There's more to this campaign than a bunch of naked people breaking and entering in the suburbs. The Meanwhile... thread will include bits and pieces of things going on that relate to the characters but don't directly involve them. Some of this may seem strange, but it will all start to make sense over time - trust me. My players did.

WARNING: This thread will contain potential spoilers. If you are a player in this campaign and want to maintain a perfect mystery for yourself, read no further. If you're more interested in knowing stuff and have no problem keeping player and character knowledge separate and distinct, then by all means enjoy.

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His private sanctum was dark, the air heavily laden with the pungent scents of incense. Long angular shadows cast by the flickering torches on the wall danced across the room and along his armor hanging with his sword on one stone wall.

Hamish leaned back in his large plush throne-like chair and stretched. On the heavy wood table in front of him were the reports from the rebel prisoners’ interrogations. Much was consistent but where it mattered, accounts differed in unexplainable ways. The inconsistencies meant that one or more of them managed to lie or avoid talking about certain aspects of the rebellion’s operations.

The chronometer on the ceiling informed him that he had little time before his best source of information would present itself. He reached for his pewter goblet and sipped the dark red within, and as if in response to his thoughts, a chime from his doorway announced the arrival of his expected guest.

A thin, cruel smirk formed on his face. He took his time, turning his large chair towards the entrance and loosening the sash which held his thick robe closed. When he was seated and comfortable, he finally barked, “Enter.”

The door opened only slightly and she floated in through the portal before quietly closing it behind her. The grace and elegance of her walk was finely honed from years at the feet of those who tutor young women in such arts. She wore translucent gossamer wisps of billowing silken cloth over what he could see was a complete ensemble of lingerie which did amazing things to her perfectly formed eighteen-year-old figure.

When she reached his throne she stopped and knelt, flowing to the ground as smoothly as water poured from a cup. She positioned herself knees apart, head down, arms outstretched at shoulder level, offering herself.

Hamish’s smirk widened into an appreciative, anticipatory grin, and he stirred beneath his robes at just the sight of her. He let her stay there like that for a full five minutes, savoring her willing subservience and mulling over how best to make use of it.

“Look at me,” he commanded.

Her head rose to obey, one long golden curl of her hair falling out of the wrap around her head. Hamish studied her face, her eyes intently. He saw nothing dangerous – no resistance, no fear, no anger – nothing except adoration, desire, and an inviting willingness. The technician’s report had said that she had taken almost four times as long to break as a typical subject, but that once she succumbed she had taken to the programming with surprising quickness. Looking at her now, Hamish commented to himself that they had done their work well.

“Are you ready to serve?”

At the question, the look in her eyes adopted that of one who had just been granted her fondest wish. “Yes, Dominus,” she breathed in a sultry voice.

Hamish’s own face was a mask of triumph and satisfaction. He untied the sash on his robe and opened it, revealing his powerful, muscular body. His long, thick member stood strong and proud, bouncing lightly in time with his pulse.

“Then come to me now, Princess.”

“Yes, Dominus.” She rose as smoothly as she had knelt and with a subtle gesture her thin coverings fell from her to pool at her feet. Her long, flowing blonde hair had been transformed into a mass of wavy curls that now fell to the middle of her back and across her bare shoulders. The bra, thong, and stockings she wore were white and had a small amount of lace edging to them.

She moved to stand between his parted knees, slowly allowing her hands to begin to caress his thighs. He allowed her to set her own pace, interested to see where it would go. Her hands came up to slowly, tantalizingly remove her bra. Her thong followed soon thereafter. She drew the actions out, making a highly erotic show out of them.

“Leave the stockings on,” he told her. In the best of times he was not a patient man. Seeing the once proud and defiant royal display herself before him like this affected him far more deeply than he had anticipated. Fortunately he was now in a position to do something about it.

“Mount me,” he commanded in a lust-heavy tone. “Show your complete and total submission to your Dominus by taking me inside of you now.”

“Yes, Dominus,” the Princess replied eagerly, her creamy toned thighs sliding over his lap to straddle him. She reached a hand down between them and gently took hold of his manhood in order to guide him into her. Hamish closed his eyes as the folds of her opening engulfed the head of his cock. She slowly teased him by moving her hips in a slow circle, letting her wetness prepare him as her nether lips worked the sensitive tip.

He could take no more. His large hands took her firmly by the hips and began to push her down, impaling her upon him. Hamish was a large man, and she was a nubile young woman with little real physical experience, yet she took him completely and easily if somewhat slowly. Soft, incredibly sexy moans and squeals escaped her full, parted lips as she fed more and more of him inside of her.

When he bottomed out and was fully embraced by her, their crotches grinding against each other, his iron hardness stretching her inner sheath, her internal muscles squeezed him tightly and began a rhythm of massaging contractions that was unexpected and delightful. She was very wet, he noted, as she began a regular, wave-like grinding undulation of her hips, her hands on his shoulders.

The Princess’ head lolled and her back arched as her first climax crashed over her like a tidal wave. Her entire body trembled with her response and her inner walls thrummed around his cock as she came crying out his name. Hamish leaned forward and captured one of her nipples in his mouth, worrying it with his tongue. The technicians had done their programming work very well indeed. This girl could fuck.

Her hands had moved in their orgasmic haze from his shoulders to cradle and caress his head as he mouthed her tits. When he pulled his head up her face was very close to his. He kissed her and she kissed him back, equal measure. When they broke he leaned back and rested his hands on her hips as she went to work on him as no woman had ever before.

“Ahh… Princess…,“ She performed a swirl maneuver that nearly sent him over the edge. But before that joyous event occurred, he had some questions to ask.

“Easy… yes, that’s it. Make it last, my dear.” The intensity of her riding movements abated somewhat yet lost none of their potency. A shudder ran through her as she effortlessly reached another, somewhat smaller climax. He was certain, if he asked her too, she could prolong his own release indefinitely, so skilled was she at this.

Her head was tilted slightly back and to the side, her mouth parted in an oval, her expression one of pure rapture as she slowly fucked herself senseless upon him. The fullness of his tool inside of her as she worked herself upon it, the knowledge that she was fulfilling her life’s one sole desire – to please her master – the dim atmosphere, the scent of incense... it all served to make her head spin.

“Look at me,” he told her once again. Her head moved to look directly into his eyes and her own were glazed windows into a lust-consumed soul. Hamish traced a finger across her cheek and her mouth opened to suck his finger inside and give him an idea as to what she could do to him with it if he only commanded it.

“Without stopping what you are doing, I want you to tell me everything you know about the rebellion, starting with its leaders.”

“Yes, Dominus,” she breathed in a shaky croon as the heated waves of another orgasm, possibly her largest yet, began to rise within her core. Her glassy eyes were blind with devotion. "Anything for you."

The words began to flow from her as freely as the moisture between her legs. She spared no detail, he noted with satisfaction, pausing only to cry out in time with the waves of intense pleasure as the ecstasy of her service to her lord and master consumed her.

* * * * *

The patter of rain on the stone sill of his open tower window accompanied the gloomy light of an overcast sky coming into Hamish’s private chamber. The flash of lightning and cracks of thunder were welcome, idle threats. By the end of the day even the palace’s backup capacitors would be fully charged, replenishing what was expended on putting down the rebel attack two days previous.

Hamish allowed himself a smile of resolution as he locked the tie strap catch on his rugged sabaton. One less thing.

A stirring from his wide goose down bed on the raised half of the room caused his head to turn, his foot still up on the desk chair as he tightened the strap of his boot. His golden-haired concubine was still asleep. No wonder, given the workout he’d given her the night previous. It had been Hamish’s devout pleasure to use her, to command her to perform services which even the most jaded brothel customer would have hesitated to ask for from a professional. She did not quail or give anything less than her full-hearted enthusiasm, and her performance had been nothing short of brilliant.

The Princess – former princess, he reminded himself – had been no less dazzling in her recounting of the details of the rebellion she had encouraged and sponsored. The level of detail she had provided served to fill in the many holes in the intelligence gained through the interrogation of the rebel leadership. It had been such a flowing font of information that Hamish had called in a scribe to record it all for the record.

Before the night was out, Hamish had provided his Emperor with a complete file on the rebellion against his rule, and he had been rewarded well for his defense of the Empire. His reward stirred once more and turned over in the bed, the covers falling off half of her. Hamish considered, as he lifted his heavy spaulders over his head, that he really ought to command her to clean herself up. She was still crusty with the residue of their exertions.

Another staccato rumble came through the window and shook the tower, and Hamish paused in settling the high armored pieces upon his shoulders while his brow furrowed in uncertainty. He resumed fixing them into place as he slowly walked to his balcony and looked out upon the storm-blanketed palace grounds. The wind took hold of his white hair in a warning.

That was no thunder, he accused the evening air.

In response, the courtyard lit up once again, but not with the white light of cloud-born electricity. Across the field and beyond the outer wall, the two-person skimmers lined up on their service bays were shadows in the orange illumination cast by an explosion from one of the hangars. With eyes squinting in rising fury, Hamish watched the fireball float up like a slowly-vanishing specter. He turned and strode quickly back inside.

The perimeter alarm sounded in the palace and brought his servant out of her early-morning drowsiness to sit upright in his bed. As he crossed the room to the fireplace he pointed at her. “Stay where you are,” he ordered her before she could so much as peep.

The sword was in its place on the mantle. He reached for it and put his arm and head through the straps of the scabbard. The knock on his door came as he finished settling it onto his back. He did not answer except to exit his chambers and confront the two men – a Praetorian captain and his second.

“What do we know?” he asked as he strode past, forcing them to move in order to make their report.

They matched his stalking pace and the captain replied, “Reports are still coming in, but it looks like the rebels are staging a mortar attack on the skimmer hangars from somewhere in the hills south of the palace.”

Hamish whirled on the captain with a growl and slammed his forearm into the man’s chest, smashing him into the wall and driving the air out of him. Mortar from several stone blocks was shaken free in a cloud of grit and dust.

“The rebellion is dead!” he shouted as his captain gasped for air in his anger-contorted face. “Their leaders are imprisoned, their forces routed not two days ago! So who the f—“

The tower stairs shook with the force of another explosion. Hamish dropped his audience of one and moved to the nearest window. The tertiary hangar was in flames, pieces of it silhouetted in the sky falling with the rain.

Hamish turned from the window and clenched his fists, trying to level out his rage in order to be able to speak without screaming. It took him a few seconds, his hands working until they were level and steady along with his voice.

“The third and sixth centuries are engaged in exercises beyond these hills. Order them to scour forward towards the palace. Send the Praetorian Guard to shore up the defense of the hangars. Leave enough men here to ensure the Emperor’s security. Recall the skimmer patrols and send them to bolster security here, not back to the hangar.”

His hand reached back and slowly drew his runesword from its place on his back. “Who is in charge at the hangars?”

“P-Praefectus Eward, Dominus,” the captain stammered out.

“Very well. Inform Eward that I will be joining him presently, and then carry out your orders.”

“Yes, Dominus,” the man replied before he and his second bowed and made a hasty retreat down the stairs. Hamish watched them go with cold derision before beginning to incant the words of power that would form his translocation ring and take him to the hangars.

* * * * *

The attack had been brutally efficient. The second and third hangars were a complete loss, as was the men and material being housed within. The primary hangar had so far escaped a direct hit but the mortar rounds continued to fall with a regularity that continued to infuriate Dominus.

Since his arrival, Hamish had managed the centurions’ efforts into two fronts, battling the fire and anti-mortar defense. By withholding his reprisal sortie he had hoped to keep the hidden attackers attacking and not fleeing. The counter-battery engineers had pinpointed their general location in the hills and the forces of the third and sixth centuries were flanking them. If his strategy worked, this would be over soon.

“Report,” Hamish said to the decarus who had come running up to him.

The non-commissioned officer bowed quickly and reported in clipped military precision. “Tribune Mattus of the sixth reports that he has engaged and eliminated the enemy.” Focusing for a moment on the sounds of the night, Hamish realized the mortar shells had stopped falling. He nodded in semi-satisfaction and waved for the man to continue his report.

“Dominus, the Tribune reports that the enemy was only a three-man force of level two engineers. The mortars are MFD-4 units, wired and operated remotely by bioptic computer.”

“What?” Hamish studied the man but could see that he had no answers. He walked out of his command bunker and stood on the smooth, wet ground, watching his centurions work the fires.

Automated? He studied the hangar ruins. A dozen patrol craft, maybe thrice as many men, all easily replaced.

It hadn’t been the most valuable target from a strategic perspective, but the hangars were a soft target and made a tempting choice from a political standpoint for a rebellion that had been cut short and needed to show the populace it still lived.

And yet… Hamish could see the lights of the third and sixth as their mobile infantry swept across the hillside. The attack had drawn them north, but the land they had occupied previously had no strategic value if this had been a feint to draw them off.

A Praetorian joined him on the hangar field. “Dominus,” he said with a bow. “The Praetorians supplementing hangar forward security have been recalled to assist the remainder of our forces at the secondary hangar fire.”

Hamish gave a confused, “What?” He looked out at the perimeter and saw two score Praetorian Guard double-timing in formation towards the hangar fires. Where they still burned he quickly counted at least as many more fighting the flames. The dawn of panicked realization upon his face blossomed as quickly as the explosion in the far distance.

Hamish turned towards the palace, nestled inside the walls to his west. The second highest tower – his tower – was missing its top third. A line of dark smoke trailed off towards the sea from the stubby end jutting into the night sky.

Hamish clenched his fists and let go a primal scream. The runesword on his back flared a brilliant bluish-white. Everything and everyone within fifty feet of him instantly flash-froze, was covered in seconds with several inches of frost, and then shattered into small pieces with the explosive, unbridled release of his cold, hateful will.

* * * * *

“What do we know?” Hamish asked the cadre of Science Guild technicians assembled in front of him. His voice was slow and deliberate, and spoke in volumes about how bad the day was going for him.

Unsurprisingly, none of the techs jumped at the chance to speak for the group. Eventually the lead technician for Project Venturius spoke up. It was, after all, his project that made all this possible.

“A group of six rebels, including both the Princess and Doctor Nine, forced their way into the project laboratory. With most of the Praetorian Guard at the hangars or protecting the Emperor security was minimal and the early hour duty schedule is fairly light. They coerced the technician on duty to cycle the apparatus and used it to escape. The targeting program--”

The speaker was interrupted by a man who came walking into the lab area from a side door, apparently unaware of the debriefing taking place given his relaxed manner and loud, obnoxious tone.

“Hey, guys! You are not going to believe what I just had to suffer through. This Praetorian stooge just grabbed me in the foyer and erkk—“

Hamish spat words of power through gritted teeth, his jaw working in seething anger. A hand, fingers outstretched, was reaching towards the man now held fast by his rune magic. Slowly, his fingers curled into a fist. As they did, the man’s body compressed. Bones snapped, flesh rended, and an eyeball popped free of the man’s head to bounce across the floor. The gaggle of Science Guild members looked on in horror as one of their own was rendered not three feet from them into a wet, reddish-purple spherical mass roughly a foot in diameter that gurgled and bubbled in several places.

The Dominus grunted with impatient anger and flicked his hand towards the far wall. The fleshy wad flew there to splat against the bulkhead and then fall to the floor with a moist, meaty thud. A bright red pattern adorned the wall like odd modern grisly art.

Hamish turned back to the techs and said, somewhat less tensely now, “You were saying? What was the destination entered into the targeting computer?”

The lot of them were still staring at the stain on the far wall, mouths open in shock.

“Hey!”

The barked word made them jump in place, and now their attention shifted quickly from their Dominus to the stain and back again. The lead technician managed, while seemingly fixated on the spreading ooze on the floor of the lab. “Uh… uh… uh… yes, I was saying, um, the, ah, the targeting program had been scrambled in a way we’ve yet to figure out. Only the, uh, the technician who, um, operated the apparatus would know the exact destination. Sir! Ah, sir.”

Hamish sighed. It was like herding cats getting these fools to focus. “And where is this technician?”

In unison, the heads of the assembled technicians turned to Hamish, and then turned to the freshly dead thing on the floor.

Hamish’s eyes closed and his head swayed a bit before he palmed his face. After a moment of self-pity he turned the palm around towards the technicians and pointed at them.

“Find them. I don’t care what you have to do, but find them.”

“But, sir,” the lead technician answered back, “you know the nature of the project.” He shrugged. “They could be literally anywhere in five dimensions. It would take the entire Science Guild working round the clock a dozen years just to…”

He trailed off as Hamish stalked right up to him. Hamish got right in the man’s face and looked down into his eyes as he spoke with a calm, but clearly provoked tone.

“Tell me… do you have a family?”

The scientist swallowed nervously and stuttered, “Y-Y-yes, Dominus. A w-w-wife and two daughters, thirteen and nine.”

Hamish nodded. Without moving he barked, “Praeorian!” One of his elite guard came into his peripheral vision as his eyes continued to bore into the technician’s own.

“Dominus.” A bow.

“Bring this man’s wife to my private chambers and hold her there.”

The guard seemed at a loss. “Yes, sir. But, sir… your chambers… the tower…”

Hamish turned his head towards the soldier and yelled, “Just bring her to me, damn you! I don’t care where I am.”

“Yes, sir!” the Praetorian ripped off before dashing from the room.

Hamish slowly turned back to address the fear in Project Venturius’ chief scientist’s eyes.

“I am going to rape your wife,” he spoke quietly, in an eerie calm which, for all the import it carried might have ben an announcement of what he was having for lunch. “I will not tell her why, I’ll let you do that afterwards. Find the rebels by this time tomorrow or I will find your nine year old and rape her, too.”

When he could see the terrible understanding in the other man’s eyes, Hamish turned and made to leave. He was interrupted by another of soldier entering from the great hall. This one bore the insignia of the Emperor’s personal guard.

“Dominus,” the man bowed and saluted. “Our Lord Emperor demands an update on your progress in recapturing the escaped rebel prisoners.”

Of course he does. “I am the Emperor’s humble servant. I hasten to comply.”

Hamish walked to the audience chamber, leaving off his ritual of translocation. He needed the time to contemplate the chances that he would be a red stain himself in a scant few minutes.