>>5356480
>'Gerard ...' (Personal concern towards Gerard's family)
>'Monsters ...' (Disgust, horrified)
>'A war crime. That's what it is.' (Anger, indiscrete)
>'What could they possibly have gained from this ... butchering?' (Confusion, frustration)
>'It's probably best we continue this somewhere else ... or not at all. This may be the Administratum, but I don't think talking about this so openly would be ... wise.' (Keep your personal feelings in check and address protocol first)
>Write-In

>>5356484
>'Gerard ...' (Personal concern towards Gerard's family)

FIRST THING'S FIRST:

My grandfather passed away, I was in a bad place and just put myself into playing video games to keep my mind off certain things. I'm semi-back now and hope we can resume without any further effect. Session times will be revised proper. Any questions are welcome.

>>5356484
>>'Gerard ...' (Personal concern towards Gerard's family)

>>5356484
>'Gerard ...' (Personal concern towards Gerard's family)

>>5356480
Can I get a Discord link?
>Gerard?

>>5356499
Here you go, mate.

>https://discord.gg/rVSWjzAc

Don't take anything I say seriously and be warned of my using the off-topic section as a personal venting pod.

>>5356484
>>'Gerard ...' (Personal concern towards Gerard's family)

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>'Gerard ...' (Personal concern towards Gerard's family)

‘Gerard …’

The mention of settlements practically snaps you back to memories of a Rhysode morning during your leave from the Academy, cracking open one eye at dawn to find the younger siblings of the household curiously peering at you from the hallway on a slab of floor that’s only comforted by the simplistic layer of cushion for you before scurrying back down … and promptly being risen from your slumber by the heel of your friend, Gerard, rubbing against your cheek. It had been an arrangement made on a whim, during the days that you knew few and with the titles of House Mishima, tentative but otherwise temporarily cast aside from your person, on the back of your mind. You remember a pretty, if slightly scarred woman banging a pan with a ladle, calloused fingers risen and a crooked, ear-to-ear grin in an expression that couldn’t be more straightforward if it tried and a man in a hat peering from the other side of a window, jokingly asking if it the arrangement had been preferable to the grilling of Academy first-years.

Children and teenagers were everywhere in that house, that home; along with food, noise. You spent most of your time there tending to the livestock that had been so generously been bestowed by the Imperial Agricultural Sectorial Offices as part of their four-generation plan. You wonder if that was the reality of most of Rhysode: a scarce population on the edge of the hundreds—the thousands—of worlds of the Imperium, where even the population centres served as a formality and ascetic more than they did any form of purpose. The town had been alien to you at first; you could barely make sense of what was said: insults that were not meant and laughter that was as genuine as the thirty-seven standard hour cycles of the planet and tables and walls that were older than even your grandfather, barely held together by elbow grease and incompatible screws and old men who somehow made it all work.

Gerard’s scowl as his siblings cheered your more successful—if relatively clumsy—wrangling of a young, bucking steed—you believe the correct term was stallion—to his own is burned into your mind, as is the feeling of grime under your nails and the hair sticking to your skin (along with the ruination of a tunic that cost at least half their house by your own estimate).

It all seemed so long ago.

But you are so afraid of what either of them had to say about it now.

‘Don’t want to even think about what he’s going through,’ Ryosuke remarks, a pained expression carving itself upon his brow as he looks away, uncertain and hesitant.

Fisher’s expression betrays nothing.

The knuckles on her flesh and blood hand, however, do.

‘It’s a damn shit-show is what this all is.’

>>5356800
>You're at a loss of words; your actions reflect your emotions (Stay Silent)
>'Have you tried to talk to him at all? Instructor? Ryosuke? What about Maldante?' (Concerned)
>'A shit-show. Appropriate.' (Stoic)
>'You could at least show a little bit of respect.' (Irritated)
>'I can't comprehend what he's going through right now.' (Sympathetic)
>'This ... really isn't the place for this.' (Try to shrug it off and take your surroundings into consideration)
>Write-In

>>5356801
>>'Have you tried to talk to him at all? Instructor? Ryosuke? What about Maldante?' (Concerned)

>>5356801
>'Have you tried to talk to him at all? Instructor? Ryosuke? What about Maldante?' (Concerned)

>>'I can't comprehend what he's going through right now.' (Sympathetic)

>>5356801
>>'Have you tried to talk to him at all? Instructor? Ryosuke? What about Maldante?' (Concerned)

I'll be running in about 2 hours. For real, really. Hope to see you guys there!

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>'Have you tried to talk to him at all? Instructor? Ryosuke? What about Maldante?' (Concerned)

Your mouth runs a lot quicker than your thoughts. The years of composure refinement are thrown out the window as your emotions break free of their prison, causing you to almost physically stumble with the practically catapulting of the words from the launchpad of your lips. ‘Have you talked to him at all?’ is the flat dive of your query, with both Morrigan and Ryosuke being very visibly taken aback by what you assume to be the unexpected blurting of an unrefined sentence; you glance from one to the other, resembling a panicky child more than the heir-in-running for one of the universe’s most powerful families. ‘Instructor? Ryosuke? What about Maldante?’

To great surprise, Ryosuke is the one who recovers first. ‘I, uh … I told you,’ he starts, scratching back of his head as he stares at you in confusion. ‘We haven’t been even finished … processin’ yet, bud. From what I heard, the Imperium’s pretty much still in shock that this happened at all. Gerard, everyone else … not all of us can just get our asses dragged out of line, you know?’

As frustrating as it is to comprehend, Ryosuke wasn’t exactly wrong.

You’re also quite certain that Ryosuke means no offense whatsoever by singling out the privileges that you’d been afforded. However …

>‘What are you insinuating?’ (Offended)
>You seem to be forgetting someone … (Try to recall)
>‘True … but why didn’t you bother calling me so you could, then?’ (Scion background; communicate your incredulity that he didn’t ask for help—that none of them did)
>‘Indeed. Captain, I would like you to communicate Ser Monde. I have names and I want them pushed.’ (Scion background; make use of your position as Scion)
>‘Yes, I’m … I apologize.’ (Embarrassed)

>>5357881
>>‘Indeed. Captain, I would like you to communicate Ser Monde. I have names and I want them pushed.’ (Scion background; make use of your position as Scion)

Well, no one's around. I'll wait for the rest of the lads to come along.

>>5357883
>‘Indeed. Captain, I would like you to communicate Ser Monde. I have names and I want them pushed.’ (Scion background; make use of your position as Scion)

>>5357883
>‘Indeed. Captain, I would like you to communicate Ser Monde. I have names and I want them pushed.’ (Scion background; make use of your position as Scion)

>>5357883
>>‘True … but why didn’t you bother calling me so you could, then?’ (Scion background; communicate your incredulity that he didn’t ask for help—that none of them did)

>>5358739
Even if they had tried our father would have prevented all of them from contacting us.

>>5357883
>>‘True … but why didn’t you bother calling me so you could, then?’ (Scion background; communicate your incredulity that he didn’t ask for help—that none of them did)

>>5358768
Well, unless it was Emilio or the Silver Hall getting involved. Anyway, can I have a roll check on when people will be online? I tried doing this at 10 PM my time but no one was on. What's the best time?

>>5358974
Went through the archive, shame about the first edition

>>5359469
That one's on me. I lost the notebook. I had to rewrite all the character stuff and the mech trees. Which is kinda funny because after that I found out the vast majority didn't really care for roll mechanics and wanted more story, so I had to spend a few months trying to key in new bases for the Quest.

Now, basically, I leave it all up to the players on what they do know and what they don't know ... and that they're a Space Merchant Prince who can just call his dad to bail him out.

Shit happens. though if you ever find that notebook we could resume the first one


Ill join soon after I read through the rest of the threads.

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>‘Indeed. Captain, I would like you to communicate Ser Monde. I have names and I want them pushed.’ (Scion background; make use of your position as Scion)

‘Captain,’ you start, not even glancing at the man … before realizing that he didn’t really deserve the discourtesy and actually did turn to face him. ‘I would like you to communicate establish communications with Ser Monde. Tell him of an inquisition I wish to push with immediacy regarding an urgent matter.’

You pause for a moment, remembering just what Ser Monde’s duties truly encompassed … and hoping you got the terminology that he would inevitably bombard you with memorized as well as your father did. He was an extremely busy man, after all, even by the standards of House Vassals … but even that consideration for one of your father’s most trusted counsels dwarfed in the face of your immediate concern for your former comrades and their having their fate damned to the bureaucracy of the Imperium.

Cheating it, on your part, on their behalf, was what Scions did, anyway.

You were expected to be a reckless, self-serving mess of a man-in-waiting. It did you no harm to indulge in that fantasy.

‘Yes, my Lord,’ comes the synthesized reply behind the red-eyed mask, followed by a collective bow from your security detail … before a bout of hesitation seems to take a hold of him. ‘And if he asks for a contact span, sir?’

>‘Tell him … to wait on my call.’ (Haughty)
>‘Please inform him to expect one within half a standard day.’ (Respectful)
>‘Inform him to make a judgment on that himself.’ (Dismissive)
>‘Write-In’

>>5359779
>‘Please inform him to expect one within half a standard day.’ (Respectful)

>>5359779
>>‘Please inform him to expect one within half a standard day.’ (Respectful)

>>5359779
>>‘Please inform him to expect one within half a standard day.’ (Respectful)

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>‘Please inform him to expect one within half a standard day.’ (Respectful)

You give it a moment of thought: you didn’t want to pull Ser Monde from his work with such a suddenness it would have caused him whiplash. Scion you may have been, but your father was the very picture of efficiency, and regardless of you being his son, you knew better than to rip Ser Monde from a task that your father had explicitly allocated him, lest you be called into his office … again.

‘Please inform him to expect contact from me within half the standard day,’ you answer, a little more reserved than you’d previously enunciated, adding, for good measure, ‘but don’t … make it sound like it’s a matter of life and death. I believe he has more than enough to sift through helping my father deal with the subsidiaries and system divisions.’

‘By your leave, my Lord.’

The noble tongue. A matter of course for any security detail to be educated upon in order to better protect those that they were beholden to; a personal guard with an impersonal distance and a standard unstretched yet broad enough to encompass product holds of conduct and presentation … you’d almost forgotten the rigidity of it all, being part of the AEGIS as you had been the last few years. The nod that you give the man is short, curt; you wave him off to set about his task, already rotating his wrist and keying in a command to relay to the ship above and to begin the beaming from the world’s localized communication array.

You turn back to face Morrigan and Ryosuke, both of whom were—

‘Instructor Fisher.’

That wasn’t a voice that you knew; not at all.

You turn to your left to see an escort of soldiers, kilted in a manner similar to your own men, only even more so. There were at least eight of them, their arrival practically splitting the lobby apart. The onlookers, however, know better than to hold their attention for more than a second or three, so intimidating they were. Each of them measuring at least half a head above you in height, with snouted masks and bolted cheeks and bandoliers lined with weaponry that you would have been declared as too clumsy to handle even if you had qualified at all, padded above layers of bulky armor, with pauldrons almost as high as their ears and their lower halves packed with all manner of supplementaries that portrayed them in such a manner that you could have mistaken them for a Death Squad if you didn’t know any better.

Or rather, you believe that you knew better.

Circular lenses roll and reflect the light of the atrium as the eight-counted step aside, revealing …


‘Inquisitor Argus,’ Morrigan answers … tightly.

The man is bald, stone-faced, unremarkable … and somehow frightening.

‘Apologies for our delay,’ he says, crisply.

He doesn't seem to even acknowledge you.

>Announce yourself.
>Keep silent and let your superiors talk.
>Write-In

>>5360780
>>Keep silent and let your superiors talk.

>>5360780
>Keep silent and let your superiors talk.

>>5360780
>>Keep silent and let your superiors talk

Okay, guys. I'm at a bit of a roadblock here myself. I realized that having you jump through the same hoops and bureaucracy measures as the "common man" isn't really doing much to add to the fact that you're part of one of the richest families in the known universe and that you REALLY should be meeting more than just the "mid level" guys, but at the same time I feel like dumping everything at once for you guys is kinda overwhelming and is on the back on a ton of lore dumps, so I'm going to have you guys make a choice for the primary "theme" of your time as a Scion:

Do you:
>Want to deal with the greater political intrigue of the Imperium as you try to solve the mysteries of Rhysode (the Grit and Grind of the Imperial Bureaucracy, like your dad does)
>Want to deal with the interconnection of navigating the higher classes while you adventure around the universe (the Imperial Family, the Houses, the Emperor himself)
>Want to deal with your own personal trials as a Scion (Basically no changes, but it's more inward and a lot less world building while focusing primarily on how you're a soldier--basically the only change from the other "classes" is that you're a Scion)

>>5362689
>Want to deal with the interconnection of navigating the higher classes while you adventure around the universe (the Imperial Family, the Houses, the Emperor himself)

>>5362689
>>Want to deal with the interconnection of navigating the higher classes while you adventure around the universe (the Imperial Family, the Houses, the Emperor himself)

Running in 30.

>>5364606
Ready

File: Interesting man.gif (857 KB, 640x484)

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>Keep silent and let your superiors talk.

Or so it would appear.

‘You are the Mishima Scion,’ he states, almost nonchalantly. The gaze that he spares you is neither tired nor welcoming; he looks at you in a manner that your father does his stack of data tablets and holo-charts, with no bow of reverence or salute to follow. The man—Argus—places his hands behind his back as he rotates slightly to directly face you, his escort moving slightly to accommodate for the billowing of his cape.

It appears as though he was now waiting for your own acknowledgment of him.

>Glance at Morrigan to get a glimpse of the mood
>Silently nod
>‘Ensign Mishima, sir.’ (Emphasize your role as a soldier; salute)
>‘I am.’ (Directly acknowledge your terms of address)
>Write-In

>>5364650
>>‘I am.’ (Directly acknowledge your terms of address)

>>5364650
>‘I am.’ (Directly acknowledge your terms of address)

>‘I am.’ (Directly acknowledge your terms of address)

You don’t shy away from his emphasis of your blood over your rank. No self-aware officer—either directly beholden to the Imperial Aegis or the greater Imperium mechanism itself—would have dropped you straight to rank.

‘I am,’ you answer, neither bowing nor saluting. Your statement is simple and short; while this appears to be received professionally enough by the man, Argus, you do notice your former Instructor briefly fixing a flat glance upon your person before turning her attention back towards the newcomer. You assume that she didn’t particularly approve of you indulging in your position, as minor as it was.

‘We have been expecting you.’

He’s definitely talking to you.

Definitely.

>Nod silently
>‘I wouldn’t be here if I was not.’ (Haughty)
>‘I’m always thankful for the express treatment.’ (Snark)
>‘I hope it isn’t that far a walk. I don’t know if I can scale another vertical kilometer.’ (Joke)
>Write-In

>>5364883
>>Nod silently

>>5364883
>Nod silently

>>5364883
>>Nod silently

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>Nod silently

Morrigan was surprisingly reluctant to allow you to follow him, despite having your own security detail in tow. You could tell from the way they talked to each other that there was some history between your former Instructor and the Inquisitor, despite the professional terms exchanged. Morrigan doesn’t say a word to you as you take your leave after Argus’ noting of her own debriefing—the one scheduled for the day, at least—being something to attend to over her concern for your person, but she does shoot you a look that tells you that the man was not to be trifled with … despite your position.

Ryosuke, to his credit, just waved you off like you’d been best friends forever.

You’d sooner die than confess to that.

Ryosuke would never hear the end of it.

You didn’t need Morrigan to tell you that, though. The last thing anyone wanted to do was give an Inquisitor a reason to get out of his chair, even as a member of a Great Trade House. Untouchable your kind may have seemed at times, but if your father had taught you anything about the relationship between the greater Imperium and the role of the Trade Houses within it, it was that if there was anything everyone agreed upon, it was that they wanted to keep a mutually-beneficial super-symbiotic relationship stay that way … and giving an Inquisitor a reason to think otherwise wouldn’t look good for anyone looking to honor themselves by their word.

It was one thing for an Inquisitor to snuff out incompetence.

It was another thing for giving them reason to attempt it in the first place.

Argus, whatever his relation with Morrigan, was no different.

Piercing the levels in a built-in magnetic cartway was one of the more inefficient ways of travel that you’d experienced, but you don’t voice it. Argus’ men stood opposite yours, the bunch of them trying to ignore one another the best that they could. The clicking noise from the opposing bench of the worn, omni-directional carriage, however, tells you that your men, at the very least, are doing a better job about it than the other side was. The clicking was obviously a localized relay … and the timing of it almost definitely insinuated that the members of Argus’ detail were talking to one another, with the occasional nods and shrugs pointing in the general direction of your men.

The cylindrical carriage enters an open vista of the planet-scape revealing—

The spread wings of a mech in flight, followed by two more of its kind, climbing towards the atmosphere.

It’s not the first time you’d seen a Piranha.

‘I heard that they didn’t hold as well as we assumed they would.’

Argus is speaking to you, again.

'On Rhysode.'

>Don't reply
>'I am not at liberty to discuss the incident.' (Soldier)
>'They melted right into the landscape.' (Dry)
>'They're too lightweight to hold their own in a fire-fight. Generalists more than having actual roles suited to them.' (Technical)
>'Is there a reason that my interrogation's so special, Inquisitor?' (Direct)
>Write-In

>>5365018
>>'They're too lightweight to hold their own in a fire-fight. Generalists more than having actual roles suited to them.' (Technical)

>>5365018
>How much of that was due to the lack of pilot familiarity due to the timing of the attack and how much was due to a flawed generalist design is something to investigate.

>>5365018
>>'They're too lightweight to hold their own in a fire-fight. Generalists more than having actual roles suited to them.' (Technical)

>>5365018
>>'They're too lightweight to hold their own in a fire-fight. Generalists more than having actual roles suited to them.' (Technical)

>'They're too lightweight to hold their own in a fire-fight. Generalists more than having actual roles suited to them.' (Technical)

You’re not sure why you lean into the opener he offers so comfortably, but the opportunity to talk about mechs over politics was much too enticing for you to ward off at all.

‘They’re much too lightweight to hold their own in a fire-fight,’ you declare, remembering the smoldering carcass of the Piranha, melted right into the cityscape of Rhysode’s founding city. ‘The alloy of choice is lightweight and probably accommodates its ability to go vertical and has its advantages in atmospheric situations or encounters that require the ability to shift sudden verticality, but it can’t hold back against concentrate plasma discharge or pulse projectiles of the same nature … or against kinetic weaponry, for that matter. I didn’t particularly excel in the subject … ’

‘Instructor Memphis would be heart-broken to hear that.’

You raise your head, the mention of your other teacher catching your attention.

‘Instructor Memphis? Is she—’

In all the chaos, you hadn’t had the opportunity to check up on her at all.

‘As irritating as ever, yes,’ Argus chuckles, regarding you behind slightly narrowed eyes and a smug smile. ‘Her status has become a lot harder to sort out due to the number of … private inquiries that have been made regarding the possibility of a two-way clause. She’s very much in demand … as I assume you would know, of course.’

‘Nothing further than her being involved with Trade House Akaba, I’m afraid,’ you reply, shrugging. ‘Last time I saw her, she was talking about how the Piranha was going to be the new frontline model for the AEGIS … nothing really revolutionary in that sense. She didn’t seem particularly keen on the transition, though.’

You pause for a moment.

‘I’m glad that she’s fine,’ you admit. ‘It’s a relief that she was able to get off-world safely.’

Argus’ gaze scans you as the carriage goes horizontal again, the light of the world’s primary star disappearing as you enter a tunnel. ‘Are you planning to pursue a career in the AEGIS, Lord Scion?’

You furrow your brows, locking them with Argus’ neutral look.

‘You’ll have to forgive my curiosity,’ he offers, wearing a half-smile. ‘It’s just … I went over your files before; your … pathway and choice of placement is very unorthodox. Both yours and his, in fact.’

His?

Emilio.

‘Very hands on,’ Argus comments, not missing a beat. ‘Most of the servicemen that the Trade Houses are so kind to grace us with take very indirect routes to serve their terms, but yours … is as practical as can be. I had to sit down for a moment seeing your placement as Specialist.’

You don’t answer. Not yet.

‘This sort of pathway, well … it’s almost always reserved for bastards.’

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>>5365442
>'It was taken at my uncle's insistence. If you're wondering he IS a bastard.' (Clean cut, direct)
>'Is there an oddity with wishing to serve the Imperium?' (Accusatory)
>'You don't have your own thoughts to share on that?' (Draw him out)
>'Regardless of the blood and the name, I am still a solder; that is what I am to the Imperium.' (Steadsfast)
>'Really now?' (Nonchalant)
>Don't answer him
>Write-In

>>5365445
>'It was taken at my uncle's insistence. If you're wondering he IS a bastard.' (Clean cut, direct)

>>5365445
>>'It was taken at my uncle's insistence. If you're wondering he IS a bastard.' (Clean cut, direct)

>>5365445
>>'It was taken at my uncle's insistence. If you're wondering he IS a bastard.' (Clean cut, direct)

>'It was taken at my uncle's insistence. If you're wondering he IS a bastard.' (Clean cut, direct)

‘My decision was made on my uncle’s suggestion,’ you answer, closing your eyes as you try your best to recall how your family—your House—had ended up deciding that marking you as yet another man for the uniform and carved into House Mishima’s line of prestige. ‘He actually is a bastard, if you’re wondering.’

It is in the most literal sense of the word. Your uncle, for whatever value that he carried that title by, was—as many others were—a beneficiary of House Mishima by right of blood. Scions, Patriarchs and Matriarchs were—as gossip encouraged—were practically expected to sow their seeds as far as wide and as frequently as possible, with speculative journalistic license frequently using the antics of your kind as basic entertainment fodder for the curious and voyeuristic. The truth, of course, was far from it. Trade Houses rarely expanded beyond the nucleus, with one or two branches forming—and more often than not—terminating affiliations within two to three generations, save for a few exceptions that thrived under a large, encompassing base. Akaba being the most well-known, and Reinweld following after in terms of sheer volume.

Your grandfather, meanwhile, had followed that trope to its logical conclusion, resulting in a few aunts and an uncle from his indulgences. That uncle, of course, had been afforded all the blessings bastardry came with: education, upbringing, privilege … all but the name.

That name would never be his.

‘I am aware,’ Argus nods. ‘I have not met the man personally, but from what I was able to dig up, he was certainly an enigma. Commendations, commissions … and it all just ends just when he’s about to step a foot into the committee like all the rest. It does make one … wonder.’

You’d wondered about that yourself.

You hadn’t been particularly curious about your uncle’s career. He’d shared his time as a soldier; his time on the Frontier Worlds and his assignments, his ascent and experiences … all of them had fit the argument to him pushing for you to take it all in through your own hands and eyes. Not that you hadn’t considered it, of course … mechas had always been a passion of yours, and tails of their valor and strength inspired those far and wide. Every Trade House had a few names that they’d tossed into the machine of the Imperium; it was really only a matter of pragmatic considerations before you—or your brother or even your sister—would be saddled with the task.

Although, you certainly didn’t expect ending up loving having your elbows in the mud or feeling joy at putting together an activation sequence under par.

Maybe that was why your uncle had pushed so hard for it in the first place.

‘I know he was in charge of an outpost out on The Frontier,’ you start, trying to recall the tales he had regaled. ‘I think he mostly had a mind on me losing weight and smarting up, though.’

Argus smirks. ‘Indeed,’ the Inquisitor remarks. ‘It would not do to have the next House Head a picture of sloth and avarice, would it?’

>‘No, it would not.’ (Humored)
>‘Would it be too presumptive of me to assume that as an Inquisitor, you’re aware of my … status with the Instructor?’ (Reach)
>‘The journalists would certainly love to think so.’ (Dry)
>‘It’s surprising to me that that’s all that you know about my uncle, really … being an Inquisitor and all.’ (Casual)
>‘I’d like to think that they’re just byproducts of my endeavors to serve the Imperium.’ (Smirk)
>‘We’ve passed the administrative apartments and offices … where are we going?’ (Progress)
>Write-In

>>5366390
>>‘No, it would not.’ (Humored)
Gotta be /fit/ after all

>>5366390
>‘No, it would not.’ (Humored)

>>5366390
>>‘No, it would not.’ (Humored)

>>5366390
>>‘No, it would not.’ (Humored)

>‘No, it would not.’ (Humored)

‘No,’ you concur, amused that he’d reached that far at all. ‘No, it would not.’

A curious look falls upon your person; the Inquisitor’s smirk fades, if only slightly.

‘It’s good that you’ve kept your sense of humor,’ Argus comments, tenting his digits as he leans forward. ‘Not many people would have been able to call on that after what you’ve been through.’

The image of Gerard’s family flashes before your eyes, if only for an instant.

‘I don’t have the right to drown in self-pity,’ you let out, smiling. ‘I do not wish my lack of tact under these circumstances to be mistaken for a lack of understanding of the current situation, however. I just don’t think that I’ve particularly earned the privilege to have the hypocrisy to wallow in sorrow as those who truly have lost those precious to them.’

Argus’ smirk disappears, replaced by a defeated, reserved smile. ‘You’re a lot more mature than I expected, too; not at all the character I was expecting from you.’

‘What did you expect, Inquisitor?’

You’re quite curious now.

‘Based on the reports, anywhere between a slacker and someone who couldn’t wait to have his commendations over and done with so he could get back to a life of indulgent hedonism.’

It’s not so much the words that prompt you into laughter, but the straight-faced, barely-spaced delivery that the Inquisitor managed. Your chortles, however, are cut off by the reminder that the man before you was an Inquisitor, and the last thing you wanted to do—as welcoming a conversationist as the man was—was betray anything that would give him an advantage. Morrigan had been wary of the man—rightly so—and while your position as the Scion of a Trade House did, indeed, give you some leverage due to your insistence of it instead of your bestowed rank (and the Inquisitor’s courtesy to allow you that distinction at all), you do keep in mind just who the man before you was before he was anything close to a friendly ear and an entertaining speaker.

His loyalties were with the Imperium and its interests … and he would fulfil them at a worthy cost.

While there had been no tales of Scions being whisked away by the long arm of the Imperium, you certainly know more than enough than to risk being the first.

From what you’d heard, however, bastards and branch clans were free game.

‘I concede that I … could have done a lot better than I did,’ you muse, your laughter subsiding. ‘Would have preferred to have been able to allow my duty to the Imperium be served in a Mech … delusional as it is.’

Argus’ smile returns. ‘After your performance on Rhysode, I fully concur. From Darton’s reports, you handled yourself exceptionally well.’

>>5367052
>'We both know that's a lie.' (Counter)
>'The dead would say differently.' (Regretful)
>'Darton ... Instructor Wray?' (Surprise)
>Nod silently, but keep your thoughts to yourself
>>‘We’ve passed the administrative apartments and offices … where are we going?’ (Progress)
>Write-In

>>5367054
>I wasn't alone, I had some very good friends covering my back, but even we were not enough to stop them.

>>5367056
Supporting

>>5367054
>I wasn't alone, I had some very good friends covering my back, but even we were not enough to stop them.

>>5367056
supporting

File: failed defense.jpg (2.17 MB, 3100x2209)

2.17 MB JPG

>I wasn't alone, I had some very good friends covering my back, but even we were not enough to stop them.

'I wasn't alone,' you reply, 'I had good friends watching my back.'

A fat of good your efforts made, though.

>'The defense of Rhysode was the Imperium's responsibility.' (Accusatory)
>'We couldn't stop them. Handling myself exceptionally well doesn't make up for our failure to defend the post.' (Guilt)
>Mull it over, but otherwise say nothing; turn the reins of the conversation over to Inquisitor Argus
>'Where are we going?' (Progress)
>Write-In

>>5370164
>'We couldn't stop them. Handling myself exceptionally well doesn't make up for our failure to defend the post.' (Guilt)

>>5370164
>>Mull it over, but otherwise say nothing; turn the reins of the conversation over to Inquisitor Argus


He's obviously going somewhere with this, and frankly while we might have done better, so too could others guilt over the past when we did all we could is hollow.

>>5370164
>>Mull it over, but otherwise say nothing; turn the reins of the conversation over to Inquisitor Argus

>>5370167
supporting

>>5370164
>>Mull it over, but otherwise say nothing; turn the reins of the conversation over to Inquisitor Argus

Did we ever get lewds or Morgan and Sansa yet or was it fade to black?

>>5380574
It was fade to black. I got warned last time.

>>5382601
Just post a link, or if you are paranoid, post it in the discord.

>>5382601
Didn’t you used to post the lewd in a separate link via google doc back in the Kancolle days?

I just started classes again, so sorry for the delay. Finally have my shit in order and we can all have fun tonight starting at approximately 2015 HRS +8 GMT

Roll-call!

File: Inquisitor Argus.jpg (23 KB, 400x400)

23 KB JPG

>Mull it over, but otherwise say nothing; turn the reins of the conversation over to Inquisitor Argus

Despite your best efforts, you find yourself unable to power on through. Your tongue feels too heavy to go on, the casual, lackadaisical word suddenly too much of a burden to take the lead with as your mind suddenly finds itself back in that coffin of a pod, your hands at the controls and the heat of the bombardment cooking you to a crisp. The tips of your fingers tingle at jolts of invisible static, your thumb and index finger rubbing against the invisible, non-existent control sticks, the memory of your failure now brought to the fore like a festering wound that had been torn open to bleed and fester once again. Perhaps it is just your pride, your image of yourself as a Scion to your House, failing to do justice to your name by falling so spectacularly and in such a manner that the toll finally grounds you like tether-hooks on chains, pinning you to the ground … or perhaps it was the weight of what this failure, the burning and despoiling of Rhysode truly meant to you.

People had died.

Gerard’s—

You turn the reins over to Argus, your head hanging low and your fingers loose, the reality of everything settling into a pit that you weren’t aware existed in the first place.

‘It does not make your efforts any less commendable.’

You wonder if that’s what the dead would have had to say about that.’

‘The attack was sudden and unexpected,’ Argus continued, his voice taking a matter-of-fact quality, as though he was doling out his own summation of the matter. ‘The strike was precise and calculated. As a graduate, you did more than what was expected of you holding back against an enemy of that magnitude for as long as you did. Rhysode’s loss is a tragedy, but your performance in the face of odds uncountable is commendable, even in the face of failure. I have no doubt that if those cowards had not resorted to those … deplorable tactics towards the end … no, what you have done, taking down a whole squadron of Alliance mechs by yourself … I don’t think we’ve seen such a feat in at least two decades. Do not discount your own efforts in the face of this failure, Lord Scion. It is unbecoming of you to be so humble or modest in the face of your accomplishments, even after what happened to Rhysode.’

You cock an eyebrow.

Was he trying to … cheer you up?

Odd.

‘The tragedy of Rhysode is yet another chapter in this bloody history of ours,’ he goes on, ‘but to put such failure on your shoulders alone, bearing a burden that should be put beyond doubt in the face of your firm feet and determination, I find … is unbecoming of one who wishes to wield a sword in the name of those lost. Rhysode’s burning is not your sin, Scion. Do not cite arrogance and bear the chains of your enemies just as you would those who are gone from our sight.’

>>5384431
>'Don't sugar-coat it.' (Accusatory, direct)
>'Rhysode's loss is on me. Wray put me in charge to take those bastards down and I didn't.' (Blunt)
>'I'm not so arrogant as to do that, no.' (Chuckle darkly)
>'And what does the Silver Hall have to say about all this?' (Shift the topic slightly)
>'Where are we heading?' (Progress)
>Write-In

>>5384435
>>'I'm not so arrogant as to do that, no.' (Chuckle darkly)

>>5384435

>>5384435
>'I'm not so arrogant as to do that, no.' (Chuckle darkly)

>'I'm not so arrogant as to do that, no.' (Chuckle darkly)

Your morbid sense of humor, inappropriate as it is, remains.

‘I won’t be so arrogant as to deny their side responsibility, no,’ you respond, briefly closing your eyes as you tent your fingers, feeling a wash of … restraint as you do so. ‘I must apologize for communicating that I had any intention of doing so.’

A tight smile is the precursor to a reply, the man’s eyes flashing briefly as a dark chuckle of his own rumbles from his throat, lacking in sincerity but dripping with a flow of directed contempt. ‘I wouldn’t dare insinuate such a thing, Lord Scion,’ Argus replies, a businessman’s drawl rolling off his lips. ‘I’m certain that your service would not be lacking in conduct or integrity … or focus.’

You don’t reply, at least not immediately, but you don’t hesitate either. You weren’t quite so naïve so as to wholly trust in the man sitting before you as you zoomed past apartments miles and miles up from the almost-separate universe of the hives below, going to Emperor knew where. The Inquisitorial Offices were seen as an odd bunch, and regardless of the friendliness of this man, this … Argus, you knew better than to wholly extend your hand and accept an acquaintance from the doors next to the Silver Hall without knowing more than what you knew about the man. While they weren’t quite the sword-breakers of the Imperium, you’d heard enough from your uncle and father to know that, if push came to shove, it wasn’t a role that they were entirely unwilling to step into.

The check and balances of the Imperium had to be maintained.

The War on the Golden Steps and the civil war that followed after were more than enough evidence of such an evil being necessary in these times, especially with the encroaching threat of the The Federation and their Alliance Military.

‘You carry yourself much more casually than I usually expect of Scions,’ Argus goes on, pressing the tips of his fingers against one another as his elbows rested on his lap and his brows creased in amusement. ‘Your status remains, yet you’re more than willing to be open enough to go back and forth … as you do.’

‘Being prideful doesn’t inspire confidence when you have nothing to back it up,’ you communicate, glancing out the window. ‘Maybe it’s all for the best that we find ourselves humbled, once in a while.’

‘Are you referring to Rhysode, Lord Scion?’

‘My time there,’ you clarify, ‘as a cadet, I mean.’

Argus nods, smiling mysteriously. ‘I see Fisher’s influence is strong.’

You raise your head to meet his gaze again.

You’re not sure what he’s hinting at, but …

>Ignore it (Progress)
>‘Are you insinuating something?’ (Calm)
>‘If you’re referring to our relationship, I assure you, I have every intent to have it on record. As I do Sansa’s, if need be.’ (Straightforward)
>Write-In

>>5384552
>‘If you’re referring to our relationship, I assure you, I have every intent to have it on record. As I do Sansa’s, if need be.’

>>5384552
>>‘If you’re referring to our relationship, I assure you, I have every intent to have it on record. As I do Sansa’s, if need be.’ (Straightforward)

>‘If you’re referring to our relationship, I assure you, I have every intent to have it on record. As I do Sansa’s, if need be.’ (Straightforward)

‘If there’s an implication that I’m missing with your choice of words, Inquisitor, I assure you, that I did not abuse nor do I intend on approaching the truth of my relationship with Instructor Fisher as though it’s a scandal in the making,’ you reply, coolly, straightening up slightly as your eye catches the sight of a set of ships refueling from titanic cylinders some half a mile above and another five away, large cables trailing from the former down to the latter, likely getting ready for a warp jump within the next few hours … or days, depending on the coordinates. ‘I have every intention of having it on record … as I would for Miss Wilmots.’

Argus shrugs in a half-defeated, half-uncaring matter. The transport enters another tunnel, the glowing eyes of your bodyguards and his making for a three-color standoff in the dark. His jaw shifts slightly, the shadows and light framing what is an unmistakable smirk.

‘I wasn’t trying to imply anything, Lord Scion,’ Argus backtracks, or gives the best impression of one that he can muster given the situation. ‘Nor am I, of course, thinking of standing between your relationship with whoever you wish to bring to your bed.

‘Merely … well, it is a mere thought of mine.’

He’s too flippant for your liking.

‘I thought that Scions and their mistresses were meant to make bastards.’

You don’t like where he’s going with this.

‘Considering Instructor Fisher’s condition, it seems that such an endeavor would be rather .. futile, wouldn’t you say?’

The transport exits the tunnel.

>Write-In

Need to go back to previous threads to check something. I remember something about a fertility operation she qualified for.

>>5384665
>Never underestimate the resources and will of a scion.

>>5384672
If I remember right, she was rendered infertile due to the incident where her legs were lost.

>>5384675
Found it: End of Recode thread 3. She is fertile due to a Yutani Medical treatment.

>>5384675
That she is. Or rather, she basically cooked to the point her eggs are too weak to survive.

>>5384665
>(smirk) Unless her injuries during the attack changed things, Yutani Medical says that "her uterine walls and all other reproduction capacities of the fallopian tube have been restored to a point above the average expected risk median."

>>5384665
>>5384674
Changing my vote from
>Never underestimate the resources and will of a scion.
to
>(smirk) Unless her injuries during the attack changed things, Yutani Medical says that "her uterine walls and all other reproduction capacities of the fallopian tube have been restored to a point above the average expected risk median."

>>5384665
>>5384680
This

>>5384683
supportin

>>5384665
>>5384680
+1

I'll be running later if you guys would like to play?

>>5385206
here

>>5385206
Fuck it sure

>(smirk) Unless her injuries during the attack changed things, Yutani Medical says that "her uterine walls and all other reproduction capacities of the fallopian tube have been restored to a point above the average expected risk median."

Perhaps it was pure arrogance on your part for doing so, but you couldn’t help but smirk—if only a little—at the fact that you, of all the people, are able to cut a conclusion of the Inquisitor’s so flippantly with an information strike of your own.

‘Unless I’ve been unable to follow through with the updates of the situation, I believe the restorative process of her reproductive capabilities have been going well enough, at least by her reckoning,’ you reply, not quite as flippantly as you would like to sound but definitely smug enough to place your own piece next to his own attempt at … whatever he wished to pry out of such an attempt in the first place, continuing, ‘and even if she wasn’t, Inquisitor, such a consideration would not have affected how I view Morrigan in the least.’

‘Her presence would have some semblance of value for your House, even as a Mistress,’ Argus powers on, thoroughly missing the point of what you tried to push … or was ignoring it in lieu of his own commentary on the matter, anyway. ‘I don’t believe that there are so few in your echelon that would devalue of the deeds of The White Hawk of Arrakis … unless, of course, you choose to delve into the matters of unions and labor articles. Although, again, I believe that would be your father’s area of expertise at present, more than it would be yours, Lord Scion.’

You decide to follow his lead and ignore his input in favor of your own insistence on the matter. ‘Should Morrigan and I decide to take this so-called mandatory life-cycle of my practice as an heir to my House, it would be one that we will make on our own terms and volition; but unlike what you have previously assumed, I trust Yutani Medical to not risk their reputation on making such a claim in error.’

‘Trust in your fellow man?’

You snort. ‘A trust in the nature of perception and value. Yutani Medical would never risk themselves as a House Subsidiary; claims and declarations, bold and apparent, on the backs of the words of entities and manifestations … with eyes watching and ear listening, would never be made without substance, lest they face humiliation and loss beyond repair.’

He wears an enigmatic expression, his soldiers shifting slightly as the transport curves around a corner. ‘Yutani … it’s strange that you would have made such an arrangement, considering that they aren’t one of yours, Lord Scion.’

‘I was not the one that made the arrangement.’

He quirks an interested eyebrow.

‘Oh?’

You wonder if you’d said a little too much there …

>Write-In
>Progress

>>5386358
>>Progress

>>5386358
>Progress

>>5386358
>>Progress

>>5386358
>>Progress