Ahh Xanga like the old toy lost under the couch for so long I managed to pick you back up. Unsure of just what I should do with you I hope beyond that you will somehow manage to capture my interest again but can things ever be as they were. I am a little older, maybe a little wiser, and yes things have changed quite a bit since last we met. I am married now with a house and you well you have all of the sudden become much more complicated and advanced. I am not sure if we will ever had what we once did but still for old times sake I will try a pick you back up from time to time, if nothing else to help myself remember what I was before I was forced to pretend I am an adult.

Azren awoke to  a world of agony and sweltering heat. For a single paniced moment he thought he he might have been in Hell, feeling pain course through his fevered body and certain he heard unearthly screams. He had fearfully opened his eyes, silently praying he would not looking upon the Prison of the Damned. To his momentary relief he found himself to not be in Hell, but the realization of where he actually was was not much better. It was a vast underground cavern, so massive that its ceiling was hid by shadows despite an abundance of light. All the inquisitor could see at the moment was a wall of the immense cave across which were scrawled obscene murals of terrible alien beings from the ravening nightmares of a madmen. Impossible creatures slithered and coiled about the chamber wall, beneath a glistening coat of slime. They took many inhuman shapes from three legged creatures with leech like mouthes to towering beings that seemed to be composed of only writhing tentacles and unblinking eyes. Azren tried to turn away from the blasphemous sight only to find he was bound to the spot. He had been stripped naked and chained with cruel, barbed manacles that held his body stretched tight, pulling hands upward and feet apart. Every move he made drove the sharp hooks deeper into his flesh, eliciting a cry of pain from the battered inquisitor.

"Well that explains the pain and the screams,"he said grimly, his mouth feeling dry as ash.

From somewhere behind him Azren heard the soft slap of bare feet on stone, and soon a narrow shadow fell across his broad shoulders. A voice that was chillingly familiar spoke into the inquisitor's ear.

"Are they not magnificent? Though I have seen them a thousand times I still marvel at their beauty. They are even more majestic when you see them in real life."

Azren strained his neck to see the fine-boned face of the planetary governor, Pelgial Admonus. The treacherous whelp of a man stared at the ghastly murals with sincere adoration, and the inquisitor wished dearly that could have mustered enough moisture in his mouth to spit in the unveiled heretic's face. Unfortunately this was not the case so he simply clenched his jaw in frustration and defiance.

Pelgial stared for many  minutes before blinking suddenly and looking down at Azren as if just noticing him. "My dear Inquisitor Schull, it seems you bit off a little more than you could chew."

Azren kept his jaw clenched, refusing to respondent to the taunts of his captor. No point in giving him the satisfaction.

The governor laughed to himself then put his hand upon the inquisitor's muscular shoulder, making Azren tense with pent-up rage despite himself.. Again Pelgial chortled in sickening good humor.

"Oh, come now Azren no need to get so uptight. I am no daemon or witch for you to fear and hate. I am but a simple man who has been chosen to do great things, not so unlike yourself."

In spite of his better judgement Azren let a low growl rumble in his chest at the suggestion.

Governor Admonus looked at the captive  witchhunter with mock hurt, "Now that is just rude! Here I am being pleasant and you take offence at the slightest insinuation. Really you need not be so touchy, but then again I understand how that could be an affront to your pride."

A wicked smile played across the traitor's impish features as he said, "Forgive me, Inquisitor Schull, I forget my place. How could I dare equate myself with the great Hammer of Witches, Azren Darius Schull, the Purger of Tarch, and most zealous member of the mighty Ordo Hereticus. Forgive my foolish presumption."

The heretical ruler giggled cruelly at his own mockery, and Azren ground his teeth together to keep himself form flying into an impotent rage. Focus he, he must focus!

The traitor slid out of Azren's field of vision dragging his finger lightly across Azren's naked skin, making the inquisitor shiver with disgust. The reaction brought a fresh surge of pain from the manacles, and he had to bite back another scream of pain. To his left the witchhunter heard the governor's voice, but he still could not see the hated wretch. 

"I'm sure you are wondering about what this whole fiasco is about, hmmm? You inquisitors are a curious bunch, but I suppose that just comes with the job."

There was a grind of stone upon stone and a new wave of pain coursed through Azren's body as he slowly began to rotate, pulled by his ravaged and chained limbs. He clamped his jaws shut to muffle a cry of anguish, but also managed to bite off a piece of his inner cheek. The coppery taste of fresh blood mixed with the acrid sensations of bile and dried blood. Pelgial spoke as the inquisitor was being turned, thought Azren fought to hear him through the pain. 

"I know it might seem all a little overdramatic, but I think you deserve it after the good show you made in hunting down my bait," another malevolent titter then, "You seem I am a good sport after all. You can't deny me that!"

The rest of cavern sprawled out before the witchhunter in all its blasphemous glory. It was trapezoidal room which was capped by a fathomless black pool and all the walls were covered in the vile murals and glistening slime. Across the floor were carved strange slithering sigils that seemed to offend reality with their very existence. It hurt Azren's eyes just to look at them. There were blank circles of stone that rose an foot or so out of the floor, and upon each sprawled a single placed gory corpses. Each corpse's chest was cracked open and the inquisitor was fairly certain their hearts had been torn out. A lone slab of stone sat right in front of the rippling black pool and was conspicuously empty. The witchhunter was pretty sure he knew who would be occupying that space.

Pelgial Admonus stood by next to a winch of carved stone flanked on either side by his two remaining body guards. he gestured grandly to the chamber before him, his arms sweeping  out to encompass the titanic cavern.

"Behold, the Chamber of Antiquity, the Tomb of Rebirth! Wrought aeons ago by those who first worshipped the Ancient Gods of the Starry Sea, it has been prophesied that this was where the Old Lords would first arise to begin the Age of Reclamation. When the stars were properly aligned and the portents of time were in order they are to be awakened by their favored disciples. Ever since our people came to this world and learned its secrets of antiquity we have waited patiently for this day to come. Now those who were ancient at the birth of the stars shall return to bring forth their reckoning! This is the hour in which the Great Sleepers awake!"

In that moment Matthias knew he was dead. He was not strong enough to wrestle free from Mengel's grasp and he knew would not be swift enough to evade the lasbolt which would abruptly end his life. His head swam with the heady realization of his own end, and he felt a strange detachment as he realized that there was nothing he could do. This was it, and he could only choose how he approached this doom. He squared his shoulders and drew himself up to his full height. He would not cower or beg like a craven heretic. No he was a servant of the Emperor, and he would die giving testament to the greatness of the One he served. Using every ounce of his will, the savant kept his voice steady as he looked his murderer straight in his fishy eyes.

"I die in the service of the Emperor. I go to be at his side."

A sickening gargling which Matthias guessed to be laughter came from the bloated creature, "The Old Lords begin to awaken and they will cast down your infantile Empire. They were ancient when your whelp of an Emperor was sucking milk from his mother's tit They slept long, but now they will arise and reward those who are loyal to them."

Another fit of foul laughter was vomited from the General's over-wide mouth.

Matthias did not blanch before the despicable creature's taunting, even though he felt Mengel's grip tighten painfully as he spoke. "End this Hallenstad, and hasten the day when you will writhe in the fires of judgment and damnation."

Spittle flecked Matthias' scholarly robes as the revealed traitor ranted at the savant that towered over him, "I will end this when I want, and I don't fear your condemnation. You damn misguided fools can't imagine the glory that is the Gods of the Starry Sea, nor can you comprehend their great plan."The pistol bobbed up and down as the maddened heretic vented his fury at his captive, "Your words do not scare me proud little scholar. When They have awakened fully I will be as a god among mere men and your Imperium will be an insect for me to crush and devour."

A cold smirk came to Matthias' lips and he laughed derisively in the madman's face, "I think the man doest protest to strongly!"

Shaking with barely restrained rage Hallenstad struggled to hold the las pistol levelly at the disdainful savant, but Matthias could see the flicker of fear. His warbling voice was shrill with hate "Damn you Matthias! Damn you and your Inquisition and your Emperor!"

Matthias would not flinch in the face of his doom, and prepared to speak his final words. With heavy certainty he looked the quivering general in the eye and said, "Yours will be the damnation, general."

The traitor shrieked with ire and Matthias closed his eyes prepared to meet the Emperor. The crack of las fire snap through the air and burning illumination shined through Matthias' sealed eyelids, followed by a wailing cry.  Two more sharp snaps of ionized air rapidly tore through the air and Matthias felt warm moisture across the back of his neck and shoulders. Mengel's grasp slid from his shoulder and the savant heard a pair of heavy thumps. The scribe stood unwilling to open his eyes, waiting for the voice of the Emperor to bid him come forth. There was nothing, and then an angry shout blasted into his right ear.

"Frakk it Matthias, move!"

The savant opened a single eye to see the scarred face of Sculler in front of him, pinched with anxiety. Matthias stood confused for a moment then felt a none to gentle hand shoving him toward the back of the command truck. He practically tumbled over something behind him, as he snapped back into reality. That something was Mengel's corpse its head an impacted mess. Before him stood a blood stained Sculler, the ex-guardsman straddling Hallenstad's body ravaged body. The doors of the truck cab whined opened disgorging two angry and shocked troopers. With liquid speed and efficiency Sculler swiveled around and aimed downward, snapping off twin kill shots.

The veteran soldier whirled around to face Matthias anger etched along the jagged scars on his face, "Warp take you Matthias, move it!"

Still fumbling and numb the savant began to climb out the back of the truck, angry shouts rising from the PDF vehicles around them. As he landed roughly upon the gravelly turf, Matthias heard Sculler ripping out another series of shots from his hellgun before he leapt out of the truck bed. The hot-blooded warrior landed with the predatory grace of a jungle cat, as angry weapons fire flew by in his wake. Sculler shouldered his weapon and began yanking off grenades from his belt.

He did not even look at Matthias as he yelled above the enemy salvo while he cranked the timer rings around the base of two krak grenades. "I'm tossin' these babies then we wait two seconds, got it two! then we run like were being chased by a daemon."

Not waiting for confirmation Sculler leapt from within the shadow of the truck. Moving like a whirling dervish he spun and sent the two explosives sailing toward the nearest combat truck on either side. Like a frightened animal the ex-guardsman leapt back into the shade of the truck, enemy fire perforating the ground where he once stood.

Matthias thought he heard someone scream "Grenade!" in the two eternal seconds before they sprinted from cover, but he would never truly know. All he did know was that as they took of he heard the chatter of enemy autoguns and a single dull whump from a heavy bolter before the world around him erupted with the thunder of explosions, the rushing of expanding flames, and the screech of tortured metal. In the small detached part of his mind the scholar wondered if it was anything like what entering hell sounded like. Most of him however focused upon keeping close to Scullers retreating backside as they ran off into the night.

 

The young tech priestess knew something was wrong the second she spotted the governor's personal guards marching through the hangar archway. There was something different about them now, something that had changed since they had first greeted the inquisitor at planet-fall. They moved with a precision and efficiency which was so very much different from their slovenly display beforehand. It had been completely appalling at the time, and it had been shocking that the Governor of this planet would allow such a wanton lack of discipline be shown to a member of the feared Inquisition. The lifesaving suspicion that was engrained into all members of the Ordo Hereticus was now setting off alarms in her mind. With swift, calculated efficiency she closed all access hatches, and began to run targeting diagnostic on weapon turrets. No harm in being ready for the worse.

The squad came  to a sharp halt before the sealed vessel, then the sergeant that lead the procession stepped forward. His face was masked behind the skull-like visor of his helmet which obviously contained voice-modifiers as he spoke with an inhumanly deep voice, "Place all combat systems on standby and prepare to be boarded!"

Brenaya de'Morgas activated the comm stud on her left temple and accessed the ships speaker system. Her soft voice blared out of the exterior speakers as she spoke, "Under whose authority?"

Through the vid-screens in the cockpit and her view from the forward viewport the augmented young woman could see the well-armed soldiers tense. The spectral analysis lenses she wore allowed her to watch their heat auras rise slightly as their muscles tightened and she watched as their pheromone clouds shifted agitatedly. The skeletal masked sergeant straightened ever so slightly and then spoke.

"By the authority of Governor Jubal Shandree!"

"I was not under the impression that the Inquisition was under the sway of a planetary governor."

"This is your last chance! Power down and surrender yourself to the custody of the Governor or face the consequences!"

"You realize you are threatening a member of the Inquisition and thereby pronouncing hostile intent towards the Ordo Hereticus and the Emperor himself?"

 The sergeant drew his chainsword and roared out to his men, "Commandeer this vessel in the name of the Old Lords! Glory to the Ancient Gods of the Starry Sea!"

With amazing alacrity considering their heavy, finned body armor the governor's troopers drew their weapons. Most carried long barreled hellguns which would be useless against the ships hull plating but one of their number possessed a melta-gun. The potent thermal weapon could cut through the heaviest tank armor with ease, and Brenaya was not about to let her precious ship be damaged by these treacherous heretics.

The turret mounted autocannons that hung beneath the ship's heavy snout swiveled in unison to glare down at the encroaching soldiers, before roaring to life. Like a scythe to wheat the foolish traitors were sliced down by the powerful salvo. The spirited tech priest gave a whoop of victory that was quickly doused as screaming rocket emerged from out of the hangar door's shadow. The wailing projectile slammed into forward plating of the ship, exploding in a bright plume of flame. The vessel shook slightly beneath the force of the blow, but little damage was done. The autocannons barked back to life as they hosed down the area where the missile had originated from, and Brenaya began to prep the ship to take off. While, that first missile had not done much damage against the heavy armor of the forward plating, there was no guarantee that future shots would be so ill aimed. One good blast to the engine cluster and she would be virtually grounded. The long metallic digits of her left hand played across the controls like a tap dancing spider, as her right hand began to put the security harness in place.

The thrusters engaged and the ship began to lift into the air. More soldiers in the heavy, finned armor of the Governor's guard began to pour into the hangar bay their hellguns functioning as little more than angry flashlights. Another missile zoomed out from the darkness, but it was even aimed even worse than the first, and zipped harmlessly underneath the rising metal leviathan. The ship lifted began to back out of the cliff-side hangar, its autocannons spitting out sporadic farewells.

As she cleared the hangar and made off across the choppy waves, tech-priestess de'Morgas attempted to reach Azren on her long-range vox unit. Nothing, but impenetrable static met her attempts as she rapidly ran through a cycle of variable frequencies. The icy claws of panic began to scratch at the pit of her stomach, as she racked her brain to think of an explanation. Either Azren and his whole retinue were dead, or something was doing an expert job of jamming all communication frequencies. Neither thought was very reassuring.

Incoming vessel alarms sounded, shocking the tech-priestess out of her belabored revelry. She raised an eye to the overhead sensor readouts. Two small vessels closing fast: air superiority fighters. All foreboding thoughts and worries abandoned in the demanding necessities of aerial combat, Brenaya de'Morgas prepared herself for a bumpy flight.