Ok, I thought it might be a laugh to post this. This is what my mate got when he asked for a brief background for my warband for inquisitor. I don't do things by halves
. I really like the background for Rogue Traders rather than Inquisitors, so I wanted to field a Trader warband, but with a strong story behind them. In fact the
GM liked the story so much that he tailored the campaign around the quest of my characters.
Because it's written as a background it's not my standard style of work so it may read a bit funny. I just hope you find it a laugh to read (incidently the campaign never got off the ground so I never found out if the characters succeeded in their quest).
Inquisitor back History Maximillian and L’Ariel Ducard and Aben Volk. Maxillian and L’Ariel Ducard were the only children of the Ducard rogue trader dynasty. While not the largest Trader House they managed to survive the many pitfalls and dangers that have befallen other dynasties, such as the House of Gerrit. They achieved this by sticking rigidly to plying the trade routes deep within the Imperium, where profits may not be as high as they could be out on the rim, but the risks were certainly lessened. Being a modest Trader family meant that overheads and costs were significantly less then those of the largest Houses, affording them relative luxury with the comfortable profits made in the interior of the empire of man.
The House of Ducard commanded a small fleet of ships consisting of two large cruisers, three smaller ‘frigate’ class ships and a half dozen utility vessels which were primarily there to service the other ships and perform the grittier duties of the fleet. The House made its profits from the trading of standard commodities, bulk transport, military assistance (even the weakest of the Trader Houses was able to field an army of no small worth), mining and a small margin of their profits was gained from trading exotic goods. The later form of trading was more an indulgence of the family then for real financial gain. Working so far inside the Imperium’s bosom meant that there were much tighter controls in force in terms of how “exotic” an item could be in order to be legally traded. Owing to the high status of a Trader House there was some leniency, but the risk of bringing the wrath of the Imperium’s many enforcers of the law down upon them was still a very real possibility.
Had they been one of the lesser Trader dynasties the resources behind the family and the luxury in which the ruling family lived would still have been great. Being relatively high above this position the Ducard family lived a life of opulence, where any need or whim of the Lord and his house could be met and it was into this more then comfortable life that Maximillian and L’Ariel were born.
Maximillian was born to Heinrich Ducard, the then ruler of the family, and his first wife. Sadly, Maximillian was never to know his mother. Scant hours after his birth an accident within the medicae facility on board the family’s main ship resulted in a quantity of caustic gas being released into the room in which the new born Maximillian and his mother were resting. Both his mother and the nurse attendant died as their lungs were burnt and scarred beyond the ability to breath. However, by a stroke of luck Maximillian survived. Owing to a premature birth Maximillian had been placed on an oxygen line, with a breathing mask secured over his face. Whilst this did not protect him completely, it saved his frail lungs from the worst effects of the gas until medicae staff had time to vent the room and rescue him. What damage was done marked him for the rest of his life. His hair was permanently bleached white and the blood vessels in his eyes were agitated to a state where they became permanently bloodshot. Whilst these physical characteristics make him a distinctive figure, they did little to retract from his overall appearance as he grew to manhood. Indeed he was often described as very attractive and highly desirable by many women aboard the ships of the family and on worlds he visited. But his eyes tended to take some getting used to by many of his lovers. As one such hive spire socialite stated “making love to Maximillian was akin to making love to a wild beast”. Whether she was speaking of the effect his eyes had on the proceedings or his actual energy during performance is up for debate.
Maximillian grew to become a tall and strong man, sculpted in the image of his father who had groomed and doted upon him since birth. Hardly surprising considering the narrow fortune which had allowed his son to live through the event which claimed the life of his wife.
Under his father’s close tutelage and the education that came with privilege, Maximillian became the perfect heir to the family throne. Heinrich imparted on his son a strong morale code and that only by treating his family, crew and associates with respect and fairness was he ever to achieve his rightful place within the House.
But Maximillian was not only schooled in the arts of trading and ruling, his father also saw fit to have his son trained in the arts of combat and military doctrine. This was not only to enable his future successor to competently command the military might of the House, but to also defend himself as more often then not the threat of violence when conducting trade was ever present. Many a barter between differing Trader Houses or independent merchants escalated to the point when rather more hostile methods of negotiation were required. Even the risk of pirates or xenos was not completely minimal in the territory they traversed.
Out of all the aspects of aggressive training Maximillian was schooled in one on one combat was by far his favourite. This was of much delight to his father, as after the terrible accident that marred his birth it was a common rumour that Maximillian would grow to become a whelp, too badly affected by the corrosive gas. Instead he grew to a fine figure and trained hard to develop a strong and athletic physique. He trained as often as he could with his father in the art of close combat and the day he handled a blade for the first time all who saw him swore that he had the look of a natural swordsman. In fact sword play of all types came easily to Maximillian and within a comparatively short space of time he had progressed beyond his father’s ability to teach him. Professional blade masters were brought in by the family to train Maximillian in various forms of sword play. On his twenty first birthday, the traditional age of entering adulthood in the Ducard Household, his father presented Maximillian with a perfectly crafted power sword. Its blade alone was half the height of a man and the handle was protected by a gold plated guard with skull motif and capped off with a solid pommel, again in the fashion of a skull. The first span of the blade had been crafted into the visage of a snarling monster from legend, its purpose to keep away harmful spirits in the manner of a gargoyle, such were the superstitions of the House.
L’Ariel Ducard was born eight years after her brother to Heinrich Ducard and his second wife. Fortunately for all concerned L’Ariel’s birth was not marred by any such unfortunate events for which her brother was forever marked by. What was unfortunate was that L’Ariel was never as close to their father as Maximillian was. Instead she looked up to her own brother as a father figure, for not only had Maximillian defied initial expectation and grown to become a strong man, he had also avoided the peril of becoming spoilt and arrogant, a potential risk of parental dotage.
As she grew older it became clear that L’Ariel was blossoming into a woman of great beauty. From the perfect curves of her body to the glowing complexion of her skin, L’Ariel was soon to become for men what her brother was to women. It was speculated that so great was her beauty that there must have been some blood of the Eldar flowing through the veins of her mother’s family. Her beauty could possibly have made L’Ariel an arrogant and vein young woman, particularly given the opulence of her lifestyle and the adoration of many male admirers. It is testament to her parents that they managed to instil in their daughter enough self respect and consideration for others that she avoided this fate of personality. She was very confident in her appearance and later that confidence spread to everything she did. No movement was made nor word spoken by L’Arial that did not give the impression of a strong young woman, sure of her own abilities.
This aura of self confidence only added further to her desirability. On one notable occasion when she was twenty years of age the Planetary Governor of the industrial world of Abraxis offered the entire profit of one day’s planetary income for several hours with L’Ariel in his bed chamber. As much a compliment as it was, it did not stop Maximillian from breaking the Governor’s jaw bone with a single blow and getting his sword clean from its scabbard before Heinrich and several House attendees could restrain him. As this demonstrated Maximillian was and always has been overly protective of his sister. This stems not just from a close bond as brother and sister, but also from a more fatherly attitude toward L’Ariel, which was cultivated within Maximillian by her view of him as a more suitable paternal figure then their father.
This would seem to indicate that L’Ariel was mostly overlooked by her father, but this was not true. Heinrich loved and adored both his children, but he did spend more of his time with his son.
This lessened slightly when L’Ariel turned sixteen. At this age any women of the House had the choice to decide whether they wanted to take part in the martial aspects of education in which the men of the family were trained as standard. This was due to the traditional patriarchal view of the Ducard Dynasty, which meant only men could rule the House and therefore needed the skill at arms to back their position up. The women could still become great fighters and command a ship of the House fleet if they so choose, but they could never rule the House. Therefore it was seen purely as a choice whether or not women took part in combat training and military education. Whilst her mother preferred the pampered life of a high class socialite, L’Ariel choose to participate in combat education in order to share in her brother’s keen interest and also in an attempt to become closer to their father.
While L’Ariel was never going to become as physically strong as her brother, over time she developed a speed and grace over Maximillian which her lighter frame allowed. She honed her agility to a level where she was able to land far more blows on a sparring partner then she would receive and in some cases remained completely untouched. Developing her speed meant that she sacrificed much in the way of strength and she predominately had difficulty in downing an opponent in hand to hand fighting. Once she picked up a sword however, things became a little different. Whilst lacking the strength to effectively wield a broadsword such as the one gifted to Maximllian, lighter blades such as the rapier were deadly in her hands. Her father recognised L’Ariel’s talent in speed and swift strikes and secured the services of a master fencer, as his own method of sword play was more akin to the heavier weapons he taught to his son. Under the guidance of the new teacher L’Ariel learned that with the right tools, agility more often than not triumphed over sheer strength. Maximillian could wield a broadsword with impressive speed and his average stroke was strong enough to cleave a man in half which, whilst certainly doing the job, was ultimately detrimental to his stamina and therefore his longevity in combat. L’Ariel was taught that it takes only a pound of pressure to pierce human flesh and with a rapier she was schooled in the art of making a flurry of quick, piercing and deadly strikes against her opponent before disengaging. This made her an effective combatant and allowed her to retain much more energy then her brother.
Had L’Ariel schooled as hard as her brother with a sword, she could have easily been considered one of the finest blades in the Imperium. As it transpired she began to loose interest in sword play shortly after her eighteenth birthday.
As with many of the old noble Houses, House Ducard was one of unique family traditions, many of which related to age. Upon turning eighteen it was seen fit for the members of the ruling House to be allowed to train in the use of firearms.
Maximillian had not been too taken with the use of guns, preferring to further hone his skills with a sword. He found much more enjoyment and satisfaction in what he saw as ‘honourable’ combat. Because of this Maximillian never became more then what could be called an adequate shot and so when guns were required he choose to use a shotgun for close range encounters, which meant that aiming rarely became an issue. As with many of his family however, he also carried a pistol when the need dictated, as a holstered side arm gave off a slightly less hostile impression then a tall man with bloodshot eyes carrying a really big shotgun.
L’Ariel on the other hand fell in love with guns, or to be precise, pistols. She found a love in wielding the differing classes of pistol weapons, from the basic slug throwers of the Imperium to the more exotic and refined guns of specialist makers and xenos, something the status of Rogue Trader allowed her family to procure. Her training with the rapier all but halted as L’Ariel focused hard on using her speed and dexterity to become an expert shot. Mixing her close range evasive skills taught through close combat she was able to make use of her pistols at extreme close quarters, developing a hybrid of gunplay and hand to hand combat. She also excelled at medium range, once proudly shooting the cigar from her father’s mouth from forty yards. Her dexterity allowed her to be able to shoot accurately whilst on the run, something most found hard and her brother found impossible.
At L’Ariel’s twenty first birthday it was her mother who presented her with a weapon to mark the occasion. It was an exquisitely crafted shurikan pistol, a weapon usually exclusive to the Eldar xenos race. How the Ducard family had come into possession of such a weapon was a mystery. Even the rare few of the Eldar who had contact with humans would never normally trade their technology with other races, least of all their weapons. Not that under normal circumstances Eldar weapons were of any use to other races, as they were crafted from wraithbone, which required at least the psychic signature of an Eldar to work. Yet when L’Ariel picked up the gun for the first time she felt a slight warmth to the grip, as if it had until recently been held by another. When she reached the target range of the combat arena on board the main ship of the fleet, she found that the gun fired perfectly and suffered from no recoil, although it did have a shorter effective range then standard side arms.
For many years the children of Heinrich Ducard lived in happiness aboard the main vessel of the Ducard fleet, The Wanderer, but it was not their destiny that this should last.
The Ducard House did not just consist of Heinrich Ducard, his wife and two children. Heinrich had a brother, Wolfgang, who was the younger by three years. As is the fated place of all younger siblings of an older brother in the Ducard Dynasty, he was unable to inherit the ruling throne of the House, forever living under the rule of his brother. In actuality this made little real difference in power, as the enterprise of the House was such that it would have been extremely difficult for one man alone to rule the business, therefore Heinrich and Wolfgang ruled in an almost joint manner. But for some men the sharing of power is not enough and all they seek is total control. Wolfgang was just such a man.
For countless years he had become tired of his brother’s way of running the business, for as much as the operation of the House was a joint effort, Heinrich had the final say over what business they dealt in. Wolfgang longed for the excitement and potentially vast profits to be made out on the rim, where more exotic goods could be easily traded and the enforcement of law was lax. There was many a time that the brothers would raise their voices against each other as Wolfgang argued the value of his wishes to change the House business, however Heinrich would not consider it. For generations the Ducard Dynasty had made it’s livelihood in the areas previously specified, avoiding the pitfalls of riskier trade whilst at the same time sacrificing the larger potential profit. Wolfgang had long since grown tired of the trivial business that the House currently dealt in. His interest was in the outer rim of the Imperium where strange and valuable artefacts and weapons of exotic, and more than likely illegal, design could be traded. He was also a rather militant man and would have preferred more in the way of military action as part of the House’s way of life. In the core systems this particular business was rare as there were more then enough armed forces to take care of any trouble. But out on the rim, the law was a fragile thing and the need for a strong military force was common amongst many worlds, their own planetary defence forces nothing but a token police presence.
Wolfgang harboured dreams of making a vast fortune through the trading of weapons and selling the House’s muscle to the highest bidder. However, as long as Heinrich was still the head of the family that was never going to happen and so it was that Wolfgang took measures to bring about his brother’s downfall.
Over the course of several years Wolfgang moved as many of his trusted attendants as he could into key positions of responsibility within the House. He wanted to ensure that when the time came for him to seize control he would be supported. Heinrich was more than aware of the malcontent that brewed within his brother, but he never would have believed that Wolfgang would move to depose him.
The culmination of more then twenty years planning came one night when Heinrich and his family were gathered in the dinning hall of their private chambers aboard the Wanderer.
Heinrich was not in good temper that night, having had a business transaction soured earlier in the day by Wolfgang. Well aware that Wolfgang had different views of where the family should take its business, Heinrich was not unused to him sulking during trade meetings or acting sullen and becoming aggressive in negotiations. Usually this could be used as an advantage, with Wolfgang grossly over quoting a client on a job, before Heinrich would take control and offer what would seem a far better deal.
However, earlier today Wolfgang had blatantly overstepped his authority by becoming enraged in a meeting with a merchant guild over prices for cargo haulage. He lost total control of his temper as a result of the guild’s fanatical haggling and declared that the House would not take the contract and tore up the agreement in front of the merchant delegates. Despite the obvious dissatisfaction that Heinrich felt he could not show that there was any discord within the House and so had to go along with the decision that Wolfgang had forced upon them. On their return to the Wanderer the two brothers had an extremely vicious argument in which a lot of bad things were said and in Wolfgang’s case, meant. It ended with Heinrich striking his brother and sending him back to the Pilgrim, the second capital ship in the House fleet which was usually left under control Wolfgang. He was also barred from family negotiations until Heinrich saw fit to include him again. It was this action that finally caused Wolfgang to act.
Sat around the intimate dinner table that evening Heinrich received a message from one of his most trusted crew, his first mate Ismail. It was a garbled vox transmission which was heavily cut with static. This alone caused alarm bells to ring in Heinrich’s head as the internal vox system should never suffer from interference. As Heinrich tried to make out what Ismail was saying, the man himself burst through the chamber doors. He was in a state of panic and blood streaked his face. Heinrich grabbed the man by the shoulders and tried desperately to make sense of his ramblings, but Ismail was in a total delirium and as Heinrich studied the man closely he realised that this was probably from loss of blood. Ismail bore dozens of cuts across his torso and a large swollen bruise on his right temple. He finally seemed to compose himself and informed Heinrich that there was mutiny aboard the ship and that the family must flee.
In total shock and bemusement at what they were hearing the family were slow to react, but at the sound of gunfire in the outer chambers Heinrich and Maximillian sprang into action. Without pausing to grab any belongings Heinrich and his family were led by Ismail to the emergency exits in their personal chambers and from there he led them into the service corridors of the ship, areas never usually used by anyone other then utility servitors and engineering crew. As they walked Ismail explained more of what had gone on.
It transpired that Wolfgang had transferred across from the Pilgrim with a contingent of his most loyal crew some hours previously. He had then proceeded to link up with those he had manoeuvred into power aboard the Wanderer and initiated an open coup against Heinrich. Those he placed in prominent positions over the years led others who had been persuaded with bribes and promises of fortune and slowly began to take over key sections of the ship. At first it was not thought of as anything more then a small scale mutiny. On capital ships as large as the Wanderer it was not uncommon for minor attempts at mutiny by the ratings and lower level crew, usually men who were pressed into service against their will. In these situations the overseers would think nothing of executing as many traitors as was necessary to restore order, since there were always more ratings where they came from. As First Mate it was Ismail who was first informed that this was no ordinary riot and faster then he could react to it the treachery passed the point of possible reversal and the ship was almost certainly lost to the hands of Wolfgang. Ismail and his ancestors had been sworn servants of the Ducard House for many generations, the position of First Mate practically his family’s birthright, and he was not prepared to let Heinrich and his immediate family be killed. While many of the loyal crew defended as much of the ship as they could, Ismail and a handful of men prepared an escape plan for Heinrich.
Upon leaving the service corridors the family saw that they had been led to a section of the ship near the hull where a few of the ships escape pods were harboured. It was not possible to use a shuttle to escape since Wolfgang had seized the launch bays of the Wanderer as a matter of priority upon initiating his betrayal. One pod had been prepared for the family and three large crewmen stood guard armed with riot guns, prepared to defend the family’s escape to the death. Unfortunately this was proved before Ismail could secure Heinrich and his family.
Just as Heinrich had finished embracing Ismail in gratitude for his service, several shots rang out and one of the three crew on guard fell as several bullets punctured his chest. The remaining crew turned and began to return fire on the gang of traitors that were charging down the corridor. Ismail and Lady Ducard were hit in the initial volley of fire and while Ismail took a round to the back of his head and died instantly, Lady Ducard was hit in the chest and fell to the floor with a faint breath escaping her lips. Despite their efforts to retrieve her, the two loyal crew managed to push Heinrich, Maximillian and L’Ariel towards the pod, but not before a hulking monster of a rating opened fire with a heavy stubber stolen from one of the ships many weapons lockers. The loyal crewmen were shot several times and Heinrich himself was caught twice in his side. With his last breath Heinrich sealed the pod from the outside, sealing his children inside and hit the ejection switch. As the pod detached and blasted away from the ship at speed, Heinrich got a final split second look at his children’s horrified faces through the porthole. With his last breath Heinrich made a prayer to the Emperor to protect his children and somehow see them reclaim the rule of the Ducard House. Any other last words were silenced as the mob of attackers reached his body and brutally bludgeoned any remaining life out of him.
It was fortunate that The Ducard fleet had not yet left the orbit of the planet Bynaar, where the day’s earlier negotiations with the Merchant Guild had taken place, as this gave the escape pod somewhere to land. As much as the purpose of escape pods was to evacuate a ship, launching one in deep space would ultimately be a death sentence if no other ship was in the area to assist. Alone and adrift the void each pod carried only enough supplies to allow for four to five days survival.
With limited controls it was almost impossible for the Maximillian and his sister to guide to pod to a preferred landing site. Instead the pods own automated senses steered it towards a small township almost directly below the orbiting path of the Wanderer, before altering its trajectory to come down two miles outside the radius of the furthest building from the centre of the settlement. The purpose of this last minute course change was to minimise the risk of crashing into a built up area and killing the passengers.
In truth it would have been extremely hard for the pod to have hit any town or city of reasonable size on Bynaar. It was predominately an agri-world, with whole continents given over to the cultivation of crops and the farming of livestock. Most of the world’s major geography had been altered specifically for the purposes of agriculture in the way that only the Imperium could. Mountains had been levelled flat and entire seas had been drained in order to maximise farmable land. An artificial sea, which ran like a canyon one hundred kilometres wide, circumnavigated the planet at its equator, with tributaries running off at various intervals to provide effective irrigation to the entire globe. Even the weather was artificially managed by machines of a design now forgotten to the Adeptus Mechanicus. It is a sad fact that during colonisation, every form of native plant and animal was exterminated from Bynaar in order that it should provide tithe to the Empire of man.
Bynaar also had little in terms of civilisation. It had one spire which served as home to the planet’s government, army, space port and ninety percent of its population. Other then that there was only the odd township scattered at random intervals across the planets surface. These small settlements were to house the engineers and mechanics who maintained the automated machines and servitors which laboured night and day doing the actual farming. The average settlement only consisted of around fifty to a hundred people and of them there would be only four or five who would have any skill in agriculture. All the towns followed a similar pattern, accommodation for workers, a bar, local law office which also served as the location of the town’s administrative officer, a general store and a supply depot. There was some minor variety between one town and the next, for example one town may have had a local school, where as another would have a brothel. Each settlement was, on average, several hundred kilometres from the next and ran themselves almost like an independent state, each responsible for their own segment of the planet and its produce.
The escape pod landed and, after what seemed like an eternity of nauseating bouncing, came to rest a short distance outside settlement
CB-12, but which its inhabitants had named Belmont.
Upon recovering from their landing Maximillian set to the task of taking stock of what supplies the pod carried and also at what items Ismail had managed to save from the ship. L’Ariel was beside herself with grief however, and was barely able to speak coherently through her tears and screams of anguish at the murder of their parents. Upon seeing her brother begin to rummage amongst the cargo compartments of the pod with not so much as a tear in his eye she chastised him for being so cold and even struck him for not grieving with her. Maximillian took the blow and paused in order to compose himself before addressing his sister. He explained to her that he shared her grief, even for her mother who was not his own, for since their father had met her she had been nothing but kind to Maximillian. However, he also knew that time was not on their side, for if Wolfgang was truly determined to wipe out the rightful ruling family of the House, then it was probably likely that already there would be shuttles heading down from the Wanderer to finish the job. They had to get away from the pod and try to find somewhere to hide. In truth Maximillian had no cause for immediate concern as he and his sister were far from Wolfgang’s mind, as he was too elated that after years of planning his dreams of ruling the Ducard Dynasty had come true. What was it to him that they had escaped to Bynaar? It had one space port on the other side of the world and it was not as if they would be able to re-take the fleet by themselves and neither did they any longer posses the resources to get others to assist them. Shortly Wolfgang would take the fleet out of the Bynaar system and to the rim, where the brats would never find them.
While L’Ariel took a moment on her own outside the pod to compose herself Maximillian finished going through what was on board. Besides the standard emergency supplies in the pod there were two large cases which Ismail had managed to secure prior to the ship being lost. The first case seemed to have been packed with Heinrich and Lady Ducard in mind. It contained changes of clothes for both, Heinrich’s sidearm and other minor equipment such as vox units and medi-paks. There was also a sealed zip bag which contained both credit chips and notes. Ismail would have had no access to any money but his own and again Maximillian’s heart swelled with gratitude that Ismail gave all that he had to help the family.
Of more importance however, was the item Maximillian discovered buried beneath one of Lady Ducard’s. It was the Index. It contained a list of all House family members and made particular note of which of those were rightfully next in line to rule. While not as legally binding as the actual Rogue Trader charter itself, this book could be used to prove that Wolfgang should not be the ruler of the house as long as Maximillian was alive. Each entry in the book was coded with the genetic material of the respective family member, meaning that if the opportunity arose Maximillian and his sister could prove their identities and birthright. The Index would not automatically gain Maximillian the aid of any Imperial legal assistance, but provided he and his sister were able to re-take the House it would further cement his claim as the head of the House and see justice and revenge settled in one stroke.
Of course they had to be able to re-take the Dynasty first.
Maximillian tried to put thoughts of revenge and retribution to the back of his mind and return to the task at hand. Upon opening the second box Maximillian’s face changed from a smile of imagined vengeance into a smile of genuine joy, despite the pain in his soul. For there in the case was his cherished broad sword. He lifted it out and fastened the scabbard round his waist, a reassuring strength filling him as he felt any sense of defencelessness leave his mind. As well as his sword he found his sister’s smaller rapier and both her shurikan pistol and a standard sidearm. The only other weapon was a shotgun which Maximillian took for himself. There were some clothes for both of them too, however it appeared that the rush in which these items were gathered from their chambers meant that close inspection was not paid to what was being taken. Nothing that was packed for L’Ariel was suitable, being all evening and function dresses and for Maximillian only a long coat and trousers would be of any use.
Taking the weapons, money and what items the pair felt of any use, Maximillian and L’Ariel began to make their way to towards Belmont, both of them wondering how they would take back their home and imagining their own personal justice upon their treacherous uncle.
Fortunately they were not to be unaided for long….
At that moment, in Belmont’s only drinking establishment and unofficial whorehouse, a man by the name of Aben Volk sat nursing the last of his money which had been transformed into a half bottle of local moonshine through the wonders of commerce. He wore dusty, faded clothes which appeared to be cobbled together from a wide variety of sources, including plate armour in places. It gave him the appearance of a Ratskin native who had come out from the Underhive into the light of day. The only thing about him which appeared to be well kept were a pair of odd pistols in holsters on his thighs. One was a fairly standard, but well maintained, clip fed semi-automatic pistol. The other was more ornate and was in the fashion of the old revolver design with a central cylinder cartridge which only held six bullets. As it happened Aben had long ago had this weapon custom made for himself and the maker had built the cartridge to hold seven shots, instead of the usual six. This gun also appeared to be well looked after and the guns stood out like stars against the night sky when compared to the rest of Aben’s appearance.
By the fact he possessed two well maintained weapons it may have been assumed that Aben was some sort of gangster or a local enforcer. But in a place like Belmont on the other side of the planet to the only Spire, there was no law enforcement and the PDF only conducted patrols through the town once every month, although these could be considered little more then whistle stop visits. In Belmont the application of law was up to those that resided there and not everyone was what might be considered a pillar of the community. In truth Aben desired little from the universe at large, least of all to work for the law. He had seen his fair share of service to the Imperium.
At the age of fifteen Aben had joined the Imperial Guard by enlisting in his home planet’s regiment, the Nordan Mechanised Grenadiers. A world of heavy industry the regiments of guard from Nordan were able to field many armoured fist squads, each squad of men paired with their own Chimera transport tank. He was lucky enough to spend his first three years in service to the regiment in standard peace keeping duties within his home system, never once firing his lasgun outside of the target range. Eventually his company was dispatched to many a war zone and Aben quickly distinguished himself as a soldier of promise, not least for surviving the initial fifteen hours of his first battle, something of a depressing benchmark in the ranks of the Guard. Over the years he climbed the ranks and by the time he was thirty four he became promoted to the rank of Captain.
However fate was to take a turn for the worse for Aben and his men and ensured that there would be little in the way of glory in their future. After serving only a couple of years as Captain, Aben received orders that he and his men were to be sent back to his home system of Nordan, along with many other companies of Imperial Guard as well as several detachments from the Salamanders Space Marine chapter. At that information alone Aben had begun to fear the worst. Space Marines were only deployed in the direst circumstances when the enemy faced was formidable and any enemy which would be strong enough to warrant Astrates intervention would probably mean high casualty rates amongst the Imperial Guard. It was not until the fleet carrying the Nordan regiments rendezvoused with the rest of the Imperial forces that the nature of the foe was known. A Tyranid splinter fleet, codenamed Hive Fleet Nocturne, had begun to attack the Imperium from below the galactic plane and had moved into the Nordan system.
Over the course of the next several months the Imperial forces attempted to drive the Tyranids off each world they infested with little success. Normal tactics dictated that sacrificial losses had to be made in order to buy time for the Imperial forces to gather their strength and swamp the Tyranids with sheer weight of force, not something easily done considering the opponent. Aben and his forces were some of the more fortunate guardsmen. Being an armoured fist company they were deemed as more valuable then standard foot slogging guardsmen and where possible their forces were withdrawn if the battle was deemed to have gone beyond the point of possible success. Having a dedicated transport for each unit meant that if the battle was deemed to have gone beyond the point of possible success they were able to retreat with speed, where as those on foot often fell behind and were left to their deaths. Aben saw many men die over the course of the campaign and every time he headed back to the evacuation point each time a battle was lost he thought of the thousands of other men left to die in order to allow the rest to flee. Often each transport tank in the army would come back to the rally point laden with more men then designated to it, as the Nordon units would pick up as many stragglers that could squeeze into or on top of the vehicle. It was hard to keep faith in the Emperor during those dark days, but the climax of the campaign tested his faith to breaking point.
The war had not gone well and by the ninth month more guard regiments had been committed to battle as well as further detachments of Astrates from the Space Wolves and Sons of Medusa chapters. The Tyranids had finally pushed through the system all the way to Nordan itself and each factory city was soon it’s own isolated island fortress against a sea of alien horrors which swarmed the planet like flies on a corpse. For two weeks Aben and his men had held the city which used to be his home along with Astrates from the Space Wolves. For a while the presence of the marines brought hope to the Guardsmen. Seeing these massive warriors ceaselessly throwing themselves into battle with a never ending vigour inspired them and made them believe that with the Astrates with them they could turn the tide. But over time even the indomitable Space Wolves began to fall, despite their superhuman abilities. Aben would never forget seeing a Space Wolf marine charging into combat with a huge xenos monster with gigantic claws, which moments before had flipped a Leman Russ tank through the air as if it were little more then a toy. The marine managed to land a single blow with his axe before being picked up and pulled apart by the alien. In his death throws the Space Wolf laughed manically and pulled the pins on his belt of krak grenades, the ensuing blast destroying the beast utterly. This type of suicidal bravery became more common from the Astrates as the siege went on and more then once he heard a Space Wolf chanting the mantra “in death we deny you your victory”.
Eventually word came that the planet was deemed lost and that where possible evacuation was ordered. However, due to the dangerous concentrations of Tyranid spores and flying creatures in the skies no further transport craft were permitted to come to the surface, therefore evacuation was only possible for those who had access to a transport craft already on the ground. Most of the Imperial forces had no off world transport as many of the support craft had been withdrawn days earlier in order that they not be rendered grounded. Only the Astrates had any real transport capability left and of them only the Space Wolves were known to have let any Guard survivors on their Thunderhawks. Aben was one such fortunate survivor and had been pulled aboard one of the Thunderhawks by a Space Wolf scout whom had fought with his unit and come to respect Aben and his men.
After the war Aben heard stories of the Salamanders and Sons of Medusa heartlessly denying access to their transports and in some cases shooting those Guardsmen who tried in vein to scramble on board a Thunderhawk, though in truth this was a mercy compared to the fates of those left to the Tyranids.
Once away from the planet a salvo of virus bombs was launched from the lead fleet ship and all life, human and xenos, was scoured from Nordan within minutes. As the hive fleet moved away from the dead world more Imperial ships arrived in system and combined with the fleet already present, they destroyed the last of the Tyranids.
After the war for the Nordan system Aben was offered an honourable discharge owing to his actions fighting the Tyranids and he took it without hesitation. It was only after leaving the army that he actually realised he had nowhere to go. His home had been destroyed and all friends and family known to him were dead. With his sole possessions being his civvies and his service pistol, which as a distinguished officer he was allowed to keep, he left the military life behind to find a little patch of land on some idyllic moon and live without violence for ever more.
Unfortunately the Imperium of man for a civilian is almost as far a cry from non violence then that of a soldier and idyllic is more often then not an illusion. Aben spent many years roaming the universe trying to find a home, earning credits were he could by utilising the skills taught to him in the army. He has been a bounty hunter, bodyguard, security aboard merchant ships and within cities as well as other less then legitimate roles where skill with a gun is appreciated.
Eighteen months before the Ducard fleet entered orbit around Bynaar, Aben came to the planet after a particularly lucrative job aboard a merchant vessel called the Atlas. He had been hired by the captain to act as hired security during the hauling of some particularly valuable cargo, so valuable that the Captain had paid him in advance plus a bonus if the cargo got to its destination unspoilt. The only restriction was that he was not permitted to look at the cargo. During his seven week stay aboard the ship he began to become increasingly suspicious of the Captain and his crew and also developed a strong dislike to the man. At the end of the voyage Aben managed to sneak a look at the cargo as the crew were busy preparing the ship to enter orbit around the planet Vega 9. It was a single crate, held in place by strong clamps, magnetic seals, its own dampening field and several strong chains. Whatever it was, it was obvious that the Captain did not want it to move an inch. Upon inspection Aben saw that although most markings on the crate had been removed by laser file, enough remained for him to realise that the crate contained a single sphere of the life eater virus, the most deadly and horrifying weapon ever created by man and which was used at the final battle against the Tyranids on Nordan.
Without hesitating, Aben left the cargo hold and crept to a comms relay station and sent a message to the Imperial base on Vega 9 warning them of the cargo.
Once the PDF had seized the ship, Aben was further rewarded with credits before embarking on a ship to nearby Bynaar, which a soldier in the Vega 9 PDF informed him was as close to a paradise as one could get in the Imperium.
Upon arriving at Bynaar Aben began to wonder what that soldier thought paradise was. Away from the spire space port was a field of corn which spanned four thousand miles in length and width. While it is true that many of the worlds of man are polluted, industrial hells, the sight of corn stalks and nothing else for as far as the eye could see was not exactly paradise.
In time Aben moved from township to township, spending his money on what pleasures could be had on the planet and it must be said that after a while he felt a form of contentment. But it was not to last. His money was running out on cheap booze and cheaper women and an agri-world like Bynaar did not allow new people to take up permanent residence unless they enrolled on the work force. It may not have been a factory world, but everything on Bynaar had to contribute to the planets production. Provided he still had credits to spend then he was contributing money to the planet and if his money ran out he would be expected to either leave or join the permanent work force, either by choice or by force.
And so it was that Aben was sat in the tavern in Belmont wondering how life would be like fixing farm equipment when Maximillian and L’Ariel walked through the door.
At first it was Maximillian who drew everyone’s attention. His white hair, blood red eyes and not least his immense broad sword caused much staring from the local patrons, but it was L’Ariel who stole all the attention when she entered behind her brother. The walk into Belmont had taken them an hour and during that time she had composed herself and managed to regain her former grace and dignity, although a close observer would have noticed that in places she had not quite managed to remove all the make up which had been smudged from tears.
Maximillian approached the barkeep and asked about their current location on the planet and how they could go about getting to the space port. While he spoke five men moved from the corner of the bar and walked towards L’Ariel, who had seated herself at a table near to her brother. Aben shook his head slightly in shame at the men who approached her. From his time in Belmont he knew them as the local trouble makers and like all idiot thugs around the universe they had no concept that due to their ugly, brutish faces and crude behaviour, they would have no chance with any woman unless coin or force was involved. Aben had only once had trouble with them shortly after he came to the town. They had tried to rough him up and steal his money, but after Aben demonstrated the training he learnt in the army they never bothered him again.
He watched them make their laughable excuses at chat up lines, most involving ludicrous claims as to the size of their manhood. The young women gave them a puzzled look, as one would give someone who had been speaking another language and did her best to dismiss them. The men did not leave her alone and two moved to stand behind her whilst the other three spread out in front of the table before her. Aben noticed that the tall, white haired man she had entered with had turned from the bar and was watching proceedings with an odd look of twisted pleasure. He also noticed that the man’s hand had moved to rest on the hilt of his sword and when he looked back to the woman he saw that she was also smiling. Aben found himself unclipping the fastener on the pistol holster on his right thigh out of reflex. When a woman like that smiles that way in the company of men like these, she either likes it rough or something bad is about to happen.
In a moment it had started. One of the oafs behind the woman had placed his hand on her shoulder and in a motion faster and more fluid then Aben thought a human could move, she had spun out of the chair and behind the man who touched her. The man himself was now on his knees grimacing and Aben noticed that the young woman had his hand in a grip, her fingers pressing into the palm and forcing the hand to twist at the wrist. Aben knew the move himself and was aware she was pressing on one of the many pressure points of the body, but it was hard to pull off, especially when she had moved so fast. He found that he had relaxed his grip on his pistol, judging that there would be little need for his assistance.
As the other men moved in on L’Ariel after Maximillian stepped forward and took up a stance near his sister. Unwisely the men still felt that they would be able to overpower the pair of them, a very unfortunate move considering both brother and sister had a lot of built up anger which was just waiting for a release.
The following events did not take long. One of the men moved on Maximillian, but only managed to pull his arm back for a punch before Maximillian shot his right fist out in a straight jab that broke the man’s nose and sent him reeling. Another of the thugs went for L’Arial, but she spun on her heel and, still retaining the grip on the other man’s hand, delivered a round house kick which knocked the man to the floor by Aben’s table. As Aben looked up he saw that the fourth man had been knocked over the bar by the white haired man (the legs sticking over the counter were a dead giveaway) and as the fifth man picked up a chair to swing at him, he drew the sword held at his waist. The huge blade was out of it’s scabbard with lightning speed and upon the upstroke of it being drawn it swung up and sliced the chair in two and only just cut a nick in the attacker’s chin. This was more then enough to stop him in his tracks, his arms still stretched up holding the remains of the chair.
Everyone else in the tavern had remained rooted to the spot, some were still holding the same breath from the moment L’Ariel swiftly moved from her seat. Hoping that none would see him, the thug who had landed on the floor by Aben began to slowly, and what he hoped secretly, draw a crude snub pistol from the inside of his tunic. Aben made a small, but attention demanding cough and the thug looked up into the barrel of Aben’s pistol which had deftly moved from holster to hand without so much as a creak from the leather holster. As Aben shook his head slowly the thug threw his own pistol to one side.
Aben looked back up at the newcomers and saw the white haired man give him a nod of appreciation which Aben returned.
Shortly afterwards Aben, Maximillian and L’Ariel met outside the tavern and introduced each other. Upon establishing the formalities Aben invited them to what was, until the next morning when his rent was due, his accommodation. Over the next few hours the trio exchanged the stories of who they were and how they had come to be here.
It was there that Aben made Maximillian and L’Ariel an offer. He would help them as much as he could in order to retake their House, provided that he would be guaranteed a place within their fleet. Maximillian said that if he were to help them he would give Aben the job as First Mate aboard the Wanderer and L’Ariel seconded her brother’s idea. When they asked why Aben wanted a place aboard their fleet and not simply just money his reply was short, honest, and simple and in one moment cemented the trust of the two siblings.
“I want a home”.
I've got another story on here somewhere called 'Machine' (shameless plug 
), although it is unfinished. That is more of a 'proper' story.