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Post by CELS on Dec 29, 2003 20:09:03 GMT -5
A quick introduction. This is supposedly from the journals of one Thomas Ariston, an Inquisitor. Note that this was written before I read the Eisenhorn trilogy. I even planned cultists taking control of a Titan, and letting Ariston stop this. Then I read the Eisenhorn trilogy, and I saw that Dan Abnett had stolen my idea. Not the first time something like that happens to me. Great minds think alike, I guess. Now that I think about it, actually writing a first-person series based on the life of an Inquisitor seems pretty silly after the Eisenhorn trilogy, so I won't actually write any sequels to this. I think... if I do write some 40k fiction, it'll be about the life of an Imperial Assassin. I'm sure some hotshot Black Library writer will steal my idea before I even start writing anyway though  + + + Journal - Damnation Damnation ONLY TWO YEARS had passed since my graduation from the Inquisitorial Academy when my mentor died. He was the honourable Inquisitor Solon, a known and respected puritan who had served the Inquisition for over four hundred years, and served it well. He died by the hands of a fellow Inquisitor turned renegade, a radical snake named Khoriv. As a puritan and a loyal servant of the Imperium, Solon saw it as his duty to end the heresy which Khoriv was commiting; summoning chaos-things to fight by his side, even performing ritual sacrifice to please the dark masters he served. God-Emperor guard his soul, Solon failed. I found his corpse in his own home, horribly mutilated and broken. The last thing he did was to write Khoriv’s name on the floor with his own blood, so that he could be avenged. For three years I hunted Khoriv throughout the sector; scouring the sewer cities of Meksum I, chasing through the deserts of Bemial II, and fighting for survival on the feudal world called Solstice. The details are trivial and pointless, and the memories painful. It was clear however that he was trying to cover his traces and that he knew I was looking for him, but my mentor taught me well and after three long years I found him in on the shrine world Ephesus. Though I would have taken great pleasure in slaying the son of a bitch by myself, I had no illusions of my own prowess and knew full well that he was more than a match for me. I realized I had no choice but to summon the Chimera cell of the Ordo Malleus. THE SANDY WINDS howled over the high plateaus of Ephesus, pulling and tearing at my cloak like a frenzied beast. The sun was rising, and its piercing blue light burned my eyes when I looked at it. I was stood all alone by the edge of the cliff, scouting out over the barren land before me. It was like the desert storms were building up to echo my feelings. Suddenly the ground started shaking and a large shuttle hovered into view from the abyss below, jet-black and without markings. It laid floating in the air before me for a few moments as if inspecting and judging me, and then hovered over my head, landing on the center of the plateau. A boarding ramp lowered and as if on cue, the winds were cleared of sand and the plateau was bathed in sunlight. One by one, three figures emerged from the darkness and walked down the ramp. The first was Inquisitor Janus Rayner, a veteran witch hunter and daemon slayer of the monodominant philosophy. He had often proved to be amongst the most ruthless and brutal of Inquisitors, and wore a fearsome black suit of power armour decorated with skulls as if to confirm this. He walked up to me with confident steps, not even bothering to offer a polite nod. Following him was the robed Inquisitor Marcus Brentano, whom I greatly admired back then, and still do to this day. Marcus has always been known as a great thinker belonging to the Amalthian faction, and not one to draw rash conclusions or lose his temper. Carrying his adamantium staff over one shoulder, he approached with a discreet smile and walked next to Janus. Last out of the shuttle was Thantos Sumner, wearing glimmering mesh armour; the youngest and most inexperienced of the three. This was my first meeting with the famous prodigy, whose psychic powers were rumoured to be unequalled amongst all the Inquisitors in the sector, and I could now see the great future in his eyes that the others spoke of. “The Emperor’s light shines upon us today,” began Janus, gesturing to the sun. “We must act fast, and not suffer the witch to live,” he declared and drew his power sword. “What have you found out about Khoriv’s location, Ariston?” asked Marcus. “He hides deep in the dungeons of the abandoned temple in the mountains. There is no way to escape from the dungeons that I know of, and there is no sign of activity on the outside.” “Good. We shall bring justice to Emperor in the name of Solon before this heretic can bring more shame to the blessed Inquisition!” Janus exclaimed with typical drama and turned towards the mountains, tightening his grip on the power sword. Marcus nodded, and looked me in the eyes for a second. “Thomas, you seem worried. What are you thinking?” “Well, sir, I have hunted this bastard for over three years and now I have finally caught him… But what worries me is that he isn’t trying to escape, even though he must be aware that I have traced him by now. As I said, there are no signs of activity on the outside – he hasn’t even set out guards. I can’t help but think that he knows we are coming for him, and that he welcomes it.” Marcus nodded, |
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Post by CELS on Dec 29, 2003 20:10:39 GMT -5
Two daemon-hosts, unholy beings trapped in the bodies of men, rose into the air from opposite sides of the room and smiled down at us with red and yellow eyes. Great horns protruded from their shaved skulls and their torn, black robes rippled in an unnatural storm.
“Khoriv bids you welcome, Inquisitors,” they hissed. “And thanks you for adding your blood to our sacrifice.” The daemon-hosts grinned, licking their great fangs with serpentine tongues.
“You will not stand in the way of the Emperor, chaos-spawn. Be gone or suffer death by His hand,” Janus replied, his hatred-filled voice driving away the seed of fear in the hearts of our men.
Their grin turned into a deadly snarl.
Yellow bolts of psychic energy burst forth from their fingertips and stabbed into our ranks, incinerating three of the storm troopers. Fighting broke out again, and others soon joined their dying cries. Burning with rage, I found myself surrounded by a circle of storm troopers and redemptionists who one by one gave their lives to protect mine as they fell to the crude weapons of the chaos horde. But I am a warrior of the Imperium, and have been trained for combat since I was a mere child. To hide behind the lives of others is not the way of the Inquisition; it never has been, and it never will be.
Reaching deep into my mind, I drew upon my powers and leapt far up in the air and stopped, bending the laws of physics to allow an overview of the fight. I could see Marcus and Janus by the altar, fighting back to back against the enveloping swarms. Deeper into the darkness, Thantos was fighting his way through the chaos worshippers to reach one of the daemon-hosts. His blind bravery was as admirable as his powers, but against foes like these, I feared it would bring him nothing but martyrdom.
Thinking I had to save the young Inquisitor, I let myself fall to the ground, landing heavily on the dirty stone floor, and on all fours to dampen the fall. I stood up and looked right into the eyes of the second daemon-host. It had not been there a second before.
“Hello, Inquisitor,” the thing said with a smile. Its voice sounded like a thousand souls crying out in harmony. “I am prince Erebus.”
A superhuman blow with its right palm sent me sprawling into a nearby stone column, knocking the air out of me, and I fell to the floor like a lifeless doll. Since then, I’ve learned that Daemons of the blood god are not known to converse much before combat.
Chuckling, the daemon-host floated towards me and watched with amusement as I struggled to get up on my feet. The daemon had been given a perfect host; its body was tall and muscular, corrupted with tall horns and a massive spiked tail that slowly wagged back and forth.
Again it attacked, spinning around to strike me down with its crushing tail. Using my telekinetic powers, I leapt high up in the air, avoiding the blow by an inch, and brought my force sword down towards its throat, channeling raw psychic power into the holy blade. But the daemon-thing was too fast, and with both arms it grabbed me by my collar as it turned around and threw me hard onto the stone floor. I cried out, the dull pain of fractured bones overwhelming me. It laughed out loud, and floated a few feet back. The daemon had all the time in the world.
Forcing my mind to ignore the pain, I jumped up to my feet, and gestured for it to attack. The thing smirked at the challenge and picked up a battle axe from the floor. Closing my eyes briefly, I channeled more power into my blade, igniting it with white flames. The only thing that helped me overcome the pain was my hatred.
“The last thing you’ll feel before I send you back to where you came from shall be the purifying flame of the God-Emperor,” I spat. “You will burn alive…”
Roaring in reply, the daemon-host charged towards me, surging through the air with impossible speed. I raised my weapon.
Leaping to the right, I avoided the first blow with ease, and quickly parried with my sword, but missed. The daemon-host knocked into me with full force, forcing me back, before grazing my chest with the heavy battle axe. Blood ran down my armour and it howled out in joy before striking again, with all its force. Using my powers to slow time itself around me, I leapt over the blow that would have cut me in half by the waist and kicked the daemon-host hard in the shoulder, turning his back towards me, before I stabbed my force sword deep into its neck.
It fell to the floor, lying on all four as it gasped and gurgled, my blade embedded straight through its upper torso. Then it exploded into flames, and its skeleton looked up at me, but whispered a name before falling apart. “Raziel.”
I stood watching the daemon-host’s remains for a moment, leaning on one of the tall columns as I waited for the pain to diminish. I had fractured one shoulder and broken a rib or two, and I knew this was just the beginning… Or I thought I did.
Around me, the battle had almost finished. Several hundred bodies lay bleeding on the floor. The flames were gone now. By the altar, Janus was holding a wounded trooper up with one hand, as he fought the surrounding cultists with the other, along with Marcus. All the redemptionists, all the other storm troopers… were dead. But in the midst of their bloody corpses, the duel between Thantos and the last daemon-host continued.
The two were engaged in a blinding dance of death and destruction, both drawing unfathomable amounts of energy from the warp to unleash a nightmarish inferno that no words can fully describe. Unnatural flames burst forth from their fingers, screaming for flesh and blood as they flooded through the air. A blinding vortex of lightning bolts surrounded them, scorching the bodies on the ground, and hitting them with such enormous electric power that they sprawled and twitched as if they were still alive.
Suddenly the daemon-host rose from the ground, dark bolts of energy springing from its eyes, stabbing through Thantos’ defenses and scything him in the shoulder. I cried out his name, and for a fraction of a second, he turned to me and smiled smugly. Even at that time, he was probably the one of the most powerful Imperial psykers in the sector. He would not die, not like this.
Thantos jumped up at the daemon-host, white flames flowing from his hands, and grabbing it by the neck, he channeled all his force directly through the body of the daemon-host, unleashing a mighty cataclysm that enveloped them both in a blinding miasma of light. A deafening shriek and it was gone. Slowly, the smoke cleared, and only Thantos was left standing, untouched by the destruction. Such a display of sheer power, I had never seen before.
Thantos started running over to help Marcus and Janus, who were fighting an only growing number of crazed cultists. I followed, but the young Inquisitor turned as he ran and gestured for me to go on.
“No, Ariston! I will aid them. You find Khoriv and bring him to justice.”
Nodding, I sprinted towards the closest set of stairs, my blood thirst stifling any thoughts of caution or fear. The murdering traitor would be brought to justice; he would die this day.
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Post by CELS on Dec 29, 2003 20:13:07 GMT -5
I FINALLY ENTERED the cursed dungeons below and immediately knew Khoriv was near. The very air throbbed with dark energies and malign forces. The black stone walls were riddled with grim prophecies written in blood and decorated with sickening imagery. In the corners, shadows moved where light should have been.
“Khoriv,” I bellowed. “Show yourself! Vengeance is upon you!”
I ran through the stinking dungeons like a raging beast, instantly killing those who opposed me with the swipe of my blade. The haunting face of my mentor burned in my mind, the gruesome image of his mutilated corpse. My thirst for Khoriv’s blood grew tenfold with each passing second, welling up inside me like a sea of hatred and despair.
Oh, how I have come to pay for that blood lust later.
Kicking the heavy wooden doors open, I stormed into the inner chapel and immediately scanned the surroundings for the traitor, almost hoping that he would ambush me. The chapel was a circular hall surrounded by galleries going six floors up under the dome-ceiling, and was full of chanting cultists. I had entered the sixth floor, and walking over to the edge, I saw the cult leaders below in the centre of the room, standing around a candle-lit circle that had been marked with unholy icons and symbols. A naked man was chained to the floor. And beside them, sitting high up on his throne, I saw Khoriv, his long black hair hiding his ghostly pale face and milky grey eyes.
Suddenly, I sensed that I was not alone. I turned around and met the red eyes of half a dozen cultists, hissing and snickering. I felled the first before they could even raise their weapons. A second leapt forward, but his attack was slow and clumsy, and I blocked it with ease, sending his corpse flying back to the others.
The chanting below grew louder, and I could feel the hair on my neck slowly rising. The candles and torches illuminating the room flickered as if in a strong wind. What foul sorcery is at work, I wondered.
The cultists made a second attack, and charged towards me, swinging their blades. I killed one with a quick thrust to his heart, and avoided the blow of another, but they were too many and the pain was slowing me down. Hurling himself forward, one of the crazed cultists stabbed at my arm with a rusty dagger, cutting deep into my flesh, and bringing my guard down. I looked up just in time to see a spiked club swung towards me, hitting me square in the chest and sending me flying over the railing.
I fell for what felt like hours. As I closed toward the ground, I heard the chanting grow louder, and the room was illuminated by something I could not see. Then all turned black.
I CAN BARELY bring myself to speak of what I experienced next. In the following months, I would pray that it was only a hallucination or a dream I had as a result of being knocked unconscious. But I know better now, Emperor forgive me.
I remember opening my eyes to a raging sky. I could see the sun rising and setting again behind dark clouds moving with impossible speed. I looked around and saw never ending fields of grass, growing up from the ground, growing tall and green, before withering and dying. The circle of life repeated itself, whole years, decades passing before my eyes. But in the distance, I spotted something that did not wither and die. Infernal red eyes opened, and it looked back.
“A servant of the Imperium…” said a horrible voice inside my head. “How interesting… how delightfully ironic.”
“Where am I? Who are you?”
He laughed. “Don’t worry… Thomas. You will have all of eternity to answer those questions.” The distant figure vanished, and was nowhere to be seen.
The clouds overhead spoke out in thunder, and rain started pouring down. Relentless winds ravaged the grass plains before me. Suddenly a bolt of lightning pierced the dark sky and struck me in the chest. Unspeakable pain surged through my body and I was flung to the ground, my clothes burning. I got up on my knees and looked down at the charred remains of my clothes as they were blown away in the wind, revealing the pale white skin below. My limbs were suddenly stronger, my hands were drenched in blood, and my nails had grown into black claws.
“No…” I uttered in disbelief.
I looked down into a small pond of water and gasped at the sigh of my reflection. My eyes looked like those of a beast, my teeth were sharper, and I had grown fangs. Grown from my head was a crown of horns. “No!” I pleaded again.
“Eternity,” a voice whispered in my ear. And everything disappeared.
I OPENED MY eyes again and found myself floating in mid air, looking down at the defiled stone floor and the crushed man that had damped my fall, my vision blurry. Enormous pain was tearing my head apart from the inside, and my body was held up as if by invisible hands, on the verge of tearing me limb from limb. Around me, I heard only laughter and the distant sound of storm.
Suddenly I heard the crash of a wooden door forced open, and I fell to the ground. Lying on my back, I saw Janus and Marcus storming in, cutting down the surrounding cultists before they could even turn to meet the threat.
“Inquisitor Khoriv, for crimes against the Imperium, for murdering a member of the Blessed Inquisition, for consorting with daemons, you are hereby found guilty and condemned to death,” roared Janus. The cultists fell back to defend their master.
“Fools!” Khoriv exclaimed. “I am no more traitor than you are. Nor am I the murderer of the pitiful Inquisitor Solon.”
As Khoriv spoke, Marcus pulled me back by my arms and sat me to rest by a stone pillar, allowing himself to drag me to safety as Janus was distracting Khoriv. Though pain and exhaustion broke me, Khoriv’s disrespectful reference to Solon almost made me jump to my feet.
“Solon signed his own death warrant when he opposed me and my allies.”
“Allies!? They are daemons. They have deluded your mind and corrupted your soul,” Janus replied with a disgusted snarl.
“Do not speak so surely of things you know nothing of, blind fool!” Khoriv retorted. “The dark gods themselves are fighting each other as we speak. Our arch-enemies, divided! And you fail to recognize such a potential? Join me, and together we shall use the chaos servants to destroy the very masters they themselves serve.”
“Enough,” boomed Janus’ deep voice, echoing up to the distant ceiling. “Do not attempt to lure me with your serpentine tongue, Khoriv. You are not in a position to make offers. As a true servant of the Emperor and a member of the Inquisition, the only thing I will accept from you is repentance, and the only reward I will give you is a quick death.”
“So be it…” came the hissing reply. “It is time you pay for your ignorance!”
Instantly, Khoriv leapt down to the floor, standing eye to eye with the witch-hunter. With a blinding flash, their power swords met, the power of the clash shaking the very ground. With impossible speed, they exchanged a flurry of blows that were almost invisible to the naked eye, neither one gaining the advantage. Suddenly, Khoriv summoned a fiery blast of raw warp energies, sending Janus flying through the air. He landed with a loud crack, the weight of his powerful body and armour breaking the tiles of the stone floor. Gliding towards the fallen Inquisitor with silent steps, Khoriv smirked and raised his blade to finish the kill.
A blow from Marcus’ staff connected with his jaw, and Khoriv dropped to his knees, blood spraying from his mouth. He looked up with surprise in his eyes, clearly not having expected that the old man would dare touch him. And armed with only a staff? It was such a perfect example of Marcus’ disregard for anything but his duty that it almost made me smile.
Khoriv got to his feet, wiping the blood from his face, his grey eyes flickering with barely contained rage. He looked down at the newcomer, standing in defiance a head lower than him, and grinned fiercely, revealing two great fangs. With lightning swiftness, Khoriv lunged forward at Marcus, unleashing a storm of attacks upon the inferior fighter, who just barely managed to block his burning blade with his adamantium staff.
Heavy footsteps foretold the unstoppable charge of Janus, and Khoriv threw himself to the side, avoiding the descending power fist by a hair’s width. Relentless, Janus hurled himself after him, closely followed by Marcus. But even defending himself against both Inquisitors, Khoriv fought back masterfully, dodging and blocking every attack, and they rushed him back without success.
Then I felt Marcus’ voice inside my head. Thomas, get up! Confused, I obeyed the voice, using the stone pillar for support as I did so. My body shuddered with pain, but I forced my mind to ignore it, watching the fight before me without even daring to blink as they forced Khoriv closer and closer towards me.
Suddenly Marcus thrust his staff forward and hit Khoriv in the face, giving Janus an opening. The armoured giant leapt forward, crushing into Khoriv with all his weight and hitting him like a freight train. Dazzled by the attack, Khoriv stumbled backwards. And fell right in my arms.
“Khoriv,” I whispered as I grabbed hold of his neck and pulled his guard back. “This is for Solon. May the Emperor have mercy on your soul.”
Khoriv screamed. Thrusting his power fist into Khoriv’s chest, Janus crushed his black heart and tore it out, ending his life painfully.
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Post by CELS on Dec 29, 2003 20:15:36 GMT -5
KHORIV FELL TO the ground, dead, his dark blood gathering around his head like a perverse halo. I closed my eyes, and felt this enormous burden being lifted off my shoulders. I was at peace. I had completed my quest. My mentor was avenged.
The chapel was empty now, and the cultists that had surrounded us were long gone, deserting Khoriv and forsaking their gods in fear of their lives. They would be tracked down soon enough.
“Justice has been done,” Janus grunted and extinguished his blade.
There was a short pause, and we bowed our head in prayer.
After a while, Marcus spoke out with a low voice. “Thank the Emperor for giving us strength. May he forgive Khoriv for his ignorance. The poor man was once a great servant of the Imperium, and it is a pity that it must come to this,” he said, careful not to speak ill of the dead.
Though our hatred for Khoriv was strong, Janus and I both knew he was right. As always.
Gentle footsteps came from behind and Thantos walked in, his once white tabard drenched in crimson blood. None of it was his.
“It is done?” he asked, and was answered with nods. “Forgive me for not coming sooner, but it seems Khoriv had nearly as many followers on this world as the Cardinal himself. A pity…” He sighed.
“Of course, many got away, and more still may be in hiding around the planet. But your help is no longer needed. I shall take this cleansing upon myself,” I said, turning to the side to lean on a wall.
“Ariston, your back is covered with blood. Are you wounded?” Thantos asked?
“No, no… I was pushed from the sixth floor, and… someone else took the fall.”
Janus and Marcus looked at me with worried eyes, slowly remembering the scene that had met them when they entered the room.
“What happened, Thomas?” enquired Marcus.
“Nothing, nothing. I just… they must have been conducting a ritual of some kind, but whatever it was, I interrupted it before they could finish.” I looked away, trying to avoid their eyes. “I feel fine. I… The interruption must have caused some psychic disturbance, or…” My voice trailed off.
“Are you sure you’re alright?” Janus asked, offering a hand.
“Never been better,” I winced, as he gripped my fractured shoulder.
“Oh. Right. Sorry,” he offered, stepping back. The other two smiled.
“We’d better get back to the ship then,” said Marcus.
“Thank you for coming to my aid,” I said and bowed to the three. “I could never have done this without you. Finally, my mentor may rest in peace.”
“No need to thank us. Revenge and justice is rewarding enough. We will see you again soon, I suspect. Until then, may the Emperor be with you,” Marcus replied, returning the bow, and the others followed.
“You too, my brothers.”
And with that, the three left the chapel, walking on line as they had when they first came. I was left alone to begin investigation. Ahead, many long weeks of gathering and analyzing evidence awaited, before I could even begin to purge this world of the filth Khoriv had brought. I walked over to his body.
Though he did say that he was not the one who killed Solon, there was no doubt in my mind that he had been part of it, one way or the other. But who had killed him? His cultist servants? No, it would take someone far more powerful and sly to kill Inquisitor Solon…
And whose name was it the daemon-thing Erebus had uttered upon his banishment? “Raziel”… So many questions to be answered, yet in my heart, I somehow knew they would only send me further down into damnation. The dungeons were completely silent now, and I was all alone… staring down on my reflection in the dark pool of blood before me.
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Post by Kage2020 on Dec 30, 2003 9:59:28 GMT -5
What more to say? I kind of liked it. Very in keeping with the stye of the 40k universe and, despite my recent posting on another board, once again dragging me to want to use 'magic' for exclusive representation of the 'psyker abilities'. It normally takes GW books to do that to me! Kage |
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