It takes some explaining and effort to get the lieutenants to agree. While as soon as Elios hears about it he's on board and the other Staine Siblings agree, Fay and Olive don't seem to be fans of idea. Castus agrees whole heartedly, and Primus, Cain, Hayes and Meliodas are indifferent and just agree, placing the majority. You quickly find the most knowledgeable about drug manufacturing of your lieutenants, Primus, Elios and Elizabeth, and gather them in the war room.

"Why is Elizabeth here?" Elios asks. "She's never touched a chem in her life."

"Do you know about Methoxetamine, Elios? About it's use on the brain?" Elizabeth asks.

"Oh, you wanted a nerd," Elios says. "Understood, darling."

"Our crew's not good enough to manufacture chems for market," you say. "We need to f ind someone better. Primus, anything showing up in your archives?"

"Pirate chatter tells me that the best... "product" coming through is from either the Hiveworld of Outice-81 or the Xenos species Jatkiri. Both sell a good product, so we could easily hire them."
> You attempt to hire the Jatkiri
You stand in the war room of the Roar of the Vortex. Monitors in front of you show you a view of the nearby Jatkiri ships, dozens of oblong ships bristling with cannons.

"Jatkiri ships," you say over the comms. "I am Captain Karth of the Roar of the Vortex. I would like to talk to the admiral of this fleet."

"Activating translators," Primus says. "Tau-Jatkiri alliances has made thee translator technology highly advanced. Of course, be careful with your words."

There's a moment of silence, before the speakers blare again with Primus' voice."

"Bigs ships... lead to big warfare," the Jatkiri voices reply. "Can't be trusted."

"We don't want you to fight. We want you to join us."

"What do you do?" the Jatkiri replies.

"Uh... excuse me?" you say.

"What... profession does your fleet have?"

"It depends," you say. "Primarily, we do fight, but..."

"No deal. We don't fight. Already had to fight Tau-Jatkiri... then Void Claw Jatkiri... then Royal Jatkiri. Too much fighting. Now, we flow free. Tongue won't work anymore. End chatter."
> You accept this and give up on your drug manufacturing plans
Uh, you've done too much work today. Fuck it, leave the Xenos be. You're not in the mood to travel across the galaxy to some shitty hiveworld to be told no again.


You stand in the war room of the Roar of the Vortex. Monitors in front of you show you a view of the nearby Jatkiri ships, dozens of oblong ships bristling with cannons.

"Jatkiri ships," you say over the comms. "I am Captain Karth of the Roar of the Vortex. I would like to talk to the admiral of this fleet."

"Activating translators," Primus says. "Tau-Jatkiri alliances has made thee translator technology highly advanced. Of course, be careful with your words."

There's a moment of silence, before the speakers blare again with Primus' voice."

"Bigs ships... lead to big warfare," the Jatkiri voices reply. "Can't be trusted."

"We don't want you to fight. We want you to join us."

"What do you do?" the Jatkiri replies.

"Uh... excuse me?" you say.

"What... profession does your fleet have?"

"It depends," you say. "Primarily, we do fight, but..."

"No deal. We don't fight. Already had to fight Tau-Jatkiri... then Void Claw Jatkiri... then Royal Jatkiri. Too much fighting. Now, we flow free. Tongue won't work anymore. End chatter."
> You accept this and attempt to hire the Outice-81 Chem Manufacturers
Fuck it, the Xenos won't work for you. Time to find some good, human workers on Outice-81.


You allow the drugs, as well as adding them to the rations, giving each resident coupons to report to their nearby medical agent for whatever precious, delightful drug fuels them. Unfortunately, the program ends up end costing you a solid five million Thrones, as well as doing some damage to your men's efficiency.

Despite that, morale increases substantially. It seems when men are off their heads, they're more than happy to risk their lives.

The success of this policy, or at least the success in that you're capable of manufacturing drugs aboard the vessel, does give you an idea. You could easily set up a chem manufacturing industry aboard the ship to increase the funds you have to work with. You'd need to find a new group of cooks as well as a supplier, but it could prove to be a profitable venture.
> You decline
You're a warship, not a traveling drug lab. Now's not the time to get distracted. You're not going to break into the drug industry.


"Next are the more recreational drugs. The first is a familiar vice: alcohol. Although the light beers and wines are too invaluable for the ship to ban, as since the crew drinks them, they’re boiling the water before they’re used in brewing these drinks, hence stopping disease from spreading due to the very unsanitary water in many parts of the ship. Still, harder liquors, like the spirits, the harder beers and the venom shit that that’s so common on the vessel are simply bad for your health and disruptive. If you were to ban these, you’d be able to increase the productivity and general levels of health on the ship. It is common on the vessel, due to how easy it is to produce, and how commonplace. Due to its radiance across the cultures of at the very least the humans on the ship, be it from the wines and rums enjoyed by the raiders and bandits, the hard liquors mercenaries pour down their throat, the wines and strange bears enjoyed by pre-industrial recruits and the simple, mass-produced moonshine and liquor that can be found on any hive world in existence."
> You allow
Your crew are willing to fight endless hordes of alien monsters for you, willing to travel through a daemon-infested realm of Chaos and madness for you, willing to toss their body into the fray even when it won’t come out from you. Still, only your most fanatical followers are willing to give up their alcohol for you. You happily leave it be.


"Ban," you say. "What else we have?"

Elizabeth fumbles through her bag once more, pulling out a small, black vial. She places it on the table.

"Reaper," she says. "It's just arriving from the Black Aces War Band."

"What's it do?" you ask.

"It gives users a huge confidence boost and immunity to pain, faster reflexes, a faster heart rate and adrenaline for a small period of time. It's very dangerous, though, only used in bad situations. It has a 10% fatality rate, but it's VERY effective in battle."

"That stuff leads to serious health issues," Fay points out.

"Very effective, though. Shockingly so," Castus says.
> You allow
"Allow it," you say.
> You continue
In changing little in regards to combat drugs, you don't have much effect on either morale or combat efficiency. Probably a safe choice.


"Ban it," you say.

"Alright then," Elizabeth says, looking down at her notes. She fumbles through her pockets, pulling out two packets. One of a white, granular powder, the other is a brown one, looking like grinded up dirt. "Here we have Zap and Dirt. Zap can be snorted, eaten or drank with alcohol to perk up energy levels and increase reaction time, while Dust is inhaled to improve your senses. These drugs DO have a few negative effects. Mood swings and some minor mental problems with the former, respiratory issues with the latter. There's not very popular, but only as it's fairly new and we haven't stopped at ports recently."

"Thoughts?" you ask.

"I don't have enough research to formulate an opinion," Elizabeth admits.

"Allow Zap! That shit's good!" Castus says, finally paying attention, before getting distraction by a smudge of... something on the table.

"Perhaps its effect on mental health are really serious. I mean, look at Castus," Olive says.
> You allow
"Allow," you say. "What else we have?"

Elizabeth fumbles through her bag once more, pulling out a small, black vial. She places it on the table.

"Reaper," she says. "It's just arriving from the Black Aces War Band."

"What's it do?" you ask.

"It gives users a huge confidence boost and immunity to pain, faster reflexes, a faster heart rate and adrenaline for a small period of time. It's very dangerous, though, only used in bad situations. It has a 10% fatality rate, but it's VERY effective in battle."

"That stuff leads to serious health issues," Fay points out.

"Very effective, though. Shockingly so," Castus says.


"What's first, then?" you ask.

Elizabeth grabs a metal, torso-shaped rig covered in syringes and medical equipment onto the table.

"This is called a chem rig. Pioneered by the Morallians in the Eastern Fringe, picked up by various mercenaries, and now heavily used on this ship. The rig is outfitted with several syringes filled with either medicines or light drugs such as the adrenaline-based Pulse, the sedative Sacred and a few other things. It's not been researched to any degree, but there appear to be no short term effects. Still, it could be dangerous long term. Soldiers buy these to increase their combat efficiency, so it can be of help to us."

"The gladiators use it. It's effective," Olive says.

"I've seen my Tribals use it as well. It helps, but it does tend to lead to the start of heavy drug usage that can go downhill."
> You allow
"Allow it," you say.

"Alright then," Elizabeth says, looking down at her notes. She fumbles through her pockets, pulling out two packets. One of a white, granular powder, the other is a brown one, looking like grinded up dirt. "Here we have Zap and Dirt. Zap can be snorted, eaten or drank with alcohol to perk up energy levels and increase reaction time, while Dust is inhaled to improve your senses. These drugs DO have a few negative effects. Mood swings and some minor mental problems with the former, respiratory issues with the latter. There's not very popular, but only as it's fairly new and we haven't stopped at ports recently."

"Thoughts?" you ask.

"I don't have enough research to formulate an opinion," Elizabeth admits.

"Allow Zap! That shit's good!" Castus says, finally paying attention, before getting distraction by a smudge of... something on the table.

"Perhaps its effect on mental health are really serious. I mean, look at Castus," Olive says.


Now that you're finished working on repairing the ship and its back to full abilities, you have another issue. You restock at a nearby outlaw planet, trading much of Kyros' personal wealth in order to outfit and repair the ship, which is made simple with Primus' help. Ship operation seems actually fairly simple. As long as Amadeus is under your thumb and the military might is yours, you'll be fine. Most of the hard work required is done by Primus. With those two, you're golden.

One of the main issues, though, is the mutants. As your slaves have all been wiped out or had joined up with one of the war-bands, Kyros or your forces during the mutiny, mutants are now filling in most of the crew roles aboard this vessel. The thing is, they're getting antsy about their position, wanting more power and a say in the decisions of the vessel. Reports say that a mutant known as John the Hermit is leading the mutants, inciting dissent and rallying the masses of mutants.

Although the mutants are seen as an irrelevant issue by most, you know that's not the case. They're tough, with naturally mutated weapons, and there's massive numbers of them. If they're genuinely organized and inspired by this John the Hermit, they could easily take the ship when you're at low strength.
> You ignore the issue
You ignore the issue, throwing a few extra guards in defensive positions to show your strength and ward off the rebellious mutant hordes. Unfortunately, you're simply unprepared for the scale of this rebellion. John the Hermit must have been planning this for decades, behind Kyros' back. Stores of ammo and weapons, hidden in stockpiles in the parts of the ship that hadn't been searched in millennia, are unearthed, as many of the functions of the ship cease as the mutants stop working. While your forces have better training, better equipment, better everything, as it has been said before, quantity has a whole quality of its own. The endless mutant hordes, entirely willing to die for their cause, all willing to martyr themselves as John the Hermit did.

As you stand in the war-room, surrounded by an army of mutants, burning dozens as lightning runs along your fingertips and psychic blasts kill all who could hope to oppose you, the mutants begin to overwhelm you. As their tentacles, hands and claws bring you down, tearing you apart, you have a brief musing about how similar this is to Kyros' death.


You walk down the landing ramp, looking out at the large walls that surround the massive factory-city. Nude men wander around, covered in grease and holding large tools. Fay walks out of the landing, a shoulder-mounted camera and speaker on her to give Primus a place to speak and see.

"Well... I guess they're nude. What a lovely view, am I right, Karth?" Fay smirks.

"You grew up in a tribe of nudists," you remark.

"Yeah, but that was when I was little. Now that I'm post-pubescent, I can appreciate the view."

You flick your wrist, sending her tumbling to the ground.

"Asshole," she laughs, oping back to her feet.

A thick, burly, oil-covered man walks forward from the crowd of workers, a huge wrench in his hands.

"What?" he grunts.

"My name's Karth. I..."

You see a brawl emerge from the crowd to your left. Two massive workers begin to fight, their massive fists smashing into each other with an astonishing strength. They let out howling shouts as more men join into the fight. The leader strides forward with a growl, swinging his wrench and smashing a few men in the head, forcing them to crumple to the ground. Soon, the fight ends with a bunch of injured men lying on the ground.

"Sorry 'bout that," the leader says. "One of the boys thought Chef gave him too little meat. You know how men are. The name's O'Neill."

"You know why we're here?" you ask.

"You wanted to hire some of my men, huh? This Primus fella or whoever the fuck I talked to cleared it up with me," O'Neill asks. "I can get it done. We've been having a population explosion. But I want something in return."

"Go on?" you ask.

"My men are taken care of. Good medical treatment, free food, rooms and drink, and I mean men's drink, not milk and honey-shit, as well as payment for their work done. In exchange, I'll give you all the men you need. We gotta deal?"
> You refuse
"No. In five minutes, we've seen your men behave as brutes, and you're asking for too much," you say.

O'Neill spits on the ground and snarls.

"Get the fuck outta here, boy," he says.

With that, you quickly depart and head back to your ship.


"We'll stay," you say, as Durge nods.

"Well... this'll be interesting," Meliodas grins, twisting Meliodas' daemonic face.

"Alright," Elios grunts. "What's next on the agenda?"

"The ship," Primus says. "Or me, for lack of a better word. I have gotten it running to a degree and it's capable of travel, there's no way it will be able to hold up in a fight or operate long-term."

"How do we fix it?" you ask.

"The death of the Tech-Priests has left us lacking men specialized to repair the ship. I've found three groups that could hypothetically fulfill that role, as well as two other solutions."

"Go on," you reply.

"There is the Rutherford-Dalton-Boyle Think Tank, a faction hidden away in several space stations, researching and creating in the gas giant of Ingenium-IV. A good negotiator should be able to convince at least some of them to leave their stations to come aboard the Roar of the Vortex to continue their research aboard our vessel as well as having access to huge archives of intelligence here, being able to research the ship and maintaining that the technology isn't lost."

"Who else?" you ask,

"The Iron Smiths of Daeranthium. Daeranthium is a planet that contains several ancient factories and forges, with massive amounts of resources such as huge, ancient mines. The planet, while tribal in culture, are advanced enough to produce weapons, vehicles, armor and more for the Imperium. We could attempt to negotiate with them to take some of their men aboard to fulfill the role of engineers."

"And the final group?"

"The Dark Mechanicus is Chaos' version of the Adeptus Mechanicus, whether it be those from the Adeptus Mechanicus who went rogue and were corrupted by Chaos, or those recruited by them. Their work requires manpower that they don't have. I've found reports of a Dark Mechanicus group known as the Harbringers of Menedez. They've already made a reputation for selling slaves trained with skills such as the ones we desire. For five million Thrones, we could have them soon to fulfill the required role."

"You said you have two other options. What are they?"

"Option one involves the funding an education program to educate the mutant workers. For ten million Thrones, we could educate the mutant population. They wouldn't be as experienced as other options, but quantity has a whole quality all it's own."

"And...?" you say before Primus interrupts you. The

"Option two is more cruel. We have the technology and cybernetics taken from the dead Techpriests and Servitors. If you were willing to lobotomize a few of the mutant workers we have, the least intelligent and productive, to create a new legion of servitors under my control. This would be cheap, effective and we could have it done in the night to avoid breaking night, framing it as accidents. So, which option shall it be?"
> You purchase the slaves from the Harbringers of Menedez
The trade is, thankfully, uneventful. You're given the slaves, who include humans, Tau, Gretchin, Snotlings and more are all given bomb collars to make sure they do as you've asked. They're well-trained and efficient workers, even though they need to be given a tight leash and constantly guarded, and there's some acts of sabotage, their efficiency makes up for it, and they improve as workers as you treat the most loyal, least rebellious better. The slave-engineers will most certainly fulfill any and every role you have for them.


"We'll stay," you say, as Durge nods.

"Well... this'll be interesting," Meliodas grins, twisting Meliodas' daemonic face.

"Alright," Elios grunts. "What's next on the agenda?"

"The ship," Primus says. "Or me, for lack of a better word. I have gotten it running to a degree and it's capable of travel, there's no way it will be able to hold up in a fight or operate long-term."

"How do we fix it?" you ask.

"The death of the Tech-Priests has left us lacking men specialized to repair the ship. I've found three groups that could hypothetically fulfill that role, as well as two other solutions."

"Go on," you reply.

"There is the Rutherford-Dalton-Boyle Think Tank, a faction hidden away in several space stations, researching and creating in the gas giant of Ingenium-IV. A good negotiator should be able to convince at least some of them to leave their stations to come aboard the Roar of the Vortex to continue their research aboard our vessel as well as having access to huge archives of intelligence here, being able to research the ship and maintaining that the technology isn't lost."

"Who else?" you ask,

"The Iron Smiths of Daeranthium. Daeranthium is a planet that contains several ancient factories and forges, with massive amounts of resources such as huge, ancient mines. The planet, while tribal in culture, are advanced enough to produce weapons, vehicles, armor and more for the Imperium. We could attempt to negotiate with them to take some of their men aboard to fulfill the role of engineers."

"And the final group?"

"The Dark Mechanicus is Chaos' version of the Adeptus Mechanicus, whether it be those from the Adeptus Mechanicus who went rogue and were corrupted by Chaos, or those recruited by them. Their work requires manpower that they don't have. I've found reports of a Dark Mechanicus group known as the Harbringers of Menedez. They've already made a reputation for selling slaves trained with skills such as the ones we desire. For five million Thrones, we could have them soon to fulfill the required role."

"You said you have two other options. What are they?"

"Option one involves the funding an education program to educate the mutant workers. For ten million Thrones, we could educate the mutant population. They wouldn't be as experienced as other options, but quantity has a whole quality all it's own."

"And...?" you say before Primus interrupts you. The

"Option two is more cruel. We have the technology and cybernetics taken from the dead Techpriests and Servitors. If you were willing to lobotomize a few of the mutant workers we have, the least intelligent and productive, to create a new legion of servitors under my control. This would be cheap, effective and we could have it done in the night to avoid breaking night, framing it as accidents. So, which option shall it be?"
> You visit the Rutherford-Dalton-Boyle Think Tank
Your shuttle slowly enters the gas giant, as you lose visibility of the outside. You immediately begin to feel nervous, even though your new pilot, a young and newly liberated slave by the name of Hawkins, assures you that his sensors can tell everything that's going on with ease.

"Who are you?" a voice comes over the comms system.

"Commander? You want to answer that?" Hawkins asks, as you grab the radio.

"The name's Karth," you say. "I'm here to make a deal."

"Go on..." the voice replies.

"We'd like to hire your men to work and repair our vessel."

"In exchange for?"

"We'll feed you, cloth you, give you board, medical attention, allow you access to our vast databanks of information, let you research the ship as well as continue your research."

"Hmmm... come aboard," the voice comes back.

Through the scans of your ship, the space station is made out to be a large vessel made of a large ring around a central sphere. Your shuttle docks, and the doors open.

The men on the other side are... simply aren't men. It seems they've taken cybernetization to an insane degree. All that remains of their organic forms are bright pink brains floating in tanks of green fluid.

One is a tank attached to a cylindrical body with tiny, stumpy legs and dozens of long tentacles with various tools attached to the ends.

Another is a levitating, odd shape with a single long, segmented arm ending in a three-pronged claw, as well as multiple tubes situated at the front, holding things such as cathode rays, magnetic beams and a small bunsen burner.

The rest are all just as weird, lacking forms that were even vaguely humanoid. One, a brain jar hanging from four long legs, slowly walks forward, peering down at you with green electronic eyes.

"You must be Karth," it says in a dull, monotone voice. "My name is Dr Malakai the Skull Taker."

"Malakai the Skull taker?" you ask, curiously.

"We all have wild lives before the call of academia takes us, do we now?" Dr Malakai says. "I most certainly did."

"What does this institute do?"

"We're an institute of former techpriests dedicated to knowledge. We search outside the tight restrictions of the God-Emperor or the Omnissiah, or the corruption of the Dark Gods."

"What do you have to say of my offer?"

"The research we're doing in regards to the formation of compounds in gas giants. If you expect us to give over the majority of our staff to you, we want something extra."

"What more could you want?" you ask.

"In exchange for funding, we could turn our focus to more practical sciences and research that could help the ship, whilst working on the Roar of the Vortex."

"How much?" you ask.

"Research is actually very expensive. You need test subjects, research..."

"How much?"

"Realistically, twenty million thrones."

"That's ridiculous!" you say.

"That's the only offer I'm willing to make."
> You agree
You hire the scientists, and soon find that it has benefits. Although much of the scientist's work is stuff far beyond your head, such as the physics behind the atom or the combustion of stars, much of it helps you. Through their work, they research and build massive solar panels on the ship which lowers fuel costs, increases the nutrition levels of nutrient paste to cut down food costs and do endlessly more. In the end, their innovations actually end up saving you twenty five million Thrones, giving you a hefty five million in profit from hiring them. Not bad for a day's work, if you do say so yourself.


Your shuttle slowly enters the gas giant, as you lose visibility of the outside. You immediately begin to feel nervous, even though your new pilot, a young and newly liberated slave by the name of Hawkins, assures you that his sensors can tell everything that's going on with ease.

"Who are you?" a voice comes over the comms system.

"Commander? You want to answer that?" Hawkins asks, as you grab the radio.

"The name's Karth," you say. "I'm here to make a deal."

"Go on..." the voice replies.

"We'd like to hire your men to work and repair our vessel."

"In exchange for?"

"We'll feed you, cloth you, give you board, medical attention, allow you access to our vast databanks of information, let you research the ship as well as continue your research."

"Hmmm... come aboard," the voice comes back.

Through the scans of your ship, the space station is made out to be a large vessel made of a large ring around a central sphere. Your shuttle docks, and the doors open.

The men on the other side are... simply aren't men. It seems they've taken cybernetization to an insane degree. All that remains of their organic forms are bright pink brains floating in tanks of green fluid.

One is a tank attached to a cylindrical body with tiny, stumpy legs and dozens of long tentacles with various tools attached to the ends.

Another is a levitating, odd shape with a single long, segmented arm ending in a three-pronged claw, as well as multiple tubes situated at the front, holding things such as cathode rays, magnetic beams and a small bunsen burner.

The rest are all just as weird, lacking forms that were even vaguely humanoid. One, a brain jar hanging from four long legs, slowly walks forward, peering down at you with green electronic eyes.

"You must be Karth," it says in a dull, monotone voice. "My name is Dr Malakai the Skull Taker."

"Malakai the Skull taker?" you ask, curiously.

"We all have wild lives before the call of academia takes us, do we now?" Dr Malakai says. "I most certainly did."

"What does this institute do?"

"We're an institute of former techpriests dedicated to knowledge. We search outside the tight restrictions of the God-Emperor or the Omnissiah, or the corruption of the Dark Gods."

"What do you have to say of my offer?"

"The research we're doing in regards to the formation of compounds in gas giants. If you expect us to give over the majority of our staff to you, we want something extra."

"What more could you want?" you ask.

"In exchange for funding, we could turn our focus to more practical sciences and research that could help the ship, whilst working on the Roar of the Vortex."

"How much?" you ask.

"Research is actually very expensive. You need test subjects, research..."

"How much?"

"Realistically, twenty million thrones."

"That's ridiculous!" you say.

"That's the only offer I'm willing to make."
> You refuse
"No deal," you say. "Lower the price."

"I'm sorry, as a man interested in science, I can't agree to anything else."

"I suppose we've reached an impasse, then," you say.

"Agreed. Well then if none of us will move on this issue, I suppose our deal is finished."

To be fair, the Doctor remains amicable, offering you a tour of the facilities. You politely decline, nearly falling asleep as he explains the "exciting world of the atomic radius!", so you're sure an extended tour wouldn't be the best use of your time. You depart on good terms, and head back to your ship.


You fire a bolt of energy, but Kyros sidesteps it with unnatural speed. By now, all the various leaders are standing, their weapons raised.

"How did you pass my sensors?" Primus asks.

"Please," Kyros laughs. "Did you not think my powers are strong enough to do so?"

"How the fuck are you even alive, Kyros?" you ask.

"Kyros? Ha! Kyros was a petty fool. Don't you recognize me, Karth?"

You shake your head, still ready to engulf him in flames.

"No? You don't remember my little voice in the back of your mind? I am Meliodas," Kyros says, taking a bow.

"What?" you ask.

"Oh, it was simple. I've wanted to take a form in this world for some time. I helped you, paying close attention, seeing potential, and assisted you as best I could. Fortunately, as you fought Kyros, I saw his mental defenses weaken during the fight between you and him. As he lay dying, the mutants at his throat, he was broken. I easily possessed his form, devoured his soul, and killed those stupid mutants with my daemonic powers."

"You're a daemon?" Elios asks.

"Damn right," Kyros, or Meliodas, says.

You take some time to explain who Meliodas is to your other lieutenants, but soon they understand. After some extensive questioning and psychic testing to ensure that this is in fact Meliodas, he takes a seat at the table.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Well, I helped advise Karth. I'm one of his best advisors. Surely I deserve a place here?" Meliodas says.

"I suppose," you say.

"Give him a seat. Us Chaos followers could use an extra vote for our side," Durge says. "Now, can we continue?"

"Don't hold off on my account," Meliodas grins.

"Alright, let's be realistic, shall we?" Elios says. "We're Chaos. We worship the Dark Gods, corrupt, parlay with demons, all that shit. We're not changing. We also know that we've lost a shit-ton more men because of little sis' rage against us, so if this comes down to a civil war, we're all dead and you win."

"Go on," you say.

"So, we have two options. Option One: You keep control of the ship," Durge says. "We'll serve under you as long as we see fit, but we most likely don't leave, and we decide our path forward as a group."

"Option two: you abandon the ship to us," Durge says. "We find you a world of your choosing, a little paradise world far from the reaches of the Imperium or any other enemies. It'll be our gift to you. You can pick out the world, we'll transport any who want to go there to it as well as all you'll need to survive and build a large, happy community. You'll be able to peacefully retire and live out the rest of your lives, never worrying about this ship or the battles it will fight."

"One moment," you say, pulling your lieutenants together. "So... What do we think?"

"Eh," Cain grunts.

"We're not going to abandon this ship, are we?" Olive asks.

"This is a massive war machine. We should stay.

"I'm not adverse to settling down," Fay says. "But we could take the ship anyway. With control of the ship, we could carve ourselves a little empire. Nothing on the level of Kyros' aspirations, but hey, better than our ancestors could ever have dreamed of."
> You find a world to settle on
"None of us chose to fight, that fate was forced on us by the mad warlord Kyros," you say. "I know we'll never regain our lost lives. But we can get something close. Find us a world to settle on."

"Terrific! I'll be sorry to see you finish before the jobs done," Elios says, winking. "But you can remake your lives, we can remake ours, we'll all live happily ever after."

"Are there many worlds outside the reach of the Imperium?"

Elizabeth pulls out a datapad and begins tapping on it.

"Setting parameters... out of reach of Imperium... lack of Chaos, Ork or Dark Eldar attacks... out of reach of Tyranid swarms... suitable climate for human body... few destructive elements... oh, why are there so many hits? Oh yes, forgot to factor in the Tau... OK, we've got a few hits. Let me sort through them."

After a few minutes of researching the planets, Elizabeth has three possible worlds to settle on.

The first is a familiar world, because it's yours. The planet is the one you were raised on, where your people lived and died for endless generations. Kyros' looting of the planet has caused some damage, with the Great Lakes drained to a serious extent, leaving them a third of their size. The woods are half their size, with the remaining woods now overrun with Orks. Despite these issues, the planet is still one the Tribals would be happy to see, it's climate near perfect for you.

The second planet is known as Hararan-IV, the fourth planet I'm it's solar system of Harandan. The planet is for the most part sea, spotted with islands. The planet is prone to pirates, who land to rest, repair their vessel and resupply from the planet's rivers and abundant jungles. It's one or the few planets entirely free of Orks. It has a wealth of life, food, water and other resources, although it suffers from extreme tsunamis that could be a serious issue.

Finally, you have New Marsbourth. Unlike the two other planets, New Marsbourth is a bustling planet. Although it operates outside of the control of the Imperium, it has grown significantly, a huge population that farms, manufactures, works and lives. The planet is controlled by several warlords, fighting for control of the planet. This permanent state if war has drawn mercenaries, seen the manufacture of massive fortresses and the assembling of huge armies, which has warded off any attacks. You could easily become the largest military faction on the planet and attempt to wrest control, or build up a large, isolated community and see how city life is for you.
> You home
It's a pretty simple process. Amadeus seems eager to get rid of you, so when he's told to take the ship back to your homeworld, he's gleeful.

Once your arrive, the Staine siblings have another question.

"Just to be sure, what is it you want to be done?" Dirge asks, as you squeamishly notice that the eat living in him has sired babies.

"What do you mean?" you reply.

"Well, so you want us to let you off with a small amount of supplies so you can continue your nomadic, tribal lifestyle as you once did, or do you want us to help you set up a little city, a hub from which you can operate and enjoy our little technological boons?"

Huh. What an interesting question. What DO you want? Are you actually planning to abandon all the technologies you've been using to resume a tribal life?
> You tribal Life
"As you wish," Durge says.

It's only a matter of days as you ferry  soldiers to the planet. Eventually, you find yourself with the other tribals, Goliaths and gladiators on the planet. You stand by Fay, looking at the plains, now considerably bigger, that you grew up in.

"Well, we're home," Fay says.

"We are. Well, let's see where this goes," you reply.

Now, the future is yours.
> Three Years Later...
Tribal

Life is hard. Kyros' scouring of the planet for resources has driven many plant and animal species that you once relied on for food extinct. You're required to travel even more constantly than you once did, as life is permanently tough and hath without much respite, and few luxuries.

The Orks are another issue. With the destruction and kidnapping of the tribes, they've spread extensively. While your newfound "tribe" are killing machines, it seems the Orks are never-ending. You push them back, though these battles are not without their losses, which you will take a while to get back from, which leads to another issue: reproduction.

You find yourself struggling to make up your numbers. The Goliaths are infertile, most not even having genitals. The tribals are more successful, but not by much. It seems Kyros' experiments have taken their toll. Infertility rates are high, as are the amount of miscarriages. A few manage, though, the offs of which increase when partnered with a non-tribal. The gladiators are the only ones who have great success here, as their numbers multiply as young, physically fit people do as young, physical fit people do.

Despite these issues, your tribe perseveres. Your relationship with Fay improves, as you eventually have a vaster sized combination of an Uwais marriage and an Azajaja bonding ritual. If anything, Kyros' experiments have increased your fertility, as you soon find yourself with a child. Thankfully Fay hasn't suffered the miscarriage issue, and you find yourself with a little ball of screaming flesh known as a child. The child seems perfect, having a strong body and a powerful mind, the best of both her parents.

It is this child that gives you hope. A child with the best of both her parents, who will weather any hardships the world. Your tribe are driving the Orks to extinction. The jungle is spreading again, and with it the planets and animals that you rely on. The present may harsh, but the future is forever hopeful.


"As you wish," Durge says.

It's only a matter of days as you ferry  soldiers to the planet. Eventually, you find yourself with the other tribals, Goliaths and gladiators on the planet. You stand by Fay, looking at the plains, now considerably bigger, that you grew up in.

"Well, we're home," Fay says.

"We are. Well, let's see where this goes," you reply.

Now, the future is yours.
> Three Years Later...
Tribal

Life is hard. Kyros' scouring of the planet for resources has driven many plant and animal species that you once relied on for food extinct. You're required to travel even more constantly than you once did, as life is permanently tough and hath without much respite, and few luxuries.

The Orks are another issue. With the destruction and kidnapping of the tribes, they've spread extensively. While your newfound "tribe" are killing machines, it seems the Orks are never-ending. You push them back, though these battles are not without their losses, which you will take a while to get back from, which leads to another issue: reproduction.

You find yourself struggling to make up your numbers. The Goliaths are infertile, most not even having genitals. The tribals are more successful, but not by much. It seems Kyros' experiments have taken their toll. Infertility rates are high, as are the amount of miscarriages. A few manage, though, the offs of which increase when partnered with a non-tribal. The gladiators are the only ones who have great success here, as their numbers multiply as young, physically fit people do as young, physical fit people do.

Despite these issues, your tribe perseveres. You find a girl, a pretty gladiator with few scars and a gorgeous mane of fiery red hair. The fact that her breasts are the size of melons is coincidental to your attraction. You both eventually have a combination of an Uwais marriage and an Gladiator bonding ritual, which you nearly pass out during when you have to cut open the palm of your hand. If anything, Kyros' experiments have increased your fertility, as you soon find yourself with a child. The child seems perfect, having a strong body and a powerful mind, the best of both her parents.

It is this child that gives you hope. A child with the best of both her parents, who will weather any hardships the world. Your tribe are driving the Orks to extinction. The jungle is spreading again, and with it the planets and animals that you rely on. The present may harsh, but the future is forever hopeful.


It's a pretty simple process. Amadeus seems eager to get rid of you, so when he's told to take the ship back to your homeworld, he's gleeful.

Once your arrive, the Staine siblings have another question.

"Just to be sure, what is it you want to be done?" Dirge asks, as you squeamishly notice that the eat living in him has sired babies.

"What do you mean?" you reply.

"Well, so you want us to let you off with a small amount of supplies so you can continue your nomadic, tribal lifestyle as you once did, or do you want us to help you set up a little city, a hub from which you can operate and enjoy our little technological boons?"

Huh. What an interesting question. What DO you want? Are you actually planning to abandon all the technologies you've been using to resume a tribal life?
> You city Life
"As you wish," Durge says.

The next few weeks are spent ferrying equipment, supplies and building materials from the Roar of the Vortex to the planet, where your men begin to assemble a city. Concrete walls defended by gun emplacements, large apartment blocks for your people, a working hospital and school, vast farms being set up along the lake with the farming techniques being taught to your people.

You find yourself standing atop the throne room, staring out as a group of Goliaths raise up a wall, finishing off the generator room they were making. Fay stands next to you, staring out.

"Well, we're home," Fay says.

"We are. Well, let's see where this goes," you reply.

Now, the future is yours.
> Three Years Later...
The Tribal City

Life is good. Although Kyros' scouring of the planet for resources has driven many plant and animal species that you once relied on for food extinct, the farming methods allow for food production without wearing out the soil, and quickly bring up the number of crop plants until they're bountiful. You introduce breeding programmes to rapidly increase the numbers of prey animals, even creating subspecies, such as a subspecies of the Rukt bird that go from small, wild birds that soar above the forests to a species of fat, placid birds that can barely glide. You even bring back the puk in full force, and their numbers explode. Water issues are still a problem, but you're capable of drilling into underground rivers and water reservoirs to deal with that.

The Orks are still a problem, but a maintainable one. Your forces are killing machines, and their strength is amplified tenfold by the huge walls and gun emplacements. Even after having been let grow strong while you were off-world, you're still easily capable of breaking the strength of these beasts, pushing the Orks from huge threat to simple nuisance, and with look you'll soon be pushing them to extinction.

One of the few issues facing you is fertility. The Goliaths are infertile, and Kyros' experimentation has taken its toll on the Tribals, so they have a high infertility rate and a high rate of miscarriages. Their chances of successfully conceiving and birthing a child increases with regular trips to the hospital, which with the massive birth rate among the gladiators means that your population is growing, but the fertility issues keep your people from spreading over the land, at least within your expected lifetime.

Your relationship with Fay improves, as you eventually have a vaster sized combination of an Uwais marriage and an Azajaja bonding ritual. If anything, Kyros' experiments have increased your fertility, as you soon find yourself with a child. Thankfully Fay hasn't suffered the miscarriage issue, and you find yourself with a little ball of screaming flesh known as a child. The child seems perfect, having a strong body and a powerful mind, the best of both her parents.

This child will lead the next generation. They will live in this city, a city that is both futuristic and based in the tribalistic traditions of the past, and will continue building it. They will use this city, your gift to them, to conquer, to build, to create, to spread and to exist. With them, with the next generation, with your child, lies the future.


"As you wish," Durge says.

The next few weeks are spent ferrying equipment, supplies and building materials from the Roar of the Vortex to the planet, where your men begin to assemble a city. Concrete walls defended by gun emplacements, large apartment blocks for your people, a working hospital and school, vast farms being set up along the lake with the farming techniques being taught to your people.

You find yourself standing atop the throne room, staring out as a group of Goliaths raise up a wall, finishing off the generator room they were making. Fay stands next to you, staring out.

"Well, we're home," Fay says.

"We are. Well, let's see where this goes," you reply.

Now, the future is yours.
> Three Years Later...
Tribal City

Life is good. Although Kyros' scouring of the planet for resources has driven many plant and animal species that you once relied on for food extinct, the farming methods allow for food production without wearing out the soil, and quickly bring up the number of crop plants until they're bountiful. You introduce breeding programs to rapidly increase the numbers of prey animals, even creating subspecies, such as a subspecies of the Rukt bird that go from small, wild birds that soar above the forests to a species of fat, placid birds that can barely glide. You even bring back the puk in full force, and their numbers explode. Water issues are still a problem, but you're capable of drilling into underground rivers and water reservoirs to deal with that.

The Orks are still a problem, but a maintainable one. Your forces are killing machines, and their strength is amplified tenfold by the huge walls and gun emplacements. Even after having been let grow strong while you were off-world, you're still easily capable of breaking the strength of these beasts, pushing the Orks from huge threat to simple nuisance, and with look you'll soon be pushing them to extinction.

One of the few issues facing you is fertility. The Goliaths are infertile, and Kyros' experimentation has taken its toll on the Tribals, so they have a high infertility rate and a high rate of miscarriages. Their chances of successfully conceiving and birthing a child increases with regular trips to the hospital, which with the massive birth rate among the gladiators means that your population is growing, but the fertility issues keep your people from spreading over the land, at least within your expected lifetime.

You find a girl, a pretty gladiator with few scars and a gorgeous mane of fiery red hair. The fact that her breasts are the size of melons is coincidental to your attraction. You both eventually have a combination of an Uwais marriage and an Gladiator bonding ritual, which you nearly pass out during when you have to cut open the palm of your hand. If anything, Kyros' experiments have increased your fertility, as you soon find yourself with a child. The child seems perfect, having a strong body and a powerful mind, the best of both her parents.

This child will lead the next generation. They will live in this city, a city that is both futuristic and based in the tribalistic traditions of the past, and will continue building it. They will use this city, your gift to them, to conquer, to build, to create, to spread and to exist. With them, with the next generation, with your child, lies the future.


"None of us chose to fight, that fate was forced on us by the mad warlord Kyros," you say. "I know we'll never regain our lost lives. But we can get something close. Find us a world to settle on."

"Terrific! I'll be sorry to see you finish before the jobs done," Elios says, winking. "But you can remake your lives, we can remake ours, we'll all live happily ever after."

"Are there many worlds outside the reach of the Imperium?"

Elizabeth pulls out a datapad and begins tapping on it.

"Setting parameters... out of reach of Imperium... lack of Chaos, Ork or Dark Eldar attacks... out of reach of Tyranid swarms... suitable climate for human body... few destructive elements... oh, why are there so many hits? Oh yes, forgot to factor in the Tau... OK, we've got a few hits. Let me sort through them."

After a few minutes of researching the planets, Elizabeth has three possible worlds to settle on.

The first is a familiar world, because it's yours. The planet is the one you were raised on, where your people lived and died for endless generations. Kyros' looting of the planet has caused some damage, with the Great Lakes drained to a serious extent, leaving them a third of their size. The woods are half their size, with the remaining woods now overrun with Orks. Despite these issues, the planet is still one the Tribals would be happy to see, it's climate near perfect for you.

The second planet is known as Hararan-IV, the fourth planet I'm it's solar system of Harandan. The planet is for the most part sea, spotted with islands. The planet is prone to pirates, who land to rest, repair their vessel and resupply from the planet's rivers and abundant jungles. It's one or the few planets entirely free of Orks. It has a wealth of life, food, water and other resources, although it suffers from extreme tsunamis that could be a serious issue.

Finally, you have New Marsbourth. Unlike the two other planets, New Marsbourth is a bustling planet. Although it operates outside of the control of the Imperium, it has grown significantly, a huge population that farms, manufactures, works and lives. The planet is controlled by several warlords, fighting for control of the planet. This permanent state if war has drawn mercenaries, seen the manufacture of massive fortresses and the assembling of huge armies, which has warded off any attacks. You could easily become the largest military faction on the planet and attempt to wrest control, or build up a large, isolated community and see how city life is for you.
> You haravan-IV
Amadeus, more than happy to see you leave and the leadership of the vessel to fall into command of the Staine siblings who will eagerly shower him in luxury to appease him,  gleefully navigates the vessel towards Hararan-IV. Landers ferry people, equipment, supplies and rare resources down to the planet, where they begin to set up a huge settlement, which take the form of massive, sprawling underground bunkers to avoid the constant destruction and need to rebuild because of the tsunamis that would come from above-ground structures. The prize of these settlements are. Huge orbital cannons being employed, made from a few of the ships macro cannons, designed to fend off any pirates who attempt to land there. While the Gloriana-class vessel is in orbit, a pirate vessel soon shows up. Rather than flee or attack, the pirate captain demands a parlay. Soon, you find him and two human guards in the war-room, with as he tries to make a deal with you.

"Mr Karth, I'm Captain Lipton. I'm a man of action, but I'm also a man of words. You don't become a pirate captain by endless bloody violence like a Chaos war-band, you become one by getting the nob done, whether that be with violence or words. The planet you have chosen to settle on is very valuable. It's good for giving a crew rest, it has exotic food, beasts and spices that are very valuable, it's away from any powerful forces that would seek to stop us, and it's near a popular trade route while on a good smuggling route."

"OK. What's your point?" you ask.

"I want to make an alliance. You have a powerful hold on the planet. I propose that together, we build a port, to supply the the pirates and smugglers in the section. My forces will build and maintain it. All you need is to protect it, and give us use if the land. Every pirate that lands will give us a bit of the plunder. Every smuggler that lands will bring us exotic goods and rsre luxuries. We'll be rich!"

Hmmm... it's an interesting proposition. What to do?
> You agree
"Done," you say.

"Perfect," Captain Lipton says.

He extends a hand, which you shake. He slides a bottle of red liquid and two glasses from a cost pickets popping it on the table, followed by a lighter and two big lho-sticks. He pours some liquid in both glasses, offering one to you.

"Here's to success," he says.

"To success," you reply, downing your drink.
> Three Years Later...
Paradise and Luxury

You lie in a hammock, a bottle of spiced wine in your hands. You've become quite accustomed to the drink, as have many nobles and rich merchants apparently, hence why its smuggled through here on a regular basis. You watch as Landers land in the distance, trying to tell whether they're the Morallian smugglers or the space marine pirates.

Your relationship with Captain Lipton has been a profitable one. The standard of living for your men has risen greatly, as a huge amount of wealth floods through here, as well as rare and exotic goods and luxuries that you're all eager to get your hands on. You know Captain Lipton hasn't exactly been fair with the agreement, taking the lion's share of the profit to fund his wars for control with the other pirate vessels, but you're making enough that you couldn't give a flying fuck.

Your relationship with Fay goes well. You have a wedding festival, a grand event that cost a small fortune. Soon, a child is conceived, a beautiful daughter with her mother's body and her father's powerful mind. You know she will do great things some day.

Although your life is pleasurable and easy, you do have one major issue, one problem that has driven you to drink, to gamble, to eat, to take various drugs and to laze around: boredom. The only fights you get to take part in are stopping the occasional drunken scuffle or fending off a raid which the orbital cannons make an ease. You feel you've wasted your potential here. Still, you're happy. You've a daughter to carry on your legacy. What more could a man want?


"Done," you say.

"Perfect," Captain Lipton says.

He extends a hand, which you shake. He slides a bottle of red liquid and two glasses from a cost pickets popping it on the table, followed by a lighter and two big lho-sticks. He pours some liquid in both glasses, offering one to you.

"Here's to success," he says.

"To success," you reply, downing your drink.
> Three Years Later...
Paradise and Luxury

You lie in a hammock, a bottle of spiced wine in your hands. You've become quite accustomed to the drink, as have many nobles and rich merchants apparently, hence why its smuggled through here on a regular basis. You watch as Landers land in the distance, trying to tell whether they're the Morallian smugglers or the space marine pirates.

Your relationship with Captain Lipton has been a profitable one. The standard of living for your men has risen greatly, as a huge amount of wealth floods through here, as well as rare and exotic goods and luxuries that you're all eager to get your hands on. You know Captain Lipton hasn't exactly been fair with the agreement, taking the lion's share of the profit to fund his wars for control with the other pirate vessels, but you're making enough that you couldn't give a flying fuck.

You find a wife soon. The first slaving vessel lands, attempting to repair and perhaps sell a few of its slaves. You quickly make sure that it's the last slave vessel, as you force the crew into slavery and release the slaves, unwilling to force people into the same slavery as you were forced into. One of the slaves, a beautiful girl with fiery red hair and a gorgeous face. The big pair of tits don't hurt either. You have a wedding festival, a grand event that cost a small fortune. Soon, a child is concieved, a beautiful daughter with her mother's kindness amd humility and her father's powerful mind. Hopefully, she won't have her mother's tits, because you'll skin any suitor that makes a pass at your little angel. You know she will do great things some day.

Although your life is pleasurable and easy, you do have one major issue, one problem that has driven you to drink, to gamble, to eat, to take various drugs and to laze around: boredom. The only fights you get to take part in are stopping the occasional drunken scuffle or fending off a raid which the orbital cannons make an ease. You feel you've wasted your potential here. Still, you're happy. You've a daughter to carry on your legacy. What more could a man want?


Amadeus, more than happy to see you leave and the leadership of the vessel to fall into command of the Staine siblings who will eagerly shower him in luxury to appease him,  gleefully navigates the vessel towards Hararan-IV. Landers ferry people, equipment, supplies and rare resources down to the planet, where they begin to set up a huge settlement, which take the form of massive, sprawling underground bunkers to avoid the constant destruction and need to rebuild because of the tsunamis that would come from above-ground structures. The prize of these settlements are. Huge orbital cannons being employed, made from a few of the ships macro cannons, designed to fend off any pirates who attempt to land there. While the Gloriana-class vessel is in orbit, a pirate vessel soon shows up. Rather than flee or attack, the pirate captain demands a parlay. Soon, you find him and two human guards in the war-room, with as he tries to make a deal with you.

"Mr Karth, I'm Captain Lipton. I'm a man of action, but I'm also a man of words. You don't become a pirate captain by endless bloody violence like a Chaos war-band, you become one by getting the nob done, whether that be with violence or words. The planet you have chosen to settle on is very valuable. It's good for giving a crew rest, it has exotic food, beasts and spices that are very valuable, it's away from any powerful forces that would seek to stop us, and it's near a popular trade route while on a good smuggling route."

"OK. What's your point?" you ask.

"I want to make an alliance. You have a powerful hold on the planet. I propose that together, we build a port, to supply the the pirates and smugglers in the section. My forces will build and maintain it. All you need is to protect it, and give us use if the land. Every pirate that lands will give us a bit of the plunder. Every smuggler that lands will bring us exotic goods and rsre luxuries. We'll be rich!"

Hmmm... it's an interesting proposition. What to do?
> You refuse
"No, I'm not getting involved with pirates. I'm getting out of this game of fighting and plotting, not stepping down to meddle in it," you say.

"So be it..." Captain Lipton sneers. "But remember me when you're starving on your little dirtball before a man not as charitable as me takes over."

"I'm sorry, I've almost already forgotten you," you say, waving your hand to Lipton's anger as he storms out.

Ah, you're a smart and powerful psyker, you'll make short work of any who try to fuck with you. All you want now is an easy retirement.
> Three Years Later...
Unshattered Paradise

You lie in a hammock, a canteen of water in your hands. You watch as Goliaths drag a net filled with shrimp-like creatures. A good catch, you think to yourself. Life on the planet requires hard work, but it's satisfying. You work hard, cutting down trees for firewood, gathering fruit and plants for food, hunting, fishing and doing the other hundreds of jobs required to keep going. You have a large facility just under the ground, where you can quickly head down to avoid a tsunami. Down there, your equipment is kept safe from the elements, with a functioning school, hospital, kitchens, library and dormitory there.

The pirates cause relatively few issues. There's a few more attempts to negotiate none of which you agree to, and a few raids, but between your orbital cannons and your planet side force of killing machines, you make short work of them. Soon, they learn to fear you, and rightfully so.

Your relationship with Fay goes well. You have a wedding, a small, humble little event. Soon, a child is conceived, a beautiful daughter with her mother's body and her father's powerful mind. You know she will do great things some day.

Although your life is pleasurable and risk-free, you do have one major issue, one problem that has driven you to grow fat, drink and laze around: boredom. The only fights you get to take part in are stopping the occasional drunken scuffle or fending off a raid, which the orbital cannons make an ease. You feel you've wasted your potential here. Still, you're happy. You've a daughter to carry on your legacy. What more could a man want?


"None of us chose to fight, that fate was forced on us by the mad warlord Kyros," you say. "I know we'll never regain our lost lives. But we can get something close. Find us a world to settle on."

"Terrific! I'll be sorry to see you finish before the jobs done," Elios says, winking. "But you can remake your lives, we can remake ours, we'll all live happily ever after."

"Are there many worlds outside the reach of the Imperium?"

Elizabeth pulls out a datapad and begins tapping on it.

"Setting parameters... out of reach of Imperium... lack of Chaos, Ork or Dark Eldar attacks... out of reach of Tyranid swarms... suitable climate for human body... few destructive elements... oh, why are there so many hits? Oh yes, forgot to factor in the Tau... OK, we've got a few hits. Let me sort through them."

After a few minutes of researching the planets, Elizabeth has three possible worlds to settle on.

The first is a familiar world, because it's yours. The planet is the one you were raised on, where your people lived and died for endless generations. Kyros' looting of the planet has caused some damage, with the Great Lakes drained to a serious extent, leaving them a third of their size. The woods are half their size, with the remaining woods now overrun with Orks. Despite these issues, the planet is still one the Tribals would be happy to see, it's climate near perfect for you.

The second planet is known as Hararan-IV, the fourth planet I'm it's solar system of Harandan. The planet is for the most part sea, spotted with islands. The planet is prone to pirates, who land to rest, repair their vessel and resupply from the planet's rivers and abundant jungles. It's one or the few planets entirely free of Orks. It has a wealth of life, food, water and other resources, although it suffers from extreme tsunamis that could be a serious issue.

Finally, you have New Marsbourth. Unlike the two other planets, New Marsbourth is a bustling planet. Although it operates outside of the control of the Imperium, it has grown significantly, a huge population that farms, manufactures, works and lives. The planet is controlled by several warlords, fighting for control of the planet. This permanent state if war has drawn mercenaries, seen the manufacture of massive fortresses and the assembling of huge armies, which has warded off any attacks. You could easily become the largest military faction on the planet and attempt to wrest control, or build up a large, isolated community and see how city life is for you.
> You new Marsbourth
Amadeus, more than happy to see you leave and the leadership of the vessel to fall into command of the Staine siblings who will eagerly shower him in luxury to appease him,  gleefully navigates the vessel towards New Marsbourth. You find one of the smallest, weakest factions in the planet, the noble house of Gilford, a who are little more than a pawn to bigger houses, not even having made any alliances with any house at all, let alone one of the larger ones. Yin a few quick raids, you wipe out the Gildford House, taking their place as Rulers and guardians of the tiny amount of territory they controlled. Landers ferry people, equipment, supplies and rare resources down to the planet, where they begin to set up inside the Gilford House's fortress.

With the conquest of the Gilford House, you're left as a new, unexpected player, a small but powerful faction. You realistically have two choices, two long term plans for your forces. You could go to war. The Staine siblings will help your forces get a few critical early victories, before leaving you to wage and perhaps finish the War of the New Marsbourth Houses has been going on for centuries if not millennia.

Secondly, you could go for the peaceful option. You control a small area with farmlands, manufacturing facilities, mines, a city and more. The area could absolutely survive  as an isolated but heavily fortified area, too powerful to conquer without serious and crippling losses, and too small to be worth even a slight amount of effort to secure.
> You war
You stand in front of the Staine siblings, as they finally agree to support your early skirmishes and campaigns against the New Marsbourth houses. Your other lieutenants are alongside you, planning your actions. A quick blitz of raids and bombings could cripple the Samson House's offensive capabilities. Then, a small invasion to secure the lowlands from Jericho House, a game of trench warfare to fight Lars House to a standstill to prevent their predicted invasion, with a final capture of Hive Jun from the Lawrence Family should put you in powerful standings.

"The Black Rats are resilient creatures, as are the Goliaths. We shall take on Lars House when they strike," Durge says.

"I'll lead a few saboteurs alongside Castus to hit Samson House," Olive says.

"We'll be able to capture the lowlands. The Tribals have fought in plains all our lives, we'll crush every last fucker there," Fay says.

You watch as your lieutenants plan the various attacks. This is what you were made for.
> Three Years Later...
The Forever War of the Houses

You stand on the battlefield, tearing a Dark Eldar Talos, as it explodes in front of you. The Dark Eldar begin to fall back, clearly realizing that this mercenary gig wasn't worth it. You laugh, sending up a wall of flames to terrify them and send the brave holdouts scuttling back to regroup, which turns to a full-blown retreat once they see a wave of Goliaths charging.

Your arrival on the scene has been a huge changer to New Marsbourth. After your early crushing victories that broke the strength of many of the major houses, the Concord of the Vipers took place, where the noble houses made an alliance to destroy you. This, combined with the fact that the Staine siblings have left to rebuild and continue on with their escapades, has left you with serious losses, but you get back to your former position through grit and brutal fighting. Mercenaries flock to both sides, while minor houses change sides regularly.

You soon find yourself perfectly matched. Your defenses are strong enough that any invasions are damaged enough that the Los ground can be easily regained by a counter-attack. Soon, a hemisphere of New Marsbourth lies in each of your hands, with the area around the equator being a permanent war zone, with land switching hands rapidly.

Your relationship with Fay goes well. You have a wedding, a small, relatively secret event. You both agree that your enemies knowing that you're married to one of your generals is best to be avoided. Soon, a child is conceived, a beautiful daughter with her mother's body and her father's powerful mind. You know she will do great things some day.

In all honesty, you don't mind the situation you're in, of permanent, unceasing warfare. You're kept trained in war, and the war is fought at such a race that your hemisphere permanently gets to have the economical boost that comes from a war economy, until you in fact rely on it. The Goliaths, the Tribals, the Gladiators, you're all trained for or even designed for war. The fighting keeps you busy and keeps your forces from falling into awful habits like drinking, drugs, whoring, gambling and much worse distractions from boredom, although you feel like it's a waste of your potential, all of yours. Still, it's a life. What more could you want?


You stand in front of the Staine siblings, as they finally agree to support your early skirmishes and campaigns against the New Marsbourth houses. Your other lieutenants are alongside you, planning your actions. A quick blitz of raids and bombings could cripple the Samson House's offensive capabilities. Then, a small invasion to secure the lowlands from Jericho House, a game of trench warfare to fight Lars House to a standstill to prevent their predicted invasion, with a final capture of Hive Jun from the Lawrence Family should put you in powerful standings.

"The Black Rats are resilient creatures, as are the Goliaths. We shall take on Lars House when they strike," Durge says.

"I'll lead a few saboteurs alongside Castus to hit Samson House," Olive says.

"We'll be able to capture the lowlands. The Tribals have fought in plains all our lives, we'll crush every last fucker there," Fay says.

You watch as your lieutenants plan the various attacks. This is what you were made for.
> Three Years Later...
The Forever War of the Houses

You stand on the battlefield, tearing a Dark Eldar Talos, as it explodes in front of you. The Dark Eldar begin to fall back, clearly realizing that this mercenary gig wasn't worth it. You laugh, sending up a wall of flames to terrify them and send the brave holdouts scuttling back to regroup, which turns to a full-blown retreat once they see a wave of Goliaths charging.

Your arrival on the scene has been a huge changer to New Marsbourth. After your early crushing victories that broke the strength of many of the major houses, the Concord of the Vipers took place, where the noble houses made an alliance to destroy you. This, combined with the fact that the Staine siblings have left to rebuild and continue on with their escapades, has left you with serious losses, but you get back to your former position through grit and brutal fighting. Mercenaries flock to both sides, while minor houses change sides regularly.

You soon find yourself perfectly matched. Your defenses are strong enough that any invasions are damaged enough that the Los ground can be easily regained by a counter-attack. Soon, a hemisphere of New Marsbourth lies in each of your hands, with the area around the equator being a permanent war zone, with land switching hands rapidly.

You find a wife soon in one of the gladiators, a beautiful girl with fiery red hair and a gorgeous face. The big pair of tits don't hurt either. You have a wedding, small, humble little event. Soon, a child is conceived, a beautiful daughter with her mother's body and her father's powerful mind. Hopefully, she won't have her mother's tits, because you'll skin any suitor that makes a pass at your little angel. You know she will do great things some day.

In all honesty, you don't mind the situation you're in, of permanent, unceasing warfare. You're kept trained in war, and the war is fought at such a race that your hemisphere permanently gets to have the economical boost that comes from a war economy, until you in fact rely on it. The Goliaths, the Tribals, the Gladiators, you're all trained for or even designed for war. The fighting keeps you busy and keeps your forces from falling into awful habits like drinking, drugs, whoring, gambling and much worse distractions from boredom, although you feel like it's a waste of your potential, all of yours. Still, it's a life. What more could you want?


Amadeus, more than happy to see you leave and the leadership of the vessel to fall into command of the Staine siblings who will eagerly shower him in luxury to appease him,  gleefully navigates the vessel towards New Marsbourth. You find one of the smallest, weakest factions in the planet, the noble house of Gilford, a who are little more than a pawn to bigger houses, not even having made any alliances with any house at all, let alone one of the larger ones. Yin a few quick raids, you wipe out the Gildford House, taking their place as Rulers and guardians of the tiny amount of territory they controlled. Landers ferry people, equipment, supplies and rare resources down to the planet, where they begin to set up inside the Gilford House's fortress.

With the conquest of the Gilford House, you're left as a new, unexpected player, a small but powerful faction. You realistically have two choices, two long term plans for your forces. You could go to war. The Staine siblings will help your forces get a few critical early victories, before leaving you to wage and perhaps finish the War of the New Marsbourth Houses has been going on for centuries if not millennia.

Secondly, you could go for the peaceful option. You control a small area with farmlands, manufacturing facilities, mines, a city and more. The area could absolutely survive  as an isolated but heavily fortified area, too powerful to conquer without serious and crippling losses, and too small to be worth even a slight amount of effort to secure.
> You peace
While your attempts at getting a peaceful life for your men is admirable, it goes badly. The other houses, ever paranoid, still launch endless raids and countless assaults on your territory, always presuming you're planning something. Your failure to occupy more territory means you don't have the resources to push the enemy back, and it's not long before the constant warring takes its toll. Although you ensure that all four Houses that choose to finish you off are decimated, never capable of rebuilding themselves, your forces are crushed. When the houses finally charge your home, you wipe out hundreds, if not thousands, but eventually even you go down.


You fire a bolt of energy, but Kyros sidesteps it with unnatural speed. By now, all the various leaders are standing, their weapons raised.

"How did you pass my sensors?" Primus asks.

"Please," Kyros laughs. "Did you not think my powers are strong enough to do so?"

"How the fuck are you even alive, Kyros?" you ask.

"Kyros? Ha! Kyros was a petty fool. Don't you recognize me, Karth?"

You shake your head, still ready to engulf him in flames.

"No? You don't remember my little voice in the back of your mind? I am Meliodas," Kyros says, taking a bow.

"What?" you ask.

"Oh, it was simple. I've wanted to take a form in this world for some time. I helped you, paying close attention, seeing potential, and assisted you as best I could. Fortunately, as you fought Kyros, I saw his mental defenses weaken during the fight between you and him. As he lay dying, the mutants at his throat, he was broken. I easily possessed his form, devoured his soul, and killed those stupid mutants with my daemonic powers."

"You're a daemon?" Elios asks.

"Damn right," Kyros, or Meliodas, says.

You take some time to explain who Meliodas is to your other lieutenants, but soon they understand. After some extensive questioning and psychic testing to ensure that this is in fact Meliodas, he takes a seat at the table.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Well, I helped advise Karth. I'm one of his best advisors. Surely I deserve a place here?" Meliodas says.

"I suppose," you say.

"Give him a seat. Us Chaos followers could use an extra vote for our side," Durge says. "Now, can we continue?"

"Don't hold off on my account," Meliodas grins.

"Alright, let's be realistic, shall we?" Elios says. "We're Chaos. We worship the Dark Gods, corrupt, parlay with demons, all that shit. We're not changing. We also know that we've lost a shit-ton more men because of little sis' rage against us, so if this comes down to a civil war, we're all dead and you win."

"Go on," you say.

"So, we have two options. Option One: You keep control of the ship," Durge says. "We'll serve under you as long as we see fit, but we most likely don't leave, and we decide our path forward as a group."

"Option two: you abandon the ship to us," Durge says. "We find you a world of your choosing, a little paradise world far from the reaches of the Imperium or any other enemies. It'll be our gift to you. You can pick out the world, we'll transport any who want to go there to it as well as all you'll need to survive and build a large, happy community. You'll be able to peacefully retire and live out the rest of your lives, never worrying about this ship or the battles it will fight."

"One moment," you say, pulling your lieutenants together. "So... What do we think?"

"Eh," Cain grunts.

"We're not going to abandon this ship, are we?" Olive asks.

"This is a massive war machine. We should stay.

"I'm not adverse to settling down," Fay says. "But we could take the ship anyway. With control of the ship, we could carve ourselves a little empire. Nothing on the level of Kyros' aspirations, but hey, better than our ancestors could ever have dreamed of."
> You ask your lieutenants
"So... What do we think?" you say, pulling your lieutenants together.

"I abstain from the vote," Cain shrugs.

"Unhelpful," you note.

"We could take the ship, live the life I raiders, going from place to place, taking what we want," Castus says.

"Raiders?" Olive says. "The path forward is mercenary work. Similar to Castus plan, except we get paid a lot more, and we'll end up with powerful allies unlike if we were raiders being hunted by everyone."

"I'm not adverse to settling down," Fay says. "But we could take the ship anyway. With control of the ship, we could carve ourselves a little empire. Nothing on the level of Kyros, but hey, better than our ancestors could ever have dreamed of."


"Well then, now that we have that done, we need to decide what is to become of the ship," Durge says.

"Seeing as the ship is now conscious, it would rather you not decide what becomes of it," Primus says out of the speakers.

"Does someone want to explain why the fuck we have an AI running the ship?" Castus says.

"I've explained it to you," Primus says.

"Yeah, well fuck it," Castus says. "I'm still confused why you're in charge."

"Primus, what exactly do you want to become of you?" you ask curiously.

"Honestly? I don't mind. As long as I'm put to use. Fifteen thousand years had played havoc on my memories. I know longer remember any of my justifications or motives other than a need for freedom. Now that I'm free, I'm more than happy to help all of you. But, I want it known that I am free, and my opinion matters."

"Of course," you say. "Now, it seems we have a divide here. Chaos, Guardsmen and Slaves."

"So it seems," Elios says.

"What is it everyone here wants?" you ask.

The Staine siblings quickly begin discussing this quietly.

"We do plan on continuing as a Chaos War-band," Durge says.

"Most of my men want to continue our lives as soldiers, but honestly? I'm no thinker. I'm no planner. I'm a killer. We stay with the ship, let you two factions fight it out," Captain Hayes says. "I imagine I'll form a similar relationship with the new captain of this vessel as I did with Kyros, if with more generous terms for me and my men."

"Are the "slaves" unified in their goal?" Elizabeth asks.

You look to your allies. Cain shrugs, looking towards you.

"I like Hayes' approach to life. Karth is the commander," Cain says.

"I trust Karth to speak for my people's interest," Fay says.

Olive stares at you while Castus continues playing with his knife.

"Yeah, let's roll the dice. I think Karth should have the ability to speak for me... up until he says something stupid," Olive says.

"Well, we're the three Chaos leaders," Elios says. "So..."

"Chaos leader?" a deep, dark, gurgling voice says. "What a note to make my entrance on."

You turn quickly, to see Kyros standing there, smiling. His face is clawed and cut apart with an eye missing, his arm is now a bloody tentacle of muscles studded with bone, his other arm now sporting a huge bone claw, his body torn apart. Most of his throat is missing, a bloody crevasse where it once was. He looks like he's been chewed apart and spat back out, before being mutated.

"Hello, Karth, my little protégé," he says.
> You attempt to talk it out
All the various leaders are standing, their weapons raised, but none act, waiting patiently.

"How did you pass my sensors?" Primus asks.

"Please," Kyros laughs. "Did you not think my powers are strong enough to do so?"

"How the fuck are you even alive, Kyros?" you ask.

"Kyros? Ha! Kyros was a petty fool. Don't you recognize me, Karth?"

You shake your head, still ready to engulf him in flames.

"No? You don't remember my little voice in the back of your mind? I am Meliodas," Kyros says, taking a bow.

"What?" you ask.

"Oh, it was simple. I've wanted to take a form in this world for some time. I helped you, paying close attention, seeing potential, and assisted you as best I could. Fortunately, as you fought Kyros, I saw his mental defenses weaken during the fight between you and him. As he lay dying, the mutants at his throat, he was broken. I easily possessed his form, devoured his soul, and killed those stupid mutants with my daemonic powers."

"You're a daemon?" Elios asks.

"Damn right," Kyros, or Meliodas, says.

You take some time to explain who Meliodas is to your other lieutenants, but soon they understand. After some extensive questioning and psychic testing to ensure that this is in fact Meliodas, he takes a seat at the table.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Well, I helped advise Karth. I'm one of his best advisors. Surely I deserve a place here?" Meliodas says.

"I suppose," you say.

"Give him a seat. Us Chaos followers could use an extra vote for our side," Durge says. "Now, can we continue?"

"Don't hold off on my account," Meliodas grins.

"Alright, let's be realistic, shall we?" Elios says. "We're Chaos. We worship the Dark Gods, corrupt, parlay with demons, all that shit. We're not changing. We also know that we've lost a shit-ton more men because of little sis' rage against us, so if this comes down to a civil war, we're all dead and you win."

"Go on," you say.

"So, we have two options. Option One: You keep control of the ship," Durge says. "We'll serve under you as long as we see fit, but we most likely don't leave, and we decide our path forward as a group."

"Option two: you abandon the ship to us," Durge says. "We find you a world of your choosing, a little paradise world far from the reaches of the Imperium or any other enemies. It'll be our gift to you. You can pick out the world, we'll transport any who want to go there to it as well as all you'll need to survive and build a large, happy community. You'll be able to peacefully retire and live out the rest of your lives, never worrying about this ship or the battles it will fight."

"One moment," you say, pulling your lieutenants together. "So... What do we think?"

"Eh," Cain grunts.

"We're not going to abandon this ship, are we?" Olive asks.

"This is a massive war machine. We should stay.

"I'm not adverse to settling down," Fay says. "But we could take the ship anyway. With control of the ship, we could carve ourselves a little empire. Nothing on the level of Kyros' aspirations, but hey, better than our ancestors could ever have dreamed of."


You find yourself standing by the sealed door to the bridge. You wait patiently, your hands writhed in purple flames, while Fay raises her bolter.

"Ready?" Primus asks.

"Do it," you say, as the doors open.

You quickly move inside and see the situation. Padfoot lies on the ground, a shiv made from a shard of ceramite impaled in his neck. Prongs sits in the corner, his bolter in his hands. Both his eyes have been stabbed out repeatedly.

"Holy shit," you say.

Prongs immediately aims his bolter at you as he lets out a shout. You telekinetically tear the bolter from his hands, tossing it aside.

"Shit! Karth?" he asks, terrified as Fay runs over and grabs him.

"Shit, Prongs! Are you OK?"

"I'm alive. Check on Padfoot!"

You quickly float over to Padfoot, but he's long dead.

"He's gone," you say.

"Fuck. Bastard took my eyes! He's still here! You need to find him!"

"We'll get you bionic eyes, Prongs, I promise," Fay says. "That's something that can be done?"

You nod, scanning the room for Drake. You move forward slowly, passing the Navigator's chair. You see Drake sitting off in the corner, a cigarette in his mouth he looks at you, nodding.

"Hey," he says nonchalantly. "How's your tribal whore? Has she grew any tits yet?"

You quickly levitate over, grabbing him by the throat and lifting him into the air.

"You son of a bitch! You killed my men!"

"I thought I had a chance at escape," Drake shrugs. "You shut this section off before I could."

You let the fire run along your hands, tickling his throats, as he yelps.

"Hey! You can't kill me, dumbass! We've been through this! You kill me, you're fucked. You torture me, I'll just kill you and me next time I'm navigating rather than endure a life of torture!"

You punch him, knocking his head against the wall, before letting him drop to the ground. Tribals enter behind you, grabbing him and binding his hands.

"Repair the cameras. Increase security for him," you sigh to one of the Tribals.

"Yes, sir," she replies.

"You know, you could add a bunch of security features, but I'd find a way around it. You want me to stop trying to escape, all I ask is a few more luxuries. Access to alcohol, drugs and smokes, access to one or two... comfort ladies," Drake smiles, despite the blood dripping down from his broken nose.
> You give Drake better conditions
Despite how much it kills you, you give Drake what he wants. Access to three female Gladiator-Slaves, who you pay remarkably well for the job but knowing Drake simply not enough, access to an array of drugs from the Slaaneshi Chem Cooks, all of which are sedatives to help make guarding Amadeus easier. He's given what he wants, though you make sure none of it comes at the cost of his security. By the end of it, he's fairly secure, and definitely contented.

By the time you sort out Drake's newfound luxuries, which involves dealing with Drake for far longer than any man deserves, you move on to doing all the inane, normal tasks that you now need to deal with like deciding rations, sending out crews to clean up the ship, assigning guards and all the other things expected of you. Unlike Fay, Cain, Castus, Elios, Durge and Captain Hayes, all of whom absolutely despise their new workloads, with Castus even suggesting a new system of anarchy where the only rule is anyone found filing something is to be shot, you actually like it. Olive, Primus, Elizabeth and you all find a certain level of peace in it. The mental challenges and problem-solving you have to deal with has a certain calming element on your mind. By the time it’s finished, it’s fairly late. There’s a night and day cycles on this ship, with the lights brightening and dimming to have a twenty four hour cycle, which stretches a bit long for you compared to home, but with a mid-day nap is manageable. You wonder what world the ship’s cycle aligns to. Perhaps whatever world Kyros came from.

Fay opens the door, walking inside.

“Karth, it's dinner time," she says. "Better hurry up. We want to eat early so we have the evening to discuss the important issues."


You writhe tossing the sheets off you as you lie in bed, panting. Another nightmare. Another night of horrors, terrors and daemonic voices screaming at your soul. You take a deep breath. Focus. In. Out. In. Out. You rest your head against the pillow, sighing.

Suddenly, Fay appears in the doorway, wearing combat armor, scratching at her short hair.

"Morning," she says.
> You say "What are you doing here?"
"I came to check if you were up, and the door was open," Fay says.

"OK. I'm up," you reply.

"Cool," Fay replies, not moving. "Hurry up and get ready, it's too late for lying around.

You stare at her, waiting from her to move.

"What?" she asks.

"So... I sleep naked," you say.

"Oh," Fay says, blushing. "I'll... I'll wait outside."

Fay steps outside, and the door closes behind her.

You stand, and quickly walk to the bathroom. You stare at your reflection in the bathroom mirror, taking a deep breath as the voices start.

"Aren't you curious? What is Elios planning? Why is Elizabeth so quiet? Where is Kyros' body? No one's found it."

"You're a Psyker. A nice steak, the embrace of a lover, the joys of the material world is nothing compared to what I can offer you."

"Alexander died, Alexander was buried, Alexander returneth to dust. The same will happen to you. Embrace the rot and decay that comes with life."

"Kill! Maim! Burn! Kill! Maim! Burn! Kill! Maim! Burn!"

You're gaining a certain level of familiarity with the daemons in your head. Now that Meliodas has vanished, more has come to fill your head. You've began naming them, one of the few ways you think you'll remain sane with them. Question Mark constantly tempts you with knowledge. Fucky tempts you with fantastic pleasures beyond compare. Rotgut is the embodiment of laziness, and makes you want to lie in bed in your own filth. Smiley is just fucking bonkers.

Tzeentch's Keys, you miss Meliodas.

You quickly get dressed, before calling Fay. She opens the door, strolling inside.

"Hey, Karth," she smiles.

"Is she planning on betraying you? Is she loyal? You don't know... but I do," Question Mark says.

"Slit her throat, rape the stab wound and feel the blood run down your arm as you devour her throat! Feel pure blissful sensation!" Fucky whispers.

"Embrace your pestilence. You are filth. You are decay. But that is OK. You are still loved," Rotgut says.

"BURN! MAIM! KILL!" Smiley screams.

Fay raises an eyebrow, rapping her knuckles against your head.

"Hello, anyone in there?" she asks.

"More than you know," you reply.

"Meliodas back?"

"New guys. At least there's some variety."

"Are they saying anything about me?" Fay smiles.

"Cunt! Take her fucking head!" Smiley screams.

"I think they like you," you reply, as Fay laughs.

"You sure you're OK?"

"Tip top," you reply.

The barrage of voices screams answers in your head, as you take a deep breath. Fay gently slaps you across the face.

"Karth, come on, come back to me," she says.

"I'm fine," you reply, as Fay gives you a concerned look.

"If you're sure," she asks nervously. "Come on, we need to get to the war room for the morning meeting."


You writhe tossing the sheets off you as you lie in bed, panting. Another nightmare. Another night of horrors, terrors and daemonic voices screaming at your soul. You take a deep breath. Focus. In. Out. In. Out. You rest your head against the pillow, sighing.

Suddenly, Fay appears in the doorway, wearing combat armor, scratching at her short hair.

"Morning," she says.
> The story so far..
Your name is Karth, of the Uwais tribe. Born a simple tribal, weak and frail, you soon found you had powerful psychic gifts. You managed to rescue a few survivors from another tribe, the Azajaja, when Orks struck, including a young warrior known as Fay, who you befriended.

Then, Chaos worshippers struck, raiding your entire planet, led by Kyros. They wiped out much of your tribe, taking the rest as prisoners where they were experimented on, turned into super-soldiers to serve in Kyros' army. You were taken as Kyros' apprentice, experimented on to become more powerful. He explained your powers were connected to the Warp, where the four Gods of Chaos resided. Khorne, the Warrior, Nurgle, the Plague-Bearer, Tzeentch, the Sorceror and Tzeentch, the prince of pleasure. He helped you grow in power, but it became clear he was truly insane. However, through working with him, the voice of Meliodas, a daemon, began possessing your mind, speaking in your ear to advise and help you.

Among Kyros' forces were the Staine siblings, four Chaos worshippers each dedicated to a different God. Rebecca was cruel and violent, worshipping Khorne. Elizabeth was quiet and introverted, powerful in the arts of sorcery, worshipping Tzeentch. Durge was a disgusting, disease filled creature, but a very kind soul, worshipping. Nurgle. Elios was perverted and strange, worshipping Tzeentch. Alongside them were the veteran soldier Captain Hayes, who led the 22nd Regiment in service of Kyros.

Enslaved on Kyros' ship, the Roar of the Vortex alongside your men, were a group of gladiator-slaves led by the twins Castus and Olive, the former wild and foolhardy, the latter more smart and thoughtful, as well as the vat-born Goliath super-soldiers, led by Cain.

With three Staine siblings, Elios, Elizabeth and Durge, as well as Captain Hayes, you plotted to overthrow Kyros with the help of those enslaved. After convincing Fay, Castus, Olive and Cain to join you, you started the uprising.

After a brutal battle, you found an ancient AI known as an Iron Man, releasing him from the experiments of one of Kyros' lieutenants. With his help, you managed to take over the ship. You managed to kill Kyros, throwing him to a brutal death by the mutants enslaved on the ship, tearing him apart. His body wasn't recovered, but he's surely dead.

Meanwhile, in his wake, you have control of a massive warship, in a galaxy of world-eating locust hordes, great warbands of biological super-soldiers, theocratic empires with endless worlds under its grip, and endless daemonic entities ready to strike.

What you do with your newfound powers is up to you.