Inquisitorial Penal Regiment Veeky Forums: Dinner and a Show Edition

Please everyone, have a seat! Dinner will be out in but a moment. In the mean time, talk amongst yourselves, and be prepared for one of the most delicious meals you've ever eaten!

I only hope that none of you are allergic to Berviua eggs covered in Mioalin sauce! It's to DIE for!
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1d4Chan: 1d4chan.org/wiki/Campaign:Penal_regiment_designation_Veeky Forums

Steam Group: steamcommunity.com/groups/40k_penal_regiment.

FAQ:
>What the fuck is this?
Somewhat a campaign of crack-infused free-form roleplay in the grim darkness of the far future.

>When do you guys make these threads?
Usually mondays at 4PM GMT, but they sometimes extend to Tuesdays if we got caught in the middle of something when the thread died and it was too late to make another one the same day.

>Can I join in?
Sure, just think of a character and have fun, you can find most info in 1d4chan albeit it's ussually a little bit out of date in comparison to where the threads are.

>Is there any requirement in character creation.
Not really, we've had Xeno infiltrators, Chaos infiltrators, Villains, Heroes, Normal Guardsmen, Crazed Guardsmen, Assassins, Psykers, Space Marines, Inquisitors, Squats... just think whathever and join the fun.

>Is it allowed to have more than a single character?
Yes as long as you don't use it to powerplay.

>So how you guys do the playan'?
We tend to use spoilers for OOC chat, but nothing is set in stone.
We tend to use greentexts for describing a character's actions, but again nothing is set in stone.
Use d20s for combat checks and d100s for other things you want to roll, higher Is better.
It's important to know that the regiment is now in the employ of a radical Ordo Xenos Inquisitor, with influence from an Ordo Malleus Inquisitor and under the watch of an Ordo Hereticus Inquisitor. Yes we've been through a lot of shit.

>stands in the hallway, dressed in his given attire and a bit lost on directions

if only we'd had you covered in gold plating.... maybe then you wouldn't be so horrifying...

>Ron sits uncomfortably in his fancy clothes. He barely had enough time to send his confirmation to Alan, and the fact that he was suddenly being recalled to Praetoria wasn't a pleasant one

What's the matter my good man? Is something here not to your liking? Is it the Amasac? I bet it is!
>He'd frown.

I told Nigel to bring out the 27 Calibra. But he said "it wouldn't go well with the meal!"
>He'd do a mock impression as he says this.
And while it is rather good, it's just not "27 Calibra" good!

>Sternbridge makes his way to the room and finds his seat

>Eventualy finds his way to the banquet hall and takes his seat

>Ron sips from his glass. Alcohol just doesn't taste as good if you know you aren't going to get drunk. But, for the sake of his host...
It tastes great. Best amasec I've had in a long time.

>The Herald holds position near the Maelstrom, waiting for any news of the regiment´s movements

>There would appear to be a seat next to Marth, that has been reserved via a rather obvious note, with the name "Sternbridge" on it.

>looks at the fancy silverware and thinks about that pilot woman

>He's place his chin upon his folded up hands. A pleasant smile on his face, upon hearing this.

Then I'm pleased to hear it! If something was off with this meal, I'd have been very upset! After all, it's not very often that a man gets to have dinner with the esteemed Admiral Caffran Sternbridge!

>There would be a series of slightly less Exquisite tables for those not of officer rank to be seated at.

>The growl continues, mixed with shrieks of pain and despair

>Makes her way to the room the dinner is at.
>It feels weird go use a dress.
My father'd kill me if he'd see me like this.

Excuse me, i need to go to the bathroom.

>Gets up and investigates the sound

>He'd raise his brow questioningly as the two make their way towards the head table.

And whys that? I'd think he'd be proud that you were dining with a Rogue Trader.

>He walks into a disfigured form, his hands holding onto his head, screaming his lungs out
>He notices Peepers
"My...M-MASK"
>95's mask lies on the floor

>Marth would be in no way able to hear the man. Being several tables away in a room filled with several hundred people.

Yeah, I am not so sure
He called me Victor and always wanted me to have short hair and give firm handshakes you see?

He even enrolled me into the PDF before I got my way out and into the navym

>Ron nods his head
Yeah, not an everyday occurrence.
>under his breath
Every other day, maybe...

That's rude, you get dressed and go to dinner
>kicks him his mask and goes back to dinner

>takes a seat next to her

>His chin still placed upon his folded up hands. The rogue trader would turn his head, ever so slightly in your direction.

Hmm? Is something the matter? Because if there is, I'll have it corrected immediately!

>He'd give a gentle cough as the cyborg takes a seat at the wrong table.

>Ron shakes his head and puts on a fake smile
Nope, everything is great. Just a little worries about an Inquisition thing.

Hello Peepers, enjoying the meal?

>Peepers would be in no way able to hear the man. Being several tables away in a room filled with several hundred people.

I am sure i will be in a moment, i hope the visions ceased, yes?
>starts eating

"P-PLEASE"
>he falls on his knees
>Ghazbah comes
"Komm on boss, lrzz get reddy fer' dinner"

Indeed, the crew was very attentive, thank you for your assistance on the matter

Alll...mooost...theeere

>Wearing the vest

I despise chaos with every fiber of my being, it may attempt to influence even me, but the stronger faith prevails, as long as you believe in yourself, the chains of chaos can never touch you

What do you do when they dl though?

>Oddball and five other Tankers reluctantly stalk into the hall, and, despite Oddball's usually scruffy state being an indicator of the Crew's appearance, each person and their dress uniforms are immaculate.
>The group consists of the following:
>Oddball himself, who even groomed his beard.
>A man identified by his uniform as a Bushman.
>A Felinid in a Mordian uniform, sans hat.
>Another man in a uniform that is vaguely similar to the Serican's.
>A Steel Legionary who seems to be glaring at the fourth man.
>And finally, a woman who looks like she could kill anyone in the room. Her uniform appears Valhallan.

>They seat themselves at a table and behave......much more politely than one might suspect.

>smiles
Fight them will all your power

>Sternbridge takes notice but says nothing
So, Marth. What has the Wyvern dynasty been up to lately?

Oh cockaloka ding dong, sorry[spoiler/]
>95 enters the room
>Golden/Black cloak
>A skull encrossed in roses on his chest
>A golden skull mask
"Is...there a place...for...a lowly servant...of the Inquisiton?"

Ah, yes, I see.
>He'd smile pleasantly at him, before noticing several men carrying out large trays of food to each table.

Ah! The first course is finally ready! Apperire soup mixed with a light red wine! With just a hint of Bastori mixed in!

>He'd turn his head to the sever.

Tell Martyiér that the meal is once again an extravagant masterpeice!

fuck you too spoiler

Oh... Ok that makes sense... If you excuse me I have a group of persons to thank...

>She walks to the group with a smile on her face and a plate with grox meat as requested on the note.

>nods and coninues enjoying his meal

>Ron looks warily at the meal in front of him, and then at Marth
Definitely extravagant. That is the exact word I would use.
>he starts eating, still looking at Wyvern

>It's the Felinid that waves her over, while awkwardly trying to place the hat it turns out she -did- have between her ears, and failing.
>"'Ey, how's the vest working out for you?"

Rolled 91 (1d100)

>Notices the felinid and starts calculating if that counts as a mutant or not

Oh, hi! Uhm... very well thank you. I do believe you requested this?
>She'd tilt her head towards the plate she's holding.
Thank you a lot, really. Where did you get it from? It is very useful.

>is sat next to Ron, drinking a little bit too much wine.

>A couple of the Tankers notice the stareOr glance, or glance, or what have you, you pick whatever seems appropriate and glare right back.
>Particularly, the Serican and the Murderwoman.

>"My previous.....'owner' complained of 'voices' and had it commissioned to stop them, or so I gathered. But he got killed round about the time I joined up with this lot so he didn't need it."

>Oddball chimes in at this point.
That was about the time we liberated that planet that got us all that cheese and wine. Got ourselves a scarily competent Hull Gunner out of it too.

>Ron is not enjoying himself, but smiles a bit when he sees Claire taking advantage of the Trader's extensive array of beverages
This is only the first course, lady. Slow down, would ya?

Well, up until recently, I was with the Imperial Navy. Father having wanted me to learn the trade before I inherited our Warrant of Trade. Before that...

>He'd think for a moment, before continuing.

We've been managing our holdings, as well as fighting alongside various Imperial regiment. You see...
>He'd press his chin into his folded up hands. A stern look upon his face, for the first time since you all came aboard the ship.

There's another reason that I invited you all for dinner, other than wanting to meet my personal hero... And I felt it would be better for your entire regiment to hear it straight from the source...

>Walks up to the group and takes the hat off the felinid
What is the meaning of this?

>stops drinking to look at Ron and grins
I'm going to need this to get through tonight, shame you have to live through it sober.

"Excuse me sir...but i have a more...personal question"
>His metal mask gleams

What do you mean?

Oh I s-
Peepers! Is this the first Felinid you ever see or what?!
>She brings out the water spray bottle.

>Ron laughs
It's better I try and get us where we need to go with a clear head anyways. Even if it means suffering through all this rich-guy shit.
>Ron takes a sip of his drink, and says while looking over the rim of his glass
The company isn't too bad, though.

>The group of six set aside their discussions to focus their attention fully on Peepers.
Sergeant to Sergeant......I think you should give my Corporal her hat back.
You're causing a disturbance, and Captain Wyvern wouldn't like that.

I have no knowledge of a "Felinid" all i see is a mutant attempting to hide it's defects

So i ask again, what is the meaning of this?

>looks at all of them while holding the hat in his hand

the company is just fine, as long as we keep the drop trooper away from his guitar.
>she would let out a snort of laughter.

Felinids are an abhuman race, much like ogryns, squats and ratlings, who often serve on the Imperial Guard.

...albeit you almost never find squats these days...

>Ron shakes his head and smiles
How much have you had, anyways? They can't have given you more than two glasses, can they?

>Takes a moment to determine the truth of that statemment
>dusts off the hat and returns it to it's owner

>Salutes
I apologise for the disturbance, carry on, soldier. The emperor protects

>goes back to his seat

>she would hold up two fingers before giggling and holding up two more.
I've had only a little bit.

Well sorry for that, Peepers is always vigilant for the corruption of chaos, you might be the first Felinid he encountered.

...

You're ok right?

>He'd let out a small sigh, before sitting up.

As you may know, a Rogue Traders, Warrant of Trade allows its bearer many freedoms that most other people within the greater Imperium lack. Freedoms such as the allowance of Xeno tech, the decision of weither or not to destroy an entire planet filled with Xenos, or to be more friendly with them. It's a rather long list and boring list, that equates to granting it's bearer a status equivalent to that of a space marine chapter master, planetary Governor, or even... an Inquisitor...

>He'd stop for a moment, allowing himself to take a bit of the meal Infront of him, before wiping his mouth and hands clean with a silk napkin.

Unfortunately, what many in the Imperium seem to forget, is that these Warrants of Trade, often come with additional... shall we say, "requirements"? These requirements often include, but are not limited to: visiting a remote world once every few years, or so. Keeping a sector of space free of Xenos, and other such necessities to keep the Imperium running smoothly.

Mine however, is a little bit different...
>He'd then snap his fingers, loudly enough for it to echo throughout the banquet hall.

>Touches him on the shoulder.
"Would you hear me out for a moment?"

>glances at her as he sits down and shakes his head before continuing the meal

Yes, you have my attention

>Turns head to face the event

>groans exaggeratedly, smiling at her
Throne, are you a wino or something? Am I going to have to carry you back to the room and hold your hair while you regret this or something?

>The Felinid accepts the hat with a subdued grumble and sets it at the base of her chair before sighing.
>"I'm.....used to it. That's as close as I get to okay in 'these' kinds of situations. Still...nice to now someone else cares."
>"Even if I should go back to the Hammer' before someone tries to lynch the six of you..."

>The group look towards the Trader.

Hey nonsense, enjoy the meal, the situation was dealt with.

Name's Victoria by the way but friends call me Vic.

"Ah good... i was wondering...if you'd like...a mask...as a friedly...gift?"
>there is is only sincerity in his voice

>an overly exaggerated look of shock on her face, she would stick out her tongue and pat his leg
I'm fine, just a little tipsy is all.
ooooh it's starting!
>she would turn in her seat to see what's going on.

No thank you, i must have the enemy look into my true eyes when i strike upon them

>turns his head to litsen

"What is...oh...by the emperor..."

>Two servers would quickly clean off a section of the table, before heading back to the kitchen.
>A moment later, several guards would enter into the room from a different entrance. In their hands is a large metal case, which is then placed on the table before Marth.
>Pressing his thumb against where the lock should be, a voice would be heard.
>"Genetic identity confirmed. Opening case."
>The case would then open up, revealing it's contents to the world.
>With delicate hands, Marth would pull forth the most valued possession of any Rogue Trader; his family's Warrant of Trade.
>He would lay it gently upon the magnificent feasting table before him. Taking a moment to carefully open it up.
>As he does so, several guards would close in around the table. Willing to kill anyone who gets to close, or moves to suddenly.

This Admiral.... is my family's Warrant of Trade. The single most valued possession my family owns. It has been passed down through several generations of Wyverns. And until just recently, it belonged to my father...

>He would cast a Stern look towards the Admiral, as well as towards the other regimental commanders.

And the requirements for me to continue to possess it... is that I lend both myself, and all the resources of my house... to the Imperium and her people...

>chokes on his food and coughs into his fist while saying
This had better not be another fucking orgy.

>observes with his mechanical eye but most of his attention is on the meal

>"Anya Laski, but I apparently earned the nickname 'Cat', for....obvious reasons...."

She's......not usually that hostile about it, but....then things like this sometimes happen.
Should stick your head in the tank sometime.
We -may- have bought a high quality viewscreen along with the Tank. And you're one of the good ones so.....
>All six of them nod.

oh it's just some paper...
>she turns to her empty glass and sighs.
I wanna go home.

"What a...noble...deed...you do...your family...honor...the inquisition would....approve...of your commitment"

O-oh thank you all.

Pardon my invasive curiosity but what may be the names of the rest of the men under your command?

Also, Anya, that is a beautiful name.

But more apecifically, Admiral... is that it requires that I devote much of my family's resources towards one specific branch of the Imperium.

Weither it be a specific chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, the Ecclesiarchy, a specific Imperial guard regiment, or even...
>He would flash both Ron and the Admiral a smile.

...A Penal Regiment under the command of the Inquistion...

>with his apetite sated he spins to face the drama and observes

>glaces at Claire to see if she is still concious

Wow.

>"Vic sounds better......"

Well, you know me, I'm Oddball, the Commander, and you know Anya, the right Hull Gunner. Then we have....
>He points at the Steel Legionary.
Manfred Oppenheimer, Gunner....however he took a little bump on the head and insists that we call him 'Erwin Rommel'.....
>He then points at the one dressed similarly to the Serican.
Matthew Churchill, Vox Operator and occasional Mechanic, apparently his surname annoys 'Erwin' for some reason......something about a War and a Tank?
>He points to the Serican now.
Steve Irwin, left Hull Gunner, back when he was a rifleman, some Tau in a Stingray tried to wipe him out, but after hours of intense combat, the Stingray detonated.
>He finally points to the Valhallan.
And finally....Vena....Putin wasn't it?
>The Valhallan nods.
Our driver. She just tends to kill the enemy in disturbing numbers if removed from her tank.

>she is though she looks as if she's going to fall asleep before the next course.
>perks up.
does this mean he's coming with us?

"This....has a 23% chance...of ending...in blood"

>Gets up from his seat and walks up to her

Sister, how are you feeling?
You don't look very well.

>gazbah appears from out of nowhere
"You'z drive a tank?"

tssk I'm fiiiine.
>waves Peepers away
just a little sleepy is all.

It seems you had enough for the day, let me help you get back to your room before you pass out

>Stops chewing to Look out behind from the cooked leg of an avian
>The leg is longer then his forearm
>He swallows the piece in his mouth before he starts to speak

"If I may inquire, and more importantly be so blunt; why the frag? Our regiment is anything, but profitable"

>She smiles
You all sound like a lovable bunch.
Pleased to meet you all.
>Bows respectfully.

>swats him away.
I said I'm fine Peepers, thank you but I can handle myself.
>she's being polite but blunt.

>Ron glares at Peepers

>Ron furrows his brow

Uhm... You have pieces of meat over your moustache mate.
>Offers a napkin

>sighs

Laroque, please look after her

>returns to his seat

>Takes the napkin
"Oh thank you, it's not fortunate to have natural grease on one's mustache. Catches flames way too easily"

"May I?"
>He looks at the empty chair next to him

You're welcome. I too wonder why would je pick this regiment and not Sternbridge's fleet.

>He'd smile at the man.

Because, my dear man. The Imperium requires it of me... but more specifically. It is because one of your commanders is the esteemed Admiral Caffran Sternbridge!

Is something the matter my dear man?