Alaric Vern, vindicare assassin, agent of the holy Inquision, watches like a hawk, ready to bring death to the enemies of the Imperium. He is a shadow, and he is death. His exitus rifle held against his cheek, the sight travelling from one face to the next, ready to bring holy retribution. Solaria Inez, sister of the holy order hospitallier, wanders an amassed crowd before the towering marble edifice of the imperial cathedral. She only half listens to the saintly words of the bishop, who is trying to reassure the imperial citizenry that imperial law is as right as ever. She watches like an avenging angel, eagerly seeking the serpent sign of those who brought the world into lawlessness and chaos, and who would still bring it lower
"Solaria, see anything?" Alaric is terse and vengeful. His hatred of chaos knows no bounds, and he chaffs at a chance to finally bring an end to the order of the serpent, a heretic cult he and solaria had dueled with several times. Several times too many for his taste. "No Alaric not yet I'll keep searching" Her soft green eyes, diligently searching for the serpent's sign. He hand gently placed on her bolter at her side. A glimmer of gold catches her eyes and the sister has spotted the assassin with the serpents' pendent, but instantly she is frozen with fear. To her dismay, the assassin in question is the leader of The Order of the Torch. She has seen him in the church on man occasions.
She always believed him a gentle, kind man. Solaria can't move an inch, overcome with so many mixed and unfathomable emotions. "Solaria, what is it? Can you confirm the identity of the heretic?" There is a definite edge of worry in Alaric's voice. He has never seen Solaria freeze in a crucial situation like this. The bishop's speech is rousing the crowd, pockets of loyalist and dissenters are turning the crowd into an ocean of violent potential. Solaria's hands are shaking. The medical equipment on her arms rattles. She remembers his face when she first entered the Order. He was so gentle to her, giving her a small gift on his visits. Her mind tears itself in two, in a desperate act to regain control of her body she reaches for the laser pointer on her shoulder.
With every effort of her body she clicks the small black button on it marking the target. Alaric doesn't miss a second. The world slows, and the milliseconds crawl by. His heart rate is slowed, mantras ingrained in his psyche bring his heart to an aching 2 beats a minute. In a moment, he has acquired the targets center mass, accounted for destabilizing shot factors. "Exitus exacta proba", and he squeezes the trigger. Solaria's heart pumps rapidly in her chest. Her breathing muffled her facemask. In her whole life, she would have never thought such a man would turn to Chaos for power and corruption.
The compassion for the Ecclesiarchy her displayed to her was all just a disgraceful, horrid lie. She met the heretic when she first entered the Order, after she was rescued from a world plagued by disease and the stench of decay, caused by a cult of Chaos on her home world. She remembers it was a rainy day, Thunder clapped in her 6 year old ears. She was cold and hungry, fresh of the ship that brought to her new home, Terra. Soaking wet and cold she was brought before a tall man, the heretic, but at the time his name was Brother Marcus.
He greeted her kindly and asked her questions that she could barely answer. She told him that she wanted to join the sisterhood. He kindly explained that she was too young but that if she took vows he would allow her to live at the church and if she shows excellent skills needed in the Hospilliters, that he would have her join once she got older. She immediately took her vows and never looked back. It angers her now that she was deceived by the wretched lies of Brother Marcus. Her heart wrenches at the thought. In an instant the heretical assassin fell backwards a fresh splatter of crimson blood sprayed the stage.
Then the crack of Alaric's exitus rifle silenced the reveling crowd. Solaria's mind returned to her body and she glanced up for a second, of coarse her partner Alaric was gone. He was like a shadow that man, ever elusive and secretive. And that is what there Inquisitor valued in him. Solaria, being a devoted and loyal servant of the God-Emperor, favored zealous and face to face attacks. Her battle-torn bolter and ebony chainsword strapped to her belt. The crowd suddenly roars in confusion and disarray. Solaria sees that several other members of the cult reveal themselves and run off. She targets one of them and runs after him, pushing through the rebelling crowd. The heels of her boots clatter on the ceramite street, as she chased the heretic. The blackness of his robes flap in the breeze as he turned a dark corner down and alleyway.