[r4wr89]

more than a year ago, i stopped posting here. and, here, in the greatest form of thread necromancy in the history of mankind, is a continuation.
please note that in the year between posts, i HAVE filled out massive amounts of the fluff. all that's left is simply to type it...edit, and finally, share it with you.


‘Let’s get rollin’!” she said, flashing her dazzling smile before tightening her shoulder rig. She extracted a pair of muscular auto-revolvers from an untidy pile of clothing on her cot, spinning the chambers to check that their contents were full. They were beautiful specimens, hand forged and customized for her long, elegant fingers, with delicate ivory laced into the grip and muzzle. Her name was intricately carved into the side of each gun housing, “Anya Wrenworth,” intertwined with a Bosphorus vine from our shared home world of Pelossus. She threw her brown hair into a hasty hairtie and turned to speak to her partner.
Across the room was, as far as I knew, her closest companion, Lydeah Gerhardt. The two were an unlikely team, Lydeah as closed and unfeeling as Anya was amiable and entertaining, but they worked well together and represented an indispensable part of my staff.
Lydeah grunted a nonverbal response to her friend’s remark, and strapped her plasmagun over her shoulder, wiggling the feed to her backpack to check it one last time.
I stood in the doorway, looking in on their preparations. I had come to announce our impending departure off the gunship Nocturne, perhaps more affectionately known as my “mobile office.” It served as transportation for my staff and a comfortable housing en route, but I still had to rely on true spacecraft for off-world journeys.
And this certainly counted as off-world.

Shipmaster Uriah had patched a warning to us via our shared vox-link just a few minutes ago. The news of the second decoy’s destruction was unexpected and quite difficult news to swallow. Two hundred of the legendary Astartes were already lost, as was an old friend and colleague of mine, Inquisitor Kasimir Volrath, who had opted to oversee and coordinate this mission with me. He would be missed, but it wasn’t yet an appropriate time for mourning. Having heard the news, I immediately set to alerting my staff. In a moment I would need to retire to my own quarters to prepare myself for the next phase of the mission, and so I took a quick swig of water from the canteen I was holding, and turned to leave. The door slid shut behind me, hissing as the airlock kicked in. I fumbled around with my cloak until I found my rosette, hanging on its thick golden chain. I stowed it in a more accessible pocket and strode confidently back towards my room.

I am inquisitor Barbaris Kasparov of the Ordo Xenos, and I know my duty well. I was to bring holy judgment upon a sworn enemy, the warp-abomination chaos lord Alastare Terris.



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It seems strange that an Ordo Xenos inquisitor might be dabbling in the work of the Ordo Malleus, but this task was close enough to my destination, and extra inquisitorial support was required for a mission of such magnitude.
Lord Terris’ piratical raids on the imperial support ships had gone on for far too long, and Inquisitor Volrath had requested additional help to stop him and his twisted followers. We were each to join a detachment of Astartes, taken off their course to Medusa V, the largest planetary battle many of us had ever had the honor of serving in, to form a pair of traps for Terris’ cultist forces. It involved a grueling amount of planning and still held great risk, but it was our holy duty, and well worth the effort.
Down the hall, I palmed a key reader that opened the door to a study that doubled as my sleeping quarters. It wasn’t large, but it housed several rows of literature I deemed useful for fieldwork or interesting enough to bring for longer journeys. Across from the shelves was my bed, a simple cushion about fifteen centimeters thick, piled high with pillows and sheets I rarely tidied. Aside from the sparse shelves and bed, the only other notable features were a reading alcove, carved directly out of the side of the ship, and a desk whose hue and texture perfectly matched the shelves and the hardwood floors.
The Nocturne’s wood floor, glowing a beautiful mahogany color in the warm rays of the ship lighting, was warm under my feet as I changed out of my robes. Throne, it would be a long day.