WH40K: The Truth of a Radical
Moderator: LadyTevar
Wow... Great story so far, Kuja!
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
The Inquisition, as broad as it is, can't be expected to see to every detail in an empire of a million worlds and untold billions of citizens. It's very easy to slip under the radar as long as you're not headstrong. For example, Gregor Eisenhorn let the heretic Fade Thuring gallivant around for eighty years IIRC, even after Thuring killed one of his associates. He just wasn't a high enough threat level.Duken wrote:Wouldn't the inquisition have killed Zefram and his mother just to be sure he wasn't tainted?
Besides which, Zefram's mother could easily have distanced herself from his father by saying the baby belonged to somone else; perhaps a victim of the cult, which would probably score points with the Arbites. Besides which, if she knew just what his father had done, gave birth in secret, and had him cover his eye even as a baby, she could concievably get away with it. In addition to all that, she was a downhiver, and the Arbites don't exactly care much about folks like them. They're disposable.
JADAFETWA
I kept one hand clamped on Zefram's shoulder as we made our way through the sewers. My other hand jammed the pistol into his back. Part of me still wanted to shoot him and finish the matter there. According to my training, I should have shot him the moment I'd learned the truth. Puritanical thinking does not leave room for heretics and the tainted. Even so, I found myself reluctant in the extreme and as a result I was taking my frustration out on Zefram, who by now was a nervous wreck with a gun shoved into his back.
Nowadays, I can't believe I was ever such a callous fool.
Time passed as we wandered through the darkness. On occasion, Zefram would stumble against something, at which point I would quickly step back and keep the gun pointed at him until he regained his balance. I never spoke, but he kept up a stream of nervous comments and observations that I largely ignored. Finally, he tripped over something solid and fell forward into the brackish water with a yelp.
Despite the situation, the corners of my mouth threatened to turn upwards.
He gathered himself up on his hands and knees with a grunt. "This is damn stupid," he suddenly said. "I can't see a frigging thing."
With reluctance, I had to admit he was right. The sewers had gone from near-black to pitch-black. For the last hour or so, I had kept my hand on Zefram's shoulder to make sure he was there as much as to keep him from pulling anything. "Can you make a guess as to where we are?" I said evenly.
"No, I damn well can't," he spat. A moment later, he remembered how deep he was in. "No, I can't, Inquisitor," he said in a much more humble tone. A moment passed in silence. My finger left the trigger of the gun – a foolish move, had Zefram chosen to become violent – and tapped the barrel idly. Zefram coughed politely. "Inquisitor, I could find my way if I took this off," he said softly, gesturing at the eyepatch. "May I-"
"You most certainly may not!" I snapped. He winced. In the heat of the moment, my finger slipped back onto the trigger. More time passed as I attempted in vain to find a way out that didn't involve the use of warpcraft. Finally, I gave up and made the sign of the aquila. "Alright mutant," I said sharply. "We do it your way." As he stood up, my hand again found his shoulder and squeezed viciously. At the same time, I leaned forward and hissed into his ear. "But if you even think of turning to look at me with that eye of yours, I'll shoot you, gouge it out, and leave you here. Because even if I can't find my way out without you, I'd rather die alone in the dark than let an abhuman like you go free. Do you understand?"
"I-I understand," he said. With that he reached up – very slowly – and carefully removed the eyepatch. A moment later, a soft blue light began to illuminate the corridor before us. Despite the abominable source, I had to admit that it was a very pretty sort of sight. For a moment, it faded away completely, then returned full force. I was briefly confused, then nearly laughed aloud. Of course the light had vanished – Zefram still needed to blink from time to time. On some deep level, it was reassuring.
With Zefram's eye guiding us, we quickly found our way out of the deeper warrens we'd wandered into and made our way back towards the surface, the light from his eye guiding us. The journey was silent and uneventful. Finally, I began to notice that the ambient light was growing. Zefram noticed it as well, and before I even thought of it, closed his eye and replaced the patch.
We finally broke through to the surface in the outer fifth ring of Corvinas by removing a manhole cover. After the dark and cold sewers, the fading sunlight felt like a blessing from the Emperor himself. For a moment, Zefram looked like he was going to try and bolt, but then he set his face into an expression of grim determination and spoke. "I think the nearest military presence is this way," he said with a jerk of his head. We walked in silence until we were but a stone's throw away from the encampment of the Cadian 422nd Infantry. He finally stopped walking and swallowed. "So...what happens now?" he asked.
I was silent for a full minute as I looked him up and down. Finally, I flicked the safety on the stub gun and tossed it to him. He nearly dropped it, but recovered at the last moment. "Go on," I said firmly. "I'm not going to shoot you."
I turned to walk away when he spoke again. "I-Inquisitor?" he asked. I turned and fixed my gaze to his as he licked his lips nervously. With a flash of insight, I knew what he was about to ask a split-second before he asked it. "Do you think...do you think that maybe I...maybe I could come with you? I mean...I could...I could help you..." he slowly trailed off, as though his words were insufficient to explain the depths of his feeling.
So there it was. The silent plea of every downhiver. The deep-rooted desire to "get out, get out, get OUT" of the most terrible places to be found in the Imperium. A desire that ran so deep and so strong people have been known to lie, cheat, and even murder to get out. And here I stood with the opportunity to grant one of these people their wish and, to kill two birds with one stone, keep a potentially dangerous mutant under my eye. It must have taken Zefram every ounce of courage he'd possessed to say such a thing to me. I remained silent as I considered his words while he stood before me and nervously fidgeted. Finally, I spoke.
"I don't consort with the tainted."
I turned and walked away without waiting to see his reaction.
Nowadays, I can't believe I was ever such a callous fool.
Time passed as we wandered through the darkness. On occasion, Zefram would stumble against something, at which point I would quickly step back and keep the gun pointed at him until he regained his balance. I never spoke, but he kept up a stream of nervous comments and observations that I largely ignored. Finally, he tripped over something solid and fell forward into the brackish water with a yelp.
Despite the situation, the corners of my mouth threatened to turn upwards.
He gathered himself up on his hands and knees with a grunt. "This is damn stupid," he suddenly said. "I can't see a frigging thing."
With reluctance, I had to admit he was right. The sewers had gone from near-black to pitch-black. For the last hour or so, I had kept my hand on Zefram's shoulder to make sure he was there as much as to keep him from pulling anything. "Can you make a guess as to where we are?" I said evenly.
"No, I damn well can't," he spat. A moment later, he remembered how deep he was in. "No, I can't, Inquisitor," he said in a much more humble tone. A moment passed in silence. My finger left the trigger of the gun – a foolish move, had Zefram chosen to become violent – and tapped the barrel idly. Zefram coughed politely. "Inquisitor, I could find my way if I took this off," he said softly, gesturing at the eyepatch. "May I-"
"You most certainly may not!" I snapped. He winced. In the heat of the moment, my finger slipped back onto the trigger. More time passed as I attempted in vain to find a way out that didn't involve the use of warpcraft. Finally, I gave up and made the sign of the aquila. "Alright mutant," I said sharply. "We do it your way." As he stood up, my hand again found his shoulder and squeezed viciously. At the same time, I leaned forward and hissed into his ear. "But if you even think of turning to look at me with that eye of yours, I'll shoot you, gouge it out, and leave you here. Because even if I can't find my way out without you, I'd rather die alone in the dark than let an abhuman like you go free. Do you understand?"
"I-I understand," he said. With that he reached up – very slowly – and carefully removed the eyepatch. A moment later, a soft blue light began to illuminate the corridor before us. Despite the abominable source, I had to admit that it was a very pretty sort of sight. For a moment, it faded away completely, then returned full force. I was briefly confused, then nearly laughed aloud. Of course the light had vanished – Zefram still needed to blink from time to time. On some deep level, it was reassuring.
With Zefram's eye guiding us, we quickly found our way out of the deeper warrens we'd wandered into and made our way back towards the surface, the light from his eye guiding us. The journey was silent and uneventful. Finally, I began to notice that the ambient light was growing. Zefram noticed it as well, and before I even thought of it, closed his eye and replaced the patch.
We finally broke through to the surface in the outer fifth ring of Corvinas by removing a manhole cover. After the dark and cold sewers, the fading sunlight felt like a blessing from the Emperor himself. For a moment, Zefram looked like he was going to try and bolt, but then he set his face into an expression of grim determination and spoke. "I think the nearest military presence is this way," he said with a jerk of his head. We walked in silence until we were but a stone's throw away from the encampment of the Cadian 422nd Infantry. He finally stopped walking and swallowed. "So...what happens now?" he asked.
I was silent for a full minute as I looked him up and down. Finally, I flicked the safety on the stub gun and tossed it to him. He nearly dropped it, but recovered at the last moment. "Go on," I said firmly. "I'm not going to shoot you."
I turned to walk away when he spoke again. "I-Inquisitor?" he asked. I turned and fixed my gaze to his as he licked his lips nervously. With a flash of insight, I knew what he was about to ask a split-second before he asked it. "Do you think...do you think that maybe I...maybe I could come with you? I mean...I could...I could help you..." he slowly trailed off, as though his words were insufficient to explain the depths of his feeling.
So there it was. The silent plea of every downhiver. The deep-rooted desire to "get out, get out, get OUT" of the most terrible places to be found in the Imperium. A desire that ran so deep and so strong people have been known to lie, cheat, and even murder to get out. And here I stood with the opportunity to grant one of these people their wish and, to kill two birds with one stone, keep a potentially dangerous mutant under my eye. It must have taken Zefram every ounce of courage he'd possessed to say such a thing to me. I remained silent as I considered his words while he stood before me and nervously fidgeted. Finally, I spoke.
"I don't consort with the tainted."
I turned and walked away without waiting to see his reaction.
JADAFETWA
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Singular Quartet
- Sith Marauder
- Posts: 3896
- Joined: 2002-07-04 05:33pm
- Location: This is sky. It is made of FUCKING and LIMIT.
Yes, but I don't do well with these war-laden stories; they aren't really my thing. So I wrongfully try to wrap them into stories I'm more familiar with. A thousand apologies, good sir.Singular Quartet wrote:Indoctorination is a very powerful thing, Zaia, especially in the... Imperium of Man is it? I forget. To many goddamned empires to keep track of...
"On the infrequent occasions when I have been called upon in a formal place to play the bongo drums, the introducer never seems to find it necessary to mention that I also do theoretical physics." -Richard Feynman
*surprised* She so didna just do that!!!!! *glowers, and hopes something get's her*
the longer i wait,the more i forget.the more i forget, the longer the list of desires grows. for that which is wanted is forbidden. and we all know that forbidden fruit is often the sweetest.Don'tcha wish your g/f was a witch like me?~*~AYVBABTU
Typical religous bigotry.
But another chapter well-done. Bravo!
But another chapter well-done. Bravo!
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
Over the next two weeks, I spent a good portion of my time regretting my decision. Letting Zefram go had been a mistake, and I cursed myself for that one moment of weakness. I had gone against my Inquisitorial training, and I just knew that no good would come of it. Whenever I stopped to think, my mind conjured up various terrible consequences of letting the mutant out of my sight when I should have had him dealt with. I constantly prayed that I would get a chance to set things right, even though I knew it was most likely in vain.
Fate has a strange way of surprising us.
It was midmorning when the rumours reached the palace, rumours of a heretic appearing in the largest of the Ecclesiarchy cathedrals and causing a commotion. With a feeling of dread forming in my gut, I excused myself from whatever it was I had been doing up to that point (to this day, I cannot recall) and hurried there. As the cathedral loomed before me, I felt my uneasiness growing. A crowd had gathered around the entrance, but a quick flash of the rosette and a few choice words caused them to part without incident as I bulled my way through.
Once on the inside, I was met by Father Confessor Pelvale, who hurriedly escorted me towards the altar. As we quickly walked through the rows of pews, he assured me that although the danger seemed over, they had cleared out the cathedral to be on the safe side. I nodded and asked for a description of this renegade who had appeared in our midst. "Well," he said. "I can't rightly say. All I remember is a bright blue glow coming from his face."
The knot in my stomach twisted tighter, and I reached down to unstrap my boltgun.
The precaution proved to be unnecessary.
Zefram's body lay just before the cathedral altar in a pool of blood, bracketed by the bodies of several Ecclesiarches. He lay on his right side, curled into a fetal position. The blood came from two injuries, the larger in his stomach, the smaller from a ragged and gory tear were his right eye had once been. His remaining eye was closed. I stood over him and wondered, not altogether idly, if I had been the one to drive him to this. "What happened?" I asked the gathered priests and other holy men. They promptly replied with three or four different versions of the story, and it took several hours before I managed to create a clear picture.
The final version given to me was this.
Zefram had barged into the morning mass, gutshot by a bolter round. Delirious from the blood loss, he had staggered through the congregation, shoving those who didn't get out of his way fast enough, shouting something about needed to be cleansed.
Before the frightened eyes of the people, he had collapsed before the altar. As the Ecclesiarches surrounded him, Zefram had begged for their aid, rambling about how he had strayed from the Emperor and needed to become pure again. Compassionate men that they were, the priests began to minister to him. But he interrupted their liturgies by staggering to his feet and snarling that a simple confession would do nothing for him; he literally needed to cut away a piece of himself in order to be clean again.
What happened next was the stuff of nightmares and whispered tales. Zefram had torn the eyepatch from his face and allowed the blue light from his eye to shine forth. Four men had died in that terrible light, their minds burned away before they could avert their gazes. Then, before the eyes of the panicking congregation, Zefram had staggered to the altar, taken up a candlestick, and...
I didn't want to think about what he'd done next.
I stood silently over him, unable to tear my eyes away. I didn't understand. I had expected to feel...satisfied, that my choice had not come back to haunt me. Comforted, because a dangerous mutant had been removed. Pleased, because he had excised the heretical part of himself before dying.
I felt none of that.
Instead, what filled me was a sense of loss and shame. A man had died. A man had died when he had not needed to. And he had died because of my callousness.
A shimmer caught my eye, and I crouched beside Zefram's body. I realized that he held something in his left hand, something attached to a silver chain. I reached down and gently pried open his bloody fingers.
The double-headed eagle of the Imperium, the aquilae, looked up at me. Made of some type of steel and painted a vibrant green, Zefram had clutched the talisman so tightly that its sharp edges had sliced into his hand, leaving it bloody. I plucked the symbol of mankind from him and almost automatically wiped the blood from it. I looked at it for a moment, then, as if drawn by some outside force, I turned to look up at the massive portrait of the Emperor that was painted on the opposite wall of the cathedral.
They say the Emperor lies within the Golden Throne on Terra as he slowly withers away. But on that day on Beritan, He was there, watching me. When I looked up at His face, I could not tear my eyes away. As if directed by His will and not my own, my hands found the clasp to the silver chain and opened it. I slid the chain around my neck and closed the lock, leaving the noble aquilae hanging against my breastbone.
Finally, I looked back down and bent over Zefram. "You are pure," I whispered, my words so soft that only I could hear them. "I was wrong to call you tainted." With that, I gently kissed him on his temple and stood.
"Madam Inquisitor?" one of the men ventured. I barely heard him.
"Take him," I said softly. "Give him a proper burial."
"Madam?"
I turned. "He is cleansed. You have the Inquisition's word for that. Give him full rights."
"Full rights," the nearest man repeated, sounding like he was in a trance.
I turned at walked away, my footsteps echoing throughout the halls. I felt that I had changed somehow. I wondered whether it would be for the better or worse.
Fate has a strange way of surprising us.
It was midmorning when the rumours reached the palace, rumours of a heretic appearing in the largest of the Ecclesiarchy cathedrals and causing a commotion. With a feeling of dread forming in my gut, I excused myself from whatever it was I had been doing up to that point (to this day, I cannot recall) and hurried there. As the cathedral loomed before me, I felt my uneasiness growing. A crowd had gathered around the entrance, but a quick flash of the rosette and a few choice words caused them to part without incident as I bulled my way through.
Once on the inside, I was met by Father Confessor Pelvale, who hurriedly escorted me towards the altar. As we quickly walked through the rows of pews, he assured me that although the danger seemed over, they had cleared out the cathedral to be on the safe side. I nodded and asked for a description of this renegade who had appeared in our midst. "Well," he said. "I can't rightly say. All I remember is a bright blue glow coming from his face."
The knot in my stomach twisted tighter, and I reached down to unstrap my boltgun.
The precaution proved to be unnecessary.
Zefram's body lay just before the cathedral altar in a pool of blood, bracketed by the bodies of several Ecclesiarches. He lay on his right side, curled into a fetal position. The blood came from two injuries, the larger in his stomach, the smaller from a ragged and gory tear were his right eye had once been. His remaining eye was closed. I stood over him and wondered, not altogether idly, if I had been the one to drive him to this. "What happened?" I asked the gathered priests and other holy men. They promptly replied with three or four different versions of the story, and it took several hours before I managed to create a clear picture.
The final version given to me was this.
Zefram had barged into the morning mass, gutshot by a bolter round. Delirious from the blood loss, he had staggered through the congregation, shoving those who didn't get out of his way fast enough, shouting something about needed to be cleansed.
Before the frightened eyes of the people, he had collapsed before the altar. As the Ecclesiarches surrounded him, Zefram had begged for their aid, rambling about how he had strayed from the Emperor and needed to become pure again. Compassionate men that they were, the priests began to minister to him. But he interrupted their liturgies by staggering to his feet and snarling that a simple confession would do nothing for him; he literally needed to cut away a piece of himself in order to be clean again.
What happened next was the stuff of nightmares and whispered tales. Zefram had torn the eyepatch from his face and allowed the blue light from his eye to shine forth. Four men had died in that terrible light, their minds burned away before they could avert their gazes. Then, before the eyes of the panicking congregation, Zefram had staggered to the altar, taken up a candlestick, and...
I didn't want to think about what he'd done next.
I stood silently over him, unable to tear my eyes away. I didn't understand. I had expected to feel...satisfied, that my choice had not come back to haunt me. Comforted, because a dangerous mutant had been removed. Pleased, because he had excised the heretical part of himself before dying.
I felt none of that.
Instead, what filled me was a sense of loss and shame. A man had died. A man had died when he had not needed to. And he had died because of my callousness.
A shimmer caught my eye, and I crouched beside Zefram's body. I realized that he held something in his left hand, something attached to a silver chain. I reached down and gently pried open his bloody fingers.
The double-headed eagle of the Imperium, the aquilae, looked up at me. Made of some type of steel and painted a vibrant green, Zefram had clutched the talisman so tightly that its sharp edges had sliced into his hand, leaving it bloody. I plucked the symbol of mankind from him and almost automatically wiped the blood from it. I looked at it for a moment, then, as if drawn by some outside force, I turned to look up at the massive portrait of the Emperor that was painted on the opposite wall of the cathedral.
They say the Emperor lies within the Golden Throne on Terra as he slowly withers away. But on that day on Beritan, He was there, watching me. When I looked up at His face, I could not tear my eyes away. As if directed by His will and not my own, my hands found the clasp to the silver chain and opened it. I slid the chain around my neck and closed the lock, leaving the noble aquilae hanging against my breastbone.
Finally, I looked back down and bent over Zefram. "You are pure," I whispered, my words so soft that only I could hear them. "I was wrong to call you tainted." With that, I gently kissed him on his temple and stood.
"Madam Inquisitor?" one of the men ventured. I barely heard him.
"Take him," I said softly. "Give him a proper burial."
"Madam?"
I turned. "He is cleansed. You have the Inquisition's word for that. Give him full rights."
"Full rights," the nearest man repeated, sounding like he was in a trance.
I turned at walked away, my footsteps echoing throughout the halls. I felt that I had changed somehow. I wondered whether it would be for the better or worse.
JADAFETWA
Awwwwwwwwwww! I liked Zephram!
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet
Poor Zef!*notes some emotional change though...or what feels like it* Very nice....sad...but nice.the longer i wait,the more i forget.the more i forget, the longer the list of desires grows. for that which is wanted is forbidden. and we all know that forbidden fruit is often the sweetest.Don'tcha wish your g/f was a witch like me?~*~AYVBABTU
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White Haven
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6360
- Joined: 2004-05-17 03:14pm
- Location: The North Remembers, When It Can Be Bothered
Watch the spelling, Tevar, he's not a drunk with a spanner and a desire to outrun light 
Out of Context Theatre, this week starring Darth Nostril.
-'If you really want to fuck with these idiots tell them that there is a vaccine for chemtrails.'
Fiction!: The Final War (Bolo/Lovecraft) (Ch 7 9/15/11), Living (D&D, Complete)
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White Haven
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6360
- Joined: 2004-05-17 03:14pm
- Location: The North Remembers, When It Can Be Bothered
...and now I'm trying to visualize how one gouges an eye out with a nice, blunt candlestick. Urgh....that's not a pleasant picture.
Out of Context Theatre, this week starring Darth Nostril.
-'If you really want to fuck with these idiots tell them that there is a vaccine for chemtrails.'
Fiction!: The Final War (Bolo/Lovecraft) (Ch 7 9/15/11), Living (D&D, Complete)
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White Haven
- Sith Acolyte
- Posts: 6360
- Joined: 2004-05-17 03:14pm
- Location: The North Remembers, When It Can Be Bothered
Aaaah, okay, that makes a lot more sense. Still an icky image, but not quite as bad as what I was envisioning
Out of Context Theatre, this week starring Darth Nostril.
-'If you really want to fuck with these idiots tell them that there is a vaccine for chemtrails.'
Fiction!: The Final War (Bolo/Lovecraft) (Ch 7 9/15/11), Living (D&D, Complete)
I did not become a radical overnight. The change happened slowly. For weeks after Zefram's death, I changed very little, perhaps not at all besides the fact that I became more withdrawn than I had before.
The ork invasion of Beritan was beaten back and defeated, though the hive world would suffer brief plagues of feral orks in the future. When my presence was no longer required, I bade farewell to Governor Galloway and chartered a new sprint trader, a ship named the Red Dancer. Its captain, a taciturn man by the name of Greis, accepted my presence with neither annoyance nor gratitude, but as if I was just another passenger, something that suited me just fine.
The change in my attitude first manifested itself three weeks later, on the frontier world of Eidar. There, the disgusting Tyrannid menace was attempting to create a beachhead. There, they were opposed by a few farmers wielding tools...and a pair of twin boys, not yet twenty years of age.
Talon and Tarin were, on the surface, perfectly normal boys born to a pair of perfectly normal parents. But when threatened by the menace of the ever-devouring Tyrannids, they showed their true nature. As twins, they had each been born with a natural ability to tap into the power of the warp. Before my eyes, I watched them slaughter the Tyrannids by the dozen using devastating psychic fire and lightning.
I was given pause. Some Inquisitors would have killed the boys outright due to the possible threat they presented. Some would have chosen to bind them to the Emperor, adding them to the choir of the Astronomican. I chose neither. I approached the two boys and brought them under my wing. As I am no psyker, I could teach them little about controlling their power, but I could teach them about the worlds outside their own and what was waiting for them if they abused their gifts.
Maybe I saw a bit of Zefram when I looked at them. Maybe it was that my conscience had decided to find a better path for me to take. But for whatever reason, when I left Eidar, Talon and Tarin came with me, and willingly. As time passed, I picked up the mutant Vodane with his four eyes and the guardswoman T'hanna, who had survived a Chaos incursion by becoming one with the daemon that had tried to possess her.
The accusations began to fly. Assertions that I was no longer safe. Rumours about me consorting with the Great Enemy to safeguard their blasphemous servants. I refused to bow to such rumours and challenged anyone who spoke them to find fault with the loyalty of my new associates. None rose to the challenge, for they knew that their accusations were ultimately groundless. Under the pragmatic eye of the Inquisition's masters, my retinue grew as I took in the shamed, the deformed, the ones nobody else would have.
My hair is raven black now. My false eyes burn a blood red. My augmentic right hand can crush a man's throat. I no longer wear my rosette openly, though I have kept the signet ring. There are still those who whisper behind my back that I am corrupted, and that I must be carefully watched. They willfully ignore the aquilae that still hangs from my neck in defiance of their claims. From time to time, I have touched that aquilae as though it were a good luck charm, or held it as I prayed as though in my hand I held not a mere piece of metal, but the hopes and dreams of all the Imperium.
I still dream of Zefram, though less often now that I once did. I have him to thank for opening my eyes to the truth, though it still saddens me that it took his life to do so. It helps me to think that with each life I touch, I am in some small way paying back the debt I owe him.
I am Inquisitor Kristania Veritas.
I am a radical.
And now you know why.
The ork invasion of Beritan was beaten back and defeated, though the hive world would suffer brief plagues of feral orks in the future. When my presence was no longer required, I bade farewell to Governor Galloway and chartered a new sprint trader, a ship named the Red Dancer. Its captain, a taciturn man by the name of Greis, accepted my presence with neither annoyance nor gratitude, but as if I was just another passenger, something that suited me just fine.
The change in my attitude first manifested itself three weeks later, on the frontier world of Eidar. There, the disgusting Tyrannid menace was attempting to create a beachhead. There, they were opposed by a few farmers wielding tools...and a pair of twin boys, not yet twenty years of age.
Talon and Tarin were, on the surface, perfectly normal boys born to a pair of perfectly normal parents. But when threatened by the menace of the ever-devouring Tyrannids, they showed their true nature. As twins, they had each been born with a natural ability to tap into the power of the warp. Before my eyes, I watched them slaughter the Tyrannids by the dozen using devastating psychic fire and lightning.
I was given pause. Some Inquisitors would have killed the boys outright due to the possible threat they presented. Some would have chosen to bind them to the Emperor, adding them to the choir of the Astronomican. I chose neither. I approached the two boys and brought them under my wing. As I am no psyker, I could teach them little about controlling their power, but I could teach them about the worlds outside their own and what was waiting for them if they abused their gifts.
Maybe I saw a bit of Zefram when I looked at them. Maybe it was that my conscience had decided to find a better path for me to take. But for whatever reason, when I left Eidar, Talon and Tarin came with me, and willingly. As time passed, I picked up the mutant Vodane with his four eyes and the guardswoman T'hanna, who had survived a Chaos incursion by becoming one with the daemon that had tried to possess her.
The accusations began to fly. Assertions that I was no longer safe. Rumours about me consorting with the Great Enemy to safeguard their blasphemous servants. I refused to bow to such rumours and challenged anyone who spoke them to find fault with the loyalty of my new associates. None rose to the challenge, for they knew that their accusations were ultimately groundless. Under the pragmatic eye of the Inquisition's masters, my retinue grew as I took in the shamed, the deformed, the ones nobody else would have.
My hair is raven black now. My false eyes burn a blood red. My augmentic right hand can crush a man's throat. I no longer wear my rosette openly, though I have kept the signet ring. There are still those who whisper behind my back that I am corrupted, and that I must be carefully watched. They willfully ignore the aquilae that still hangs from my neck in defiance of their claims. From time to time, I have touched that aquilae as though it were a good luck charm, or held it as I prayed as though in my hand I held not a mere piece of metal, but the hopes and dreams of all the Imperium.
I still dream of Zefram, though less often now that I once did. I have him to thank for opening my eyes to the truth, though it still saddens me that it took his life to do so. It helps me to think that with each life I touch, I am in some small way paying back the debt I owe him.
I am Inquisitor Kristania Veritas.
I am a radical.
And now you know why.
JADAFETWA
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2000AD
- Emperor's Hand
- Posts: 6666
- Joined: 2002-07-03 06:32pm
- Location: Leeds, wishing i was still in Newcastle
And another narrow minded puritan joins our ranks ....... eeeeeexcelent.
Ph34r teh eyebrow!!11!Writers Guild Sluggite Pawn of Chaos WYGIWYGAINGW so now i have to put ACPATHNTDWATGODW in my sig EBC-Honorary Geordie
Hammerman! Hammer!
Hammerman! Hammer!
*grins* nice. Clean, and crisp.
....*can't say what is thinking it's all in pictures bah*
....*can't say what is thinking it's all in pictures bah*
the longer i wait,the more i forget.the more i forget, the longer the list of desires grows. for that which is wanted is forbidden. and we all know that forbidden fruit is often the sweetest.Don'tcha wish your g/f was a witch like me?~*~AYVBABTU
Fantastic! Great job, Kuja!
Me: Nope, that's why I have you around to tell me.
Nitram: You -are- beautiful. Anyone tries to tell you otherwise kill them.
"A life is like a garden. Perfect moments can be had, but not preserved, except in memory. LLAP" -- Leonard Nimoy, last Tweet