son of a-" you begin, before Taven whips out his knife from the inner pocket of his jacket.

And slits your throat.

You fall back, placing your hand from your broken arm over the slice across your throat, doing anything you can to stop the bleeding. But you can't... there's so much blood lost already.

"It was a shame I had to stain my robe," Taven said. "Oh, and bring harm to you. You could have been a useful pair of arms... but then again, you were too stupid to see. We were all in on it."

Tears fill your eyes, as thoughts go back to your sister. Aurora... you truly were her screw-up of a little brother. And Marco... dammit...

>I'm so sorry, kid... I couldn't stop failing you...
>No. I'm taking this bastard out with me. It's the least I could do!

>>3560813
>>No. I'm taking this bastard out with me. It's the least I could do!
I KNEW IT

>>3560813
>>No. I'm taking this bastard out with me. It's the least I could do!
I hate these fucks

>>3560813
>No. I'm taking this bastard out with me. It's the least I could do!
Wonder if this'll get Marco to reevaluate his beliefs seeing as how his earlier example has literally killed us

>>3560813
>No. I'm taking this bastard out with me. It's the least I could do!
So what're the chances that Cass is the rusemaster then?

Calling for
>No. I'm taking this bastard out with me. It's the least I could do!

Roll 1d20, Best of 3.

Rolled 20 (1d20)

>>3560851

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>3560851
THIS IS IT
MY FINAL EMERALD SPLASH

Rolled 3 (1d20)

>>3560851
>>3560855
Finally, a good roll.

File: Gawain01.jpg (68 KB, 564x846)

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>20 [CRITICAL SUCCESS]

"Now, if you'll excuse me," Taven smirks. "We have our hostage, and we will bargain with Marco Shao. Farewell, short lived General."

Taven takes a few steps forward... then instantly collapses to his knees, a crunching sound reverberating through his old bones. "What... what is...?"

He didn't realise? As long as he's in this room, he's in the radius of your Biochip. And now... Taven will be crushed under the weight of his sins.

Taven continues to press further into the ground, roaring in pain. His bones crunch and break under the pressure, spurting out blood as you see his form distort, like he was being crushed under a vice. You get to watch as one last crunch breaks his neck, and the traitorous adviser is no more.

It's not much... but it's some reprieve. You did something to help.

Marco... you only wish you could of done more. But that kid... he doesn't need you. He never needed you... he's grown to be so capable on his own.

You give a smile of pride, as you release the pressure on the slash of your neck, letting go. Aurora... you'll be joining her soon...


>Meanwhile, in Camelot
>POV Shift: Gawain

"What's the message?"

The light from the holopad screen is all that illuminates the dark room, until the woman in your bed rolls over and switches on the bedside light.

"Some sort of civil issue aboard the NOAH," you mutter, groggy and annoyed. "Seems some corrupt advisers have created a hostage situation with the Shao family in a bid for more control. We're being called in on the morning to sort it out."

"Why us? The NOAH isn't part of our fleet, it's independent."

You sigh. "Use your brain. We may not be policing that fleet, but it's incredibly powerful. Not only does Queen Julia have respect for Marco Shao and how he runs his operations, but it's in all our best interests to not allow a ship with as many resources as the NOAH falls to a corrupt force. We could find ourselves with a fourth player in these constant battles."

"Okay..." she mutters. "No need to be so rude."

"If you had an issue with rudeness, you would not be lying in my bed... Major Bates."

The young woman of blonde hair, blue eye and five feet plus six inches of height, sits up in bed. Major Alexa Bates. She may be naive at points, but she's a expert marksman. It was that skill which drew her to your attention in the first place.

She gives a pout as she looks at you and adjusts her hair, pulling blankets to her chin to protect her modesty... how old-fashioned. "You know, this isn't exactly courtly love," she points out. "Aren't you generals legally required to practice that?"

>Not required. Merely expected.
>Would you prefer that from me? It's a little late to be asking.

>>3560906
>>Not required. Merely expected.

>>3560906
>Would you prefer that from me? It's a little late to be asking.
Damn that's a brutal way to go.

>>3560906
>Would you prefer that from me? It's a little late to be asking.
Cool, we get to play as different factions

>>3560906
>Would you prefer that from me? It's a little late to be asking.
I didn’t expect Gawain to be a PC, that is going to be interesting.

Calling for
>Would you prefer that from me? It's a little late to be asking.

Writing now.

File: Alexa Bates04.jpg (311 KB, 694x720)

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>Would you prefer that from me? It's a little late to be asking.

Major Bates laughs to herself, but you don't see the humour in the comment. "No," she explains. "It's just that... when I was growing up, it was assumed that Camelots generals were more... noble? Gallant?"

You stare at her, unamused. "I don't care if I'm considered gallant or not."

"I know that," she replies. "I've been working under you... and been intimate under you."

"Clever," you reply in a deadpan tone.

Alexa lets out a yawn, stretching in the bed, before getting embarrassed as the sheets fall and she exposes herself. She's quick to cover up yet again. "Do you ever like to have a conversation, Gawain."

"General," you correct her.

Alexa rolls her eyes. "You never talk about yourself, General. It gets quite boring when pillow talk is one-sided. You know enough about me. I told you about my upbringing."

"Yes, yes..." you wave your hand dismissively. "A simple peasant girl with stars in her eyes, rising to the top against all odds. Fit for a storybook. I don't speak of myself."

You lie back in the bed, reaching over Major Bates to turn the lights off.

She quickly turns them back on. "I've decided," she says.

"What?"

"My new goal is to see you smile," she jokes. "I'm starting to think you aren't able to."

"I was cursed by a witch," you reply in a sarcastic tone. "Cursed to be stone-faced forever."

She smirks. "I'll test that."

"For now, you can allow me sleep. I don't want you getting killed in tomorrow's mission because you weren't rested and focused."

"Aww, was that some concern for-"

"No."

The next morning, you are greeted professionally again by the major. It's frowned upon in Camelot for knights and generals not to practice courtly love. You couldn't give less of a damn about your reputation if people discover that you enjoy the physical company of a woman, but the scandal would damage Major Bates image, and her lower class background is damaging enough. So you respect her wishes to keep the relationship secret.

Besides, you cavort with several women. Those aren't secret.

"Goood morning, general!" Linda Lynch, the second of your charges comes up to you. Despite her carrying a traditional Shinto blade at her hip, of which she is adept, and the traditional Shinto clothing dyed a Camelot blue that she sports, Major Linda Lynch was not born on the red fleet, nor does she have any heritage attached. She's simply interested in their foreign culture, as displayed by her Shinto traditional bow of greeting. They don't even do that bow often in Shinto, but she read it in a book, and therefore grew attached.

>Try that again, only salute me properly this time.
>I hope you're in fine form, Major. We'll be going into action today.

>>3561008
>>I hope you're in fine form, Major. We'll be going into action today.

>>3561008
>I hope you're in fine form, Major. We'll be going into action today.
Careful guys, Space Weebo Alert.

>>3561008
>Try that again, only salute me properly this time
Filthy space weeb

>>3561008
>Try that again, only salute me properly this time.
Oh dear god they've spread to the stars

>>3561008
>Try that again, only salute me properly this time.

>Space weeb
Get the pitxhforks and torches, it's time to burn some dakis

Calling for
>Try that again, only salute me properly this time.

Writing now.

File: Linda Lynch03.jpg (91 KB, 850x1020)

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>Try that again, only salute me properly this time.

Linda and Alexa share a look, before Linda shakes her head and rolls her eyes, giving the proper salute. "Good morning, General!" she repeats. You give a dour nod, before turning towards your armaments.

"I do not know how I ended up with you pair as my subordinates..."

"You chose us!" Alexa points out, placing her hands on her hips. "After Major Landseer died in that Athen's battle, my name was the first on your list-"

"And you've been serving the role barely longer than a hiccup," you explain. "Don't act like attaining this role is proving yourself. Attaining the role is an opportunity to prove yourself."

"Always with the serious lectures..." Linda mutters, with a tone of admiration. "I wonder if he ever relaxes... he deserves a break."

Alexa dons a confident smirk. "He can have a break, and I'll step up to the plate. I'll get promoted to General and be given a Biochip of my own!"

As you return to adjusting the armaments, you try to block out the mindless chatter of your two Majors.

File: Galahad01.jpg (76 KB, 625x750)

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... Why did she mention Major Landseer so casually? Has it been long enough since his death to speak of it that way? Landseer died in battle... but it was not due to his weakness. He had a strong death, one to be proud of. He put the fear into every last one of those Athens peons before he was taken down. That battle... to many it was seen as nothing short of a disaster. Completely outmatched, outnumbered... any other general would have sounded a retreat. But you refused to be defeated, to show weakness, to cower against your ideals. You promised to defend Camelot until your death, so why would you run from that possibility? In the end, you lost seven ships and a Major... but you also killed an Athens General.

Yet for some reason, refusing to betray those principles turned you into a pariah. They whisper behind your back, call you reckless, uncaring and cruel. When promoting you to general they forced you to take your vows. When you fail them, they call you an ignoble, disrespectful disgrace of a knight, yet when you follow them to the letter, they call you cruel, rigid and uncaring. To hell with all of them, you do your duty, and no more.

"I expected you to be prepared already!" a voice calls out. You spin around, to see... him. Galahad. You and this cheery faced fool of a general have known each-other your entire lives, having been raised in the same foster home together, trained together, entered the service together.

You remember punching the last soldier who referred to you as 'brothers' and dismissing the last one who called you 'friends'.

"What are you doing here, General?" you ask. "Shouldn't you be patrolling traffic?"

Galahad chuckles. "Come on, I'm a general like you! I received the call for this apparent NOAH situation. I guess we're going to be assisting each-other, the problem must be pretty serious..."

>You? I would even prefer that clown Percival over your help.
>I see... they don't trust me to handle matters myself, I take it.
>Sending two generals to handle some rebellious old men? The Queen is taking extreme caution.

>>3561090
>>Sending two generals to handle some rebellious old men? The Queen is taking extreme caution.

>>3561090
>Sending two generals to handle some rebellious old men? The Queen is taking extreme caution.
Gawain's obviously never played Deus Ex if he doesn't realise the power of OLD MEN RUNNING THE WORLD

>>3561090
>I see... they don't trust me to handle matters myself, I take it.

>>3561090
>I see... they don't trust me to handle matters myself, I take it

>>3561090
>>You? I would even prefer that clown Percival over your help.

>>3561090
>>I see... they don't trust me to handle matters myself, I take it.

Calling for
>I see... they don't trust me to handle matters myself, I take it.

Writing now.

>>3561090
>I see... they don't trust me to handle matters myself, I take it.

>>3561090
>>Sending two generals to handle some rebellious old men? The Queen is taking extreme caution
I'm totally not late yet

File: Daizee Danger03.jpg (224 KB, 850x1178)

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>I see... they don't trust me to handle matters myself, I take it.

"I wouldn't say that!" Galahad smiles, cheerful as ever. "They probably just think we're both needed for something like this. It doesn't reflect on their feelings about you."

You scoff. Galahad, ever the foolish optimist. Perhaps your majors would be more suited to him... no. Your majors are strong and talented, they belong with a strong leader. Galahad is too soft and weak, as evidenced by how he and Linda are currently hugging. Their friendship serves to piss you off to no end.

"I was waiting for us to finally do a mission together!" she smiles, as the two high-five.

"I know, right?" Galahad replies. "We're going to ace this one as a team!"

As they speak, one of Galahad's charge, a woman of long brown hair and a permanent cocky smirk emblazoned on her face struts up, her hips swaying with a confidence unbecoming of a disciplined soldier. "And what would any team be without their ace pilot?" she boasts, throwing her arm over Galahad's shoulder in a boisterous display of camaraderie.

Major Daizee Danger. For all her pomp and circumstance, she is undoubtedly one of the best pilots in Camelot, and argued by some the be the absolute pinnacle of the craft on the fleet. And best in Camelot means best in the entire Galaxy, especially when military aspects are concerned. "Looks like we're teaming with the death of all joy today," she jokes as she looks in your direction.

"He can be fun," Linda defends you. "W-when you get to know him..."

"Hmm..." Daizee bobs her head as she examines you, your sour expression and your arms folded. "I'm gonna answer with 'Doubt' for 30,000 credits. I'm right? Oh yeah! Big winner! Choo-choo!"

File: Jon Windham.jpg (126 KB, 850x1200)

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Daizee pumps her fist and floats around Galahad as you scoff. "First of all, you would never win 30 thousand credits off a single question."

"Oh wow, he CAN be fun," Daizee jokes. "Technicalities are the makings of a real charmer. Is that what gets you into all those married womens beds? I mean, that's what the rumours say..."

"To hell with rumours, I couldn't care less," you spit.

Daizee chuckles. "Wow... I've never seen a knight who hates being a knight more. Is this some kind of self-punishment on yourself?"

"Daizee, you should probably lay off a little," Major Jon Windham, Galahad's other charge, speaks as he joins the group. Straight laced and eager to serve, Jon Windham can simply be described as 'a good man'. His goodness is not truly outstanding or noble, but in the wake of his complete ungodly lack of interesting features, 'a good man' is the only real way to refer him.

"So, how are we doing this?" Daizee asks. "Is it gonna be the six of us and a small force in one ship, using my expertise to slip right in and take care of the matter quickly and quietly... or are we just going to try to overwhelm them. Seeing as I'm talking to the guy who charged 50 Athens Ships, I think I've got a good idea what the strategy might be..."

>As a matter of fact, you're right. We're going in, massacring the conspirators, then taking our leave.
>Don't presume. The understated method was actually my plan. We're not trying to gun down the entire NOAH.

>>3561183
>As a matter of fact, you're right. We're going in, massacring the conspirators, then taking our leave.

>>3561183
>As a matter of fact, you're right. We're going in, massacring the conspirators, then taking our leave.

>>3561183
>As a matter of fact, you're right. We're going in, massacring the conspirators, then taking our leave.
Blood for the blood god

>>3561183
>As a matter of fact, you're right. We're going in, massacring the conspirators, then taking our leave

Calling for
>As a matter of fact, you're right. We're going in, massacring the conspirators, then taking our leave.

Writing now.

File: Galahad05.jpg (185 KB, 600x600)

185 KB JPG

>As a matter of fact, you're right. We're going in, massacring the conspirators, then taking our leave.

"Look at mister confident!" Major Danger teases. "You'd almost think he doesn't screw up!"

Galahad waves his hand. "Okay Daizee, let's not be mean. Gawain's a great tactician, better than I could ever be. We should take his heed."

"You're a general too Gally," Daizee responds, referring to him by a childish nickname. "Even if you keep forgetting that."

You board your ship with your charges and a personal force of soldiers, while Galahad does the same with the forces under his charge. You ready your ships, set your destination, and head off on-course for the NOAH.

"Do you think the amount we're sending could be... overkill?" Linda asks.

You shake your head. "We don't know how many of the soldiers aboard the NOAH's personal military are aligned with the advisers. Reports say that Antonio Rhodes, Marco Shao uncle and general of the forces, was killed in an ambush. Shao's grandmother is a hostage, his right hand man and his bodyguard are both hospitalised. Shao's situation is unknown. Worse case scenario, he's already dead. We can't be too careful."

"Speaking of careful..." Major Danger's voice comes in over the communicator, as she pilots the nearby ship to yours. "We want to keep an eye on the group behind us? They're getting closer... and there's a lot of them."

"Don't worry," you reply. "They're reinforcements. Janna Von Beck informed me that the Queen's council saw fit to negotiate assistance from an outside force, one who has helped us in the recent past."

"Noticed you were kind of weaselling around naming names there, champ."

"General," you correct Daizee. "And no hesitation. Those ships belong to Kingpin Dong. It's also in his best interest that the NOAH doesn't fall to corruption. Such an event would be disastrous to his profits and his luxurious life. He's so determined to prevent this that he's chosen to come personally... and bring his best general."

Alexa's eyes widen as she swivels around in her chair. "Wait... do you mean that-"

"Yes," you respond. "We enter battle... with LB on our side."

Linda pauses, then nods. "Ah... now that's overkill."

END OF CHAPTER 18

>>3561247
Rest in peace Rhodes.
Our time together was short.
But you were a cool fucking dude who deserved better and I'm going to bully book until you come back.


BUT HEY GOOD THREAD BOOK!

File: Connery07.png (263 KB, 819x1322)

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>Ending Theme
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=K6_wBQKDJMI

>Archive
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/qstarchive.html?tags=Kingdoms%20in%20the%20Stars

>Twitter
https://twitter.com/bookerman32

>Patreon
https://www.patreon.com/BookerMan

Thanks for playing! This ended up being a lot longer than I thought it would be, so I actually had to split this into two! Next session will be coming after this weekend, likely on Tuesday! Follow the Twitter for any updates on the next session!

>Player Questions
What were your thoughts on Antonio? Marco's Advisers? The Camelot Generals and Majors? How do you expect quelling this rebellion will go? Will Marco and his gran be okay? Also, thoughts on the first thread with a different POV on the universe than our main protag Matt's?

>>3561260
>PQ
ANTONIO WAS A GOOD BOY WHO DESERVED SO MUCH BETTER AAAAAAAAAAAA
ADVISERS ALL A FUCKING SHIT
I loved the sudden POV change, and it's neat seeing more of Camelot
Probably reaaaaaaly bloodily.
I really fucking hope so, Gran an absoloute precious and I want her to be good so much
IT WAS FUCKING RAD I WANT MORE WHEN LACEY THREAD

>>3561260
Thanks for running Booker.

>PQ
Well he certainly had an...interesting debut? At least he managed to cap off the thread with his last roll being a crit success to redeem his first roll being a crit failure.

Expecting the advisors to be a mix of stabbing Marco in the back for power and stabbing him in the back because he's not up to the job.

Gawain's best General, let him rip and tear to his heart's content.

See previous statement.

Honestly expect Cass to be another traitor that the other traitors don't know is a traitor.

I liked it, gives us new people to meet, new powers to play with and new ways to completely fuck everything up in the worst possible ways. It's fun.

Now give me an AI character Booker.