Speakers hitherto unseen upon the topmost parts of the chambers ceilings suddenly flocked to life; from all around (surround sound you might say) the blaring tunes of brass instruments launched into life in a fanfare of musical grandeur - the sounds of trumpets, trombones and more filled the place as if there were a marching band present in the room itself. This was swiftly joined by strings and, perhaps most odd of all, the wheezing drones of Drookian bagpipes until it reached a crescendo of noise... Then fell once more into utter silence.

After a crackle of static, a voice one may find in the robotic throat of a servitor or floating servo-skull made itself known.

"[b]Welcome honoured guests to the Windsor sweet, please be upstanding for the arrival of Rogue Trader Sir Edmund Hildred Livingstone of the Livingstone Dynasty.[/b]"

The first figure to enter the room as the doors slid open was [b]not[/b] surprisingly Livingstone himself, no, this was a male figure approximatley six-feet-and-four-inches in height, his back ramrod straight and his broad frame filled out with hard-earned muscle. Clad in the scarlet uniform of the Praetorian Guard regiments, three white chevrons showing the rank of Sergeant on one sleeve, the polished boots stepped into the soft carpet of the room and were followed by a sweeping glance from the glinting green eyes of a professional killer. Beneath the mutton-chops and moustache of brown hair that worked their way over his face, Sergeant Richard Williams allowed himself a brief smile, taking off his stunningly white pith helmet and placing it beneath one arm before standing aside and speaking out into the corridor for a moment.

A brief pause passed before the second individual made their way into the room, slate grey eyes instantly assessing the room and those inside it, bushy white brows rising and the glorious white moustache twitching slightly, the Rogue Trader visually disappointing to say the least; Edmund Livingstone was around five-feet-and-seven-inches-tall, his head covered in a puff of white hair combed over to one side, dressed from head-to-toe in a kahki shirt, a pair of khaki shorts that revealed his knobby knees, and then a pair of long white hose rolled down to his khaki walking boots. In one hand he carried a pith helmet similar to his military counterpart, and in the other a black and brass-ended walking cane. Over his eyes were a pair of round brass-rimmed spectacles perched on his nose.

"Gentlemen," came his reedy voice as he moved past them and toward the projector at the other end of the room, Williams following at the usual distance for a bodyguard, "please take a seat, take some food and drink, and make yourselves comfortable."

With leisurely but measured movements he took his place next to the projector and produced a clay pipe from a breast pocket, fingers working quickly to fill the bowl with 'bacco and ignite it in time for a long inhalation.

"Thank you all for presenting yourselves here; I am Edmund Livingstone and, since you have made your mark, I am alos now your employer."

Even as he spoke it was obvious that his mind was processing what he was seeing - aspects such as Gustaves torn uniform, Maxies obvious drunkenness and Rupert's simple prescence - his breaths producing a thicker cloud of smoke about him.

"In case it was not obvious, you are to form something of a 'retinue' about me... although I do so dislike that term. I believe 'team' or 'group' would be more appropriate. Any matter, you each of you possess skills, abilities or pasts which make you more valuable to me than your average press-ganged drone."

Williams stood stock still on the periphary of his charge, taking in everything in silence as Livingstone leant against his cane and allowed an expression or earnest honesty to wash over his features.

"I will be honest, genetlemen, I am mandated by the God-Emperor himself to travel to the farthest reaches of the galaxy and beyond. Where I go there are mutants, there are heretics and there are xenos; while I do not deal with all of them, of course, but if you are of a particularly religious upbringing I implore you to make yourself known."

A further pause and more leaning, with a slight swaying, it was clear that Livingtone was only just getting into his stride.

"I have seen things you people would not believe, I have hunted Tyranid bio-creatures through glacial wastelands in order to claim it's skull. I have founded colonies in the name of the God-Emperor on the edges of known the Milky Way. I have fought Greenskins larger than three men standing atop one another, and I have seen warp trickery that would melt the minds of lesser-willed men."

The holoprojector took this moment to turn itself on, the picture flung up showing a smiling younger Livingstone in what appeared to be a trophy gallery; on the walls behind him were the skulls of all manner of creatures, from sleek Eldar heads to square Orkoid skulls, to saurian Tarellian craniums and blatently obvious humanoid heads.

"We will be going beyond the reaches of the Imperium and into places unknown, uncharted and full of hazards and dangers. If you are of a weak composition, or simply wish to retract your contracts, then speak up now... Or, should you have any questions before we get underway, I shall give you a moment to ask."