Squarehammer looms behind Geron, his bulk easily allowing him to interpose himself between his master and anyone approaching if necessary.

Geron meanwhile is looking around in disgust. His robes, gloves, and mask might stand out less on a world like this, but he's still got a unique outfit. Equal parts mad preacher and Rogue Trader.

"What a filthy place, one wonders how anyone here can stand to live like this. I should hope there's some beauty to be found, even a replica of the Imperial Palace might make it look worse by ruining the aesthetics. Oh if only there were something worth gazing upon."

He motions and an attendant rushes up with a mirror. Geron admires his reflection for a moment before replying to Vael.

"I didn't feel properly inspired. Some swampy thing appeared, bewitched a few crew members, befouled the deck, and then refused my generous hospitality and left. I was so upset, you would not believe it."

He lightly sinks the sharp parts of his glove into his shoulder, savoring the pain as he remembers his newest grudge.

"And we might need a new Navigator soon. Our current one is planning a mutiny."

Well at the very least she insulted him, and those are synonymous in Geron's book.