The Inquisitor’s Library

Have you ever seen the Emperor?

On a thousand, million worlds his name is worshiped and revered and often taken in vain. His likeness and icons and symbols are carved into the sides of great cathedrals and given a place of honor in every home. From the moment of your birth to the second of your death the mass of humanity is immersed and supports the unstoppable tidal wave of faith that focuses on our Emperor and Saviour.

But have you seen the Emperor?

Not in pictures. Not in vids. Have you actually been to Holy Terra, stood before the Holy Throne and looked up at the physical reality of Humanity’s god?

I have.

My story, I suppose, is so common as to be unremarkable. I grew up on an Imperial World called Melinda’s Gift. A place far from the Calixis Sector, deep in human space, Melinda’s Gift was actually a pretty nice world. We didn’t fear attack by Ork or Tyrannid. It was mostly devoted to agriculture, but there were also a number of prime “administrative centers”, which were really high-end resorts for harried Imperial bureaucrats.

For the most part I had a pretty happy childhood. I was never the strongest, or fastest, or most popular, but I always seemed to do fairly well. If I was known for anything it was that I was considered to be rather lucky. Few of the other kids would play poker with me after awhile. Despite this, I was well-liked and tried to live as the Emperor commands.

In High School we got tested for psychic ability. I know now that this process can be much more “involved” on other planets. Melinda’s Gift reduced the whole affair to a benign administrative process. The kids would line up in the gym and the Psykers would run their scanners over you. If the test read positive, off you went. Admittedly, the Pyskers were very creepy and despite the positive spin put on things, no one really wanted to go off with them, but the whole process was fairly bland. Things got a little more exciting when someone would spontaneously manifest in class. Then school security would have to rush the poor kid and beat him down. There weren’t too many of those, the screenings caught most people early, but they happened from time to time.

So kids got scanned and the psychic ones would be hauled off. Funny thing was, I was never scanned the entire time I was at school. The scanner would break, or I’d be home sick, or I’d get detention, or some other thing always got in the way. Since the scanning was an annual deal, all us figured, I’d just get scanned next year and things would be fine. But somehow, I never managed to get scanned.

Of course, that was the basic manifestation and by the time I reached my senior year, the Pyskers realized that something was up. What followed was the most bizarre day of my entire life. The Psykers requisitioned a squad of Arbiters to pull me in. It should’ve been easy enough and I probably would’ve complied with anything they told me to do, but freak accidents and bizarre coincidences foiled the Arbiters time and time again. I didn’t know what was going on. At every moment I was either unaware of the Imperial attention or naturally reacting to some disaster that was happening around me. In the end, the school was leveled, about a dozen people were killed a few dozen more were injured, three other kids spontaneously manifested powers that went out of control and spawned chaos entities, and 8 high-ranking Pyskers had to be called in to get things under control. There was talk of the Space Marines paying a visit, but the Imperial Guard managed to clean up most of the mess. So Miranda’s Gift was never so happy to see a Black Ship arrive.

You’ll hear a lot of horror stories about the Black Ships. All of them are false. Life aboard those ships is a million times worse. I’m not going to talk about it except to say that I was keenly tested to determine the extent of my power. Nothing ever came of it. I was assumed to be some sort of psyker idiot savant. I could sometimes manifest great power, but there was no conscious control of it. After a great deal of testing it was decided that I was better off being fed to the Emperor. By that point, being fed to the Emperor seemed like the greatest thing in universe and it had nothing to do with the drugs or psycho-ganda.

So I’m standing in the long line that leads to the furnace. The one blessing they give to you is that the line winds right past the Throne and everyone who goes in gets a chance to look at the Emperor who’s about to eat them. Actually, I got a second blessing, they dope up the sacrifices so that they’ll stay quiet and complacent as they shuffle off to death, but the injector missed or something, I was completely lucid. It didn’t matter. I was about to be eaten by the Emperor rather than spend another second on the Black Ship, I was content.

So I’m looking up at this shattered, dessicated corpse nestled in its web of technology. It’s not at all what I’m expecting, but even an idiot savant like me can feel the monstrous waves of psychic energy roaring out of this man. I’m looking right at the Emperor of Mankind without a sliver of a doubt.

Then…everything falls away and I’m standing in this field and across from me is the Emperor, but it’s not a tube-ensconced corpse, it’s this man. He’s tall and trim and his hair is white and his eyes are blue. The Emperor has reached out and swept my small, insignificant mind into his. He’s…Love. That’s really the only way I can describe it. He loves humanity, loves me so much that he’ll do anything to keep us happy. That’s tough right now. It’s a cold, hostile universe and we have to be tough to beat back the aliens and chaos and stuff, but that’s not where he wants us to be. He doesn’t want us stacked like cord wood in Hiveworlds, he doesn’t want to devour endless souls to keep the beacon alight, he doesn’t want the billions of atrocities that must be committed to keep Humanity alive, but for now, those atrocities are all that’s keeping humanity alive. Someday, when we win, he’ll take it all apart. He’ll come out of his shell and travel the worlds of Humanity and each planet he walks upon will be molded by his powerful mind into the beautiful paradise he’s always wanted for humanity. A place in his mind that I’ve been to.

We spent long days walking, talking, getting to know one another. He shared the wonders of his future plans for humanity with me and I…well, I hope that I managed to ease the terrible burdens that he shoulders because he loves all of us so much.

Finally, we’re lying on the beach snuggled together looking up at the stars (and looking up at them in wonder not fear!) and he says to me, “Atellus, this is my dream, but we’ve got a lot of work to do before it can come true”.

“I know,” I said.

“That’s why I’ve got to ask you something.”

“You’re going to eat me now?”

“No,” he laughed (god, what a laugh), “I love you too much for that. I need you to go far away to the Calixis Sector. There’s an Inquisitor out there in charge of heretical material and I need you to help him in his work.”

“What would I be doing?”

“Well, officially you do whatever the Inquistor says you should do,” said the Emperor.

I smiled, “And unofficially?”

He smiled back, “Well, I’m not sending you out alone. You’ll be reporting to a man named Wollsey. One of the best agents I have. I’ve had a premonition that he might be in some sort of trouble, so I’m hoping that while he’s keeping you safe, you can watch his back, OK?”

“OK.”

“There’s one other thing. The Inquistor you work for is in charge of heretical material, but he doesn’t go around burning books. He keeps them.”

“And you want me to expose his treachery and burn him on the pyre of his own books?”

He laughed again, “No. The truth is that none of them know what true heresy is anymore. So great works of evil get swept up with the scrawlings of madmen or even truly useful things. There are any number of perfectly harmless books written during the Dark Age of Technology that are now decried as heresy. It’s all part of the great price we pay to keep Humanity safe. The thing is, I’m pretty sure that among the books in this Inquisitor’s library is a couple of books on cellular regeneration. The technology was pretty advanced at the end of the Dark Ages. The apparatus that keeps me alive makes use of a number of its techniques. But the Holy Throne was the best that could be cobbled together at the end of a devastating civil war. If I could find a few more books on the subject, a few more advanced, complete tomes, the med-techs could take advantage of it. Not only would it make my existence more tolerable, but it could hold the key to banishing our enemies once and for all. The aliens would find near-immortal humans impossible to defeat, chaos would find a revivified Emperor and bolstered Pyskers an insurmountable barrier. We could break out of our decaying stalemate and usher in the golden era I’ve long dreamed of and that we’ve shared together here.”

“Do these books have a name?”

“Not yet. I can see them very clearly,” he said as a large blue book with a hexagonal cover patter appeared before me. “And now you have too. But you’ll hardly be successful if you ask to see ‘the big blue book’. I’ve got other archivists working on the names. When I have them, I’ll let you know. Get those books back home to me and it will be the end of all this madness.”

“I won’t let you down.”

“I know you won’t, Atellus,” he gave me a quick kiss. “The sooner you get started the better. But before you go, there’s one last thing I need to tell you.”

He whispered into my ear and everything went white. When my vision cleared I was sitting in a chair next to the Holy Throne surrounded by Imperial Priests and Custodes. I was dressed in fine robes and there was a ring on my finger. I’d been out for almost a day and a half. My return to consciousness was followed by a very intense examination that made me wish I was back on the Black Ship. In the end, I told them what they wanted to hear. My time with the Emperor also gave me active control over my abilities. I was soon in training as a fully-sanctioned Psyker and actually making some good use of my abilities. I never told them about my mission, but was unsurprised when the orders came down for my transfer. So I set off for Calixis.

I have seen the Emperor, both as he is and as he will be. That alone is blessing enough. But in my heart I carry the great secret that the Emperor bestowed on me. The spark of joy that will shield me from all harm and care.

I know the Emperor’s Name.

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Wednesday!

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Sorry, folks, but our own Glorious Inquisitor GM is feeling under the weather.  He’d like to reschedule for next Wednesday - see  his email on the mailing list.

Apologies!

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I have a recurring dream.  I’m walking to the spaceport, checking the time, and I’m late.  I start to jog, and I’m carrying this heavy case, which I swing as I’m jogging, and I move it from my left hand to my right as I go, back and forth, in a rhythm.  I know I’m late, so I cut down a side street to save time — this is on a Hiveworld, so when I say street I mean tunnel, but you know what I mean.  In the tunnel in the middle the lights are out and it’s dark, and there’s a big puddle on the ground, about a centimeter deep in the middle, and I’m jogging through it when I see a flashlight light up off to my left, and I turn just a little — I’m in too much of a hurry to actually stop — and then I trip over something and I’m falling down to the ground, on my hands and knees, in the puddle.

Then I’m the guy — this is a dream, okay? — I’m the guy who pushed the guy into the puddle, and I’m looking down at him and I have a knife in my hand and the knife goes in, and up, and I know I’ve sliced his kidney open.  And I do it again on the other side, and I grab his suitcase and I run to the spaceport because I’m going to be late, I’m checking the time, and I have to run now, no time to jog like before, and I barely make it.  I remember looking at my watch in the first part of the dream, and it’s the same watch in the last part of the dream, and it’s the watch I’m wearing now.

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Report offered by:  [redacted]
To his eminence, [redacted], for the glory of the Emperor unending.

Subject:  Heretical riots on Settlement 228

For the Emperor and his Empire, my loyalty forever.  I give you greetings from Settlement 228, newly cleansed of apparent heresy.  My men and those of the [redacted] remain to ensure that no evil springs up in the absence of the heresy-that-was.  It is my experience that this period, after heretical influences have been removed by force, holds the greatest potential for either proper worship and behavior or a backslide into even more horrifying unbelief. We will ensure that the pendulum swings in the proper direction.

Heresy here sprang from an improper worship of a local “saint,” Caius the Scholar, who shared twin “sainthood” with his sister Elexa, “She of the Dark Blades.”  Documents and recordings describe a short but eventful life in which the siblings worked tirelessly - but without training or sanction - to eradicate heresy on this world, despite a sordid and ungrateful population sullied by the workings of evil.  As those with true experience in these matters might expect, Caius was led astray by his own scholarship, and began to promote heresy of an anarcho-mathematical nature.  His sister - the stronger of will, by far - struck him down and continued her work until a follower of the late Caius murdered her later that same year.   Annotated timeline appended (attachment 1).

The populace - always prone to improper belief, and lacking true guidance - began to show acts of worship toward the memory of both siblings in place of the Emperor.  Local Imperial authorities attempted the immediate squelching of this activity, but were overwhelmed by superior numbers.  Before word could be sent off-world, the adherents of Caius - what we would term a menial “gang” at best - overtook Imperial properties and assumed control of the planet.  Lists of local personnel are attached, sentences appended (attachment 2).  The mass eradication of their sister cult, with few exceptions, immediately followed.

An adherent of the Elexan cult - now repented of its heresy, the survivor claims - was able to send communication off-world, at great risk to himself and those in his cohort.  When the [redacted] and I arrived, the Caians maintained administrative and military rule of the planet.  The Elexans who contacted Imperial authorities had already been disposed of; only one remained as a spectacle for torture and display.  When further examined at great length, [redacted] professed her alliance to the Emperor alone.  In light of service, suggest further course of action, appended (attachment 3).

Further suggest the importation of available workers to assist in the exhaustion of the planet’s mineral assets.  Mining operations have nearly halted, due to the purges required in the settlement of this matter.

Suggest further study into the life and actions of Elexa of Settlement 228 as a candidate for sanctioned Sainthood, though few resources remain on-planet for such research.  Annotated bibliography appended (attachment 4).

I remain yours in obedience to the Emperor we all serve,

[Redacted], [Redacted] of Settlement 228

(official seal and signature appended, mechanical properties verified by recipient, date: [redacted])

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Title: The Key

Appearance: This is a small book of medium thickness. The cover is black cloth with a gold key stamped on the front. There is no other information on either the covers or spine. The pages themselves are gilt edged although the printing and overall construction of the book suggests that the book pretends to a level of quality it simply doesn’t have. Despite this, the book itself appears to be in fairly good condition and although it may have the look of a mass-produced copy, only one specimen is known to exist.

History: The Key first turned up several hundred years ago in the possession of a low-status noble on Scintilla. The noble, one Baron Hawthert suddenly burst from obscurity to become one of the most notorious figures at the court. It was said that no woman could resist his charms and he cut a swath of broken hearts and jealous husbands.

After a couple of assassination attempts, Hawthert decided that perhaps he needed some allies and quickly surrounded himself with a coterie of young rakes, all of whom were anxious to learn his arts of seduction. He taught his fellows a systematic method he referred to as “The Key” because it was “the key that unlocked a woman’s heart and thighs”. Although many people dismissed him as a shifty con man preying on the sexually frustrated and gullible, it soon became apparent that many of his students learned something from Hawthert because they were quickly racking up their own impressive collection of heartbroken women

The group also began to gather a different, rather less savory reputation. Wild rumors soon sprouted up about secret rituals and rites that the group was conducting. Whispers of witchcraft and demon-worship were bandied about. Soon those whispers reached the ears of the Inquisition who decided to take a closer look.

It was Inquisitor Pontifex who investigated Baron Hawthert and his crew and discovered a rapidly-building Cult of Slaanesh. During the Brokenhearted’s Revenge, the Inquistor brought fire, blade and bullet to the Court of Scintilla and put several hundred nobles (mostly men) to the test and found them very, very wanting. Baron Hawthert himself was very carefully tortured and revealed that he had fallen to the taint of chaos after following the instructions in a book called The Key. Having already leveled several palace towers in the Revenge, Inquisitor Pontifex was prepared to consign the book to the fire, but Inquisitor Castis intervened and the book was transferred to his care.

Known Powers/Abilities: The book purports to be a foolproof system for psychologically disarming women and making them more easily seduced by the practitioner. This does appear to be the case given the case history of Baron Hawthert and his men. However, while the book makes no overt reference to Chaos or Slaanesh, repeated use of the technique by the reader (and the kinds of men who would stoop to this deception are unlikely to stop using it), renders them susceptible to infiltration by Chaos. Baron Hawthert reported that he was sent dreams and visions at the consummation of his various conquests and through these revelations he created the cult that Pontifex destroyed.

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“This day I have perfected your religion for you, completed the Emperor’s favor upon you, and have chosen for you the Emperor as God above all others.”

Patron saint of: prodigals

Iconography: Innogen is associated with the crown of stars, the lily, and the crescent moon:

Saint Innogen the Grim

History:
St. Innogen was the only child of heresiarch Algestus, who preached the primacy of the ‘First God’. His sect, later known as the Algestian Heresy, believed that it was this god who had created the Emperor, and preached its immanent return. Algestians refused to pay proper homage to the Emperor, or follow the dictates of the government, claiming to follow instead the ‘First Laws’.

When Innogen experienced her psychic awakening, it was accompanied by a vision of the Emperor in his glory, to whom she swore eternal fidelity. Innogen fled the planet and offered herself to the Imperial forces, who found her an able informant against the heretics and equally zealous in their conversion or their destruction.

Innogen is credited with developing many techniques toward ensuring the loyalty and devotion of Imperial citizens, psykers especially. The Algestian Heresy was crushed with her aid, following which, she was brought to the Golden Throne to become one with the Emperor.

Innogen’s Creed:
I believe in the Emperor, who is omnipotent, and all-knowing. I believe he has always been thus, not only since time began but before all time. I believe there is no God before the Emperor. As for those who say there was a time when he was not, I reject them with curses. As for those who say there is a god above him, I will smite them down as heretics.

Blessed Innogen, I who am the most evil and sinful seek your grace and forgiveness. Therefore, since you are now with the Emperor because you are beloved and are beloved because you are chosen of the Emperor, I, in my misery, pray to you, in bliss; in my darkness, I ask for your light; in my sins, redemption; impure, I ask for purity. Lead me to the Emperor so that I may know his mercy as you do.

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200 points apiece; total is 600 for all.

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Our merry band of loyal servants arrived at the Tabularium Bibluvio aboard a nameless tramp freighter slash passenger ship, only to be met by the sight of a damaged ship on the Tabularium’s landing deck and a communication from Perseus to Woolsey. The nameless criminal currently masquerading as the latter noble soul accepted the call, and learned that his first task would be to lead his team in preventing several cultists from escaping from the Tabularium. To his credit, he did not flinch.

After informing the remainder of the team that he was Woolsey (”yes, we’ve been traveling with you for months, we know”) and that he was in charge, the team planned their attack. Turin the tech-priest suggested disabling the freighter, and since it’s wise to make Inquisitors happy, the captain allowed him to do so. Everyone else piled into the airlock at the bottom of the gangway.

Grim reached out with her mighty psyker powers, avoided summoning the Warp, and pinpointed a handful of cultists at some distance beyond the airlock. Confident that there would be no ambush, our heroes continued onward, full speed to engage the cultists. (Except Turin, who disabled the airlock, or perhaps activated its self-destruct sequence.)

The cultists proved to have blocked the door behind them with some sort of explosive charge, so it was a good thing our heroes were able to stand between them and escape. Particularly since the leader was carrying a large book, presumably stolen.

Melee ensued. The leader was cut down by lasfire within seconds. Three of the remaining cultists were dissuaded by Grim’s aura of mighty terror. Mir and Octus steadily polished off the remainder, with assistance from Atellus’ psychic barrage. The criminal currently known as Woolsey spent much of the fight paralyzed by the aforementioned aura.

One of the more timorous cultists was blinded by Turin’s long-range las pistol shot. Unable to see the object of his terror, he charged the group to no effect, got through the bunch, and ran for the airlock. Octus clubbed his head off, literally, which prevented him from escaping but did not prevent him from completing the self-destruct sequence. Ooops.

The remaining two cultists ducked into a side room. Regrettably and/or conveniently, it was an interrogation chamber. Grim stalked in, dropping her fear aura; the cultists decided that their allegiance could shift at a moment’s notice and offered to give her power like unto a god if she’d just save their lives and join the service of Tzeentch. “The book is life! Life is power! Power is all!”

She explained that the only true way was service to the Emperor and incinerated one of them to make the point. The other surrendered obligingly.

Turin fixed the airlock again, as is his wont. The remainder of the group reassembled. It was regrettably difficult to avoid noticing the sigil on the cover of the stolen book: it was a four pointed pentagram, or rather, a square with five points — sorry, I misspoke, I mean a four pointed pentagram. This matched the badges some of the cultists were wearing. Our strong-willed acolytes chose not to examine this matter any closer. Mir guarded the book, while Octus interrogated the remaining captive.

At this juncture, Inquisitor Lord Castis finished cutting his way through the bulkhead. He complimented his old friend Woolsey on the work he’d done bringing his team together. Not-Woolsey accepted the compliment gracefully, then engaged in intellectual sparring with the Inquisitor on the motivation of the cultists. The Inquisitor took it well.

Subsequent to the informal debriefing, Lord Castis informed the noble acolytes that they should dress for dinner. Everyone accomplished this, each in their own fashion. Woolsey may have wondered why his luggage contained a variety of formal outfits for any society or culture, but in the end he picked something appropriate. Mir, at Octus’ urging, availed herself of the ship’s tailor.

Sadly, the Inquisitor was not able to attend dinner, as he and the First Team were already preparing themselves for an assault on the cultist network. Perseus stood in for him, not without some penetrating questions for Woolsey-Who-Is-Not-Woolsey. Turin resolved the matter of his right to proselytize among the ship’s crew — “Yes, but you need to leave the Keth family alone, it’s important that they remain mentally pure.” And Octus quizzed Mir on her background, discovering that she had been pardoned and thus was under no obligation to talk about her past as a saint ganger.

The evening ended with an assignment: Woolsey-Prime was to lead the team to recover a book from a certain Baron, who had held it long enough. The book in question was the sibling of the book which had not, thansk to the acolytes, been stolen. Little could go wrong.

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