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SONG — SIR JOSEPH

When I was a lad I served without fault
As office boy in a parchment vault.
I cleaned the windows and I swept the floor,
And I polished up the handle of the big front door.
I made that handle so very neat
That now I am the Ruler of the Sector Fleet!

ALL. He made that handle so very neat
That now he is the Ruler of the Sector Fleet!

As office boy I gave a bribe
That netted me the post of a junior scribe.
I served the writs with a smile so bland,
And I filled out my forms in a big round hand.
And every form I filled complete,
So that now I am the Ruler of the Sector Fleet!

ALL. And every form he filled complete,
So that now he is the Ruler of the Sector Fleet!

In serving writs I made such a name
That an articled scribe I soon became;
With practice too I became quite astute
At the pass examinations of the Institute,
So many tests did I repeat
That now I am the Ruler of the Sector Fleet!

ALL. So many tests did he repeat
That now he is the Ruler of the Sector Fleet!

Of scholastic lore I acquired such a grip
That I finally broke free of my indentureship.
And that indentureship, I ween,
Was the only ship that I ever had seen.
With ignorance I was replete
And now I am the Ruler of the Sector Fleet!

ALL. With ignorance he was replete
And now he is the Ruler of the Sector Fleet!

I had such a minimal attention span
That I was nominated as a Councilman
I always voted at the nobles’ call,
And I never thought of thinking for myself at all.
I thought so little with a mind so indiscreet
That they put me as the Ruler of the Sector Fleet!

ALL. He thought so little with a mind so indiscreet
That they put him as the Ruler of the Sector Fleet!

Now servants all, whoever you may be,
If you want to rise to the top of the tree,
If your soul isn't fettered to an office stool,
Be careful to be guided by this golden rule —
Stick close to your desks and always drag your feet,
And you all may be Rulers of the Sector Fleet!

ALL. Stick close to your desks always drag your feet,
And you all may be Rulers of the Sector Fleet!

SIR JOSEPH. You've a remarkably fine crew, Captain Corcoran.
CAPT. It is a fine crew, Sir Joseph.
SIR JOSEPH. (examining a very young midshipman). A Imperial voidsman is a splendid fellow, Captain Corcoran.
CAPT. A splendid fellow indeed, Sir Joseph.
SIR JOSEPH. I hope you treat your crew kindly, Captain Corcoran.
CAPT. Indeed I hope so, Sir Joseph.
SIR JOSEPH. Never forget that they are the bulwarks of Imperial greatness, Captain Corcoran.
CAPT. So I have always considered them, Sir Joseph.
SIR JOSEPH. No bullying, I trust — no strong language of any kind, eh?
CAPT. Oh, never, Sir Joseph.
SIR JOSEPH. What, never?
CAPT. Hardly ever, Sir Joseph. They are an excellent crew, and do their work thoroughly without it.
SIR JOSEPH. Don't patronise them, sir — pray, don't patronise them.
CAPT. Certainly not, Sir Joseph.
SIR JOSEPH. That you are their captain is an accident of birth. I cannot permit these noble fellows to be patronised because an accident of birth has placed you above them and them below you.

CAPT. I am the last person to insult an Imperial rating, Sir Joseph.
SIR JOSEPH. You are the last person who did, Captain Corcoran. Desire that splendid seaman to step forward.

IGNATIUS IRON-EYE steps forward

SIR JOSEPH. No, no, the other splendid voidsman.
CAPT. Voidsman... Frederic, was it? Three paces to the front – march!
SIR JOSEPH. (sternly) If what?
CAPT. I beg your pardon — I don't think I understand you.
SIR JOSEPH. If you please.
CAPT. Oh, yes, of course. If you please. (FREDERIC steps forward.)
SIR JOSEPH. You're a remarkably fine fellow.
FRED. Yes, your grace.
SIR JOSEPH. And a first-rate voidsman, I'll be bound
FRED. Sir, I am but a few weeks at my station, though I do try.
SIR JOSEPH. Can you dance a hornpipe?
FRED. No, your grace
SIR JOSEPH. That's a pity: all sailors should dance hornpipes. I will teach you one this evening, after dinner. Now tell me — don't be afraid — how does your captain treat you, eh?
FRED. There’s not a better captain in the fleet, your grace.
ALL. Aye; Aye!
SIR JOSEPH. Good. I like to hear you speak well of your commanding officer; I daresay he don't deserve it, but still it does you credit. Can you sing?
FRED. I can hum a few common tunes, your grace.
SIR JOSEPH. Then hum this at your leisure. (Giving him loose music.) It is a song that I have composed for the use of the Imperial Navy, though it will suit this crew well too. It is designed to encourage independence of thought and action in the lower branches of the service, and to teach the principle that a Imperial sailor is any man's equal, excepting mine, of course. Now, Seneschal Brown, a word with you in your cabin, on a tender and sentimental subject.
SEN. Aye, aye, Sir Joseph. (Crossing)
CAPT. Boatswain, in commemoration of this joyous occasion, see that extra grog is served out to the ship's company at seven bells.
BOAT. Beg pardon. If what, your honour?
CAPT. If what? I don't think I understand you.
BOAT. If you please, your honour.
CAPT. What!

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SIR JOSEPH. The gentleman is quite right. If you please.
CAPT. (shuffles uneasily)
SEN. (stamping his foot impatiently). If you please!
SIR JOSEPH. For I hold with men like these
The expression, "if you please",
A particularly gentlemanly tone implants.
REL. And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!
And so do his sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!

Exeunt SIR JOSEPH'S and his ENTOURAGE OF RELATIONS, CAPTAIN and SENESCHAL

BOAT. Ah! Sir Joseph's true gentleman; courteous and considerate to the very humblest.
FRED. True, Boatswain, but we are not the very humblest. Sir Joseph has explained our true position to us. As he says, a Imperial servant is any man's equal excepting his, and if Sir Joseph says that, is it not our duty to believe him?
CREW. Well spoke, well spoke!
IGNT. You're on a wrong tack, and so is he. He means well, but he don't know. In the Grim Darkness of the Far Future, equality's out of the question.
CREW. Horrible, horrible!
BOAT. Ignatius Iron-Eye, if you go for to infuriate this here ship's company too far, I won't answer for being able to hold 'em in. I'm shocked! that's what I am — shocked! To deny the words of a gentleman as Sir Joseph is, well, it beggars belief!
FRED. Men, my mind is made up. Mabel has expressed her love for me, and tonight I go to propose unto her.
CREW. Aye, aye!
FRED. Is not my love as good as another's? Is not my heart as true as another's? Have I not hands and eyes and ears and limbs like another?
CREW. Aye, aye!
FRED. It is true I lack birth...
BOAT. You’ve a berth aboard this very ship.
FRED. Well said — I had forgotten that. Messmates — what do you say? Do you approve my determination?
CREW. We do!
IGNT. I fething well don’t!
BOAT. What is to be done with this here hopeless chap? Let us sing him the song that Sir Joseph has kindly composed for us. Perhaps it will bring this here miserable creation to a proper state of mind.

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SONG — ALL, exempting IGNATIUS IRON-EYE

An Imper’l man is a soaring soul,
As free as one can be,
His energetic fist should be ready to resist
A all signs of heresy.
His nose should pant and his lip should curl,
His cheeks should flame and his brow should furl,
His bosom should heave and his heart should glow,
And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow.

CHORUS. — His nose should pant, etc.

His eyes should flash with an inborn fire,
His brow with scorn be wrung;
He never should bow down to a domineering frown,
Or the tang of a tyrant tongue.
His foot should stamp and his throat should growl,
His hair should twirl and his face should scowl;
His eyes should flash and his breast protrude,
And this should be his customary attitude — (pose).

CHORUS. — His foot should stamp, etc.

All dance off save for FREDERIC, who leans pensively against a console

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Enter MABEL

MABEL. It is useless. Sir Joseph's attentions nauseate me. I know that he is a truly great and good man, for he told me so himself, but to me he seems tedious, fretful, and dictatorial. (Sees FREDERIC.) Frederic! Oh! (Overcome by emotion.)
FRED. None other than your poor rescued Frederic.
MABEL. (aside). How my heart beats! (Aloud) And why poor, Frederic?
FRED. I am poor in the essence of happiness, lady, rich only in never-ending unrest. In me there meet a combination of antithetical elements which are at eternal war with one another. Driven hither by objective influences, thither by subjective emotions; wafted one moment into blazing day, by mocking hope, plunged the next into the darkness Infernal of tangible despair, I am but a living ganglion of irreconcilable antagonisms. I hope I make myself clear, lady?

MABEL. Perfectly. (aside.) His simple eloquence goes to my heart. Oh, if I dared — but no, the thought is madness! (Aloud.) Dismiss these foolish fancies, they torture you but needlessly. Come, make one effort.
FRED. (aside). I will — one. (Aloud.) Mabel, my savior Mabel!
MABEL. (indignantly). Sir!
FRED. Even though the Emperor’s wrath and all the weapons of Mars were launched at the head of the audacious mortal whose lips, unhallowed by relationship, dared to breathe that precious word, yet would I breathe it once, and then perchance be silent evermore. Mabel, in one brief breath I will concentrate the hopes, the doubts, the anxious fears of three weary weeks. Mabel, I am a former Traitor, now a voidsman of low rank, and I love you!

MABEL. Audacity unparalleled! (aside.) Oh, my heart, my beating heart! (Aloud.) This unwarrantable presumption on the part of a common voidsman! (Aside.) Common! oh, the irony of the word! (Crossing, aloud.) Oh, sir, you forget the disparity in our ranks and births.
FRED. I forget nothing, haughty lady. I love you desperately, my life is oncemore in your hands – I lay it at your feet! Give me hope, and what I lack in education and polite accomplishments, that I will endeavour to acquire. Drive me to despair, and in death alone I shall look for consolation. I am proud and cannot stoop to implore. I have spoken and I wait your word.
MABEL. You shall not wait long. Your proffered love I haughtily reject. Go, sir, and learn to cast your eyes on some underhive wench in your own poor rank — they should be lowered before a Seneschal’s daughter.

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DUET -- MABEL and FREDERIC

MABEL. Refrain, servant bizarre,
Your suit from pressing,
Remember what you are,
And whom addressing!
(Aside.) I'd laugh my rank to scorn
In union holy,
Were he more highly born
Or I more lowly!
FRED. Proud lady, have your way,
Unfeeling beauty!
You speak and I obey,
It is my duty!
I am the lowest ranked
That sails the darkness,
And you are flanked
By unsurpassed brightness!
(Aside.) My heart with anguish torn
Bows down before her,
She laughs my love to scorn,
Yet I adore her!

Repeat refrain, ensemble, then exit MABEL

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DUET – IGNATIUS IRON-EYE and FREDERIC

FRED. Can I survive this overbearing
Or live a life of mad despairing,
My proffered love despised, rejected?
No, no, it's not to be expected!

From this day forth I will not rest
Until I well conclude my quest
An officer of rank I’ll be
Before she consents to marry me

IGNATIUS IRON-EYE enters unseen

IGNT. She spurns your suit? Oho! Oho!
I told you so, I told you so.

FRED. Shall I submit? Are am I a slave?
Love comes alike to high and low—
Imperial servants true and brave,
Shall I now stoop to insult? No!

IGNT. You must submit, you are a slave;
A lady she! Oho! Oho!
You lowly servant must behave,
She spurns you now — I told you so!

ALL. But...

FRED.----- IGNT.

An Imper’l man is a soaring soul ----- An Imper’l man is a captive soul
As free as one can be,----- Who never will be free,
His energetic fist----- His energetic fist
Should be ready to resist -----Should be ready to resist
All signs of heresy.----- A new-found Traitor’s plea.

ALL. His nose should pant and his lip should curl,
His cheeks should flame and his brow should furl,
His bosom should heave and his heart should glow,
And his fist be ever ready for a knock-down blow.

both pose

END OF ACT II

awesome

Holy fucking shit

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ACT III

SCENE.–A deserted chapel by starlight. Gothic windows at back SENESCHAL STANLEY BROWN discovered seated pensively, in an attitude of prayer.


SOLO – SENESCHAL


Tormented with the anguish dread
Of falsehood unatoned,
I lay upon my sleepless bed,
And tossed and turned and groaned.
The man who finds his conscience ache
Must grind his heart alone;
And as I lay in bed awake,
I thought “I must atone”.

And yet my prayer
doubles despair;
My mind is set aflame
My daughter true,
Loves someone who
Has no title or name.

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Enter LORD HIGH ADMIRAL JOSEPH, pensively

SOLO – LORD HIGH ADMIRAL JOSEPH

Tormented with unanswered love
And flattery disdained,
I filled my mind with thoughts whereof,
My feelings half-explained
The man who finds love tossed back
Must grind his heart alone;
And as I lay with mind so black,
I thought “I must atone”.

And yet my prayer
doubles despair;
My mind is set aflame
My betrothed true,
Loves someone who
None can presently name.

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IGNATIUS IRON-EYE enters stealthily


IGNT. (Aside.) But there is one who can.
SEN. You there! Ah, Sir Joseph! I did not see you come in. Are you troubled tonight as well?
SIR JOSEPH. Yes, yes. I have spent hours conversing with your daughter, but she still is reluctant to give me firm commitment. The fact is, that although I have urged my suit with as much eloquence as is consistent with an official utterance, I have done so hitherto without success. How do you account for this?
SEN. (aside.) What shall I say? (Aloud.) No, no. It is, perhaps, your exalted rank which keeps her from expressing the full extent of her emotions.
IGNT. (revealing himself) Or perhaps not!
SEN. You?
IGNT. Aye, me. The hatred I bear for you, Seneschal Brown, is far less than that which I bear for your daughter’s lover.
SIR JOSEPH. Me?
IGNT. No, not you sir.
SIR JOSEPH. I am relieved to hear it. But tell me, why do you say you hate the Seneschal.
IGNT. It is because of him that I am bound to this thrice-cursed ship oncemore.

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SONG – IGNATIUS IRON-EYE

When first I landed in Footfall boys, I went upon a spree,
My hard earned cash was spent right fast, I got drunk as drunk could be,
Before me money was all gone, or spent on some old whore,
I made up me mind and was well inclined to go to warp no more.

ALL. No more, no more, To go to warp no more,
He made up his mind and was well inclined to go to warp no more.

That night I spent with Sally Brown too drunk to roll in bed,
Me clothes was new me, money was too: in the morn with them she fled.
An feeling sick I left her bed and crawled along the floor.
A man must be blind to make up his mind to go to warp once more.

ALL. Once more, once more, to go to warp once more,
A man must be blind to make up his mind to go to warp once more.

And as I staggered down highway and lane I met Mr. Senschenal Brown.
Well I asked him neat if he'd stand the treat; he looks me up and down.
He said "The last time that yer was paid off, you chalked me up no score.
But I'll give yes a chance and I'll take yer advance, and send yer to warp once more."

ALL. Once more, once more, I'll send you to warp once more,
I'll give yes a chance and I'll take yer advance, and I'll send yer to warp once more."

They shipped me aboard of this thrice-cursed ship bound for uncharted Expanse.
I was whipped to the bone and as cold as a stone and as I swabbied the Emperor’s lance.
Though how I did fare with no void-rated gear, me money was lost to a whore,
T'was then I swore that when I’s on shore I'd go to warp no more.

ALL. No more, no more, he’d go to warp no more,
T'was then he swore that when he’s a shore he would go to warp no more.

(At each curse or lewd phrase, SIR JOSEPH covers his ears or gasps)

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SIR JOSEPH. Really, sir. I have often been told that voidsmen are prone to profanity and lewd abuse of Low Gothic, but I put it down to supercilious rumour-mongering until today. You must learn to control your language!
IGNT. You’d curse too if you had a face like mine.
SIR JOSEPH. Quite possibly yes, but I don’t, and from this day forward I shall thank the Emperor daily for such a blessing.
SEN. But you said you knew whom my daughter pines for, did you not, or was your sole purpose in coming here to sing randy songs in a holy place?

TRIO – IGNATIUS IRON-EYE, SIR JOSEPH, and the SENESCHAL


IGNT. My friends, I've important information,
About what else you simply can infer;
Regarding certain intimate relations,
Sing hey, the merry maiden and the cur.
ALL. The merry maiden and the cur.

SEN. Good fellow, in conundrums you are speaking,
Sing hey, a mystic voidsman you are, sir;
The answer to them vainly I am seeking;
Sing hey, the merry maiden and the cur.
ALL. The merry maiden and the cur.

IGNT. Admiral, your young lady is a-sighing,
Sing hey, you surely must concur,
For her attentions is poor Fredrick vying;
Sing hey, the merry maiden and the cur.
ALL. The merry maiden and the cur.

IGNT. Good fellow, you have given timely warning,
Sing hey, the thoughtful voidsman that you are,
I'll talk to Master Fredrick in the morning:
Sing hey, call the Arbites on the cur!

The SENESCHAL produces a whistle

ALL. Call the Arbites on the cur!

Exit IGNATIUS IRON-EYE, laughing

I don't know if you know this OP but about 5 years ago there was a group of people who were trying to write a 40k opera It might have been Horus Heresy specific but I don't remember. If you were part of that, thanks for keeping the dream alive.

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Enter ARBITES marching in single file. They form in line, facing audience.

SONG – PROCTOR, with ARBITES.

When the Traitor bares his steel,
Tarantara! tarantara!
We uncomfortable feel,
Tarantara!
And we find the wisest thing,
Tarantara! tarantara!
Is to slap our chests and sing,
Tarantara!
For when threatened with emeutes,
Tarantara! tarantara!
And your heart is in your boots,
Tarantara!
There is nothing brings it round
Like the trumpet’s martial sound,
Like the trumpet’s martial sound
ALL. Tarantara! tarantara!, etc.

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>>47598269
>>47598331
Thanks!
>>47599164
I wasn't part of that effort. This is all self-written (or, more accurately, self stitched-together-from-comic-operas)

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SEN. Ah the Arbites! Proud Arbites! I have need of your particular services.
PROCTOR. What crime has been committed?
SEN. No, no crime yet, but I fear one is about to be committed.
PROCTOR. Hmm? Treachery and conspiracy aboard? This cannot stand!
SEN. Yes, my dear daughter...
PROCTOR. Is a cultist, yes? Arbites, away!
SEN. No, no, no. She is merely in love with...
PROCTOR. A foul Xenos, yes? Arbites, away!
SEN. Would you listen! She is in love with Frederic, a low-ranked voidsman...
PROCTOR. Who is secretly a witch!
SEN. No!
PROCTOR. A mutant!
SEN. No!
PROCTOR. A heretic!
SEN. No, no. He has, as far as I can tell, committed no crime whatsoever, save that he was once a Traitor.
PROCTOR. Hmm. Could he be a Traitor still?
SEN. I suppose it is possible. But we cannot be sure. I want you...
PROCTOR. To arrest him and toss him into the void!
SEN. No!
SIR JOSEPH. Yes!
SEN. No, sir. He must first be proven guilty of some crime, which is why I wish for you (points at the Arbites) to keep him under close and secretive observation.
PROCTOR. We will. And the moment he shows any signs of deviancy or conspiracy...
SIR JOSEPH. Arrest him and toss him into the void!
ARBITES. Huzzah!

Exeunt SIR JOSEPH and the SENESCHAL

PROCTOR. Our course is clear. It is most distressing to us to be the agents whereby our erring fellow-creatures are deprived of that liberty which is so dear to us all – but we should have thought of that before we joined the force.
ARBITES. We should!
PROCTOR. It is too late now!
ARBITES. It is!

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SONG – PROCTOR.

PROCTOR. When a Traitor’s not engaged in his employment –
ARBITES. His employment,
PROCTOR. Or maturing his traitorous little plans –
ARBITES. Little plans,
PROCTOR. His capacity for innocent enjoyment –
ARBITES. ’Cent enjoyment
PROCTOR. Is just as great as any honest man’s –
ARBITES. Honest man’s.
PROCTOR. Our feelings we with difficulty smother –
ARBITES. ’Culty smother
PROCTOR. When constabulary duty’s to be done –
ARBITES. To be done.
PROCTOR. Ah, take one consideration with another –
ARBITES. With another,
PROCTOR. An Arbites’s lot is not a happy one.
ARBITES. Ah, when constabulary duty’s to be done, to be done,
An Arbites’s lot is not a happy one, happy one.

Exit ARBITES

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Enter SIR JOSEPH momentarily, and with excessive caution

RECITATIVE – SIR JOSEPH

SIR JOSEPH. At last, alone. My brain still churns with the thought
Of losing fair Mabel to such a cur!
My exalted rank and wealth cannot persuade her
And I fear I lack the eloquence needed to do aught

But yet, there is a path still open to me
If I cannot convince her with means natural
Perhaps a power unnatural can appeal
Or produce more eloquent entreaty.

I have a book, given to me long ago, which contains dark and terrible secrets forgotten by mankind.

(draws book from pocket)


These black utterances here will, it is said, call forth a creature and bind it to my will. Thought I dread speaking them, my path is blocked on all other sides.

(he sprinkles a few powders, stamps in a circle, and makes complicated gestures)

SIR JOSEPH. (clears throat) Ni!

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(crash of trumpets and general alarum: SIR JOSEPH staggers back )

DUET –SIR JOSEPH, and MEPHISTOPHELIA
(MEPHISTOPHELIA rises slowly from centre stage, wreathed in vapours )


MEPHI. In the velvet darkness
Of the blackest night
Burning bright, there’s a guiding star,
No matter what or who you are;

MEPHI. There’s a light
BOTH. Over by the Cadian gate.
MEPHI. There’s a light
BOTH. Burning with unbounded hate.
MEPHI. There’s a light
BOTH. In the darkness of everybody’s life

SIR JOSEPH. Darkness must go down the river of night’s dreaming.
Flow Morphia slow, let the dreaded light come streaming
Into my life.
Into my life.

MEPHI. There’s a light
BOTH. Over by the Cadian gate.
MEPHI. There’s a light
BOTH. Burning with unbounded hate.
MEPHI. There’s a light
BOTH. In the darkness of everybody’s life.

MEPHI. Who calls Mephistophelia?
SIR JOSEPH. (quiet coughing and spluttering )
MEPHI. Oh, it’s you, Sir Joseph, Lord High Admiral. I didn’t see you there. Well, stand up. Let’s have a look at you.
SIR JOSEPH. Back, oh foul daemon!
MEPHI. Now, that’s hardly polite. After all, you did call me. Still, if I must go... (she turns from him)
SIR JOSEPH. No, wait, stay.
MEPHI. If what?
SIR JOSEPH. ...If... you please, oh foul daemon.
MEPHI. That’s a bit better, I suppose.

Ok, I'm heading out for a bit. Keep this relatively well bumped for me.

>>47600082
Thanks guys...

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RECITATIVE – SIR JOSEPH

Oh daemon of the blackest pit I charge thee
That thou shall do no harm to me
And indeed, shall produce posthaste
A marriage tween me and lady chaste.

MEPHI. Indeed, there is a change in store for you!


DUET — MEPHISTOPHELIA and SIR JOSEPH.

MEPHI. Things are seldom what they seem,
Madmen held in high esteem;
Traitors loyal to the end;
Servants master’s words do bend.
SIR JOSEPH. (puzzled). Very true,
So they do.
MEPHI. Mutants dwell in every hold;
All that glitters is not gold;
Tech-Priests emotions conceal;
Strangers often truths reveal.

SIR JOSEPH. (puzzled). Yes, I know.
That is so.
Though to catch your drift I'm striving,
It is shady — it is shady;
I don't see at what you're driving,
Warp-spawned lady — Warp-spawned lady.
(Aside.) Stern conviction's o'er me stealing,
That the Warp-spawned lady's dealing
In oracular revealing.

MEPHI. (aside). Stern conviction's o'er him stealing,
That this Warp-spawned lady's dealing
In oracular revealing.
Yes, I know—
That is so!

SIR JOSEPH. But enough of this dissembling. Mabel, eldest and fairest daughter of this vessel’s Seneschal, is betrothed to me and me alone.
MEPHI. True, true.
SIR JOSEPH. Yet she loves another, young Frederic, a voidsman of fair complexion and eloquent speech, whom, I fear, I cannot match, despite our difference in rank.
MEPHI. Yes, yes.
SIR JOSEPH. But I shall be married before the week is out nonetheless! You shall see to it, oh demon of the pit!
MEPHI. I hear and I obey. It is an easy thing to manage. Before the week is out, you shall hear wedding bells ring.
SIR JOSEPH. I am glad to hear it. I go now to make my preparations, and you, begin your hell-spawned plan. Oh Mabel, our match is certain now!

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Exit SIR JOSEPH.

MEPHI. Though my actions may be circuitous, they will bring about his ordered end.

MEPHISTOPHELIA conceals herself in an alcove, out of sight

Enter FREDERIC

SONG – FREDERIC.
(With passion)

Oh Emperor, oh pity me
My heart is truly set upon
A woman that I idolize
Who rejects my proposition.

Without some skills I can’t begin
To gain the ranks to ever equal her
I despair my lot and curse my life
For I am but a lovesick cur.

MEPHI. (concealed) The Emperor has heard your prayer
And sends a wondrous device
To win the one you idolize
These gifted hands will soon suffice

(she appears in angelic garb, bearing two mechanical hands)


With these new hands you can complete
Examinations to gain rank for her
Your life will soon improve a hundredfold
No more will be just a common cur.

FRED. I hear your words, angelic one
I am relieved to see your charms.
MEPHI. Exchange your hands for ones of steel
And you will soon be in her arms.

The hands are exchanged, MEPHISTOPHELIA ascends upwards.
Light streams through the chapel windows as the ship turns to face the sun

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>>47597039
Is this getting archived somewhere?
There needs to be a page on 1d4chan for this.

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>>47601853
Idk, if you'd like to make one, go ahead. I've formatted this damn thing once too many times to go through and re-indent everything.

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>>47601885
'Aight, if I can justify putting off real life for a bit, I might make a start of it in the morning.
Either way, you're posting some good shit here.

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SOLO – FREDERIC.

Oh joy, oh rapture unforeseen,
My troubled path is now serene,
He on the Throne has shown his love
Has hung his ensign high above,
My heart is set ablaze.

With perfect hands and force of will,
I’ll find my Mabel loves me still,
And if I find the maiden coy,
I’ll murmur forth decorous joy,
In dreamy roundelay.

Exit FREDERIC

An alteration of the lighting. Chapel boys come forth and light candles, new linens are laid out, etc.

Enter CREW, CAPTAIN, SENESCHAL, SIR JOSEPH, SIR JOSEPH'S ENTOURAGE OF RELATIONS and ARBITES


CAPT. Now give three cheers, I’ll lead the way
ALL. Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurrah! Hurray!

Enter FREDERIC, in an officer’s uniform, hands gloved

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Ok, this is another good bit coming up, for anyone familiar with FFG's Dark Heresy 1E books.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=kPQE3GfkrOo

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excellent your adoring public demands more

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FRED. I humble, poor, and lowly born,
The meanest in the port division—
The butt of epauletted scorn—
The mark of quarter deck derision—
Have dared to raise my wormy eyes
Above the dust to which you'd mould me
In manhood's glorious pride to rise,
I am Imperial— behold me!

ALL. He is Imperial!

CAPT. He is Imperial!
For he himself has said it,
And it's greatly to his credit,
That he is Imperial!

ALL. That he is Imperial!

CAPT. For he might have been Chaotic,
A dread pirate psychotic,
Or perhaps a Malfian!

ALL. (making the sign of the Aquila) Or perhaps a Malfian!

CAPT. But in spite of all temptations
He exceeds our expectations,
And remains Imperial!

ALL. For in spite of all temptations
He exceeds our expectations,
And remains Imperial!

He remains Impe-e-e-e-e-e-rial!

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CAPT. Voidsman, approach. (FREDERIC approaches and salutes)
FRED. Sir!
CAPT. Your work in the past week has been exceptional. From hymn-composition to file-location to needlework, all the hallmark skills of a true officer of the Fleet are present within you in abundance. I am proud to promote you to Officer of the Watch.
ALL. Huzzah!

SEN. (aside, to the PROCTOR) And you have found no sign of deviance or corruption?
PROCTOR. None at all, sir. In all the hours we have observed him, he has been both diligent, humble, and skilled.
SEN. Well, it is possible that he shall marry Mabel after all. For I would not see her unhappily wed to Sir Joseph. Nonetheless, something does not sit right with me, and I would have you observe him further.
ARBITES. We will!

CAPT. And now to the business of the day. Arbites!
ARBITES. Sir!
CAPT. I have heard reports of pirates in this sector. Be vigilant and at all times prepared for an influx of dread reavers bent on death, desecration, and dismemberment. Patrol the corridors and passageways well, Arbites, for they could be on us at any moment.
ARBITES. Sir!

SONG – PROCTOR, with ARBITES.

REL. Go, ye heroes, go to glory,
Though you die in combat gory,
Ye shall live in song and story.
Go to immortality!
Go to death, and go to slaughter;
Die, and every son and daughter
With their tears your grave shall water.
Go, ye heroes, go and die!

ALL. Go, ye heroes, go and die!

PROCTOR, with ARBITES.

Though to us it’s evident,
Tarantara! tarantara!
These attentions are well meant,
Tarantara!
Such expressions don’t appear,
Tarantara! tarantara!
Calculated men to cheer,
Tarantara!
Who are going to meet their fate
In a highly nervous state.
Tarantara! tarantara! tarantara!
Still to us it’s evident
These attentions are well meant.
Tarantara! tarantara! tarantara!

PROCTOR. We observe too great a stress,
On the risks that on us press,
And of reference a lack
To our chance of coming back.
Still, perhaps it would be wise
Not to harp or criticise,
For it’s very evident
These attentions are well meant.

ARBITES. Yes, it’s very evident
These attentions are well meant, etc.

ENSEMBLE.

CHORUS OF ALL BUT ARBITES. ----- CHORUS OF ARBITES. Go ye heroes, go to glory, etc -----When the foeman bears his steel, etc.

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CAPT. Away, away!
ARBITES. (without moving) Yes, yes, we go.
CAPT. These pirates slay.
ARBITES. Tarantara!
CAPT. Then do not stay.
ARBITES. Tarantara!
CAPT. Then why this delay?
ARBITES. All right, we go.
Yes, forward on the foe!
CAPT. Yes, but you don’t go!
ARBITES. We go, we go
Yes, forward on the foe!
CAPT. Yes, but you don’t go!
ALL. At last they really go!

Exeunt All, in succession, FREDERIC last

END OF ACT III

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Act 4 is not quite done yet, but we'll see if I can finish it before I'm done posting the first part. It's a good one.

ACT IV

SCENE.–A classical frigate’s bridge, deserted.
Enter LORD HIGH ADMIRAL JOSEPH

RECITATIVE.

SIR JOSEPH. Oh, false one, you have deceived me!
MEPHI. (Revealing herself with a flourish) I have deceived you?
SIR JOSEPH. Yes, deceived me! (Denouncing her.)

DUET – SIR JOSEPH and MEPHIOPHELIA.

SIR JOSEPH. You told me you were duty bound!
MEPHI. (calmly) And, master, am I not so?
SIR JOSEPH. And now I see my hopes rebound.
MEPHI. I’m not a one to plot so.
SIR JOSEPH. Upon my innocence you play.
MEPHI. I’m sure it’s not a jot so.
SIR JOSEPH. Your cunning words lead me astray!
MEPHI. Impossible to do so.
SIR JOSEPH. Trait’rous demon, to deceive me,
I who trusted so!
MEPHI. Master, master, don’t desert me!
Hear me, ere you go!

My gifts without reflecting,
Oh, do not be rejecting!

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SIR JOSEPH. And why not? I summon you, I bind you, and for what? My rival is newly promoted by your perfidious plotting, and is set to marry the object of my affection.

MEPHI. Faithless Admiral. You see but a short distance in front of you. My schemes will bring about your marriage, to be sure. I am bound by the chains of my summoning, and can no more rail against them than you can walk in the void unsuited. Admiral, you shall hear wedding bells soon enough!

SIR JOSEPH. I hold you to your word, demon. My patience is almost at an end.

Exit LORD HIGH ADMIRAL JOSEPH

MEPHI. He doubts the power of the Warp? Well, we shall see whose schemes are the more cunning.

Exit MEPHISTOPHELIA

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Variously, enter the ENTOURAGE OF RELATIONS, who prepare as if for a wedding.
Enter CAPTAIN, SENESCHAL, MABEL

SEN. Never mind the why and wherefore,
I have seen his skill therefore,
Though his ranks is rather lowly,
Quite unearthly is his skill,
Though your tastes are mean and flighty
He will his service here fulfil.


ALL. Ring the merry bells of marriage,
Rend the air with warbling wild,
To marry one of our own peerage
With a Seneschal’s own child!
SEN. For a Seneschal’s own daughter
JOS. (scowling) For a Seneschal’s own daughter!
SEN. And a valiant chart-plotter
JOS. (aside). Who I’d dearly like to slaughter!
ALL. Let the air with joy be laden,
Rend with songs the air above,
For the union of a maiden
With the man who owns her love!


SIR JOSEPH. I entreat you one more time, Seneschal Brown. Convince your daughter to abandon this foolish enterprise, and her ill-famed suitor. For never was one so lowly born as Fredric, ex-traitor.

MABEL. Sir, my betrothed’s past is beyond doubt abhorrent, but he has mended his way since, and in all ways is a perfect Imperial citizen. You yourself said that an “Imperial man is a soaring soul.” Well, Fredric’s soul soars most loftily.

SIR JOSEPH. Yes yes, but I did not mean quite so loftily as that! Seneschal Brown, a word.

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All Else Exeunt

SIR JOSEPH. Have you found no sign of corruption upon Fredric? No secret vices? No deviant tendencies?

SEN. Nothing, save for one curious fact.

SIR JOSEPH. Tell me!

SEN. On many a lonely shift, or in hours of quiet contemplation, my servants inform my Fredric is shadowed by a brassy, noisome creature of flesh and metal, whose ocular protrusions constantly, silently, scan his form. Tech-Adept Buttercup is obsessed with him.

SIR JOSEPH. You don’t mean...?

SEN. Nothing of the sort. If the honoured Tech-Adept even has a heart, it would belong to the Deus Mechanicus, and not to some rating. But still, it is curious.

SIR JOSEPH. I will speak with her. Perhaps her gifts have spotted a heresy we have overlooked.

SEN. Hah! I overlook nothing!

Enter TRAITORS, creeping, quite loudly, from all sides

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CHORUS – TRAITORS (very loud)

As Eldar tread,
Upon our prey we steal;
In silence dread,
Our cautious way we feel.
No sound at all,
We never speak a word,
A grot’s foot-fall
Would be distinctly heard –
SEN. Aha, aha! Nothing!

So stealthily the traitor creeps,
While all the voidship soundly sleeps.
Come, friends, who reave the void,
Truce to navigation;
Take another station;
Let’s vary heresy
With a little burglary!
SEN. Aha, aha! Nothing! Nothing!

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Enter Proctor, running

RECITATIVE

PROCTOR. Honoured Sirs! I am sorry to insert myself into a private conference. But I have heard that Traitors have boarded our mighty vessel, and mean to do us grievous injury.
SEN. But that is impossible!
SIR JOSEPH. Yes, impossible!
PROCTOR. Yet, I suspect the Traitors are close.


Chorus of Pirates, resumed while creeping nearer.

We are not coming for plate or gold –
A story Seneschal Stanley’s told –
We seek a penalty fifty-fold,
For Seneschal Stanley’s story.

PROCTOR. They seek a penalty?
TRAITORS. Fifty-fold!
We seek a penalty!
PROCTOR. Fifty-fold!
ALL. They/We seek a penalty fifty-fold,
For Seneschal Stanley’s story.

SIR JOSEPH. (draws his sword and looks around) They come in force, I now can see,
Our obvious course is now – to flee

Exit SENESCHAL, SIR JOSEPH, PROCTOR, at speed

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Ok, the next song is my favorite in the whole opera. It's so easy to rewrite it to be topical. Give it a shot yourself!

https://youtu.be/CWo_3CIcTBQ

It's just fun to write!

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SONG — THE ARCH TRAITOR with CHORUS OF TRAITORS.
As some day it may happen that we put them to a rout,
I’ve got a little list – I’ve got a little list
Of Imperial defenders whom the stars could do without,
And who never would be missed – who never would be missed!

There’s the pious, chaste, and honest and the people of that sort.
The grasping greasy clerics who will constantly extort.
All citizens with head-tubes, and the Imperial Guard.
If I could only have my way they’d have it very hard.
And Sororitas who break your nose rather than be kissed.
They’d none of them be missed, they’d none of them be missed!

TRAITORS. He’s got them on the list, he’s got them on the list
And they’ll none of them be missed, they’ll none of them be missed.

There’s the holy-water-seller and others of his race,
And the pious organist – I’ve got him on the list!
All nobles who their cousins lovingly embrace
They never would be missed – they never would be missed!
The idiot who slanders in a vitriolic tone
All systems he distrusts and RPGs he doesn’t own
And those who cheat at card games with shuffling so sly
All men who “haven’t ‘done it’, but would rather like to try”
And that grey-bearded anomaly, a traditionalist!
I’m sure he’d not be missed, no they’d none of them be missed!

TRAITORS. He’s got them on the list, he’s got them on the list
And they’ll none of them be missed, they’ll none of them be missed.

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There’s the people with pretentious names like “Drizzt” or “Scar” or “Robb”
And the Russ apologist, I’ve got him on the list!
All double agents, triple agents, gangers, monks, and Nobs
They never would be missed, they never would be missed!
All people with high collars or huge pauldrons of all kinds
And Eldar with their wraithbone firmly wedged up their behinds
All half demented Tech-Priests who I all too often see
Inserting mechandentrites where they really shouldn’t be
And citizens who convince themselves to in the Guard enlist,
They’d none of them be missed, no they’d none of them be missed!

TRAITORS. You may put them on the list, you may put them on the list
And they’ll none of them be missed, they’ll none of them be missed

(leering at FREDRIC) But most of all I loathe the fawning, lying hypocrite
A creature of two tendencies and very little wit
Whose practices and preaching are at odds for all to see
A Traitor and a Loyalist of such inconstancy
I care not where, but pick a side, I really must insist.
So I’ve put you on the list, I’ve put you on the list.

TRAITORS. He’s put you on the list, he’s put you on the list
And you’ll sadly not be missed, you’ll sadly not be missed.

ARCH. Fredric, you have become a proper Imperial servant...

FRED. Thank you, it is kind of you to say so.

ARCH. In all aspects but one.

FRED. And what respect is that?

DUET – FRED and MABEL (posing, in chains, clumsily)

For my nose does pant --- For his nose does pant
And my lip does curl --- And his lip does curl
My cheeks do flame – His cheeks do flame
And my brow does furl --- and his brow does furl
My bosom does heave --- his bosom does heave
And my heart is true --- and his heart is true
And I’d rather not have anything to do with you – and he’d rather not have anything to do with you


ARCH. Be that as it may, you have committed a grave hypocrisy. And we cannot abide hypocrisy, can we?

TRAITORS: No, we cannot.

ARCH. For I am a Traitor High!
I cannot tell a lie, a lie

TRAITORS. Hurrah for the Traitor High!

ARCH. You have consorted with the Empyric Powers, and gained favours...

ALL. Favours?

ARCH. Favours of the Warp!

FRED. (recoiling) No, that cannot be. As a proper Imperial citizen, I abhor such heresies with all my soul .

ARCH. Then how came you by those miraculous silver hands, those wonders of artifice, that carried you so swiftly to a high rank?

FRED. You mean?

ARCH. (nods)

FRED. No! Oh no, it cannot be!

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https://youtu.be/C2ODfuMMyss

Enter MEPHISTOPHELIA, in FLAMES. ALL are agast.

SONG – MEPHISTOPHILIA

Infernal fury blazes deep inside me!
Death and destruction!
Death and destruction must surround me!

Have thee betrayed
My sacred orders?
My sacred orders?
Then you will be my champion nevermore!
For if you betray me,
I’ll help thee nevermore!

I’ll help thee nevermore!

Outcast be forever!
Forsaken forever!
A shattered soul forever!
A creature without hope!

Now you must choose – your hands or your position.
If! If!
You dare to defy me
You will die this very hour!

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LAMENT – FREDRIC

Destiny has cheated me
And forced me to decide upon
The woman that I idolize
Or the hands of an automaton!

Without these hands I can’t compete
And gain a rank to ever equal her
But if I lose the, I abandon her
And I’ll be naught but a common cur.

FREDRIC collapses

ARCH. Now you see the fruits of hypocrisy. You professed to be a humble voidsman, but took the easy route to high rank. And now you’ll pay the price. There’s nothing for it.

FRED. Very well. (he thrusts his hands out). Take them, and begone!

MEPHI. (snatches them off) But wait! The hands I take, but there is a further price.

ALL. A further price?

MEPHI. Yes, a further price.

DUET – FREDRIC and MEPHISTOPHILIA

FRED. You told me you were from the Throne!
MEPHI. (slyly) I never did mislead you
FRED. Your true intent you left unknown
MEPHI. I knew it wouldn’t please you
FRED. Upon my innocence you play.
MEPHI. I’m just the sort to plot so.
SIR JOSEPH. And now a price I’ll surely pay!
MEPHI. You really should have thought so.
FRED. Trait’rous demon, to deceive me,
I who trusted so!
MEPHI. Foolish mortal, you amuse me.
I will swiftly go!

FRED. So, I am free?

MEPHI. Not in the slightest. For within one hour, I shall return and claim the soul of Fredric the Rating, Fredric the Traitor, Fredric the Fool!

ALL. (gasping)

MEPHI. In marriage!

Exit MEPHISTOPHILIA, in flames. All scatter into darkness.

The curtain rises. CAPTAIN COROCAN is seated, in chains, at one end of a long table, with the ARCH TRAITOR at the other. Along one side are FREDRIC (in chains), MABEL (in chains), the SENESCHAL (in chains, SIR JOSEPH (in chains) and the PROCTOR (completely covered in chains, with only his helmet showing).


TRIO

ARCH. --- FRED. --- SIR JOSEPH
My brain, it teems--- I’m truly doomed--- I must pretend---
With endless schemes--- I once assumed--- This scene will end---
Of riches great.--- The angels vied--- In peril dire---
Of boundless hate;--- To be my guide,--- But I conspire---
Hypocrisy,--- Now soon I fear--- The demon’s word--
Has driven me--- I’ll quit this sphere--- I softly heard---
To kill them all!--- As the prize pet,--- Says I’ll go free---
The Seneschal!--- Of a brunette.--- Undoubtedly.---
Will suffer first--- For Mabel’s charms--- If this is true,---
And suffer worst--- I’ve lost my arms,--- I’m sure to woo---
His orphanhood--- Or just their ends.--- Dear Mable’s heart---
Was base falsehood,--- My heart descends.--- Or other parts,---
And so,--- And so,--- And so,---
Although--- Although--- Although---
I’m ready to go,--- I fear to go,--- Both friend and foe---
Yet recollect--- And greatly pine--- Surround me here---
Dare I neglect--- To brightly shine,--- I have no fear---
The great effect?-- And take the line--- The demon’s spell---
This aim direct--- Of a hero fine,--- brings wedding bells---
Dare I object?--- With grief condign--- As time will tell.---
My hand is checked --- I am resigned --- I’ve made out well---
My hand is checked --- I am resigned --- I’ve made out well --
My hand is checked --- I am resigned --- I’ve made out well---
ALL. Now we sing in sorrow our sad refrain
Our lives likely linked by unlikely gain ,
Awaiting the arrival of one inhumane,
A creature from an evil immaterial plane.

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Enter TECH-ADEPT BUTTERCUP

RECITATIVE

TECH. Hold! My crime I must confess!
A black disgrace, what will you fleshbags think of next?
You bid me tend to the ship’s engine-core
But I once ran a Genetor’s ward.

SONG – TECH-ADEPT BUTTERCUP


TECH. A many years ago,
I walked among humanity,
Before I took red robes,
I practised some gene-alchemy

ALL. Ah, such an abnormality
When she walked among humanity
She practiced lay gene-alchemy
A many years ago.

TECH. Two gene-fixed children grew
One was of poor construction
The other was enhanced
Through prionic induction!

ALL. (somewhat confused) Now this is our deduction;
One was of poor construction.
What’s prionic inductiom?
A many years ago.
TECH. The new-hatched babes
Were put into my care
Both alike – bright pink, no teeth, no hair
But one I knew was meant for higher status
I could read his genes by a cunning apparatus

ALL. She could read his genes! By a cunning apparatus!

TECH. I put each babe into an empty cask
To label them was my servitor’s one task
But the inkwell failed, and marked both label’s green
And I lost the babe with the enhanc-ed genes.

ALL. She lost the babe! With the enhanc-ed genes!

TECH. So even if I land in dire disgrace
I will now return the babes to their right place
For he who was meant rule the Sector Fleet
Has genes I fixed, and breeding most discreet.

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ALL. Who has genes she fixed? And breeding most discreet?


TECH. You, fleshy one. (points at Fredric). You are Lord High Admiral Joseph.

ALL. (gasp)

SIR JOSEPH. No he’s not, you rust-brained heap of calamitous rubbish! I am Sir Joseph!

TECH. My gene-printing is infallible. You are not Sir Joseph.

SIR JOSEPH. Well then, dash it all, who am I?

TECH. You are Fredric.

ALL. (more gasping).

FRED. But, then that must mean...

Enter MEPHISTOPHILIA, in black wedding regalia, attending by the DAMNED, in suits and dresses. Bells peal.


MEPHI. My love! It’s time! Come, take my hand. (she skips over to Sir Joseph, whose chains fall away).

SIR JOSEPH. I protest! But this was not at all what I intended when I summoned you!

ALL. (yet more gasping. The PROCTOR shakes with rage)

ARCH. What! This is dire heresy, and from a noble peer of the Imperium such as yourself? Shameful, shameful.

ALL. (echoing) Shameful, shameful.

SIR JOSEPH. As if you haven’t done worse.

ARCH. Ah, but I am an Arch-Traitor. It is in my nature to do such things. But in you, a daemonic pact reeks of hypocrisy!

MEPHI. Oh shush, don’t insult my husband like that. Come on dear!

Exit MEPHISTOPHILIA, followed by SIR JOSEPH carried by the DAMNED

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RECITATIVE

ARCH. Well, that ended most unusually. By rights, I should still slaughter you all.
And yet, seeing such a man as Sir Joseph fall, I am inclined to spare the Seneschal.

FRED. My crimes must be pardoned too, for I did not know my nature. I behaved as a rating, when I should have behaved as a Lord High Admiral.

ARCH. Very true. In that case, I release you all. Captain Corocan, I beg your pardon, for I was only acting in accordance with my sense of duty.

CAPT. All is forgiven, for no one can act against their own nature.

All those chained are released, and embrace

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OCTET - MABEL, SENESCHAL, FREDRIC, ARCH-TRAITOR, CAPTAIN COROCAN, TECH-ADEPT BUTTERCUP. MEPHISTOPHILIA and SIR JOSEPH from offstage

Oh joy, oh rapture unforeseen,
Our troubled paths are now serene,
He on the Throne has shown his love
Has hung his ensign high above,
Our hearts are set ablaze.

With more good faith and less ill will,
We’ll build a cause Imperial,
And if we spot a daemon’s snare,
We’ll scatter it without a care
In dreamy roundelay.

ARCH. For he's the Captain of the Nevermore.
ALL. And a right good captain too!
ARCH. Though I occupy your ship
I am loosening my grip
To let him retain his crew

ALL. Though he occupies the ship
He is loosening his grip
To let us retain our crew.

FRED. I shall marry with a wife,
In my noble rank of life!
And you, my own, are she—
I must learn a mighty ask;
But wherever the Throne asks,
I shall never be untrue to thee!
ALL. What, never?
FRED. No, never!
ALL. What, never!
FRED. Hardly ever!
ALL. Hardly ever be untrue to thee.
Then give three cheers, and then repeat
For the newly minted Lordling of the Sector Fleet

TECH. I’m Tech-Adept Buttercup, named Adept Buttercup,
Though I could never tell why,
But still I'm called Buttercup — metallic Buttercup,
Worker of miracles I!

SIR JOSEPH. I say again as I retreat
I did command the Sector Fleet,
Whose praise the Imperium loudly chants.
MEPHI. Say good-bye to your sisters, and your cousins, and your aunts,
Especially your cousins,
Whom I’ve eaten up by dozens,
His sisters, and his cousins, and his aunts!

ALL. For he is Imperial,
And he himself has said it,
And it's greatly to his credit
That he is an Imp-e-e-e-e-RI-AL!

CURTAIN

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Thank fuck, that's finally done! Now I can sleep!

Next time someone says /tg/ doesn't do OC anymore (discounting lazy-ass quest threads), bring them here.

Night!

>>47604798
I saved it. It'll be up on 1d4chan tomorrow

>>47604845
Neat! Feel free to make any edits you need to.

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>>47604798
>>47604769

*Slow clap*
archived for posterity:
http://suptg.thisisnotatrueending.com/archive/47597039/

Please do Cyrano next time

That will do OP. That will do.

Well that was not what I expected to see on /tg/ when I woke up this morning.

So what is this, a lonely pointless textdump?

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Bravo Sir, bravo!
But for implying that officers of the Imperial Navy are incompetent, and promoted on anything other than merit, I must arrest you on charges of heresy, incitement to mutiny, and questioning the authority of an officer.

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=wKXtv2_IaCY

anon from the night before

https://1d4chan.org/wiki/Opera_imperialis