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When last we left our heroes, Boots -- AKA Deo Bertone -- had been invited to a meeting of the Bookbinder’s Club, to be held that night, the invitation to which had been delivered to the sausage shop. Interestingly, none of the employees of the sausage shop are members of The Chain, which means someone’s intelligence is excellent to have ferreted out that the store is a front and whose front it is. And also, King received a message from angel via the diplomat’s pouch saying that ‘the college kid’ wanted to meet up.
When Marcellus Scipio sees King enter the Dancing Minstrel, he tells King, “We need to talk, but not here.”
“Sure, lead the way.”
Marcellus Scipio leads him to a carpet, which ultimately takes them to a much nicer tavern which Marcellus refers to as ‘The Cup of Blood’ but the sign outside of said tavern says “the Wine Chalice”. Scipio tells King that he believes the problem of Lady Orozivaar has been solved by the moon elf. He’s not entirely sure exactly what happened, but he petitioned the Pale Light for help and Lady Orozivaar was gone.
King wants to know what he means, gone. Scipio says he’s not sure, but he thinks Pale Light moved Lady Orozivaar through time, maybe for weeks, maybe months. They don’t know how far ahead, but Lady Orozivaar will come back. Scipio says he wants King to know that he thinks they did the right thing by not just eliminating Lady Orozivaar, but that bringing her to the Sapphire Sky wasn’t the best next course. That’s not really their purpose. They’re dedicated to eradicating evil, no matter where it’s found, so they couldn’t countenance doing evil to protect The Chain.
Scipio tells King to be careful not to tell Vile Silencer too much and that they need to not bring a problem like Lady Orozivaar again.
Scipio asks how it’s going in Ringwell. King catches him up on the most recent developments in Ringwell, including the viral autophage and the Cauldron of Xorronon [sp]. King gives Marcellus Scipio a copy of the map and says that the floor they’ve explored seems to be primarily have been used to store items of great evil.
King tells him they’re currently blocked from further access to Ringwell. Lady Violentia, currently trapped in the godblind, appears to be their only lead for getting further into Ringwell. He says as far as they know, the only way to free her is to either gather several gemstone dragonborn together or to use Slim’s stone to bring the wall down.
Scipio says he’ll talk to the Vile Silencer to see if they can find a replacement for Slim’s crystal so they can be free to let Lady Violentia out of her trap, in the hopes that she’ll tell them the way into Ringwell. Scipio orders food, then asks King, “Let me ask you a personal question. Why did you join The Chain? You could have killed Lady Orozivaar and I’m going to guess, based on what I know of the senior command of The Chain, at least one of them must have lobbied to take the easy path and silence her forever, and you said no. Why does somebody like that join The Chain? If you don’t want to talk about it, I understand.”
King says, “No, it’s okay. I didn’t have a home to go back to. I met a senior officer of The Chain and he showed me that even when there’s no home to go back to, you can make one. He eventually became the Commander of The Chain.”
Scipio wants to know, “Why couldn’t you go home? No, never mind. That’s none of my business. I’ve vouched for you and now, having seen some of you, if you ever need somewhere to go, come to me.”
They discuss how best The Chain can use what they find in Ringwell and Scipio says, “You’re looking for ways to stop Ajax. It’s not my place to tell you your business, but perhaps you should leave what’s good to us.” The subtext is that they should keep what’s evil to use in their quest.
They part ways, with Scipio agreeing to try to find a replacement for Slim’s crystal. He’s pretty confident that, with the resources of the Vile Silencer and the Sky, that they’ll be able to find something that makes everyone happy.
****************************************
Boots had received a cryptic invitation to the Bookbinder’s Club. At the Dancing Minstrel, he learns where the Bookbinder’s Club is located in a very posh part of town (called Castor gate?). Boots recalls that the Bookbinder’s Club, while not famous, is known to be a gentlemans’ club. It’s a place where rich Riojan nobles go to hang out.
Boots changes into his fancy clothing in preparation for his date and uses prestidigitation to make himself even more presentable. Boots chooses to take a coach, so he arrives looking very fashionable. As he exits the coach, he sees an old, tall multistory building with an open book on the sign. It’s well lit inside, with warm light coming through the frosted glass. He can see people moving inside.
Boots approaches the door and knocks, which opens immediately. A butler or majordomo opens the door and says, “Sir?”
Boots presents his invitation.
“Ah, this way, sir.”
He leads Boots through rooms filled with nobles. There are quite a lot of knick knacks from all over the world decorating the rooms, remnants of empire. There are noblemen walking around, having after dinner tea, talking to each other. There’s a thick layer of smoke hanging over the whole place. The servant leads Boots to a small table, almost a coffee table, in a nook separate from everyone else. He says, “Lord Latimer will be with you shortly. Would you like something to drink?”
Boots orders a coffee, and in short order a slim noble with white hair approaches. As he’s about to sit with Boots, someone approaches him, “Lord Latimer.” Lord Latimer makes his excuses to the noble and plans to speak with him later, then sits down with Boots.
They exchange introductions. Boots is curious as to how and why Lord Latimer caused the invitation to be delivered. Lord Latimer offers compliments for Angel, who is quite good at what he does, but not quite as good as their organization. He says, “We know you’re working on something. We know it’s big, and we want to help.”
Boots says, “Yeah? Go on.”
Latimer says, “We’re lacking on details, but we’re fairly certain you’re working to stop Ajax. You don’t seem terribly concerned about what happens to Capital, but if there’s any way for us to help, we wish to help. We lack specifics, but if there’s something my organization to do to help you,, that would be a wonderful opportunity to trade favors.”
Boots asks for and receives a cigar from the servant, and relaxes into his chair to continue the conversation. Latimer says, “My organization has quite a lot of resources in the city and if there’s anything we can do, we’re here to help.”
Boots says, “I’ve been out of the city for a while. What, exactly, is it your organization does?’
“Oh, how rude of me.” Latimer takes a card out of a silver case and hands it to Boots. It says, “Lord Latimer, City Manager, Acteon School.”
Latimer says something about their interests overlapping and Boots agrees. Boots suggests that there is a problem with there not being any unified military forces in the city.
Latimer agrees and enumerates the forces The Chain has at their disposal. Boots says they’re not politicians and perhaps that hinders them somewhat, but that may change. He tells Latimer that they’re concerned that when Ajax arrives, if there’s no unified force to oppose him and if the city is fighting against itself, things might go badly, but that if the city had been unified -- perhaps behind a prince -- the odds might be more in their favor.”
Latimer asks if Boots has any ideas who might be eligible for such a position. Boots takes his own card out of a silver case and slides it over to Latimer, making a small joke.
Latimer asks what they’re doing in Collinsgate. Boots says they’re doing a bit of excavation. Latimer assumes, “Ah, into the Layers.” Then he wants to know, “If Ajax were to arrive here, and given the current situation in Capital, who would The Chain back?”
Boots prevaricates a bit, saying that they haven’t had audiences with all of the players in the city. Latimer mentions their meeting with Lady Shirome and the Twelve Dragons. Boots says that was a nice refresher. Latimer says that these political waters must be rough seas for mercenaries. Boots agrees, then says that not only do they lack knowledge about the political players, but that it doesn’t really matter much to them who is ultimately in charge, as long as someone is.
Latimer offers Boots a literal blank check, saying that if there’s anything they can do to help, he hopes The Chain will come to them.
Latimer asks about Boots’ family. Boots asks if Latimer knows about the current whereabouts of Boots’ father or family. Latimer says they don’t, but he imagines that would be fairly simple to discover. Boots mentions that he’s been out of the city for a while and it would be useful to know what happened to his family.
Latimer wants to know what kind of outcome Boots hopes for. Boots says they’ve been looking for any unclaimed strongholds or lands in the city. Latimer says it can be difficult to come by those things without making enemies. Boots says, “We find it easier to deal with enemies than with real estate.”
Boots asks, “If you were to choose someone to be the prince, who and why?”
Latimer says, “Tricky to say. If I had my own way, I’d want the old prince back, but if I were a betting man, I’d bet on House Alvaro.”
Boots asks, “Why?”
Latimer replies, “Well, because I think we’ll win.”
Boots asks, “Would you say that, in your estimation, the military force of House Alvaro is the strongest among the Houses in Capital?”
Latimer replies that they frequently run war games and that they’ve found that a single house is seldom powerful enough to win, but via alliances they can put together a world beater. It all depends on how the game plays out.
Boots agrees.
Latimer asks, “This digging operation you’re mounting in Collinsgate, am I safe to assume that it furthers your goal of pursuing Ajax’s wizard?
Boots says, “In a way, yes. It should provide us allies and tools to help us carry out this job.”
Latimer asks, “Is there any way we can help?”
Boots says, “I’m sure there is. Again, Lord Latimer, you’ll have to forgive me. I’m rusty at politics. In the hypothetical situation where you were to have a military force to move into an unclaimed part of the city, what would the ramifications of that be?”
Lord Latimer says, “That’s not an unknown situation here.”
They discuss the Twelve Dragons attempted takeover of the Pellet, then Latimer says, “I imagine the answer to your question would depend on who tried to take over said unclaimed territory and what their alliances were.” Lord Latimer intimates that they would turn a blind eye towards The Chain if they were to take over a territory if they were allied with House Alvaro, but if they thought The Chain was allied with, for instance, Lady Shirome, they might expect some pushback.
Boots tells him that this is an apolitical third party they’re undertaking the project in the Collinsgate for, which Latimer doubts, calling the idea of an apolitical third party something of a unicorn. Latimer tries to dig for more information about who this third party might be. He asks if they’re trying to fulfill a contract or engaging in this digging operation for themselves.
Boots says that it might be a bit of both, but that they’re playing things close to the chest. Latimer says that they might be inclined to turn a blind eye to what The Chain is after if The Chain is frank with them and says, for instance, if they were to divulge the name of what they’re digging after.
Boots is reluctant to say much, but that they call upon them at need. Latimer says that he’d hoped to come to some understanding among gentlemen. Boots notes that he’s literally been given a blank check and says that some reciprocation is probably appropriate. Boots asks if Latimer has heard of the Sapphire Sky and says, “That’s the name of our unicorn.”
Latimer says that the Sapphire Sky’s goals must align with The Chain’s. Boots says that they do for the most part at the moment, but that it’s more about some people not being interested in sullying their hands with things that The Chain might be more willing to do.
Latimer says a lot of words that boil down to he understands that The Chain might be willing to go a bit beyond the letter in order to fulfill their prior contract to eliminate Ajax’s wizard and that he hopes they will be able to be of some service to The Chain in the future.
*************************************
The rest of The Chain went back to the Dancing Minstrel while King and Boots kept their dates and everyone spends the night. Boots slaps down the black check on the table where the rest of the senior officers are sitting and says, “Anyone want to buy this district?” Boots explains that it came from Lord Latimer, member of House Alvaro and what happened during his meeting with Lord Latimer.
Slim takes the check and looks at it. To his eyes, it looks like a very short contract. Slims clarifies, “You can write in any number you want.” Boots agrees. Slim says, “What kind of lascivious act did you have to do to get this?”
Boots explains that Latimer wants them to cause the war that ultimately they’ll use to put a new prince on the throne.
The morning broadsheets says, “Twelve Dragons refuse to vacate City Building; Red Falcons surround them.”
Lady Antonia is quoted in the article saying that the Twelve Dragons have no authority in the Pellet and that if need be, the Red Falcons will evict them.
Boots suggests that they might be able to help Lady Antonia by siccing Lord de Corano on the Twelve Dragons.
A package is delivered to King. It’s wrapped in butcher’s paper, tied with twine. It says, “From Marcellus.”
Slim says, “Why would we do that? We don’t owe the Red Falcons anything.”
While they discuss what, if anything, they’re going to do about the Twelve Dragons, King opens the package and finds inside some silver bracers of Gith origin that would do approximately what Slim’s crystal does. The “Silver Bands of Vlackith”. He hands them to Slim and says, “We can keep those if we use the psionic crystal to take down the barrier and free Lady Violentia.” Slim says, “It’s really up to you. You gave me the crystal to use. If you want to use it to free Lady Violentia, then that’s what we’ll do.” Slim hands the crystal back to King in exchange for the bracers.
Boots says if they could leverage his new relationship with Lord Latimer to encourage de Corano to get the Twelve Dragons out, they might be able to take it over as their stronghold in Capital. King initially hinks they’re better off staying close to the entrance they found to Ringwell, but then starts thinking about how defensible the Library is and the wealth of information available there -- and that it would hinder Lady Shirome’s ability to access the information within.
Leech asks King about his meeting with Marcellus. King starts to explain their discussion, then says they shouldn’t talk about it here. Zorj and his lieutenant walk into the Dancing Minstrel. Zorj looks around the common room, sees their table, then walks over with his lieutenant behind him. He says, “The Chain of Acheron, lately decamped from The Stays and now staying in our district. How lucky for us. Killed that dragon though. Did they have to do that?”
His lieutenant says, “Sir, no they did not.”
“No they did not. And stopped that FUNGUS was eatin’ everyone, stayed to help clean up. What do you make of that?”
“Very civic minded, I’d say sir.”
“Very civic minded indeed. But your men, five of your men, get drunk and in a fight with some bofrom House Alvaro. [he spits] Eh, I take ‘em down to the jail, give ‘em a slap on the wrist and LET ‘EM GO! A favor! Between the Prince’s Men! But who’s men are you really?”
He says that Lady Antonia seems to be a very good judge of character, but, “Hey! Don’t look at him, look at me! I’m the law here! Law is the only thing keeping this city together. Seems to me like we need some kinda...agreement, if you’re going to set up SHOP in my district. You wear the Prince’s symbol and you need to do the job, same as we do. Do you intend to stay, helping to clean up, enforcing the law?”
King says, “Sure, we can spare some men for that. We’ve been cleaning up where we’re staying.”
The senior officers say their men who were disturbing the peace will be disciplined. Zorj says if they want to stay, they’re doing to have to do the work. They carry the Prince’s seal, which isn’t just a pretty ornament.
King asks what he wants them to do. Zorj starts listing off problems that have happened within the city: break-ins, theft, murder.
Leech suggests they attach the five rankers who disturbed the peace to Zorj's unit. They’ll provide community service as their punishment. Zorj verifies that they have six seals of the Prince and says he wants six members of The Chain for his force.
The doors to the Dancing Minstrel and a dark and evil presence enters the room. Her boots leave burned, smouldering marks on the wood floor as she walks in and approaches Zorj. She’s wearing black armor, with a black cloak over it, and is dressed as a chivalric knight. Her face shows eons of decay. There’s black smoke slowly emanating off her her shoulders. She walks up to Zorj, who recoils. People in the inn start filing out.
The death knight says to Zorj, in a hollow voice that sounds like it’s coming from a great distance, echoing from a mausoleum, “There is an item here in the city, in your district. My lady demands it.”
Zorj turns to Spindthrift and says, “Do you have any idea what she’s talking about?”
“A rod. This long. Black and gold. A hawk’s head atop it. Find this thing, deliver it to me, and live. You have one day,” she says.
Zorj looks at her and says, “You don’t come into MY city like you’re the prince himself. Who are you? And who is your master?”
She walks toward the door, then turns back and says, “You have one day, dwarf, or I will burn out your brain.” After delivering this threat, she dissolves into black smoke.
Zorj and The Chain bicker a bit about the appearance of this death knight and who she was, then he tells them where the police station is and King says they’ll have the rankers report to him for community service. Zorj leaves and The Chain decide to go to the candle shop where they can discuss what just happened confidentially.
They enter the candle shop clandestinely and King says, “I made the call on Lady Orozivaar. I wasn’t okay with the idea of just killing her. She hadn’t done anything wrong. I mean, I didn’t like her, but that’s not… I have a hard time seeing the rod of Count von Glauer as just a tool. I think it’s dangerous. It’s dangerous to us. That disease, whatever it is, is dangerous to everybody, innocent people., and it should be destroyed. Maybe we need things like that to fight Ajax. Probably we do, but if it’s up to me, that’s not how we do things. That’s not how we win. So maybe it shouldn’t be up to me. The Chain needs to be able to do what’s necessary. Forget what I think. And I’m not the Commander. I guess I’m not by any means necessary, so according to the by-laws of the company, I’m calling for a vote of no confidence. According to the Chronicle, it requires a majority of the senior officers to vote no confidence, and the Commander doesn’t get a vote. That leaves four senior officers, which is not enough for a quorum, so Leech, you’re promoted to senior. Welcome to the command structure of The Chain.”
Angel, who was in the candle shop when they arrived, says, “I think I’d better go.”
They debate a bit about what to do with evil artifacts, if finding these items causes conflict with, for instance, the undead organization. Slim wants to know what King would do if a new commander ordered him to kill Lady Orozivaar. King says, “I think I’ve already answered that. I’d let her go. I don’t think it would be right for The Chain because we’d make enemies of the next largest organization in the city. The Chain is my family and I will do what is best for The Chain.”
Judge thinks they need a commander who can ride the line in the middle and votes no confidence.
Boots votes no confidence. Copper votes for confidence. He feels that King provides a necessary balance to keep The Chain from going too dark. Slim says The Chain is a mercenary company and the survival and well being of the company should come before any sentimental feelings. He votes no confidence. Leech abstains from voting, since the decision had already been reached. He says, “Commander, it’s been a pleasure to serve under you.”
Now they have to choose a new commander. King nominates Slim. Slim says, “I will be a magnificent commander and lead you all to battle!”
Judge nominates Boots. "In the name of diplomacy, considering they’re in Capital..." Slim interrupts, “Boots spilled the beans! He’s got diarrhea of the mouth!”
"...and that this is his home town and he is more familiar with the politics, his knowledge is useful."
Leech seconds the nomination for Boots. Copper seconds the nomination for Slim.
Slim says, “I’m new here. I would like to see what Judge can do,” declining the nomination. The nomination is then down to Judge vs Boots. The chronicle says that a vote for a new commander must be done by a secret ballot. The result of the voting is that Judge is the new commander of The Chain of Acheron.
Judge continues Boots as the lieutenant. Leech tells Odie to celebrate Judge’s ascension to commander, so he dances around Judge’s shoulders, “All hail the new commander.” Then he goes back to Leech and says, “Judge is going to kill you. He’s always hated you.”
Slim says to Judge, “Do not disappoint us.”
King says, “Commander, what are you orders?”
Judge says he believes they should still go release the woman wearing the guise of Lady Violentia. Leech asks Odie what happened when he went to poke the contents of the cauldron. Odie whimpers, “Eyes, teeth, AH!” Leech says, “You were terrified?” Odie confirms that he was.
Judge asks King about what happened with Marcellus Scipio. Gives her more information about that meeting and that Scipio said they need more lore and that The Chain should not rely upon them to take care of problems like Lady Orozivaar.
They ask Leech what happened to the worm they took from the autophage. He brings out the vial and they see that the worm itself appears to be dead, but there is still a floating mote in there, which was the precursor to the formation of the worms. They talk about telling the Sapphire Sky about the autophage and decide against it. King wants them to take it back to Ringwell, the only safe place to hold it, but Judge says other people are coming for Ringwell and they don’t want anyone else to have it. King says, “I’d be more comfortable with it in the bag of holding than with Leech.”
Judge asks King to bring Angel back. King sends him a note in the diplomat’s pouch. Angel comes back quickly, smoking. Judge informs him about the change in command and that Boots will continue as lieutenant and asks him to take the news back to the company. Judge musters the senior officers to go back to the godblind and use the psionic crystal to free the woman trapped there.
Because the woman in the godblind has already lied to them about who she is, Judge suggests they take precautions before letting her go. Copper and Boots block the exits. Once they have their assignments, everyone enters the godblind. When they walk in, she stands up. Slim says, “Be prepared to move out of the circle. I don’t know how long the wall will stay down.” She says, “Ah. I wondered when this would happen. What can I do for you, Commander?”
Judge explains that they have a crystal that should free her and they need her to be ready to move. Judge says, “I believe we had an agreement that upon your release we would talk about where you are from and how to get through the door.”
She replies, “I recall telling you that I’d help you get through the door, but I don’t believe we discussed me telling you where I was from, but we do have interests that align.”
Slim steps up and says to the woman, “If you betray us, I will gut you.”
She says, “I believe you would.”
Slim activates the crystal, which glows. It wreaths his sword in energy. As the crystal glows more brightly, the wall goes down. When the wall disappears, the light in the crystal goes out and Lady Violentia steps out. The ward in the floor fizzles out and turns dull, so that it’s almost impossible to tell that it’s there.
Lady Violentia bows and says, “I am in your debt. What do you want to talk about?”
Boots takes a water skin out of his pack and offers it to Lady Violentia. She says, “I think the charade of me pretending to be human is no longer necessary. What do you want to talk about?”
Judge asks how to get through the door without a wish. She says that the Emperor gave all of the heads of the Houses a key. She says she believes the Houses are still in possession of keys, but that they don’t know what they have. She says the keys are probably locked away with a bunch of curios and should be trivial to steal for the greatest thief in the world.
Leech asks if she’s the greatest thief in the world. She says, “Modesty prevents me from saying. Say better that I am the cause of thievery in others.” She leads them to the door and explains how the door works. The key will turn off the seal to allow them to pass through the door. “All you have to do is decide whose house to burgle.”
Judge asks, “So what happens to you now? Do you go back to the Blackiron Pact to join their ranks again as an infiltrator?”
Boots says, “Or you join The Chain!”
She replies, “For me it’s back to business. I think my relationship with the Blackiron Pact is at an end, but I imagine yours is not. I’ll give you one more piece of information out of the goodness of my… what do they call it?... heart. The Blackiron Pact operates out of their own manifold, which can be accessed through one of their rings.”
Boots asks how you access the manifold with one of the rings. She explains how it works.
Leech asks why she infiltrated the Blackiron Pact. She says, “Leech, let’s be professional. I wouldn’t ask you why you joined The Chain of Acheron. That’s personal.”
Slim asks, if she’s so in with thieves, if she can get them a key. She says that most people try very hard not to do business with her, and that she’s sure that they have some quite good thieves in their employ, but if they try and fail they can talk to her. She has a diplomat’s pouch they can use to get in touch with her.
They take their leave of each other as she says, “Normally when the head of an organization is indisposed, there is a war of succession. I need to go.”
They spend some time deciding if they want the key enough to steal one -- they do. Next they discuss which House they’d want to burgle. They realize that if the Emperor gave keys to all of the great houses of his time, there may be more keys out there in the possession of descendants after their houses collapsed. They discuss going to the Library to find out who those families might have been.
King brings up that there’s one other problem, regarding the rod of Count von Glauer. They discuss a couple of plans about how to save Zorj without necessarily giving up the rod. Boots suggests that they might be able to lure the death knight into the god blind and trap her in the same place Lady Violentia was. King points out, “She named Zorj and threatened his life. If you do this, he’ll be in our debt. It might be to our advantage to have him in our debt and to unify two factions of the Prince’s men.”

Another short one today, hope you guys like it!
"You have lost. Concede and we shall be merciful." Said the Carickian Counselor.
"If I may ask, Counselor, what makes you think we have lost?" General Grahm asked.
"Your home world is gone. It fell to our fleet just a rotation ago. The surface has been turned to glass."
" Ah. I see. Well, Counselor, I feel I have to tell you three things. First, I would like to explain to you the word 'paranoia'. I'm not sure if it translates properly, or even if you can understand it properly. The word means 'the belief that someone, somewhere, is out to get you'. It is an old word to our people, born of thousands of years of betrayal, and treachery."
"Why should I care for your words? Soon, your kind will speak my language, as our slaves!" The Carickian Counselor clicked it's mandible in mirth at the thought. Humans had caused his people nothing but problems since they had entered into the Galactic political scene almost a decade ago.
"Second," the General continued, ignoring the interruption, "the world you detstroyed was not our home world. It is merely the world where we were discovered and brought here, before the Galactic Legal Quarum. We are a paranoid species, as I said, and decided not to correct your misinterpretation."
"LIES! The Carickian Fleet has destroyed your home! We have conquered you! Your entire species is FORFEIT to us!" The Counselor was gesticulating wildly with his forelimbs His mirth being replaced quickly with distress.
"Finally, Counselor, my people followed your fleet back to your home world. The Second Terran Combat Fleet should be arriving out of warp shortly." The General signalled a junior officer who applied an FTL video signal to the main viewing screen in the chamber, where all the representative species could see the video. A single world, hung in a starfield, with some orbital shipyards and a fleet of nearly a hundred ships dotted around it. As they watched, a ship dropped into normal space, followed by another, and then another, and and then two more. Then five, then twenty, then a hundred, more kept coming.
"Now counselor, either you concede, unconditionally, or we will wipe you out. We do not keep slaves. A slave is just an enemy you let into your home. You have 30 seconds."
No one moved. No one spoke. The Carickian Counselor stood frozen. The horror of the situation had caused him to lock up.
"Twenty seconds Counselor. Do decide quickly whether or not we should retaliate for you killing over half a billion Terrans. Do you surrender?" The Carickian swivelled it's head from the monitor to the general, who stood by passively. After another few seconds he lifted his commpad and triggered a comm channel.
"This is General Grahm, all ships target Carickian home world, and prepare to fire on my order."
"Aye aye, General, all ships targeting the Carickian Homeworld. Waiting for your command sir."
"Ten seconds Counselor."
"Five."
"Four."
"Three."
"Two."
"MERCY! WE SURRENDER! STAY YOUR WEAPONS!"
"Unconditionally?"
"Yes! Yes! Unconditionally!"
"Does the Quorum recognize the surrender?" Asked the general.
All around blue lights signalled that the surrender was aknowledged by the now incredulous members of the Quorum. The Human strategy was brutally efficient. Several hostile species decided to step back and reevaluate thier position towards the Humans.
"Surrender accepted. Battle fleet, stand down, begin blockades. The enemy has surrendered."
The General turned back to the Counselor, and said "We will take your weapons, and your military will be disbanded. We will guard you, and fight for you when you are in the right of a dispute. You will learn to cohabitate with humans, we will integrate our cultures, where possible. You may now spend your time focusing on industry and the Arts. This may be the best thing to have ever happened to you as a species. Good day, gentlebeings."
The word 'paranoia' now exists in every known language in the Galaxy.

Pic #3 is our missing guy
We're currently renting a home that came with three ceiling glass lamps in the kitchen. Unfortunately when we tried changing the lightbulb for one of them, the lamp broke. The house is several years old so I'm not even sure if they make these anymore, but if anyone can help out that would be great.
Description/dimensions for the lamp:

• Turquoise
  
• Length: 10"
  
• Diameter of ends: 2.5"
  
• Circumference of middle: about 12" and some
  
• As you can see in the images of the yellow and crimson lamps, there are also three holes for the those metal screw pieces at the top.
  

Thanks!

Peyari seemed somewhat popular, so I did another thing on him and his Chapter.
WARNING: It's entirely a 'background/character' piece. No biffing today, I'm afraid. Thought I'd let you know straight away so's you can skip it over if that's what you were looking for.
GATEWAY
"Cool air, clean breeze, hospitality."
Curated spiderwebs thrummed at a pitch below hearing, a resonance intended to calm the mind - latticed as they were above the crisp Refuge - but they put Hyrloc more in the mind of unseen enemies, shadows at the corners of his eyes. Eight-legged assassins creeping down delicate strands to sink their venom into his flesh. He shivered even in the warmth of Seasonturn, and hurried on, keeping his eyes purposefully downcast.
Yes, blind yourself to our strike, the webs seemed to whisper, That will make it so much easier. Emperor on Terra, the open sky and all its arachnids terrified him. To be back on the Jurisprudence and all those comforting layers of void shields...
Hyrloc’s slippered feet made no sound on the marble paving stones that formed the walkway between the inner tiers of the Eternal Palace and the outlying domiciles. He had but recently returned to the world of his birth, but already, the void-hunger was in him, the wanderlust that was both the fortune and doom of House Lombard. They had made their wealth and power on the back of starbound iron, at broadside range.
The earthly planet of Kysis and the unbearably temporal politics of its Malebranche - that quarrelling council - had lost their lustre for Hyrloc many years ago. But some matters could not be resolved by seconds and intermediaries. House Lombard had to be represented at crucial junctures. There were fetters on his freedom, chains that not even a warship could break.
Pine-and-peach scents reached him on the soft breeze, the tidy hedges, trimmed trees and dark-liveried servants in the shadows all seeming to waver and bow. If he but gestured, he could call forth any pleasure of the Palace he required.
Anything but burning out the scuttlers with a few tanks of promethium, he scowled. Well - nothing was perfect.
Hyrloc pulled at the uncomfortable Palace robes as he walked. Yes, nothing was perfect, not least the polite but firm exchange of his rugged kit for this threadbare, faintly mauve… thing. It hung loosely in all the wrong places, intended for a waddling functionary or planet-bound noble rather than the rake-thin knot of muscle that constant exertion on a voidship provided. He was a hawk dressed up in a chicken’s plumage, and Throne was it humiliating.
Precisely the intended effect, no doubt. The Planetary Governor’s position was precarious at the best of times. Every trick in the labyrinth of social etiquette was being exhumed and deployed - Hyrloc had seen the war crimes of fashion being committed upon waiting petitioners. It was a political slaughter. And it wouldn’t hold. Not for much longer.
And worse, unintended targets had been caught in the crossfire. Hyrloc’s unerring steps were taking him to the Royal Apartments (What Royals? he thought, We haven’t had a king or queen since pre-Foundation days!) where outworlders were respectfully housed in middling comfort until they were seen - or further discomfort could be heaped upon them.
That these guests hadn’t yet stormed the Palace was a testament much more to their patience and forbearance than Kysian hospitality. And - yes - he hadn’t mistaken it.
As he reached the solemn door of the Blue House - coloured a solid bronze because of course it was - he took a moment to collect himself, straighten his shabby robes and take a discreet measure of his surroundings. There were no more servants to be seen here. They had the good sense to leave the inhabitants to their means. There was something else, too.
Cautiously, Hyrloc lifted his head to the sky. Clear, beautifully clear, with the exception of the Maledictum’s faint, far-off bruise. No tracery, no silvery lines, and no aerial assassins. Just behind the flowery tangs, the hard smell of spent flamer cells.
He couldn’t help the grin that spread over his face. Yes, it was just like mother - rest her soul - had said. He raised his hand to the knocker, and-
Stopped, sweat springing from his forehead. There was something dimly reflected in the door. Behind him. A skull-faced giant in dull armour, hefting a rifle that a three-man team of voidsmen would struggle to operate with practised ease. Completely silent, despite the divine complexity of its powered suit. Hyrloc could feel the eyes on him, judging, weighing, considering.
In the void, he was the commander of an Imperial warship. In matters of trade and diplomacy, he was a merchant prince of a long line. Here, he was a bug waiting for the boot to fall.
The door clicked, hummed, and opened with a low musical chime. He had barely a moment to consider the bare, lighted foyer before a huge hand shoved him through, and no time at all to think of a way to recover his poise or authority. The panel shut gently behind him. He blinked in the unshielded glare of lumens - they could be customised by the apartment’s inhabitants, who had clearly chosen not to.
The air was surprisingly clean and brought with it incongruous smells. Machine oil, the acidic tang of superhuman sweat, and - strangest of all - the pleasant earthiness of true vegetables and something very much like smoked fish.
Plush red carpeting had been torn up, exposing the bare foundation plates. They thumped with an approaching tread. Hyrloc had a moment to gulp and look up.
Before him was another giant, one in robes that looked much more comfortable than the ones the Palace had pressed on him. Samite of a tasteful whiteness, cut and tailored for precise dimensions. It was rare enough to see one of the fabled Angels of Death, the Emperor’s fabled warriors, on the battlefield. Rarer still to find them at rest or meditation, which Hyrloc knew were scarce - the peerless warriors were always on the front lines of Imperial conflicts.
Rarest of all to see one in robes of state. An experience that, for the people of Kysis, had been generational at the best of times.
That time had come again.
Hyrloc bowed low, from the waist, his hands making the sign of the aquila. “I apologise for my lateness, revered lord,” he said, “I have made all haste from-”
“The void,” the giant cut him off, waving one great hand with an elegant Kysian gesture: ‘all will be well’. “We were invited to the Palace earlier, but deigned to wait for House Lombard’s master.” A smile cracked that stony visage, ice-blue eyes twinkling with merriment. “Tradition is important, but food comes first - as your mother would say, Hyrloc Lombard. Enter and be well met.”
Hyrloc returned the smile. “My thanks, Lord Peyari.”
The repast was a simple thing in comparison to the lavish banquets House Lombard constructed to win mercantile contracts and safe passage. Served on meek china plates with lettering in High Gothic around the rim, accompanied by somewhat enlarged garnet-studded chalices - good colour, though - Hyrloc expected a similarly simple taste. He was, as in many recent matters, surprised.
His fish was exotically fragrant, revealing none of the dehydration or salting that most mass-marketed commercial products revealed once produced from a voidship’s hull. Soft, warm flesh teased his palate, and tasted strongly of salt and - more faintly - wood. As fulsome and honest a catch as one would find on Kysis’ own coastal villages, with a side of mouth-watering nori sheets for taste. With some mild difficulty (and the procurement of a short wooden stake), Hyrloc managed to pin the sheet and fish together and found the wrap more than agreeable.
They spoke little: he, seated at a plain wooden table, and Peyari behind the stone countertop, for there was no furniture that would suit the giant’s frame. Hyrloc had never heard of the Adeptus Astartes being at all interested in the culinary arts, but unless the Space Marine had hidden a third-koa chef somewhere in the apartment, the conclusion seemed obvious.
“My thanks,” he said at last, washing down the hearty meal with a fine vintage of wine - one he recognised as being from Kysis’ own vineyards, and far older than he was. “Your ah, skills do you credit, lord.”
“Thank the Emperor for giving me an immunity to poison,” the giant replied, “Or you would be meeting with another, less foolish member of the Chapter.”
That was a toast worth raising a cup to, and so they did. It gave Hyrloc time to observe his dinner companion in closer detail. His sole companion, despite the presence of others outside the apartment, and the internal restructuring. The Space Marines had not been present long on Kysis, but their arrival had been a quiet thing - so quiet even their designated envoy had caught no word of it for an unseemly amount of time.
Where were the others? There would be an honour guard, at least - his mother had told him many times of the glossy armour and mantles of the Space Marines as they presented themselves to the Malebranche. Well, no matter. They would appear when they decided to - no human could force their own perceptions upon the Emperor’s Angels.
Peyari was much as his mother had described: hard of countenance as one of the seaworn coastal cliffs. Scars mixed with crooked cracks of mirth, displaying a life hard-lived, but lived well.
The Space Marine moved with an easy grace, his great fingers set upon the drinking goblet just so in the manner of high Kysian society. He had manipulated the hook-knife and dining force with familiarity and ease despite their smaller dimensions, and given every appearance of enjoyment of the meal. No doubt it had come from the Chapter’s homeworld - perhaps even in stasis caskets. Hyrloc’s mother had always spoken at length about the importance the guests paid to the preparation and consumption of victuals. It ran counter to all other tales.
All that marred the vision of the perfect warrior-scholar was the slight limp. It took an experienced eye to see the shifting of weight, the careful placement of stride, but Hyrloc was a voidship veteran where breaks and sprains were common. He knew what to look for. A recent injury, then, and one no doubt earned in battle.
Which spoke to the heart for the unexpected and unannounced visitation. Kysis was no stranger to Guard tithes and struggles with local xenos, close as they were to ‘free’ space, but a wounded Space Marine was a dire herald indeed.
“The limp.”
Hyrloc ducked his head in shame, cheeks flaming. “Apologies, lord, I did not mean to stare.”
“It is no matter,” another wave of the hand, the cultural ‘no-blame-attaches’ gesture. “I was careless and fought a battle I should not have. A soldier of the Archenemy broke my legs; I will mend. The Emperor protects even old fools, it seems.”
“The Archenemy, lord? I do not mean to pry into matters of the Adeptus, but - so close to us?”
A rueful nod. “Aye, Hyrloc Lombard. Close indeed. You will hear it all on the Malebranche floor, but I’ll save you the wait: we were routed from our sub-sector pickets and watch-stations. The Archenemy looked to pry us loose before they marched in force. Word has been sent to the Chapter, and we’ll rally on Kysis to organise and meet the threat.”
“You ah, may find that somewhat difficult, lord.”
“Why would that be? The Chapter has always considered Kysis to be the capital of our protective empire.” Peyari made a face and looked to the ceiling for a moment. “Not that we have an empire, or any plans to build one, of course. You never know who’s listening.”
Hyrloc refilled his goblet from the carafe. Giving bad news to the Angels of Death seemed a sure way to the seven hells. Best to enjoy the wine while he was still in the mortal plane. “The Malebranche are… in something of a revolt, my lord.”
Deathly silence greeted his pronouncement. Peyari settled his own chalice to the countertop, his entire stance shifted to one of immediate action. Chills that only the sight of spiders could produce ran up and down Hyrloc’s spine to see it - the immediate reaction to an undefined threat. An unassailable martial aspect had replaced the charming culinarian he had seen but a moment in the past. Flinty eyes scanned every exit, every shadow - great hands flexed and checked mobility.
“Go on.”
“Our planetary tithes were… found in a wrecked heretic vessel, lord. They have been interdicted. For how long, we cannot say - the time-seals were burned off - but it was plain that our material dues were subverted to anti-Imperial causes.”
“A mistake, surely. The Warp does strange things to voidships.”
“With all respect, lord - it was my Jurisprudence that hunted down the vessel and found the tithes. Hence my return to Kysis, and putting the matter before the Malebranche. There was no mistake.”
“And this revolt? What form does it take?”
“A, ah, temporary severance of material contribution to the Imperium, lord. Kysis must defend itself with what it produces. We cannot rely on the Imperium-” Hyrloc paused, waiting for the explosion of anger, but the Space Marine merely nodded as if this was no shock “-and must see to our own pickets, fortifications of the outlying planets, consolidation of merchant fleets and so on.”
“A reasonable solution. The Administratum may not see it as such, though I confess the Chapter will welcome it. We were loathe to call upon our ancient treaties if Kysis could not easily provide.”
The treaties. Remembering them brought back the sliver of a smile to Hyrloc’s face. “They still argue the wording in the Harlequinade, lord. You can’t pass the Academy without writing a treatise on why they’re outmoded and illogical.”
“So your mother said. How is Lady Lombard? I would like to call upon her, if possible, now she has retired from public life.”
Now, this was a delicate subject. Hyrloc had heard nothing on how the Adeptus Astartes responded to indiscretions and intrigue. Poorly, he had imagined, but now - given how warmly the Lombard matriarch had spoken of her long acquaintance with Lord Peyari, and his own brief assessment - he began to wonder if, perhaps, the noble Space Marine cared more for humanity than others of his like might admit.
“I am afraid my mother has passed, lord, though I would tell you the tale if you have a moment.”
That sweeping hand gesture again. “Until tomorrow, when we speak to the Malebranche, we are at leisure. I have always thought the best dessert is a good story: tell on, Hyrloc Lombard. I would hear of her fate.”
He took a deep breath, contemplating how to proceed, and decided - all of it. No less would suffice.
“She was slain on the Malebranche floor, my lord, in a duel with her, ah, romantic rival.”
A raised eyebrow. Hyrloc hurried on.
“A handmaiden of Factor Oblise was, at the time, a paramour of Lady Lombard. I am sorry that I do not recall her well: I was finishing my final years in the Academy and had little contact with the family beyond my duties. The handmaiden was required for some task or another - I never found out what - and a footman was sent to retrieve her. They searched and searched, becoming more desperate - and more furious - until the trail ended at Lady Lombard’s adjunct suite.
So! Believing that the handmaiden was taking advantage of the Lady’s noted ah, hospitality, they burst in, stunners drawn.
Whereupon they found that Lady Lombard was being quite hospitable indeed, and the whole plot unravelled - the two had been involved for some time, unknown to Factor Oblise, the handmaiden’s benefactor.
Now, of course, this intrusion provoked a violent reaction from dear mother - she was never one to take interruption well, Emperor knows, I remember the time she cut a finger off a Rogue Trader who dared to cut in line at a palatial soiree - so she stormed, half-dressed, across the Palace grounds to confront Factor Oblise’s terrible rudeness.
As she came to the Factor’s own door, she heard a terrible calamity within. All thought of revenge forgotten, believing there was an attempt on the life of a rival - a rival she had claimed, remember! - she kicked in the doors with not a weapon on her, ready to fight to the death!
Alas, what she found was far worse. Vigorously displaying his own hospitality was Factor Oblise, in flagrante delicato with Lady Lombard’s own body-servant, Felip! Throne on Terra, there was never such a roar - it broke windows, I heard. Of course, this insult could not stand. For either of them. They sought immediate address.
And neither seemed to think it worth time to dress, so they stalked to the Malebranche hall at an ungodly hour in the morning - well in the nude - and demanded the bells rung for a proper quorum. As sleep had been interrupted across the estates, soon they got exactly that - a full sitting of the Malebranche, with the visitor’s box full! They were selling candied treats at the Palace doors!
Impassioned, both made their pleas for censure of the other and, when they were met with nothing but laughter, demanded then that all attended would be their witnesses for a duel of honour.
I am sorry to say that the guards of the hall surrendered their pistols. My mother and the Factor took ten paces, turned, and shot each-other stone dead, naked, in the very halls of governance.”
Hyrloc paused to wipe a single tear from the corner of his eye. Of mirth, not sadness - it had been precisely how his firebrand mother would have wanted to be remembered. Indeed, there was a whole stained glass window of the duel in the Great Chapel of the Palace, commissioned near-immediately by Cardinal Senna when she had gotten over her giggling.
It had not been all fun and games, however. The leadership of the House had fallen first on an uncle, and then - upon Hyrloc’s maturity - his own shoulders. He had wished many times over the years for his mother’s counsel. In his heart, though, he always knew what her words would be, and had tried his best to live true to them.
He had no regrets. Not one. Not yet.
Peyari had burst out in a great gale of laughter at the conclusion of the story, holding a hand to his heart. The emotions of the transhuman were mirrors of humanity but enlarged tenfold - the joys, the melancholy, the loyalty, the pain.
“Aye,” said the giant, chuckling still, “It would be what she wanted. And you’ve done well in her place, Hyrloc Lombard. Don’t think I haven’t kept an eye and an interest on Kysis, though we may only gather aspirants on occasion. I am pleased to have met you.”
One arm shot out across the countertop: a proferred warrior’s grip. Hyrloc had to stand, somewhat wobbly (that wine! Emperor, what a kick!) to clasp it, and felt somewhat of a child doing so.
Still. It was a good feeling. Food, wine, a pleasant meeting - yes. A good feeling indeed.
All that darkened it was the Archenemy’s shadow. A future argument with the Malebranche. And no guarantee that these defenders of humanity would find what they had come for. And truly, would it be worse if they did stand with Kysis on this matter? There were punishments for Adeptus Astartes that strayed from their sacred mission. Hyrloc would not want them to be caught up in-
He stopped himself. Caught up in? They were Space Marines. In war and politics, they were unmatched.
No. The real threat was getting swept away in their schemes.
But, he thought with a smile, Would that really be so bad?
“We’re well met, Lord Peyari.”
“Well met indeed, Hyrloc Lombard.”