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[IC] Warhammer 40,000: Dark Heresy: Shattered Hope
Asher
Registered User regular
Registered User regular
To be Unclean
That is the mark of the Mutant
To be Impure
That is the mark of the Mutant
To be Abhorred
That is the mark of the Mutant
To be Reviled
That is the mark of the Mutant
To be Hunted
That is the mark of the Mutant
To be Purged
That is the fate of the Mutant
To be Cleansed
For that is the fate of all Mutants
~Extract from a Training Chant in the First Book of Indoctrinations
That is the mark of the Mutant
To be Impure
That is the mark of the Mutant
To be Abhorred
That is the mark of the Mutant
To be Reviled
That is the mark of the Mutant
To be Hunted
That is the mark of the Mutant
To be Purged
That is the fate of the Mutant
To be Cleansed
For that is the fate of all Mutants
~Extract from a Training Chant in the First Book of Indoctrinations
Anton Zerbe wrote:++++++++++ Message Begins ++++++++++
Clearance Code: Inquisition/Vermillion
Astropathic Duct: 1518-8129-Persueus-48
Thought for the Day: "Only in death does duty end."
Attachment: SepharisSecundus84.95.32Data.Vault
My Faithful Servants,
An important matter has come to my attention that requires immediate Inquisitorial input. Unfortunately, my attentions are fully occupied by the investigation on Salis Primus and I am unable to attend. Instead, I am giving you an opportunity to prove yourselves. Though you have not met before, you all earned my trust. You are all exceptional individuals worthy of instruction in the art of investigation and interrogation. You will work together and trust one another. An inquisitor will not hold petty biases in the face of the Great Enemy. Serve me well, and prove that my trust was not misplaced.
You are to investigate the remnants of a cult uprising on Sepheris Secundus. A full history can be accessed in the attached datavault if you so desire, but I will provide you with a summary. Sepheris Secundus is an important mining world that supplies many key planets in the Cailix sector with fuels and ores, the Lifeblood of industry in the Imperium. A Chaos cult was born in the mines, which developed into a full uprising. There was a purge of course, as it could hardly escape the notice of the Inquisition. Unfortunately, the Inquisitor leading the investigation was . . . lax . . . and certain tomes and individuals went undiscovered, left to fester and beget a second uprising. This uprising occurred less that a year ago. A regiment of the Drookian Fen Troops was deployed to crush the uprising, which they did with commendable speed and skill. Unfortunately the situation has become complicated. The remains of the Cultists have hidden themselves in an area of the mines known as the Shatters, far too important for the Guardsmen to simply destroy them with massive Firepower. All men sent in have gone missing, according to the officer in charge. Now, the Guard has to pull out, redeployed by Warmaster Heldrik to combat the Genestealers on Keffia. A small detachment has been left behind to guard the mine entrance but the high command has requested Inquisitorial assistance.
I am inclined to agree, so, this is what you will do, as my Acolytes:
Determine the remaining Strength of the Cult
Investigate the Mines
Purge the enemies of the Imperium
May the Emperor guide your steps,
Anton Zerbe, Inquisitor
Ordo Hereticus++++++++++ Message Ends ++++++++++
Ensign Dauber was uneasy. Serving in the Emperor's most glorious Navy, he had encountered many strange things, even in just 2 years of service, but he felt nervous as he hurried through the metallic bowels of the Frigate Dutiful. He had heard the tales of the Inquisition, might warriors and great mystics and sages, capable of burning a man with a single glance, or seizing his very soul. He had been both honoured and terrified when he had been told that agents of the Inquisition were being carried by the Dutiful, and doubly so when he had been assigned as their attaché. They were hardly what he had imagined; he had been expecting a great man, and his loyal minions, rather than this assortment of rather scruffy if undeniably sinister group of men and women. He would have sworn that one of them had stolen his drink in a spaceport bar on Malfi once! Nevertheless, he paused as he reached to door to the rooms that had been put aside for the passengers, they had all the correct ID codes. He had just been expecting something grander. Though, his bunkmate Gerd said that inquisitor always traveled in disguise . . . He took a deep breath, and entered the room.
The rooms assigned to the retinue were serviceable, but among the best the Dutiful had. A single large briefing room, an ancient hololithic Display Table set in the center, surrounded by a circle of padded synthleather chairs. There were a couple of couches against the walls, in the same ancient faded synthleather, sitting directly on the cold metal floor. Four doors lead off, each one to a private room, the closest thing to true freedom in the claustrophobic environment of a Space Ship. All four of the passengers were present, involved in personal activities. Dauber coughed, nervously to attract their attention.
"Honoured Passengers, we have just exited the Immaterium and will have achieved a stable Orbit around Sepheris Secundus in approximately 1 hour. A Lander is currently being prepared to transport you down to the surface, when you are ready of course!"
He grinned nervously.
"If there is anything you need, please let me know and I will organize it to be loaded onto the Lander for you."
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He was wearing a plain grey jumpsuit, replacing the coveralls he'd been wearing when discovered hiding about the Inquisitorial lighter, that had been more tatter and dirt than actual cloth. He set down the piece he was working on, carefully wiping off his hands on a clean rag, then unconsciously running his left through his thinning hair.
There was something that struck him as vaguely familiar about the Ensign, but he couldn't place what, nor did it seem of vital importance to do so. Probably the young man only bore a passing similarity to someone he'd known back on Malfi. "A phial of grafine lubricant, and more ammunition for this weapon. 5 clips worth at the minimum, 10, if you can manage it." He spoke in a soft, friendly tone that made the request sound more like a reasonable suggestion than a command.
The young man turned quickly, uneasy and twisting under Cimbria's pink gaze. he faced the other two members of the part ywho had been Silent until now.
"Sir? Madam? Anything you require?"
"If my equipment is already stowed on the lander, I need nothing else," grolwed the man from Fedrid.
Slightly misreading the Ensign's expression, Xanthia smiled and moved up close to Dauber, running a finger up and down the front of his jacket. Leaning in conspiratorially she whispered "And if you could possibly find a copy of the next Ulanti's Lovers, I could be very grateful"
Dauber awkwardly backed away, saluted sharply and strode purposefully out the door with as much dignity as he could muster. Outside he gratefully collapsed against one of the bulkheads, took a deep breath and Wiped the sleeve of his uniform across his brow. They really had unnerved him, in a far more subtle way than the Ork pirates the Dutiful had been combating since Dauber enlisted. Such is the will of the Emperor.
He went to find the Quartermaster.
"We have achieved orbit Honoured Passangers! The later is prepared and loaded with the materials you requested. If you would follow me?"
He stepped the the side and indicated the door.
Mir stood first. "Another day, another one for the Emperor. Lead on."
"In His name," he said, standing, the weapon disappearing into one of the jump suit's larger pockets, his lenses into another, the grease stained clothe into a third. "Goodladies, shall we?" He wondered about what was to come. It was obvious that the four of them were akin to a new work crew, given the basics, but untested, their actual abilities unknown until they were actually given their tools and put to work on the line. The main difference was that if a member of an untried work crew was unable to handle their task, the chance of anyone getting killed was small. He hadn't known them for more than a fortnight, nor they him, but he doubted the Inquisitor would've tasked them with this if he did not think they possessed the capabilities to succeed. As back home, there would be no proof save that provided by the fruits of effort.
But she kept her eyes open and followed.
Soon they emerged into the Docking Bay of the Dutiful. A wide open space compared to the tight passages of the rest of the ship. About a hundered meters in length and half as wide, it was occupied by a number of Shuttles and other landing craft. As a Frigate, the Dutiful lacked and attack craft, but the ability to shuttle crew too and fro mthe service is essential in any craft.
Dauber ushered them towards an Arvus Light lander, currently being prepped for launch as the Ground crew ran back and forth, Adjusting pipes, doing last minute repairs and shouting orders above the background runble of the ships engines. Dauber saluted.
"Here we are! Lieutenant Kai will be your pilot, he's one of our best! I hope that the Emperor sniles upon your Holy Mission."
He saluted once more, briefly flashed the sign of the Aquila and quickly walked from the bay to attend his duties.
He strapped in with one hand whilst another worked through the contents of his pack with a calm efficiency, one borne of combat in a dozen theaters on as many worlds. Ration packs, spare ammunition cells, and even Korthak, his prized hunting axe from Fedrid. He took the blade out swiftly, turning it over and examining it for any flaws. It still bore its familiar heft and weight. One of the Techpriests had insulted it, calling it an unbalanced weapon unfit for Guard service, but Mir had not listened to the deranged technosorceror. Korthak bore the notched edge of many a sabre-hunt, and now it was less a weapon than an extension of himself. He found an empty belt loop and put the axe in its familiar place.
A battered Laspistol, navy-issue, was the next prize from the Quartermaster. Its barrel was shorter than the Guard-issue, better for the in-close fights that occurred on starships that cruised the black seas. It found its way to the holster strapped around Mir's thigh, its smaller power packs fitting neatly into pouches on his belt.
The last great prize was the M39 Fortis Binary-pattern Long Las. The weapon was still colored in the dusk red camouflage of his last campaign, fought on the magma murderworld of Theorinze VII. This weapon, a cherished posession, he let rest along his lap. From barrel to stock it was almost a meter and a half long. Thankfully, the M40 Cadia-pattern infantry helmet had been excluded. He'd never know if the Inquisitor ordered it or not, but Mir was silently thankful that the stifling, sensory destroying piece of kit had been left out. It played hell on his ears, muffling them when he could never afford it.
This the practiced Imperial Guardsman did as his fellows boarded. Some, doubtless the more cultured of his companions, would frown on his almost ape-like pawing through the bag. Others, he didn't doubt, would be disturbed by just how long he had gazed at the strange axe, but in truth Mir didn't care. After all was said and done, whether he did his killing for the Inquisition or the Lords Militant, he knew he still served the Imperium and through that, all mankind. Mir knew that, at least until he was old and grey and his withered hands could no longer take up his axe, he would continue to fight for his Emperor.
He watched Mir sorting through his kit, giving an approving nod. It was good to see a man who had a rapport with his tools, and held them in the proper respect.
With a stomach turning jolt, the Lander lurched forwards and spiraled into space which was quickly replaced with the Sulphur wind swept aspect of Sepharis Secundus below. Down and down the craft roared, jolts and buffets from the violent ash storms that scarred the planets slowly merging into a single vibration that wrenched the passengers within their safety harnesses and a patina of mustard yellow and black dust splatted across the view ports from the toxic storm outside. Eventually this dissipated, and the ride smoothed out as, distant in the viewport, a Mountain range came into sight, jagged grey peaks stabbing the sky, distant clouds lurking high among them. Finally, with a hiss of hydraulics and final thump, the Lander came to a complete halt.
Planetfall.
The landing ramp hissed and slowly, jerkily lowered to the ground, and the stench of chemicals washed into the cabin. Agent of the Inquisition have arrive on Sepharis Secundus.
From the exit ramp of the lander, the edge of the shuttlepad is visible, black tarmac over dark grey soil. A hundred or so meters away the a camp is visible, several lines of Tartan Tents, organised in neat rows. The shout and bustle of the military camp drifts across. The mountains are visible past the tents, looming ominously in the distance.
"I thought Inquisitorial retinues were supposed to get some respect," he complained.
"Fear and respect," she suggested, but didn't finish the thought.
"Sirs! Ladies! Welcome to the Gorgonid mines! You are here to help, yes? We've lost all hope ever since, well . . . Sorry! I'm babbling again. Which one of you is the Inquisitor?"
"Listen to the hiver, boy," sneered Mir. "There's nothing the Lord Inquisitor could do that we can't. Where's your superior officer?"
"TROOPER JURTZ! YOU LOUSY SON OF A GROX HERDER! HAVE YOU ABANDONED YOUR POST?"
A large, heavy-set man wearing much the same uniform as Jurtz appears from the direction of the camp, with the addition of a Sergeants stripes on his left sleeve.
"Uhh . . No sir, Sergeant Reynard sir, I was just heading back now! The Inquisitor's men have arrived!"
"So I can see you filthy tetra-worm, now get back to your post before I have you flogged!"
The forlorn trooper hurries back towards the camp and Sergeant Raynard turns to face the Acolytes.
He is an ugly man, with a broad tattooed face and a nasty scar running down one cheek, his mouth appears to be twisted in a permanent grimace.
"So! You're the lot the Inquisitor has sent to help eh? You don't look like much to me, but as He wills it . . . How can I help?"
His bellow attracted another Guardsmen, who quickly ran to the Sergeants side.
"Keyes, take these men to the Lieutenant, they need to talk with him."
He turns back to the Acolytes.
"The Lieutenant is the Commanding officer here. He lead the last incursion into the Shatters, he is your man for the information you seek. I will meet you at the Lieutenant's tent as soon as I have the information."
He nods at you and strides away into the camp site.
Keyes gestures in a different direction.
"If you would follow me Inquisitors?"