Inferno Guard I

[Chapter Master Onyxius]

Welcome to the Inferno Guard I.

This is a story (short story novel) that mainly concentrates on a Captain of my DIY Chapter Inferno Guard. his name is infernius Decimus and this will be his story of his trial when he was a novitiate in the Inferno Guard. Now this all takes place on the chapters home world, Gaia.

 

Now this the short story novel I am writing about, and well it is inspired my Lady_Canoness's Inquisitor Godwyn. Now sit back and enjoy. This is only the prologue and the first part, that i have achieved.

 

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Indoctrination & Brotherhood:

 

Prologue:

In silence, only truth remains.

 

But to find it; ah, there is the task. For, one must ask himself, what place is truly silent? Where can the absolute stillness of tranquility be found?

 

The question was a common one placed to the neophytes at the very start of their indoctrination, and it was a rare aspirant who showed the wisdom to come even close to the correct answer. This rare aspirants name was Infernius Decimus.

 

Many would look to the stars, through the portals of the great ebon-hulled craft they found themselves aboard, and they would point to the void. Out there, they would say.

In the airless dark, there is silence. No atmosphere to carry the vibrations of sound, no passage there for voice nor shout nor scream. The void is silence, they would say.

 

And they would be corrected.For even where there is no air to breathe, there is still clamour, the … chaos, as it were.

 

Even there, broadcast across wavelengths that unaugmented humans could not perceive, there was the riot of cosmic radiation and constant rumble of the universe’s great stellar engines as it turned and aged. Even darkness itself has sound, if one had the ears with wich to hear it.

 

So then. The question again. Where is silence?

 

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the trial:

 

10 years later.

 

He had been circling for eight months. Eight months, sixteen identities, most of them so authentic they had fooled the biometric scans of his mentors.

 

He’d faked out three blind trails to throw them off his scent, one into barbark’s fiefs, one to Karol and the Nord Reaches, and the other a meandering route down through the Tirol to the Shrine of the Aquila overlooking the Abyss of Nevershroud. He’d overwintered in Helscape Hive, and crossed the Fire Sea by cargo spinner during the first week of the ice-ebb. At Bilhorod, he had turned back on himself to lose an unwanted tail.

 

He had spent three weeks hiding in a disused manufactorum in Hive Caspius, preparing his next move. Eight months; a little long for a trail of Astartes recruits, but then he was playing it out carefully, synchronizing his movements with global patterns, following trade routes, inter-provincial traffic and seasonal labour migrations. He was one hundred percent certain they didn’t have an orbital grid fix for him, and he was fairly confident they didn’t even have an approximate.

 

There’d been no one on his heels since Hive Caspius. He trekked up-country through Balurian, mostly on foot, sometimes stealing a lift on transports, and crossed the border into the Imperial Territory three hundred and three days after he had set out.

 

 

so this is as far I have gotten, I will post more soon, I promise, pls C&C when you read this, that would be a great motivator

[Chapter Master Onyxius]

continuation:

 

The Top of the world had changed in eight months. An entire peak had disappeared from the blinding skyline, a gap at odds with his memories, nagging like a missing tooth. The high-altitude air smelled of pitch, molten alloys and shaved stone. Chapter Master Domonus’s warrior engineers were crafting their poliorcretics, armouring the highest and most robust steeples of the Earth. The smell of pitch, alloy and stone was the smell of approaching war. Its fragmented notes hung on the bright air of the old Cataria mountains.

 

The scenery was so white it scorched his eyes, and he was glad of his glare-goggles. A few degrees below zero, the air was like glass, and the sun like a fusion torch in the blue sky. Perfect snows coated the peaks and the ascents, painfully white, achingly empty. He had considered the south his best option, Boethiah and the towering central Precinct, but as he approached he realized how much things had changed. Security, which had cinched up as tight as a penitent’s cilice. The coming war had troubled the guards on the gates, quadrupled and gun nests and automated weapon blisters, and multiplied the biometric sensors a hundredfold.

 

Vast workcrews if migrant labourers, serving the orders of the Mihan Guilds, had gathered around the Palace: their camps, their workings, their very bodies staining the high snows green and black and red like algae growth.

 

Security is tighter, but there are millions more faces to watch.

 

He observed the labour hosts for six days, eschewing his plans for the south and turning north instead, following the high pastures and walking trails over onto the plateau, keeping the toiling hosts in view. Constant streams flowed down the snowy valleys and passes from Kalun: columns of fresh workers, and convoys of cargo and building materials from the Xiang mines. The columns looked like rivers of slow, dark meltwater, or racing black glaciers. Where the influx streams met the worker armies, temporary cities sprouted in the shadows of the immense walls, habitant towns and canvas metropli, accommodating the migrants, corralling their pack of animals and servitors, seeing to their needs of food and water and medicine.

 

The unloaded materials: timber, pig, alloy, mule steel, ores and ballast, stacked up around the camp cities like slag heaps. Hoist cranes and magnificent derricks lifted pallets of materials up over the walls. Horns snorted and echoed around the high valleys. Sometimes, he just sat and looked at the Palace as if it was the most wonderful thing in creation. It probably wasn’t. there were undoubtedly feats of ancient, inhuman architecture on forgotten, scattered worlds that dwarfed it, or eclipsed it in stupendous scale or awe-inspiring scope. The architecture was not the point. It was the idea of the Palace that made it the most wonderful thing. It was the inner notion, the concept that made flesh.

 

The Palace was vast, beautiful, the greatest mountain range on Gaia refashioned into a residence and a capital, and now, belatedly, a fortress.