Chapter Text
It is the 41st Millennium.
For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of His inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from a bygone mythical age . He is the Carrion Lord of the vast Imperium of Man for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day so that He may never truly die.
Yet even in His deathless state, the Emperor continues His eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in His name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst His soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the Tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat to humanity from aliens, heretics, mutants -- and far, far worse.
To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold trillions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable.
This is but one tale of those times.
Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in this grim dark future there is only war.
Know that you will find no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.
It was a strange group that had assembled aboard the rather down-to-heel cargo vessel. Each had arrived answering the summons given to them by a blank-eyed courier. It was a simple and perfunctory message; giving a date, time, and location and was signed off with a single epithet: The Emperor Protects.
Prior to this, each had been plucked from their previous life and thrust into a dizzying battery of tests, questions, and interrogations. To say nothing of the numerous lectures given in darkened chambers that left them sick to their stomach, or the near endless sequence of codes and ciphers to be memorized and subsequently destroyed. All this in the hopes of proving worthy to serve at His left hand, as a lowly acolyte to an Inquisitor.
None of them had even been on a space vessel before. Much less left their home planet of Scintilla. They knew their home was the capital of the Calixis sector, a small portion of the northernmost part of the wider Imperium of Man. They had learned as children that the sector contained many highly populated and important worlds, despite being so far from the Imperial heartlands, yet had only ever heard their names as if they were distant far off lands.
To leave the world of your birth was a rarity for the common folk of the Imperium. Usually reserved for servants of the throne or the rich and wealthy of the galaxy. Though their current accommodations left the party feeling like neither of those groups.
The Brazen Sky, the vessel that the six acolytes had been hustled aboard some three days ago, was hardly the most luxurious of vessels. It’s large, rusty walled open crew bay acting as lodging for the party. Filled with lumpy cots, mismatched fittings, and flickering glow-lamps that would wink out for most of a day before coming back to life again. To say nothing of the noise. Constant mechanical grinding from parts that may or may not be working, screeching behind plas-steel plates.
It was a miracle none of them had been driven mad.
The few crew members the group had talked to assured them the vessel was in good repair. Capable of making the trip across the well-travelled trade route in a few days. However this did little to dismay their trepidation at their current transport.
One of the six, a man who’d introduced himself as “Rat,” implied the infamous Inquisition must be having an off day, given their current arrangements.
Even in jest, the others hadn’t appreciated this veiled criticism of their new lord.
The man in question was quite the sight to behold, for no other reason in that he fit what most of them envisioned when they thought of under-hive scum. Short, runty, and clad in an odd assortment of gang leathers underneath a quilted vest, topped by an outrageous and unruly mop of dyed hair. Strands of red, yellow, and orange spilled out in every possible direction to give the impression of either an explosion or bonfire that framed a quite plain face by comparison.
The rest of the crew left them alone. Even when the six were rubbing shoulders with ratings and engineers in the cramped galley for meal times they were roundly ignored. They never advertised their status as members of the Inquisition but it seemed the crew had an inkling of who they were.
The grew up learning all manner of strange rumours and stories about the void-born, those who were born and lived upon the countless space vessels of the Imperium. Just as one would typically never leave the planet of their birth, the void-born would typically live and die within the hulls of their home ships. The pale-skinned and tall people of the void were said to be a strange and insular people, perfectly at home with the mysterious and supernatural occurrences of travel within the warp and within the darkness between the stars. They were a cursed folk in the eyes of most others, leading them to rarely seek company outside their own.
When it became clear they’d have little company besides each other for the trip, introductions soon followed.
The first to break the ice was a tall, thick set man with a ruddy complexion, short cut blond hair and blue eyes. He introduced himself as Quintos, a simple monk from a monastic order. Clad in ecclesiastical robes, he presented a friendly character, wise beyond his years. However, none failed to noticed the inquisitorial prison brand upon his left cheek.
The second to speak up, introduced herself as Praetia of House Orlean. The tall, dark-skinned woman seemed to ooze “nobleborn.” By far the best dressed and armed of the party: her well maintained uniform, snowy white hair in a delicate braid, massive shotgun and holstered sidearm made her look almost comically out of place in the run down crew bay. She definitely had an air of authority about her, alongside a haughty confidence of someone used to taking charge.
Next was Guardsman Garvel, a soldier from Scintilla. Brawny, with fair skin, grey eyes, and mousy brown hair with a few dyed streaks of green. The guardsman spoke with a firm stoicism, giving the impression of a solid and unyielding warrior. Next to Praetia he was the most heavily equipped for the mission, carrying his lasgun, laspistol sidearm, and full kit and gear. Unlike the noblewoman, Garvel’s looked as if his had come straight from a warzone. Clean and cared for but with clear signs of wear and tear.
The final two acolytes had to be coaxed into introducing themselves. The first, a sister of the Adeptus Sororitas. Judging by her equipment she was from the Hospitaller order, healer maidens of the church. She gave her name: Atella, and nothing else. The others couldn’t even get an impression of what she looked like underneath her carapace armour and cowl, save a pair of light brown eyes.
The final member had been too busy combing through a dataslate to pay attention, passingly introducing himself as Intios before continuing to devour the information inside the tablet-shaped device. He was a slender man, clad in the robes of a scribe of the administratum. He had short-cut raven black hair, olive skin, and brown eyes. It was clear he didn’t want to be there and was not shy of making that obvious by his reticence to talk and his sole focus on the device in his hands.
The man was clearly familiar with such technology, and was able to easily bring up the data it stored. The device had been given to him before boarding by another attendant of their Lord. On it was a briefing for their mission as well as information about their destination.
The Inquisition offices on Scintilla have been formally issued with a request for assistance from the settlement of Stern Hope on Iocanthos. The report, while vague, suggest suspicious disturbances, possibly psychic or warp-based, occurring in the area of a new cathedral raised to honour Saint Drusus. The cathedral lies at the heart of the remote outpost and its successful completion will do much to further the Imperial faith on this troubled world. A laudable goal and one that the Holy Ordos shares.
You are requested and required to proceed to the planet Iocanthos where you will assist a Senior Inquisitorial Agent, Aristarchus the Seer, in investigating the incidents and ensuring that the consecration of the cathedral goes as planned. Your principal tasks are to gather data about any phenomena encountered and, where needed, eliminate any threats that you find. For the duration of the mission, Aristarchus has the honour of command over you in my name. Assist him and afford him the same loyalty as you would give me, in the God-Emperor ’s name.
Passage for you has been arranged on the trade-hauler Brazen Sky for immediate departure to Iocanthos. Make yourself known and familiarize yourself with your fellow Acolytes on board using the codes you have learned during your training.
Looking up from the tablet, Intios finally noticed the conversations that had begun while he was reading. Praetia, Quintos and ‘Rat’ (he still couldn't believe he wished to be called that) seemed to be chatting amicably about alcohol. Garvel and Atella also seemed to have struck up a conversation of sorts, although there’s seemed more sombre and subdued.
Guess that step has been achieved, Intios thought before returning to the dataslates’ instructions.
Landing close to the site of the incident is impractical due to its geographical location in a mountain range and the potential hostility of the natives. Instead you will make planetfall at Port Suffering (Iocanthos’ primary Imperial outpost) and meet Aristarchus there. From Port Suffering arrangements have been made for your journey to Stern Hope.
“I assume the dataslate holds something relevant to our mission Intios?” Praetia asked, drawing the adept out of his focus.
“It’s a mission briefing from Lord Vaarak,” Intios replied, his answer drawing the others out of their conversations. “It seems we are to meet up with an Aristarchus the Seer once we make planet-fall.”
“Aristarchus” Quintos repeated, contemplating the name for a few moments. “I believe I recognize that name, a renowned Seer within the Ordo Calixis from what I’ve heard.”
“Says he is to be in command for this investigation” Intios continued, “seems we are to investigate strange occurrences at a new settlement called Stern Hope and the new cathedral being erected there.”
“New Cathedral?” Praetia echoed, listening attentively for important information. “Seems rather remote for a cathedral. Does it say more about this Stern Hope?”
Investigating further, Intios thumbed through several of the addendum attached to their mission briefing.
Missionary-Abbot Orland Skae successfully petitioned for the first Iocanthan cathedral to be built in the settlement Stern Hope two years ago, and since then reports indicate that he has gathered a sizeable congregation of native converts and worthy off-world pilgrims to his cause. Skae himself, a very distant scion of Scintillan nobility, has managed to garner both off-world donations and considerable local support to his mission, so far succeeding where others have failed.
“Sounds like quite the holy man.” Quintos said, quite impressive by this Abbot Skae. Garvel and Atella both nodded in agreement.
“Indeed.” Praetia said, “do we have more details on these disturbances?”
After a few moments of shifting through data, Intios came upon the second addendum:
As the cathedral structure has neared completion, unusual phenomena have been evidenced both at the site and in the surrounding area. These include strange lights in the hills, animals attacks, missing persons, an upsurge in accidents and unexplained deaths. These incidents have culminated recently in more serious and obviously unnatural events such as manifestations of phantom sounds; walls weeping blood, telekinetic disturbances and other such phantasmagoria.
The matter-of-fact delivery of the adept undercut the disturbing nature of what they were being sent to investigate. Still Quintos, Garvel, and Atella all made warding signs of the aquila, even ‘Rat’ shuddered and seemed to shrink into himself as the worst of the phenomena was related. Only Praetia stoically took in the information with the same calm as it was delivered.
“The next addendum has a briefing on the planet.” Intios related, continuing on before any could comment on this unnerving revelation.
Iocanthos is an anarchic pseudo-feudal society, where all power-relationships are based on violence or its threat. A war-torn and brutal world, the control of the planet rests with various warlord and clan factions that compete to harvest or steal the planet’s only tithed material, Ghostfire pollen, in order to turn it over to the Imperium in exchange for supplies. The most powerful warlord is currently King Vervai Skull who is currently acknowledged as Iocanthos’s de facto planetary governor. Iocanthos boasts a single fortified Adminstratum-controlled spaceport settlement, Port Suffering, where the tithe is collected and trans-shipped.
‘Rat’ let out a hearty laugh, having regained his confidence from the earlier revelations.
“Sounds like a proper cheery place that un’,” ‘Rat’ chuckled, “priests’ll build a ruddy church anywhere won’t they.”
“I can think of no place more needing of the Emperor’s guidance.” Quintos countered, though still keeping a friendly tone. “To bring His light and protection to such a benighted world is an honourable and worthy cause.”
‘Rat’ merely shrugged, neither agreeing or disagreeing with the sentiment.
“I’m curious about this ‘Ghostfire pollen’” Praetia inquired, “does it say anything on what it is?”
With a bit of digging, Intios found reference to the plant in question.
Ref—Ghostfire Pollen: Iocanthos’s sole tithe. It is a powerful psychoactive substance u sed as the base for a considerable number of combat drugs used by the Imperial Guard’s penal legions throughout the Segmentum Obscurus.
“Worthy cause or not,” said Praetia, after taking a moment to digest the information on the strange flowers. “our destination is certainly a violent one. I’ve also heard that the planet is oft used as a dumping round for criminals and recidivists. I assume all of you are armed in some way?”
Both herself and Garvel were obviously armed to the teeth. Intios and Atella both had simple knives and handguns as weaponry. Intios a simple laspistol where as Atella wielded a stub revolver. Quintos was similarly armed, tied to his belt he had a one-handed warhammer. Upon prompting from Praetia, he also produced an automatic pistol of sorts from his cloak that appeared to be heavily customized. Where normally one magazine was present instead 3 were nestled side by side in an expanded mag-port. Judging by the colour of the magazines in question, they held different types of bullets.
Not to be out done, ‘Rat’ produced from his vest his own firearm with a smug grin. An immaculate handgun that seemed misplaced in the scruffy man’s possession. Unlike the more stock models the others possessed his had a much more distinct profile owing to the mag-port which projected somewhat from the gun’s curved grip. It seemed much too big yet ‘Rat’ handled it like a well trained gunslinger.
A look of respect passed between the two pistol wielding acolytes.
“Moving on” Intios stated as he stowed away his weapon, somewhat testy after being interrupted.
Iocanthos was taken by General (Saint) Drusus’s 2nd Army Group during the first great crusades through the sector. As the planet lacked any significant technology, Drusus’s forces defeated the indigenous people, known as the Ashleen, in a single week of bloody fighting. Drusus later remarked in his memoirs that the only memorable aspect of the planet was the vast fields of wild flowers which resembled “Shimmering fields of rippling explosions, caught at that fleeting moment between beauty and destruction-”
“From Breaching the Darkness” both Garvel and Quintos interrupted, the former of which left the group somewhat surprised. Even Intios forgot his annoyance at being interrupted again.
Gravel, sensing the unspoken question, spoke simply “my previous platoon commander was reading it, said the words of the saint would help guide us in battle. I read a few passages when he offered.”
“And you were wise to do so” said Quintos, nodding sagely, “I can think of few men more suitable to study for an officer or soldier of the Imperium.”
“Beyond that there are some additional notes as well” Intios supplied.
In times past, Iocanthos served as a penal dumping ground for undesirables that the Scintillan authorities for various reasons didn’t wish to execute or expatriate further afield. Such exiles were given minimal supplies and allowed to thrive or falter without further interference. The current population is largely a mixture of their descendants and the native Ashleen.
“The is similar to what I have heard” concurred Praetia.
“and follows with what we know of the place” agreed Quintos.
Imperial xeno-botanist Morgren Thunt was the person who discovered that the pollen of the native Ghostfire flowers contained powerful psychoactive properties and refined their use.
After being graced with a powerful vision telling her to build a temple, “Where the flowers burn” Sister Semberle of the Adeptus Sororitas-
As Intios mentioned the adepta, Atella seemed to jump a little in surprise. Curling into herself again as Intios continued:
-came to the world and ordered the building of the Abbey of the Dawn in one of Iocanthos’s flint mountain ranges. The Sororitas facility is forbidden to outsiders.
None save Garvel and Intios noticed Atella’s strange reaction but both chose not to mention it.
With their master’s briefing done, and the acolytes unable to explore the ship, they had nothing to do but spend the next three days simply getting to know one another. Quintos, ‘Rat’, and Garvel made strange bedfellows, the trio getting into several discussions about various weapons they’d used over the years. Praetia and Intios spent most of the time going over and discussing the information on the data-slate and committing every detail to memory.
Atella mostly, kept to herself, only conversing quietly with Garvel on occasion, what they spoke about neither volunteered.
However, not all of the crew kept their distance from the acolytes. Unfortunately in this case they wishes he did.
The purser Sebek had been the acolyte’s only interaction with the crew of the Brazen Sky. A g aunt and pale man, as was normal for most void born, he’d happily introduced himself to the group when they first settled in, irritating them with his alarmingly obsequious manner and saying that he was there to “see to their needs.”
‘Rat’ and Praetia, having extensive experience with the less than savoury parts of the Imperium knew this meant selling them “grey market” mildly illegal goods.
It was on the third day that ‘Rat’ decided to inquire about the unmentioned goods, seeing what the fawning man had for sale.
“My good man” ‘Rat’ said as he swung a friendly arm around the skinny man’s shoulders, “seeing as my companions and I are off on the ‘morrow, was hoping we could toast to a successful voyage.”
“Ah! I know just the thing, pardon me a moment” Sebek said with his usual flair, disappearing into the ship’s passage ways before returning a few minutes later carrying two items.
The first was an insulated bottle. From what ‘Rat’ had been told back home these were fairly common on vessels like these, something he’d managed to confirm with his own observations during the three day trip. The second was a steel Lho-stick case; the small, plant-filled tubes being a common enjoyment for everyone from guardsmen to menial workers.
Sebek handed ‘Rat’ the bottle, letting him inspect it’s contents. The second he opened the top the potent smell of the spirits inside hit him and brought a smile to his face.
“This is gorsk white gyn, isn't it?” ‘Rat’ inquired.
Sebek responded with a slight nod and opened up the Lho-stick case. Inside was not the simple, white paper wrapped variety ‘Rat’ had known and smoked his entire life. These were of much higher quality; finger thick tubes filled with proper herbs and wrapped in scented brown paper.
Perhaps this annoying purser had his uses, ‘Rat’ thought.
“Where’d you manage to get gorsk white gyn?” the under-hiver asked, storing his purchases in his vest pockets after handing the purser several throne-gelt notes (and talking the purser into a respectable discount)
“Oh, this isn’t the only route our ship has travelled through the Calixis, sir.” Sebek answered, counting the money he’d been handed by ‘Rat’. “Our vessel first plyed the routes of the Josian Reach coreward of here. Fenksworld was a common stop for us in those days.”
Rat had only heard about Fenksworld and the Josian Reach in passing, he had no idea what either place was but he didn’t let his ignorance show.
“Ah, so this ship is well travelled then?”
“Why yes, the Brazen Sky has 120 years of proud service to the Calixis. This route is the one we’ve held the longest, the better part of 30 years sir.”
“Well, your experience at attending folks shows my friend.” ‘Rat’ replied, laying on the charm, “our time here was made great by your efforts.”
“Oh you flatter me sir.” Sebek says, “although I must say it’s rare to have any passengers for this leg of our route.”
“Oh?” ‘Rat’ says, silently encouraging the purser to keep talking.
“Now further on, say the Lugnum to Scintilla stretch, this deck will be packed.” Sebek explained, “I’ll warrant you’ll see no business to be had down on Iocanthos, that’s the way of it.”
“Really.” ‘Rat’ said, digesting this new information. “Do you know much about Iocanthos?”
“A terrible bleak place so I’ve heard,” Sebek answered, “the Ashleen would gut you as soon as look at you, they paint their faces like blue fire to ward off evil spirits they say, and value bullets higher than gold.”
“That certainly does sound rather bleak” said ‘Rat’, “would explain why we’ve had this place ourselves these past few days”
Sebek nods in agreement, looking a tad nervous before continuing:
“Forgive me for saying so, but you see-” he pauses, glancing around before stepping closer, whispering.
“No one goes to Iocanthos sir, not by choice, unless they have hard business if you catch my drift, rather like yourselves”
At this he quickly backs away a step, acting as if he’d said something incriminating.
“Not that I pretend to know who you are, but I think we understand each other, yes?”
Rat simply smiles at the gaunt man, “of course friend, I’ll keep this in mind.”
Sebek, happy to be of service, simply bows to the acolyte before leaving to another art of the ship.
With the purser gone, ‘Rat’ finally allowed the nervousness in he felt to show. This Iocanthos was sounding worse by the second to the underhiver. Between the inquisitors briefing and what the purser just revealed, the man couldn’t help but wonder what throne-forsaken world he was being sent to.
All ‘Rat’ could do was shake his head. I’ve gotten into it this time, haven't I? He thought.
It wasn’t like he had a choice. Even if he was a free man, there wasn’t anything left for him back in Sibellus. His own pride had seen to that.
He sent a silent prayer of sorts to his fallen comrades; pleading with...he supposed the Emperor that their souls found some sort of rest.
The thought made him laugh a bit, now was a hell of a time to start becoming pious.
With three days past as passengers of the Brazen Sky, the ship finally translated back into real space above Iocanthos. The continuous shuddering motion that the acolytes had gotten used to came to stop with a sudden lurch and a sickening wrenching sensation that told them the vessel had just dropped out of warp.
A few minutes later, the pale faced purser appeared in the hatchway with a flourish, advising the six to pack their gear as they are awaited at one of the forward holds.
The group was then lead through a dizzying array of passages, all showing the same signs of age and use as the two areas of the ship they were confined to for the past few days. Already many of these hallways and rooms were buzzing with activity as the crew began it’s preparations for whatever normal business the freighter had on Iocanthos.
After a few minutes of walking the purser brought them to Forward Hold 2/DZ015 (at least that’s what was said on the nameplate). It was a long, narrow and high-vaulted room that held a modest sized lighter: a multi-purpose transport designed to move goods and people from orbit to a planet's surface. Workers were already loading cargo and supplies onto the shuttle as the acolytes approached the open access hatch. As they neared, a grimy, hard-faced deck officer took a dataslate from Sebek, who gave the group one last fawning bow before leaving, quickly disappearing into the crowd of workers.
“Any of you even been on a drop before?”
The question came from the officer, looking at the six with a bored expression. Garvel and Atella both nod an affirmative. When the other four shake there heads, the office gaves them a somewhat sympathetic look before offering them what appeared to be a blue lozenge.
“Would you like a sedative?” he said, “it should help with the descent.”
Intios and ‘Rat’ both agree to take the medication after some deliberation. Quintos and Praetia politely decline.
With the rest of the supplies and the acolytes gear stowed in short order, the six companions made their way inside. The lighter’s interior was cramped and uncomfortable, with little save hard metal seating and heavy padded straps to keep them in place. The moment they were all fully seated, a cold mechanical voice came over the vox-comm and began counting down until descent. The countdown seemed to crawl towards zero, raising the tension in the room and setting them on edge for the coming departure. Upon the final note, the bay doors sealed shut with a hiss and with a final, gut-wrenching lurch the lighter fell into the void of space.
Zero-G quickly asserted itself, causing a few loose objects the acolytes chose to keep on their person to float about. ‘Rat’ and Intios, having never experienced void travel before now, watched them with intense curiosity.
Suddenly, a violent vibration takes hold as an ear-splitting roar erupts from the lighter’s engines, filling the compartment with deafening noise as the vessel makes it’s descent through the planet’s atmosphere. The acolytes could barely think and any conversation would have been completely drowned in the noise. Intios and ‘Rat’ sucked on the blue lozenges they were given as they felt the contents of their stomach protest the shaking of the vessel. Both Quintos and Atella prayed softly to the Emperor, seeking his protection as the noise reached a crescendo. Praetia held on for dear life, hoping the deafening mechanical noises she hears are normal.
Garvel simply took a nap.
The torturous experience lasts for about thirty minutes, after which the shuddering slows and the roaring noise recedes. Praetia and Quintos open their eyes to check on the other passengers, the latter of whom looks a tad green and begins regretting not taking the offered sedative.
Through the lighter’s viewport the light of a bright day fills the compartment as the acolytes breathe a collective sign of relief at the safe re-entry.