Recent Additions to the Principia

Sibellus Noir

Lore of the Principia Infecta

In the grand tradition of striving to achieve goals that are neither straightforward nor likely to be completed, allow me to offer you the first and opening part of a little thing I call Sibellus Noir:

Sibellus. City without end, layered hive of mankind, asylum for billions struck ignorant and mad by its walls. I've been gone a long time, to far, sickened places. Long enough for me to forget - if I had wanted to. Long enough for a generation of newborns to be crippled, struck dumb, made sinners. But the City has its hooks into me, just as it does them. So I remember everything.

It's been five years by my ticking clock, and twenty by the booming beat of the City. The Man sent me away, and now the Man brought me back. He thinks he is the one whose devices and secrets have the hold over me - but the City is a cruel moll, and she wields the sharpest implements of all. No man can ever forget Sibellus, not in his heart, no matter how much he wants to.

Download the creative commons licensed PDF.

[ Posted by Reason on February 15, 2010 | Permanent Link ]

Released: the Logic of Tales and Dreams

Lore of the Principia Infecta

Some forms of insanity resist easy categorization, producing strange symptoms and stranger actions. Here we have one such result, a story game called The Logic of Tales and Dreams - a game that does not in fact exist.

The Logic of Tales and Dreams is free and creative commons licensed: download it and do with it as you will.

• Download the web-quality PDF (1.6M)
• Download the print-quality PDF (7.2M)

[ Posted by Reason on December 25, 2009 | Permanent Link ]

Amaxathroth the Wanderer, Amaxathroth the Cursed, Amaxathroth the Published

Lore of the Principia Infecta

I'm pleased to note that The Later Blue Tome of Amaxathroth the Cursed is now available in print and PDF - and a very fine looking product it is, even if I say so myself.

The Later Blue Tome of Amaxathroth the Cursed is a 144-page mini-supplement for Ron Edwards' Sorcerer and Sorcerer & Sword, currently available as either a full color PDF or black and white print paperback. It is a lush portrait of a demon-ridden world of corruption and decay, richly illustrated by artists including Scott Purdy, Chris Huth, and Eric Lofgren.

• Buy the full color PDF at RPGNOW.com
• Buy the black and white print paperback at Lulu

May you enjoy reading as much as I enjoyed writing in Amaxathroth's bitter voice. But here we lay Amaxathroth to rest for a time, to brood upon the corrupt nature of mankind in his tomb of ages, for other projects beckon.

[ Posted by Reason on August 14, 2009 | Permanent Link ]

Another Glimpse of Amaxathroth's Decayed Aeon

Lore of the Principia Infecta

Amaxathroth is seated in his tomb, waiting. Not for you or I, for we are less than the swirling motes to his unblinking gaze. His heart is blackened by the ages, and his contempt of mankind complete and utter. Yet his words remain, scribed across countless lifetimes, and hoarded by those who come to regret their greed for such.

But know this now: as the toil of building the Later Blue Tome of Amaxathroth the Cursed now winds to a close, I, your humble translator, offer you a second preview of the words of Amaxathroth as a bookend to the first. These are print quality color files, hence large:

Preview PDF #1: The Spire of Thirst and Madness (6.9M)

Preview PDF #2: The Demon Grove (7M)

Expect much more of a similar ilk within the finished tome, a book of vitriol and bitterness to match the rot witnessed by Amaxathroth the Wanderer, Amaxathroth the Scribe, Amaxathroth the Cursed; he who lives yet while all else dies.

[ Posted by Reason on July 6, 2009 | Permanent Link ]

That Shuddering Beneath the Earth...

Lore of the Principia Infecta

That shuddering beneath the earth is the beast waking from its long slumber. Mayhaps to roam and ravage, mayhaps to merely look about with bleary eyes before settling back to sleep as though dead.

Whatever the future holds for Principia Infecta, it will soon include a published manuscript, a tome of writings. I, your humble scribe, have moved to assemble artists and piece together the Later Blue Tome of Amaxathroth the Cursed. It is a sword and sorcery mini-supplement for Ron Edwards' Sorcerer, a bitter and fragmented glance at a lustful and decayed aeon. Sorcery, demons, and vile rogues!

Take a moment to look at the preview, if you will, and console yourself that the crumbling of this, our present age, is at least a more mundane horror than the sorcerous rot witnessed by Amaxathroth the Wanderer.

Since the Principia lapsed into slumber some time past, I have not removed myself completely from the forlorn role of a game-scribe. Through strange happenstance, you will find my credits upon Fantasy Flight Games' Creatures Anathema and the forthcoming Radical's Handbook and Rogue Trader. It is an unseemly world in which one such as I is forging canon for Warhammer 40K - how my past self would have laughed at such! Perhaps matters will become stranger yet, to the joy and detriment of many. We shall see.

[ Posted by Reason on June 1, 2009 | Permanent Link ]

Cultrix-Pancreator, Witch of the Gunmetal Undervaults

Aurealogi Belsepanium > Anni Aureum > Warpcraft Spilled From Noble Hive Spires

[Manse vox-record :: signo temporis 3.626.804 M41
Cenatio Viridis :: Seven Hall Manse :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla
Adept-Militant Grambald]

So there I was, scratch-taped to some crumbled tribrace the wrong way up at the lowest end of the vertway crush, right where it came out at the undervault top, and looking like some glint hanging from the cathedra dome. Had a hanger brace for the long-las, rething waiting for the cutting to start way down below. Drip, drip, drip from all the hive filthwater that flows downaways.

Rething mess it was, like all the big vertways down to the undervault in Gunmetal - and all the rething maniacs in that hole. Reth me, every time him on high sends me there, it's rething mess, blood and scum. The gangers in Gunmetal, reth, every bleeder below the Highroads, they're all glitzed up on trancspike or too drenned to talk the straights, armed up like the gun-manufactories emptied out on them.

Rething right. It took me two days - two days! - to get down through the core crush, and that was the empty vert 'neath the Via Alchemica ward lows. The sputterdump up top leaks enough fyceline-green to keep even the crazy rethers away or dead. Reth, even the begger-children have rebreathers flesh-sutured in around there. You rething try the crush-spidering in a Klave sealsuit, done up like one of them high-fine spire dishes and ready for the cookers. Ditched it soon as I could, and it still took me about as long as Inquisitor Jonquad was willing to wait.

Reth, and that beremoth-faced bleeder from the army drew the crossway vent position halfway up the undervault bulkwall. Lucky rether was in like a thin sharp in a day, down the spine secondus Mechanicus lifters with the Inquisitor, and just ten markers of easy walking and climbing. Passing rething comments on the vox-link the whole time, when I could hear with the crush and all. Rether.

Now this was all a way after the burning and the screaming with the warpcraft in the Voltis spires, and after the macrorail terminus heretic scum Bothe and I turned up when cleaning loose ends. Real rething helpful we were, and Inquisitor Jonquad took me all the way to Gunmetal to help him drop the God-Emperor's own hammer on the Pancreator tainted. Would've taken Bothe too, but for that last metalface sinner with the autoblade. Real mess Bothe was after that one fell down, but still nothing left for the Arbites to work over - point of rething pride, there.

So's the Inquisitor'd got wind that some sinning heretic witch was being waited on by undervault Pancreator scum - has Gunmetal sewed up neat like a fingerglove, that one. Arbites bowing and scraping, glintspeakers on every deck, scints for the word. One thing led to another by way of grabbing a few sinners from the blackways and then up to that braincutting room in the Mechanicus spire. Now there's something to make a heretic scream and mess the vault floor - and he'd just but watched what happened the first rether to be put in the slot.

The rest of the scum, they was down there painting the bulkwalls like twists, banging on metal and chanting the bad names. Right beneath where I was taped up, they had the fires and some kind of big red plastent on top of a crushfall. Jonquad wanted the sinning right out and happening under our noses, the head Cultrix of all the heretics, spire and undervault, out in the open so as to point the Emperor's finger at them's most needing the hammer. Me and the beremoth being the hammer, with Jonquad and the rest to ...

Nah, Bothe was sitting this one out, I said. He was halfway stuck in some glow-vat while the medicae grew back the half of his arm got cut to blood and ribbons. Told him he shoulda' got the silver like me, touch of the Machine Spirits, makes everything work better - but you know what he's like about the Mechanicus. Now Jonquad, he had a bunch more army rethers from the Castrum Altus barracks where Gunmetal runs into the mountains. They was all down in the crushfall base and rot, the plan being to push the main sinners onto the open anvil, the better to hammer them rething flat and bloody.

Yeah, the rething plan. That went out the window pretty rething fast.

[Adnotamentum vocis :: signo temporis 3.668.804 M41
Archivist-Assignate Renna Hal]

Ah, the Interrogatus. It is the reason the Ordo maintains the Vexing Spire in Gunmetal City, and that under the strict and ancient terms of a Compact with the Magos of the Lathes. I am given to understand that the device is a sacred trust for the Mechanicus, a holy artifact of ages past with few parallels in the Golgenna Reach.

The Interrogatus occupies perhaps ten levels of the Spire, above the Machine Temple, and the Compact allows the Ordo to the sealed third level via the mid-spire landing platform. The device is swift and sublime in its operation; the Vault of Processing, and indeed the entire third level, are berefit of the Tech-Adepts and servitors who would swarm to tend any other device of such size. A single Tech-Priest accompanies Ordos retinues to the central chambers of the Interrogatus, to ensure that the correct rituals and terms are met. What lies within the other levels, I could not say, no more than I could divine the interior of the Machine Cult cube-temple that floats above the Heroes Processional.

The purpose of the device is information. A heretic is placed within the Euus Aperture and swallowed by the Interrogatus. The mechanisms of the device extract the living brain, which is cored and pierced by communicatory dentrites, set floating behind crystal in the Aspectus Vault. By terms of the Compact, an Inquisitor may ask no more than five questions of the Interrogatus prior to the death of the heretic's brain. The guiding Tech-Priest codifies each question into the wall-broad expanse of golden wires and rune keys that form the Lexicon Interrogatus, and an answer is provided through the same means by the holy mechanism.

The Interrogatus - much like the Moral Threat Seers of Magos Vermio - has never been well used by the Scintillan Conclave. By temperament, Inquisitors are inclined to trust loyal interrogators of study upbringing in the Scholarum Progenitum, and methods that leave a heretic broken and alive for further questioning. I cannot say I fault that point of view.

[ Posted by Reason on March 26, 2008 | Permanent Link ]

Hunting Xenos Assassin's Tools in Noble Spire Vaults

Aurealogi Belsepanium > Anni Aureum > Corruption Within House Klave

[Vox-record, servitor auscultavus :: signo temporis 3.003.806 M41
Armorium Alpha :: Ordo Missio Fortress :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla
Adept-Militant Bothe Ume]

God-Emperor, I don't know what to take up the Travodius for this one. Here, you look at what came down the pict-line ... no, start at the back - the Master of Actions always puts the worst of it at the back. The Inquisitor gave his blessing, put us out as ancillary to the Missio, got Jonus to work on what he does best, and said to use our discretion. So we're it, along with squad beta-1 and Adept Misrael for the parts that need High Gothic and formal dress.

That's his life, should have been born to it. I've never even been that high up the Hive spine, where the vaults are gold and platinum. Enough wealth and power to squash the whole hive flat in any Klave spiretop.

Flamers, yes. That's what I thought too, seeing that pict from Jonus. A lot of blood and ugly. But they'll let flamers - us with flamers - past the hard seals in the Travodius Spire on the day that the vision of Saint Drusus returns to the House Klave trancepts, flanked by all the angels of the Imperium - and not one moment earlier. So fire's out, plasma's out, and anything else that with that sort of spread.

These xenos bug-worm-teeth-things are for soft targets, that much of this seems straightforward. Finger-sized, only become aggressive with the right chemicals - a heretic assassin's weapon. They're fast, Jonus says, can leap across a room, and they'll dig their way into organs real quickly. That only works on people who panic, or go in unprepared.

Someone doesn't like House Cambellon, House Klave, or whoever it is now sealed up tight with corpses and House guards, but that's not for us to worry about right this minute. It makes you wonder how the Ordo uncovers events, though. By the Master's slate it's been, what, not more than half a day and the lightside Spire is sealed tight still. You and I, we have our sources where we know what's what, but this is a whole different level. Best be prepared for some pushback from the House guard and the seal gates, but that's what Misreal is for.

No, you think these xenos animals are going be still long enough to let you pick them off the parts of the vaultworks that didn't cost more than both our lives and this armorium besides? I'd say that multineedler's no more likely to get us in than the flamer. Let's keep it simple. Unpleasant, but simple. Full carapace, the kind with the joint seals but strip the extra shot-plates for mobility, use a hard-mask from the Arbites II model, and something like a small shock club. And a ceramite container. Yes, you heard. Read back past the xenoclassification runes and the spire map - the Correlators will want an undamaged sample for the xenoscept. I said it was unpleasant.

Of course I'm taking the Hysi. I didn't say I was going without some sort of handarm. I said we won't be using it on the xenos, since the House scions aren't going to let us anywhere near their precious manse vaults with any sort of real hardware. The Master's taking the velvet glove approach for the first look, at least, let the House feel like they're in control. We'll see how Misreal takes that when we see him on the landing deck.

Read the rest of the summaris and get the squad working on the carapace setup. Let them know they'll be crushing xenos for the God-Emperor - but bring the standard wargear as backup. We've got maybe thirty minutes, and then we're flying crosshive.

Well, you know how the higher Adepts think. We'll worry about that when the xenos are dead or in the buckets, but it can't hurt to keep a couple of the troopers back with Misreal to ensure House Cambellon and their retainers remain in place until the Master and the others arrive. They'll be wanting to ask pointed questions, I don't doubt.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2008 | Permanent Link ]

Early Discoveries

Aurealogi Belsepanium > Anni Aureum > Corruption Within House Klave

[Autocodicillus of Savant Pius Missen :: signo temporis 6.900.805 M41
Chapel Silencia :: Grim Light :: Empyreal Route
Adept-Militant Tisella Ivanesta]

There you are. You can't hide from me behind shelves and old tomes. I don't know why the Lady Matulite hasn't had this is all put to the pyre and cleared for better use - she doesn't seem to value it much, judging from the dust in the vaultways.

Whilst you have been lurking away here, doing little of any good, I have accomplished something of value at least. I admit I had thought this was the Inquisitor's way of punishing me, sent aboard a Matulite sect tradeship for a half-year watch over petty merchant house intrigues and a backwater system of uncivilized seedworld settlers, but it isn't all bad. The crew are as dull and monkish a band of Dreahans as I've ever seen, prayerslates and robes, half the ship a doleful shrine, and never a leer, but Artius Klave and his House retainers know how to live. He is most charmingly decadent, with a loose tongue and a delightful taste in strong young men - his hand-picked servants and bodyguards might have little choice in what he does with them, but they're all too interested in me.

Don't look so disapproving. What reward is work without pleasure? You play at lettered ascetism, but I see you glancing when you think I won't notice.

Don't you want to know what I've learned from my latest conquest? He was very eager to please, and seems to know more than his delicate ears should have heard. The last remnants of House Cambellon have divested their holdings on Scintilla, but sit upon a great treasure in their estate on Quaddis. A microvault of archeodata, generations old and tamper-sealed with a genokey based upon House Cambellon gene patterns - but the fools cannot open it, having diluted their blood with that of commoners. This entire expedition for a single dead scion's remains - and the much-heralded birthright contract - are all to provide additional gene patterns that House Klave believes will allow the Magos Biologis to safely force the microvault.

Do you know how many scints this cost? All the equipment, the chartered vessel, the House contracts, the retainers, the armsmen, the savants? They think it is worth it, for the contents of a data crystal smaller than your eye. I might be trapped upon a vessel of Dreahan monks headed into emptiness and seedworld backwaters for six months or more, but now I have something to find out, and a stable of willing young eyes and ears in the Klave expedition to assist me. I think I shall quite enjoy the challenge.

I suppose that by simple division of labor, my chosen path leaves interrogatory dialog with the Matulites up to you - I'm sure you have the temperament necessary to establish a rapport. Please don't frown, it doesn't suit you.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2008 | Permanent Link ]

Remnants of an Archeoexpedition

Aurealogi Belsepanium > Anni Aureum > Corruption Within House Klave

[Voxslate :: signo temporis 3.815.805 M41
Ocular Celestrum Dexter :: Ordo Missio Fortress :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla
Master-Correlation Ambrise Larrel]

I must apologise for the last minute change of agenda. Correlator-Assignate Bartu brought this to my attention yesterday, and its significance by the Metrica Compositus exceeds that of the planned examination of echoes from the Shrine Iridius Heresy. Interrogator Randt, Adept Ume, I will forgive you an early departure; I do not believe this matter to be of as great an interest to your associates.

If I can draw your attention to the silversheaf. It is a servitor transcript of a vox record originating from an archaeodig upon the largest dust moon in the Settlement 228 system.

"Armsmen Grild and Maxentil have not returned. There are now ten of us remaining, counting House Seer Volub, who remains in a catatonic state despite our best efforts. We have excavated too deeply, or something is here in these tunnels with us, come from above. Which it is is of no matter; what is, is. I have unsealed the armatorium casks and divided their contents. We will take the lasguns and heavy stubbers, and leave the demolition charges as a trap for those who took Grild, Maxentil and the others. I have ordered the expedition, such as it remains, to make ready the undamaged suspensor platforms. We will attempt a navigation of the uncleared gamma-upper corridors and shaftways of this maze to a speculative secondary entry in the hills above the prime encampment. From there, we may have more options - to stay where we are is to be carved away to nothing, one by one."

The vox record is twelve years old, made by scion Tyreus of then-House Minor Cambellon. It came to the attention of the Ordos through a correlation between vanishment of the Cambellon archeodig expedition and Index Oblivius references to Inquisitorial action upon that dust moon three hundred years ago, during pre-Settlement surveys. Unfortunately, that history is lost to us, archived in the Fenksworld Librarum Primus until its destruction. We have uncovered no knowledge of what or who was involved in our further inquiries.

The vox record was returned, along with archeodig devices and materials, by the expedition secondus, originally intended to replace the expedition primus. They left the dust moon shortly after assessing the dig site and retrieving what little was to be found. The archeodig was a financial disaster for House Minor Cambellon. The Lords Cambellon have since entered into a birthright contract with the Yonu branch of House Klave, as yet another reluctant consolidation of Houses Minor under the Lords Klave.

I am presently petitioning the Klave Spires for access to datavaults and archives of the material recovered from the expedition primus. I would welcome, Inquisitor, your more weighty petition to the same ends. It is, as you point out, hard to assign an accurate priority in absence of greater knowledge of the archeoruins and artifacts recovered. I can be certain that there was nothing of an overtly heretical or unorthodox xenos origin, for Ordo adepts were given access to the materials soon after their return. The reports are lacking in detail, however. All we have been able to discover is the vox record, cogitators containing archeoruin maps and inventories, and some few picts of nondescript artifacts and tunnels.

Why are we discussing this today, rather than lesser heresies in the Iridius forests? Quite. House Klave is in the final stages of initiating a further, well-equipped expedition to the dust moon, seemingly with the primary goal of locating the remains of Tyreus Cambellon rather than any further archeoexcavation. The trader vessel Grim Light, presently docked at Aberix Orbitus, has been chartered for this purpose, and Klave retainers already begin to load supplies. This may have been planned for some time, awaiting the final Administratum seal upon the Cambellon-Klave-Yonu birthright contract, but I have no further insight into the motivation behind such an inordinate expense. House Klave has grown large upon profit, and I see no profit in this endeavor.

My recommendation, Inquisitor, is for a modest Ordos retinue to accompany the House Klave retainers upon their journey, with the intent of an Assessment Cardinal of the dust moon. I prioritize this as Beta level, given the time it will likely take to secure the willing cooperation of House Klave in this matter, and the immediacy of the opportunity.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2008 | Permanent Link ]

Hunting Scion Trall of House Minor Castigan

Aurealogi Belsepanium > Anni Aureum > Warpcraft Spilled From Noble Hive Spires

[Manse vox-record :: signo temporis 3.269.801 M41
Armorium :: Seven Hall Manse :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla
Adept-Militant Grambald]

What's the straight on this one, then? Another rething high-caste with the brainworms from the warp? Give it here - can't las holes in the rether if I don't know what he looks like.

Le'see, just you and me on this one, down into the underhive and find this latest rething scum. Suppose the Inquisitor don't think so much of this sinner, or reth, maybe he thinks we're the silver now after that last bloody throw down.

So's his own blood came running to the Ministorum, or so this says - naffed up his playing around at warp-craft. And they burned out his manse themselves. Industrious rethers. Two chips says the eye of the Inquisitor's on them, and we're just cleaning up spilled tranc. Glint on top o' that says this is all more from the Trall Spire melt. Like when you burns the corner hab just to watch and see who runs - make the rething sinners hiding away to jump up and think they're next for the ax.

Didn't I say that Ministorum bronze should just clear out all the fancy halls in the hive spires? All the killing and the cutting in the low habs and black levels, 's honest and Emperor-fearing, that is. Bloods might be scum and rething filth of the hive, but they don't keep servants chained up to chant over, cut and whatever else it says on this rething dataslate.

Now there's a question. How's Trall rething Castigan, lately Hereticus, know where the low habs and understruts even are, never you mind avoiding having his rething arse cut ten ways for his fancy augmetics. Way I think it is, we're off to shove a ready barrel into the ear of some spire-climbing low-hiver with a shiny new secret.

It's been years since I went down Barsk's way, but he still owes me a pile and glint from times ago. Won't he just be screwed up in the face to see debt walking in the door. You play high-market vat muscle, just about right for a Blood done good, and I'll do the talking.

Nah, really, I'll do the talking this time. You're just all trouble every rething time we go below.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2008 | Permanent Link ]

The Pancreator's Warpsong

Aurealogi Belsepanium > Anni Aureum > Warpcraft Spilled From Noble Hive Spires

[Memoria mechanicus :: servitor calvaria b-i-12t :: signo temporis 3.261.801 M41
Gilded Reception :: Seven Hall Manse :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla
Inquisitor-Minor Conestus Jonquad]

Thank you, but this is not a social occasion. Your "shabby, elusive little heretic" of the Wintersun Feasts two years past has come to light once more, and I have need of your knowledge with regard to the Pancreator cult.

You are aware of the disturbance reported a day ago by the Lux Astropathica? Whatever the source, it left a warp-taint in the Trall spires. The second Black company took one of the vat-cloistered as pointer and a brace of weapon servitors to what turned out to be a Manse Communis of unfavored House Trall scions. There, they found the signs and waste of an Empyric intrusion. There was a single survivor within, too maddened into quietude to respond to the standard panapoly of interrogative techniques. There will no doubt be others who fled.

Yes, I am choleric. Spire Arbites have the entire level sealed. The Manse, corpses and body fragments will be plasma-burned once all has been picted and the artifacts catalogued by the Missio savants. I am far more concerned with the possibility that Empyric entities have been loosed within Hive Voltis, as are my Mallus associates. Mark my words when I say that the gilted of House Trall will suffer duly and willingly for the heretical acts of their blood.

The truth and tale will out, and we must hope that past will illuminate the immediate future.

Let me show you this pict, here, third in the dataslate. Do you recognize the runes and patterning of the vox-player? Yes, I thought so. Savant Aramateus died of a violent brain flux whilst listening to the vox records within, and three of my other trusted dataseers are restrained within the Missio fortress medicae vaults for psychic examination. I destroyed the servitor-transcript and servitor that made it in blessed plasma. Have you ever heard a servitor trying to scream?

There is a taint upon the vox-noise here, of which I heard but the slightest muted fragment. It was screaming and voices, whispers from the throat of the Archenemy, and it needles my soul yet despite the blessings and pray-seals of the good Pater Monomus.

I will have the head of he who made this, to set within the sustaining vat and torment forth every last secret that will let us banish this form of taint forever from the Emperor's sight. This I swear upon the Throne and the echoes in my head.

Now, tell me of this heretic, his career as vox-artisan of the sordid and forbidden, sought after by the degenerate of the spire Houses. Tell me of the Pancreator vermin who nurtured his curse upon the Wintersun Feasting.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2008 | Permanent Link ]

Vile Echoes of the Pancreator's Dark Mass

Aurealogi Belsepanium > Anni Aureum > Warpcraft Spilled From Noble Hive Spires

[Transcriptus vocis peculiaris :: signo temporis 3.412.799 M41
Indexarum Hereticae :: Ordo Missio Fortress :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla
Master-Indexus Folm Wardeque]

Ah, hmm. Pancreatrix, the, Pancreas of Saint Tineval, Miracles of. Ah! Pancreator, Adorants of. No, a moment. Ah! Pancreator, Order of. There, the Principia Summaris crystal for this entry, and there, the data thief socket. You are, ah, fortunate indeed. Too little archaodata is so, ah, convenienced by the tech priests of our period.

Though. Hmm.

I ponder that these Adorants might not be one and the same. Hmm. A persistant heresy if so. Look, ah, it is under the seal of the great Inquisitor Pethimen, Emperor bless his soul, and the purity seal of Master Ambulon from the Third Reindexing Period. Ah, and I but lately recall an Index Secundus for all the coinings and, ah, nomenclature of Inquisitor Pethimen's savants. Hmm. From the first half of his Procession Through the Heresies only.

Of course, hmm, you may peruse it all. Ah! It is my pleasure. Least-Archivist Rustish will attend your needs and questions. Once he is under the blinding crown, ah, simply tap these two levers to engage his attentions once more. Ah, the order is important. The Emperor protects, hmm?

[Indexus Hereticae :: Order of the Pancreator :: signo temporis 8.000.410 M41]

Whereasby such foemen I assigned Hereticus, and contenanced by thyse ways I numbereth hence, praise thee Empyror and Throne.

I. Beandthey throw forth stout faith asundthough thee and I. Yth most sturdy, but of false strength aforethought, as thee youngyst mummer fain strives.

II. Beandthey gathereth by darkend vault, but of false secrecy and neath pennon of noble acts Impyrial, yth to gathereth envy and admyration afore.

III. Beandthey two and two, fools without and kyngs within. Yet they art buildeth the wall twixt low in greed, yth and by a knave may climeth from Impyrial lyght hence to darkness.

IV. Beandthey clothed as holy priest upon Ambrival, almsmen and tutor upon Wersy, guard of the Impyrium and Empyror upon Calvax Secondus. Within holy shrines doth the better part of fools gathereth, a mockery cast by kyngs and yth fain cry for the hammer.

V. Beandthey keepeth most secret a place of kyngs, asundthough a vault of Preceptors, yth within to cast out Empyror and Impyrium from hearts and pennons.

VI. Beandthey art kyngs do call Materium born of Empyrean, yth which kyngs calleth Pancreator, and seek by craft to cry forth Echoes of birth.

VII. Beandthey keepeth hidden tomes and scrypt of silver to speaketh of a Pancreator and forbydden words, yth by which thee knoweth Hereticus in thee heart.

VIII. Beandthey pull short the holy barrier with the Empyrean through craft, and set about fools for to cast down holy works in secret, yth to hear Echoes.

IX. Beandthey fain a road for daemons, yth to cry for the hammer.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2008 | Permanent Link ]

Adept-Militant Grambald

Aurealogi Belsepanium > In Memorium

[Adnotamentum vocis :: signo temporis 6.050.813 M41
Savant Jonus Toll]

The one story Grambald never told us was of how he rose from the least of the faithful, from that blackened and violent obscurity amidst Hive Voltis' low habs, to serve the God-Emperor's Ordos. He came into the service of Hrald Belsepan long before I, in those early years when grand old Inquisitor Tor still cast his gaze upon Scintilla.

As the design of the Via Sinister became clear these past years, Inquisitor Belsepan came to consider Grambald an instrument of the God-Emperor's will, albeit arraigned in a manner fit to turn the nose of any Ecclesiarch. Fate is a twisted skein; what of the Calixian extent had Grambald not brought tranc into the Seven Hall Manse shrine that night, and in drinking to the dead, roused Aybehan's legacy from its torpor?

Of all the many things I could find to say of Grambald, Emperor rest him, I think that which best illustrates his character is this: that he hid his illiteracy, so common amongst the teeming masses and predatory hivegangers of corroded low habs, out of pride and until such time as he overcame it. He achieved that goal, so far as I know, without help, through sheer force of will, and a single copy of Vemel's Sollemni Imperia.

[Cista vocis tactica, Vertigan Golgenna pattern :: signo temporis 6.798.795 M41
Flight Black oX-11 :: Sky Deck Alpha :: Ordo Missio Fortress :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla
Adept-Militant Grambald]

More 'an just some rething old lasgun, this - and keep yer fingers to yer own warstash. This is the old-style las took the rething head clean rething off Ungus Erroch. Clean off, like the Emperor's Finger came down and squashed him for what he did. The filth around him, they howled and screamed 'til Bothe and the Windrinders cut them to blood and tatters.

Belsepan made Cardinal Secundus high-and-mighty Rufello bless this las and my live-tats in the Cathedra Trancine after all was done and sealed. Made him! Me, late of the Bloods, setting foot in the Trancine under the Emperor's eyes, white marble and gold statue servitors with the wings and prayer-scripts - I tell you, there were some long dead down in the underhive laughing at that, Emperor rest them, those that deserved better anyhow.

The look on Rufello's face was something. Like he rething knew how many died over this las. I was half the height I am now when it came down into the low habs; Annek had it as a club until Borka got it working, and then some Grunuch crew killed her good for it. They got theirs from Bloods, and then there was the girls to be thinking about for the years after that, so who knows the gangers who got their spit and blood grimed into the workings.

But it came back to me, by way of rething cutting the arms off The Murky for his sins against the Bloods, and here it is. All the killing and the cutting and the burning has to teach you something, I say - whether you's a las or a man passing through the low habs and what's below that. Teach you there's something better, or teach you what yer good at, one, other or both.

So take a good look, coz yer won't see another rething weapon the equal of this. The Emperor works His ways, and so's I see it, He blessed this las long before the smell of it was getting into the Cardinal's nose.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2008 | Permanent Link ]

A Sharing of Knowledge, After the Fact

Aurealogi Belsepanium > Anni Aureum > The Silence of Griddish

[tabula anima sub 6 :: servitor transcriptus 23.1.b :: signo temporis 4.261.805 M41
Transceptus Capitis :: Ordo Missio Fortress :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla]

Continuance, tabula sub 5.
G: Adept-Militant Grambald
R: Inquisitor Lammis Ru-Tariy

G: He was a good man, and let's forget the rest. But reth, we're not here so's I can catch up on your happenstance this past year. Where was I?

R: Captain-Designate E, the "rething bastard."

G: Rething bastard. See that? See my hand? Servos twitchin' like they want a jug of tranc every time I think about him. That's why I let you distract me with yer tall stories.

[R shrugs]

G: Them Ordo Mallus mindwipes act so naffing high and mighty. Glorified servitors like her here [B gestures towards Transcription Unit 23.1.b] if you ask me, just less flash and metal polish. Oh, he'd stick macro-cannon up the arse of anyone who'd blew us to plasma, but he'd take his rething time about it, make good and sure he had something to revenge.

[R drinks from a flask, guestures for G to continue]

G: Reth, sorry. So the great and glorious Black 2 and rething bastard E was our ticket to Griddish, thanks to strings pulled somewhere. You's ridden Mallus ships, so you know where the glint falls. It's a tomb for the living - no tranc, no cards, no dice, no women can do more than make the blank face. Long weeks in Master Frek's needleship, middle of Hold 3, nothing to do but listen to Frek pray the same prayer under the aquila and Ume and Ve tell the same rething stories over and over. Reth, I was there for half of them, and they still can't get it naffing right!

[G motions for the flask, takes it, sniffs it, passes it back]

G: Shoulda known it wasn't the good stuff. All this time in the void, Admar - sorry, "Inquisitor Sertel Admar" to the likes of me - was holed up with the mindwipes and Jonus Toll in the Black 2 datastacks, trying to make a catch of the thin line that dragged us to Griddish. Something to prove, both those two. One of these years they'll figure out you don' have to plan it out quite so rething much, and the last place yer going to find the answers to what's about to bite yer arse is in a dataslate.

R: Your "thin line" would be the last Astropathic communications from Griddish prior to the silence, regarding a xenos strain taking root in the beremoth herds. They were ambiguous, yes.

G: That's the sort of word Toll'd use. Probably used it a lot, not that I saw. Why not just send a transport and some poor guard rethers to poke at the beasts and see which end was which, that's what Ume and I said. But no, someone knew something, and there we were on Black 2 - and it was burning Admar something hard to not be the one who knew. "I feel it's important" says Hrald, by way of one of that message servitor we all hate the look of, and you know how that is.

R: Indeed.

G: Here's what burned me. Every day, sharp at the same time, like the crack-slap in sub H of the old hab, there's be rething bastard Captain-Designate E at the hold watch station. Looked at the needleship like it was a wart on his face for the count of thirty, and back again to the bridge.

R: It begins to sound like a pact of mutual admiration.

[G glares at R]

[tabula anima sub 33 :: servitor transcriptus 23.1.b :: signo temporis 4.262.805 M41
Transceptus Capitis :: Ordo Missio Fortress :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla]

Continuance, tabula sub 5.
B: Adept-Militant Bothe Ume
R: Inquisitor Lammis Ru-Tariy

B: Now - you know the Master isn't like that. Frek's the Emperor's own when he isn't at the control pulpit, holy as an Ecclesiarch, makes the rest of us look like war-muscle warmed right from the vats. I've never heard him tell anyone where he learned to pilot. No, no war stories, just like last time.

R: The Emperor protects.

B: That he does, and glad I am of it when the Master is piloting.

[B makes the sign of the aquila]

I wouldn't say scrapping and lasfire flying make me feel comfortable and homey, back in the bunkers and pollen fields, but it's a step up from being strapped in the Thin and Narrow, upside-down and flying sideways, waiting for the other boot to drop.

R: Shooting back is powerful medicine.

[B nods sagely]

B: I'll have to learn to work those pin-guns on the needleship one of these days. It can't be much harder than raking flak at the Vervai's servitor drones from a moving Hydra. I haven't talked Ve and Frek into it yet, though - they say I wreck every vehicle I touch.

[R laughs]

R: There's a certain truth to that - I've heard the stories. The Arbites Leman Russ in the mid-level hab riots two years ago? The stride-tank on Heth?

[B laughs harshly]

B: Heth. It was Hesh, after Mirel went blind into the war-fields. [B pauses] Did I ever tell you how much I loathe the Mechanicus?

[Pause of 14.6 seconds]

R: The Mechanicus, then, let us pick up there.

[B sighs]

B: The lance strikes on Griddish that Ve's auspex work picked on the way in from where Black 2 left us. That was Magos Kergan's vessel. An explorator sphere, old as old, and no doubt just as rotten. I'll tell you this: I'm glad I didn't have to go face to face with the Magos and tell him the God-Emperor's will.

[Pause of 3.2 seconds]

They look like wet squus, you know, washed up on the beach below the ghostfire line on the dunes - poisonous, slimy. Except the tentacles are made of metal. The ship was just like that, spiny and wrapped about with tentacles. Docking was like being eaten by a giant squus, flex-arms twenty times the size of the Thin and Narrow shoving us in.

R: No other Imperial vessels at all?

B: Eaten, for all we knew. Griddish never sees much beyond trader deephulls for the slaughter season. Not a scrap of orbital docking, or so Ve said, and it wasn't slaughter season. Just us and the Mechanicus squus; the Mallus ship that brought us was long gone by the time Magos Kergan was telling Inquisitor Admar that we were "quite mistaken" about the lance strikes. "Quite mistaken" - just like that.

[Pause of 1.7 seonds]

B: There's another thing: squus can't lie through their shiny, metal vox-plant, and they don't come packing armored regiments of tech guard. Mechanicus redcloaks don't know what the truth tastes like anymore, and there's the God-Emperor's own number of them. I'll take the squus any day. So I watched the needleship with Frek and Jonus, while the Inquisitor and the others went inside to lay down the Imperial law.

[ Posted by Reason on March 24, 2008 | Permanent Link ]