From the Files of Inquisitor Kaede
The following is my attempt at describing the adventures of the Acolytes in a Dark Heresy campaign I run. I have taken minor liberties with some aspects of the plot to attempt to streamline the story into something more fluid and readable. However, my goal is to keep this as true to my Acolytes’ antics as possible, and that I shall do.
Chapter 1
Inquisitor Vownus Kaede is a member of the Ordo Hereticus of the Imperial Inquisition in the Calixis sector. As is the way of one in his position, he has recently recruited a group of exceptional individuals from Imperial society to serve as Acolytes to him. They shall function as investigators and extensions of the Emperor’s will. Herein follows a collection of all obtainable documents detailing the exploits and endeavors of a particular Acolyte team, henceforth simply referred to as the Acolytes.
Episode 1
++BEGIN TRANSCRIPTION RECORDING PLAYBACK++ ++7.413.998.M41. DATING HENCEFORTH MEASURED BY DAYS IN KAEDE’S SERVICE++ ++NOTE: VID RECORDS LOST, CONTENTS DETAILED BY WORK OF ADEPT HOLLANUS++
++VOICE IDENT: KAEDE. FILES CLASSIFIED++ "Hello! I'm Inquisitor Kaede, of the Ordo Hereticus. I am sure you have all been briefed on me, curiously though more thoroughly than I have been briefed on you. I know you only for your various talents. A Guardsman, a capable warrior with keen senses. An Arbitrator, Holy Lawgiver in the Emperor's name. A Tech-Priest, Adept of Mars, schooled in the arts of your Machine God. A psyker, not unlike myself, wielding the latent gifts of the mind so integral to the Imperium of Man. An assassin, an artist in the skill of precisely ending life. Finally, a bit of a rogue, a recruit from the Metallican underhive who I am told has invaluable knowledge of the environs in which the rest of you will most likely be somewhat new to. "
"You six shall form one of my Inquisitorial Acolyte Teams. I routinely recruit and commission such teams to do the work and bidding of the Holy Inquisition. Your tasks shall range from mere enforcement to investigation where you are given a rather free reign, though I will have to see to your aptitudes and the results you bring me before I can more substantially elaborate upon that. "
"First and foremost, however, I mentioned that you probably know of me better than I know of you. I would like to take this opportunity to hear briefly about your backgrounds, so that I might have a better sense of those who I send out in the Emperor's name. "
++VOICE IDENT: KOTOSE, V. SEE ATTACHED FILE. REF ARBITES++ “My name is Voleg” says the scrawny man standing in a shadowy corner of the room. He is dressed in a distinct olive drab jacket bearing the mark of the arbitrator. “I am the Arbitrator you have been seeking in order to keep order and justice in our missions for you.” He lights up a Lho Stick and takes a puff, then coughs as though it were his first. He quickly takes one of the seats and puts out his Lho Stick in his gloved hand. “I am from the dregs of this planet, saved by an Arbitrator and brought up to serve as a hand of our glorious Emperor. There is no greater honor than serving justice in the name of the Emperor. I promise to serve you to the best of my ability, or die trying.”
++VI: K++ "Excellent! I believe I knew your mother. Arbitrator Kotose was a fine servant of the Emperor indeed."
++VI: IGNACE. REF: ASSASSINORUM. FILES CLASSIFIED++ A lanky, pallid man wearing drab clothing and sitting up front stands up and says, "First of all, ye' honor, it is an absolute pleasure to be working with you. The stories of your witch-hunts were a big influence to me growing up. My name is Ignace and what you should know about me is that after my father, grandfather and uncle were all executed for being serial killers," Ignace pops a breathmint, "I decided to take the family talent into a positive direction. I thought I was going to be stuck in the factories all my life before someone finally noticed that talent. Now I'm not much in the way of swords such as yourself, ye'honor, but if you need some flies shot off your walls," Ignace quick-draws his laspistol and mock aims, "I can do it, Emperor-willing."
++VI: K++ Kaede chuckles softly, and softly claps twice. "I like your style, Ignace. I'm sure there are many heretical targets much larger than flies that will benefit from a good measure of Imperial Justice sighted through your cross hairs."
++VI: MAGNUS. NO FILES FOUND++ The next man to speak sits at the table at Kaede's left hand. His flesh is almost as worn as his robe, which bears the faded insignia of the Adeptus Astra Telepathica, and he cradles across his knees a long cane made of human femurs. Those sitting close enough can see that his right hand grips the cane clawlike, bereft of a thumb. His left bears a challium ring on his third finger. For his age, the man radiates a surprising strength of spirit, not broken by decades of service in relaying the will of the Emperor across the galaxy. But the man's eyes are his most revealing quality: unlike the eyes of most astropaths, these swerve slowly about the room, overcast but not completely opaque, seeking out the gaze of the other acolytes. "I am Magnus, a psyker until recently in the service of the Astra Telepathica," he begins, his voice high and thin. "In my youth I rode one of the Black Ships to Holy Terra, where the Emperor judged me worthy to serve His holy cause. The Emperor took my sight and bound me to him, giving me the knowledge to serve His will, and when I returned to my homeworld I began my life as an astropath. "For forty years I served the Emperor with loyalty and pride. But in my sixtieth year of life I began to be visited in my dreams by a striking vision. I dreamed of the Emperor's throne on Holy Terra, bathed in radiance, and I was awed and mystified. I would awake from these dreams feeling a great sense of purpose, but to what end I could not say. These visions of the seat of the Emperor's power left me seeking a reason for such a thing--why should I, of all people, see such an image of power and beauty? It was one morning during my sixty-first year of life when I learned that reason. "My vision had returned. "It was a miracle, of that much I was sure. An astropath does not mourn the loss of his sight, but to be returned it lifted my heart and made me strive further in the service of His Holiness. When I was called upon by Inquisitor Kaede to lend my abilities to a team of acolytes and grow my abilities for the betterment of the Imperium, I was ready." Having closed his eyes as he told his story, Magnus now opens them again and gazes around the room with a smile playing about his lips and the ghost of a glimmer in his milky orbs. "It will be my honor and pleasure to execute the will of the Emperor with you."
++NOTE FROM ADEPT HOLLANUS++ Kaede made a reply to Magnus, as the vid-pict shows him speaking, however some sort of interference washed out the sound during the course of his reply. It resumed immediately afterwards.
++VI: KROL. REF: IMPERIAL GUARD. FILES ATTACHED++ There is movement in the corner, and the Guardsman sitting there clears his throat, guttural and thick. Not sitting on the chair, he crouches with feet on the seat of the chair, leaning slightly against the back and braced against the wall to keep from tipping the chair over. Pale as any hive-born from living under an impenetrable canopy of leaves, his long hair forms a stark border where it hangs lankly around his face, nut-brown with odd hints of green. Two brown eyes so dark they are almost black dart intently and swiftly around the room. Though rangy and over six feet tall, he packs little weight on his long frame, and only the corded bunching when he flexes gives a hint to the intense feral strength packed onto his spare frame. His flat features and sparse movements add to the impression of some catlike jungle animal. He wears little, just a loose, open vest and leggings of the rough clothing issued to Inquisition conscripts. The standard-issue flak armor sits next to his chair, neatly piled up and covering a tiny collection of possessions. His entire left arm is covered with scars up to and over his shoulder, irregular patterns and symbols with no obvious meaning, occasionally crossed by a straighter and more unplanned scar of less certain origins. Matching them is a single complex sign carved into his left cheek, covering nearly a quarter of his face with the smooth ribbing of old and well-healed cuts. As he listens to the others, he scratches at the beginnings of a newer scar, scabbed over on the side of his left wrist. It is a pattern of three lines, and by the time the first three acolytes have answered, all three have been peeled back to reveal half-knitted scar tissue underneath. When he speaks, it is in a low, warm grumble devoid of the coarse accent or low-mindedness of many ferals. "The Emperor wanted my record to be more complete before it is offered to him" he growls, indicating his scars. "He caused me to be offered to the Inquisition as tribute, so that my record will show more worthy victories than the predators of Fedrid. There are mighty foes in this Empire, and if my blade or blood can hold them at bay, then I, Krol, am content." He grins wolfishly; when he speaks of his blade, his left hand tightens into a fist unconsciously, the tension forcing blood out through the wound he has just opened. It falls on the floor in black drops, highlighting his final promise.
++VI: K++ Kaede's eyes linger on Krol for a fleeting instant before he nods. "It is good to see that the Emperor's light exceeds even the reach of his Adepts. I have no doubt that your skills will be invaluable to the Inquisition."
++VI: DORN. RECORD ATTACHED.++ A nervous little man dressed in rags sits uneasily in his chair, constantly flexing his hand above his auto pistol. Occasionally one side of his body twitches, seemingly at random. His eyes wide and constantly scanning the room, he looks as if he's never had a decent nights rest. "I guess it'd be my turn", a shudder rakes over his body, "I'm uh... I'm Dorn, and uh I'll be showin' y'all the underhive. I'm sure with all the uh... experience y'all have had, the underhive might seem a piece of cake. But, it can get pretty hairy down there from time to time, so uh... try not to get shot or what have you, and I uh... we might come back in one piece. I've survived long enough down there to become of some use to the uh... Emperor". With that he resumes scanning the room with his restless eyes and starts to grope the handle of his auto pistol.
++VI: K++ "Thank you Dorn! I'm sure your services will indeed cast you more favorably in the Emperor's Light."
++VI: RAVIA. REF: MECHANICUS. FILE CLASSIFIED.++ There is no mistaking the red-robed figure in the room. Beneath the large cowl peers a dark-skinned, grey-eyed feminine face edged by a few visible bits of brown hair. The lower half of her face is covered by a sleek, well-designed respirator unit. From this unit the vox-synthesizer emits a clear, strong voice: “I am Ravia, tech-priest of Mars.” A hand inlaid with black electoo inductors slides a tarnished door key from her spacious red sleeve and rubs it gently. Ravia explains, “I come to you from the planet Ryboth. Since the age of six, I have been taught in the ways of the Adeptus Mechanicus. My studies under my magos have been focused on Imperial weaponry.” The key slips fluidly back into the sleeve from whence it came. “I am willing to provide my knowledge to you all and the Inquisition in any way that I can.” Removing a phial from inside her cowl, Ravia places it on the table deliberately. “These, my colleagues, are the vile juices of a heretical brother tech-priest. We are all here to stop such traitors from their ignoble deeds, including the improper use of Imperial machines.” Ravia’s left eye twitches. Whether this is a hint of a bad memory or a routine mechanical spasm, none can be certain. The phial is taken back into her robes. “No doubt it is clear that my duty is to aid you all in the use of Imperial technology. The Adeptus Mechanicus of Mars, holy servants of the God-Machine, have sent me to assist the Inquisition to the best of my abilities. My desire is to honor the Omnissiah with my work.” She gives a small nod with her hooded head and retreats her hands inside her robes.
++VI: K++ “We are grateful indeed to have an Adept of Mars on this Acolyte team. The skills you wield are a commodity unmatched in the galaxy.” Kaede looks like he is about to go on, when there is a chime from somewhere in his clothing. He rustles in his coat for a moment, and then pulls out a small hand-held vox caster. “Yes?” He asks it, pausing for a moment as a faint garbled reply is returned. “Very well, send him in”. “Well,” Kaede says, looking up at the group whilst pocketing the vox caster “It seems I forgot to mention you will have another comrade, at least for your first assignment. Exactly why he is with you will be more apparent later, but I assure you it is the nature of the investigation rather than any of your backgrounds or histories.” At this point there is a sharp rap at the door, and Kaede calls out “Enter!” He then looks at you and says “May I introduce Constantius Soranus, an esteemed representative of the Ecclesiarchy.”
++VI: C.SORANUS. REF: MINISTORUM. FILES ATTACHED.++ At these words, a man dressed in well-worn Ecclesiarchical robes enters the room. His wrinkled face, balding pate, and slight stoop make an unimpressive figure, but an enormous greataxe strapped to his back belies this initial impression and attests to a substantial reserve of hidden strength. Looking around the room, his glance casually dismissive, he states, "I am Constantius Soranus, a cleric in the Adeptus Ministorum invested with the divine will of the God-Emperor of Mankind. There is no authority except from the Emperor, and whoever so resists the authorities resists the Emperor's will. Those who dissent bring judgment upon themselves." Soranus' eyes glaze over as his arms rise towards the heavens, gesticulating towards some unseen splendour. His faintly quivering fingers fairly vibrate with ecstasy as he shouts, "I am not a terror to good men, but to evil! Would you be unafraid of this authority? Then do what is good, and you will receive my approval, for I am the Emperor’s servant. But if you do evil, be afraid, for I do not bear this axe in vain; I am an avenger to execute His wrath on the evildoer. In His service, I shall render unto the God-Emperor the things that are His, be it the soul of every heretic in the sector!" His fervour temporarily abated, his arms drop heavily to his sides, and Constantius Soranus shuffles to the seat. He sits down and begins to finger an Aquila necklace, muttering softly to himself.
++VI: K++ “It is always good to have a friend from the Ministorum along when hunting heretics!
++NOTE FROM ADEPT HOLLANUS++ While the vid recording within the Tricorn Palace is self-explanatory, there are times throughout the work of the Acolytes that are still documented with pict-vid despite the apparent lack of any nearby recording apparatus. I shall speculate on the agency behind this further on, and continue to provide detailed textual descriptions.