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Inquisitor Kalten
and Ogryn Rokk
Phillip Clough
catachandw@hotmail.com
Inquisitor Al'Thor stirred on the hard concrete. As Kalten returned to consciousness he realized that his head ached and he knew opening his eyes would do nothing to improve the feeling. Sitting up with his back against the pock-marked plaster wall he eased the course rope tied around his hands and ankles. Even though the binds had been secured clumsily they were still effective. Through a misty haze Kalten racked his mind trying to dredge up the past for some answers, he hated being unsure of the situation. Vague memories of a routine Inquisitorial investigation turning into a bloody ambush surfaced, he groaned quietly. His blurred focus landed upon a stain ridden table in the corner of the dank room, his claymore glowed softly as the power enhancers fed a charge into the blade. Kalten braced himself against the wall and attempted to heave himself to his feet. A solid chain around his waist held him fast and he sunk back to the floor, fury inside him began to boil.
The engraved door to his cell flew open at the command of a well placed boot and a small man entered. The man slid into the oppressive room and stood in the corner eying Kalten intensely. When he spoke the words oozed from inside him.
" You look so impressive chained to a wall my dear Imperium-slave", he motioned slightly to the sword resting on the gnarled table.
" Interesting, mmm yes, your ancestry is rich.", his fingers followed the inscriptions on the hilt of the imposing weapon.
" Such a jewel among the wretched common items I collect. Tell me dear slave, what interesting abilities does this possess?". His gaze wandered over to where Kalten sat and his wizened eyes narrowed a fraction.
" Or perhaps it possesses you? Hmm?", he wheezed humourlessly.
Kalten felt a presence fade sharply from the back of his mind. The psychic shield that was rendering his minds potential impotent had guttered and failed. Raising to one knee he worked the kinks from his neck with his left hand and eyed the wide-eyed man consideringly.
" I have visited many worlds my child. Seen visages that would blight a pure soul for millennia. Distain fills me to think that you could hold me here with a few man-made bonds. Tell me dear child, are you a god fearing man?".
The last words were bitten off by a snarl as Kalten raised his hand and psychically channelled his sword from the table to hurl across the room cutting his bonds as he leapt above the searing blade.
The distraught heretic scrambled to the heavy door and turned just in time to see the frostblade rotate and spear him to the carved wood panels.
Inquisitor Al'Thor removed his claymore from the corpse and wiped the blade on the corner of the mans fine silk cloak. Suddenly a large thunk reverberated through the room as the doors heavy bolt was put into place sealing it shut. A small plate side to one side revealing a grinning, twisted face.
" I hope you will enjoy Raadic's company Imperial-slave, as the building falls on your head!". Insane laughter echoed down the corridor as the deviant sped away.
Collecting himself Kalten stabbed into the slab-sided panels of the door. His blade was repelled by an equal power-charge being fed through a mesh inside the wooden core of the solid door. Cursing, he knew this was the only exit from his prison and if he didn't escape these mad heretics would bring the building down around him!
Sounds of a struggle touched his ears so he pressed close to the open plate and tried to peer into the murky corridor. Louder still he was certain someone was approaching and he braced himself on the sturdy rear wall to assault anyone who opened his cell.
The prison door was indeed opened, but instead of opening inwards the framework creaked, twisted and finally was ripped outwards followed by half the adjoining wall and a shower of mouldy plaster. The off-white cloud settled over the ruins of the cell while Kalten apprehensively prepared and sword-stanced himself for anything about to come charging in.
Amid the mass of broken power cords and rubble a swinging lamp silhouetted the monstrous form of an Ogryn holding the cracked wall and remainders of the door in both hands. Kalten raised an eyebrow then spotted the imperial eagle tattooed onto the wide shoulder of his would-be rescuer.
" State your purpose and allegiance!", he called to the hulking Ogryn, a sudden feeling of deja-vous flitted past his memory and the small urge to dive aside. Foremost survival and professionalism set in his mind though.
" Umm… Rokk, First Ogryn kill squad.", came the low growl, " Serving the Emperor an' then Commissar Angrid I 'ope".
Kalten breathed a sigh of relief, battling Ogryns was not a healthy pastime in his books. Starting forward he assimilated the picture before him. An imposing brute of a creature towering almost to the ceiling, holding a section of wall freshly ripped from its holdings.
" Drop the wall Rokk and grab your Ripper, your with me". Kalten commanded.
The brawny Ogryn turned on the spot and hurled the section down the corridor into a group of suddenly wide-eyed heretics who were quietly sneaking up behind him.
" Yessir, sir", Rokk's bass rumble was accompanied by the click of him banging the drum magazine into the Ripper Gun.
Kalten marched forthrightly down the wide oppressive corridor flanked by Rokk. Ripped electric pipelines hung limp from the ceiling where the claws of something truly immense had separated them from the stained wall. Kalten heard a faint clicking on the limits of his bionic ear and motioned for Rokk to fall in behind him. He regretted bringing only his claymore for this 'routine' investigation. His confidence would be the downfall of him, he knew it in his heart of hearts. Pacing slowly towards the yawning exit of the eerie corridor. Trading knowing looks with Rokk he pointed back down the corridor where the sounds of angry voices was emanating and Rokk bounded back down towards the rabble. Gripping the gilded corner of the exit he peered around bracing himself for whatever monstrosities exist. A vast chamber rolled out in front of him, the cooling glow of illuminated stained-glass windows tens of metres high bathed the hall in muted colours. His gaze also acknowledged the source of the dull clicking sounds. A withered wretch of a man paced the centre of the chamber feverently chanting to himself. His pristine robes were only marred by the congealed blood framing the base of his once-grand cloak where his boots had been. Instead he paced on sharp bone stumps with ragged flesh slapping wetly against the exposed bone. Kalten sniffed and drew his claymore from his back holster and eased the potent weapon in his gauntlet leaden hands. Straightening behind the corner he took a breath to clear his mind of residual taint or malformed emotion and calmly stepped out.
The haggard man ceased to pace and twisted to face the foreboding Inquisitor.
"Al'Thor. Al'Thor! My you have come along way." The words seemed to drift out of the man involuntarily. Kalten wanted the Emperors will to be done so he dispensed with niceties.
" Cleric I am surprised to see you here among such deviancy. Tell me, does it pain you to walk on such blooded stumps?" His mind began filling in and locking together the pieces of this puzzle.
The man shifted erratically to fully face Kalten and sighed. The great hall was darkened slightly as the suns began to set outside. Kalten felt an uneasy feeling shimmer across his mind, and then the feeling of someone standing right behind you about to touch you. The last piece fell into place. Leaping forward he swung his sword arm above the head of the sporadic preacher and felt the gentlest resistance on his blade as fine cords attached to the holy man were severed. The ruined body slumped boneless to the stone floor. Kalten landed in front of the sack of flesh and was immediately thrown across the chamber by a terrific blow to the chest. Slumped against the wall he cough and reached up to the stabbing pain arcing through his middle, he removed the offending shard of carapace and let it drop from his fingers with a metallic echo.
Behind the corpse the air twisted slightly then warped around itself in a tantalizing dance of ancient particles radiating in the luminescent beams of the dying sunset. Suddenly the space froze, rotated slightly and finally inverted itself revealing a huge warped beast crouching over the empty husk that was once part of the Imperial devout. Kalten's eyes widened slightly at the imposing sight of the frothing creature. Carefully he raised himself to a crouching position while the beast reigned itself in like a coiled spring about to release in a berserk hurricane of slaughter. With a devious grace that belied its fearsome size the chaotic monster launched into the air filled with rage at the Inquisitors faith. Kalten waited until the hard plains of his features reflected in the blood-crazed eyes of the incoming horror and then psychic impelling himself directly up, metres into the air. Crashing into the cold stone where Al'Thor had just been the creature reared up on hoofshod back legs and pounced upwards at the evading black cloaked prey. Having only a split second to react Kalten impelled from the smooth rock wall and sailed across the cavernous hall, black coat whipping outwards like wings. Barely a fraction behind him the huge muscled deviance bounded off the marked wall and extended razor-like talons as it homed in on it's target. Upon landing on the ground Kalten ducked into a roll whilst jamming his claymore in a crack on one of the flagstones with blade facing the incoming monster. Sailing out of the air the immense beast crashed into the glowing claymore skewering it's chest, a rumbling howl escaped the horror's fetid lungs as it lunged forward to kill the loathed Imperial icon directly before it. Inquisitor Al'Thor skidded to a halt and whirled round, bolt pistol cocked in one hand, tanglefoot grenade primed in the other. The thrill of the chase flooded through Kalten as he hurled the grenade at the charging abomination and jumped back, both bolt pistol and shoulder mounted psycannon blazing away for Imperial justice.
Kalten and Rokk stood outside the imposing bastion where so much had happened to them in the past hours. Rokk shifted where he loomed next to the static Inquisitor, peering now and then to see if lightning was going to pulse from his eyes. Rokk had returned to the great hall in time to watch the epic battle between Kalten and the daemon. The mighty Inquisitor had twisted and turned, back-flipped and blasted the monstrosity into oblivion, he had only paused once in the fight at the end to casually wipe the blood and gore from his claymore onto the creature. The hulking Ogryn grunted as he slung his huge battleaxe over his shoulder and carefully withdrew his last remaining ration from his belt-pouch. Kalten glanced round at Rokk and smiled to himself at how much concentration the blocky Ogryn put into extracting the meat from the ration packet. The smile faded as rapidly as it came when he returned his cold gaze toward the grim bastion. Inquisitor Al'Thor had come here to pass judgement, and he was going to. Raising his right hand he pressed the tiny stud on a small square device he had pried from the hand of a freshly slain heretic when inside the building. Turning to walk away from the damned place he cocked his head for Rokk to follow, a worthy bodyguard in his opinion. Ten paces later the bastion walls erupted outwards in a fireball bright enough to be seen from miles around and then sunk into the blackened, charred ground. Yes, thought Kalten as he strolled away, a suitable judgement indeed. |
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