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Welcome, Inquisitor [REDACTED]
++Inquisitorial records from the archives of [REDACTED] of the Ordo Xenos:
SECURITY CLEARANCE LEVEL AMBER DELTA-RHO, CLASSIFICATION THIRTEEN. FOR INQUISITORIAL REPRESENTATIVE'S EYES ONLY, UPON ASSUMPTION OF THEIR SACRED ROLE.++
From: Acolyte Kulem Killian Scholastica Psykana
Astropathic duct: Bastion psykanna duct 73 (Distinction: Adrian Hughs)
Received: 6 150 857M37
Priority: URGENT
Subject: Cassus: Investigative Report
++Topic: Xenos Horrificus Identification/Infestation, Revelation of the Archenemy++
++Attached Document: [1] Xenos Horrificus Ternati, [2]Journal of Kulem Killian, Scholastica Psykana
I regret to inform you that Cassus and perhaps this entire system may be in mortal danger. We are besieged by xenos, traitors, and the powers of Chaos. We are wounded, running short on supplies, and have been forced to reveal ourselves as agents of the Inquisition. The following dictates the events since my last transmission:
I’m reporting from med bay of the Cera Alarum. It’s not that different from the last medbay I was in, thanks to the attentions of Bure.
I have been much too focused on my disturbing transformation into a Xenos mutant abomination. It made me blind to the greater evil lurking behind the seeming peace of this planet. I shall face whatever high doom the Emperor sees fit for me and my monstrous heretical form when it comes, but until then I must face the coming darkness with the strength my remaining humanity can grant me.
Within the few short months I spent being picked at by the cogboys, the Western continent belched forth its terrible secret. Whatever damage we caused to the mysterious Ternati (species identified by Kulem Killian and Hamar Lock) Xenotech within their ancient ruin loosened its hold upon the insectoid species. The larger forms began secreting a thick slime that allowed them to wriggle over the oceans towards the Hive.
I was permitted to travel in the open with my comrades unrestrained, save for a crude anti-psi device anchored to my skull. Their fear of Wytches is well founded, but my Psykana training cannot so easily be taken from me as my flesh.
While preparing to retake and restore the Ziggurat, we made contact with an Imperial Navy Captain by the name of Flynt; the Xenoarchaeologist’s brother. Happy to find out his sibling was alive, Flynt offered the services of himself and his fleet, though he was aware of our colorful history with the Hive Nobility.
Although who isn’t at this point?
Bure and Gayle were given their own mission; some other high-ranking cogboy set out with a squad to get ahold of the Xenotech. Poor bastards have no idea what they’re in for. We’ve written them all off as dead, but the cogboys have a hard on for the shiny bits and weapons.
My navigation and cartography of the Western continent allowed the airships to find the Ziggurat fairly easily, but we required their heavy firepower to clear a landing zone. The ground was writhing with…me. Everywhere you looked there were carapace creatures scuttling over terrain as the ropy, muscle-like ones banded together to stretch towards our craft.
The second we were inside of the Ziggurat I felt…wrong. The entire ruin’s psychic network was screaming in my brain, and I could feel the presence of the Archenemy radiating from the basement lab, stronger than before. Whatever was keeping the insects out of the building before was gone; they were nesting in the walls, dropping our soldiers by half before we made it down the stairs. We found the remains of the Cogboy’s party. Everything but the shiny parts had been eaten and replaced, but they little monsters were lugging them around clumsily, unable to properly grip the metal. Didn’t stop a few of them from taking a few lasgun shots at us, which I truly hope was a misfire. If the Queens of these creatures are intelligent enough to use weaponry, I don’t relish the thought of what happens when someone inevitably fails to contain them.
Bure and his soldiers were…phenomenal. Even on Thrax, there were few warriors who would, much less could wade into that fray with a melee weapon and walk out naked, grinning, and laughing their ass off. I imagine the metal helps, but that’s still something that’ll stick with me for a while.
The basement lab was much worse than we could have imagined. Though not visible to the naked eye, my psykic senses could detect the Warp everywhere. The walls between the Materium and Immaterium were weakening, and already there were half-ghosts of what lay Beyond crawling in the shadows.
Using the same technique that I had previously to turn on the ruin’s lights, I interfaced with a xenos cogitator. It was…magnificent. Geometry and color beyond the scope of human sense; archives and databases as expansive as space itself; weapons, designs, documentation, staff profiles, I COULD SEE IT ALL. I knew EVERYTHING, and I wanted to know more.
Upon later discussion with Hamar, who helped me organize the foreign thoughts into something Human and understandable, we discovered that the species who built these ruins are the very same as the ones who I now call my flesh. This report includes a full diagnostic of what I know.
After interfacing with the cogitator, I…knew how the ruin’s psykic machinery was repressing the Ternati insect forms, and that this incursion of the Warp was a remnant of what had damned their species to fall from higher consciousness. However, as the Veil continued to weaken, my own bugs began to shrivel and die. My comrades were differently affected as the whispers of what lies Beyond infected their minds, causing them to see each other as enemies instead of allies. I couldn’t do much to help them, but by the grace of the Ancestors and the Emperor, they managed to snap out of it on their own. I gave them instructions on what they needed to do to fix whatever Iccarus broke last time he was there.
At this point the Warp Incursion became a small Tear, and was threatening to become a full-blown RIFT. Body parts were dropping off of me in droves, the raw stuff of the Warp began to pour into the room, and something…horrible came with it. I have seen and fought the twisted, reality-defying forms of the old machines, and this monstrosity could have been their twin; cloaked in flesh and smoke instead of rusting metal. I’m ashamed to admit I balked. This was the nightmare from every “bedtime story” told to me on the Black Ships; that which dragged families and friends of psykers into the Warp before feeding on them or possessing their bodies.
Flynt, to his credit, remained firm. After an inspiring speech, he drew a knife and charged it. This should have been suicide. He tore the damn thing’s…head? Clean off. One normal human man with naught but a piece of metal decapitated the fiend in one swing. TWICE in that day I had seen acts of incredible courage with complete disregard for their own safety. Whether they considered the possible ramifications of their actions, I don’t know. I asked them later and they said that “their faith in the God Emperor/Omnissiah left no room for doubt.”
I have been lax in my courage. I have faltered in the face of my enemy. I have allowed myself to become corrupted by them.
No more. If these men can selflessly risk their own skin in service to the Imperium, then I can risk the hide of some filthy Xenos.
I was able to direct the energy from the Warp rift through the psykically resonant materials in the ruins, and the entire place hummed to life; scouring away the shadows and lesser Warp entities. The tear shrank until I almost couldn’t feel it anymore. As long as we can keep Iccarus away from the Xenotech, it will likely continue to feed on it until it’s fully stablized. I have no idea how long it’s going to take, but it felt like it had enough juice to go for a while.
Unfortunately, at this point, I passed out. From what Bure and Gayle tell me, all insects not functioning as vital organs had either died or fled, and the ones that were left were strongly considering it. Neither of them will tell me how they kept me alive long enough to get back to the drop ship, but Bure got a hard glint in his metal eyes whenever I brought it up.
Note: Something’s weird about Iccarus. He hasn’t been the same since the incident. His arrogance and narcissism have always been a right pain in my ass, but now he keeps referring to our shared resources as “his.” If this is how he reacts to almost dying, this job is going to make everyone want to kill him.
I apologize in advance for the rest of the report; I needed to spend a good portion of the next week in a life support tube, so my knowledge of events is somewhat spotty. Iccarus or Gayle will know more.
Or you could ask Buckles. Not sure when “she” showed up. Creepy little thing started following us around sometime after I got back, but the whole crew’s taken a shine to her. She’s apparently been recording everything we do ever since. This is troublesome for me, given that my disguises will occasionally lapse, but apparently it’s also gotten us out of some sticky situations.
From what I heard after waking up in the tube, we’d been accused of high treason by none other than Lord Tegrin. I knew I should have shot him before I blasted him out the window. No idea how he survived that fall, but he had managed to convince the rest of the Lords that we were corrupt liars working to bring the Hive to its knees. The ship was taken into custody above the planet and everyone but myself (who was hidden away in the lab; thank the Emperor and the Ancestors nobody got curious) and Gayle, who claimed that he needed to stay plugged into the ship in order to keep it in the air.
My understanding of what happened on Cassus was that Iccarus boldly demanded a trial by combat. I knew this place wasn’t as civilized as it claimed to be. That was pretty much every trial back home. The bad news is that Tegrin brought along our contact from the Arbites as his champion. She’d been lobotomized and trussed up with so many weapons and metal bits that all she could do was drool and shoot. Cogboys called it an acro-flatulent.
To make a long story short, we won, and afterwards Tegrin did something that invoked a MASSIVE shift in the Warp, killing himself in the process. That’s what woke me up in the tube. The man had sewn his lies pretty well, because the second everyone got back to the ship (with a new Cogboy in tow; where do they keep getting these guys?) the Navy ships in orbit were ordered to open fire on us. We tried to negotiate and got humiliated pretty bad by another captain and his Cogboy. Why we didn’t just shoot back, I’ll never know. We could’ve probably blown a hole in the blockade before they annihilated us. Instead we got boarded. At that point, Bure figured that them seeing me wasn’t going to change their opinion about our guilt either way, so he flushed my tube and we went in to fight…only to have him clean house all over again. That shiny metal bastard is a BEAST.
Things were looking bad, so we had to finally play our trump card and reveal our status as Inquisition. It was received about as well as when you first told us, [REDACTED]. The planetary governess was willing to discuss why we were here, though, and so she joined us in orbit above Cassus.
As her ship docked with the Cera, I could feel the fragile sentience that exists within the ship panicking as a powerful Warp entity punctured it and flooded the ship with its dark energies. I was in the lab, but the comms system was left active, so I heard everything.
The planetary governess had been possessed by a Daemon of Chaos. It offered us deals in exchange for cooperation and promises to ignore it, but all members of the crew stood fast and rebuked her. I was proud. Maybe their exposure to the Warp gave taught them something. However, the daemon didn’t seem overly concerned with anything we had to say; melting one of our crew’s guns before departing its vessel. I suspect that it has plans for us. We got out of that entirely too easily.
The Governess has regained consciousness, but has lost the use of her legs. She has been relieved of duty and is in being taken to be…excouraiated, I think the term is. I suppose most would think her lucky to be alive, but I know better. I’ve seen what happens to people who must be “cleansed,” and even if that doesn’t kill her, the memories of being in thrall to that…thing will haunt her for the rest of her life. Most psykers will welcome the bolt round to the head.
I’m not sure how long the Governess has been under the influence of the Daemon, but upon examination of the ship she arrived in, it may very well have been long before we arrived on Cassus. The Cogboys indentified it as centuries old, and it had fallen into extreme disrepair. It reminded me a lot of the Rust Tombs on Thrax; and whatever hair I had left was constantly on end. It was clear from the beginning that there was at least one other Warp entity on the ship. The stench and feel of raw sewage filled the air and choked our movements, distorting the very fabric of the ship as we moved.
We came upon what I’m assuming was once the captain’s quarters. Poor scrub looked like he’d died on his bed. Apparently not. His corpse rose up to attack us, and then Logos set him, me, and most of the room on fire. Blessedly, a quick blast from my own abilities managed to remove all flaming materials, and the entity possessing the body fled to somewhere else in the ship. It didn’t go far-the rotted stuff in the kitchen coagulated and filled the hallway after we failed to disrupt it with a grenade. It attempted to swallow me in its giant, foul maw. Gayle thankfully managed to dispatch it with some well placed Plasma Gun shots, although the backsplash came dangerously close to taking us with it.
After tearing open a few bulkheads, we came to what the Cogboys assume may have been a control room. From the moment the door was opened, I felt the presence of the entity inside. I tried to warn them, but the cogboys’ love of ancient tech superseded their caution and they ventured in. Gayle went so far as to connect himself to the machines, and I immediately felt whatever was there leech into his mind. Seeing the plasma gun in his hands and the looks on the other men’s faces, I closed the bulkhead behind them. If they couldn’t find a way to exercise it, I wasn’t letting it get off the ship. On Thrax, the Mechanicus symbol is the only indication some of us have between peaceful Explorator crews and the OId Machines; and that ancient ship could become a doomsday weapon when under a possessed Gayle’s control.
Before I could radio the surrounding Naval fleet to frag the vessel, I heard a Longlas shot from Iccarus. I re-entered the room to see Gayle missing one of his gooey eyes and about to take the other one. He wasn’t a danger to Icarus or Logos, but they were preparing to execute him. I threw my body in front of their weapons and tackled Gayle to the ground. I wasn’t going to let him die if I could help it; I knew he could snap out of it if he had some more time.
I never got to find out what happened. I didn’t have enough time to fully recover from what happened in the Ziggurat, and Icarus, knowing I likely wouldn’t survive, shot me in the back and knocked me unconscious. He detonated Gayle’s Plasma Gun, obliterating my skeleton and destroying Gayle’s last remaining fleshy bits and some of his metal ones.
By some miracle, we both lived. Having failed to kill us even at point-blank range, Icarus decided that we were worth keeping after all. Something about “not breaking his toys.” I have since regrown most of myself with insect transplants from the planet’s surface, but Gayle hasn’t been so lucky. He’s sustained damage that won’t heal, and it’s going to cost an arm and a leg to replace his…arms and legs.
Beneath us, Cassus had fallen into disorder. A plague of walking sleep had struck, causing civilians to wander from their homes and to their deaths. The population was dropping in droves. Even after mustering the PDF and declaring martial law, we’ve got maybe a week before every last one of them is dead. The nobility are terrified and are holing up with their private armies; the Underhive is spewing into the Middle, angry and using the panic to revolt. Worse still, the local Astra Telepathica installment has warned of a massive upheaval in the Warp, indicative of some massive intelligence hurtling towards this system in real space. We have a plan, but we’re short on time and resources. We might lose this one.
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