Quartermaster's Office

Low in the ship, the more easily to take in shipments from the docks at the very bottom. The elevators open into a large high-ceilinged plaza, plenty of space for air so crowds can queue and continue breathing. Halls lead away to the sides, and on the far wall: the Quartermaster's Window.

## the window

~~(to the wall, til the sweat drip down my)~~

A wire-embedded glass window with a wide countertop on both sides is fitted into the width of one of the gothic-arched bays of the ship’s halls. There’s a passthrough carved into the counter on one side of the window, which is just deep enough to slip a laspack through under the glass. Many things bigger than that will probably be coming from storage deeper in the bowels of the ship than the stockroom behind the office, but the swords, guns, etc that are kept ready in racks in the back will be handed through the door, which is placed on the opposite end of the window to the pass-through for basic security reasons.
Hung, with magnets, on the fancy figured column flanking the window near the passthrough, acolytes will find file pockets containing copies of blank requisition forms to fill out. They will need to provide their own pens, because the QM has long since given up on “trying to keep the fuckin pigeons from flying off vit ‘em” and the chain attached to the column hasn’t had a pen dangling from it for years. Having the QM offer you a pen to use while you stand at his counter is a rare friendly gesture.

### paperwork

It is the Saint's general policy to "yes, and" whenever possible, and he encourages his underlings to emulate him in all ways as he is the most perfect being currently walking around on two legs, not in so many words. In that spirit, the QM generally *will* grant your wish, but he still requires paperwork and justification. The form is very simple - acolyte's name, what they want, and space to write a paragraph or two about why they want it. He reserves all rights to argue about it.

## the office

The counter is the wrong height for Thijs, and he sits at it on a high-backed bar stool. There's one of those round wire racks hanging overhead, as for taking orders in an old-school diner; there are baskets of often-requested small items under the counter, along with dozens upon dozens of catalogs for ordering all sorts of shit both normal and unusual. There's more counter on the back wall, which is used the same way, but there's also a pod-style Hot Beverage machine of no particular brand placed back there, with all the necessary accoutrements including stroopwaffels (but bring your own mug), and an armchair with a throw blanket on it, and some magazines (many from Duyvel, and those at least six months out of date).

The door is locked, and can be unlocked by pressing a button. The button is out of reach from Thijs's usual position at the counter, but he's gotten good at throwing large sharpies at it hard enough to set it off when he invites people in.

### the order of business

When ground crew's getting ready to go, the plaza fills up and Thijs does some work for a living. Acolytes fill out their paperwork on their own time and *then* bring the *completed* forms up to him, or else he yells at them. He pulls in the completed forms, there's usually a lot of very routine stuff on there, he transcribes the routine shit onto a little diner-orders pad and slaps that onto the rack overhead then puts the less-routine shit onto a list on a paper ledger, that form gets set aside in a paper tray and he moves on to the next in line. While he's doing paperwork for order #2 the servoskulls are flying around fetching the things he put on the order slips on the rack, and then they drop off little baskets with the slip attached at the counter beside him. When he's got an order ready to go, he waves the next-in-line back and hollers the number of the ready order out at the top of his lungs, shoves the shit through the pass-through and waves them away to get to the next person.

Once the line is gone he finally turns to the ledger; he can send the servoskulls out individually to fetch what they can carry, and there are servitors to help with things that Thijs can't carry either. Acolytes who needed non-routine things are probably still hanging around the plaza and can be hollered at as normal to come get their stuff at the front door - Thijs will in fact stand up to hit the button and help them get their things, but don't act like he's being nice about it.

## the back rooms

Through the arch at the back of the office there's a big honkin warehouse space with floor to ceiling shelving and rolling ladders and very few safety precautions, because OSHA exists in this specific version of this setting but it is a strange and grimdark OSHA that only happens when it's funny. Fortunately the servoskulls are perfectly skilled at hovering upward to locate Bin 110-F6 to fetch an unusual caliber of bolter round or whatever.

## the assistants

If the Saint keeps finding people in trash cans and bringing them home and keeping them like this they're going to be so numerous that Thijs won't be able to keep up with a ground crew deployment on his own and he'll have to find an apprentice or some shit. Today is not yet that day.

### the servoskulls

There are three assigned permanently to the Quartermaster's service. They are labelled I, II and IV in beautiful hand-painted gilt-adorned gothic lettering on their foreheads. They have grabby hands, a surprising amount of carry capacity in their little hover power, and the ability to order around the (completely non-sentient, and mostly akin to forklifts and hand trucks with spines glued onto them) servitors in the back rooms. Occasionally they do get stuck in the rafters or similar, especially when they've been getting chased by...

### little bastard

the Quartermaster's catweasel, long of spine, soft and white of fur, sharp of fang and claw. Little Bastard can be bribed with treats but cannot be befriended. He lives throughout the office and back rooms; Thijs is concerned about the possibility of him getting out the front door when he lets people in, but let's be real, that little bastard probably sneaks out every night and does who knows what in the air vents.

### random acolytes

If you want to hang out in the office for some reason you can have weird cocoa and a stroopwaffel but you will be forced to help out in some way, with organization or paperwork or cleaning or something