The Hammer Falls

Arkanis Log 003 -- My inquisitor told me there'd be days like this...
...with a few grenades too

Today I saw hell. Standing in front of me. A creature from the warp materialized inside our ship, right inside of the poor sap we were running tests on. Just burst right out of his chest.

Next thing I know Benedictus blasts half it’s head off with a shot guided by the Emperor or something… I’m not one to normally think he goes around saving us mortals, but against such a hellish creature as that, I’m still not sure how he managed to hurt it so much with a single shot. Well, then it started running, and it just shrugged off my shotgun blasts. It opened the door outside… oh I’m sorry, that was a solid wall it tore open… and jumped down and started running. I tried to stop it from the opening, and that’s when the first grenade went off. I’m not sure who threw it but I got some shrapnel in the face for their efforts. The creature didn’t care though. Then I jumped down to stop this thing before it escaped and thankfully one of the crew blew it off it’s feet. I was about to catch up and put it out of it’s misery, and that’s when the second grenade went off.

My head still hurts from that. I woke up a few hours later to find out the creature was dead. I’m not really sure what I’m more scared about, hell bursting out through that guy’s chest, or knowing that one of my own apparently likes to throw grenades around a little too much… I need to find out who did that still…

Oh, and right before all this went down, Draclyn had some crazy tentacles in her head when I was looking through the warp. I’m pretty sure that’s not normal. Maybe I should tell Solomon about that.

Medical Officer Log XVIII
The exploding man

The loss of a patient, even though we were using him for a highly questionable experiment, has had an effect on me. It is one thing to lose a patient on an operating table, it is quite another to have a [redacted] explode from its chest with a gleam of fiendish hunger in its eyes. It was luck, not skill that won the day. I am reminded all too well of my own venerable body. Have I realized my training would have left me so unprepared for what I would encounter in the field I would have focused more of my lessons on firepower and less on my understanding of the lore.

I have done all I can to provide to my team some small token that, I hope, if we are caught in a similar situation we will be better prepared. I will exhaust all my ability to create connections to better supply our small team and while my charges are at rest, and recover, I will take one more step toward becoming more than I am today and may the Omnissiah find me worthy.

I realize that my role will need to change if I’m to serve the Omnissiah and the God emperor. I will use all my efforts to continue the support of this team and wipe this [redacted] out of existence.
The chanting rolled from the temple of the Omnissiah in a rigid mechanical tone, parts were harmonic, parts were overly mechanical. Sounds of Metal on metal, sharping of steel, and hammering thundered, as the chanting continued.

A perfectly shaped rectangle of black metal rested upon a glowing table. Oil oozed from it, seemingly out of nowhere, filling the reservoir held within the table.

“There is no certainty in flesh but death,” chanted the priests surrounding the room.

Nash also chanted as he struck the box, with a long blade arcing a blue electrical fire from its blade. A rune began to swirl and glow upon what moments ago was a solid black mass.

“Omnissiah bless this making, let not the Ruinous powers or unfaithful machine spirit sully even the lowliest allele,” exclaimed Nash.

“There is no certainty in flesh but death,” again the priests chanted.

A tone of what only could be described as warm and approving, rung out from the casing. Nash raised the casing key to his lips, only once, so not to offend the machine spirit within. He slowly inserted the blessed key into the rune, a radiant glow shot out of the rune swarming over the room and rested, pulsating, upon Nash.

“May the holy lumen guide the blade,” chanted the priests.

The box let forth a gale of steam, an impossibly strait line shone out of the casting and continued to expand down it’s length. The steam seemed to double and continued to bellow out of the box. It was accompanied by what would be an incapacitating odor if it was not for the masks worn by all in the room. The smell could only be described as ancient blood, rusted metal, with a hint of burnt oil. Visibility in the room was reduced to less than an inch or two by the now overabundant fog.

The priests removed their masks and inhaled deeply. A loud clang run throughout the room, silence followed and a few seconds later rattling chains could be heard being drug across the floor and up the walls. Suddenly an audible pop was heard and the pressure in the room suddenly lessened. The fog quickly lightened and escaped through, what could only be described as exhaust vents in the shape of skulls surrounding the room. A priest stood next to each of the skulls and each faced the skull and released the bit of fog escape their body. This was quickly pulled from the room as well. The cloud could be seen being pulled into transparent collectors surrounding the room. The clouds continue to spin and when the chanting began again shapes began to take from in the cloud and pulsate along with the rise and fall of the chanting.

“As the Omnissiah gives we will return,” chanted the priests.

A faint glow still emanated from the casting, inside sat a set of arms and legs surrounded in synth-muscle, and a oozing viscus material slowly dripped from the muscle.
The priests surrounding the room moved forward.
Four approached the casing and carefully pulled the arm from the material, it clung to the muscle and seemed to ignore the gravity pulling on the oil it was mixed with.

“Life must be given by the unworthy,” chanted the priests.

Nash removed his robes and gave himself the first of many injections into his right arm. He could feel his arm go instantly numb. A priest grasped his now numb forearm, another braced him on his left and before Nash knew it his right arm was ripped from his socket.

The pain was beyond anything he ever felt before. He wavered in his stance but quickly held, he knew if he failed to remain conscious he would show dishonor to the machine spirits and this joining would be cursed.

His limb was held over the matching arm and all blood and marrow was squeezed from his now lifeless true arm. The blood sizzled as it hit the arm, more steam came forth from the metal limb and was quickly pulled into the collectors.

“The spirit of the fallen will be joined to the Omnissiah”

“Anima Mechanica, exsuscitare!”

Upon the final word the metal limb was jammed into the open socket. Tendrils shot out of the metal arm slamming into the right side of Nash’s chest and shot out of his back. A
second set shot though his back and exploded out of his chest. Both sets intertwined back into the arms and the limb tightened into the bloody socket with a loud audible pop. He could feel smaller stabbing into his bone where the metal touched his raw socket. Nash’s eyes began to roll upwards, the viscous fluid still clinging to the arm began to flow up the limb seeking the flesh touching the metal, as it found its target it bubbled and popped. Nash felt as if his nerves were being burned one at a time. Pain streamed up his neck and stabbed at his brain. He felt as if his head would explode form the throbbing pressure. He saw a white film flow before his eyes and as quickly as it begun it stopped.
Nash stood there and could feel his nerves connecting to his new arm, but the pain was now gone.

“There is no certainty in flesh but death, the spirit of the fallen will be joined to the Omnissiah”

Nash picked up the second injector in front of him with his new arm and jammed it into his left true arm.

The priest grasped his left forearm and the other priest braced him.

“Anima Mechanica, exsuscitare!”

Father, guide us in our time of trials

Men are strange creatures.

I realize now that I am away from my Sisters and out in the universe, spreading the justice of my Father across his many worlds, that I will have to deal with them more often than not.
Honestly, my first inclination is to keep them at arms length. Filthy and uncouth as they are, I do not yet understand what the grand idea of them is.

Draclyn seems to handle them in a most unseemly manner, flaunting her body at them with reckless abandon. And for what? To curry favour? To manipulate? Even that word has a male root.
Must I exploit myself in the same way, just to receive information that I could just as easily ask a woman? Why is such a dance necessary, are men not made of the same form as women? Is trickery really the only thing they understand? Or perhaps I could tackle it a different way, with brute force. I have yet to find one that peeks my interest. Until then, I will observe.

While I do not fully understand the male species as yet, what I do understand is that there is more at play here than we originally knew. Taint and blasphemy are everywhere, and this drug is at the centre of it, of that I am sure.

And these riots? Are they connected to the drug as well? The firepower described by my shipmates during the last riot sounded much too powerful and way too organized to be a random food riot. There is much yet to be unveiled here, and we will get to the root of it.

I can only hope that our dealing with this guinea pig prove useful, and our controlled attempt at observing this drug gives us more insight into its nefarious purpose.

Arkanis Log 002 -- Empty

I’ve never felt such a hollowness before. Such a… nothingness…. yet so much terror…

Our investigation was going fine until some of the others found those marks. We had to have the site closed down and were taken away by the inquisitors. That’s when I felt it. I was put in a cell, but it wasn’t the physical walls that haunted me. It was the nothingness. Like having my very essence stripped from me. I’m still not entirely sure what it was. Not even when Inquisitor Wroth found me did I feel such terror. Sure I thought my life was going to end that day, but that’s just a part of life. We all die someday. This was entirely different. They didn’t do anything to me while I was in custody. It would have been better had they though, to take my mind off the horrible emptiness. I’ve never felt my soul before, but now I know what it feels like to lose it.

Medical Officer Log XVII
The grime that distracts me

Begin recording: 20394012234-XVII—————————————————

Nash: “Bob, Medical Journal begin recording.”

Bob: “Sir, you do realize that I could be performing various other calculations at this time, or devising a way to best extract the knowledge from the prisoner. Couldn’t you use one of your many other devices to dictate notes to?”

Nash: “Bob, as we have gone over before, I trust your insight and what better way to get insight than for you to get my inner most thoughts as I give them.”

Bob: “As you wish sir, what are we calling this one? The tale of rust volume 10343?”

Nash: "Bob, I promised I would no longer relent on the untidiness of the crew and the state of the ship. I would silently suffer the inabilities of others to see the glorious machines pain right in font of them, as long as you didn’t try to take holo recordings of Nor and Larissa in compromising positions

Bob: “But sir, it is my duty to archive this entire mission and ensure that everything is available for the admission of guilt and innocence.”

Nash: “Bob, please review chapter 32, section 32, subsection 15, paragraph 12 of the inquisitorial manual.”

Bob: “yes, yes, no inquisitor will be required to have recordings of them while they sleep, bathe, or relieve themselves, as some natural sounds, although may be thought of as heretical in some languages are altogether natural. But sir, my sensors, I swear one of them is keeping a foul beast hidden in their pants.”

Nash: “Bob, both have been given a extensive medical exam as well as the standard tests for the taint. They have been given a clean bill of health and my weekly additions to their food cubes would quickly identify any issues. I have kept my promise Bob, your bound to keep yours.”

Bob:whispering “yes but one would not think with your incisiveness about the rust you would have stopped the complaints for this long, if I knew I wouldn’t have made that deal, I just needed a reprieve, I still think Larissa is hiding something in that goo… if only they made it more transparent.”

Nash: “you said something Bob?”

Bob: “Did you hear something sir?”

Nash: “Sounded like your vox box is on the fritz again.”

Bob: “That must be it sir, your last repair may have interrupted the cross reference junction in the terminus.”

Nash: “My apologies Bob, I will see to it this evening.”

Bob" “Recording started sir”

Nash: "Thank you Bob, Today we will have a small dissertation on the aliments and limitations of unprocessed food, and the glory of food cube preparation. The great machines of old have been said to……….. "

End recording: 20394012234-XVII—————————————————-

GM Overview Session #3
Bust or Bust...

>>> Access accepted. Welcome to Inquisitional Archives.
>>> Encryption key activated.


Vesuna Regis Iron Sektumos Port 23 Bells Live!!!

“Vox-Persona Damien “The Unicorn” Maginot reporting live from Sektumos Port in the midst of CHAOS!!! That’s right I said it folks, CHAOS abounds in Sektumos. Now before you all go crawling under your beds and hiding your heads…this CHAOS is not some distance spooky tale, this is home grown violence and murder right here in our very own capital!

Witnesses describe a scene of horror and mayhem! I have right here with me Ogryn Longshoreman “Gott Friegen” who was front row to the entire event. Gott, tell us what the hell happened!


Gott, “See , it wuz”

Damien, “Wow!! Gott, really, really??? “

Gott, “Uh”

Damien, “Smugglers, I bet it was smugglers wasn’t it? We have had such a problem with smugglers lately, slaves, drugs, mutants – it’s been terrible.”

Gott, “See”

Damien, “So you were here minding your own business and then the cutter’s weaponry just opened up on you and a crowd of what about seventy-five innocent workers?”

Gott grins wickedly and nods along, “Yup.”

Damien, “Gott…that is just plain, terrible. What happened next?”

Gott, “We’z”

Damien, “REALLY?! Holy crap Gott, that’s amazing! So you barely escaped with your life when the cutter blasted its way out of the dock, went to afterburners, and burned half of the innocent workers crowding the ship to cinders?!”

Gott nods emphatically.

Damien, “These foul smugglers must be caught. Our very own Vigil is searching for a Typhon class cutter that looks like THIS. Probably hiding its ident under false pretenses. If you or anyone you know has seen a Typhon class cutter relocating or flying outside of your window, please VOX 99-999-BUSTED.”

Damien turns towards the camera trying to hide what is in the background as 15 Vigil officers armed with shock batons and stun lances begin to beat and pummel Gott into the ground, screams sound out, and yells of, “Come ‘ere ya freaking mutant bastard…”

“He’s got horns! Chaos!! Kill it!”

Pete Lars has had a rough gig. Sure you can easily point out that rough gigs are all about choices. He wouldn’t in fact disagree. Bad choices have lead him to bad places. Just how bad he doesn’tI even know, really.

Manufactorum foreman fired for substance abuse. Family left him for the loser lifestyle he adopted.

Then he had his first hit of bust. Things were looking up. The sheer pleasure of it all. The bliss, the high, the euphoria, life just started looking up! At least he felt it had.
The high was so good he didn’t even realize he was living on the street. In a trash heap in a piss filled alley. LIFE still was good. Except when he came down.

Down has been the way for a few weeks now. His subsistence pay has dried up. Dewey hasn’t been around in a while. He forgot to eat for like a whole week.
Then these serious slammers from the Ministorum Medicae Society or something came around. They were offering him good times again! Just so they could run some tests, take some blood, feed him and clean him up.

Bust is the best thing that ever happened to him.

These people were legit. They seemed kind and rich too. He got to shower and wear a pair of clean coveralls. It was an interesting team of people.

The bossy one – who seems to be an ex-cop and pretty reasonable. All ex-cops are the same everywhere at least he didn’t night stick his face.

There’s this sexy soldier lady. She looked a little intimidating but seems like she knows how to have fun and the cut on that blouse and the few buttons open at the top was a nice change for the snaggle-tooth witches on the street.

Now the preachy one…wow she is scary. Sexy in that school-house Nun sorta way…but she looks ready to flame at any second. I bet she is about to lay a sermon on me about abusing myself. I could totally handle that if she would pop a button or two like her soldier friend but she is probably into the ladies herself, given that she screams convent raised.

Can’t forget that cutie from the closet with all the lotion. She is hot in a weird twisty sort of way, big luminous eyes and that hungry smile on her face, I bet she was checking out my coveralls.
Pretty awesome, they even had their very own Tech-Priest muttering something about “It rubs the serum on his basket…” whatever the hell that means.

Larissa has had enough of this ship. She needs off and off now. Gunfights at the space port, freaking emergency evasions and fast blasting out of atmo – just freaking ridiculous.
Now the team shows back up with yet another innocent in tow. Another prisoner she is pretty sure they are going to put a bullet in when they are done torturing information out of him.

Oh wait now they want her to help with the torture?


Maybe that’s better than being locked in her socket. Ok, so does this mean I’m a more integral part of the team now, instead of just the long range voxer…the closet monkey they only bring out when they need and then lock me back up again…I can play along. This is my chance to show them…maybe I can be a real team member and get off the damn ship now and then…

Larissa steadied her mind and prepared to reach into the warp. Let’s have a look at Peter here shall we. The chaos wind rushed into her thoughts as the veil parted to her very powerful mind.
Wow that’s a lot of pink and blue and beautiful roses and flowers, and the scent so powerful and fragrant…and the bright, this isn’t the normal hive warp that she expected…I need to push through this bright haze and beautiful colors and oh here is Peter here he is…

Holy Throne of Emperor!!!

God Emperor of Man Kind!!!

He wait…, why…does he have a claw mark embedded in the flesh of his face?!?! What is that standing behind him!?!?!?! Are those tentacles IN him??


GM Overview Session #2

>>> Access accepted. Welcome to Inquisitional Archives.

>>> Encryption key activated.

“Serum-91216XB7 The TRUTH, the TRUTH serum, Truth serum, get to the bottom of it, yes get to the bottom of it. Bob it is ready.” Nash intoned with just the proper inflection and rites necessary to honor the Omnissiah.

The prisoner was very forthright in sharing her knowledge. Even without the use of the serum. She just didn’t care all that much. “I was paid to come here with the others and stir up trouble at the docks.” The description and location she provided were specific.

The team dumping her into an alley drugged up however…that is going to be remembered and reported. Just as soon as she can get cleaned up, she is going down to the Vigil and reporting those crazy bastards at the docks for kidnapping her. Getting paid to stir up trouble with a little civil disobedience is one thing, getting kidnapped and nearly tortured is another thing entirely. Freaky off worlders!

It was good to see Benedictus again, though the setting for that meet couldn’t be any worse. An Alpha class morale threat right here on his watch and he invited Benedictus out to see it. What a freaking mess. He must be slipping. The lock-down sequences initiated and local inquisition forces arriving is going to put a damper on this reunion. What can a fella do?

The black armored menacing troops that arrived with their séance crews and astropathic contigents was certainly efficient. The Vigil officers, his buddy and their Ministorum team, all hustled out of the building into unmarked waiting hovercraft and zipped away to God-Emperor knows where.

Adeptus Arbites Sergeant Mitch Gant knew where his loyalties lie. He also knew that he couldn’t let an old comrade rot in some prison somewhere. Time to start making inquiries and alerting the Ministorum that their operatives may have run afoul of Inquisition business. Man, did I mess this up.

Little Sister
The Emperor is our Father and our Guardian, but we must also guard the Emperor.

I have the same dream every night.

I am five years old, it is night and I have awoken to screaming yet again.

My world was simple, feral and new to the light of the God Emperor, only having been enlightened 3 years ago.
I had spent my day listening to the new lords speak of His wonder and majesty, and how we must always be vigilant for signs of heresy and witchcraft.

On any other night, my mother’s screaming and crying would have seen me bury myself deeper in my bed. I had never seen her being beaten, but the wounds and bruises the next morning in odd shapes on her resigned face would corroborate the screams of the night before. But this night, emboldened by the Preacher’s sermon of vigilance in the face of horror, I had to do something.

I moved out of the loft where I slept, and silently made my way to the kitchen. Strange shapes were flying in every direction, and as I got closer, I could not believe what I saw.

This man who I had called Father was hurling plates, forks, pots, pans, CHAIRS at my mother….without picking them up, he just screamed at her and another object would fly through the air and slam into her cowering body.

It was the table that did it.

Her head made a sickening crunch sound as the corner of the table slammed into it. She stopped making any noise, her body limp, eyes glazed over and mouth agape, filling with the blood pouring out of the hole in her head.

None of this stopped him from continuing his assault.

He was so consumed in his task he did not notice me pick up a butter knife from the floor and climb onto the counter.
In one quick motion I jumped on his back and brought the dull knife down into first one eye, and then the other in quick succession.

He screamed, flailing, confused and angry. I held on and just kept stabbing until he shook off my tiny body. I slammed into the wall next to the fireplace.

Before he could figure out where I was with his hideous powers, I grabbed a stick from the fire and threw it as far as i could toward him. I was so small, it did not reach, but it did hit what remained of my mother, her hair going up in flames; a sick kindling that quickly spread from surface to surface until the whole room was alight.

A calm came over me; I knew that I would die, that this fire would consume me, but that he too would be destroyed, this man this False Father, this heretic.

He was screaming now, the fire traveling up his cloak. He was lashing out with his witchcraft, but it only made things worse as flaming furniture and pieces of the house were all that was left for him to throw around.

As I close my eyes and felt the heat on my skin, I became aware of another sound, barely audible through his screams…suddenly, the door to our home was kicked down, and an angel appeared.

She was tall, with white hair and shining black and red armor. Her face was an unreadable mask as she surveyed the destruction: the screaming man, the burning hunk of flesh that was my mother, and me, sitting on the floor by the hearth looking up at her, mirroring her blank expression.

Without taking her eyes off of me, she lifted her gun and shot my False Father in the knee, ending his futile movements and making his screams grow louder. He was now powerless to outrun the flames.

She strode over to me, the fire and the screams of the heretic of no bother. She stood over me, as though waiting for something.

I presented the butter knife to her, blood and bits of eye clung to its blade, and she smiled. She bent, picking me up easily with her other arm, her gun still held at the ready.

“Little Sister,” she looked at me, the flames dancing in her eyes, “Our Father has been looking for you.”

Arkanis Log 001

This is a mess I’ve gotten myself into. What I wouldn’t give to be back on Essen IV and away from these people. But here I am, serving Inquisitor Wroth… I suppose it’s better than being dead.

Anyways, we arrived at Vesuna Regis today to begin our work. While I headed off to find some information and possibly (the new drug) to test, I find out the rest of the group is causing trouble. I arrived back at our craft only to find a crowd incited against them, with Nor ready to light them on fire. Wonderful. A half crazed Adepta Sororitas wannabe. Nothing could be better than lighting a crowd on fire in the middle of the port. I had to save the situation before it spiraled out of control, so I grabbed an inciter that looked a bit out of place, handed her over, then grabbed some food. I’m not sure what the others did with the woman, nor do I particularly care.

Tomorrow I plan on heading out to the other side of the hive to see what information I can gleam, then head back below to see if my contact was able to secure any goods for me. Hopefully by the time I’m back the others will have found a way to be useful. Or maybe Nor will have half the hive burning. I think I’ll be more surprised if it’s the former rather than the latter.

Let’s hope I come out of this alive.


GM Overview Session #1
Welcome to Vesuna Regis!

>>> Access accepted. Welcome to Inquisitional Archives.

>>> Encryption key activated.

“C.S. two one bravo – Ursula One requesting inbound and clearance to Port Sektumos…”

“C.S. two one bravo this is Port Control stand by to engage Pilot Servitor 9XT and follow it in.”

“Ursula One roger that.”

Pilot Servitor Herwig maneuvered the cutter deftly and dropped in behind the Port Control drone. The pilot craft was all turbofans and auspexers dented and worn from many years of service and more than a few bumps with other poorly flown craft. It raced ahead of Ursula guiding the much larger cutter down through the thin atmosphere towards Vesuna Regis.

Traffic on Juno above its capital hive was what one would expect. The skies over the trade and bureaucratic center of Askellon were awash in ships, freighters, military and commercial craft. Clear lanes of sky traffic inbound and outbound could be seen as the fleet of pilot servitors slaved to the Administratum Port Control Division did their part to serve the Emperor.

Ursula closed in on the eight square kilometers of port Sektumos. With over 400,000 berths, numerous manufactorums, trade warehouses, longshore facilities, hangars, and all manner of businesses supporting visiting ships a thick haze of smog broken by the occasional light or spire tower hovered over the city.

In short order, Herwig flared the cutter and with a flash of steaming vents, sacred oil emissions and a gentle thump, Ursula I made planet fall settling neatly upon the pale yellow ferrocrete slab. Released from its service the Port Drone raced off for its next fare.

The landing slab rumbled sideways as it moved the Ursula out of the landing area and into its own very cozy shelf space right alongside a dozen other small craft packed neatly out of the way. The ships access ramp descended slowly and an emerald rune lit up the personnel exit hatch leading out of the docking bay into the port proper.

“Welcome to Vesuna Regis.”

Aboard Ursula the warband was camped out around the commons table arguing again. The team really needed to get it together. Benedictus moved through the hallway and into a bunk room finding a quieter place while he fished out his vox. The servitor Irmella rumbled quickly by and pushed on down the hall looking for anyplace else to be. For whatever reason she didn’t like being around people. Probably guilt over her penance.

Keying in the appropriate rune sequence, Benedictus raised an old contact at Arbiter central command. With the pleasantries aside and the cover intact Benedictus caught up with his old buddy. He mentioned his new job as a bodyguard for the Ministorum and their purpose on Juno. For a promise of buying an ale and knocking back a few drinks to catch up on old times, Bendictus had secured an invite to a crime scene that the Ministorum should definitely look at in its Morality Health Check.

Tomorrow morning, at the Ninth Bell of Morn…bring the team to Arbites Central and meet up with Max Gant. The others were still arguing when Benedictus came out of the bunk room and stepped outside for a smoke.


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