# Souls of Blood



## Illiadar (Jan 21, 2010)

Hello to anybody reading this! This is my first real short story set in the 40k universe, and it centers around Inquisitor Lord Renurt and his underlings. The pace is erratic, the writing degrades after chapter 2, and it doesn't have enough detail, but i thought I'd post the first chapter here anyway. I've written five chapters total, or nine pages. So without further ado:

Souls of Blood​
Chapter One
The spartan room was illuminated dimly by lights built into the floor. Crystals hung in the air whimsically around the fringes, slowly rising and falling like the tide. The walls were curved, ending in two points, one of which possessed an almost unnoticeable door. The only sound that could be heard was the faint hum of engines. And in the center of the room, sitting perfectly still in meditation, was a man. 

He wore long robes, a gold necklace from which an ornate “I” hung, and a serene expression. The back of his bare head sported cybernetic implants. His long interlaced fingers wore three rather large rings, or, more accurately, three very tiny weapons. He breathed only three times every minute, and each breath was shallow and dry. His eyes were closed, hiding his piercing stare from the walls. One could easily think him dead, if they did not know better.

Presently, a small sound cut through the air. “I told you Chelen, I wanted no interruptions.” The man’s eyes stayed closed, but he stood up.

The door slid open, separating at the point and leaving a one-meter wide space. A rough-looking man walked through. His face had been fair once, a long time ago. But now it was rent by scars, and carved stolid by years of battle. Though his chestnut brown hair was unkempt, his hands were clasped neatly behind his rigid back. “I’m sorry sir, but we’ve received new orders. I thought them important enough to tell you.”

“And what might those be?” As he turned around, his eyes opened. They were an unsettling, dull gold, but Chelen met them with his own. “And please, call me Aminar, or at least Lord Renurt.”

“Yes, I’m sorry Lord Renurt.” Chelen swallowed, choosing the more formal of the titles proffered to him. He still couldn’t get used to not calling his master “sir”, or the fact that “Lord Renurt” didn’t address him with his last name, Turinas. Inquisitors were the strangest of people… “The new orders are to investigate a series of attacks by the Xenos in the Helican Subsector. The inquisition assumes these attacks are coming from the planet Nuriam, which was recently uncovered by warp storms. The attacks are-”

“What sort of Xenos?” Inquisitor Lord Renurt strode regally out of the room, motioning for Chelen to follow.

“Those blasted Eldar, Lord Renurt.” Chelen walked quickly behind Renurt through a long hallway, lined with expensive works of art, marble statues and paintings of battle. “We’ll need some help with this. Last time we fought Eldar, I lost nearly half my men. There is-”

“A detachment of Silver Skulls which is more or less on our course. I was aware. I suppose I’ll have to commandeer a company or so.” He threw about those terms so casually, it almost scared Chelen. How could the Inquisitors wield so much power? At least he knew Lord Renurt was a good man, having served with him for just over a year. They turned a corner, heading toward a turbolift. “I expect your men to be ready when we welcome our new allies onto the Ironsoul.”

The Ironsoul was the colossus they lived on, and Inquisitor Lord Renurt‘s base of operations. One of the few venerable Grand Cruisers in the Imperial Navy, it was over two kilometers long, and had a crew of 1,000,000 men, along with a military complement of 500,000 Inquisitorial Stormtroopers. It also held 100,000 Dropships, 500,000 APCs, 20,000 Destroyers, over 100,000 Fighters, 75,000 tanks, 50,000 artillery pieces, and, strangest of all, a multitude of forgotten communities on its lower decks. The ship was so huge, not even the administrative staff could keep track of all its operations. Chelen didn’t know the manner in which it was acquired, but he knew it was an older ship. In fact, Renurt hadn’t even explored some of its lower decks. For all they knew, there could be a hole in the universe down there, and Chelen even found that somewhat probable. In the previously unexplored decks they had braved, there was everything from towns of stowaways to traitor guardsmen who had gotten sealed away in some portion of the ship during a boarding action. An icy shiver ran down his spine as he remembered a time he and his squad got lost in the labyrinth of Deck 23...

Renurt turned about, coughing artificially and bringing Chelen back into the present. “Oh, yes sir, I’ll get all my men prepared. Count on it.” and Renurt strode into the turbolift, the sleek doors closing behind him. Chelen was left with a vague feeling of uneasiness and apprehension. It always happened before he went off to fight, but this seemed… worse. He headed off to his quarters to get some rest. It had been a long day.


Postscript- Is there a way to include margins in posts? I find that stories with this sort of format are hard to read, but that may not be the case for anyone else.


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## Inquisitor Varrius (Jul 3, 2008)

It's good! There are a few grammar errors, methinks, but the writing is pretty solid. Incidentally, I like your Inquisitor. The character description feels great to me (I'm biased, WH were my first 40k love) and his tranquil attitude is very nice. To what ordo does he belong?

Oh, and welcome to Heresy!


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## Illiadar (Jan 21, 2010)

Thanks! I've actually been part of heresy for a couple months now, i just don't tend to post much. On Inquisitor Renurt- he's not calm all the time though, just in meditation. He's part of Ordo... actually I'm not sure, really. Probably Ordo Xenos if he's going to stop Eldar attacks, although later on you discover it's plausible for him to part of Ordo Malleus or maybe Ordo Hereticus. Which would open sort of a plot hole of why he wasn't informed, so Ordo Xenos is the best answer. Well, you like it, so chapter two (this is my favorite chapter)-

Chapter Two
“Unacceptable!” A ceramite-plated fist slammed down onto the marble table, cracks spidering out from the point of impact. “One or two tactical squads might not hinder our efforts too much, but one and a half companies?”

“My captain, you forget that I am the one who has been given the title of Inquisitor Lord.” Illius Renurt responded coolly. He was face to face with a behemoth of a man, one who had killed hundreds of people, one who could be shot 20 times with a lasgun and live, one who could crush Renurt’s skull in his bare hands. But it was obvious to any bystander that the smaller was the greater man. “What remains of them shall be returned in due course. Now, unless you wish a quarrel with the Inquisition, I’d like your fourth company and half of your fifth company. I believe the Howling Griffons have a company which recently finished their campaign, perhaps they’ll be sufficiently… amiable to help you. Or do you seek a quarrel with the Inquisition?”

The Space Marine stood up, growling softly. He whirled about and strode away, his heavy cloak dragging on the floor. He elbowed aside the guards, storming away through the corridor. For a brief moment, everybody was still, Renurt still standing over the table with his hands in tight fists. Then, suddenly-

“Well, that went well, didn’t it.” Renurt stood up, his face melting from anger to surprise. “Purilas, will you be able to house 150 space marines, along with their equipment and their vehicles? Oh, and do make sure they receive our best accommodations. We wouldn’t want any trouble.”

“Sir, we’ll have to move most of the officers to other quarters, and to fit in their equipment we may have to jettison our supplies, or clear out Deck 15.” Admiral Purilas Irrihd was a small man, but very skilled. He was shifting around uncomfortably in his dress uniform. Beside him was Chelen, who also looked extremely out of place, all dressed up so. To Chelen’s right were his senior officers, and to Purilas’ left were his.

“Inquisitor Lord!” One of the space marines came up to Renurt, a sergeant perhaps. His expression was unreadable, and his tone barely disguised his annoyance. “I apologize for our Captain’s behavior. The Silver Skulls have the utmost of respect for the Inquisition, and we seek no fight with you.”

“Thank you.” The space marine stayed only just until Renurt finished his response, then strode away quickly, his ceramite armor clanking loudly down the corridor.

“Lord Renurt!” Chelen walked up to him, his face creased with worry, and his clammy hands clasped behind him. “The Inquisition will have your skin for this. I don’t-”

“Chelen, let them try. In any case, our more immediate concern is this upcoming campaign, and these new space marines to be housed. Take a few platoons down to Deck 15.” Renurt had an unmatched air of command about him. “If its really necessary, you can use the stockpiles of explosives in Storage Room 6. Make sure it’s completely cleared of possible threats, we wouldn’t want the “Angel’s of Death” ’s precious equipment damaged.”

“Yes sir!” Chelen started off on a run, then decided against it. He didn't look reassured, but instead glad to have work. The doors parted to his brisk pace, but before they sealed again, Renurt called after him.

“No, no, come back here.” One of his long fingers motioned him back. “Tomorrow afternoon I want reports from both of you on crew morale. Chelen, after you’ve eradicated whatever’s infesting Deck 15, I want you drilling your men 6 hours a day until arrival. All dismissed, except for you, Purilas.” The gold eyes swept over Purilas as the senior officers left.

“Purilas.” The long fingers drummed the table, in anticipation. “You’ve been going against my orders and questioning me far too much.”

“You’ve been making decisions that jeopardize the lives of everyone on this ship!” Purilas swallowed twice, licking his lips. His mind was racing. He had been backed into a corner by this wolf of a man, this reckless misfit who had been given such extreme power.

“I have been carrying out my duties to the Imperium!” His hands clenched into fists, and his eyes narrowed, staring accusingly. “The same cannot be said for you!”

“The Imperium which now has become so corrupt it’s not worth serving anymore!” He was shouting now, shouting words of truth he had longed to say.

“Would you have us fracture and become piecemeal for the threats within, without, and beyond?” A fist slammed down on the table. “Dictatorial rule is justified! We are preserving humanity!”

The air hummed with anger now. The conversation was being stretched so thin, so close to snapping. Both men had flames raging in their glaring eyes.

“You.” A finger was raised, pointing, blaming. “And everyone like you, are stripping us of everything that makes us human! Every freedom we once valued!”

“So you would die?” Arms, crossed about his chest. “Die rather than follow your protectors, your masters?”

“I would die free, than live under such tyranny and repression.”

And in an instant, it all happened. Renurt’s hands unclenched, and the digital weapons on his fingers let forth their wrath. The air screamed for the pain to stop. The remains of Purilas, a charred skeleton, fell to the floor, still licked by flames. There was not time for him to scream, not time for any defense. Slowly, Renurt knelt down and, with a glowing, crystalline knife, scratched the symbol in the Inquisition in Purilas’ skull. Sighing, Renurt stood up.

“Shame, I’ll need a new captain for this ship.” He sheathed his knife, adjusted his collar, and strode away, out of the room.


Postscript- One of my friends informed me that an Inquisitor would never be able to take one and a half companies, but i thought that compared to tens of thousands of troopers, its not that much. I've never read any 40k books, so i don't know exactly how powerful Inquisitors and space marines are...


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## Inquisitor Varrius (Jul 3, 2008)

> might not hinder out


Hinder our efforts.



> you can use to stockpiles of explosives


I think you mean 'the stockpiles.'



> glowing, crystalline, scratched the symbol in the Inquisition


A glowing, crystalline what?

It's still pretty nice. My bones to pick are all fluff related:

Any SM captain who mouthed-off an inquisitor would soon be looking for his torso. The Astartes are typically pretty subservient to the ordos, at least in person. Consider having a second SM nearby to apologize or reprimand the captain, as his behaviour is unusual.

Also, while digital weapons are cool, the odds they'd kill a veteran guardsman are less than perfect. Maybe Lord Renurt could just fry him with psychics? Most Inquisitors have a few mental tricks up their sleeves. 

Your postscrip is correct, no Inquisitor would/could take that many SM. It's not the number of bodies, but the skill and investment they represent. Each Marine is worth quite a few guardsmen in combat, and take a long time to replace. More than one Inquisitor has 'disappeared' after pushing the Astartes to far. In that regard, the Captain's response is totally justified. I'm not saying you couldn't do this, but at the very least the Marines would be telling Renurt's superiors. At the worst, he'd suffer an unfortunate incident with the ship airlocks. Again, it depends on your chapter and individual marines, but that's a very risky and uncommon move.

Beyond the fluff things, this seems like a really good start. Keep it up!


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## Illiadar (Jan 21, 2010)

Sorry about all the grammar mistakes, i haven't revised this. I'll be sure to do so before posting other chapters.

About the digital weapons- digital weapons are "powerful, miniaturised versions of such weapons as the needler and laspistol" (Codex: Daemonhunters). That implies that they're not limited to being needle/las pistols. I think of Renurt as a very powerful individual, so i thought flamers would be apt digital weapons for him. As such, wouldn't three flamers be able to vaporize an unarmored guardsman? Maybe not, but i always had the impression that flamers were fairly powerful.

I think I'll work on somewhat rewriting this chapter with your recommendations. Thanks!

Edit: Finished the revisions. They're in the post of the second chapter now.


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## Inquisitor Varrius (Jul 3, 2008)

I'm running off the WH codex, which says digital weapons inflict a S4 hit on a 4+. In other words, your looking at a 50% chance of a hit, and a2:1 odds of death if they hit. Flamers, on the other hand, are incredibly capable of barbecuing an IG. However, to the best of my knowledge, they don't make easily concealed flamers in rings. I'm not saying you can't, just that I don't know of any. 

My psychic suggestion was "Scourging," a WH power that is stronger and gets more attacks. This could also manifest as fire. Alternatively, "Hammerhand" equips the Inquisitor with temporary, psychic powerfists that strike at normal initiative. Those would be more than capable of tearing a Guardsman in half.

As one more nit-picky thing (sorry!) the SM addressing the Lord would probably say "my lord" or "m'lord." The Inquisitor part is implied. I like Ordos-themed stuff, it's a good read!

Oh, is Renurt a radical?


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## Illiadar (Jan 21, 2010)

The rules for digital weapons imply the heat of battle, so under conditions such as in chapter two they'd probably automatically hit. Secondly, about there being no flamers, I assume that's because las/needle weapons are much more precise and subtle. In Rogue Trader (1st edition 40k, not the RPG) (which is not an optimal source, i realize), digital weapons are simply miniaturized versions of any weapon. Even if flamer digital weapons are nonexistent in the current fluff, they should be, and that's the beauty of 40k. You can simply create things.

About the psychic powers- there'll be a psychic power later on in the story which will probably bug you. I'm assuming that Inquisitors have access to psychic powers which are at least as powerful as the ones Space Marine Librarians use. The Daemonhunters/Witch Hunters psychic powers are extraordinarily underpowered compared to space marine of tyranid psychic powers not for specific fluff reasons, but rather because psychic powers used to be much weaker, as a general rule. They've just become more powerful, which does not mean that Inquisitors (in fluff) should be limited to such powers as their codex powers.

I feel a bit lazy, so I'm not going to change your nitpick.

Renurt is not a radical per se, rather, he seeks power and doesn't care much for rules that people like to impose on him. If he thinks he can get away with something and it will sufficiently aid him, he'll take/do it. That may constitute radical things, but does not exactly make him a radical. Does that make sense?


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## Inquisitor Varrius (Jul 3, 2008)

I'm totally ok with you ignoring my nitty-gritty, I just thought I'd tell you.  I do agree the Inquisitor's have ultra-lame psychics, I look forward to whatever you cook up. 

And I get the gist of how Renurt is on the radical/puritan scale, so that's good too. Thanks for explaining some stuff!


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## Illiadar (Jan 21, 2010)

Yep np. Glad you're enjoying my story, never thought people would think it was good.

Chapter Three
Annoyed, Chelen snapped up, rubbing his eyes. Alarms blared all around, along with the soft words “Emergency, Deck 12, Section 42“. Chelen injected himself with a stimpack, trying to remember what was at Section 42 of Deck 12. He could feel the stimpack relieving his drowsiness as he grabbed his combi-melta. Chelen cursed aloud. Section 42... That was Lord Renurt’s quarters! Grabbing another stimpack and his carapace armor, he rushed out the door.

His mind was clearer now. Who could want Lord Renurt dead? How would they get on the ship? Unless, of course, there was a traitor in their midst. Chestplate secure. At any rate, how was he alone going to stop them? There was no way the new recruits could act this fast, and besides, only the senior officers slept on Deck 12. They could be counted on- to a point. Not all of them are soldiers. Another stimpack in his arm, another surge of energy. It was also possible that Renurt was already dead. Shoulderpads on, not quite securely. Good enough.

“Chelen!” A call from behind him. He allowed himself a glance back, while rounding a corner. He could only see a blur, but he was almost certain it was Tylari, the lead psyker. He could tolerate most psykers, but every time he was in the same room as Tylari, shivers ran down his spine like lasgun shots.

“It’s no use!” Tyrali sounded so certain, maybe that’s what was so creepy about him. “You can’t help him!” There was an air about his voice, something that told the world he could not be wrong. Chelen couldn’t bear to listen to this crap. If there was the remotest chance that he could help Lord Renurt, he was taking it. He swept around another corner, flying into Renurt’s quarters. After his vision cleared, his eyes saw one thing. Eldar. Wearing ornate crimson suits of armor, they stood, unmoving, in a circle in the center of Lord Renurt’s lavishly decorated quarters. They looked almost ghostly, each one flitting in and out of opaqueness like an indecisive spirit. And at their center were Renurt and what seemed the leader of the Eldar. Renurt had only a practical set of clothes on, no armor at all. The first hit to his chest would mean his last breath. Their blades clashed. Once, twice, three times. The dance of blades intensified, and Chelen could no longer track it.

Snapping back into reality from the hypnotism of the duel, Chelen readied his bolter, and swept the room with shots. Explosive bolts sprang out of his gun, sliding through the Eldar and Renurt, and finally coming to a halt at the far wall, where they exploded, ripping a hole into a cargo hold.

“Lord Renurt!” Chelen yelled it, straining to keep his voice above the screams of the blades But his Lord went on fighting unable, unwilling, or unaware.

“Chelen!” Tyrali entered the room, his silver-trimmed azure robes sweeping behind him. “Don’t be a fool! I told you that you can’t help him!”

“Where is he?” Chelen demanded, raising his boltgun back up for another futile burst of bolts. “What’s happening?”

“Not on this ship, surely.” Tyrali crossed next to Chelen was standing, staring blankly at the battle. “I’ve never seen a psychic power like this. This could be-”

“Tyrali! Chelen!” Ranniq came rushing into the room. He had a suit of carapace armor pulled over his nightclothes, a bolt pistol in one hand, and an engraved staff in another. Ranniq was Lord Renurt’s only apprentice. He had only been out of the Schola Progenum for a year or so, but already his features had started to harden, and his will had begun to solidify into the cudgel it would become. “What’s going on? How have these Xenos done this?”

“You tell me.” Chelen growled under his breath. Ranniq could not order him about so! But his animosity war forgotten as he glanced back at the battle. Renurt had been injured thrice, twice in his right leg, and one shallow gash along his left shoulder. The Eldar had two deep cuts along his chest, though neither seemed to be bleeding heavily. Renurt’s left arm hung limp as he lept about, thrusting, parrying, fencing with his Force Sword. The Eldar dodged, jumping backward, only to jump forward again. Renurt feinted to the right, threw his sword to his left hand, which he had been faking limp, and stabbed the Eldar through the chest. As he dealt the final blow, each of the Eldar dissolved apart into hundreds of little droplets of blood, and a brilliantly luminescent silver orb above them. Slowly at first, then quickly, the drops of blood shot into the center of the silver sphere. Then, finally, with a flash, all of it was gone. All that was left was Renurt collapsed at the center of the room, and Chelen, Tyrali, and Ranniq standing, trying to wrap their minds around what they had just seen, like people locked in stasis waiting for someone to awaken them. The alarms were still blaring in the background, but not one of them could hear them. 

The door shot open, and Sergeant Liminus ran in. He stopped suddenly when faced with nothing to shoot at, no enemy to fight. He looked around, confused, and then finally spoke up.

“Chelen.”

“Call the troops off. All’s clear, but get a medical team in here.” Chelen didn’t even turn around, but instead kept his gaze at where those ethereal Eldar were. Nobody had ever seen anything like this before. Was this some new sort of warp-spawned power? Or perhaps an artifact from the Dark Age of Technology that the Eldar had gotten their filthy pale hands on?

“We have find the cause of this!” Ranniq stated angrily. He started over to Renurt, who motioned him away.

“I can stand up, thank you, Ranniq.” Renurt’s voice was raspy. Blood was trickling from his wounds. He stood up like on under a thousand burdens.

“My Lord.” Chelen turned to face Renurt. The stimpacks were wearing off, and Chelen currently had only slept 1½ hours tonight. “What do you think we should do?”

“The only way forward now is into the fire.” The alarms were still going, shouting their message of warning to the world. “We go on.”


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