In Memoria (40K)

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-07-20 04:12am

Dominus wrote:
Special Condition, hmm? An overture towards the recent Ravenor Returns, perhaps ...?

Its a really nice coincidence. I planned this section months ago, but only get around to writing it . . . . . a couple days after I picked up Ravenor Returned which includes all sorts of helpful terminology. Obviously, some part of the universe doesn't hate me.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-07-23 06:21pm

Gard carefully reached down and removed the life support mask from Jolan Gix's face. The inquisitor's eyes fluttered open. "We are safe inquisitor. A suitable space and equipment have been procured. Not a single element is connectable to who you really are."

"Good," croaked Jolan as he sat up on the bed. Cosmetic burn scars covered his face. Gard handed him a water bottle and Jolan greedily sucked in fluid through the straw. Gard had secured a vast room, now lined with vats and technoarcane medical equipment. "When will you be ready for surgery?"

"You won't be for another forty eight hours, as a precaution. The last of the drugs have to flushed from your system."

"Understood," said the inquisitor. "Where are Camron and Keys?"

"In an adjacent room. Waiting and standing guard."

"Good. Bring them in."

"Of course," Gard touched his vox and a moment latter a door opened. Jolan's retainers entered the room. The stopped at the foot of the bed.

Jolan didn't bother with a preamble. "We'll be going under deep cover," Jolan said. "For that, we all need new faces and I need full body work since I will be who they are looking for."

"That's why Heth is staying behind," said Mikal Camron. "Too big, been with you too long, and too recognizable."

"Yes," said Jolan. "I also need him for something else. They're going to help Melina to continue to build a clandestine network so when we find our target we will have something to hit it with."

"We will be doing infiltration work?" ask Danell.

"Yes."

"Emperor have mercy," said Camron. "You want us to pose as heretics."

"It won't work," said Keys. "There is no way that a-" then he stopped.

"Correct," said Jolan.

"What?" asked Camron.

"See if he figures it out himself," said Gix. "We'll be going to dark places for a long time. You left behind all items that could possibly identify you or link you back to the Inquisition?"

"Yes," said Keys. "I supervised. We're clean."

"Good," said Jolan. "If you could leave me with the good doctor now?" His retainers bowed slightly and departed. "Well doctor, lets get started with the planning phase of the operation."

"As you wish inquisitor." He pointed at one of the vats. "In there new skin and hair folicles are growing. After the surgical peel I'll put your own tissues in storage with a stasis field. Bone and tissue growth stimulators will slightly increase your height and weight and the ceramite struts I will add will increase your bulk further. The eyes are of a compatable tissue type. When we are done, you will look nothing like who you really are." Gard triggered a holo display and the finished results rotated slowly in front of Jolan.

"Good," said Gix. "Good."

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

The Gamesman looked up from one of his data panels as the PsyKing entered his lair. Four guards in gilded ceramite plate stood by the door, with chain glaives in their hands, ready to kill at his command. "So my son," said the Gamesman, "you have returned to me."

The PsyKing bowed. "I am yours to command."

"Indeed," said the Gamesman as he touched a control on the transparent crystalline board, sending events into motion in the machine mind that ran that particular game. "And how goes our campaign against Jolan Gix?"

"His ship has gone missing," said the PsyKing. "There is evidence of a space battle occuring at about the right time and place. He may be dead."

"So you think your assassination plan succeeded?" said the Gamesman mildly.

"Master-"

"Be very careful how you respond," said the Gamesman.

"I'm not sure," said the PsyKing. How had he known?

"It was foolish of you to try and kill Gix when I had plans for him," said the Gamesman. "Another inquisitor would have been useful. Very useful. And now if he's dead, we've lost him.

"But if he isn't dead, then he is falling even deeper into the darkness. But you will have revealed too much about how far our grasp reaches. So their remains the question of your punishment." The PsyKing was silent.

"I have a job for you. If you succeed, I will be very pleased. That is the easy part. Surviving it is another matter entirely."

Raj Ahten · Post by **Raj Ahten** » 2006-07-26 01:55pm

Interesting. I'll be waiting to see how well Gix's deep deep cover goes. Also, just how does he plan to destroy such a vast conspiracy?

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-07-26 09:34pm

Raj Ahten wrote: Also, just how does he plan to destroy such a vast conspiracy?

He doesn't. He intends to learn how to do so as part of his investigation.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-07-27 08:22pm

"Listen up," said Hethor D'eckor as he addressed what remained of Jolan's retinue. They were gathered in one of the conference rooms about the Eternal Will. Hethor was standing behind the empty chair at head of the table. "The boss hasn't forgotten us," he continued. "He's given us the easy job while he walks into hell."

All their attention was focused on him now. Good. "He's going to dig them up. He won't have weapons or backup or anything from the Inquisition, he'll be under too deep. We have to provide him with that. Melina is going to have to turn Gix's hidden assets into a secret empire and we have to train and equip that army. When the word comes we have to be all mighty hammer of the Emperor and be ready to stage a dozen campaigns at once. And we will have to do all of this from the shadows."

"And my role in this?" asked Selanon Kay. "I am contractred to fly the inquisitor's ship, not waste years of my life doing . . . whatever."

"You will be a free trader and shipmaster," said Hethor. "Melina will provide backing."

"This was not my agreement with Gix," glowered Kay.

"What is your agreement with the Emperor?" growled Hethor. "How will you account for your life when you stand before the Throne. Will you tell him you walked away from a chance to destroy an enemy that threatens sectors and the Inquisition itself? Or will you tell him you were afraid?"

"Call me a coward again," said Kay, his eyes glittering. One of his hands was on the table's edge, near his pistol. The other could rip off his bandana and unleash the lethal power of his warp eye. "Stand on the deck of a ship I have sheppard through battle and call me a coward."

"Talk is just talk," Hethor said. "Actions matter. You in?" He wouldn't leave the room alive if he wasn't.

"Yes," said Kay. "I'm in."

---------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

The flash dealer wimpered in the iron hard grip of Danell Keys. The assassin could twist and break bone, rupture organs, or cripple nerve clusters. He chose to hold. "Please," whined the dealer. "I-"

"Listen little man," said Keys's companion. They were in meat locker just off from the long cutting lines of the slaughter factory. Terex's World was classified as civilized in Imperial almanacs, but it was mostly an agricultural concern. In a dozen huge slaughter houses the livestock of the world were continiously killed, cut, and stripped. Men were involved every part of the process from the loading bays, to the conveyors, the packaging, the cutters, and the killing floor. The operation slowed only for routine maintenance and cleaning, one line going still in rotation while the others hacked away.

Men worked long, hard shifts here, but a little flash or lightning could make things go faster. They could also keep you alert when you were tired and that could keep you out of the cutting blades or the rendering vats, but it made you sloppier too. More than a few men supplied their fellow workers as a second job.

"No one is going to get through my friend at the door and no one is going to hear or care. I don't care whether you live or die. Do you believe me?"

The dealer staired at the ice eyed blonde. He was about average heigh and carried a lot of muscle. His face was craggy and his eyes were mercilous. Like everyone else, he was wearing a splattered worker's coverall. He didn't even need to carry an illicit weapon in this place. There were no shortages of blades and killing tools in a slaughter factory. "Y-yes," said the dealer, who wasn't a small man himself.

"Good," said the blonde. "I don't want you or your business. I want your supplier."

"He won't talk to you," said the dealer. "You aren't known."

"That's my problem, isn't it?" said the blonde. "Name and location?"

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To move secretly from world to world in the Imperium is not an art, it is a craft. Between them Danell Keys and Gard Vikal had considerable experitise in this craft and Gard had a whole array of contacts and long history of practical experience. Booking passage for their cover identities had been easy, although mostly because they had yet to do anything to cause them to be hunted by the Imperium.

There had been a delay, of course. One does not book secret passage overnight, but they had used that time. Jolan needed time to recover from the surgery and Gard had to arrange for the safe and secret storage of Jolan's stasis preserved tissues. Keys had glided through the Helopolis underworld, acquiring weapons and gear to replace some of what they had left behind on the Eternal Will.

Eventually they had found passage on a fat and slow bulk cargo and passenger ship Lady Joy. It had meandered through the warp lanes carrying the Throne agents in almost bare cabins as the Lady Joy was no luxury liner. It had sufficed.

Now they prowled the shanty towns that had acrewed around the slaughter factories. Originally they had been prefab shacks and hastily constructed houses, but over the years decay had outpaced renovations. The streets were unpaved, there was filth and garbabe everywhere, and vermin, both human and animal, were everywhere.

A rectangular house was in better shape than most and lacked the ever present garbage. A huge man with dark brown skin stood guard by the door. His face was marked with hashmark scars and he wore a long leather coat with revealing bulges underneath. Jolan stopped about three meters from the guard, his retainers hanging back. "I'm here to see the Vice."

"Why should the Vice see you?" the guard replied.

"It's worth a lot of money."

"You have any references?"

The blonde crossed the distance between them almost instantly, a thin bladed knife in his hand. He slammed the guard against the wall and pressed the point to his throat. "I'm an off worlder who isn't interested in getting the run around. Care to confirm that?"

"Easy blade. Easy."

"Camron," said the blonde. The guard lieutenant had a large bore slug thrower drawn and the guard covered. Keys stepped into the house. There was the sound of several meaty smacks and then a voice rang out.

"Clear," said Keys. They entered and stepped over the body of another guard, Camron still covering the other guard.

A man sat at a table, sipping from a large mug. The wore a multicoloured shirt of checks of alternating colours. His head was shaved bald. "Get it done," he said.

"I'm not here to hurt you," said the blonde. "I'm here for business."

"You have a funny way of showing it."

"I'm off world and I'm not interested in fucking around."

"Who are you?"

"You can call me Sevren Dask," said Jolan Gix. "I'm either going to make you very rich or very dead."

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-07-30 06:58pm

Near the slaughter factories lie row upon row of sheet metal walled storage buildings. A few guards patrol this area of the fields, insuring the security of the combine's property. One of the buildings is not like the others.

A burly guard in combine security uniform waits at the door. Men and women in shining silks and glossy leathers pass by him and go inside. A few are refused admittance. Several of these argue and some of those are let in. The rest give up and leave.

Not all of those who enter wear the glitzy clothes of bored young aristocrats or the bombastic and aggressive clothing of the crime lords and their retainers. Some wear the more subdued style of professional retainers, shepparding their charges through the underworld or flamboyant styles of concubines. The last group of exceptions are heavily covered and shrouded. They are the reason that places like this exist.

The Vice leads Gix's party in. Jolan and his retainers wear long leather coasts fashionable among minor crimminals with delusions of toughness but disdained as summer wear by the truely deadly men they wish to emulate as drawing too much attention and being too damn hot in the summer. The Vice is known, he and his men are let in without question.

The inside is noisy and brightly lit. Lights hang from the ceiling and men and women were argueing and laughing. A dirt ring was in the center of the floor surrounded by tables and standing space. Several rising rows of collapsable benches allowed even more customers to be packed in. Stands at the side take a continious stream of bettors. Blood sports aren't illegal on Terex's World, but are strickly the domain the Princes of Blood who frown on extra legal competition. The Princes are conservative in the extreme when it comes to forms of combat allowed and there are many who hunger for novelty. Thus places like this exist.

Aping the behavior of their social betters, the crime lords and gang chieftains often settle their disputes through the performance of champions in the ring. Such settlements do not always hold, but to go against it costs face and so is not lightly done. The Vice leads Jolan, Mikal, and Danell to a table near ringside. In this place, it is the crime lords who are the priviledged elite, not the blood hungry scions of noble blood. The taboo nature of the inversion is another reason to come. Hear and their a haughty aristo girl flirts with a gang leader, an unthinkable activity in other places. Such liasons never last, but are a staple of this place.

"I upheld my part," said the Vice. He wanted to be paid and leave. These off worlders were trouble, he could smell it. He just wanted their money and their departure from his life.

"Not yet," said the man who called himself Sevren Dask. "After the introductions." The Vice might turn on them then, but the Mikal Camron had proven himself to be a capable fighter and Keys was always utterly lethal. A violent demonstration would help, not hurt, him in establishing a favorable relationship with those he wished to meet.

A bell was rung. The lights dimmed, all except one focused on the senter of the ring. A slim man with speaker box in hand stepped into the spotlight. He wore tight fitting pants and a gold emroidered tunic of red silk. "Greetings honoured. Our first fight is a status bout, between Bedevore Smesh and a new commer, Truden Vor. No weapons, to surrender, unconciousness, or exiting the ring." The last rarely happened unless the loser was literally hurled or kicked over the dirt line.

The first fighter was a scarred brute, naked to the waist, with hands wrapped in leather strips. The second was shorter, but broader, with a often broken nose and a look of fierce desperation on his face. He too was stripped to the waist and wore leather strips on his hands. Both of them had the olive skin that was the most common shade on Terex's world.

The fight was over quicky. The shorter man was strong, but had little skill at defending himself. The taller rained blows upon his chest and abdomen. The shorter man blocked many of the strikes, but not all of them. The outcome of the fight was rapidly becoming clear. Jolan wasn't paying any attention to the fight.

"There," he said. He pointed. "Who's that?" he asked the Vice.

The Vice squinted at the direction Jolan was pointing. A lean, dark man was being attended to by two girls, one dark skinned, the other shockingly pale. Two big leather clad guards insured that their employers personal space was undisturbed. "Kajan. He's involved. Lots of middle man stuff."

And what better way to meet influential people and acquire all sorts of items with no questions asked than as an underworld middle man and vice peddler? "How well do you know him?" Jolan asked. His gaze was focused on the white skinned girl. She was blue eyed and black haired and rather pretty if one prefered petite women. Jolan was much more interested in the haze of psyker static coming from her. Her control wasn't as good as his, but it was better than most.

"We don't operate in the same circles. His . . . . . . clientel is more important."

Jolan nodded. "Then you are just about done." The inquisitor got up and walked around the ring as the taller fighter continued to beat the shorter to a pulp. Moving through the crowd wasn't easy, but he managed to force his way through. One of the guard's glared at him as he closed in. The witch tapped Kajan's arm. The crime lord was wearing a long, deliberately ripped jacket of sky blue silk over a half open shirt of white silk with billowing sleeve. Three bejewelled rings glinted on his hands, which by crime lords standards was tasteful restraint. His dark eyes met Jolan's sky blue ones. He motioned for his guard to let Jolan approach.

"Who are you?" the crime lord asked.

"I've come a long way. I'm looking to for like minded men."

"What kind of men?"

"Those who understand that there true interests don't lie with orthodoxy."

"And why would you think I am such a man?"

"The unregistered psyker sitting next to you," replied Jolan. "That's enough for you to burn."

"And how would you know that?"

"She's not the only psyker witch in the room," said Jolan with a smile. "I could be very useful to you . . . . brother."

"Maybe we should talk."

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-08-02 06:09am

Jolan traced the eight pointed star of chaos on the table with his right index finger.

Kajan's eyes followed Jolan's motions. "Interesting. How do I know you're not a Throne agent?"

"Because I wouldn't be here if I was. A platoon of Arbites would be. Suspicion is more than enough."

"True," said Kajan. "That doesn't mean I should trust you."

"I'm not asking for that," said Jolan. "I'm merely suggesting we could help each other."

"I'm listening."

"I'm new on world. Only have a few faithful followers, but we know our business. We could be very useful."

Kajan studied Jolan. "Perhaps you could. Your name?"

"Sevren Dask."

"Sevren Dask. I'll be in touch."

---------------------------------------------------------------------

Jolan, Mikal, and Danell walked through the darkened maze of corrugated metal sheds and equipment huts. It was a fair distance to their apartments and not a safe trip either. The combine enforcers often engaged in extortion as a way of enhancing their pay packets, criminal gangs and opportunists often lurked in the shadows, and the danger of over dose triggered psychotic rampage were ever present risks.

"Is it really that easy?" said Mikal. "I thought it would be harder."

"We aren't in yet," Jolan replied. "And yes, there are so many cults everywhere that they can't possibly know each other. That and the fact that the Imperium doesn't try to infiltrate them. We just exterminate them where we find them."

"And this world is worse than most," said Keys. "Lots of interstellar commerce, lots of tolerated illegal vices, the ranks of the enforcers riddled with corruption and laxity. That's why this world was chosen."

"Everyone needs to start somewhere," said Jolan. Something skittered across the edge of his psychic awareness. "Trouble," he hissed. Camron dashed and took cover to the right, Keys to the left. Jolan followed the no longer quite so young lieutenant.

"What is it?" whispered Mikal. In other circumstances an auxpex would answer that question but their archeotech gear had been left behind on the Eternal Will.

"There," Jolan hissed. Men darted through the shadows.

"I don't think they're friendly," Mikal hissed back.

Shots from Keys's gun shattered the darkness. The assassin was using a long barrelled Hevucar 10-X, a gun with a big bore, and in this case, tungsten carbide tipped fragmenting rounds which will penetrate flak armour and mangle flesh. One of the shadows fell. The others opened fire.

A stream of bullets and a volley of lasfire converged on where Keys had fired from, but the assassin was already gone. Brilliant ruby beams and invisible bullets tore through sheet metal and riddled that side of the shack. The tracer effects of the lasers helped Jolan find the shooter.

His growing skill with biomancy could be combined with his well honed mastery of pyromancy for deadly effect. The shooter twitched, screamed and collapsed, steam rising from every orifice, as Jolan boiled his blood. The inquisitor stepped away, around the other side of the shed as he wrapped himself in a telekinetic shield.

Keys was advancing with his dark glasses on. They were engaged in light amplification and flash suppression mode, an expensive and exotic piece of kit but not one beyond the means to acquire in Helopolis. To him, night was almost as good as day. He raised his gun again. Target was thirty meters away. He fired three times in rapid succession. Target slumped. He was evading.

Camron didn't have the benefit of night vision nor Jolan Gix's psychic powers, but he was far from easy meat. He reached into his long leather coat and drew a cut down riot shotgun. He flipped out the folding stock, shouldered the weapon and put ten sprays of pellets in the direction of one of their attackers in four seconds. He then dived away, rolled, and disposed of the magazine as return fire ripped through the shed.

The souls of his attackers blazed clearly through the warp in Jolan's witch sight. He inhaled deeply and then performed blasphemy, unleashing a psychic attack which drew upon the energies associated with the Ruinous Powers. His eyes glowed gold and his attackers screamed and writhed, struck down by the power of the Withering Gaze. The fell to the dirt, their hands curled into claws and clutching at their own flesh as the awful power of Tzeentch overwhelmed their minds and crippled their bodies.

Jolan walked among them, a Hevucar 10-X in his hands. He briefly stopped at each body and two shots rang out as he put a double tapped each one in the head. He stopped at the last one, a burly man who had half recovered from Jolan's sorcerous attack. He looked up to see Jolan standing over him.

"Magus, please, mercy."

"Why?" said Jolan as he prepaired more terrible sorcery.

"Magus, I can serve you. Serve you well. I can aid you against your enemy."

"Name him," said Jolan

"Vancour. His man saw you speaking with Kajan. He and Kajan are rivals. He wanted-"

"Yes, I get the picture," said Gix. "Thank you." He shot the heretic twice in the face. Jolan turned back to his retainers. "Lets get out of here before we have to bribe our way through an army of enforcers."

Feil · Post by **Feil** » 2006-08-02 11:25am

Reading of blasphemous texts, creation of daemonhosts, performmance of Tzeentch-sorcery, drawing of the marks of Chaos... it's a wonder the Gamesman needs to even try to turn the emperor-damned radical.

Very nice writing. Keep it up. I'd like to see some consequences of Jolan's dabbling with the warp, though; some narration about the dark alure of the heretical. One doesn't just go around drawing the 8-pointed star and performing chaos sorcery without feeling anything.

"tungsten carbine" should be "tungsten carbide".

Favorite bit in a while:

"Name him," said Jolan

"Vancour. His man saw you speaking with Kajan. He and Kajan are rivals. He wanted-"

"Yes, I get the picture," said Gix. "Thank you." He shot the heretic twice in the face.

Very much Inquisitor.

Comosicus · Post by **Comosicus** » 2006-08-02 11:45am

Jolan Gix is toying with the "Dark Side". The Gamesman will be please to hear that

I wonder if Gix is trying to go the same way Luke Skywalker did with the Ressurected Emperor: pretend to go on the side of the enemy, while struggling inside to keep himself from falling.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-08-03 06:31am

The club wasn't exactly private, but it was mostly filled with a certain kind of clientel. Drug dealers, fences, thieves, thugs, and underworld soldier or hammer men in the local cant. Jolan had taken enough time to learn that. Two of them bore mild marks of mutation, one a huge mountain of blubber and muscle with patches of scales on his skin and the other a man with fused fingers on his left hand. He controlled his instinct to recoil. A worshipper of chaos would be neither shocked nor disgusted to see them so he must appear to be unmoved.

Keys took a seat at the bar, away from the stage where a red head with a bad breast augmentation and no clothes writhed unconvincingly in a success full quest to liberate hard currency from criminal scum. Jolan proceeded further into the club without him. One of Kajan's enforcers, no hammer men, directed him toward the back booth.

The witch was still there, stairing through him with her sky-blue eyes. She wore a spiked leather collar and a gauzy black dress over black underclothes. Another hammer man was by the side of the booth. "Sevren," said Kajan.

Jolan nodded in acknowledgement, resisting the idea to unleash Keys on the club and drag the heretic to the darkest cell he could find and begin a thourough and brutal interrogation. For Jolan's plan to work this heretic must not only survive, but prosper. In the short term.

"Kajan," said Sevren. "Thanks for agreeing to the meeting so quickly."

"Sit down. What do you wish to discuss?" The heretic took a sip of an amber coloured liquid that was undoubtedly grain alcohol of dubious quality.

"I was attack the night of our meeting," said Jolan as he slid into the booth.

"Oh?"

"By men working for Vancour. A rival of yours, I take it?"

"Yes. Serellia here is my good luck charm against assassinations." I'll bet, thought Jolan who merely nodded. "A spy of his in the crowd must have seen you and tipped off a team of hammers who were looking for an opportunity."

"Convienent."

"An advantage of having our particular patron." He traced the squiggle rune of Tzeentch on the table. "My advantage since his men proved to be unable to do the job. I take it you are here about formalizing an alliance."

"Not exactly," said Gix.

"Then what?"

"What is it worth to you for Vancour to disappear forever?"

Kajan laughed. "You've got a big sack, I like that in a man, but you won't be able to touch him." The witch Serellia just gazed at him with her big blue eyes.

"You may think that, he may think that, but I can assure you that's not the case."

"You're one crazy son of a grox, but you may be crazy enough to pull this off." He witch still hadn't blinked yet.

"You won't be paying me until after, so what do you have to lose?" Jolan said.

Kajan's smile faded. "What is it you really want?"

Jolan hesitated and then spoke softly. "Power. Knowledge. Allies. All those things that are necessary for victory. Spectacular victory. I want what every man secretly dreams of. The Eye of God."

The witch continued staring. "You really think that will come to you?" said Kajan.

"I will make it come to me."

Kajan smiled. He gestured for the bartender to bring another glass. He refilled his own and then filled the other pushing it towards Jolan. "The Eye," said Kajan and downed his glass.

"The Eye," said Jolan and then downed the firey liquid in one gulp. "About Vancour . . ." he said as he put the glass back on the table.

-----------------------------------------------------------------------

Gard's apparatus hummed as the savant finished his sweep. "Clear," he said.

"Good," said Jolan. They were holed up in dingy apartments typically occupied by bottom lower management or foremen in the factory complexes. "Situation?"

"Medical tests continue to be green zone," said Gard. "No sign of delayed complications. I am still in the process of renewing my smuggler and underworld contacts."

"Minkal?"

"A lot of sitting around and waiting Inqu-" Mikal Camron began and then stopped at Jolan's glare. "Sorry."

"Not as much as we'll be if you slip up again in public. The work I'm going to ask of you will be damned hard. This is the easy part."

"Drav?"

Danell Keys was serene. "Yes?"

Jolan handed Keys a slip of paper. "This is where Vancour's holed up. Some kind of virtual fortress. We're going to take him out for a substantial paycut, and more importantly, a reputation boost with the local cultists. Recon."

The assassin nodded. "Opportunity?"

"Take it," said Gix. "Vancour is one heretic we don't have to keep around."

Keys gave no indication he heard but opened the door and walked out.

"Sevren, this is wrong," said Camron. "I understand why, but this is going-"

"As far as we have to. We risk much, even our immortal souls. This enemy assists in the damnation of billions. It is worth the risk. Remember, it can only damn you if you give in to it. If you submit."

"To assist them, even temp-"

"If a heretic participates in a mass, he is still a heretic. Such is his nature. The Emperor is greater than these mad chaos gods, who fear to challenge him unless they are united and shielded by proxies. Faith in Him, in His mission, is our shield. What is forbidden to others because they are weak is demanded of us because we are strong. We must hide ourselves among the enemy so we can find his lair and burn him out. We embrace risk to do so, but the burden of knowledge has always been carried by the Inquisition. With knowledge comes the possibility of error, of misjudgment, of choosing poorly. As always, we keep our faith and shoulder the burdens that we alone can bear."

"As you say," said Camron, not entirely convinced.

Dominus · Post by **Dominus** » 2006-08-03 05:14pm

Comosicus wrote:I wonder if Gix is trying to go the same way Luke Skywalker did with the Ressurected Emperor: pretend to go on the side of the enemy, while struggling inside to keep himself from falling.

That's what I was thinking as well. This interesting little turn in Memoria has Dark Empire written all over it. Which is far from a bad thing, as far as I'm concerned.

Keep up the excellent writing, IO. Radical inquisitors do so delight and amuse me.

Prozac the Robert · Post by **Prozac the Robert** » 2006-08-03 06:38pm

This continues to be good.

I have a question about this though:

The souls of his attackers blazed clearly through the warp in Jolan's witch sight. He inhaled deeply and then performed blasphemy, unleashing a psychic attack which drew upon the energies associated with the Ruinous Powers. His eyes glowed gold and his attackers screamed and writhed, struck down by the power of the Withering Gaze. The fell to the dirt, their hands curled into claws and clutching at their own flesh as the awful power of Tzeentch overwhelmed their minds and crippled their bodies.

Isn't that a bit too simple for such a thing? I'd have thought it would require more than just being a psycher to call upon the power of Tzeentch. Shouldn't there be some sort of cost?

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-08-03 06:53pm

Prozac the Robert wrote:
Isn't that a bit too simple for such a thing? I'd have thought it would require more than just being a psycher to call upon the power of Tzeentch. Shouldn't there be some sort of cost?

Its not a simple thing, but a powerful working of chaos sorcery that draws upon the energies associated with Tzeentch. Chaos sorcery has been part of Jolan's arsenal ever since he captured and transcribed those grimoires (just as Vortex of Chaos was added to Eisenhorn's capabilities). His more conventional abilities were enhanced by his studies as well, and for obvious reasons Jolan avoids using his more corrupt abilities (except when impersonating Chaos Sorcerers).

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-08-06 03:08am

Jolan approached Kajan's booth. His hammer men let him pass. The heretic was wearing a guady suit of white and lemon yellow silk that was, in Jolan's opinion, in terrible taste. The witch was with him, as always, and wore a broad brimmed black hat and veil over a filmy black dress. "Sevren," Kajan said with a smile.

Jolan smiled back. The heretic would stab him in the back in an instant, of course. "I bring good news," the inquisitor said with a smile.

Kajan nodded. "I heard. Vancour recently suffered a fatal bout of bullet to the head disease. You get things done fast."

Jolan shrugged. "When I see opportunities, I take them." In truth, he hadn't. The local thugs may have been impressed by Vancour's defences, but Keys hadn't been. He had surveyed the area for several hours and then made the kill. It had not been, in Keys's opinion, a notable accomplishment.

Kajan smiled and nodded at Jolan's remark. "I'll cover my end, don't worry about that. What are you up to next?" He gestured for Jolan to sit and the inquisitor did so. The witch poured him a glass of the local whiskey, which was vile to be polite about it.

"Maybe do another job or two, collect so more money, maybe learn something, see if I can find a likely looking lad or two, and then back to the stars."

"Leaving eh?"

"I have ambitions," said Jolan with a shrug. "I have to take them a step at a time, but I intend to take those steps. If Fate or some Divine Architect were to grease my way, I would have no objections, of course."

"Of course. There is going to be a . . . . . private gathering soon. A few select members. I would like for you to participate. You might be able to make some new connections or find some work there. You know, grease the way."

Kajan raised his glass and Jolan raised his in solute. The two were smiling like maniacs and then downed the liquor. Smile, thought Jolan, smile while you still can. Your path ends in an Inquisition cell with every strand of information being torn out of you and your entire heretic cult being purged.

-------------------------------------------------------------

The night black aircar came for Jolan alone. Inside was Kajan, his form hidden inside a black robe and his face covered by a golden mask that depicted a sinister, laughing fat man. His witch and one of his thugs was also present, the girl wearing a domino mask over form fitting black leather. The car rose and flew out of the city, over the vast herds being driven to slaughter, and into the endless expanse of pasture land that was now somewhat vacant.

The car descended, landing next to five other similar ones. Three men shrouded in long coats stood guard. Their faces were covered by targeting unit that allowed them to pierce the darkness and use their weapons with absolute precision. Two of them carried long lases, the third carried light weight missle launcher of greater sophistication than that used by most Guard units.

Kajan took him past these sentinels and towards the two rings of chaos worshippers. The outer ring was made up of guards and retainers. Their faces were obscured and some of them openly carried weapons. The witch and the muscle stayed at the outer ring. Jolan followed Kajan up the hill toward the inner ring.

It wasn't much of a hill and its only notable feature was the dead tree atop it. A meter and a half long slab of bloodstone hovered half a meter off the ground, courtesy of suspensor units on its underside. There were five other members of the inner circle, each one wearing black robes and a golden mask depicting a sinister caricature.

"This is Sevren Dask," said Kajan. "He is brother from off world and has been of some use to me, and by extension, to our order. I believe he and his followers are capable of assisting us with several of our long standing problems."

One of them spoke, a woman with a smiling crone mask. "He is an outsider. He should not have been brought without approval."

Kajan replied. "He knows only me here. He cannot betray anyone else. He can, however, help us."

A man with the mask of a chubby child spoke. "You seem sure of that."

"I sense the Architect's hand in his coming. And again, he cannot betray you."

"Very well," said the crone. "Let us commence. Our guest will do the honours." The others nodded. Two thugs emerged from the air car carrying a large travel bag. They grunted as they hauled it up the hill to the altar and then dropped it on the ground. They stood panting for a moment and then opened it.

Jolan was not surprised to see an adolescent boy inside. His face and limbs were marked with red pustules, probably the result of some kind of local pox outbreak. His symbolic signifigance as a sacrifice was obvious. He boy was securely bond with plastic ties and gagged.

The thugs placed him on the altar stone and then struck him with a shock wand. The boy gasped and convulsed and while he did so the thugs slit his bonds, drawing blood as they did so and then resecured his limbs around the altar block. They did so with the ease and routine of long practice.

The chubby child turned to him. "Brother, will you do the honours?"

Jolan reached into his jacked and pulled out a wavy bladed dagger with a golden hilt. "Your knife or mine?" he asked mildly.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-08-09 06:15pm

Jolan brushed the sink taps with his telekinesis, turning them on. The inquisitor grabbed a small scrub brush and stuck his hands under the flow, scrubbing away at the caked on blood. He began to scrub rapidly.

He had known that he would have to do this, sooner or latter, but that knowledge had been no comfort. He had not merely been a participant in a sacrifice to one of the Ruinous Powers, but had wielded the knife. He had cut the flesh, spilled the blood, taken the organs, and ended a life and done it not in the Emperor's service, as he had done so many times, but in the service of Chaos.

That his devotion was a lie, the victim doomed anyway, and that his presence was a future death sentence for every cultist there was not much of a comfort. He srubbed harder. More flakes of dried blood came off and circled the drain.

It, and Keys's assassination, had cemented his status among the heretics. They had talked favors, plans, and payments and Jolan had gained a very good understanding of how far their network extended and what resources they commanded. He had also agreed to one more task for them.

"Sevren?" a voice asked from the bathroom doorway.

Jolan stopped in mid scrub and turned. "Yes Gard?" Unlike the rest of them, Gard Vikal didn't require a new identity. Decades spent as a underground technologicist made that unnecessary.

"Are you alright?"

"No," replied Jolan, "I'm not."

"Can I help?"

"No, its just something I have to work through." He scrubbed harder. This was a necessary step, he told himself. He had killed hundreds when necessary. He had sentenced thousands of acroflagellation. He had even ordered Exterminatus when required. One death, in the Emperor's service even if dressed in a lie, was nothing. But it wasn't.

It was the first of many deaths that would be committed in the name of the Great Enemy and would aid him in the short term. It was treason and murder by almost any reckoning. Only one thing could justify them and that one thing was success. A crushing, long term victory over a vast heretic conspiracy.

"Then I had better win," Jolan said softly. "Gard," he said louder. "Get everyone together. We have one more thing to do before we leave this dirt ball."

"As you wish," said Gard. Jolan looked down at his fingers. They were red and raw. He flexed his fingers and curled them into fists. Images of Maladar gutting the gold masked cultists with his lightning claws as they feebly tried to flee or fight back danced in his head. That would have to be enough, for now.

He turned off the taps, put the brush back on the counter, and dried his hands. Duty called. Just one more atrocity to commit and then he would be finished here. Better sooner than latter. The impulse to burn them all was strong and giving into would waste all his work here.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-08-17 05:51am

Jolan Gix did not linger long on Terex's World. The cultists had one more task they wished for him, a murder of a high official. They unknowingly gave themselves to him with that request for it was not hard then to find out what interests would benefit from that official's death. They had their own murderers, some of whom might have been able to execute the job cleanly, but they wanted surety of the trail not leading back to them.

So Jolan gave the order to Danell and the official died in what appeared to be random street violence. The identity of those who had ordered the murder was carefuly remembered, to be forwarded to those few who knew Jolan Gix still lived. For a time they were be permitted to live, to grow and spread the word that Sevren Dask could be relied upon to get things done.

So it was they left, along with certain valuables, aboard the trader Silver Heart and traversed the warp until they reached the world of Veridius. There, surprisingly, Mikal Camron made contact with a chaos blood cult. The young lieutenant was not quite as young as he once was and was able to find them by tracking the patterns of murders and suspicious accidents.

They were wary at first, but awed by Jolan's power and the brutal deaths executed upon their membership when they sought his life. Jolan instructed them in new arts and pushed them into a more ambitious, and reckless, path. Soon enough the cult would come to the attention of the Arbites and the Inquisition and be inevitably destroyed, but for now they provided a new cult tattoo and further proof of Sevren Dask's skill and devotion.

On Tamil IV he met with the decadent sons of prosperous shippers and minor aristocrats. Gard Vikal provided entry into their ranks with knowledge on how to produce pleasurable new drugs for them. Supplied with counter agents by Gard and protected by his own growing skill at biomancy Jolan imbined potent liquor and narcotics at parties. His list of names to be forwarded grew and he acquired a new cult mark just above the elbow on his left arm.

He joined an expedition with one of the prosperous merchants sons he met on Tamil IV. They embarked upon a world not marked on any Imperial chart and descended to its surface. They fought their way through a horde of savage, red skinned humanoid xenos, matching slugger and lasgun against bow and spear. After a titanic slaughter they breached the xenos grand temple and took from them great riches, including psychoactive crystals.

The crystals were far to dangerous to leave in the hands of cultists, but Jolan could not act against them. Instead he arranged for his rivals in the cult to hear about the discovery of the crystals in time to disrupt he grand working. Blood flowed in the streets in sufficient quantity that the Arbites could not help but notice and then the Inquisition came. The surviving cultists scattered like bugs, some to other stars. Most of them carried the name of Sevren Dask with them.

They were not the only ones. Those who screamed their last in black Inquisition cells named names. One of those names was Sevren Dask. And so it was, a little more than two years after Jolan Gix's presumed death, the name of the dangerous heretic and agent of chaos Sevren Dask was entered in the Inquisition's record.

Chris OFarrell · Post by **Chris OFarrell** » 2006-08-17 05:55am

Heh. I KNEW that was going to happen eventualy.

"So Maladar....I know how this looks but seriously, I can explain it..."

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-08-17 06:08am

Chris OFarrell wrote:Heh. I KNEW that was going to happen eventualy.

"So Maladar....I know how this looks but seriously, I can explain it..."

No better proof of heresy than being on the Inquisition's purge list.

Comosicus · Post by **Comosicus** » 2006-08-18 03:37am

Imperial Overlord wrote:
Chris OFarrell wrote:Heh. I KNEW that was going to happen eventualy.

"So Maladar....I know how this looks but seriously, I can explain it..."
No better proof of heresy than being on the Inquisition's purge list.

Jolan Gix has nothing to worry about ... Maladar is stranded on a more primitive planet, playing "knight of the Round Table"

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-08-22 04:55am

Melina bent over the table, pointing to line on the contract. She smiled and made eye contact with the middle aged man across the table from her. "If you would just sign here honoured," she shifted her finger over, "and place you seal here."

In his younger days Rojon Hersk might have been called heavy set but now could only truthfully fat. The layers of brocade velvets, heavy with threads of precious metals, could only disguise the extent of his bulk, not hide it. He picked up the stylus, smiled back at the most attractive woman he had ever met, and signed. He touched an inset on his signet ring, activating the heating elements and plunging it into the the piece of wax on the contract.

He slid it across the jet black Vitrian glass table. She smiled. The pale woman behind her chair did not, but then again she never did. "It is done," he said. "We are in business honoured. May both our houses prosper from it."

Melina raised her hand and made gesture. A demur young woman brought a tray with amnesic and glasses. The girl filled the glasses and put one before Melina and three in front of the head of the Hersk Consortium, his most favored son, and his right hand man. Melina raised her glass in salute. "To the prosperity of both our houses." Lightning flashed in the window behind her. "It appears the storm is worsening honoured. May I offer the suggestion that you depart swiftly before it gets even worse or abandon travel all together and take advantage of my hospitality."

"Your words are courteous as always," replied Rojon and he rose from the couch, "but I have appointments latter in the city."

Melina rose and embraced Rojon, kissing him lightly on the trip. "Then be swift and be safe." He blushed slightly and bowed, before retreating from the room.

Shala waited until he was gone. "That was cruel."

"It was effective," said Melina, cold as ice. "He'll rut with a half dozen whores who look like me and we have our gold plated contract. You're in a bad mood. Is it playing bodyguard that doesn't agree with you or being cooped up when the weather like this. Or something else?"

The commissar shrugged and turned toward the full length windows. Melina signaled the assassin playing servant girl to leave them. The killer bowed and retreated from the room. Melina put her fingers on the commissar's shoulder. Nofield almost jumped.

"Its me, isn't it?" Nofield pulled away. "Is it the role we must play or something else?"

Shala opened her mouth to say something and then the door slid open, spoiling the moment. Hethor D'eckor walked in. Melina recovered quickly. "I thought you would be busy training the men."

"I am," said the Guard veteran. "Sort of. Decided to check on you."

"Help yourself the amnesic," Melina said as Nofield took the opportunity to drift away.

"I will," he said. He walked into an adjoining room and returned with a glass mug, filling it full of amnesic. He sat down on the couch with a grunt and then sipped. "Nice."

"It should be," Melina replied.

"Don't worry, its not goin' to waste," said Hethor as he took another drink. "How'd it go?"

"They signed. On my terms. They'll still make money."

"Just not as much as we will," Hethor finished. "Doin' your job well."

"And what about yours?"

"Testin'."

"Testing?"

"Seeing what my under officers will do with me gone and without a schedule but having been told earlier my general expectations."

"You're monitoring them?"

"And have a few spies."

"Clever. And here I thought you were just a dumb brute," Melina said with a smile.

"Yeah, full of surprises, that's me. You should have a drink commissar."

"No thank you," said Nofield. "If I'm not needed?"

Melina inclined her head. Shala strode across the room and out the door.

Hethor let out a long whistle. "She's in a mood. She needs to get laid bad. Hell, I need to get laid bad and I ain't even close to that." He took another drink. "You?"

"Me?"

"Yeah, you. Need to get laid?"

"That a proposition?" she asked raising an eyebrow.

"If you want it to be one," he said.

She laughed. "I'll consider it. Do you really think that's her problem?"

He shrugged. "Could be. That or doin' all the things that a commissar isn't suppossed to be. Or both. Or maybe somethin' else." He shrugged. "So the cash will really start flowin'?"

"Yes," she said with a smile. "Inside of a year we'll be big players, locally."

"Then we should celebrate," he said, laying his mug down and standing up. He grabbed her and pulled her to her with the deceptive speed he had employed to kill countless men. He kissed her firmly on the lips as she squirmed in his arms and then returned it. He broke the embrace. "Now did you like that or should I be goin' somewhere else to celebrate?"

"Somewhere else," she said frostily and then smiled. "My bedroom is just over there." She took his hand and led the way.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-08-27 06:08am

The two Arbites stood by the door of the luxury suite in the upper tiers of Hive Aronax. The black armoured enforcers held suppression shields and shock mauls in hand. Behind them was another pair, with suppression shields a autopistols sporting long magazines. Sindar Extos raised her fist to signal readiness. The vox was pulsed twice.

The shock mauls swung, smashing the hardened plas door to scrap. The enforcers entered, followed by the pair with autopistols. Bullets were flying in both direction. The giant Kauth and Sindar went through next. Both of the Aribiters were armed with combat shotguns. Sindar's alternated heat seeking executioner rounds with anti-personnel shot. Every member of the raiding team was equipped with a techward on their fighting harness that would command the executioner rounds not to target them, making heat seekers much safer to use in a close quarter brawl.

Three dead men were sprawled in the antechamber of the apartments. They were dressed in the synth leather coat over synth silk clothes of high priced muscle. One had had his chest staved in by a shock maul, the other two had been gun downed. The four leading enforcers were already pushing into through the door and into the next room, bullets and las beams smacking against their suppression shields or glancing off their armour as they advanced.

Sindar pushed forward into the sprawling living room and fired at the big man by the minibar, who was blazing away with a heavy slug thrower. The executioner round took him in the shoulder and almost severed his arm. She splattered red all over his chest with the shot cartridge and he fell. She fired at the gun men hiding behind the disintegrating sofa as she advanced into the room.

Where were the cultists? Not the flunkies and bodyguards, but the men Inquisitor Yardilon had wanted to take. The men who were meeting with Sevran Dask.

-------------------------------------------------------------

The walls were no where near thick enough to obscure the boom of the Arbites combat shotguns. Jolan's foretelling had struck moments before the raid and the inquisitor had bolted suddenly to the side room. Not ten seconds latter the Arbites assault had begun and the hope of brokering a deal with the regional leaders of the Golden Dream had gone up in smoke.

"Move!" Jolan ordered. Let the heretics slow down the Arbites while they attempted to buy their leaders an opportunity to escape. Jolan knew better. Escape was going to be damn near impossible.

Steban, a big, violent man Jolan had recruited on Steaderstrad lead the way. The thug wore armour underneath dark billowing silks and kept his hair shaved and his beard trimmed short. He knew nothing of the true mission, being merely the kind of expendable asset any good chaos magus always had nearby. Danell Keys took up the rear.

"Damn boss!" Steban snarled. "No way here." And indeed there wasn't as the room Steban had found was merely a bathroom the size of a small apartment, with a ceiling almost four meters above the floor and a water fall running along the far wall. It seemed to be mostly marble and gold leaf. Jolan extended his psychic senses. Extensive practice in the art of farseeing had made certain formerly impossible efforts merely strenuous. There were no hostile souls above.

He gathered the power of the warp into two terrible rending claws and ripped through the ceiling. Metal and plas parted under the telekinetic impulse, pipes burst and floor above was torn open. The talons closed on Keys with great care and carried him to the floor above.

"Us next?" said Steban nervously.

"No," said Jolan. His efforts here must have registered on a psi tracker or on the mind of a sensitive. One, or both, would be along on this operation. Keys carried with him what he needed to evade and survive. Jolan Gix would betray the assassin if he attempted to follow. Jolan rushed from the room and towards the window on the outer wall.

"Boss?" asked Steban. The fight had died down now as the Arbites had not needed long to overcome the cultists. Jolan took another exit from this room, which lead to a bedroom with a glorious view of the smaug ladden lower levels of Hive Aronax and the ravaged earth beyond.

The leaders of the Golden Dream had commanded considerable wealth, enough to own luxuries spire edge apartments. The windows were massively thick slabs of transpex armour, but they were still window. "Hold the door," Jolan ordered. Shouting and the sound of heavy boots came closer.

Steban hesitated, a long barrelled laspistol in his hands. Jolan didn't wait for a response. He drew upon his power and bored through the window with a blindingly bright lance of blue-white fire. Steban was firing out of the room, his laspistol making a cracking sound as each bolt seared air. Booms answered and Steban's skull exploded, splattering blood, bone, and grey matter over the carpets and walls.

Jolan's hole was now about two meters in diameter. Good enough. The inquisitor stepped through the window and into space, gliding down and around the spire on wings of telekinetic force. There was no way that they would fail to detect this display of power, but he would soon be well out of their range and it was unlikely that they possessed the means to follow him.

His flight path took him out of line of sight of the window as he circled part of the hive city. Not far below him were the out thrust landing pads and docking ports for the starships that regularly anchored in high orbit, shipping good to and from the hive. He altered course towards one the nearer pads. Once he landed it would be an easy matter to exit his arrival point and vanish into the hive's teeming millions.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-08-29 05:55am

Sindar Extos stepped over Steban's headless corpse. She immediately saw the gaping hole in the window. "Throne of Earth!" She turned he head. "Jexan! Get in here! Now!"

The stooped shouldered man hustled into the room. He was pale and slim, with a completely shaved head. He wore carapace armour under his heavy brown robe. "There is only one psyker left and he is rapidly leaving," the Sanctioned Psyker said.

"I know that!" she snarled. "He jumped out of the thrice damned window! Can we follow?"

"What?"

"Can you fly me down after him before the heretic gets away?" she shouted.

"Y-yes."

"Then do it!" She activated her vox. "Inquisitor, target Dask appears to be escaping. Engaging in pursuit down the side of the hive."

------------------------------------------------------------------

Jolan Gix glided down towards the landing pad. The space port projected from the side of the termite mound shaped hive in order to accommodate the traffic. Huge pads sprouted from the hive's side allowing transports and orbital shuttles to land and then off load down the broad walkways. Customs inspectors and others would be there as well, but that couldn't be helped. It was vastly easier than trying to fight through an Arbites assault squad and whatever back up they had.

Jolan neared a shuttle as cargo was being off loaded from its belly. Several workers or ship's crew noticed him and pointed. Heads turned his way. The inquisitor landed on the edge of the pad on bent knees. Workers scattered away from the witch in their midst. Jolan ran down the causeway towards the hive. And that's when he felt the power.

He turned his head and looked up as he ran. Two figures were descending towards him, one robed and the other wearing the armour of the Adeptus Arbites. Apparently a two kilometer fall had been insufficient. He wrapped himself in a telekinetic cocoon and launched himself down the causeway with a burst of telekinetic force.

A shell burst against his shields as he neared the two guards near the entrance to the hive's interior. They were raising their lasguns as he swooped past, but were not fast enough to track him. He hit the ground and continued running, pushing into the lines of cargo handlers.

The entry corridor was big, to accommodate large amounts of men and cargo. Midway along the length was a security station that observed the flow of men and goods. One labourer tried to stop him. Jolan pistol whipped him in the face and then knocked his legs out from under him. Men broke out of the way of his advance.

He heard shouts from behind him. "Inquisition! Stop that man!" Throne! Not merely Arbites but the Inquisition. Men in front of bolted or hesitated. Jolan didn't.

He raised the Hevucar and put two rounds in the chest of the closest man. He fell, blood gushing from his wounds. He sent forth an impulse of crippling pain in wave in front of him, dropping men screaming to their knees. Behind him came the boom of the combat shotgun. Pellets and a slug were deflected by his force shield. Behind him men screamed as they were struck by executioner rounds aimed in his direction.

He half looked back as he ran and fired several shots back. They didn't dissuade his pursuers. He felt a lance of psychic force slam into his shields and then crack them apart, leaving him naked against the enforcer's weapons.

He struck back with a blast of telekinetic force, knocking the Arbiter over and sending her gun spinning back down the corridor. A manifestation of pure malice erupted from his forehead, a many fanged warp eel formed of dark light. It flew through he air and struck the psyker. He screamed and fell, convulsing. Jolan turned back and continued running.

The guards from the guard posts had their laspistols drawn and were trying to get a bead on him as direct line of sight was blocked by a cargo raft in front of Jolan. The inquisitor moved to the left and shot at the man he could see. He fired six times, hitting him twice in the chest. The man fell. A las beam missed Jolan's face by centimeters. No time to mess around. Jolan boiled the guard's brain inside his skull.

The inquisitor kept on running. The hive was a very big place, easy to hide in for a man with his skills and resources. He just needed to not use his powers to give himself away to auspexes and psykers and get enough distance. He just needed to get a little further and then this would be over.

Sindar Extos activated her vox as she rose off the floor. "This is Extos. Target is loose at the spaceport level. Jexan is down. I have lost contact."

"Understood," a strong female voice replied. "A lock down of the entire hive section is underway. Reinforcements will be en route. Hunt him. Yardilon out."

Raj Ahten · Post by **Raj Ahten** » 2006-08-29 05:29pm

Ah, I thought Gix wouldn't escape as easily as flying out a window. How many more loyal Imperium troops will be killed so he can escape? Will he escape? I think he will, him knowing common inquisition tactics. Plus he has his assassin ace in the hole.

Imperial Overlord · Post by **Imperial Overlord** » 2006-09-03 07:21am

Jolan kept running. Alarm klaxons were blaring now and people were running around in a panic. He heard gun fire behind him and screams as well. Several bullets bounced off his shield. He fired back, barely even trying to aim. The Arbites was back on her feet and had an auto pistol in her hand. She wasn't backing off.

He was burning power and shining like a lamp in an underhive tunnel to every Sanctioned Psyker or agent with an active psi tracker. Unless he did something to radically change the situation and did it now, he was going to be cornered and run down like a rabid dog.

He slammed Extos off he feet with a telekinetic shove and sent her bouncing back over the floor. He ejected the magazine from his pistol and dropped it into his pocket while drawing another one and reloading on the run.

What he wanted was dead ahead. A bank of lifts that ran the length of the hive spire, allowing recently men and goods easy access to and from the starport. They showed every sign of being lockdown and there were a dozen security troops standing guard. For the most part they wore flak armour and carried autoguns. All of them wore the insignia of whatever great house handled port duties.

They were either very fast or just jumpy. Either way the results were the same. Autoguns roared and streams of bullets came his way. The majority missed and a lot of those struck flesh behind him. Slugs struck and bounced off his telekinetic shell as screams of fear and pain erupted behind him.

A raging inferno of green flame exploded in their midst. Flesh was blasted to char and plastic ran like syrup in the intense heat. The flames faded as blackened corpses clutching the remnants of weapons toppled and a wave of heat struck Jolan Gix. He pushed his way forward the the heat shimmer and furnace heat born of his pyrokinetic assault The doors to the lift shafts were locked close, which didn't matter much since the entire lift system had been shut down.

Jolan raised his hand and the doors flew inward, torn away by his telekinetic power. Some instinct warned him of a threat from behind him and the inquisitor spun to see Sindar Extos swinging her shock maul at him. The massive weapon was only slowed by the telekinetic shield, which Jolan had erected to to deflect projectiles energy beams. He managed to parry it, striking aside the maul's shaft with his left arm.

The shaft still carried charge, even if it was much less powerful than being struck directly by the head, and Jolan's arm went limp as fiery pain enveloped the limb. The inquisitor bit back a curse and dodged out of the way of Sindar's backhand swing.

She feinted with a poke, but he didn't take the bait. She raised the maul for another feint or an overhead strike. Jolan never found out which because that gave him the opening he was looking for. It was a trap, of course, to keep him playing the dodge around game until help arrived or to get him to try to step inside and get a face full of gauntlet for his troubles. Instead he launched a side kick and caught her in the lower abdomen, just below her breastplate. She folded up with a groan and he stepped forward and kicked up.

His foot connected with her chin and knocked her back and off her feet. She struck the floor and her head lolled at a bad angle. Jolan supressed a curse. Her bad luck, he hadn't wanted to break her neck, but he hadn't had much choice. He stepped into the lift shaft and fell into darkness.

--------------------------------------------------------------------

"So you're telling me he could be anywhere in the spire by now," said Inquisitor Dana Yardilon. Even calm, and she was anywhere near calm at the moment, the inquisitor was a formidable figure. Her well muscled frame was a touch under two meters tall and she was cat quick and weasel vicious. At the moment her skin was pale and her eyes and hair were dark as were her robes. In other circumstances, some men might call her beautiful. Terrifying was the word that would probably leap into their mouths now.

"My lady," replied Zoshan Chess, "he may not even be in the spire any longer." Zoshan was an old operator, a veteran of countless hunts and campaigns who even with juvenant treatment and augmentic replacements, past the age when he confronted the enemies of the Imperium directly. Now the grey haired, saffron skinned man plotted, schemed, and analyzed for the benefit of his masters and the soldiers under his command. "Attempts to seal it off and systematically search it are unlikely to capture Dask. And the damage to the hive's prosperty due to interruption of commerce, industry, and the diversion of resources-"

"Won't make it worth while to even try," Yardilon finished. "So what do we do now that Dask has slipped through the net?" The inquisitor was clearly frustrated and started pacing angrily through her luxury suite. "He's going to get away. Again."

"The destruction of the Golden Dream is hardly inconsequential mistress. And the medicae report that Sindar is recovering nicely. Whatever Dask intended to do here has been thwarted. A significant cult has been uprooted and if Dask's luck doesn't hold, he will be joining the rolls of the dead. Our victory isn't total, but it is a victory." He lit the iol stick protruding from his ebony holder and sucked in a mouthful of sweet smoke.

Yardilon snarled. "This time he may evade us. Maybe even the next, but his days are numbered. The only question is when."

Vehrec · Post by **Vehrec** » 2006-09-03 08:45am

How Ironic. Jolan starts this to find his archnemisis, and in the process, becomes the nemisis of this Yardilon. I can't help but feel that she will be running around following him, and sending him running from various cults. It might start to get suspicious to other chaos servants, the way he always gets away. In his case, it's skill, but sometimes two wrongs DO make a right.