#crime lord rogue trader

[nadas-dirthalen]

For the character ask game — maybe the first time Heinrix saw Heliora’s mask slip 👀👀👀

Thank you for the ask!!! 🫶

(If you want to join in on the fun, find them here!)

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It sets her teeth on edge, when she hears an old name from his mouth.

‘Heli Stubbs,’ the Interrogator says one day on the bridge of her ship, newly departed from Rykad Minoris while its governor sorts through burgeoning rebellion. She cuts him with a look she doesn’t wholly mean, and the pride in his smile wavers. ‘I thought your… I thought you looked familiar.’

There's some footnote about her in an Inquisition file, apparently, from her days as a relative nobody two decades ago: a smuggler working under other, more important smugglers in Calixis' Cold Guild.

For the next week, she builds her own dossier of him in some sort of retaliatory ploy. His family; who he’d been; who—and what—he’d become. She passes him on the bridge and seeks to pry away strips of his armor as he’d done to her, for only that split second.

What she finds instead are a series of pleasant—not cordial, pleased—smiles. Breaths of self-deprecating laughter; crooked grins that border on amused. ‘I’m usually the one interested in the pasts of those around me, not the reverse.’

He comes from a Knight World, then a Black Ship, and van Calox isn’t a family name, but from an early teacher somewhere in the Calixis Sector: same as where she was born. He relaxes at mentions of home—not Calixis, home—and lapses into long silences at every mention of what he sees as a curse.

He might be every bit as afraid of the Inquisition’s heavy hand as she is, and that speaks to his intelligence.

His armor, though, doesn’t budge. Not yet. Not quite.

And so the game goes on. The first casualty of his powers was a grink; second, an aunt. He is covered head to toe in scars that he has painstakingly smoothed over. Not even age leaves a proper mark on him. He speaks of his once-future as a Knight Pilot with the same wistful gleam as a child recounting a bedtime story.

His eyes are two different colours, when the light hits them. He turns away each time their gazes meet too long.

That’s it, she thinks. The crack in him, surely. But he shows no soft underbelly—not on the bridge—and her jaw stays clenched.

Why? It’s not that she hasn’t carved an equal chunk out of him.

She grapples with it. Paces the bridge, forward and back, refusing his glances. Paces her quarters, over and over, while she should be sleeping.

Soon, she flexes these new powers she’s been granted and arranges a meeting in the study still cluttered with her predecessor’s things. The invitation isn’t a question, and the way he sits opposite her desk suggests he thinks it’s some kind of scolding.

His lips twitch when something eats at him. She’ll remember that, too.

She sets her elbows on the desk because she can. “Tell me what you know about Heli Stubbs.”

His brow pinches. “There are things the Inquisition—”

“Everything you can, then.”

“... Why?”

She should brandish this newfound might at him. Some kind of revenge by proxy for a lifetime spent witnessing all the Inquisiton’s brutal judgments up close, on the ground. Let him feel fear he seems far too familiar with already, for his own veiled reasons. Let him know what it means for the shadow of an inquiry to dog one’s every step, even though he’s had the paranoid look of a man under watch since the day they met.

Instead, a sigh deflates her chest. For the first time in days, her jaw loses its clench. She meets the Interrogator’s—Heinrix’s—eyes with no more intent to dissect what she finds there.

She’s tired, so tired, and she lets it show.

“Because everyone who’s ever called me by that name is dead.”

[spicyraeman]

"In times of war, it is better to execute an innocent than to harbor a mole. Nothing personal kid."

[aylameridiandrawsstuff]

Another custom Rogue Trader portrait completed!

My commissions are open! Check out my commission info HERE

[thatzombiecat]

Rogue Trader OCs face ref sheets: coloured versions

Both their past and current appearance. Decided to make an impromtu skin colour study out of these sketches.

OC: Vincent Emmanuel Andar (von Valancius) OC: Elayne Andar van der Ghiessen (von Valancius)

[natchart]

The new portrait for my crime lord RT Coranna. Do trust her smile, it is completely safe 😏

I decided to leave Heinrix's gloves. Let's say, that she honestly won it in regicide😉 but no second version this time.

And here is the old portrait, that I did a year ago. I hope I made some progress.

[kkas-von-ber]

Just gotta say thank you real quick for RT Appreciation Week:

Corrana by @augustender thank you for giving me the courage to take part in this. Corrana's attitude and hat (not pictured) are as fun as they are intimidating. I want her to have all the shiny stuff and can't wait to see more of her, thank you again!

Tessera by @kshert I've been one of her secret admirers for a long time. I wouldn't be here without her, in a way, all thanks to you. The care and symbolism put into her design is really vivid and fun to discover.

Bor by @tumbgert is just so dynamic and expressive in your amazing comics especially, never fails to make me smile, thank you for that. I hope she enjoys many glasses of sugared water.

And of course thank you @arcandoria for the awesome template!

[gingerfan24]

Making new Rogue Trader blorbos in my head faster than I can play them.

[rats-and-robots]

Abelard is used to the Rogue Trader’s… eccentricities. It isn't heretical to simply enjoy tighter spaces… but it certainly is odd that the man is often curled up–fingers silently flipping through some tome or another–high up in a crevice of the ship’s walls where he could, potentially, listen in to the goings on of his retinue.

Abelard has learned to scan the upper lines of the ship’s walls when searching for the Rogue Trader, but has also taken to doing so idlely, just to see if the oddly dexterous operator has found somewhere new to inhabit.

He doesn't do this to hide, he is easily spotted if one knows where to look. Most don't bother looking up. 

Odd indeed. But right now, it is some measure of very, very humorous.

Garion von Valancius is lounged in the intricate mechanics of the ship like some feline beast on some jungle tree branch watching and listening to the ongoing bickering between Marazhai and Argenta. Abelard has taken to standing aside, noticing that Argenta–having been around the Lord Captain as long as he has–has also spotted him, throwing glances upward at the man every few seconds to glare at him for finding amusement in this. Marazhai, on the other hand, has just made a scathing comment about the Lord Captain, using that insulting word to refer to the Rogue Trader.

“I believe I instructed you not to call me mon’keigh, Aezyrraesh.”

The drukhari jolted with all the grace of shattering glass, whipping around to look for where the voice came from. Argenta just laughed, and Abelard quietly chuckled into his hand.

“Up here.”

The dark eldar finally looked up, his face suddenly flush with fury and embarrassment, at a loss for words for a moment. Garion smirked down at him, the stretch of his cheeks distorting the warp-burn scar on the side of his face, patiently waiting the stunned xenos’ expression out. Finally, something came out of that fanged mouth, “What are you doing up there?”

“You haven't apologized–” Garion’s head tilts to the side, “–for your blatant disregard for my orders.”

Marazhai flinched, his eyes looking hard to one side, reminding Abelard of a spurned canine. He bowed his head ever so slightly, “My… apologies, Lord Captain…”

The Rogue Trader laughs openly, the metal claws of his replaced arm tapping along the metal he reclines on. “How obedient... You should behave even when you think I'm not around. Farris learned that lesson decades ago.” Abelard would swear an almost… hungry look crossed the drukhari’s face, but he promptly ignores it.

Garion clicks his tongue, the taunting grin falling away from his face, “However, as I've told the rest of my retinue; I am from a Forge World, I am far more comfortable in the recesses of machinery and cable than the open spaces. Out there,” he motions to the hallway, “I am exposed from many angles. Here, I am exposed from only one. Much of my idle time is spent in places like this.”

The drukhari considers that, head tilting to one side, “How interesting. Yet you're cornered there, not exposed and yet trapped. And what of your large open throne and Cathedral?” 

“I despise the openness of both, but they are expected of me.” The smirk does not drop from the Rogue Trader's face, “Do you really think I am trapped, Aezyrraesh? Do you plan to attack me? With a sister of battle and my loyal Seneschal behind you?”

“No, but–”

“I am not trapped.” The interruption comes with a tone of finality, “And even were they gone and you with every intent to kill or torture me…” Fabric shifts, and the man draws a long blade previously sheathed in his sleeve, “You would swiftly find that I carry as many weapons as you have spikes in your armor.” The blade is hidden again, “Are you satisfied?”

A snicker and a sneer, “Never.”

Argenta makes a disgusted noise and the argument starts anew. Garion and Abelard share a glance, a simple look that simply said ‘don't let them kill one another’ before the Rogue Trader rolled from his side onto his back in the small space and drawing his datapad back up.

Abelard walks over, leaning against the wall below his Lord Captain, “Should I stop their bickering?”

“They can handle themselves against one another. Just make sure they don't stain my carpets or waste their lives on one another if they draw their weapons.” A small ‘beep’ from the datapad as the man has fully tuned out the argument once again, “Ones with passion such as theirs should have the opportunity to deal it out with one another. The battlefield will be more tolerable if they settle themselves now.”

Abelard tilts his head back. He forgets, often, that this is not, in fact, the Lord Captain's first time commanding such a large group, he still seems so young, and yet he handles the rabble with astonishing grace. He had once been a Crime Lord, had a council beneath him of valuable assets as likely to stab him in the back as they are to be doggedly loyal. He supposes someone like Marazhai may even be more familiar to him than someone like himself.

“Will you openly spar with him as you have the rest of us?”

This seems to make the trader pause. Abelard can only guess what is on his mind in the silence that draws out after it–from Garion, anyway. Did a drukhari, of all xenos, deserve the tradition of the von Valancius flagship? Much less the same one that had antagonized them for so long? At least, that is the line of thought he assumes.

“...Yes. I simply have to finish recovering from Commorragh.” The barely-audible murmur was followed by another small beep. A quiet admission that his oldest wounds still scream at him from being back in the blackened city.

A nod, “I will have the observation deck prepared as soon as you are ready.”

The two warriors huff at one another and part ways, finally. Marazhai shoots a curious look towards the Lord Captain before making his way down the hall.

[bnbc]

Got her a more accurate outfit!

[grandwitchbird]

Still one of my favorite rp conversations ever.

[tacticalgrandma]

I got toybox for rogue trader and that’s helped a lot, but one thing I wish it had in addition to an “everyone’s romanceable” setting is a “they’re not romanceable” setting. A friend’s playing as a male rt and he’s complaining that his only dialogue options with Cassia are romance or dickhead—which sucks because I really like how sweet my rt can be with her. And I think I’m getting the same treatment with Heinrix as a female rt.

[daemon-in-my-head]

I never realised how big the Crime Lord coat actually is. I love it even more now that I've stared at it for way too long.

[achillvs]

YES finding a good, lengthy fic about your chosen companion x player character and the character's class/stats etc match yours - love being correct

[haerttpunch]

The lord captain Milisant von Valancius of the uh. Hm. "Eunuch Unit".....

[thatzombiecat]

RT OCs face sketch ref sheets, current looks

OC: Vincent Emmanuel Andar (von Valancius) OC: Elayne Andar van der Ghiessen (von Valancius)

Okay I went further and decided to edit these face ref sketches for their current appearances because I'm restless and can't shut up about them. My pookies after they survived the angst meatgrinder.

Past looks here:

[natchart]

A sketch of my RT Coranna. Thoughtful, after heavy day.

In public she always smiles, this is her mask. Even heavily wounded or in great peril she will stubbornly smile. Only those who gained her trust ever seen her without a smile.