Eons ago, long before mankind had left its cradle, the forces of Chaos existed. Twisted and incomprehensible to mortal minds, they fueled the endless madness of the forty-first millennium. For every soul they corrupted, and every emotion felt, only added to the power of Chaos. No matter how the forces of man struggled, their wars and conflict will not end the threat of Chaos, of damnation and the laughter of the thirsting dark-gods.
Hands resting lightly under his chin, Inquisitor Everard Gerage merely watched the battle over the hive world of Fortune. The images of explosions, void shields shimmering and innumerable gun ports firing was not something uncommon to his eyes. A single Murder Class cruiser remained after hours of spacial combat. Even now, the proud,but disgustingly corrupted form of the cruiser was reduced to a battered husk of its former self. Everard merely smiled grimly at the sight.
"All starboard gun batteries, fire. Death to the heretics" Captain Macclesius calmly ordered. His face was impassive, but confident. The vibration from thousands of weapons discharging could be felt throughout the ship."And prepare the Nova Cannon, I wish for this farce to be dealt with -"
"No" Everard shook his head, and made eye contact with the admiral, " I wish to capture this heretic, discover where the rest of his craven-ilk hides. Then destroy them. We cannot do that if we atomize them." Although his zealousness is praiseworthy, it must be tempered with caution, very few men survive an encounter with daemons and traitors. " For a decade, we have chased this heretic, and by the blessings of the Emperor, have the opportunity to end him. However, we must have patience. Macclesius, you have served me well through these years - from the fringe worlds to the galactic core - yet do not forget our purpose."
"We live to serve Him" Finished Macclesius, reclining slightly on his command throne. He smiled and nodded slightly with blood-thirsty determination in his eyes, " Very well. Gun crews, target their engines. I want them disabled and ready for boarding action. Victory to the Emperor's finest. Death to his enemies."
A chorus of acknowledgements stemmed from consoles. Macclesius relaxed, making eye contact with Everard, "Soon this will be over, a decade of service to the inquisition. Everard, I will prepare boarding torpedoes for yourself and some of my best men. As you know, victory here will be a crushing blow to the cult movement in this entire sub sector. The Emperor be with you."
"He always is," Everard raised himself and sighed quietly, "Heresy never ends, a cruel joke for a servant of the Emperor."
Macclesius continued to communicate through his command throne, ignoring the inquisitor as he left the bridge of the heavy cruiser.
Everard walked through the twisted and cold passageways of the heavy cruiser. It had served the Emperor's Will for hundreds of years, killed countless enemies, and for once it was oddly quiet. Hallways and corridors were completely devoid of life. Only the occasional rumble from impacts or energy discharges reminded him of the battle underway. "For a decade, this is what I have sought. The end to the heretic Ballel, a thorn in the Inquisition's side. His leadership of the cult Arcadia and his corruption of the planetary government of Fortune have cost too many lives of loyal imperial servants... but why does he reveal himself now? How can he be so bold?" So engrossed in thought Everard almost missed the entrance to armory. Mentally chiding himself, he walked towards the grey passage way that lead to his armor and weapons.
Entering the armory almost guaranteed a questioning from the Magos. Tech-priest were curious by nature, but also introverted to the extreme. Almost like inquisitors.
"Greetings Lord Inquisitor" Came a synthesized voice, "The captain has informed me of your plans to board the cruiser. I believe that it is an unwise course of action, but Omnissiah willing, you will be successful in your en devour."Everard merely looked at the Magos. He almost smiled at their predictability. The Magos ignored the almost amused face of Everard and nodded, as if in thought, " Your armor will be ready shortly, the vox upgrades that you have requested have been installed with minimal difficulties."
"My thanks Magos Helliah, your work deserves far more praise than I give you. Your services to the inquisition will not be forgotten" Everard told, merely as if stating a simple fact. Sarcasm or praise did not truly matter from those not of the priesthood.
Magos Heliah, by human standards, was almost titanic in proportions. His body had been almost completely replaced with metal and alloys, even his face was an adamantium mask with glowing green irises. A red robe symbolized his association to the martian priest hood, effectively covering the rest of his augmentations and mechandrites. Truly, the tech-priests were an order to be admired, and feared. "Another word Inquisitor, if it pleases you"
Everard raised his eyebrows, rarely did the Magos ask him a question. Usually Everard would ask questions, and hope that he would be a satisfactory answer from the Magos. Damned secretive.
"Where did you discover the vox amplifier? It appears to be a piece of archeotech, perhaps a remnant of the dark ago of technology. I could not scan the materials without running into interference, and the installation of this technology was far easier than anticipated. When testing its range and frequency, it was superior to even my interfaces and blessed circuits. This is a discovery that could benefit the Mechanicus, as well as the Imperium. If possible, after the conclusion of your mission, I would like to bring back the vox amplifier to mars for further study."
This was not what Everard was expecting. He narrowed his eyes, "The Mechanicus has many secrets, and power, some would say too much. If I were to agree with your proposal, how could I ensure that this archeotech would be distributed throughout the Imperium and not held in some vault on Mars? Even the agents of the Inquisition struggle to learn the mysteries and workings of the Martian priesthood, let alone what they do with sanctified technology."
Heliah's irises fluttered, as if guilty. "You have my word as Magos. The priesthood of Mars is many things, however, it is not dishonorable. We shall distribute this technology as a boon to the Imperium, and it shall better safeguard it from the threats of xenos, traitors and heretics." The Magos bobbed his head, as if agreeing with himself. Interesting.
Knowing if the Magos learned of his own twisted amusement, he would no doubt be less accomadating, Everard looked away. Happy with his small victory over the Magos. He was lucky that Heliah was not as orthodox, or inflexible as some of the other tech-priests. They would have never allowed the implementation of advanced technology, or relics without Everard losing something of equal value. If they lose knowledge, they lose power. And if they lose power, the Inquisition gains it. Truly the Emperor had blessed him with an interesting retinue. "It seems that the terms are acceptable, soI accept. Now,as enjoyable as our brief discussion was, I hope that you understand that I do not have the pleasure of an extended visit. If the armor is done now, I wish to be suited in it - there is barely enough time to ready the boarding torpedoes without the threat of more heretics entering the system."
A green light illuminated the room, and the Magos immediately turned around, his artificial legs propelling him at a startling speed. Almost without thought he added, "Your armor is being cleaned and tested for errors, the room behind us will service as a fitting area. It will be ready momentarily, also your weapons will be brought to you. Keep in mind, proper prayers must be offered to it's machine spirits to keep it functional." With that said, the Magos left the room, and the door way sealed with a pneumatic hiss.
Without further ado, Everard marched into the fitting area, and ignored the three servitors who were most likely cleaning or testing his armor. Almost immediately after he entered, the tallest one turned to look at him. It was vaguely human, with half of it's "face" replaced with smooth metal, and the other half eerily blank. It's mouth did not move, but it vocalized a muttering of words so rapidly that the Inquisitor was taken aback.
"Apologies, speech has been calibrated for Inquisitor Everard Gerage. Please relax, allow the rituals of armament to begin, it shall take only a moment of time."
The actual procedure involved far too many scented candles, wax and scripts in Everard's opinion, but the Mechanicus was allowed these quirks because of their contributions to the Imperial war machine. After some time, his chest piece, shin piece and arm guards were placed. Hexogramic wards were inscribed tastefully in the armor to serve as protection against the pskyers that would be found on the heretic's ship. His armor itself was a drab-grey color, with little ornamentation as compared to some of the more affluent or vain members of the inquisition. It was not comparable to the fabled power armor of the space marines, but it was far superior to the rank-and-file flak vests worn by guardsmen. A single rosarius was embedded in his chest piece - a gift from his mentor at the beginning of his career.
"Where are my weapons servitor?"
Its raspy voice almost whispered, "They are being brought to you, the Magos was insistent that they be consecrated before your battle against the heretics."
Everard fought back an almost impulsive acknowledgement of what was said. Servitors had no mind for thanks, they only existed to serve the interests of their masters. Such things, while useful, were an eerie reminder of the alien ways of the Mechanicus. Without further pause, another servitor, almost identical to the first, brought a cloth-covered weapon. On spidery legs, it lurched towards him, and presented him with the weapon. Everard took great care in unwrapping it from its cloth sheath and his lips twitched upwards. A simple power sword, well made and unadorned. It's blade was grey, but did not shine. It was the weapon he had used throughout his two hundred and twenty years of service to the Emperor.
"Your Hell Pistol will also be brought to you. The Magos recommends not using it as a close-combat weapon, as its frame is not designed to fracture the skulls of Orks."
Even the servitors had some sense of humor, which almost made Everard shake his head. Years ago, the Magos had been quite angry when he had used his Hell pistol to bash the skull of an Ork Nob because he had been disarmed of his sword on some unremarkable world. And when it was brought to the attention of the Magos that his pistol did not function anymore, the Magos was understandably...furious. It took many days in order for him to even acknowledge Everard's existance, let alone repair the damned thing.
Luckily, there were no more errands to do before the boarding action against the heretics. Everard simply followed directions labelled at the end of hallways and corridors. A light jog in his armor sent tremors through the floor. Even though it was a basic form of powered armor, providing minimal augments, it was still quite heavy. Everard merely took frequent and deep breathes of the stale and recycled air of the naval ship. Who knows if I'll get the opportunity to do so on board a ship marked by Chaos, or even if they can breathe on it. Regardless, he was confident that Ballel would be killed by the end of the day.
"My Lord, the torpedoes are ready for launch, please follow me to the staging area." A small naval arms man greeted nervously. His small stature was completely shadowed by Everard, and his eyes glanced upwards at his intimidating form. "The Captain wishes to inform you that the heretic-cruiser is now disabled and venting atmosphere."
A small grunt of acknowledgement was all the arms man received before Everard marched past him.
The firing lines of the warship was nearly as long as the ship itself. Kilometers of guns, stacks of munitions and groups of slave-loading crews made a cacophony of sounds that grated on the Inquisitor's ears. Thankfully the largest of the lance batteries and cannons were silent, so the sounds were not truly deafening. Striding past the motley groups that sat around or were forced into exhaustive tasks by grueling task-masters only made Everard all the more eager to leave the ship. Near the gothic buttresses and alcoves was a single, albeit massive, boarding torpedo. Assembled outside of it was a mass of arms men, and a mixture of Everard's small retinue. The Magos was absent, leaving only the scarred and grizzled storm trooper Kessian, as well as his apprentice, the young Pskyer Media.
Kessian shouldered his hell gun, and waved his arms in a lazy salute. His helmet did not give away much facial expression, but the glint in his red eye pieces and his deceptively calm body position was only a sign of his eagerness to fight. In contrast, Media was a young girl from the habs of some forgotten was covered in a brown cloak that almost hid her entire body, and despite his urging, did not remove it. Everard only scouted her when on the chase for Ballel. Having an unsanctioned Pskyer was a dire risk, discovery meant condemnation and possibly death from the other more puritan member of the inquisition. Fortunately, Media has had no problems in controlling her cursed power. Blue eyes looked up to him "My Lord Everard...Is this where our investigation ends?" Her hands twitched slightly. Adorable.
"Hmm" Everard drawled slightly "I would say so. Whether we live or die, we still do the Emperor's Will. The heretic Ballel will die, and his cult will be destroyed. If not by us, then by others. No one can escape the Emperor's Wrath, not even if they hide behind dark gods and evil deeds."
Media did not seem overly satisfied with that answer, and only lightly fingered her psykic inhibitor. A small ring that served as a way to limit the warp's pull on her soul, and give her the appearance of a sanctioned pskyer.
The various arms men snapped to attention around him. Las guns pointed in a traditional salute. Everard was almost surprised.
"Inquisitor, if I could have a word." The voice caused Everard to turn around sharply. The captain was a silent man, uncanny in his stealth. If his arms men did not salute, he would have been almost invisible. He stood at attention, only a dozen feet from him. But his eyes looked tired, and almost regretful, "This is the culmination of a decade of effort, a decade of investigations and chases. I remember the time you first commandeered my vessel for service in the Inquisition. I resisted as best as I could, and made you promise that at its conclusion, that I would be free. Although these years were anything but easy, I just wish to express how it was a pleasure to serve under you, "He chocked back a strangled cough," And how I wish you luck against the heretic. If I could do this again, then by the Emperor, I would." Captain Macclesius made the gesture of the aquilla, and moved forward to shake his hand."I would call you friend if you would allow it."
"I would" Everard gave him a firm hand shake, " I also wish to thank you and your crew for your service to me, to the inquisition, and to the Emperor. Truly, you are all exemplify the very nature of service to the Imperium. I will not forget your actions, and If I am ever in need of another vessel, I know who to contact. Only if you would have me aboard again."
The captain nodded and stepped back, "I have given you command of my best arms men, veterans of ship-to-ship combat. They will not be found wanting in your service." and with that, the captain left. Only Everard would never see him again.
This is just an author's note. If you could tell, this is my first story. I am somewhat lazy (I'll freely admit), but I do not abandon my stories. I know how it feels to read a good story that has never been updated.
BTW italics means Everard's thoughts. This is an unorthodox writing style, and it may take some time getting used to. Please run with it.
That being said, updates may or may not be periodic. I will not have a schedule, so I'll post when I post.
I hope you enjoyed reading it.
PS I do not own Mass effect of Warhammer. They belong to Bioware and games workshop, respectively.