From the Journal of H. Tiberius Holocene

Matt, our Rogue Trader player was kind enough to contribute to the blog once more. This time with words from the dynasty's former Rogue Trader....

This letter, penned by my uncle, was given to me three days before his death at the hands of Ork raiders. I still wonder if he knew or sensed something, a preternatural awareness of his impending death that caused him to officially, albeit secretly, hand over the Holocene Warrant of Trade before his demise. The original copy of this letter, hand written on parchment instead of coded into a dataslate, rests with the Warrant. I transposed it here for… well, for rather obvious reasons.

Tiberius,

Let me begin with pride. The man you have become certainly instills within me that emotion. My sister, your mother too would be proud, were she here to see you. As much as my arrogance would enjoy taking credit for your upbringing, I must admit that you certainly are your own man. This is good in our kind; you will be often required to make difficult decisions, and while advice and wisdom will help, in the end never forget that you are the imperator of this dynasty, which brings me to the reason for this letter.

Our once great house has fallen nearly into oblivion. It is up to you to ensure its survival. In some ways I envy you; you will begin the greatest adventure that any in our dynasty has ever attempted, save perhaps Hester Nathaniel himself. At the same time, even for the same reason, you will also face the greatest challenges.

I will not tell you to be careful or safe. I pray you understand the weight, the importance of your position; not just as a Rogue Trader or as the Archon of House Holocene, but as the terminal hope that keeps our name from extinction. That, however, does not mean to always be cautious. You will be required, at times, to make bold decisions. I place my trust in your judgment in this.

I offer only three things to leave you with, wisdom I have gleaned from just over two centuries as a Rogue Trader. First, consider thoroughly the man you wish to become. This dynasty will follow in your footsteps. If you are a brigand, a traitor to your word, so will this House be named. Infamy is easier to achieve, it always has been; but do not mistake it for greatness. The name Holocene has long been synonymous with honor, will you continue that tradition? It will be easy, especially in this time of unrest, for you to turn toward unscrupulous behavior. I hope, for the sake of both your soul and our dynasty, that you will not succumb to this temptation.

My second piece of advice is this: question every decision you make. Allow for doubt and listen to the advice of those whom you trust. Analyze possible outcomes and understand that your decisions affect the lives of thousands today, and perhaps the lives of untold billions as time progresses. However, once a decision is made, let it be made. There are things that cannot be undone once done. Sometimes we simply must live with the consequences of our actions. Greatness is not the same as perfection. Learn to live with the mistakes you will make.

Finally, I leave you with our secrets. As a house descended from Inquisitor Holocene himself – I would warn you that our Dynasty and the very ship that you inherit possesses many. I will not enumerate them here, as words transcribed can be read by others. No, what I have to tell you is for your ears alone. And we will speak true when the time comes.

I know you have the potential for leading the Holocene name back to the glory it once held. When all else fails, remember that I willingly placed this dynasty, along with my trust, in your hands. You have always had about the mark of terrible purpose. The Holocene Name needs such a man at this hour of twilight.

Swift and True shall she venture, so long as your heart is pure.

With greatest affection,

Admiral Lucant Holocene

Character Journal 3 - H. Tiberius Holocene

Day 267, 813M41
Log of Events
Ferral Wolf, comissioned 389M34
Captain H. Tiberius Odysean Holocene

Warrant of Trade # RV-426-G7-96-BFN4Y2
Granted to Rogue Trader Hester Nathaniel Holocene 623M35 327M31
Given leave to spread the light of the God Emperor to places unknown within Segmentum Obscurus.

How do you measure the value of a life?

It is a question that every leader worth his salt must face, even Rogue Traders. I have sent men to their deaths, lost soldiers in battle. I have even left people to die and made decisions that cost the lives of thousands of souls. I tell myself that the sacrifices are necessary; sealing off a burning compartment on my ship might kill hundreds, but save everyone else, tens of thousands of people who rely on me to make the right decision. I have commanded warriors to stand and fight in futility or to advance straight into corruption. But I will never be able to forget the screams of those burning alive, or the sight of men being ripped to pieces at the hands of an Ork horde. Despite these memories, I have always been able to remind myself why I do these things.

How can I let the fate of one life, or even a thousand lives stand in the way of destiny?

I am the progenitor of the Holocene Dynasty. Sending men to their deaths is a part of that. The decisions I make will someday influence entire star systems, billions of people. I will not fail my ancestors, I will not allow our line to fall into oblivion.

And yet...

Losing Sitara was a hammer blow. Though I rarely had opportunity to express them, I cannot deny the feelings I had for her. Love is probably too strong a word, but there was caring and compassion to be sure. She smiled only rarely, but when she did, it brightened my day. Watching her get ripped to shreds by the... thing under the city was devastating.

Suddenly my understanding of my destiny was cast into shadow. If her fate meant so much to me, what of the fates of all the rest who serve under my command, who toil for the name Holocene. How can one man be held responsible for so many? How can I continue to choose to send men into battle, or one of a hundred other gruesome ends?

I wish, for a fleeting moment, that I were someone else; a lowly serf. Riches and fame seem ill-equipped to offset this price, this burden I must bear.

I find myself unsure as to my next course of action. This is unnerving to say the least. I know that I am still tasked with leading this crew, this dynasty. What if I make the wrong choice?

Character Profile: Rook

Here's a entry given to me by Nick for his character - straight out of the blue! Nick obviously plays our resident pskyer, using the Dark Heresy rules for his character, rather than the Rogue Trader rules. It's been interesting, to say the least, to see how they balance out and/or stack up.

Without further ado, here is Rook, in his own words.

+ + + + Decrypting………..Decryption complete + + + +

Classification: Personal Log
Author: Rook
Location: New Holocene Colony, Planet Vedic, Koronus Expanse
Date: 5622815.M41

For reasons I shall explain, my memory of my past is still incomplete. Perhaps my spelling it out on this data slate will help me to recall more.

As near as I am able to determine, I am between forty and fifty standard Terran years of age. I was born aboard a transport ship, (likely while it traveled the warp) to parents I have no recollection of. I survived a childhood on my own in the massive hive city on Firos Prime. Luckily for me, my telepathic talents developed at a very early age. Whenever I was desperate enough, I found I could read the minds of those around me, and even control them to a degree. Upon reaching puberty, I developed pyrokinetic powers as well. I became a Wyrd – an untrained, outlaw psyker, and my talents helped me to survive.

I joined an underhive gang. The Imperium’s laws regarding the sanctioning of psykers meant little to most of the underhive, and my powers gave us an edge. They called me the Rookie. The name stuck even once I became one of the senior members of the gang. Through the gang that became my family, I thrived. Perhaps we did too well. Due in no small part to my now fully developed powers, we expanded greatly and came to control the majority of the underhive. Our influence began to encroach upon the industry of the city above. Eventually, the Arbites took notice, and chose to intervene. They stormed the underhive in force, with an entire infantry regiment of Mordian Iron Guard to support them. They slaughtered us, killing everyone even remotely involved in our affairs. I alone was spared, as psychic fodder for the Black Ships.

Years must have passed before I finally reached Holy Terra. It is a period I prefer not to reflect upon. The Scholastica Psykana found me to be untainted by the warp, but I suppose they did not like my attitude. I can’t imagine why. They blocked most of my memories and implanted fabricated ones more suitable to their needs. I still don’t know what else they did to me in that time, or why every square centimeter of my skin is covered in scars.

I became a sanctioned psyker, and a fanatical devotee of the Holy Inquisition. I spent another two decades in service to the Ordo Hereticus. During that time I committed untold atrocities against citizens of the Imperium, all in the name of rooting out the heretics that hide among them. With my ability to read minds as easily as most read the words on a page, I was an extremely useful tool to the Inquisition. However, over time, my mental conditioning began to erode. After all, I was a telepath, and even the Scholastica Psykana is not infallible. When I finally broke through the blocks on my true identity, my faith in the Emperor and his Holy Inquisition was shattered.

I fled as far as I could go. If I am lucky, the Ordo Hereticus thinks I am dead. Now I find myself out beyond the edge of the Imperium of Man, in service to a planetary explorer named Ishi, and through her, the Holocene Dynasty. My best chance lies in remaining with this Rogue Trader’s crew, though it seems like it will be only a matter of time until he gets us all killed – or gets the rest of us killed, I should say. My memory is still a mess, but whatever happens, I will never go back. I will never again allow myself to be used to harm innocents in the Emperor’s name.

+ + + + End Transmission + + + +

And Now for Something Completely Different

Behold! I bring you the finished model for the arch-militant of the group: Karacus.

Background:

Karacus comes from an unlikely background for an arch-militant. Born and raised on Dynasty Holocene's homeworld of Norn, Karacus grew up as a laborer and servant, someone on one of the lower rungs of society's ladder.

However, during a party one night, one of the younger Holocene children ran into an altercation with some bullies of nobel descent. Harsh words were exchanged. The exchange turned into a challenge. And soon, young Severus Holocene was facing five, well-armed and well-trained noblechildren of the powerful House Dexen. Unable to defend himself against the five much larger teens, Karacus stepped in and defended the young Severus. Almost a giant even as a teenager, Karacus was able to fend off the well-trained assailants.

Severus's father took note of Karacus's deeds and somewhat adopted the boy, watching him grow up as a servant in the Holocene palace. When Karacus was old enough, Severus's father used his considerable influence to place Karacus in a military academy, where he excelled. And no one ever bullied him.

When the Holocene homeworld was overrun by orks ten years ago, Karacus and Severus stayed behind with the last evacuation ship to defend the last grain of their home soil. They both watched as the orks finally completed their invasion and again later when the Adeptus Astartes came in to wipe the planet clean.

Bereft of a homeworld and much of its fleet, Karacus and Severus formed their own mercenary company and spent the next decade of their lives building a formidable mercenary army. It is there that they met Kai Etchdar and Mallum Bar, the void master of the ship.

Model Design:

As I stated before, the giant power fist that the model is wielding comes from a super-ape that Reaper makes. I simply sawed off the figure's hand and put the over-sized gauntlet on its wrist. The power pack is simply the hammer end from an extra Durgen Madhammer fig that I have.

At the last minute, I put on some of Durgen's grenades on the back of the figure, just to make it look even more decked out with weapons and such. Ironically, the real Karacus doesn't use ranged weapons all that often, but by the time I realized this, I had already modded the figure. Oh well - I think I can still encourage the arch-militant's player the ranged weapons are fairly necessary.

Overall, the model came out great and I couldn't be more pleased. Especially with my first serious mod-job. Thanks to everyone for the encouragement and advice!