#but then he meets the rogue trader

[lordcaptains]

:(

:)

[nothing-real-here]

the worst answer was

and the best answers

[freshworms]

GRAAAA I LOVE PASQAL. HE IS SO AWSOME AND WITTY!!!!!

[incorrect-primarchs-quotes]

[mathlann]

Marazhai being Trueborn is worth it if nothing else for the fucked-up sibling drama he has with Yremeryss. She decided to take him being born extremely personally, but also, he's her only Dracon so she's not super incentivized to kill him. So they've just been stuck in a cycle of sabotaging each other for who knows how long, and at least until you come along it seems like she'd been winning.

He fucked up a raid? She has her haemonculus torture Low Gothic into his brain to teach the other Kabalites a lesson. He tries to have her usurped as Archon in front of their liege's Kabal? She lets the Wyches take his skin and make him fight in the arena to earn it back. And even though last one was bad enough he wants her soul trapped over it, he's more mad about the status loss than the "making him earn his skin back" part.

And then later you can ask him about why haven't they killed each other sooner and beyond just being too scared cautious to do it himself, he's also like, "its a bonding thing, and trying to torment other people would be boring so :/" which is probably true but also he doesn't seem to have many stories of getting one up on her so...?

[skolas-a]

My biomancer psyker Rogue Trader, Elena von Valancius. For Owlcat Games' Warhammer 40K: Rogue Trader CRPG

Formerly an Inquisition acolyte, she started out in Ordo Hereticus as a sanctioned psyker, until her master was killed in a joint mission with another Inquisitor, and he took her into his retinue in Ordo Malleus.

However, as years went by, she got in trouble with her master and he wanted to be rid of her in a... subtler manner. Coincidentally, Theodora laid her claim on her, and so Elena was shipped off to the Rogue Trader's retinue.

And now here she is, a Rogue Trader herself, free to chart her own path instead of getting thrown around from place to place.

Still. Seems she can't escape the Inquisition anyway, for fate brought her to meet Heinrix van Calox, an Ordo Xenos Interrogator.

(She jokes it's like she's collecting all three major ordos)

(and yes she's falling for Heinrix lmao, time to bond over being psykers, amirite?)

[cawyden-gaming]

Rogue Trader - Heinrix romance - flirting differences (devil vs. closeness)

With Heinrix you can either flirt aggressively with him which will increase the "devil" counter or you are doing no or very light flirting which will increase the "closeness" counter. This affects in some cases his dialog.

Act 1 - First talk after he is recruited

Devil:

Two options for Devil - one at the start and one later. Both start the romance. The second one ("A little more..." excludes the closeness option.

Closeness:

Starts the romance. This option excludes the devil option "A little more...."

You can also start his romance by talking to him on the bridge after his recruitment. Both options start his romance but doesn't seem to count for the devil or closeness counter.

2. Act 2 - Footfall, when Heinrix returns (at the docks)

Both options can be taken, they do not exclude each other.

Devil:

Closeness:

3. Act 2 - Janus after dealing with the Governor / end of main quest

Devil:

With 3 devil points (or more) before starting the talk you get another response from him:

After this devil option there is another one available (excludes the closeness and corruption point options)

Closeness:

This option exludes the devil and corruption point options

There is also an option to increase his corruption counter (if you want him to leave the inquisition). It does not increase devil/closeness counters.

3. Act 2 - Conversation after his personal quest (in Kiava Gamma) is finished

Devil:

This line excludes the closeness option on top ("You can relate of course..."

The question regarding his romantic preferences has two versions.

If you have less than 3 devil points you get this answer:

If you have at least 3 devil points you get this one:

If you move to the regicide board you have additional options.

This one exludes the other two options that allow you to play regicide with him - so if you take this line you won't be able to do that unfortuantely.

If you have 4 or more devil points you can get a different ending talk with him for this scene (also works with "Running away, are you?")

Closeness:

First dialog option ("You can relate...") counts as closeness and unlocks other dialog for the second closeness option

The "Tell me a secret" line counts as closeness and the answer depends on if you took the first closeness option (in this case you get +2 closeness points)

or not (and you get only + 1 closeness point)

Another closeness option hides behind the question for his favourite food - if you use the smile option it increases the closeness counter

At the regicide board you can have a different ending dialog with him if you have at least 4 closeness points with him:

4. Act 2 - Dragonus ceremony talk

Devil:

Excludes the closeness option

And here seems to be a bug - kissing Heinrix does not increase the devil counter as one would expect, but instead holding his hands:

Closeness:

Excludes the first devil option

5. Act 3 - Start talking with him on the bridge about what happened at the ceremony

Devil:

There are only two devil responses here - I think this is another bug.

I will update this post if I find more, but the later (romance) scenes with him doesn't really seem to use the devil/closeness counters anymore.

Addition

-> You can use the toybox mod (on PC) to check the devil/closeness counters and to change them (or for other things, like seeing dialog options even if you do not meet the criteria or reset your skill points...)

(Mod on Nexusmods), install as instructed.

In game e.g. during dialog press CTRL + F10

For the devil/closeness counters go to "Search 'n Pick" tab and on the left side to "Flags". You can search for "Heinrix_R" to show his romance flags and change the values (don't forget to save before closing the toybox screen)

[jaal-ama-daravv]

The man that is Heinrix van Calox

Alright we need to talk about this man because a) i can't stop thinking about him, and b) i don't want to.

Heinrix has this deep, tormented past. He has been tortured multiple times (to extremes), he has struggled for god knows how long to form any sense of security or emotional attachment due to the nature of his job, and he was mutilated then tormented by his colleagues for his appearance (when I saw this in game I was induced with rage in my bones). In saying that it is no wonder he is so afront about his appearance and candor.

This man is a huge ass SOFTY to the core, he's touch starved, love starved, word starved, and probably just starved. He chooses you over his duty if he trusts you wholeheartedly and I can't put into words just how lonely he must be. To find love in such a universe, and its so fucking obvious this man is down as bad as von valancius is and i love it.

I also headcanon the fact that Heinrix will of seen my commisar rogue trader's posters and heard of her feats and had a huge crush ( like a celebrity crush, 'oh ill never meet them') then bam, starstruck. I live for it.

also you will have to pry my opinion that they tried to have heirs at some point after the conclusion of rogue trader from my dead body

thanks for coming to my heinrix ted talk

note: i initially went into this game being like ha ha, ill just romance heinrix till I meet marazhai because damn, and then, well, here we are. heinrix forever, I love pixels

[rpgchoices]

oh no... I wanted to see what happens if you stab him and I realized that he DOES trust you. He really does. He LETS you grab the knife.

I feel so BAD. I FEEL HORRIBLE. Honestly, the narration makes sure to describe him as feeling fear multiple times during the game (when meeting particularly powerful enemies) so he clearly is afraid of dying (his soul goes to the Prince of Chaos if he dies? did I get that correctly?) so he must trust the Rogue Trader immensely. To hurt him without killing him.

Then I tried to see what happens if you let him brand you but you are playing as dominant!RT. He is pretty disappointed:

This is also the same reaction if you flat out refuse to brand him/use the knife, it ends exactly like this and he will break up with you and leave.

I had to reload immediately and replay the scene correctly.

Now he is happy and cute, flaunting his little marriage mark

[leadflowers]

Bound by duty, separated by the gulf of space, Rogue Trader Niobe von Valancius and the Lord Inquisitor Heinrix van Calox have waited long years to meet again among the stars of the Koronus Expanse.

Being together again, even for a short while, comes as a blessing from the God-Emperor Himself...but as the Lord Inquisitor discovers, there are certain things not even he had foreseen.

(basically this is my headcanon for my RT and Heinrix' first meeting post-game, in comic form!)

[uldren-sov]

more evidence of Marazhai having a completely normal one and confessing to be completely normal since meeting the rogue trader

he does have some great little villain monologues though lol

[maggotknight]

A vignette novelization of Lilith von Valancius finding Pasqal in Commorragh.

tw tags: mild depictions of gore, body horror, blood and injury

link to post on ao3

"No-- Oh, no no no."

Lilith von Valancius staggered towards a familiar heap of red fabric, cast aside atop a pile of half rotted corpses. Cursing and praying under her breath that the Magos Explorator, Pasqal Haeneumann, was still alive. She completely forgot the presence of Sister Argenta and Yrliet, who stood only a few paces behind. Her attention was focused soly on the tech priest, abandoned like organic waste.

Hatred for this accursed place rose in her throat as bile, burning and bitter. She attempted to swallow, but could only stifle a gag at the sight of the Magos' defiled form. Wires and tubing, once pristine and glittering with sacred unguents, now appeared as writhing maggots under waxen flesh. Pasqal groped at his open abdomen, a futile attempt to comprehend what had been done to his True Flesh. How that thing that stalked the Anatomical Opera ruined him.

Lilith knelt and cradled the back of Pasqal's head and torso, a small comfort more for her sake than his.

"What have those things done to you?" She murmured, unable to comprehend what she was seeing, but just as unwilling to look away.

The Magos shuddered an incense scented breath, his vox pricked with an undercurrent of panic, "Defilement… This unit was subject to a profane invasion."

As Pasqal fed his fingers through his chest, small mewlings escaped the machine spirits within his battered body. His mechadendrites struggled against their tech brother's will to rid himself of the blight forced upon him. A language unfamiliar to Lilith was inscribed into the pieces of alien metal nesting within Pasqal's open sternum. Beholding the accursed symbols made the worm behind her eye squirm. It was almost as if everything those reprobates touched turned into something twisted. Even something as sacred as steel.

Pasqal's vox filtered voice crackled, it's own machine spirit's resolve wavering, "A xenos touched my Ferrum Sanctum. Removed parts and… changed other parts. Branded my True Flesh with ulcers of forbidden metal."

Keep it together.

Lilith chided herself, knowing full well if she were to crack, they may as well throw themselves off the edge of The Chasm. Though, she would be lying to herself to say the idea of death wasn't a comfort. The edge was just a few paces away… Pleading Binharic hymns tugged Lilith back to reality, her gaze returning to the metal festering within Pasqal. There was no way she could extract the cancerous metal without it killing Pasqal.

"Pasqal.. please." The Rogue Trader choked back a sob, pleading with the Explorator who's attention was only half with her. "We need to keep goin'. Leave the xeno metals until we can get you to a proper chirugeon."

"Request Denied due to: Violation of the Ninth Universal Law: The Alien Mechanism is a Perversion of the True Path." The Magos, finally, lifts his gaze to meet Lilith's. A note of Binharic resounds from his vox-implant, a message only she could understand: resignation. Pasqal Haneumann was going to rid himself of the anathema, and will surely die trying. The metalic sweet taste of blood coated her tongue as Lilith bit into her lower lip. She was beginning to think what few mercies He had granted her had all but run out. And her retinue were the ones who would truly pay for it.

"You ca--" Lilith began but was interrupted by a hard, painful lump forming in her throat; weak flesh betraying her. Warm liquid traced down her cheeks, a mix of tears and blood bit at the open wounds on her face.

"You. You are a warrior of comprehension-!" She chokes out between stifling sobs, "Remember the 7th Law, damn it! Survive then Comprehend!" Her bitten lips quivered, unable to find the steadfast, confident Commissar that she once was. She holds the Magos to her chest; Red robes bunched between her fingers, seeking any kind of security.

"You can't leave me now.. it's an order.." Lilith whispers.

"This statement is.. true." Pasqal's voice rises, as if finding it for the first time. "I am a warrior of Comprehension. Comprehension is the Key to all things. I will comprehend the anathema and, in doing so, I will not yield." Magos Haneumann pointedly states, regaining the righteous determination that was almost bled from him entirely. Lilith reached out, taking a metallic hand in hers, aiding the tech priest to his feet. His balance momentarily unsteady and, regrettably, unreliable. But he was standing. "This unit is ready to serve. Omnissiah have mercy upon me." He rounds his fingers into the symbol of the Cog and Lilith returns the gesture in kind.

She suddenly became painfully aware of her surroundings and, more importantly, just how disgusting her hands were. Covered in dirt, caked blood and Emperor knows what else. She sniffs down a blood clot (or, quite possibly, maybe, it was an egg from that thing burrowed in her brain), and wipes away the tear stains from her cheeks. Spare what little dignity she had left-- and it was a miracle she had any at all.

"Come on, then." The Lord Captain turned to face the radiant Argenta and battered Yrliet, "We're not getting out of this cesspool by standing here staring at each other like a bunch of arseholes." She waved them over before continuing through the dim streets of Commorragh. The thought of Cassia and Heinrix wriggles at the dark part of her mind. Premature visions of what state she may find Heinrix in produces another rise of bile. Lilith swallows, stuffing down the release her body so desperately needs.

[pamprinninja]

How it started, versus how it's going...

I grew up in the UK, 30 minutes from Games Workshop's Nottingham headquarters; and my childhood heavily featured their games, miniatures, and routine trips to the local Games Workshop store.

During this time, I developed a particular affection for the work of Jes Goodwin. Initially an artist and sculptor, Jes' work was strongly geometric in nature; and displayed an unusually high degree of consistency (a particularly noteworthy achievement during a period where miniatures were sculpted by hand with ad-hoc tools).

For reference - one of Jes' early sketches of a Space Marine in Mk. VI armor; as featured in the guide that accompanied the very first Space Marine paint set:

I actually had the pleasure of meeting Jes in person at Games Day '94; and one of my treasured possessions is the souvenir program, which he kindly autographed:

During my teenage years, I came to possess a handful of Chaos Champions sculpted by Jes. As was so often the case in those early years, the miniatures had been designed as dual use; combining the sort of medieval aesthetics that would warrant inclusion in the Warhammer Fantasy Battle setting, but also the occasional technological greeble that would justify use in Warhammer: 40,000.

As I generally kept to the latter system, I set about cutting up and remodeling these miniatures, with the aim of making the science-fiction elements more explicit. And I was very happy with the end results, too!... Which makes it all the more unfortunate that these miniatures were lost when I relocated to the US.

Two decades later, and I have taken it upon myself to recreate these miniatures (albeit with the full advantage of the skills I have developed in the interim). The first mini on the chopping block is 021919 from the 1989 Citadel Catalog (frequently referred to by its most obvious physical characteristic, "Nurgle Chaos Champion With Fly Mutation"):

(It feels vaguely sacrilegious, taking a razor saw to what is now technically an antique; but I very much subscribe to the DIY mentality that was so prevalent during the initial Rogue Trader days, and - given that the model originates for the same time period - keeping the old traditions alive seems only appropriate.)

In my original conversion, I removed the haft and blade of the axe; and positioned an old Space Ork plasma cannon over the now unobscured shoulder. I also replaced the sandaled foot and exposed fly-mutated leg with their armored equivalents from a Space Marine Devastator.

This time I around, I opted to angle the right arm, to add a greater sense of movement; and completely reposition the left arm, as if to calling out a target:

(In doing so, I created a great many headaches for myself: the right hand snapped off at the wrist, and had to be repaired. Cutting the left arm free necessitated cutting through the hand; and the pins I inserted into the remains of the palm broke free, requiring JB Weld to resecure.

I cannot underscore the frustration inherent to these two experiences; at the same time, I'm a great believer in the idea that growth as an artist demands taking risks - up to and including potentially ruining one's art.)

The original version of the conversion also featured an extended barrel (fabricated from the Lord Fuegan's firepike, and a handful of random Genestealer claws). However, I wanted to replace this with something a little more appropriate for a follower of the Lord Of Pestilence; which ended up being the better part of a Plague Spewer:

In terms of next steps: I intend to strap a canister of goo-based ammunition to his left side; and continue to add new detailing to hide the various cuts and joins.

[bnbc]

#16 and #22 for the Write a Kiss prompt thing! :)

tysm for the ask!! the prompt list is here

16. …lazily.

"You know, what I'm dreaming about?"

"Hmm?"

"A morning," Heinrix allowed himself a shadow of a sight. "Just one morning, when I don't have reports to read and you don't have important meetings to hold. One morning I can wake up, see you, and do this."

Heinrix hand slides under Isabella's arm before pressing her to his chest, his lips brushing against her shoulder.

"Just this?" Isabella knows he can hear a smile in her voice.

"Just this," Heinrix smiles, too. "And then to fall asleep again."

"Your appetites, master van Calox, are quite excessive."

"This is your influence, Lord Captain. Dealing with a Rogue Trader can turn any ascetic into a hedonist."

Isabella twists in his arms, turning to him.

"But you are no ascetic," she says. "So what would you do after waking up again?"

"Oh..."

This is a very promising "oh" indeed.

"I would," Heinrix moves closer, his face bare millimeters from Isabella's now. "I would do something like that."

He quickly kisses her on the tip of her nose, then closes his eyes and snores loudly.

"You'd fall asleep again?!"

"What can I say," Heinrix sighs one more time. "Dreams are intended to be unrealistic."

He expects Isabella to laugh, but her voice is very serious when she says:

"I'm in charge of this ship. I can call on the bridge and order them to change the time, so it would be a morning right now."

Heinrix chuckles softly and objects:

"But we both know it's not true."

"Yes... but we both can pretend."

22. …in a rush of adrenaline.

"Isabella, no!"

Too late. She's already running to the heretics’ leader, getting to the point where she can make eye contact. A chain of short laser rays rip through the air, and bullets sing, burying Heinrix's cry under the cacophony of battle. He thrusts his sword into his opponent's chest and pushes her in the shoulder to free his weapon, but only takes one step to Isabella when the floor refuses to hold him any longer.

Good thing: he's not the only one in the air. Bad thing: it's just moments before people on both sides adapt to a new setting and start shooting again.

The most horrible thing: Isabella, the eye of this storm, hovering at one spot — focused, tense. Motionless.

Well, this is why you still need old good bullets.

Heinrix shoots without aiming just for one impulse to push him in Isabella's direction, and as by command, the air is filled with rays and projectiles again. He crushes into her, as the tension gets to its peak, and the heretic's head explodes, and the gravity has them back.

Hard floor, but a moment later — a soft body under his. Her quick question:

"You or me?"

"You."

Hand on his cheek, a quick kiss, a short:

"Sorry."

Their rapid heartbeats and the veil so thin, the voices of the other side almost join the song of the battle. The rip in reality is healed, but for how long?

He helps her up, he helps her in the cover. The shooting is getting slower as if all the opponents are expecting another gravity shift, as Paqual's voice in their beads calmly announcing that the probability of their victory just increased to 74,28%.

Isabella quickly squeezes Heinrix's wrist as her eyes change color from purple to dark blue in a silent promise: no more sorcery for today, no more risk. He nods and dives back into the dying battle: somebody has to finish the job.

[shady-tavern]

WIP for the long short-story “Holding Curses with Gentle Hands”

Lune had been born a little different, two minutes before her twin brother Luc, into a world teeming with magic. She grew up like any other little girl, playing and roughhousing, splashing through mud with her brother. They learned how to climb trees up and down with all the fearlessness of someone who had not quite yet learned how painful falling could be.

She was bright and inquisitive and always pulled her brother along towards her next idea. Showing him snails and slugs and bugs and bees. He came up with stories of all kinds as they played, creating crafty trolls and sweet little fairies as they swung sticks around and made dolls out of grass and flowers. 

They came back home with skinned knees and rips in their clothes and grins so wide and bright they might just rival the sun. They were, indeed, very happy children.

It was only when school started that Lune and Luc learned that they were different. In a world where their neighbor grew a bucket of strawberries in the span of a week, where the grouchy mayor always looked sparkling and perfect and every child learned at least one or two cantrips as they grew up, they were very, very ordinary.

Not a single spark of magic was to be found in their veins.

At first their parents were very concerned, worried that something had happened to their beloved children. That someone might have cursed the babes out of jealousy. Their mother sought out everyone she might have accidentally insulted to apologize, while their father reached out to old friends he lost contact with, worried he might have offended them.

But when an expert came by, he told them the children were fine. They were just ordinary. As bland as old lettuce, he said.

"They're bright children," their neighbor said while bringing them a bowl of strawberries. "It doesn't matter if they have magic or not. At worst their lives will be a little boring."

"We'll adjust their classes," their kind and cheerful teacher promised. "Don't worry, we'll compensate for their lack of magic. They could become great, um, scribes!"

"They don't understand what they're lacking," the mayor said offhandedly during one of his rounds through their little town. "They were born without magic, they didn't lose it. That's a good thing, it will cause them less grief."

Lune and Luc heard their parents cry at night and they looked at each other, deciding that if they had no magic, at least they could be kind. They would make sure their parents wouldn't have to be so sad all the time.

They became some of the hardest working students their school had ever seen and the entire town had nothing but praise for the friendly twins willing to lend a helping hand. Their parents got used to their magic lacking children and while everyone in town knew and never failed to inform travelers and traders about the unfortunate twins, it bothered them less and less over the years.

When the time came that Lune and Luc were old enough to leave the house, their parents were incredibly reluctant to let them go.

"There are a lot of dangers in the world," their mother worried, wringing her hands. "You have no magic to defend yourselves with."

"We'll be careful," Lune promised. "And we'll stick together."

"How will you avoid bandits and rogue mages and magical beasts?" their father fretted, packing daggers into their bags.

"We'll stay on the road," Luc answered. "The queen's road is safe and regularly patrolled. We'll stick with other travelers and traders so we won't be alone."

Their words soothed their parents. While they were sad to see their children go, they gave the twins everything they could possibly need and sent them on their way.

For the first time, Lune and Luc left their hometown and soon they realized how freeing it was to meet people who had no idea who they were. What they were lacking.

They reached a big city after a couple of weeks, getting lost among winding streets and big, bustling crowds. They met mercenaries and adventurers and at one point, Luc started to write down stories inspired by their tales if they agreed to speak to him. He accumulated a big book full of daring tales, of dashing heroes and wicked foes and wondrous places. Of loss and love and what it meant to be brave.

They settled down in the city after a while. Luc learned to play the lute from an old bard and spent his nights in taverns, chatting up travelers and earning his keep by playing music and telling his tales. As well as fleecing drunkards at games of dice.

Lune found herself working at an antique store that doubled as a pawnbroker. Many of the adventurers came to get rid of the odd trinkets and pretty, shiny knickknacks they picked up during their travels and quests.

Sometimes, the items they tried to pawn off were magical and that always made her boss leery. He always refused them, sending them on their way.

"It just means shit's cursed," he would grumble into his majestic beard. "They would not come to us if they could sell magic items to mages instead. Don't touch those things, even the best mages can't always defend themselves against curses."

"Can't curses be broken?" She had heard enough of those tales from the stories Luc read her. He liked to read things he wrote out loud, getting her opinion on his wording and descriptions.

"Aye," the shop owner dusted one of the stained glass decorations he had been trying to sell for a while now. "But you can only remove the curse from the person, not from the item. That's what makes curse casters so much trouble, they fuck up perfectly good merchandise. The best you can do is destroy the item in question and hope that the curse let's go. Doesn't always work, but it's worth a try."

He made Lune promise to never accept magical items from anyone and already the next day she unwittingly broke that promise. She had no magic and therefore no sense for magic either. 

She accepted a plain gold necklace from a mercenary while her boss was in the backroom. The woman had handed the necklace over with gloved hands and a relieved look in her eyes.

Lune chalked that up to her having debts to pay off and startled when her boss returned only to start cussing.

"Stupid girl," he hissed, staring at the necklace in her hand while the woman bailed before she could be stopped. "That's magic, cursed magic! Do you have any idea what that will do to you?"

Startled, Lune dropped the necklace onto the counter and they both stared at it as though it was a life, poisonous snake.

[mathlann]

Marazhai, what a show of commitment.