Shas’Vre Sa’cea Bas’tar
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Rogue Traders who have encountered the Tau have vast and conflicting opinions about them. The more mercantile find them to be boring but reliable; the perfect trade partners.
The more aggressive find them brave, but naïve; the perfect prey.
The more subtle find them irritating idealists, and impossible to bribe. But of course everyone has their price. And some have their breaking point.
Enter Shas’vre Sa’cea Bas’tar. A loyal firewarrior. Or once was. We will call him Bas’tar. Or, for more human tongues, the Blue Bastard.
The Tau Empire can be an enticing place to a lowly Imperial citizen. It promises equality, prosperity, and freedom. Freedom from the Imperial Creed. Freedom from a life of toil and oppression. Freedom from the light of the Astronomicon.
Of course, freedom is a relative term, and those wastrels and mongrels who deny the faith eventually come to regret their decision. Whether it be the slow realization that an alien master plays by alien rules, or the quick realization of a guardsman’s boot pushing their skull into the dirt.
It is almost unheard of for a betrayal in the other direction. For a Tau to decide that his empire is too small. For a Tau to decide that he can make a great deal of money by betraying the principles drilled into him since birth. But any mind can be changed. Eventually. Conquered by conviction. Conquered through force. Or conquered by the coin.
For years, Bas’tar watched the backs of Water Caste merchants as they did their business with Imperial and Xenos traders. He watched his countrymen be swindled and fooled by mischievous Kroot and unscrupulous Eldar. He drank amsec with Imperial mercenaries, laughing amongst crates of merchandise destined for forgotten worlds, and fought bravely against pirates of all description. He began to forget his training. He began to forget his place. He began to wonder at the injustice of being a fire warrior, being just another body to die in front of a gun. Another cog in the great machine called empire. And he began to envy the freedom of the merchants he saw. The pirates. The Rogue Traders. The Kroot mercenaries. Slowly he began to forget the greater good. And he began to amass a fortune.
Bas’tar made his own deals. Starting with card games in the cargo hold, he moved to weapons trading, then narcotics. Soon he was making investments on trade missions, brokering high interest investments in illegal mining and mercenary contracts for the Kroot.
He took a liking to finery. He wore Exodite furs and Imperial jewelry. Rolled and smoked iho in thick stogies. People knew his wealth and came to fear him. The expressionless face of a fire warrior, so used to combat and pain, made him an impenetrable negotiator, and a terrifying opponent.
The next step was to find a patron. A place to expand his business. He left the water caste, taking a considerable amount of their cargo with him. He then booked passage to Domilcus Station, searching for one of the most powerful Rogue Traders in the Pegasus Gulf.
