# Cult Part one.



## normtheunsavoury (Mar 20, 2008)

This will be my first full length story, I hope everyone likes.

Cult

Thamiel walked the dark corridors alone, his long coat flowing behind him as he marched with purpose through the temple halls, candle light glinting from his gold trimmed uniform.
He was tall and slim, his build not slight but imposingly athletic, Thamiel wore his long raven hair pulled tightly back and fastened with a silver clip and pin, his aquiline features accentuated by a fine, half face, silver mask.
Holstered at his hip was his stub pistol, a short, thick barrelled artisan built weapon which had been handed down through his family for generations, across his back was slung the fine power sabre that had been gifted to him by his family when he first took over stewardship of the Gilgamesh hive city.
The young noble reached the Sanctum, the centre of the shrine to the God Emperor, to find both the priests and acolytes in deep prayer.
One of the priests looked up, his face a picture of disapproval at the young noble’s intrusion.
“Lord Thamiel, I trust you have good reason to interrupt our meditations?” Father Decius was renowned for both his devotion to the God Emperor and his hatred of Thamiel, he mistrusted all of the world’s nobles but kept a special level of disdain reserved for Thamiel.
“Father, I apologise for my indiscretion, I shall not keep you from your prayers, but I thought it prudent to let you know that Sister Rosen is in low orbit and will be arriving soon. She has requested an immediate audience with you.” 
Father Decius’s look of disdain did not diminish “You thought it prudent? What you really mean is that you were told to come yourself, Sister Rosen would not risk you sending anyone or thing else in case word got out of her arrival” Thamiel hated Father Decius.
“I shall ensure all the necessary arrangements are made, now please let us complete our morning prayers in peace!” Decius’s outburst was common and not a single priest or acolyte even raised so much as an eyebrow.

Gilgamesh was a hellhole, even by modern Imperial standards the hive world was a place to be avoided at all costs. It had been founded so long ago that the hives true origins had been lost to legend and myth, now it existed to reprocess the toxic wasteland into fuel and weapons for the Imperium. The city itself was a marvel, towering fifteen miles above the surface of the planet, Gilgamesh looked as if it would fall in upon itself at any moment. Like an iceberg, the visible was only a small part of the city, Gilgamesh descended far beneath the surface in a twisting, dark, forgotten maze known as the Spiral.
Once there had been transport networks, trains and mono-rails that connected Gilgamesh to the other hives of Gorgoroth but the deadly corrosive atmosphere had long since destroyed these. Now flight, a privilege of the wealthy and powerful, was the only way to reach the other hives. Very few ships ever came to Gorgoroth.

The Sister of Battle’s Thunderhawk attack ship drifted down through the dawn sky, its white and silver hull reflecting the dawns pink glow. To Thamiel the craft looked like nothing more than a mass of guns and armourments, its sleek design both a thing of beauty and horrific destruction.
The ship hovered alongside the highest tower of the hive, its docking doors open, the Sister and her entourage clearly visible inside. A thin gantry slid out from the tower with a screeching metallic rasp, Sister Rosen crossed the span in a few elegant steps.
She was tall, almost as tall as Thamiel, and she moved with grace and ease that he would not have thought possible for someone in such heavy looking power armour. Her face was young but battle scarred, her age indefinable.

Sister Rosen Glared at Thamiel “I must speak to Father Decius at once!”

Part 2 coming soon!


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## Khorne's Fist (Jul 18, 2008)

Very good description of the hive. I could picture it easily. Good stuff.


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## normtheunsavoury (Mar 20, 2008)

Cult: Part 2
Sister Rosen sat in the private chambers of Father Decius, a richly furnished room unbefitting of a priest. Her distaste was plain to see and the Fathers sycophantic tone was starting to annoy her.
“Could we please get to the point father?” Her tone harsher than she intended.
“Of course, of course” Such toadying was becoming tiring “The lord Thamiel would be most displeased, but I have stumbled upon something I believe to be Heresy” Father Decius’s tone becoming frantic.
“Strange cults are nothing new in cities like this but… but this is something far more sinister”
Sister Rosen’s patience had gone.
“We have already established that Father, I would not have come to this place had the Inquisitor not deemed it necessary! Unless it has escaped your attention, I am a sister of battle, a Bride of the Emperor. My life is devoted to the destruction of all things that would bring harm to the Empire” Sister Rosen stood sharply and stared down at the priest, terror filled his eyes.
“What is going on here?”

Sister Rosen stormed from the Priest’s chambers, almost ripping the door from its hinges. She stopped and glared at Thamiel.
“The weapons you carry, young noble. I trust you know how to use them?” It was not a question.
“Of course, my lady, but I have guards I could place at your disposal that would make far better companions, allow me to…”
“No, Thamiel, you shall accompany me, I would much prefer to keep you in my sights”

The sweet smell of spice filled the room, rich and musky. A haze of thick acrid smoke hung in the air from exotic incense that clouded the mind and heightened the senses.
A mass of naked writhing bodies covered the floor, their flesh bathed in sweat and other fluids. At the centre of the heaving and undulating bodies stood a single robed figure, hunched and decrepit in contrast to the young flesh that surrounded him. From beneath his dark purple hood he scanned the scene, searching.
In a flash of movement, far too fast for his crippled appearance, a hand whipped out and grasped the hair of a woman at his feet. He lifted her into the air and studied her body closely, observing how she moaned and wriggled in his grip.
The Hooded man nodded, an almost unperceivable movement, the debauched scenes moans and groans grew in there intensity, rising to a cacophony of pleasure.
As the cries reached their peak, the robed figure drew a thin silver blade across the woman’s throat.
She cried out silently, blood spraying from the wound. Even as her life flowed out, as her bladder and bowel voided, she was still caught in the rapture and ecstasy of the moment.
Her hands moved all over her body as the robed figure held her for all to see like a twisted trophy, the perverse congregation bathing in the blood and filth from her dying body.
High above the vile charnel scene sat a lone figure, wrapped in finery and riches. A fine sword cane in his jewel encrusted hand he twirled the tip of his long beard between chubby tobacco stained fingers.
“The Mother will be most proud, yes, proud indeed” 

After much pleading and begging Thamiel managed to convince Sister Rosen that they should at least bring along Petrovytch, Thamiel’s personal guard.
Petrovytch had grown up in the lower levels of the hive and was a cold hearted killer, but loyal to Thamiel in all things.
The man had once been an Imperial Guard, ten years service in the Gilgamesh 23rd infantry had crafted the under hive ganger into a fighter of impressive skill.
Petrovytch was not as tall as Thamiel, but what he lacked in height he more than made up for in stature, the former guardsman was a mass of ropey muscle and thick scars. His face almost as brutish as an Ogryn, Petrovytch was a truly intimidating presence, and Thamiel was glad to have him close by.
“So, Sister Rosen, where are we going? Thamiel tried to keep his tone jovial
“We are going into the under hive, I believe you know it as the Spiral?”
The Noble stopped dead.
“Are you completely insane?” All joviality had vanished and a panicked tone was in Thamiel’s voice.
“We wouldn’t last a moment down there, we would be torn apart and eaten in seconds” Sister Rosen didn’t look in the least bit concerned.
“We would need an army to negotiate that place, I refuse to go!” Temper tantrums had always worked for Thamiel
Sister Rosen spun on her heel and glared at the young noble.
“Are you saying you, a noble and lord of this world, a man who has signed and sworn to uphold pacts with not just the Imperium, but with the God Emperor Himself do not have control of the hive to which you have been entrusted?”
“Do you dare to refuse the wishes of a Bride of The Emperor?” A bolt pistol appeared from nowhere.
“Well, what is your answer young Thamiel?”
Petrovytch grinned, it was not a pleasant sight.
“Ok, I’ll come. But why must it be me? I saw on board your ship when you arrived, you had others in your company that would be far more useful where we are going”
“Yes, They would have been but they are busy elsewhere on this Emperor forsaken world." a slight smile crossed the Sister of Battles face 
"And none of them are the nephew of the man I hunt”

Part 3 coming next week!


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