Smelted and Dealt It: A Tale of Molten Hospitality

 

Rogue Trader Session Recap: Molten Morons and the Scrap Code Caper

There is something to be said for clear-cut objectives. Don’t ask us what, though; clarity is not our strong suit. We ended last week with some lingering questions:

Answers to Last Week’s Cliffhangers:

• Does Yrliet love Lazarus now? Some mysteries are eternal, like why anyone would wear white in a smelting facility.

• Will Craig hit something on purpose? No – in fact, we went a whole combat without him hitting anything. He never reads the fine print; he ran up to a combat servitor to give it a righteous smackdown with his thunderhammer, applied all his buffs, then did nothing. Like a microwave with the door open.

• What exactly is our mission again? Yes, apparently we have to deliver Heinrix to Lazarus's Manufactorium so he can investigate rumours of chaos insurgency. It sounded more exciting when the Inquisition said it.

We gave Yrliet the night off to ponder the meaning of life (and whether she has to flirt to keep her job). Then we escorted Heinrix down to Kiava Gamma. Based on previous planetary landings, we expected to be met by someone of marginal importance who would be promptly murdered in front of us, triggering a small war. Instead? No welcome party. Not even a banner.

Pasqal muttered in binary. The servitors were glitching. The Manufactorum had been offline for two months. Lazarus muttered "Stay frosty," which made Lanto, dripping in sweat near a smelter, raise an eyebrow and ask, "Is that even possible here?"

We met a friendly fellow who offered to take us to the man in charge—Fabricator-Censor Cubis Delphim. He ushered us to a very specific platform and said, "Wait here," with the kind of ominous cheerfulness you only hear before betrayal. He walked to the wall, pulled a lever, and dumped molten metal on us. Again, Lazarus proves that trusting strangers in clearly marked kill zones is his specialty. You’d think the crematorium incident would’ve taught him something. It did not.

Pasqal escaped the molten bath and repaid the favour by shoving the tech priest into it, just to see how he liked it. Then, for good measure, he shot him. Argenta dove for cover as backup arrived. Everyone else scattered like cockroaches in a torchlight. Vegetable, naturally, opted for the slow scenic route through the lava—presumably exfoliating—and yelled, "Mmmm - smells like DEATH!" before whipping out his thunderhammer and thwacking the nearest enemy.

That’s when the suicidal bomb-servitors arrived. Argenta, Heinrix, and Lazarus were immediately down for the count. The Magos-tech priests had bug-zapper rifles and treated us like pests. It was one of our hardest fights yet, and somehow we survived—probably through spite, luck, and a complete disregard for battlefield tactics.

With Argenta barely mobile (fractured arm, broken ribs, righteous fury), she declared she wasn’t going to be much use in another fight. Vegetable, helpful as ever, suggested she get a thunderhammer and fight like a man. Lazarus, unusually lucid, called a retreat so we could fetch bandages, snacks, and painkillers.

Back on the surface, we explored. Vegetable requested an athletic interlude to show off his vertical prowess. Pasqal stumbled upon a possibly insane tech-priest who claimed the Manufactorum had been infected with scrap-code, and only he survived. Pasqal suggested tearing out his components and putting him out of his misery. Heinrix nodded. Lazarus sent him to the ship instead—because nothing says "safe" like housing a corrupted machine-cultist with trauma.

After more climbing, we found the elusive Fabricator-Censor. He’d enhanced himself into a blade-covered, syringe-spouting machine man and, as is tradition, ran away mid-conversation. His minions stayed behind for the beatdown. They were dispatched with our usual blend of bullets, blades, and mildly sarcastic shouting.

Next we found a Chaos Marine giving an inspirational talk to some cultists. Argenta wanted to open fire immediately. Vegetable persuaded Lazarus to listen to the heretic's monologue, claiming we might learn something. We didn’t. Argenta ended the soliloquy with a bolt round.

Vegetable charged in. The Chaos Marine tried to kick him into oblivion—four times. Vegetable just stood there. All that experience as a punching bag is finally paying off. Heinrix demonstrated some quality sword-and-brain explosion combos. Lanto revealed his new signature move: guaranteed hits with weak shots, guaranteed whiffs with powerful ones. The marine got thoroughly piñata’d.

We still hadn’t found Cubis Delphim’s secret lair, but we did stumble across suspicious unauthorized parts being fabricated. Naughty corner infractions noted.

Then came another corrupted Magos, surrounded by Skritta servitors and floaty skulls. He raved about the enlightenment of chaos and confessed to writing the scrap-code infecting the planet. Pasqal offered him a swift death in exchange for compliance and cranial tech extraction. He declined.

Pasqal kicked off the fight by tossing in his long-awaited robot-frying grenade. According to him, it did something. The rest of us remain skeptical. The Skritta responded with a weird psychic grenade that scrambled Vegetable’s already minimalist brain. He spent the rest of the battle running in circles, waving his hammer menacingly and yelling things like "I am a meat popsicle!"

Finally, we located Cubis Delphim again—this time with cronies and another oversized red chaos robot. We proposed an ambush. Lazarus, clearly infected with diplomacy, asked questions instead. Cubis responded with a dramatic "Let me show you!" and summoned another mechanical horror.

Cue righteous fury. Vegetable, rattled from his previous episode, went in swinging—but with the enthusiasm of a toddler with a foam bat. Lanto's hunting rifle actually worked (finally), blasting Cubis and his entourage into scrap. If only his high-powered shots had such accuracy.

With the boss dead, we looted the area, learned some new tricks, and began compiling our shopping list. Lazarus called for a pickup. Heinrix, not to be outdone by logic or pacing, whined, "But what about my quest?"

Map time. Right in the centre, an ominous unexplored section. Vegetable had an idea (I know). It worked (I KNOW).

There we found a room full of mutant horrors—chaotic flesh blobs made from mashed workers. Heinrix wanted to chat. Lazarus declined. Heinrix zapped them into silence.

Next week: The bowels of the Manufactorum and the fate of the missing millions. Also, Craig may finally land a hit. But don’t hold your breath.

Thunder Hammers and Emotional Damage

Warp Shenanigans: The "Diplomacy" Phase

Everything isn’t something. Or as Craig put it, “What if the real loot was the friends we made along the way?" To which Zaph immediately replied, "No."

You may recall from last week's episode of "Space Tinder: Xenos Edition," Yrliet, our resident alien sniper with trust issues and high standards, was growing increasingly weary of being hit on by Mon-keigh NPCs. Lazarus, ever the opportunistic noble with delusions of grandeur (and possibly a secret thing for pointy-eared emotional unavailability), suggested we make ourselves more attractive by saving some of her people. You know. Heroically. On brand.

Thus began our deeply scientific approach to finding them: warp-jumping randomly from system to system like overly caffeinated space surveyors with a broken GPS. We scanned a dozen worlds, found precisely zero romantic subplots, and began to suspect the GM had finally installed that "Disappointment Expansion Pack."

Eventually, we stumbled upon a system mid-space battle. Cue dramatic music. We inserted ourselves into the fray with all the grace of a diplomatic sledgehammer. Pascal calmly convinced the local PDF (Planetary Defence Force, not a file format) to leave, thus proving once again that Dave is alarmingly persuasive when speaking through a 7-foot metal priest with tentacle arms.

Yrliet's kin, however, were less receptive. We offered them safe passage; they politely declined. We offered supplies; they accepted. We offered witty banter; they exploded. Bit rude, really.

Then we met some scavengers salvaging wreckage. We offered them a ride. They foresaw our doom and politely passed. It is difficult to argue with psychic clarity.

Skipping the Chaos fight (because we like our intestines inside), we diverted to a crash site belonging to the Inquisition. Surely nothing could go wrong there.

Spoiler: Everything went wrong.

The ship was filled with the sort of ambiance you get when a murder cult throws a surprise party. Pulsating walls, psychic howling, and just enough corpses to make you question your life choices. But there was loot. Oh, the loot. And keycards. And locked doors. And enough ominous foreshadowing to make a Black Library author weep.

We were, predictably, ambushed. And just when things got tense, Lazarus (me) began barking orders. Tactical orders. Motivational orders. Possibly some feedback on turret placement. Apparently, this was a bit much for Vegetable, who, in a moment of cathartic release and possible psychotic break, struck Lazarus into the floor with a thunder hammer.

To be clear: one hit. Knocked out. Sister Argenta got caught in the shockwave and was stunned too. Vegetable then immediately sprinted off to play with turrets like a toddler after an espresso.

Zaph and Yrliet, with the cold detachment of seasoned operators, turned the tide with grenades and impeccable aim. We stabilized Lazarus (thank you, auto-docs) and carried on into the belly of the corrupted ship.

There we found it: the Glowy Sphere of Problematic Mystery. It summoned mutants. It summoned plague demons. It refused to die unless its minions were defeated in ritual combat. Naturally, we obliged. Vegetable redeemed himself by turning into a walking plague blender, coating himself in corpse confetti. When the sphere finally exploded in a satisfying burst of narrative closure, we took our loot and returned to the ship for a bit of R&R and morally ambiguous shopping.

The Space Battle (or: Ram Not Included)

We ended the session with a ship-to-ship skirmish. We broadsided enemies. We dodged missiles. We even tried to line up a glorious ram. Thus far, the ram remains decorative. Like a novelty hood ornament made of disappointment. But we gained skills, upgrades, and a new crew position, possibly titled "Ram Alignment Officer" (applications open, experience with spatial geometry preferred).

Next time: Does Yrliet love Lazarus now? Will Craig hit something on purpose? And what exactly is our mission? (Seriously, does anyone remember?)