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post #1 of 11 (permalink) Old 03-10-10, 08:41 AM Thread Starter
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Hi, sorry I haven;t posted in forever since my opening few..this is something I just wrote up while waiting for a download to finish. It still far away from complete, but I think a decent start. Let me know what y’all thinks.

————————————————————————-
My name is Lawrence. Lawrence Orabian. This is my story. Believe it if you wish. It matters not.

It was late. Late enough that the only souls about at this hour were either the foolhardy or the deadly. I stood just outside the light of what passed for a streetlamp and watched streamers of mist curl about my feet like a lover’s caress. Or the tentacles of some forgotten swamp-beast.

I am an Inquisitor in the Emperor’s Most Holy Inquisition. Full Loremaster of the Ordo Malleus. Beacon of His Light in the close of the 41st Millennium. And I’m afraid of the dark. Times like these its not hard to see why the Eldar consider us vermin.

I search for the iron mental discipline drummed into me first at the Schola Progenium and later in the Inquisition; trying to calm my jittery nerves with the same ease I stamp out my now cold Iho stick. It doesn’t work. Only a part of my nerves is from the task at hand. The rest of it, most if it , is because I am meeting her.

Delilah.

Its been seven years since we battled the Cult of the Third Eye on Drakan II together. Seven years since we parted with nary a kiss on our own individual quests. And now, when mine comes to a <need a good word here>, there’s no-one else I’d rather have at my side in the deep. Or dread more.

Except maybe the Grey Knight Grandmaster Solis. But thats another story.

The street’s emptied. Like animals before a storm, the few scuttling hivers had vanished, leaving me alone with my mist, crushed Iho stick and jittery nerves. The factorium-ash was coming down hard now, a grey powder that covered everything, got in your nose and throat and made you cough just before you executed a heretic.

Its almost time. Prima Donna that she may be, there’s enough Malleus in Delilah that she appreciates the importance of time in our work. She won’t be late.

‘Still clinging to the shadows, Lawrence? And you call yourself an Emperor’s man..’

She manages to do it every time. In a totally silent street, in a world that’s turning grey with ash, she walks up to within 10 feet of me in a scarlet coat and spooks me halfway to the Golden Throne.

Damn.

“Delilah. Ever the showstopper. Its good to see you too.

“Come Lawr, you know I don’t go for all the cloak-and-dagger-Holy-Inquisitor charade.” It was hard to see if she was smirking under the brim of her hat. But I hope she was. “It is good to see you. But I would have appreciated a more civilized place to meet. Planet included.”

“I didn’t pick this planet. And the reason for my call justifies this ‘charade’. I’ve called all Five.”

“All five surviving Outsiders? My, my, looks like Lawrence has hooked a big one.”

“Yes. A big one. Let the rest get here before I explain matters. Easier that way”

“As you wish, Darling”

I went back to contemplating ash and mist. I missed my jittery nerves. I’d take them over the weight of her gaze and smirk any day.

The others arrive soon enough, to my relief.

Harvold, my old mate from Schola, now a stocky boulder of a man, with his trusty power mace across his back. I’ve seen him walk up to a roaring Bloodletter and take its head off in a single blow. Not much imagination in Harvold. Even less fear. Lucky soul. His only greetings are a grunt and a nod each for myself and Delilah.

Drisel. Tall, lean, in a perfectly camouflaged grey bodysuit and moving with almost Eldar grace. Falling ash tends to miss her. She promptly engages in a glaring match with Delilah.

Women….

Niacar just appears. I’m not sure if its because he’s so skinny or the fact that he used his psyker skills to mask his presence. Probably both. An open leer for the women, a bit of preening for me and a snort for Harvold later, he’s settled.

We’re used to him now.

***

We Five are the last remaining Outsiders of this generation. All of us are Malleus, and yet we stand apart. With good reason.

The first Outsiders were rumored to have been founded in the dark times after the Heresy by the High Patriarch of the Inquisition, Iacton Cruze himself. The Outsiders were charged with a singular duty, to watch over humanity; to await, and to stand against, the awakening of the Forgotten.

Even thinking the name of that Unholy collective chills me to the core and at the same time sends a warm glow through my extremities. They are our purpose. Indescribably ancient and powerful warp entities, birthed in that un-place aeons before the rise of humanity. Lacking the malevolent intelligence of The Four, but still far too powerful to be subjugated, it is the rare fool who learns of these creates and attempts to release them.

When they try, we stand ready. As we have for ten millenia. Every generation yields seven, seven mortals to stand against seventeen timeless beasts, and we have always prevailed.

As we shall now.

***

It’s time. Everyone’s here and looking at me expectantly. (Or just looking, in Harvold’s case).

“Thank you and Him Upon the Throne for coming. I have had word from my contacts here. A cult on this planet, evidently a splinter faction of the one crushed Lord Hand on Torkiin, is trying to bring one of them to this plane. It is rumored that the Great Blasphemer, Kruor himself, is involved”

Surprisingly, its Harvold who speaks first. “When? Which one?”

I choose to answer his latter question first, with an edgewise glance at Delilah to catch her reaction.

“Jabberwocky.”

I can see Delilah arch her eyebrow. For her, that’s the equivalent of a lesser being keeling over in shock. Drisel and Niacar are more open in their reaction, albeit vastly opposing in nature. Where Niacar’s outline seems to haze far more than any amount of ash could warrant, Drisel looks ready to try and poke out the Eye of Terror. Harvold just shrugs. He’ll be ready. He always is.

I continue, “It will happen tonight”.

***

————————————————————————-
End Part 1.
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post #2 of 11 (permalink) Old 03-10-10, 06:15 PM
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i really liked it mate. keep up the awesome work and i'll be awaiting the next installment.

CP

The Founding Fields

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post #3 of 11 (permalink) Old 03-11-10, 02:38 PM
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wooow! I like! +rep
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post #4 of 11 (permalink) Old 03-11-10, 02:51 PM Thread Starter
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thanks y'all. Part II hopefully tonight, else tomorrow for sure.
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post #5 of 11 (permalink) Old 03-11-10, 04:21 PM
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Mightily impressed and intrigued... Rep mate!...
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post #6 of 11 (permalink) Old 03-11-10, 08:08 PM
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really great use of dialogue.I want MORE MORE MORE +rep!
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post #7 of 11 (permalink) Old 03-14-10, 12:29 PM
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I loved it, I love 1st person and I love good characters. You capture it all verywell indeed!

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post #8 of 11 (permalink) Old 03-14-10, 01:01 PM
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Yes more soon plz.+rep

No Pity! No Remorse! No Fear!
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post #9 of 11 (permalink) Old 03-16-10, 08:18 PM Thread Starter
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Part II – Too much talk, not enough time.

“Come. It's not far. But we haven't much time.” I turned to leave but was stopped by a snort from dear Niacar.

“we are not going anywhere. Not without an explanation. You summon us without so much as a whisper on what we face, to this Emperor-forgotten mudball, drop a name and expect-”

“We do not have the time for this!” I burst out. I should have expected his petulance. “Kruor is here, and he will start the ritual soon, we need to get to the catacombs before-”

“No Lawrence, we need to know what has happened to bring us to this moment. Make the time.” Clicking sounds punctuate Drisel's statements. Her lamentation blades are never quiet.

I sighed. I hated the loss of time, I needed to end this. But I also needed them.

“Very well. As we all know, Kruor, the Great Blasphemer and mercenary-summoner had gone to ground somewhere in this subsector after Lord Hand ruined his last endeavour. I had seeded several hives like this with informants, with hope of rooting him out when he started.... working again.”

I paused, twiddled my toes and continued, “I had given up hope, and was planning to start hunting for him all over again, when I received word from an informant in this very hive. A minor cult had joined forces with him and, flush with funds and new members, was planning something..significant.”

“What brought me running, and made me call for you, was a name and picture my informant was shown at a cult meeting he infiltrated. The name was Dreadwing.”

I looked about my council of peers, hoping for a reaction. We were all well versed with the Scrolls of Forgotten Names, and Dreadwing, The Red Predator, known to man from prehistory as The Jabberwocky, was a prominent character.
None of my fellow Inquisitors so much as raised an eyebrow. From the looks of things, the consensus was that I had panicked on hearsay and wasted everyone's extremely valuable time. So I played my final card to convince them.

“I was able to confirm that it was a pictogram of the jabberwocky that my informant saw when I...questioned him”.

“Questioned? You mean mind-purged him, don't you?”

“I do what I must, Drisel, do not doubt that. We all do what we must.”

<especially you. Killer>

“Now, we must reach the catacombs of this hive within 2 hours, on foot. I'm going. Who here wishes to join me in our Holy Duty and who wishes to stand here and demand progress reports like an administratum wretch?”

That last rant finally got them going. Knuckles were cracked, shoulders flexed and we marched off single file through a nearby tunnel, into the catacombs.

***

“Drisel, take point. Your lamentation blades will be most effective. Harvvold, the rearguard, if you please.”

We were just entering one of the main catacomb tunnels, and while I did not expect pickets this far out from the site, I preferred to be cautious.

“Put yourself right in the middle of us where it's safest, why don't you? Coward will get us all killed by some freak mutant down here..”

“Not if you kill us first with the whinging Niacar, We would all be most bliged if you shut the Throne up”

One look at Delilah and I knew that that helping hand was going to cost me.

I did not have to wait. “So what is your plan Fearless Leader? Or do we wade into apostates as we always do and hope Niacar complains the beast back into the warp?”

Delilah's tone is infinitely worse than anything Niacar could say or do. But I can't react to her. Not ay more.

“Kruor is the key. We get him, we end this. Drisel, Harvold and myself will be the distraction, and 'wade in', slaughter and disrupt things as much as possible. Niacar, Kruor is yours to stop. Your psyk-shadow effect should get you past whatever guards he has.”

My logic was sound. Even Niacar couldn't fault it.

“And what about me? Surely you didnt forget me in your master plan?” Delilah sounded almost piqued.

“Delilah, I can't...I don't..sorry..just, just hold our escape route.”

“.. As you say, Dear.”

“Or is It Lawrence, that you can't trust yourself where I'm concerned anymore.” Delilah's force-whisper was project to me alone. “And you hold to this frail hope that a heroic performance against heavy odds will win my heart back, or at the least, silence yours?”

Not for nothing are those of the Inquisition feared.

***

Meanwhile, our little intrepid band had penetrated fairly deep into the catacombs. Green luminant fungi bathed everything in an emerald haze, not unlike the night-vision targeter on a Leman Russ. The floor was damp and covered with a n ooze that made footing tricky and ruined good boots. We were alone, not even a hive rat.

That changed soon enough.

End Part 2.
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post #10 of 11 (permalink) Old 03-18-10, 07:52 PM
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Heys, I like how this works. Short but still holding enough information to make the picture work. Nice.
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