All I can say is its here! I've worked on this one a little harder and for a little longer than the others. Much of the first few episodes of this part have been drastically changed from what I had origionally written down. I hope you guys love it as much as you've loved the series thus far.


Daemonhost - Part III
Part: I


Come to us...we beckon you...come to us where we lay in darkness...we are awaiting your arrival...come and be one with us...sleep with us...draw upon us....

This call whispered in Inquisitor Adrien Lucien's ear, tantalizing his senses. He felt himself drawn by these voices as they spoke to him, calling him forth, pulling him like a puppet caught on string. They begged him to join them, lay with them, become one with them. And so come Lucien did.

Alone the Inquisitor walked down a dark corridor, the calm air undisturbed by his movements. He moved slowly and gracefully, as if he were in no particular hurry. Yet his muscles ached, and his veins were clearly visible under his taught and pale skin. A pattern of deep scars began to etch their way across his face and body, like they had been hidden beneath his skin and were now coming to the surface. No longer did he look young and handsome, but scarred and hideous. His red of his eyes had spread from his pupils, which were now slitted to give him the visage of a crimson eyed daemon. Yet he held himself up proudly as he moved down this black corridor. He wore his black silk garments, his long hair done back with a black ribbon behind his head, falling onto his back.

Ahead of him, at the end of the corridor could be seen a solid metal wall. When he reached it he placed one ugly hand upon it, and as if by magic the wall dispersed like the metal had simply melted away. Lucien then passed the thresh hold into his inner sanctum, his home, the place of his deepest secrets. The wall became whole again behind Lucien, and he stood now in a pitch black chamber. A chamber that held the truth to why Lucien had become radical, and how he had become what he was now.

When his eye adjusted to the light, he looked around at the inside of his crypt. He now saw everything in red. The chamber was vast, every surface made of stainless metal. At the centre of the room was a metal sarcophagus, raised on a small podium. Clamps rose from beside the sarcophagus and clamped the lid shut like giant fingers, and an Inquisition symbol was engraved in the metal. The walls of the room rose high above Lucien's head, silver coffins laying in wide gaps in the smooth metal. Some of these were empty, awaiting an occupant, others housed the sleeping bodies of Lucien's victims.

In this chamber they now rested, eternally at peace within the walls of their master's inner sanctum. Lucien's last place of rest. With a great sigh, the radical Inquisitor approached the sarcophagus in the centre of the room.

Join us...rest with us...relax your mortal flesh...rest your immortal soul...become one with us...sleep with us...die with us

The silence of the chamber was pressing, yet these voices spoke to Lucien as if someone whispered in his ear. Though not a sound was to be heard, this chamber was alive with the souls of the dead. Here Lucien felt totally at peace, walking amongst the coffins of those who had sacrificed their lives for him. Those who gave their blood to the lips of the Inquisitor, so that he may live but a day longer.

At a silent command, the claw like clamps around the sarcophagus slid back slowly. The lid hissed as it opened to one side, and like a tired old man, Lucien lowered himself into the confines of the coffin. The lid then closed above him, confiding him to the dark enclosed space of his crypt.



Seyton stood aboard the bridge of the Exorcist class cruiser, pacing back and forth with his metal heels clicking on a polished surface. The wide view port opened out into the bleak vacuum of space in front of him, the tiny stars winking at him through the thick reinforced glass. He did not wink back, and only glared out at them, betraying no emotion in his dark eyes. Officers of the bridge worked at their stations all around the Acolyte, the seniors among them walking from panel to panel overseeing the duties of the officers under them. They sometimes spoke in hushed voices or made hand signals to each other, but otherwise the bridge was almost entirely silent. Servitors bustled about carrying out their many tasks, and the Tech Priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus watched over them. The full extent of the bridge rose several hundred feet above Seyton, officers walked slowly over ramparts and ledges.

To a blind eye this scene would have looked like the typical bridge of an Imperial capital ship. Apart from Seyton himself, who stalked the captains podium in his long black robes, nothing looked out of place. Each and every officer wore their Imperial uniform correctly, their decorations and badges glinting proudly on their chests. Loyal servants to the Emperor they were, or so they thought.

Not even the most senior officers of Lucien's vessel knew the true intents of their master, or the extent of his treachery. The ship as they knew it, Divine Nemesis it was named, was a vessel of the Adeptus Mechanicus, currently in the the service of the Ordo Malleus. Commanded by his Divine Majesties loyal servant, Inquisitor Lucien.

This charade was exactly to Lucien's liking. As an Inquisitor, he thoroughly enjoyed the power to command loyalty from any arm of the Imperium he desired. This is how he had gained control of this magnificent vessel, and unlike the lords of the Chaos fleets Lucien did not require fear to command his officers. They would serve him totally and unquestioningly, simply because of his rank. They would even bring their weapons to bear upon fellow Imperials if their Inquisitor lord demanded it, reduce small cities on a planet to ashes and flame from an orbital bombardment, killing thousands of proclaimed 'heretics'. They would do combat with fellow Imperial war ships, raid freight vessels for fresh supplies and bodies to keep the ship running.

Lucien kept the crew of his ship clenched in the palm of his hand, all because he had once been an Inquisitor of the Ordo Malleus. Of course there were those who would from time to time question Lucien's motives. Some who claimed to have seen the true face their master, and how he had lead this vessel into the clutches of chaos. Such, different minded individuals did not survive for long. Lucien had to simply point his finger, and utter a single word to have his victim murdered by his comrades in cold blood. There was not one alive who would question the word of an Inquisitor, against the word of another lesser servant to the Emperor. Lucien's words aboard this ship, were law.

Seyton smiled to himself as he realized that this power could one day be his. The ability to command an entire battle ship of the Imperium, and send it crashing down upon ones enemies. All this could be Seyton's, when Lucien passed, and the Acolyte succeeded him.

Of course Lucien, being the radical he was, loved the presence of chaos about him. He relished in the immortal powers of the imaterium, bathing in the glory that had been bestowed upon him by the four deities of the warp. The Inquisitor kept a very close group of followers, many of whom were his servants during his loyalty to the Imperium. Most were psykers, and all were in one way or another tainted by the energies of chaos. They would aid him in his studies, adding their deep and intricate knowledge to their masters. Those who were particularly loyal or useful, or plain dangerous would follow Lucien into combat on his various ventures. And others, some not even from this select group of cultists, would have the honour of laying down their lives to feed their masters enduring hunger for human blood.

It was a disgusting practice, though Seyton. He enjoyed the thrill of battle, the spray of his enemies blood across his face, and the tortured screams of his victims. But to consume the life fluids of another, to survive much less for enjoyment, was a prospect Seyton did not much like. He did not entirely know why his master required it, but he had become a leech in the eyes of Acolyte. Secretly, Seyton did not think Lucien worthy of life if he was forced to constantly borrow it from others. Sucking the living blood from others, so that he may live a few hours longer. This was no true life, it was a half life.

It had become increasingly obvious for some time that Lucien was no longer human. But whether he was changing into something greater, or lesser, Seyton neither knew or cared. He simply waited in anticipation, for when his master either finally completed his transformation, or dispersed into history as merely a bad memory for the Imperium.

And the of course, there were the mutants and cultists who worked in the press gangs of the capital ship, Seyton mused, bringing himself back to his previous trail of thought. In the bows of this ship spread and flourished the taint of chaos. Thousands of mutants were spawned in the hellish pits of the vessel every day, their soul purpose to be harvest from their birthplaces for when Lucien required a force of soldiers. There was never a shortage of disgusting freaks or feral monsters for Lucien's work, their filth and decay spreading to the deepest hollows of the vessel. He allowed such nightmares to prosper untouched aboard his ship. To the loyal officers aboard the ship, such creatures were so far below them in the decks that they were invisible. To the still human conscripts and press gangs, they were either garish figures of nightmares, who prayed upon the weak. Or they were unholy terrors to be praised, as chaotic cults also spread amongst the ranks of Lucien's vessel.

These were the workings of a vessel of an utterly radical Inquisitor. Held in a delicate balance between the forces of chaos, and the loyal servants of the Imperium who were required to run it. Keeping that balance had become somewhat of a sickening game for Lucien, who would constantly have to talk his way out of suspicion or have officers killed. Or other times he would be required to cull the amount of daemons that were allows to prosper until they were under a controllable rate of growth again and could continue undetected. It was of course harder to replace skilled servants of the Imperium than it was to replace a mutant. But there were still plenty of capable loyalists wanting to climb through the ranks and become senior officers, and Lucien was only to happy to allow them to prove themselves.

Pawns they all were aboard their master's vessel, doomed to do his twisted biding whether they realized it or not.



To Be Continued...

II

Inquisitor Joseph Liechtenstein sat in silence at a long metal desk inside a confined room. He wore nothing but a red Inquisitorial robe, and stitches across the left side of his face. His naked hands were flat upon the desk, and his grey eyes studied them. He watched his blue veins as grim thoughts ran through his head of what was possibly about to happen. Though he doubted he was in any real trouble, he disliked being locked in an interrogation room. He was not bound to his chair or to the desk, but he felt like he may as well have been. He knew he was being watched, and though he had the illusion of freedom, he would not be permitted to leave that room. He had been waiting in it for nearly three hours now, his youth bringing out the restlessness inside of him. He was unable to leave because of the guards, but he felt that he should not stay. He every instinct was telling him to escape.

Suddenly the door to the chamber clicked open, catching Liechtenstein's attention immediately as a single figure entered the room. The man was massively tall, with a thick muscular build. He was clad in the same red robes as Liechtenstein, yet his were marked with gold embroidery, and a golden sash was wound around his waist. At his side was a bolt pistol, and in his strong gloved hands he carried several data slates. Liechtenstein did not look into the mans face, yet he rose respectfully.

"Sit down." The man said immediately before seating himself at the opposite end of the metal desk.

Liechtenstein waited a only moment longer, then raised his head to look into his counterparts face. The Inquisitor Lord had a stern expression fixed permanently into his features, his short greying hair combed back to show a receding hair line. He was equipped with a strong jaw, prominent cheek bones and a steely gaze for to intimidation. Yet he looked at Liechtenstein a little less harshly than he would most other people, and a lot less harsh than any others would have looked upon Liechtenstein at this time. He did not smile, or make any indication that he was not about to shoot the young Inquisitor where he sat. Yet his cool gaze was kinder, and looked upon the young Inquisitor almost in fondness.

"Welcome," The Inquisitor Lord spoke after another moment. "I can barely remember your last visit to this place, Liechtenstein. I don't know why you don't come more often."

"There is no time for rest, while heresy thrives." Liechtenstein replied.

He was being held in an Inquisitorial fortress on the planet Agustine. This planet, and the planets around it, were under the iron rule of the Ordo Hereticus. No heresy nor traitor nor mutant would be heard of in this system, for the Inquisition would cleanse it efficiently and mercilessly. If there was merely a whisper of an infectious taint, the Inqisitors would sweep down upon it and exterminate it at its core. There was to be no heresy while this fortress was strong, and no lack of faith in the Emperor.

"Indeed, indeed." The Inquisitor Lord replied to Liechtenstein's remark. "I'm going to get immediately to the point, Liechtenstein."

"Appreciated." Liechtenstein replied sharply.

"And I'd like no more smart comments." The Inquisitor Lord said strongly. "I am not happy with your performance on Laheth, a short time ago. And neither are my colleagues."

Liechtenstein did not say anything, but he was starring back at his superior with fire in his eyes.

"You not only ordered the death of almost an entire regiment of good soldiers, costing the hive you were supposed to be protecting their defences." The Lord's tone grew harsher with every word. "But you also called away the defences from the other hives to sap them of their protection! Emperor knows what might have become of the planet if the other hives had come under the same blight!"

"That was improbably." Liechtenstein cut his superior off. "The uprising was not imminent, it had been sparked. I believe it was the result of the actions, of a radical."

"We are aware of this!" The Inquisitor Lord snapped. "Yet you failed to capture or kill him, it seems! Are you capable of anything, we wonder?"

"Respectfully in my defence, my Lord." Liechtenstein spoke as calmly as possible. "But the situation was rather quickly taken out of my hands. The mutants and rebels would have been quelled quickly, were it not for the presence of the radical. And what is more, the treacherous heretic had somehow summoned forth the aid of traitor Space Marines. How was I supposed to deal with such a threat with only a single regiment at my disposal?"

The Inquisitor Lord raised his hand suddenly, silencing his younger counterpart.

"We are aware of everything you had to face, Liechtenstein." The Inquisitor Lord said, suddenly sounding tired. "We realize that the circumstances were dire. Further in your defence, we have read Zane's recollection of your defeat of the Daemonhost spawn. And we know of your attempts to slay the traitor marines. It is indeed evident that things were not entirely under your control, and the appearance of the Word Bearers and their Daemons was unfortunate. We concede that the odds were against you, and that your dedication to the Emperor is undiminishing. But the failure to capture the heretic, especially after he walked right into your lap, must not go overlooked!"

Liechtenstein bowed his head, knowing that his failure was the fault of no other but himself.

"Why did you not seek out the radical before he escaped the planet?" The Inquisitor Lord asked after a moment, giving Liechtenstein only just enough time to sigh.

"I was weak, my Lord." Liechtenstein said. "I did not have strength to go out on my own to challenge him again. I thought it best to stay back and cleanse the Hive instead, to make sure that there would be no further outbreaks of mutants or traitors. I never found the radical again however, and he had escaped from the depths of the hive it appeared."

"Indeed he had." The Inquisitor Lord said, his eyes now scanning over the data slates. "Do you know the name of this heretic, Liechtenstein?" He asked after a pause, his eyebrows raised as he read what was in front of him.

"Yes, my Lord." Liechtenstein said, taking a deep breath. "I believe that it was former Inquisitor Adrien Lucien, formerly of the Ordo Malleus."

"Are you aware that this is not possible?" The Inquisitor Lord asked, still not looking up. The information on the data slate seemed to interest him incredibly.

"What?" Liechtenstein asked, suddenly confused.

"Discover for yourself." The Inquisitor Lord said, sliding the data slate he had been reading across the table towards his younger counterpart.

Liechtenstein looked down at the data slate as it came to a stop in front of him, Inquisitor Lucien's profile displayed on its screen. Liechtenstein read his name at the top, and gazed upon the familiar face. Lucien looked a lot more human in this photo, and he starred blankly up at Liechtenstein through brown eyes. The Inquisitor read through the information next to the heretics image, taking care to read everything. To his surprise, it said nothing about Lucien becoming a heretic. Nothing to suggest that he was now an ex communicated traitor, a radical against the Emperor. As he read down, Liechtenstein's confusion only grew.

"It says nothing of his heresy!" Liechtenstein spoke. "It speaks of him as if he were a hero!"

"Read the bottom, Liechtenstein." The Inquisitor Lord said patiently.

Liechtenstein looked back down at the data slate, scrolling down until he found the last paragraph. He skimmed through it until he reached the last line, and was immediately hit by shock like a bolt of lightning. His jaw dropped and his eyes became wide. It read:

Inquisitor Adrien Lucien: born - 578.M41 killed - 656.M41



To Be Continued...

very good delevelopin nicely :lol:

Thanks Hardrain. :)


III

Liechtenstein looked up from the data slate in front of him, and stared into the eyes of the Inquisitor Lord. For a moment they simply eyed each other wordlessly, Liechtenstein's eye narrowing to search his superior's face for answers to the dozens of questions exploding forth in his mind. The Inquisitor then snapped his mouth shut when he realized it was still agape with surprise, and regained his posture before speaking.

"A mistake?" Liechtenstein asked. "It must be. I witnessed this heretic walking and moving with my own two eyes!"

"It is not a mistake." The Inquisitor Lord said sharply, cutting Liechtenstein off. "There are no mistakes in the records of the Ordo Hereticus. The honourable Inquisitor Lucien is dead."

"But how can you be sure?" Liechtenstein pressed, determined to antagonise his superior it seemed. "Is there any evidence to prove Lucien's demise? Do we even know how it happened?"

"Of course we know how it happened!" The Inquisitor Lord hissed, silencing Liechtenstein immediately. "His death was well accounted for. Another Inquisitor of his order was there when he was killed. He watched him die, recording his brother Inquisitor's last moments through his servo-skull. A long description of the events surrounding the honourable Lucien's death has also be provided to me, and I am certain that the Inquisitor is no more!"

Liechtenstein said nothing. He knew he had stepped out of line by questioning his superior in such a manner, but he was still not convinced of his enemies demise. He had watched Lucien walk and speak with his own eyes, and had even fought with the heretic. How could this man be dead? How could Liechtenstein have sustained such wounds from a man that was supposed to be dead?

He looked at the stitches embedded in the side of his face from the corner of his
eye, the wound suddenly aching at the thought of the conflict.

But what was worse, was the fact that Lucien had been spoken of as if he were a hero. A crusader against the darkness the blighted the Imperium, and a warrior of true courage in the face of great evil and decadence. Liechtenstein just could not accept this! Not after what he had seen on Laheth. Not after what he had gone through to combat that heretic. Not after what that fiend had done!

The Inquisitor Lord had been staring at Liechtenstein this entire time, his eyes unwavering. Liechtenstein knew he was being studied. Watched for the slightest reaction, or show of emotion that would betray his thoughts and feelings. It was said that Inquisitors could hear guilty thoughts, and though this was in some cases true, most the time they could merely read their counterparts face for hints of their thoughts and intentions.

But as he glared back into the eyes of his superior, Liechtenstein suddenly noticed something himself. He saw a softness in the steely gaze of the Inquisitor Lord. A sort of urging, or pitying. It was as if Liechtenstein was missing the point, but his superior was trying to make him understand.

Liechtenstein then understood. He was not being interrogated for punishment, he was being tested.

The Inquisitor heaved a deep sigh before speaking. "Then I concede that Inquisitor Adrien Lucien must be dead. But that is not the issue here."

The corners of the Inquisitor Lord's lips curled slightly, showing the ghost of a smile.

"A heretic attacked me on Laheth, my Lord." Liechtenstein then continued. "What does his Divine Emperor ask of me?"



A bodiless laugh echoed through the void of space, heard by none save the dreamers. It was a never ending cackle of amusement, an unbroken rhythm of laughter that moved amongst the planets and the stars, and the dust and emptiness of space. There was a mind behind this hysteria, one who had seen and known all. One who was not bound by the laws of physics, or a fleshy prison, or the rules of society by which mortals lived out their short life spans. This was a creature that was truly free, and one that had lived forever.

It moved through space faster than any clumsy battle ship, howling its amusement as it went! It was searching for something, something small. A planet, which it had not visited in over a hundred million years. Of course it still knew where to look, as this creatures memory was endless. It searched near the tear in reality the mortals knew as the Eye of Terror, and found its target. A small white orb, glowing against the blackness of space.

As the creature looked down upon the planet, it instantly recalled everything it had ever known about it. It remembered its first visit here, stepping onto the icy surface and gazing out over its breathtaking white beauty. Even before that, this creature remembered how this planet had formed, and knew about the two meteors it used to be. It remembered the exact moment of their collision, though it had been on the other side of the universe at that time.

As it watched, the creature could also perceive the future of this planet. It watched as mortal creatures came to the planet, attempting to plunder it for its secrets. The creature began cackling again at the puny beings folly, wondering in earnest what the mortals hoped to achieve. It then gasped in joy as it watched more mortal battle ships enter the orbit of this planet, hunting for the first group.

'Civil war', the creature thought to itself in delight, before laughing at the amount of pain these human beings inflicted on each other. How they had not wiped themselves out centuries ago was a mystery, one to be pondered upon.

But for now, there was fun to be had. The creature descended down upon the planet, concealing itself deep beneath its crust and away from any immediate prying eyes. There it would hide, pondering in joy the events it had seen unfold in the coming weeks, and waiting for its new body to take form.



To Be Continued...

IV


Alone Seyton walked, having only the click of his heels on the metal surface of the floor to keep him company. He stalked up a dark corridor deep inside the Imperial vessel, returning from a personal errand that had thus far proved fruitless. His mood had now become foul, and his face was twisted into a undisguised snarl. His fists were clenched, his eyes murderous. Though no one would cross his path in this part of the ship, he would have murdered them on the spot if they had.

The Divine Nemesis had entered warp space only an hour before, following coordinates given by Lucien himself. Not even Seyton knew what destination his master was traveling to, and again the Acolyte felt the pain of being left in the dark. He did not know why his master chose to keep things from him, and that is what angered him most. Why did Lucien do this to him? Was he not loyal? Was he not trust worthy? What conceivable reason did the Inquisitor have to keep his closest and most loyal servant out of his plans? Even the damn Sage knew more than Seyton, and though the Acolyte often dreamed of ripping the cyborg to pieces to learn its secrets, he knew his masters wrath would be murderous.

The Acolyte began walking to his quarters, deliberately avoiding anyone who might cross his path, lest they cross the path of their executioner. He deliberately used side passages, and tunnels that the ships personnel and crew seldom used. He did not want anyone to know from where he had come, lest his master discover what he was doing. Seyton seemed to have escaped the eyes of everyone whom he might have met on his way, until he was stopped dead in his tracks by a voice.

'Seyton', it had said to him. It seemed to have whispered in his ear, yet when he turned there was no one behind him. He inspected the corridor he was in closely, his dark eyes sweeping over every nook and crevice. When he was convinced that there was no one behind, or anyone in front of him for that matter, he continued on his way.

But he was stopped again, almost immediately.

'Seyton', the voice has whispered again. The Acolyte turned once
more, his eyes narrowing in suspicion and annoyance. He was had been sure that there was no one down here with him, yet he could hear the voice as plainly as if someone had stood right before him.

'Seyton!'

This time the voice sent shock waves through the Acolyte's body. It had been louder, much louder. It had power behind it this time, as if someone had spoken to Seyton in a booming command, and not a mere whisper. It felt as if he had been punch in the face, or electrocuted, but there was no pain. He had staggered, and his head felt confused and muddled.

'Will you listen to us now, Seyton?' The voice asked, although it did not seem like only one voice anymore. It was as if a group of people were speaking to the Acolyte. As if four mighty figures stood over him, yet there was no one there at all. Only a sudden and undeniable presence.

Seyton was still reeling, but slowly he tried to pull himself upright, gathering his thoughts.

"Who are you?" He managed to say after a moment.

'We are!' The voices spoke as one. As if there were four speakers, but only one true being. 'And we have come to you, Seyton, with an offering!'

"What do you want from me?" Seyton asked, still glancing around for the source of the voices.

'Lucien is weak, Seyton.' The voices said. 'He is blind, and foolish! He cares nothing of the task we had once laid down to him, and in his own selfish endeavours he leads our flock to be slaughtered! He will be endured no longer!'

Seyton looked around wildly now, desperate to locate the speakers. Every word they had just spoken was no stuck in the Acolyte's head, and he knew their words to be true. He did not know who they were, or why they were. All he knew is that they were, and that their words made sense.

"What do you want me to do?" Seyton asked.

'Kill this perpetrator! Crush his bones, put his flesh to the fire, and
scatter his ashes!' The voices spoke, persuading the Acolyte. 'Do this as an act of faith to us Seyton, and we will reward you!'

"How?" Seyton asked, a smile playing on his face.

'You will be free, Seyton! You will be your own master, and everything that Lucien now has and more will be yours! We will make you powerful beyond your wildest dreams, and far beyond was Lucien has become.'

Seyton bowed his head, his heart aflame now with the lust for blood. The need to torture, to kill and to maim rose within him like a raging beast rising from a slumber. He would so as these creatures asked. What they said must be the truth, because what they had spoken made so much sense. Yes, he would spill the blood of his master. He would torture and rent Lucien, until he was beyond recognition and begging for death! He would make his master bleed, and he would enjoy it!

'Be warned, Seyton!' The voice spoke once more. 'Lucien is a being far greater than any mortal! He will not die willingly. Be vigilant, and bide your time. Wait until he is unawares, and at his weakest. Wait until you have him in the palm of your hand, at your complete mercy. If you were to attack this being head on, you would surely be destroyed!'

Seyton heeded their warning with a bow of his head, and lowered himself down onto his knee.

"Thankyou, my new masters." Seyton said, and the Gods of Chaos were appeased.



To Be Continued...

very nice cal , drawing us in nicely on 2 different plot paths

Thanks :)


V

...a great hero of his time.

One particular incident to outline Inquisitor Lucien's feats of power and loyalty would be the Haradic incursion, where by the forces of Abaddon had managed to break past Cadia and make a strike on a near by planet. Their attack was unexpected, and though the swift actions of several naval captains managed to blunt their attack, several of their vessels managed to reign hell upon the planet's surface. An army of Chaos Space Marines were released from their transport ships in drop pods, and put into place their plans of destruction immediately.

The Grey Knights of the Inquisition were immediately dispatched to the planet to bring this threat to as quick a closing as it had begun. Inquisitor Lucien was amongst their numbers, waisting no time in leading the Emperor's finest into combat with the traitors and the Daemons they had summoned from the warp. He fought fiercely and bravely, his efficiency and loyalty to the Emperor unquestioned...


Inquisitor Joseph Liechtenstein read these verses in fascination, every word drawing his attention more than the last.

He sat alone in a cramped and dark room. The only light came from a small lamp trained on the data slates and scrolls in front of the Inquisitor, and a large monitor that took up almost an entire wall. Liechtenstein had been here for some hours, studying what the Inquisitor Lord had given him. Liechtenstein's superior had charged him with studying these old scrolls and documents so that he could learn all that was possible from them. Then Liechtenstein was to leave the fortress, and hunt for this heretic that had attacked him on Laheth.

The Inquisitor Lord had placed a good deal of faith in Liechtenstein, believing his word that Lucien yet lived. Despite the hard evidence, which Liechtenstein had sitting in front of him now, the old Inquisitor had gone against his colleagues wishes by assigning Liechtenstein with the task he now had. To find Lucien, if he still lived, and bring him to the Emperor's justice. Of course they had both been ridiculed for embarking on such a wild goose chase, and the other Inquisitors refused to listen to a word Liechtenstein had to say. They would not have Lucien's good named tarnished by this, despite the recordings from Liechtenstein's own servo-skull.

Well, time to see this hard evidence of theirs, thought Liechtenstein.

He had read through document after document and scroll after scroll of Inquisitor Lucien's achievements and acts of valour. If they were true, Liechtenstein could see why others would be so determined not to have Lucien's records sought through or his good name come under threat of shame. The act of Liechtenstein reading these records in itself was an act of great disrespect, and considered a disturbance of the dead. But the Inquisitor did not care, not after the wounds Lucien had dealt him. He would have the truth behind this mystery!

Heaving a deep sigh, Liechtenstein inserted a small disk into the wall next to the monitor. He had scarcely slept for the past few days, and his eyes were red and puffy. He rubbed them with his fingers before turning to face the monitor, preparing for what he was about to witness. If he was wrong about this, if Lucien really was dead, then Liechtenstein's execution would be imminent for watching this recording. This was the recording of Inquisitor Adrien Lucien's last moments.

The monitor sprang to life suddenly, a face taking up almost the entire picture. The man had brown eyes and a bald scalp, a psychic hood rising behind his head. He was clad in dark power armour under a black cloak, adorned with the insignia of the Inquisition. Inquisitor Gunther, Liechtenstein guessed.

The image then zoomed out to reveal Gunther's entire retinue, hunched down in a dark and muddy trench. The Inquisitor was shouting something to his bodyguard, but what Liechtenstein did not know. There was no sound, this room devoid of speakers. The two combat servitors rose slowly, their heavy weaponry firing over the lip of the trench at a thus far unknown enemy.

Gunther then rose himself, raising a storm bolter and adding his weapons fire to his servitors. The servo-skull continued to rise out of the trench however, and turned to give Liechtenstein a much wider view of what was actually happening. The scene before him was not anything the Inquisitor had not seen before, trench after trench spanning out behind Gunther and his retinue's position. Each trench was filled with a score of Imperial Guardsmen, barely visible through the darkness and now apparent fog. The conditions in which they fought must have been freezing. The Guardsmen in the front few rows had their weapons raised, firing off to the side of the monitor. Those in the back rows added the roar of the heavy weapons to their comrades fire power, laying down a hail of exploding heavy bolter shells. But despite the ferocity and strength of this combined weapons fire, each and every man in the trenches had a look of pure terror on their faces. Whatever they were fighting, it was obvious they did not expect to win.

The servo-skull then turned, finally giving Liechtenstein a view of this enemy. He saw a wall, perhaps a former battlement, broken wide open with ruin scattered in every direction. It looked as if it had been blown apart by a shell, or maybe a lance weapon. Whatever had been used, the effect had been devastating, creating the perfect cover for an attacker to advance through. But Liechtenstein saw no attacker, only shadows. Shadows and hunched figures that stalked amongst the ruin and rubble, not revealing themselves to the light. Liechtenstein could not possibly make out any of their forms in detail, and could not discern exactly what they were. But when they opened fire, the Inquisitor was hit by a sudden sense of dread.

Beams of green fire burst from the shadows and druin, sinking in amongst the Guardsmens positions in the trenches. Those the green ray hit directly seemed have the flesh torn off their skin, their muscle tissue and organs laying bare until they too were torn away. Masses of the Guardsmen were killed in this gruesome fashion, the green beams of fire striking again and again. The first row of Guardsmen were obliterated in seconds, and the next row were ordered forward. But as those in the second trench rose out to take the positions of their former comrades, they were caught in the deadly beams and flayed alive in a similar fashion. The Guardsmen uniforms and armour seemed to make no difference, blown apart by the force of the alien weapons.

This was no battle, this was a slaughter! The soldiers of the Imperium could barely see what it was they were even fighting, their weapons firing inaccurately and in panic. However there seemed to be no thinning to the alien fire power, and their shots proved true almost every time. In mere moments, the dismembered remains of scores of Guardsmen piled up in the first and second and even third trenches. The once impressive firepower of the Imperials had been reduced to almost naught but their longer ranged heavy guns, and even this seemed to be taking almost no affect on the enemy.

Whatever they are, thought Liechtenstein to himself grimly. He knew Lucien's death was likely to be in the heat of battle, but he had not expected this. He had never seen anything such as this.

The enemy rate of fire seemed to slow however, and Liechtenstein guessed that they were now almost out of range of any targets. The Guardsmen in the trenches further back had suddenly refused to move forward, and not even the word of Inquisitor Gunther would make them move. Liechtenstein could no see his red faced counter part screaming from amongst his mens ranks.

Now having nothing to fire at, Liechtenstein suddenly became hopeful that the enemy would move forward. That they would move into the space between their cover and the cover of the trenches, and he might finally have a look at what they were. The alien seemed to have something else in mind, for they did not advance from the shadows. The Inquisitor suddenly realized a mass of dark figures moving into the sides of the trenches from the corner of the screen. By time the servo-skull swivelled around, they were already in the trenches and once again hidden from proper view. Whatever they were, they were spreading a sheer panic amongst the guardsmen. They had started killing where they had entered the trench, but rather than attacking the new foe, the soldiers of the Emperor began to flee. They attempted to get over the trench and into the cover of their comrades behind them, but those that were not cut down by the enemies horrifying fire, were executed by the Inquisitor's command.

And it was then that Liechtenstein saw him. Inquisitor Adrien Lucien ducking from amongst the ranks of the Guardsmen and into the trench of the aggressors. He had taken his retinue and small band of Guardsmen with him, laying into the aliens that inhabited the bunker. Liechtenstein silently cursed the distance of the servo-skull from the action, as he could see almost nothing in detail. But he was certain that he had seen Lucien, for his brown hair and lithe build was unmistakable. He fought like a mad man, raising and lowering his power sword on the hidden enemy in white fury. Those he lead stuck close to him, determined to fight with him and to protect him. It was evident from the expressions the Guardsmen bore, that they both admired Lucien, and were in awe over him.

When he was done with the enemy in that trench, he leaped over nimbly into the next trench, scarcely evading enemy fire. He raised his fist in defiance, and called to the soldiers behind him. Stirred on by their leaders valour, the Guardsmen jumped the trench and quickly took cover with Lucien. Then, on the Inquisitor's command, they jumped the trench again and filled the next one. Of course they took casualties from enemy fire every time they broke cover, but now they kept their heads down and ran quickly. Their numbers were massing again in the forward trenches, and soon a counter attack could be mounted.

Lucien was amongst their ranks obviously, his open mouth filled with normal human teeth. His eyes were brown, his hair short and combed into place. He seemed much younger here, though in truth he did not look like he had aged a day. Liechtenstein just couldn't describe it. It was like the Lucien he had met had an older mind, a deeper wisdom and understanding. And so he seemed older, though his features remained almost exactly the same. Liechtenstein noticed something else too! Lucien bore two scars, one across his cheek and one over his right eye. Lucien did not have these scars presently, unless they had been masked. Liechtenstein highly doubted that a man like Lucien would have bothered.

As Liechtenstein continued to watch, he saw as the Imperial soldiers came once more into range of the enemies massed fire power. But this did not deter Lucien, and it did not deter them. They still rushed forward to take the front trench, just as Lucien asked of them. The Inquisitor then gave the command and mortars were fired from further back. Demo charges were hurled a dangerous distance from the front trench, and missile launchers were even fired. An explosion tore through the rock and rubble of the ruined wall, and for an instance the enemy fire faltered. It threatened to stop almost entirely, and taking advantage of this Lucien ordered his men over the trench!

Liechtenstein was amazed, shocked, horrified even! He could barely believe that Lucien was ordering these men to charge the enemy head on, and meat them in close combat. Was this Inquisitor insane? Liechtenstein had read repetitively of Lucien's great acts of daring and risk taking. But this was not a risk, this was suicidal!

With what must have been a great roar, the Imperial Guardsmen leaped from the safety of their trench and charged towards the concealed enemy. Their guns were raised, knives and clubs and other make shift combat weapons in hand. Lucien was at their front, and the sheer mass of men would have been enough to run through a solid brick wall! For a moment Liechtenstein dared to hope that they would actually make it to the shadows, actually make it into combat with the enemy.

His hope proved fruitless.

The enemy opened fire again, as if the demo charges and mortar shells had had almost no effect on their numbers. The green fire ripped through the Guardsmens ranks, shredding their bodies and leaving behind only a charred skeletal corpse. They would never reach the enemy lines, not at the rate of casualties they were taking, and Lucien's gamble had failed.

Liechtenstein watched in an almost horrified fascination as he watched Lucien charge forward. A green beam hit the soldier running just in front of him, vaporizing the lad in an instant. His body had acted as a human shield for Lucien, but it protected him no longer. The Inquisitor was hit in the legs by the green beam of fire, causing him to stumble and fall over. Just as he feel however, another beam caught his right arm and skinned it totally. The Inquisitor then disappeared amongst the bodies of the Guardsmen, and the recording ended.

The monitor went black, and for a moment Liechtenstein didn't move. His brain felt numb from what he had just seen, his eyes wide and starring blankly in front of him. His mind played over and over again Lucien going down, struck twice by the alien fire. He would have lost his entire bottom half, and bled to death slowly. He could not have survived that, there was no way.

Still Liechtenstein did not move, his mind now questioning what he had seen on Laheth. Had he really been attacked by the true Inquisitor Lucien, or was it some sick look alike. Liechtenstein cursed in his confusion.



To Be Continued...

VI


Inquisitor Adrien Lucien lie on his back in the dirt, his brown eyes starring at the sky. His face was a contortion of pain and panic, his mind almost refusing to believe that this could happen to him. He could not feel his legs, and he could not feel his right arm. They were not numb, there was just nothing. The nerves had been totally burned away, leaving no feeling but the agonising pain in his shoulder, and in his bleeding gut.

He knew he had only a few seconds left to live, the damage to his body far to extensive. He felt himself fading fast, into a sweet oblivion. There would be no rescue, no more bravery. Their hero was down, and the Imperial Guard were fleeing, leaving Lucien here to die. He had heard Gunther cry for the retreat, his heart burning in rage that his friend could have betrayed him like this. Leave him here to die, cold, alone, and in agony.

Defeated he was, at long last. Killed by an enemy, which he did not even have a name for! His entire life time had been spent in blood, and slaughter, and the cleansing of chaos. How could he have failed now? What, under the Emperor could have struck him down. He had no name for them, these fiends that hid in the shadows and attacked like unholy terrors. 'Horror', was the name given to them by the Guardsmen. Unstoppable, and totally crippling horror.

'Lucien,' a voice suddenly spoke to him, whispering in his ear.

The Inquisitor made no reply. Made no signal that he had heard the voice at all.

'Lucien,' The voice spoke again, in a strange and unearthly tongue. Though Lucien could not see the speaker, he was not afraid. Nothing could make him afraid now, he had lost everything.

'You are dieing, Lucien,' The voice said, mocking him. 'You are nothing but half a corpse, left in this place to die and rot amongst these lowly Imperials.'

Finally, Lucien closed his eyes. He did not care what the voice said to him, though it made perfect sense. He had given up on hope, given up on the Emperor. There was nothing anymore, nothing but a bleak and meaningless death that awaited him. A blissful slumber from which he would never awaken.

'What sort of Emperor, what sort of god, would allow this to happen to his devout followers?' The voice asked, and Lucien realized that it was not just one voice, but a chorus of four. It mattered little to him though, he simply allowed them to lull him as he died. 'Do you fear nothing anymore, you little fool? Don't you realize that you are mortal? Don't you realize that you are about to die?'

The voices seemed to say these words with in a harsh, mocking tone. This time Lucien heard them, and despite his refusal to take heed of them, every word they spoke suddenly pulled on his heart. He was mortal. He was going to die, and for what?

'It doesn't have to be this way, you know?' The voices said, returning to their long, sweat coated tone. 'What would you say if we could give it all back to you? What would you say, if we could revive you? If we could give you life once more?'

Lucien frowned, their words suddenly confusing him. There could be no life for him now. No possible chance of him standing once more to walk this galaxy. He was no forever damned, to roam the next.

'This immortal Emperor of yours, this weakling god!' The voices cried, once again hissing in anger. 'He would not give you this choice! This once chance to live again! He is a greedy fool, caring about nothing but gobbling up your soul like some bloated child! He has betrayed you, Lucien!'

Yes, he has, the Inquisitor thought. How could an Emperor who loved him allow him to die in this way? Would not the Emperor, were he truly a god, wish to resurrect Lucien himself? Was Lucien not a worthy servant of the immortal Emperor? Had he not been loyal enough?

'He has abandoned you, Lucien.' The voices said, this time Lucien listening to their every word. 'But we will never abandon you! Pledge your allegiance to us, and we will give you life again! And we will give you so much more. We can give you a body, that will never die! One that will never again know sickness, or pain or suffering! What would you say if we offered you this immortal life, Lucien?'

"Who are you?" Lucien gasped, though he didn't think his lips had moved at all. He was speaking to them now, in his mind.

'We are the true immortal gods!' They claimed. 'And we will make you great! Would you take this immortal life? Would you become a god amongst men?'

The Inquisitor thought about this, as long and hard as his last few seconds of life would allow. His mind was fading, and he could no longer properly piece together coherent thought. But when he came to his conclusion, his mind was made up.

"Yes," He said. "Give me this immortal life."

The voices seemed to be laughing, breaking out in celebration.

'Understand this, Lucien.' They said to him. 'You are truly dead, as is your fate! This life we give, is a false life. To continue to live as you do, you must borrow life from others. And with every life you take to lengthen your own, their souls will become one with us! You will forever lust for blood!'

"I don't care!" Lucien cried. "Give it to me! Give me this immortal life!"



Inquisitor Adrien Lucien awoke suddenly, opening his crimson eyes to blackness. He was still insides the confines of his sarcophagus, but now he was awake. And as it happened every time he awoke, Lucien felt a sudden hunger claw at him. A lust for blood that was barely controllable, threatening to burst from his throat in a guttural scream of want and longing. But he was used to these cravings after so long. After two hundred years since his death, blood had become a necessary part of life.

The lid to his sarcophagus suddenly rumbled open, the long clamps drawing back to release Lucien from his tomb. He rose in the darkness, stretching his long limbs as he did so. He then stepped out of the large coffin, and made to exit this dark place. The scars that had earlier crossed his body in a horrible pattern, the scars left by his death and later injuries, were now gone. His skin was once more smooth and clear, and his eyes were again white in the corners. He could hold himself up straight, and stood with his usual arrogant and commanding air.

Blood, he thought. The lord of the dead had awoken.


To Be Continued...

very good as always but i read yours first on another forum. lol

lol, yeah you'll find them about. Boot Camp, and the CSG are the main places where you will find my stories.

This is the last episode for this part, so enjoy!

VII


Blood. This one singular thought throbbed in Inquisitor Lucien's mind, consuming all other thoughts. He had not fed four hours, and now he was thirsting. His craving for the vital fluid was almost debilitating, his veins and arteries burning like hot wire inside of him. His head felt as if it would split open, and Lucien's skin must have been the colour of the waxing moon.

He stood now in the large chamber, where he would dance on the dark marble floor with his victims. He liked this place, almost more than he liked any other. It had a peaceful harmony to it, that no where else did. The low music played softly in the background, and here Lucien was free to move and to dance in wide graceful arcs as pleased him. Mostly it was with a female, as suited him, and they would dance together in a slow and graceful waltz. The Inquisitor's strength yet gentleness usually charmed the ladies, and so there were no shortage to dance with. But sometimes he would dance with a male, and they would engage in such fierce leaping and sliding, and twisting and twirling with one another that an onlooker would think that they were engaged in silent combat. Good male acrobats were of course more difficult to come across, and so Lucien only ever used them if there was no prospect of an up coming conflict. It would allow him to keep his body fit, and skills sharp.

Those that danced with the Inquisitor did so willingly, as they did lay down their lives for him. Every single person that entered that chamber surrendered their lives, so that Lucien may live on. He liked drinking from them, taking their life as if it was a bountiful gift. He did not feel so much like a thief, like a criminal forced to steal life from others. He hated such an dark prospect, and it made him feel like a leach.

But those Lucien took willingly, lived forever if he wished it. Their bodies rested with Lucien, their own coffins filling the alcoves in the crypts walls. The remnants of their souls were kept within that chamber, whispering to him. They heard his every thought as he slept, and nurtured his tired body with their new mystic powers. Sacrifices to the chaos gods they were, and then given back to him to keep him company.

The crypt was a sad necessity for Lucien, and was a place of dark secrets and decay. There he had to rest his immortal body, and succumb to a deep and deathly sleep. It was the place that revealed everything, what Lucien truly was. But he could find no real peace there, he could not think or ponder. He could only sleep.

And so he bought himself to this chamber, this room of dance and thought. Of passion and blood and death. Now Lucien danced alone however, thoughts running swiftly through his head as he moved. There was a dead Eldar body, waiting for him in a surgeons operating room. He was looking forward to the autopsy, and what it would reveal about these rather unique Eldar. They had fought like daemons on Laheth, plunging themselves fearlessly into the ranks of the Word Bearers. Their swords and voices had raised as one as they had fought, and they had been frighteningly efficient at killing off the Chaos Space Marines. Not even their Lieutenant had been sparred from the merciless slaughter, and Lucien was surprised that there had been any Eldar casualties for him to choose from.

He had ordered Seyton to grab the corpse as they fled back into the depths of that Hive. He had wanted to know their secrets. Now that he had seen them fight from a third party point of view, he had to know what secrets were concealed in their biological make up. What made them so different from other Eldar, and why were they so good at destroying the slaves of chaos?

Lucien had ordered the surgeon and his assistants to wait for him before starting the procedure, lest their autopsies be next.

The other item of interest waiting for the Inquisitor was the corpse of a Sage. It had been taken from the transport of the rival Inquisitor, and Lucien had ordered it to be dismembered and pulled apart immediately. He wanted to know what information it had hidden in its data files, and what it would yield about this rival Inquisitor. Lucien had no doubt that most files would have been erased upon the Sage's death, but he had faith that Seyton would be able to turn up something useful. The Acolyte was working on it at that very moment.

And so Lucien danced, his two prizes waiting for him, and his craving for blood steadily growing stronger. But there was no willing victim this time, and Lucien knew he would have to murder somebody.

As he pondered on his endless craving once more, his thoughts turned to all his super natural abilities. Upon his mortal death, the Lords of Chaos had come to him. They had promised him a new life, an immortal life. A life where he would be free of the restriction the Ordo Malleus and the rest of the Imperium had placed upon him, and he had all the time in the galaxy to study and to discover and to know all he desired.

The mysteries of the universe did not belong to one man alone, nor were they dangerous or terrifying to those who were not afraid. They were free to for anyone to plunder, and any who got in anothers way would either take the knowledge for
themselves, or be cut down out of the way. Lucien repeated this in his mind, the simple law upon which he lived his immortal life. It had been the chaos gods that had given him the freedom to live by these notions.

Each had given him a gift of their own, to make him what they called the perfect child of darkness. He was not a powerful or dreaded figure like the Warmaster Abaddon himself, but Lucien was something far more sinister. An enemy born from the Imperium's own selfishness and blind ways. An enemy that was resourceful enough to survive on ones own, and secret enough to strike at the heart of the Imperium before it realized it was under attack.

It was from Khorne, the blood god, that Lucien had received his lust for blood. His long mighty fangs had grown as a mark of Khorne, and a means to feed by. He had become super humanly strong, and agile. His skills in combat were beyond that of any mortal. But Lucien's lust for blood was also his means of sacrificing souls to the lords of chaos, as he had promised to do when the resurrected him.

From Slaanesh he retained his immortal youth and beauty. Lucien would never physically grow old, and his face still retained that boyish and regal charm it had years before. Whats more, Lucien had been relieved of all past injuries and scarrings that once marred his features. He looks as if he had never been wounded, like a beautiful and fresh new born child. Only Lucien's shining crimson eyes looked out of place at first glance, starring out of his soft flesh like fires.

From Grandfather Nurgle, the lord of decay, Lucien had received his immortality. His body would never rot, or be touched by disease again. Cancers, plagues and diseases were things Lucien would never have to worry about again. He was thus difficult to kill.

And from Tzeench, Lucien had received infinite knowledge and wisdom. He had the ability to learn like now other, and mortal curiosity that would drive him to great lengths to get what he wanted. But also his psychic powers had been magnified to terrifying heights! He no longer required the protection of a psychic hood to nullify his enemies abilities, nor was he afraid of delving into the warp unprotected. He was by no means immune, but he was fearless, and this was in itself an advantage.

And so the gods of chaos had made themselves an almost perfect creature. They called him the Vampire, after a creature of great horror from Eldar mythology. Of course Lucien had no fear of sunlight, or holy symbols of the Emperor. But his other worldly abilities and lust for blood made the name fitting.



"My Lord?"

The voice startled Lucien, bringing him immediately back to the present. He stopped dancing and allowed his arms to fall limp. He then turned to the person standing behind him.

"My Lord." The man repeated. He was wearing a grey robe, and was merely a servant of the Inquisition. He had been instructed to wait on Lucien during his days of loyalty to the Imperium, but was now a willing slave of chaos. He had not started to mutate yet, but his limbs and features were becoming distorted, signalling that he was preparing to receive a multitude of gifts and curses from the lords of insanity and doom. "My Lord, Seyton wishes for your presence. He says that he has completed his scan of the captured Sage's data files. He also wishes you speed, as the surgeons are ready to begin with their examination."

How dare he summon me like this! Lucien thought. He could not care less if the surgeons were ready and impatient. They could wait a century if it suited Lucien. But the hour was drawing late he admitted to himself, and nodded to the grey robed servant.

"I will come." He said, his voice deceptively soft. "But first I want a word with you. Come closer."

Lucien drew nearer the slave, and the poor man became suddenly afraid. Lucien had gently placed two hands on the slaves shoulders, starring at him with his crimson eyes. But the Inquisitor suddenly bared his teeth, and drew the slave in forcefully. With on strong hand he snapped the mans head back, and sank his long teeth into the artery in his neck.

Blood. The metallic taste of the vital fluid flooded Lucien's mouth, quenching the irresistible craving.



The End.....for now......

awsome.
now we know the cause of inquisitor Lucien's descent into chaos, cool.