Rogue Trader (Now Made Fancier)

Lord Captain's Log -- Third

En route to Footfall

Damn this entire method of travel. We encountered a warpstorm that our illustrious Navigator somehow completely failed to predict. The plasma drives overheated, killing a handful of men and nearly driving the crew into a mass panic. I asserted control over the damn sheep as soon as I was roused by crewman Hans.
Jux tells me that the Luxury had blood seeping up through the consoles. Lovely.


The strangeness of the warp still suprises me. According to the dockmaster, we left port no more then twelve hours ago. I had heard that unexpected encounters in the warp can sometimes cause journeys to become shorter or longer than intended, but this is rather absurd. I can only hope we don’t arrive at footfall the next time a millenia after we left.

Antonello was of course suprised that we were back so soon, but upon presenting the bounty of ships and slaves I had aquired for him, he readily believed we had done our work so quickly, and I was able to spin it off as our own efficacy rather than the fickle nature of warp travel. This man may be a savvy merchant, but his mood is easier to pilot than any ship of which I’ve manned the helm; upon telling him of our next move, I was able to requisition through him supplies for the journey. Jux was afforded a supply of specially made ammo for those slug throwers he’s so fond of, and Notch quickly became very fond of his new power fist.

Orbit of Uncharted Planet

The situation is not entirely ideal, but it is a good deal better than I had hoped. Whatever the origional source of the Orks that spelled the unfortunate end of my father, they have moved on. Not a single void ship or Rok in any of our exhaustive auger scans. Unfortunately, their rather persistant taint has touched the world below, and a colony of the damnable creatures has spread across the majority of one of the smaller continents. They seem to have no support from their progenitors; the level of technology we could detect was primitve, built with whatever materials they found on the planet they sprung up on, no doubt. I have ordered the orbital bombardment of the infected continent, and we will spend the next several days scorching the infestation from the soil with both ships.

The planet seems otherwise ideal for an agricultural world, and given it’s relative proximity to Footfall, which must rely on imports and hydroponics, being simply a mass of rocks chained together, it is quite the prize indeed.

Surface of Uncharted Planet

Whilst personally seeing to the thorough burning of any terrain that managed to survive our bombardment, my troop was set on by a band of surviving orks. Their primitive guns and clubs posed little issue at first, but…

Honestly, I had heard that Ork technology was sometimes infathomable. I still cannot seem to accept the fact that the apparent leader of the Orks was somehow able to mount boulders to his rocket launcher looking device and fire them into my crew. There was no apparent means of holding the large rock still once it was attached, and no explanation of how the small bang caused by pulling the trigger propelled it along such a stable course. We lost a good thirty men before Notch managed to introduce the green creature rather intimitely to a filament grenade.

I myself engaged a few of the beasts in melee combat and found them to be clumsy opponents at best. The one with the club could not seem to grasp that he continued to miss simply because I was weaving back and forth. The one with the gun had suprisingly good aim, but could not seem to comprehend the force field that continually deflected his shots. They likely would not have penetrated my armor with such a weapon anyway; it was very expensive and time consumingly constructed. I do have to admit that the beasts take an inordinate amount of punishment before being put down, and simply refuse to flee if engaged in direct combat. After I destroyed the Ork’s club with a flick of my power sword, he simply took to punching me. Seeing as he was undettered when his fist impacted simply on my force field, I crippled it with another stroke. Yet still, he continued to punch with the other arm, impacting uselessly on my carapace armor before I finally struck through a leg and ended him.

Notch believe the scans have found technology that is not Orkish in origin below the ground. I have allowed him to explore these findings while I see to it that every last bit of the infestation is burned away.



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