Climbing up the stairwell, the man did not know what to expect. The Inquisitor was a relative newcomer to the Ordo, and had been called a prodigy by many of his tutors. He had passed up the ranks faster than any of his fellow aspirants, and had proven himself worthy of the many tests that had been thrown at him along his short career.
Or at least, it was at the moment. The battle armoured, muscular Terran kept his bolt pistols attached to his body, knowing that he might need them at any moment.
After all, what awaited him at the top of this stairwell was what a whole army had died to try and possess, to try and obtain its ungodly secrets. Secrets that if revealed, could pull mankind from the brink of defeat and see humanity reclaim all its glory that had been snatched away from it during the dark days of the Horus Heresy.
So far, the Inquisitor had countered little resistance, which was a surprise. He had been expecting a small sized army at least, but had found nothing. He hadn’t expected the decoy attack made by the Elysian Drop Troop Regiments to have actually distracted the filthy heretical scum away from their most treasured bastion.
He knew that they were dying now, as they were already under strength from the previous, failed assault, which the Inquisitor didn’t really want to think about right now.
Not after he had seen Themos fall, his most trusted advisor, companion and friend cast down by several bastardised cutilists.
He was getting ever closer to his goal now, the Inquisitor knew, and could tell this due to the increase in rarer, tainted artefacts that were mounted on the walls of the tower that had once been finely detailed.
Once, but no longer. Not since the dammed, egotistical, power hungry lord governor had cast aside his oaths of loyalty to the Imperium of Man, turned his back on those that had once remained loyal to him, and seized control of the planet.
The twin suns of the planet made the temperature inside the tower almost unbearable, and the Inquisitor wondered what extreme temperatures that they Elysians must be going through right now. The thought only strayed across his mind for a second, but he couldn’t help feeling a tiny bit guilty for sending good, brave and loyal men to their deaths.
But he felt that it was all worth it in the end, all for the greater good of the Imperium of Man. He had been told, after all, by the late Themos, on the eve before his death, of the legendary resurrection orb, said to be the only power in the universe that could return life from the grave. Well, the only human power in the universe.
The Inquisitor had believed Themos, for since when had the old man ever let him down? Since when had he ever turned himself away from the light of the Imperium, even when faced with impossible odds? Since when had Themos lied?
Never, was the answer to all of those questions. It was Themos had helped the Inquisitor recover after the loss of his planet, and Themos who had helped the Inquisitor recover in the dark days that had followed. Themos had always stood beside him, and the Inquisitor never doubted the man’s faith.
He never had any reason to. The Inquisitor still had to see that Themos’ body was buried safely and with honour, as he had argued that the man should get a proper burial, just like he had always wished for.
These thoughts were brushed from his mind, as the Inquisitor planted both feet firmly at the top of the stairs, and looked at the wooden, black door, the symbol of the ruinous powers etched into its centre, replacing the Imperial Aquila that had once stood there in all its glory.
The Imperial sign itself probably lay defiled in another place or torn into a thousand pieces.
“The Emperor Protects,” whispered the Inquisitor as he drew one of his bolt pistols, and firmly gripped in his hand, the man had every intention to go in guns blazing. It was one of his few flaws, as he could not bear with the stealth approach, it reeked of cowardice.
In this aspect, the Inquisitor had been reckoned similar to the astartes of the White Scars Chapter, the sons of Jagatai Khan, with their precision strikes, but only by those who had not seen the White Scars in action, and had just heard of their tales. The Inquisitor knew this because on his first mission, him and his routine had to end up being rescued by the sons of the Khan, and he had come to respect them even more in the days that had followed, just as he had become a respected figure within the White Scars.
The door took some time to kick open, as it was bolted shut from the inside. This left the Inquisitor with two options. Option number one, that there was another exit, which he highly doubted as the tower looked too narrow to contain one. Option number two, that there was somebody, or something inside.
The door was ripped off its hinges, and the Inquisitor fed his eyes on what was inside, with growing fear. Four banners, each devoted to the respective blasphemous god, lay hung up on the opposite wall, along with various gifts placed at the top of small steps beneath each one, each held in a human skull.
The Inquisitor looked away, and noticed what was in the centre of the room. It was a small table, a small, circular table that was barely big enough to rest both of his bolt pistols. The table wasn’t empty, and the Inquisitor looked up to see a small, blue circular shaped object that was covered in a cloak.
“I was wondering when you’d get here, Thorn.”
The Inquisitor turned to see an all-too familiar figure standing there, with his weapons raised. Then, bullets sprayed in his direction.
Author's Notes: The Inquisitor's name is Thorn, and I intentionally kept it hidden from the reader until the last but one sentance, made by, if you guessed it, Themos. The man who Thorn was loyal to without question, had turned on him. Also, I know
The Tower won't have a hope of standing up to the ones written by more experineced members of the forum, but hey, there's nothing to lose.
Apart from about an hour of my spare time .