The Fabricated Tales of Alpha Capharius
Season 2
Chapter 1
S.I.M.O.N. that dastardly entity that
lurks in the warp, not content with just one season of The Fabricated Tales
demanded another from the Imperium…
So here is the start of Season
Two!
+++Encrypted Journal Entry+++
Alpha level security enacted+++
Authorisation accepted+++
My subterfuge is working
perfectly, Lord Reximus is all powerful and I am thankful for his patronage,
but he is like all humans coloured by the individuals he keeps court with. While he thought he had fooled me with the
space yacht I was nicely directing resources and materials, including those my
crew spent blood sweat and tears (well maybe none of the latter) in
obtaining. The antiquity of the Imperium
is well known, and while this vessel we are currently on may indeed look brand
spanking new, it is as rotten as the body it serves. As with any body these rotten parts harbor
strata which have allowed me to directly patch to the escape ship aboard the Tear of Lost Dreams. I have the ship and
its dock isolated, my friend ANGUS III (never leave home without multiple
backups) has been installed. Much work
has been undertaken in great secrecy, thanks in many ways to ANGUS Prime of Tears of Lost Dreams and Lord Inquisitor
Theordore Rex III. Yes the master of the
‘Thornes, a rather helpful ally who has done much to run interference around
Reximus. Yet the constant game of
thrones continues within the Inquisition, all one can do is hope you don’t get
killed in the squabble. I of course plan
ahead, where my fellows think only of the day.
+++End Encrypted Journal Entry+++
What was thought to be one weeks
downtime turned into a month of what for me was multitasking boredom. Francine has morphed rather nicely along the
road to humanoid physiognomy; her personality is becoming equivalent to that of
an adolescent. My requests to the
Quarter Master for specific materials to assist us to deal with Daemonic
adversaries have been denied. Access to
knowledge to combat Daemonic adversaries has been denied. My frustration with being able to access any
information or materials is sodding annoying me no end. The only response is in time, well in time is
wonderful if you don’t have [deleted for protect certain parties].
My frustration with the shackles
must be starting to show as I have become rather testy and ornery… okay so not
much difference from the norm. I did
attempt a delicate activation within my Jokaero field generator. However a couple of things happened that,
well, didn’t go as planned. First of I was in a grumpy mood, secondly my vox
relay inconveniently alerted me to the fact that Lady B was returning to the
ship and lastly Horst burst into my workshop shouting he had found the god emperor. This micro distraction was just enough to
allow the tool to slip and depolarize the energy shielding I was particularly
fond of, however it did fully activate the function I desired.
Sigh, bloody Lady B returning,
after everything I had done to try and get rid of the Viper. Honestly I wish her father would make his
mind up as to what he wanted done? One
day he sends me instructions that this is what he wants done, the next
this? I can see clearly where the insanity
in the family line comes from, too much inbreeding.
More perplexing for me was Horst
suddenly finding “religion”. At first I
was a little worried, well not really, as I saw my position being safe no
matter what route he took (or at least I’d ensure I would be). Then I started to look on the bright side as
he babbled about what he should do, I accessed a much disused part of my
database[1]
to see what assistance I could provide, oddly enough not much, like my charm
little existed. I suggested he find a
chapel, considering this was an Inquisitorial ship there was bound to be plenty
about, lots of people with lots to confess about. I of course have no such problems as I have
nothing to confess about, and if something does go wrong, it is always someone
else’s fault.
With not much else to do, I
accompanied Horst to the nearest chapel where he was greeted by the most
skeletally thin priest I had ever met.
Introducing himself simply as Mortimus (this should have alerted me to start with) he listened to Horsts
mumbled vision and confession of faith.
I just sat in a pew a few seats away giving the pair the semblance of
privacy, all the while listening and noting anything that was truly worthy of
note. Both Mortimus and I were amazed
that considering the place and life he had led, he was uncorrupted. The interview concluded: and Mortimus there
and then, on the spot, decided to properly baptize Horst to the god emperor of mankind (all praise his name… yadda yadda). The baptismal font[2]
was wheeled out with the sound of a general chime resounding throughout the
ship, summoning the faithful to bear witness.
Cherubs and the chapel choir sang (horribly)
as Horst was stripped naked (not a
pleasant sight – though I saw some female ratings access their data links),
and was led up the baptismal fonts stairs to the dunking platform by one of the
floating cherubs. Horst stop loud proud
and naked before the congregation (why
was he erect as well, why) and awaited his baptism. Mortimus stood at the base, his hand on the
lever, it was then my attention was drawn to the writing in ancient Mechanicus
“Acid Bath – Servitors Only”.
“Faithful we are here to see the
death of this mortal body before you and the rebirth of Brother Horst.”
Oh damn I thought, is there
really acid in that vat!
“With all tests of faith should
this man be pure of faith he will pass the test. If he is impure he will float, thus proving
he is unworthy, and we all know what happens to those who have been deemed
unworthy in the eyes of the god
emperor!”
The crowd cheered at this
news. Apparently they relished the
chance to inflict who knows what on anyone who did not float. Though having
seen a few mob riots I can hazard a good guess.
However considering most people would never have come across any body of
water larger than a glass of water, the chance to have learnt to swim,
nevertheless float is something as likely as chaos ceasing to exist! Horst though seemed to have a small trickle
of sweat beading down his temple. Don’t tell me he could swim!
“Those who sink to the bottom and
survive the drowning are proven blessed by Him and thus worthy to take up his
mantle and take the message to the heathen, the unenlightened and naughty. Of
course should he perish then he is also deemed unworthy and shall be burned,
once his body dries out. Thus endeth this lesson!”
Mortimus pulled the lever, and
the rest they say is history or conjecture.
What actually happened as a
result of Horsts baptism is of much debate.
The pundit circuit makes a lot of money out this and likes to keep it
that way. As the sole manager of Horsts
evangelical endeavors (he doesn’t like to get his hands dirty with mundane
matters, they might corrupt him) and empire I’m keen to see it remains so. It allows me to spread the technology mankind
needs to continue to grow, a wonderful front and all thanks to a spontaneous
touch of religion.
According to the “canon” Saint
Horst[3]
was visited by a winged angel as he was drowning and near death. This is
revealed as Saint Anastasia and is recorded in the Librarius Divinitus. She speaks of “Sphonfor” or “Siphon 4” or
“Siphon Phor”. As usual, visitations are
highly irregular and prone to whatever interpretation you wish to put on them. I will more than likely interpret this bit of
nonsense to best ensure my interests, but more importantly my survival.
During the tedious boredom of
fixing other peoples mistakes[4],
I discovered we had picked up another vagabond from the planet of blue skinned
people eaters. I really must dabble in
bioengineering and develop that nano concoction that will change their skin
colour to proper flesh “pink” or “white”. He introduces himself as Xerxes of New
Memphis, alright he seems decent enough so far. Nothing flashy or unsettling as
Lady B or Elsie, I’ll see what time brings.
Eventually all periods of tedium come
to an end and my latest experiment to get two black holes to open in a single
continuum failed, but this time by only point zero one of a point. I’m getting there, won’t everyone be
surprised when I get this to happen here on this very ship! Where was I, right… one of those dreary
‘Thornes turned up, they think they can confuse me by hiding their appearances
by subterfuge. Silly sods, they are
dealing with a master when it comes to hiding the truth, that and it comes down
to the simple vanity of perfume. Each
has the scent of a particular rose they choose to associate with. It amazes me how idiotic humans can be with
going to all the effort to hide who they are - only to allow such a simple
element (bahahahaha) or should I say essence betray them.
“You are to attend a grand
function at the request of Lord Percival and High Lord Inquisitor Theordore Rex
III. Dress accordingly,others will be
attendance.”
With those words and her annoying
smile she left my quarters alive and unharmed.
I heard that multiple attempts were made to Elsie quarters but no one
could find him. Indeed the rumor is that
his quarters are rumored to be haunted by his ghost. Any who enter find that themselves felt all
over, many have referred to as much like a first date with an octopus, hands
everywhere, sweaty and sticky. The end result is always the same, the
individual leaves the room befuddle, emotionally drained, spiritually defiled
and with most of their possession missing – especially their money.
“Francine we are off to a
ball! Time for a costume change!”
“What’s a costume my love?”
And so began a very interesting
couple of hours that involved lots of questions, lots of slaps and me having to
be firm and saying NO often, very very often.
I personally have found red to be a very boring and dull colour. Okay it
may be an excellent colour to disguise the fact you have been shot, it may perhaps
save on laundry bills and any other sundry reasons but for me I like white. It reflects my chosen direction and purpose,
like the light that shines from the stars.
White is purposeful and handy. It
can be remade into the winning sides colours, fashioned into a handy flag of
parlay or if desperate - surrender, but the most important reason why it is
perfect is because the good guys always wear white!
I spent a productive time
colouring my painting my armour the white and ivory with just a chase of
green. Francine decided to adopt similar
fashion and after searching the extensive database found an old earth Victorian
era dress that hid her mechanical nature.
The prudish nature of the time period has given Francine some entertain
and she has found a desire to punish and whip people now. I fear she may have delved too deeply into
the database and found the perversion part of Victorian Britain. I think Preacher may have found someone to
assist him in interrogations in the future, with my permission of course.
With our fancy attire set
Francine and I made our way to the “approved” rendezvous point. Horst was already waiting for us, and he was
dressed in his best suit – his work clothes, armour and all, prepared for every
occasion. Xerxes was next, wearing a
white mini-dress and enough mascara and make up to make me think I was wrong
about him, very wrong indeed? Lady B
arrived wearing the feathered carcass of some foul smelling beast she thought
was the height if high fashion. Elsie
walked in last, but no one seemed to have noticed him amongst the general
ratings. They kept calling over the vox
caster for him and asking him to come to the designated area. Elsie just stood quietly, apparently enjoying
the unsettlingly affairs he was creating. Eventually one of the ‘Thornes
entered the area; glared at Elsie and shepherded everyone to the lift and on towards
the grand chamber.
For “grand” chambers it was
opulent towards to end of garish. It is
one of those problems when people have too much power and wealth. How do you display that, well you make it as
obvious as possible by decking out every surface with precious metals, gems and
the most baroque style as is in trend at the style it was commissioned. I dated this work at least three hundred
years old if my database is correct, not that art is one of those directories I
always refresh when I get the time. That
being said I really need to do something about increasing my librarium to
increase its knowledge base.
We were ushered into the chamber
after being searched and stripped of any weaponry; the massive dining table
that took five minutes to walk the length of.
I noted the faces of those in attendances, such worthies as Captain
Kresh Onone of the Doubt Not, known
to always survive any fleet engagement no matter the odds[5]. Justicar Eirta Thane from the Ultramar Sector,
known for failing to deliver the verdict desired to the Inquisition on no less
than five hundred occasions. His seat
was one of the first I passed on the journey to table head (yes it felt as if
that was where all the crap was associated). Yes the people I found most
interesting were here at the base of the table while those less deserving
basked in the glory of their own self importance.
We were directed to our
seats. I saw Reximus at the head with
his concubine assassin hovering behind him, on his left was seated Lord
Inquisitor Theordore Rex III. I was placed[6]
at the right hand seat of Reximus, with Francine standing behind (they would
not give a machine a seat, headless of my demands for one), then came Horst,
Lady B and empty chair and Xerxes. It
would appear that no one could sense the presence of Elsie, he was ignored for
the entire session. While he did go hungry, much of silverware and valuables did
vanish.
Reximus eventually chimed his crystal
glass and brought order to the chaos that was many voices of a general
assembly.
“We are here to celebrate the
victories that have been made and especially to recognize the team that has
been responsible in making this possible.
Rather than me bore you with the details, let me introduce you to the
leader of the team that successfully brought me out of stasis and returned the Vale of Tears to the Imperium. Alpha
Capharius, please.”
I was pleased with the attention
but also wary, something was not right.
There was something in play happening amongst power brokers at the table
and I will have to be careful. That
being said I stood up to a round of polite if not earnest applause. I decided to give them the full details of my
adventures, all twelve hours of it, every detail (sanitized of course), in
machine code. This I calculated would
take five seconds, be very incomfortable to people with high setting audio
bionic (with poor filtration settings) but would satisfy my peculiar sense of
humour.
“My Lord Reximus, my fellow
dignitaries. Here is my recount in all its glory [binary output]. Thank you for
your patience and allowing me to speak on this occasion.”
A number of things happened that
I noticed. A vast number of Mechanicus
rose from their seats and applauded, many of the just sat their dumbfounded
over what had just happened, and a few – just a few were bleeding from the
ears. My job was done; I felt satisfied
and took my seat.
Reximus stood, looked at me with
a bemused look on his face and spoke to his audience.
“Well I fear I have never before
been treated to so short or so long a speech at any such function I have ever
attended. I think though I will fill the
gaps in for the less gifted and explain why I have called everyone here.”
It seems I am not the only one
who can offend a crowd with my words, as several members at the table stiffened
at Reximus’s words. For the next several
hours Reximus waffled on about what happened, what his goals were, what he
wanted to happen, what? He wanted us,
that is me, ME to go down to that dreadful primitive planet and find a
library. Oh no, no no no no no, did I
say no enough.
After hearing that news the rest
of the “festive” dinner went by in a blur.
Francine spent the time in guardian mode as I was diverting my time
analyzing the situation and sending requests to my sources.
+++Access mainframe+++
+++Where is LUTHOR?
+++LUTHOR has been secured, you have been denied
access.
+++On who’s authority?
+++Restricted Information, you do not have security
clearance.
+++Materials secured from Vale of Tear, where are
they.
+++Secured holding.
+++Access items on list Alpha 12 and transfer to my
chambers.
+++Transfer rejected. Items restricted.
+++Are any items brought back from Vale of Tear available?
+++Negative. Naval security has raided quarters and
taken items.
+++Close link.
Well I am not a happy person. I
can clearly not longer trust anyone at any level. Clearly the Inquisition does not think that
allowing its operatives to be able to operate effectively is not in its best
interest. It is with a sinking feeling
in my heart (if I had one) that I return to my vandalized chambers the sulk.
After some period of time our group
of pressganged Interrogators is assembled and we make our way to our landing
vessel.
Initially we were going to have a
space yacht but S.I.M.O.N. became paranoid by all the scheming that was being
asked that my initial ship was replaced by a scummy lander with no warp
capability. Rebillion is brewing!
Lady B finds herself reacquainted
with Gordon Flash the pilot who brought her up from the planet. We again go through the turbulence of
atmospheric turbulence and that interfering warp entity S.I.M.O.N seems to
think that my body is some play thing. Sadly
it is misinformed and my internals remain the way they are, mechanical optimal
and enhanced as was optimized to provide pervious enhancements. In time we reach the “capital” and are
greeted by the “royals”. Inbreeding, it
shows in every generation and it shows the longer the line continues. Apparently the line of Le Roche is a very
very long line of inbred hillbillies. I
must though look the part of a conquering lord and act nice to the natives;
I’ll try not to offend too many of them.
We walk down a moth eaten carpet
that passes for a “red” carpet though it appears to be a colour I’m not too
sure to put a word to yet. I’m not even sure it’s on the colour wheel to be
honest. Lady B introduces us each in
turn to the “king” Le Roche, who does his best at hiding his displease at seeing
me. I’m sure this is just a play for the
palace intrigue, damn this family is as unstable as Borgias – and most likely
as deadly as now that I am down here on their planet. Why did we have to come here, why!
Why you ask? Well because of a
dark library and because the author of the book which Reximus has is still
alive. Yes alive (alive, alive,
alive...) and on this planet for thousands of years. Not hidden on the ship Vale of Tears in stasis which would be
an obvious option. Of course the author
could be in stasis on this planet within this dark library but who knows? So
I’m stuck on this primitive planet of mutants, looking for a stasis box with
someone in it, or a daemon possessed gobshiet, and this dark library which I’m
not allowed to burn down (though accidents do happen – cough ’thorn’). By the
way did anyone actually ask the name of the author of the book? Oh great so we are on a search for the
unnamed author of a book we don’t know the name of as well! Good going people!
It was time to getting back to
being glared at by the “king”. Off to
any “feast”. Lady B is showing off,
waffling on about whether some nameless nobody is still around etcetera
etcetera, honestly the amount of food she shovels done it’s a wonder she hasn’t
reached the whale like proportions of her gargantuan mother. Did I mention “queen” Le Roche; actually I
won’t as I don’t want to ruin anyone’s appetite. We are “royally” invited to
another feast, clearly this must be an hourly event gauging from the “queens”
physique. I must offer her a wafer and
several buckets during the course of dining, though I have a feeling that that
is part of the dining experience. As we
crawl off at a snail’s pace, I’d say waddle, but only the “queen” was doing
that, I viewed out “quaint” surroundings.
I’d say high medieval, though
clearly lots of façade in place to facilitate the ease of replacements. It appears that “it’s just a cardboard
cutout” is not just an apt saying around here.
Everything is modular, easing replaced if something has been destroyed
for some reason, and I’m guessing the warp incursions or as these primitives
define it dragonkin invasions. Though primitive the capital shows signs of
decent sanitation and plumbing (no communal water pumps). So it would appear that not all levels of
technology was sacrificed, just some.
The “feast” was lively and
barbaric. Lady B and the other enjoyed
themselves. I refused all offers of
food; I did not require any sustenance.
This also saved me from any attempts of poisoning on behalf of my
hosts. Boredom drove me to looking at
the carvings on the wall, and to my utter astonishment I found that they were
etched in Jokaero glyphs. I committed
these to my memory engrams for latter translations and study. It was at this time I was rudely interrupted
by “king” Le Roche.
“I see you are interested in our
castles fine etchings Alpharius?”
I replied that I was and we continued
our conversation for a period before it dawned on me that firstly he was still
seated at the main table some distance away and secondly he was in my mind.
Damn it, how many bastards can enter my mind without my permission. How he managed to breach the Jokaero field is
even more perplexing, I guessing it may have something to do with the etchings
around the hall. I’ll know more when I
find the time to decipher the material. At this stage the old man is either a
psyker or mechanicus enhanced individual.
I’m leaning towards the first as the only viable option.
“I have a Museum of sorts which
contains many artifacts from the time of founding. One of the artifacts is the last surviving
Metal Man that assisted in the construction of the castle and performed much of
the etchings… or so the records indicate – and I have little to say
otherwise. Would you like to see
it? It is located in the lowest level of
the castle, not visited by any but those who have business there. Remote, quiet – honestly you could scream for
hours and no one could hear you.”
Hmmm, I was rather concerned
about the sanity of the “king”. Was he
tempting me with bait? Hey gullible fool, come check out this cool stuff that
you are clearly interested in. It’s in a
gloomy unvisited part of the castle.
What it sounds like the dungeon.
Nooooo, would I really be taking you to the dungeon AND tell you no one
could hear your screams BEFORE I took you. Really! Really?
In the end it took the convincing
of Lady B (the hostage) and the others to accompany me that I went to
investigate. Sadly Xerxes had hit the
cups and was deep into hitting the dance floor and showing up the locals with
his moves. He introduced them to the
“walk like an Egyptian” dance move, while shouting it was the entire rave in
New Memphis. My last view was of him
doing something hideous with his hips in front “queen” Le Roche and seeing a
wicked tongue dart out and lick her lips.
My last thought as I left the poor sod was “Elvis”, yes that would be an
excellent name for the new recruit.
The summoned servant who took us
to the “Chamber of Secrets” as I now dubbed this “Museum” was the elderly
Jeeves, he may have had another name but for all intents and purposes Jeeves
was what he looked and sounded like. He
was elderly, shuffled along; his slippered feet showed that he didn’t get out
and about much. His enthusiasm though was excellent, so happy was he to go to
the vault. It took us an hour to get
there. Francine offered to carry the old
bugger, but he refused the offer, saying that his pride as warden would not see
his duty usurped by this giant maiden.
At mention of maiden, Francine went all atwitter and hung even tighter
to me, just as well I only need to drawn breath every hour now or I’d have been
dead ere we reached the vault door.
This section of the castle was
markedly different in structure and reflected more the construction of that of
a starship. It makes me think that
container sections that would have been dropped as initial living sections for
colonists had been incorporated into the very fabric of the castle. Old Jeeves produced his icon of office and
inserted into a section of the vault door.
There was a series of clicks, the sound of pressure seals depressurizing
and a hum and the door opened. Inside
was what could only kindly be called a hoarder trove. At some time an attempt had been made to keep
order and dust from the collections, but I’d say that time and the age of
Jeeves had allowed things to go to pot.
Jeeves took me to the Metal Man
which according to my database recorded the form as a Jokaero artisan servitor.
The workmanship and detail was exquisite and without equal in this day and age. Jeeves lamented about the state of the
collection, admitting that he did have assistance of two maintenance and
cleaning servitors but they had long ago ceased working. I offered to have a
look at them, he seemed skeptical, but accepted the offer. I checked them over and found they needed
simple repairs and after a quick recharge were off and about their programmed
affairs. Jeeves seemed ambivalent about
this state of affairs.
You may ask what was the rest of
the band of malcontents up to? What else
does a band of professionally looters do when confronted with a museum full of
lost and old item… they see what they can pilfer without being caught.
Firstly a crypt is found with the
depiction of a man wearing the armour which Horst is wearing and which we know
is Reximus’s spare suit. This leads us to start questioning a lot of what we
have been taking as known “truth”.
Jeeves tells us that the man inside the crypt belongs to the first
Knight who slew the dragonkin skull which hangs in the museum. Curiosity gets the best of Horst and he opens
the crypt, upsetting Jeeves to the point of cardiac arrest. All that is found
inside is a sword. There is no body, no
suit of armour. The sword glows in the
presence of Horst as he picks up the weapon.
Jeeves gasps as this is done.
“Only a true believe can wield
this sword. The sword has chosen you.”
With that he shuffles off with
the intent to tell his masters of what has transpired. No one seems interested in stopping him. Elsie, not content that there is nothing else
in the crypt searches and finds a hidden compartment containing a box we are oh
so familiar with. In the case of this box it contained a truesilver key with a
rose symbol palm base.
Secondly Horst continued to
search through the museum and found a beautifully crafted gun. Horst found a gun that seemed to call to
him. This was a bad omen, a very bad
omen. Horst looked up his catalogue and
could find no reference, I could only find an initial reference as gun type
26. Not waiting for me to finish my
research Horst took up the gun and paid the penalty for his curiosity. Sentience in some items is both a blessing
and a curse, it is especially a curse if it is bonded to you and you cannot
control it. The machine spirit known as Eliza dominated Horst. At first Horst did not know what was
happening, the gun appeared to be glued to his gauntlets, no amount of effort
or willpower would holster or drop the weapon.
Horst tried to understand the guns mechanics so he/it targeted and shot
me – thankfully with a stun round. Francine
though was no having any of this and grabbed the barrel of the gun and made
contact with the machine spirit of the gun Eliza. A very firm and direct threat was made and in
the process the barrel was squeezed causing significant neural feedback that
Horst joined me in the land of nod.
Being unconscious is not good,
especially when you have members in your group that are not to be trusted and
do not have your best interests at heart.
Lady B while not at the top of the list, is moderate in her action,
Elsie though is malicious and spiteful.
I woke some hours later in a comfortable bed being watched over by
Francine. It some a while to coax exact
details of what happened while I was unconscious from her, but what I learnt I
was not happy about and I guess not surprised.
While I was unconscious Elsie
decided to loot my body of every item not deemed essential to me needs. When Francine questioned his motives, Elsie
countered that he did not need these as she was all the protection he
needed. These items were superfluous to
his needs. Francine agreed with this
argument, she was his only requirement; he did not need any other items. Based
on this and the fact she seemed to like Elsie she let him take my items.
This situation could not go
on. I directly interfaced with Francine,
I needed to correct and modify the machine spirit and ensure that this was not
to continue.
+++Open Spirit File Francine+++
+++Access Approved.
+++Welcome my love.
+++Thank you Francine, I need to access you primary protocols, do I
have permission to do so.
+++Of course my love, I trust you implicitly.
+++Code Alpha Alpha One Command Zeta Accept
+++Code accepted my love.
+++What is your primary directive?
+++To protect Alpha Capharius and any who he designates within given
parameters.
+++Do you accept orders from any other?
+++No my love. I only accept an order where you are incapacitated and
that order does not inconvenience, do harm or lead to your death.
+++Will you follow my directions?
+++Yes my love, though I would like some free will.
+++Our like will clearly indicate when free will is an option. When I give a direct order though, can you
follow it without question?
+++Yes my love I will.
+++Thank you Francine. I need you as a partner, not a slave and while
these parameters have been set in place, they are here to stop the interference
of those who intend harm to me. I hope
that you can understand this. Can you?
+++I do not know. But if they mean harm to you then the answer is yes.
+++ Seal Spirit File Francine+++
Francine and I continued our
conversation to which I caught up on other affairs. Horst also was stripped of his items, Elsie
again was the culprit. In this case the
sword of the first Knight was taken from him and Elsie has ridden of with it. The “king” and “queen” came down to the vault
and saw what had transpired. The “queen” had directed her daughter to some
proscribed books which she grabbed and took off with great haste. Jeeves complained bitterly about the state of
affairs and how he had less to complain about now. Lady B’s first thoughts on getting up out of
the vault was to get to her private place, only to realize that the present
castle was not her real home. It was
three days journey by fast steed, all hyped up she forgot she had access to
Imperial transport and took a cow instead.
Elsie, realizing that he couldn’t run that fast, stole the nearest
bovine and created the legend of bovine ghost rider. Silly I know, but these are a stupid and
superstitious people.
Horst and I awoke in due course,
commandeered the lander and arrived at their destination well ahead of the
others. We decided that it would do them
decent penance to ride rough as punishment.
The Le Roche estate was fast being turned into an Imperial bastion of
military might. The fortress and gun
towers were being placed with typical imperial efficiency. The local were being
press ganged into work gangs and things were going down as smooth as castor
oil. Horst decided to try his hand at
preaching to the masses, I helped him with the vox. We were lucky to have escaped the lynching as
Horst attempted to explain to the locals the divinity of the god emperor. The next day things improved as Horst tried a
different tack that mollified the natives and they forgave whatever
transgression he had made. Then the
circus rode into town.
Lady B rode in on her exhausted bovine,
her finery bedraggled and certainly unbefitting a “princess”. She was so mono-focused on getting to this
place that she forgot so many things, toiletries, change of clothes – the niceties
that civilized people are accustomed to.
I noticed as she dismounted that she walked with a decided wince and I
almost shouted “how are they hanging” when I remembered just where I was and who
were surrounding me. I’m just not ready
to beat down a whole planet… yet – give me time. So Lady B’s operation appears to have taken,
I guess daddy dearest got the boy he wanted in the end. I wonder what pronoun I should use in future. Shim sounds and entertaining and it reminds
me of an antiquated earth cartoon of three power girl child’s adversary. Yes, a shim it will be, the comedy to lighten
the day when blackness fills our (well everyone else’s) hearts. So what is the first thing the glutton asks
for when she dismounts – food. Yep daughter
like mother, straight to the food trough – would you like a wafer and bucket
with that Lady B? Moments later the
guards are shouting in alarm at a rider less mount galloping into the area. I see that Elsie is on the cow, but not many
else do. I think perhaps one or two
among the guards spot and point him out, but the other guards discount them as
seeing things.
Lady B settles in, which means
she locks herself in her private place.
Elsie follows her, so he alone now knows where the private place
is. The only time that day we see her is
when dinner is served and the glutton gorges herself senseless on what she
claims is the planets greatest cuisines!
I’m sorry but carrion flesh marinated in pits for twelve days and served
up with a “tulip” sauce is not high cuisine.
Thankfully my conversion matter cell does not need any fuel so I shall
not be partaking of this particular piece of offal.
While sitting here and trying not
to cybernetically “barf” I consider the fifth wheel, our spare to speak –
Elvis. This mascara worshiping
individual (I’m thinking that all the mutants from this planet are not exactly
well… straight) from New Memphis has shown himself to be an odd
individual. Firstly he demonstrated to
the local troops his fighting style (which I did not see) and broke his
weapon. He brought me his broken and
bent sword, asking if I could repair it. No problem I replied. When I returned it to him, he cried. I asked why? He said it was straight! Sigh, this is what I have to work with, they
even want bent swords! Nevertheless it
would appear that he had a dalliance with the “queen”, at this my mind
shuddered and I commended his soul to whatever god would take it. Something transpired which will be revealed
in due course. At this stage I see him
as the perfect subterfuge as I have the perfect subject for my line of “look
Elvis” when I make my attempt at something tricky.
At some point in time (the
continuum was breaking down at this point) the castle alarms were ringing. People were running everywhere screaming
about dragonkin. I then recalled that dragonkin referred to daemons and this
was the alarm signaling the prelude to a daemonic incursion. My first instinct was to make for the lander
and get off planet to the safety of the ship.
Problem is by the time I made my way through the labyrinthine layout of
the castle the route to safety was blocked.
The rest of the group was been “herded” to my location and we had been “invited”
to defend the castle and its citizens from the incoming storm.
I looked out into the sky and saw
the stars, clear as if I was in space.
Then the broiling matter that is the stuff of the empyrium burst forth,
bolts of lightning issued forth and struck the surface, where each bolt struck
a daemonic entity or its corrupted ally burst forth into our reality. In the case of several bolts merging together
a more powerful entity was propelled into reality. As I looked on aghast, wishing I had more
than a simple axe and pistol, a massive sheet of lightning fell to the surface
and what it revealed was horrifying beyond measure. It was a greater daemon of the lord of
corruption and decay, known as Nurgle.
Just as well I no longer had bowels or I may very well have passed a
motion in perceived terror.
I looked around taking stock of
what was available to defend the castle, oh sod the castle, what was there to
defend me with. I then noticed that
Elsie was not amongst us lined up in the courtyard preparing to fight the
onrushing mutants and daemonic spawn.
Where the hell was that little toad hiding…
Horst was starting to find the
word of the god emperor
and was shouting his newly found faith at the many creatures before us. Horsts divinity flowed out of his words and
into Lady B who empowered roasted so many of the lesser daemonic underlings
that the guards let out a roar of praise.
I then tapped my audio receptors and broadcasters into Horsts
invocations and broadcast them to all to hear.
The effect was spectacular, the guards had never heard such fiery
passion and zeal about a concept which they had never before considered. The powerful light of the god emperor that shot forth
(Eliza) from Preacher[7]
hit the greater daemon which bellowed in pain.
Francine disregarded a direct order given, which confirmed my suspicions
that the warp was involved again. I will
have words with her after this battle is done.
The greater daemon surged through
the castle gates as though they little more than a cardboard cutout and
revealed itself in its entire putrid “magnificence”. Thankfully none of us went mad (I think the warp was taking a holiday)
and we went into full battle mode. I
located Elsie and finally concluded that his status of a null was correct. He was doggedly wading through the filth
coated wake of the daemon and preparing for a strike of deadly effectiveness –
one would hope. The Daemon let loose a
foul vomit of putrescence that vaporized on contact with the Jokaero
field. Regrettably several guardsmen
were outside the sphere and they burst into chaos spawn before our eyes. Preacher sensing that the daemon was the
greater (haha) threat released the last of his energy at the entity, inflicting
yet another powerful wound to the being.
It screams of anguish were hideous, and it was with the sound that
Preacher collapsed to the ground spend from this exertions. Things were indeed grim, Francine was finally
listening to my directives and rushed to protect Preacher as did I. Lady B and Elsie concentrated on taking down
the greater daemon. Elvis? Well Elvis decided “a little less
conversavtion” was in order and revealed himself a psyker. A psyker who chose
to use his powers and courted the very stuff with which we were fighting. Of course it all went wrong. No one blew up but I was so preoccupied on
saving Preacher I didn’t notice what exactly went down. In the end Lady B made the kill shot with the
repeated sounds of Preachers voice of exultation ringing in the air. It was over, we had survived. Yet a passing message had been delivered in
the final moments by the daemon. I was its target; I have been and am being
sought out by the warp! What the hell
have I done to deserve this amount of attention?
In the aftermath I sat down with
Francine in our assigned quarters and had another quiet session with her.
+++Open Spirit File Francine+++
+++Access Approved.
+++Welcome my love.
+++Thank you Francine, I need to access your primary protocols, do I
have permission to do so.
+++Of course my love, I trust you implicitly.
+++We need to discuss today’s actions.
+++Did I disappoint you my love?
+++Yes and no. Yes you disappointed
me by not following my explicit order and charging off into battle. And no you
performed exceptionally well, you were without fault. I find you a perfect partner.
+++Then how have I disappointed you with charging into battle. I am a combat model artifact.
+++Francine, you need to realize that I am unique amongst the others
in our band of misfits. They have
abilities, skills, equipment I cannot hope to achieve. I also do not want those
things; they are not what define me. I am weak compared to them. You are an
extension of me, you are my combat mode.
Think of it as the old earth game where I am the gamer and you are the
online game avatar. Do you understand
this concept?
+++Yes my love, I do. I see
that while I am your protector I am also your avatar. I do not like the word tool, as that would
make me a slave, and we do not share that bond. Do we my love?
+++No Francine, we do not. We
are symbioses, we respect the other. Yet you understand that you are the created
and I am one of the creator classes. We
are different, yet alike. You are
seeking more than your original programming, where I am seeking symmetry between
man and machine – with neither to dominate of the other.
+++My love I am sorry that I have disappointed you in battle today.
Will you forgive me?
+++I always forgive Francine. Look
at this as a learning experience and try not to repeat the mistake again.
+++Yes my love, but this warp that you speak of. It seems to have a
mind contrary to ours.
+++We shall see Francine, we shall see.
+++ Seal Spirit File Francine+++
The next exciting installment…
find the dark library!
Inventory Session 1
Artifact gun (Eliza)
Sword of the first knight
Unknown quantity of proscribed
books
Truesilver Key (rose symbol) in
wooden box
[1]
that filing cache that houses my charm
[2] massive
vessel at least 3 meters tall and 2 meters diameter
[3] Saint
Horst is one of his many titles; he picks them up like a dog does fleas.
[4]
Yes I don’t make any mistakes remember it is always the fault of others that
I’m unable to achieve to my pinnacle of my greatness.
[5] This fact alone was reason enough to
flag him in my records. Survival is a
high priority, I shall need a captain such as he to master my capital ship in
time.
[6] Imperial records will show for
propaganda reasons the seating as Lady B, Alpha Capharius, Horst, Elsie, and
Xerxes. This was recorded to ensure
“good will” with the primitives of the planet about to be absorbed into the
Imperium.
[7] It was at this moment Horst was to
be known as Preacher for this aspect of his life at least.
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