Glorificus Apocalyptica

[Ferrus Manus]

Here's the beginning of something I'm writing. Enjoy, C&C welcome.

 

Glorificus Apocalyptica

 

The Time of Ending is upon us!

The Horsemen ride, carrying corruption and death like a cloak.

Soon the Imperium will fall to Chaos

Unless His Angels can destroy the Four before the Eye opens.

++ Prophecy of the Heretical Seer Almun. Executed 997.M41 ++

 

Chapter 1

 

The dusty streets were deserted. The man moved down the street, the shadows veiling his presence. He had a mission to complete, the fewer complications the better. In his experience the quicker a job was done, the fewer complications there were. The sun was starting to rise, melting the shadows a way, reveling the man’s presence in the street. In the distance a bird crowed, several others joined it in chorus. Time was running out, the man began to run. He bounded down the streets, spearing toward the town’s central keep, as he went people began to leave their houses, their faces a mask of shock, as they saw what could only be described as a beggar racing down the street.

 

As the man came to the keep’s gates two guards blocked his way. Each was a grizzled veteran, former members of the Imperial Guard; professional soldiers. “What is your business?” The man was silent. “I repeat, what is your business in the castle?” The man smiled.

“I am here to preach the word of the God-Emperor to his majesty, the Governor. Surely that is no crime?” The guards laughed, it was a cold, callous snicker. One of the guards moved toward the man, drawing his weapon. “The Emperor is no more than a rotting corpse upon a throne; he no longer cares for his people. We are free of such shackles.”

“Then, I’m afraid; this world is damned, and your souls with it.” The guard moved in and hammered the butt of his blade into the vagabond’s chest; winding him.

“No, my friend. We are free. It is you who are damned. Join us, and your soul maybe saved. Maybe.” The guard emphasized the final word. The man got up, clutching his chest. “I’m afraid I must, disagree.” He pulled a medallion from under his shirt. The two guards gasped and began to run. They didn’t get far; two pistol shots sounded and spurts of crimson littered the ground. The guard’s attacker moved further up toward the keep, now irritated, events were not going to plan.

 

He moved up the dusty track cautiously; intending to only take on move life that day. The blood of innocents never washed off, he knew that from experience. Many of his ilk considered him weak for doing so. He knew they were wrong, if the necessity came he could be as steely as his sheathed blade. As he came over the hill another unit of guardsmen were crouched down, next to a tree, laughing and joking with each other. If they didn’t challenge him they could stay that way.

 

Unfortunately they didn’t; “Oi! Wha’ you doing? Only the Gov’na’s men are allowed back here. Go away.” He ignored them and kept walking. “Listen, turn around now or we’ll get serious.” He smiled, the funny thing was the guard meant it. “Right tha’sit get ‘im lads.” The guards came in, five on one – how could they lose? He knew he couldn’t win, maybe he could work this to his advantage? Like a flash of lightning a plan formed in his mind.

 

“For the Emperor!” He proclaimed boldly, the guards were taken back by the cry. They came in with polearms, he ducked and blocked the first few, before another swing caught him across the shoulders. He hit the floor, and the guards began hammering into his ribs, winding him. When they finally stopped, they picked him up and two of them began dragging him away. “Wait, take him to the castle. I ‘spect the Gov’na will want to have a chat with ‘im.”

 

The doors creaked open, revealing two guards dragging a vagabond behind them. The man didn’t struggle; he allowed himself to be pulled forward. The guards brought the man to the foot of the throne and released him. One of them smashed him staff into the man’s back, making him fall onto his stomach, and then they moved to flank the throne. The vagabond stood up, his scarf and hat had fallen away revealing his face; he was young, not much older than his second decade. But what drew everyone’s eye was the blood red Aquila tattoo above his left eye. The man on the throne pulled himself forward, his face became visible. “So, you have openly declared your allegiances to Him. You know that is a crime punishable by death.” It wasn’t a question; it was a simple statement of fact. The vagrant laughed “I may die, but the pain will be nothing compared to your fate, traitor. You are eternally damned.” He punctuated his sentence by spitting in the face of the enthroned man.

 

The man wiped the spit from his face and laughed. “Only when his lapdogs come for me, but by then it will be too late.”

“Be careful, governor, that day may come sooner than you wish.” The vagabond reached down his jacket and pulled out a necklace; hooked on it was a stylized ‘I.’ Fear crept across the governor’s face. “Kill him! Kill him now!” His guards rushed at the Inquisitor, spears leveled. The Inquisitor drew his Hell Pistol, concealed within his cloak, and fired. The first guard’s face disappeared; a bloody hole took its place. The second guard came in and slashed at the Inquisitor. He dived out of the way before lunging for his attacker. He barreled into the guard, knocking him to the floor. Using the flat of his palm he punched him in the sternum, the guard fell flat. He died as his neck was snapped in two.

 

The Inquisitor turned to face the governor; he studied him with a grave face. “I, Lord Inquisitor Malthis of His Holiness’ Inquisition name you traitor. Governor Alect I judge you guilty of heresy against the Emperor. This is the gravest crime you can commit. I am not fit to punish you; I leave that to his Holiness, the Emperor of Mankind. I relieve you of your duty.” Malthis smiled. “Only in death does duty end, Alect.” The governor’s life ended as Malthis leveled his Hell Pistol and pulled the trigger. He turned to face the rest of the congregation. “I declare this world Corruptus Extremis. You will submit to Inquisitorial Law or die.” The Inquisitor pressed a button on his vambrace, opening a vox link. “The governor is dead, deploy the Guard. Oh, and Remis, pull me back up. We have another world to visit.” Malthis vanished from the throne room in a burst of white light, he teleported back onto his star ship.

 

+++

 

The room stank of ozone. That meant the arrival of his master. Augustin waited patiently, in the corner; well away from the looks and stares of the adepts. He knew they were a necessity, but they irritated him; especially when they gawped at him. Then, they reminded him of the blind mutants that he sought to destroy. He had mentioned it to Malthis once; he smiled as the thought came to him. He still had the scars to prove that one.

 

With a flash of white light Malthis appeared in the middle of the room. “How’d it go?” Malthis looked over. “The traitor is dead,” he replied. A smile danced across Augustin’s face, “Another one bites the dust, then eh. Well, that is of course if you didn’t blow this ones’ head off?”

“You’ll be pleased to know that I didn’t this time. I got him in the chest.”

“Well, that makes a change,” jibed Augustin, as he mimicked shock.

“Where’s Remis? We have another world to visit.” Augustin became suddenly serious.

“He’s at the bridge, where are we going?” They both began to move down the corridor, the overhead lights dimly lighting the way. “I’ve hear a rumour, that’s all. I just want to investigate. After all, that’s my job isn’t it?” Augustin laughed.

“You made a joke, today’s full of surprises. What was the rumour?”

“It’s nothing, nothing for you to worry about.”

 

Augustin decided not to press the issue. He’d been around Malthis long enough to know when to stop. They walked in silence for a few more minutes until they got the barges’ command bridge. Malthis placed his hand upon the scanner and waited as the machine scanned his fingerprints to ensure it was him. The door to the bridge slid open, a spray of condensed air washed over them. “Commander on the bridge,” informed the toneless voice of the serf. Malthis bowed and made the sign of the Aquila before moving toward the command deck. Remis was waiting for him.

 

Remis, Commander of the Household Soldiery; and Commander of the Fleet in Malthis’ absence. He was a tall man; he dwarfed the newly arrived pair. His white carapace armour was polished to a shine. There was an embossed ‘I’ on the centre of his breastplate, standing proud and unashamed. Even when unarmed he was dangerous, however, Augustin knew he was never unarmed. Remis hid his weapons around his sides, covered by his black cape. As the Inquisitor moved beside him he gave him a nod of respect. “Remis, my friend,” said Malthis with a smile, whether it was forced or not Augustin couldn’t tell, they had an awkward relationship. Remis would often make snide comments toward Malthis and himself. Augustin often asked why Malthis kept him around, and more importantly; why he trusted him with his life. Each time Malthis replied “Because he keeps me honest.” Augustin always laughed it off with “I thought that was my job?”

 

“The traitor is dead. But now the Emperor’s will calls us to other places. This time is the Kayron System, close to the Imperium’s centre. It will be the closest I have been to home since I first left, fifteen years ago.” Sadness came over Malthis. It was his dream to return home in a shower of glory as a faithful servant of the Emperor. Unfortunately, he knew better than anyone that only in death did duty end. “Don’t be so nostalgic, Terra was never your home. You’ve always been alone and you know it,” taunted Remis. Augustin’s face was in shock. Never had Remis dared to mock Malthis when it came to his homeworld. It was a tender subject with the Inquisitor. Augustin didn’t know the full story, but Malthis’ family was killed by a band of zealots. Malthis had never known why. He had been taken in by the Inquisitor Damicus, who had been like a father to him. That was why Malthis was such a young man when he gained the rank of Inquisitor; he had been in the business for his entire life. Augustin looked at Malthis. He was sure he saw a hint of hurt on his face. If he had Malthis instantly quashed it, not wanting to show weakness.

 

“That is immaterial. The point is that we have the Emperor’s work to do, and we shall do it without quarrel.” Malthis turned to the Navigator. “Set a course for the Kayron system. I want to be there as soon as humanly possible.” The Navigator nodded and began to setting the ships’ course. “Remis, I’ll leave you in charge here. You seem to know what you’re doing.” With that Malthis walked away. Augustin glanced at Remis, only to see his smile, and then followed his master. Augustin got to the door and Malthis wasn’t there. Obviously, he wanted to be alone.

 

*

 

Malthis breathed heavily, focusing his mind. The training servitors came close, their powered servos whined as they moved. He was stripped to the waist, his body was covered in sweat; this was what seemed like the hundredth time he had run this drill since he had left the bridge. He craved the focus that combat brought him. He had to admit, Remis’ comments had shaken him; they were true but they brought back a lot of painful memories. The trial of combat halted these thoughts, purging the Emperor’s enemies brought him internal solace. That was why he never stopped. He always hunted, hunted the heretics and traitors who sort to bring down the very Imperium he protected.

 

He focused his thoughts once more, watching the drones every movement. Their every movement he became aware of. As one of the drones took another step he attacked, he brought he blade down in a curving arch; the drone blocked using the metal of its’ forearm. He kneed the drone in the face; it was almost pointless; metal didn’t break for flesh, however it did daze the drone for long enough for him to move away – making sure that he wasn’t attacked from behind by its metal counterpart. Malthis slashed behind him, he felt the powered blade cut through metal and rubber. He turned and finished the job; the blade effortlessly cutting through the servitor’s head. The thing died silently. One down, one to go, he thought.

[Tyrannicide]

I quite like it Ferrus. I think you've done a good job setting up a foundation for more to this story. I think Malthis is a very solid character and a likable one, at that.

 

He barreled into him, knocking his to the floor.

'His' should be edited to say 'him'. Not only that, but using him twice and repeating yourself in the sentence is a little hard for the reader to follow. I'd change the second 'him' to something more broad like 'traitor' for example.

 

I'm looking forward to more and hopefully you continue this story. :)

[Ferrus Manus]

Yes, I'm looking to write more hence the prophesy at the top. Thanks for the crit. Edited version is up.

[Tyrannicide]

Hmm. I think this Augstin is quite the star of the show, now give us some more to go by! :)

[Ferrus Manus]

Hah. Thought you might like him :) Hopefully I'm going to updating this fairly frequently, so keep an eye out.

[Brother Captain Andrecus]

This is great! I especially like the character development you've set up, with Remis' nasty attitude.

 

Can't wait to read more!