The Hedonist
Led by Inquisitor Islane Til Andros, Deathwatch Kill-Team Rapier board the pleasure cruise ship The Hedonist in search of the fallen Cardinal Arocise. He has fallen under the wrathful gaze of the Ordo Xenos as he has stolen a Xenos artefact of terrible power. What caused the once pious Arocise to turn traitor is unknown and a mystery Inquisitor Til Andros intends to unravel. However, the primary objective of her mission is the recovery of the Idol. By any means necessary.
Cast
Islane Til Andros
- Ordo Xenos Inquisitor
- Power Sword / Hellpistol
Captain Ingram – Rapier 1
- Black, gold and silver shoulder pad with the raven sigil.
- Raven Lord Chapter
- Powersword / Ravendoom Bolter
Rhydderch – Rapier 2
- Red Shoulder pad, emblazoned with the triskel sigil.
- Red Druid Chapter
- Force Staff and Boltgun
Heistan – Rapier 3
- Blue shoulder pad, Yellow trim, spear and lightning bolt sigil.
- Storm Spear Chapter
- Craisech – Force Spear / Combi-Plasma Pistol
Zebulon – Rapier 4
- Novamarine Chapter
- Chainsword / Boltgun
The Hedonist
Inquisitor Islane Til Andros stepped off the embarkation ramp of her thunderhawk transporter, into the hangar of the pleasure cruise ship, the Hedonist. Its engines silenced, Islane soaked up the tense atmosphere. Islane removed the single goggle pict-recorder she wore over one of her startling lavender eyes. She let it drop to rest at her throat, giving her a clear view of the carnage around her.
Mangled, mutilated bodies littered the floor. It seemed these passengers before her, these privileged persons judging by the cut of their expensive attire, had had the good sense to try to escape, only to be mercilessly cut to ribbons as they fled. Imperial citizens, the people Islane was sworn to protect, lay in tatters scattered throughout the hangar, their individual life blood pooling together to form a vast crimson lake, slick at her feet. This was fresh blood. Islane's heart raced a little, her pulse elevated, adrenaline pumped through her veins. Finally.
Stony faced and impassive in the face of such savagery to her beloved Imperium, Islane moved amongst the dead. There were at least thirty in this particular area. Older men and young women, barely recognisable as humans any longer. The manifest Islane had acquired before tracking down the Hedonist with her own requisitioned ship the Dauntless, listed three thousand crew members and pleasure seekers. More bodies would follow. Of that Islane was certain.
Heavy footfalls sounded behind her. Islane didn't turn. She dropped to a knee and with a gloved hand closed the screaming, terror filled eyes of a dead young girl of no more than twenty years of age. Her long blood soaked blonde hair, once a work of luxurious art, now ruined and lifeless. Her body seared with shots of las-gun fire. The thought of imperial weapons turned against their own made Islane seethe with fury. She clenched her fists. A great black shadow fell over them both.
"Inquisitor, it is as we expected." The voice calmly rumbled, inhumanly deep. Islane rose, her long legs unfolding with an agile grace. But despite her height Islane reached only the centre of the great shadows chest. She wore her full Inquisitorial regalia, dark and severe, adorned with the symbols of her office. She was a formidable sight, but even her presence was dwarfed by the sheer physical stature of the armoured behemoth behind her.
Islane lay a hand on the aquila pommel of her engraved power sword. It was a single edged slightly curved blade that had taken the lives of countless xenos filth. It was a named blade such was its masterful craftmanship. Impirius.It was Islane's greatest ally alongside her sharp mind. And it was never out of arms reach. Along the belt on which it was strapped her ornate hellpistol. These were her instruments of her wrath in the endless war with the Xenos of the universe. And today they would feast on traitorous Imperial souls.
"Yes, Captain. It seems the Fallen Cardinal Arocise is here." Islane's soft voice ghosted out into the eerie silence of the hangar as she strained her mundane senses. Islane did not possess any latent psyker potential but nevertheless, she was sure she could hear the terrifying screams of dead.
"We dare to dream, Inquisitor." Captain Ingram said, without humour. He thirsted for this battle. "Kill-Team Rapier, form up!" The Captain barked, his voice reverberating around the large room like thunder in the heavens. More heavy metallic footsteps crunched over the floor. The shadow surrounding Inquisitor Til Andros deepened.
Islane turned, her long black hair draped artfully over one shoulder, and looked at the four ceramite-clad giants before her, all donning the signature black armour of the Deathwatch. Their helms were all mag-locked to their leg-plates, revealing fierce looking super-human features. "Remember Captain, bringing Arocise to justice is of secondary importance to the recovery of the Idol." She said, as much to remind herself as her Kill-Team. Captain Ingram nodded.
Islane had pursued Cardinal Arocise for the past six months since his traitorous defection from the Imperium. He had been a popular man in the Ixion region of Imperial territory, drawing millions of penitents to his congregations. His turn to chaos had hurt the Imperial presence in the sector. Deemed of grave importance to bring him to justice, greater powers than that the PDF of Arocise's home planet of Gomora were commanded to hunt him down. The fact that he had stolen the Idol made the choice of hunter that much easier. Only one institution was suitable. The Ordo Xenos Inquisition and their militant arm, the elite Deathwatch Chapter. Active in this region, Inquisitor Islane Til Andros answered the call from the Inquisition hierarchy and as was her prerogative she requisitioned a Deathwatch Kill-Team to assist.
The chase had been a difficult one for the Space Marines; the false trails, the lack of intense warfare. To Islane they seemed to spend the majority of their time physically training with their weapons, trying with of all their enhanced might to gain the better of each other. Sometimes she would see Captain Ingram and Rhydderch studying data-slates of texts within the Dauntless library. Never had she seen Heistan and Zebulon other than in the training area. But they had all remained patient, knowing that they were executing their God-Emperor's Will. In the daily briefings which Islane headed to provide the up to date details of their pursuit, they all recognised a cunning in the movements of the Cardinal Arocise that was wholly unexpected. There was more to this unfolding mystery that had yet to come to light. The anticipation of an unknown confrontation kept them all focused, Islane included.
The Deathwatch thunderhawk that delivered the Inquisitor fired its engines and made to return back to the Dauntless. The engines blew a hot, fierce gust of wind causing Islane's thick cloak to billow. Islane did not flinch in the face of the furious roar of the engines. She calmly raised a fist to her pilot, Jans Ribben and tapped the earpiece that would allow her to communicate with her ship, indicating that when she needed him, she'd call. Ribben returned her signal with a two fingered salute.
"We should return to the Dauntless and reduce this traitorous ship to rubble." This gravel voice belonged to the red bearded Heistan. His shoulder was emblazoned with the blue shoulder plate of the Storm Spears and his face was beautified by a shocking red beard, a stark contrast to his entirely hairless head. He held in his powerful hand his craisech, the signature force spear used by his Chapter, his bolter was mag-locked to his leg plate.
"No, Storm Spear. The Idolis on this boat. It must be retaken and secure in our possession before any scuttling takes place." Islane snapped, her cool demeanour slipping, revealing the barely contained anger beneath. Despite being dwarfed by the Astartes before her, Islane brooked no insolence. Her word was final. "Disable all the ships in this hangar then we head out. Arocise will not escape this time!"
The Space Marines moved out at once. Islane watched them allowing her ire to ebb, marvelling at the grace that belied their incredible size. Swiftly and methodically they fanned out cleverly severing cables and fuel pipes, outright destroying other engines with small adhesive explosive charges. The red shouldered Rhydderch took a different approach to his brothers as his force staff bristled with lavender esoteric energy he crushed engines with the merest flick of his gauntleted hand.
Rhydderch had been drawn from The Red Druids of the Brythonic Sector. An enigmatic Space Marine Chapter, as far removed from Imperial society as was possible and formed from the geneseed of the Blood Ravens Chapter. The Red Druids followed their legacy of their parent Chapter and were notorious for their dearth of psykers and enigmatic culture. On the fringes of Imperial space, the Red Druids slowly executed its mandate away from the watchful and distrustful eyes of the Lords of Terra. However, the chance to enhance the Chapters standing was one that could not be missed and when the invitation to join the Deathwatch was received Rhydderch's Chapter Master accepted on his behalf, despite his own protestations to remain with his chapter.
Ingram, the Raven Lord and Captain of this Deathwatch Kill-Team had tried on many occasions to cajole information from Rhydderch regarding his Chapter, but the Red Druid had always been coy. Ingram eventually gave up. Rhydderch was a psyker of terrifying power and a wise and knowledgeable Astartes, who had become a counsellor to Ingram the six years they had spent serving together within Kill-Team Rapier. Ingram had often mused that perhaps Rhydderch was the equivalent of his Lord Esstryk, supreme psyker of the Raven Lords Chapter. Perhaps, he was even stronger. All that really concerned Ingram was that Rhydderch was a proven, powerful ally, who had earned his place in this squad for his wisdom as much as his ability to bring death and destruction to the abominations within this galaxy.
"Do you sense anything Brother Rhydderch?" Ingram asked, eager to hear the counsel of his mysterious battle-brother hoping he had discerned some hidden insight with his attunement to the empyrean. Ingram knew the value of those who walk the precipice between madness and oblivion. Ingram was always thankful to have Rhydderch by his side.
Rhydderch paused for a moment. Letting the warp energy radiating from his staff dissipate. He turned to his leader, his eyes an ethereal green. "Yes. The touch of chaos is certainly still here." Rhydderch was no different from his battle brothers, he too had forgone his helm revealing short brown hair and patrician, noble features. Such features were common to all the people of his homeworld Arthuria.
"Excellent. A formidable enemy at last. Not like Doria V. Those Orks were pitiful." It was Zebulon who now broke his silence. Zebulon was the youngest of Kill-Team Rapier. He was an exuberant Space Marine, prone to great bouts of laughter and mirth. He was often times rash and heedless of peril, such were the young. His youthful unblemished face was framed with shoulder length, dishevelled blonde hair bearing a stark contrast to the eldest member of the Kill-Team Ingram, with his greying black hair and weathered, scarred features. Heistan laughed. Those two had become fast friends since coming together two years prior.
"Easy, Novamarine. Arocise is a dangerous man. The Emperor only knows the power he has tapped into since his flight from the Ecclesiarchy on Gomora. And do not forget he has the Idol. We approach with caution." Islane called back to her warrior as she walked through the dead, whispering benedictions of remembrance and peace, swearing vows of vengeance.
Islane stood next to the control console to the hangar bay doors that opened into the main structure of the Hedonist. The space crafts disabled, Ingram led his brothers in a diamond formation, Zebulon to his right, Heistan to his left and Rhydderch bringing up the rear, to her position. The Deathwatch Kill-Team donned their helms. Neon green eyes flamed into life on their visors, their grim visage complete.
Whatever treacherous game Arocise was playing, he had finally showed his hand by, and Islane had no embarrassment acknowledging this, allowing himself to be cornered about this boat. That in itself gave Islane a pause for thought. Had the nefarious scheme he had embarked upon come to fruition? It was time to find out.
Islane crashed a gloved fist against a red emergency button and the doors screeched and protested to slide open, as if the ships sentience was trying to protect these loyal imperial warriors from the horrors within. Islane noted the ships concern. A wave of death and decay swept out of the corridor, engulfing them all. Islane loosened her blade in its scabbard and restored her pict-recorder goggle over her left eye. She clicked record. Her superiors would want a record of events.
"Kill-Team Rapier. Move out!"