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Ok guys and girls, I'm working on a number of pieces that are all inter-conected with reccuring themes and characters that crossover. I imagine them eventually fitting together as a short story collection.
The first piece (though not chronologically in the series) is The Last Testament of Captain Sandeman. (If anyone would like to comment on it, I'd appreciate it.)
So, on to this piece, The Summit, which I shall post in mini-chapters...
“I hate this place” whined Porter, pulling his blanket even tighter as he shivered against the biting wind.
“Ha! You haven’t been here long enough to really hate it, believe me. Scelus is cold and un inviting I’ll give you that much, but once you’ve been out on an extended recon in the mountains you’ll wish you’d been posted on a deathworld!” The Sergeant stifled chuckled, briskly rubbing his arms up and down to keep warm.
Porter looked out at the barren plains of Scelus, the foreboding peaks looming in the distance. The meagre comforts of the makeshift command post did little to make any of the Cadians feel any less isolated. The planet was cold, but its heart, if it had one, was far colder. Such was the relentless gloom that morale was at an all-time low. Suicides had been reported. Porter put the thought from his mind.
"They still sending teams out? I thought most of the ferals had been dealt with."
"Any of the tribesmen still up on the mountains will be making ready for the long winter, I doubt they're what's brought him here."
Porter noted Sergeant Russel's tone. "Brought who, sir?"
Russel grunted. "You'll find out soon enough, so I might as well tell you; an Inquisitor has requested aid from the 331st. Says he wants to lead an expedition to some of the more remote regions."
"I've never seen an Inquisitor before," Ported confessed, his youthful eagerness momentarily dismissing the cold, "can't imagine why one would have business here."
"You forget lad, Scelus was a Space Marine homeworld! No doubt about it, that Inquisitor'll be looking for something nasty the Sons of Malice left behind. Given the stories going round about the ferals' eating habits and the gruesome shit the Sons got up to I'm amazed anymore evidence of their heresy is needed."
A heavy tent flap rustled behind them. "Sir, a message for you."
Russel shot a glare over his shoulder at the head bobbing out of the tent behind him "good of you to inform me the comm unit was working again."
The comm officer gave an embarrassed half smile.
"Alright Anders, I'm coming." The wearied sergeant said. "You too, Porter. Get in and get warm, tell Matthews he's on lookout duty."
Thadius lit a fifth candle and placed it on the table before him. The warm yellow light gave the simple cabin a much less stark feeling, putting the Inquisitor at ease. The Glory of Terra had arrived at his destination and preparations were underway to shuttle the Inquisitor to his rendezvous, apparently though the poor weather conditions on Scelus had made communications difficult.
Thadius welcomed the delay. His investigations had taken him years of patience and study, and he wanted to be fully prepared for this next endeavour. From a storage crate he took out and placed on the table an ornate mahogany box. Tracing his hands across the mother-of-pearl inlay he felt the tingling anticipation of the power contained within. As he undid each of the clasps Thadius considered the losses the Relictors had taken at Phaedron acquiring this prize, losses they could ill-afford. He opened the box and slowly lifted back the black velvet cloth, revealing the blade. Brother-Captain Caiphus had been reluctant to relinquish the daemon weapon, but Thadius and the Relictors shared a similar outlook, so out of mutual respect the blade passed to the Inquisitor.
He lifted the elegant sword, its balance was perfect. Then came the whispering, barely audible, unintelligible. Thadius was aware of the bound daemon's growng influence on him, yet he was more perturbed by his willingness to overlook the subtle taint of chaos that was worming its way into him. The blade was a necesary evil, a tool to fight the unholy, as well as a key to the secrets of the warp. On the trail of the 'lost god' Thadius had had to resort to more and more dangerously radical methods. The binding and interrogation of daemons, the theft of ancient relics, the murder of a fellow Inquisitor.
Were it not for the newly forged alliance he had made with the broken Relictors Chapter, Thadius would have by now been brought to justice by his fellow Inquisitors and surely exicuted. His time was running short. Somewhere, on Scelus, lay a vital clue to the answer, to the explanation of the meanings behind the fragmented texts, long forgotten folk-tales and whispered secrets.
He had studied the reports of the small search parties he had ordered to comb Scelus for clues and had deduced the relative whereabouts of the enigmtically named 'forgotten resting place'.
"In a few hours..." Thadius said quietly.
The Glory of Terra's comm system crackled. "My Lord, your transport to the surface awaits."
* * *
The first piece (though not chronologically in the series) is The Last Testament of Captain Sandeman. (If anyone would like to comment on it, I'd appreciate it.)
So, on to this piece, The Summit, which I shall post in mini-chapters...
The Summit
“I hate this place” whined Porter, pulling his blanket even tighter as he shivered against the biting wind.
“Ha! You haven’t been here long enough to really hate it, believe me. Scelus is cold and un inviting I’ll give you that much, but once you’ve been out on an extended recon in the mountains you’ll wish you’d been posted on a deathworld!” The Sergeant stifled chuckled, briskly rubbing his arms up and down to keep warm.
Porter looked out at the barren plains of Scelus, the foreboding peaks looming in the distance. The meagre comforts of the makeshift command post did little to make any of the Cadians feel any less isolated. The planet was cold, but its heart, if it had one, was far colder. Such was the relentless gloom that morale was at an all-time low. Suicides had been reported. Porter put the thought from his mind.
"They still sending teams out? I thought most of the ferals had been dealt with."
"Any of the tribesmen still up on the mountains will be making ready for the long winter, I doubt they're what's brought him here."
Porter noted Sergeant Russel's tone. "Brought who, sir?"
Russel grunted. "You'll find out soon enough, so I might as well tell you; an Inquisitor has requested aid from the 331st. Says he wants to lead an expedition to some of the more remote regions."
"I've never seen an Inquisitor before," Ported confessed, his youthful eagerness momentarily dismissing the cold, "can't imagine why one would have business here."
"You forget lad, Scelus was a Space Marine homeworld! No doubt about it, that Inquisitor'll be looking for something nasty the Sons of Malice left behind. Given the stories going round about the ferals' eating habits and the gruesome shit the Sons got up to I'm amazed anymore evidence of their heresy is needed."
A heavy tent flap rustled behind them. "Sir, a message for you."
Russel shot a glare over his shoulder at the head bobbing out of the tent behind him "good of you to inform me the comm unit was working again."
The comm officer gave an embarrassed half smile.
"Alright Anders, I'm coming." The wearied sergeant said. "You too, Porter. Get in and get warm, tell Matthews he's on lookout duty."
* * *
Thadius lit a fifth candle and placed it on the table before him. The warm yellow light gave the simple cabin a much less stark feeling, putting the Inquisitor at ease. The Glory of Terra had arrived at his destination and preparations were underway to shuttle the Inquisitor to his rendezvous, apparently though the poor weather conditions on Scelus had made communications difficult.
Thadius welcomed the delay. His investigations had taken him years of patience and study, and he wanted to be fully prepared for this next endeavour. From a storage crate he took out and placed on the table an ornate mahogany box. Tracing his hands across the mother-of-pearl inlay he felt the tingling anticipation of the power contained within. As he undid each of the clasps Thadius considered the losses the Relictors had taken at Phaedron acquiring this prize, losses they could ill-afford. He opened the box and slowly lifted back the black velvet cloth, revealing the blade. Brother-Captain Caiphus had been reluctant to relinquish the daemon weapon, but Thadius and the Relictors shared a similar outlook, so out of mutual respect the blade passed to the Inquisitor.
He lifted the elegant sword, its balance was perfect. Then came the whispering, barely audible, unintelligible. Thadius was aware of the bound daemon's growng influence on him, yet he was more perturbed by his willingness to overlook the subtle taint of chaos that was worming its way into him. The blade was a necesary evil, a tool to fight the unholy, as well as a key to the secrets of the warp. On the trail of the 'lost god' Thadius had had to resort to more and more dangerously radical methods. The binding and interrogation of daemons, the theft of ancient relics, the murder of a fellow Inquisitor.
Were it not for the newly forged alliance he had made with the broken Relictors Chapter, Thadius would have by now been brought to justice by his fellow Inquisitors and surely exicuted. His time was running short. Somewhere, on Scelus, lay a vital clue to the answer, to the explanation of the meanings behind the fragmented texts, long forgotten folk-tales and whispered secrets.
He had studied the reports of the small search parties he had ordered to comb Scelus for clues and had deduced the relative whereabouts of the enigmtically named 'forgotten resting place'.
"In a few hours..." Thadius said quietly.
The Glory of Terra's comm system crackled. "My Lord, your transport to the surface awaits."
* * *