Exodus Inquisitus

Muddy footprints led up to the aged carcass of the fuel station. Remnants of a mesh fence outlined the former courtyard; a large open area filled with buildings that lay like fallen giants made of stone and steel. A soft crunching sound could be heard from outside the largest of the buildings.

Inquisitor Gabriel Halael of the Ordo Malleus approached the metal construct with exceptional stealth. He signalled back to the shadows of a nearby ruin, the last reminder of a once menacing looking guard post on the outside of the refinery that dominated the courtyard.

Out of the dark stepped two men. The left of them looked back and forth as he slowly stepped towards Halael. The psycannon on his shoulder buzzed softly as it did it's best to track the movement of its master's head. With a flick from his gloved hand he swept a lock of raven-black hair out of his face. Bound up in a pony-tail on top of the man's head it already showed small streaks of grey hairs, something one would not expect on someone who looked as young as he did.

"Belouve, get over here," Halael softly said to the approaching man, "and you too Sitael."

Behind Belouve stood a slender man, looking back and forth across the courtyard as if expecting an attack. Sitael stood at about six feet tall. Although the same size as Belouve he looked considerably slimmer and less bulky. The absence of weapons combined with the carapace armour fitted to his body almost made Sitael look out of place next to Halael and Belouve, who were both carrying impressive swords in scabbards on their backs.

"Master, what is it?" asked Belouve as he crouched next to the squatting Halael.

"We are getting close to the heretic," said Sitael before the Inquisitor had a chance to answer.

The psychic powers that Sitael possessed made him sensitive to changes in the electro-magnetic field of the planet. And the fiend they were after was causing such a thing.

"Sitael is correct, young Interrogator," Halael slowly spoke to Belouve.

Aldaran Belouve hated it when Halael called him by his Inquisitorial rank. It gave him the impression that his master somehow found it necessary to taunt him, to point out to him that he was not yet qualified to go out on his own missions.

"I am afraid I must take your word for it, master," he said as he nodded at Halael.

He had never been gifted with psychic powers, no matter how hard he trained there were simply no powers of the mind in him. This irritated Belouve. Although he had largely left the matter behind him he could not help but compensate in some manner.

He smiled as the soft purr of his psycannon reminded him of his advantage over psykers. Not being able to use mind powers himself he had a number of neurolinks implanted so he could take revenge against that what he was denied of.

"I will climb up this ladder and follow the walkway to the other side of the building," said Halael, snapping both men back to attention, "I will meet you on the other side."

Trying his best to make as little noise as possible Halael made his way up the ladder. As he stepped onto the walkway overseeing the area he noticed an eerie greenish glow flowing forth on the far end of it.

"It has begun, we must hurry," he murmured as he hurried himself over the meshed metal of the walkway.

Down below Sitael and Belouve were slowly making their way across the cracked asphalt of a road that lay next to the refinery. Remembering his training well, Belouve silently darted from shadow to shadow, taking up position in a storage shed on the other side of the road. He squinted as he tried to make out a shape that was obscured by a strange glow that emitted from the ground itself.

Sitael was less careful in his approach. Always trying to outshine Belouve in every way possible, he ran straight towards the corner of the refinery.

"I think time is of the essence, Brother," he yelled at Belouve as he sped past the skulking Interrogator.

Belouve shook his head, "so is stealth, Lupis, so is stealth," he thought.

But Sitael found it necessary to barge in. He always did. Taking shelter in a doorway just around the corner he had a clear view of what was emitting that strange glow.

Across the street, in front of the fuel station's main building stood a man. Hunched not so by age as more by mutation and the taint of chaos he slowly turned around. His eyes met with Sitael's transfixed stare. Letting out a light yelp from shock the malformed man wobbled over to some sort of table.

Having gotten used to the glow by now Sitael hadn't noticed the exact source of it. The sudden movement of the hunched man unblocked his line of sight.

"By the name of the Holy Emperor…" muttered the shocked Interrogator.

Out of nowhere a terrible roar filled the air. Both Sitael and Belouve and even Halael fell to the ground, clutching their ears, trying to keep eardrums from bursting.

As the roar died down Halael got back on his feet. He looked round to see if he could locate his apprentices. Down below he could see Sitael shaking his head, trying to get the ringing in his head to stop.

"Ah, seems all is well," Halael thought, just a moment too soon.

Screaming litanies of daemon-warding at the top of his lungs Belouve turned around and dove into the shed, hiding himself from the horrors that apparently roamed outside. The psychic effect of the roar had been too much for him. Where the trained minds of Halael and Sitael had blocked it out, it had done great psychological damage to Belouve's mind, reducing the grim Interrogator to a sobbing child wanting its mother.

Sitael looked over his shoulder at the shed and shook his head in disbelief. He had known Belouve to be somewhat psychologically weak, but he had never thought such an obvious mind-trick as this to affect him. A rumbling sound made him focus on the hunched man in the street again.

The ordeal with Belouve had given it the time to do its foul work, something it had been painstakingly preparing for many months. The source of the glow appeared to be a giant mark of the Chaos gods. With an impressive defiance of gravity bits of rubble and earth began to slowly rise towards the skies.

"Arise Fer'We'Thcan!" screamed the hunched man, "show these mortals the true power of Chaos!"

Another roar rushed through the fuel station, only this time it originated from within the Chaos mark. Slowly the ground within it came apart and the greenish glow, which had merely been a nuisance until now, grew so bright that it hurt the eyes of all who looked.

Sitael heard something vague in the distance.

"We must destroy it!" someone yelled, "we must destroy it before it eradicates us all!"

Standing on the top of the refinery Halael had a perfect view of everything. He had seen the mark well before Sitael did, but for some reason he was unable to warn him.

With the mark now slowly vanishing from view he found himself able to move again and he reached in his coat, searching for something. He pulled out a boltpistol. Highly ornate and decorated with wards it was his last hope.

"Death must come to all who strike pacts with the forces of Chaos."

With a crack akin to thunder the boltpistol began to spew forth it's deadly content at the hunched figure. Great clouds of earth spew into the air as shells missed their target, forcing him to duck behind the table next to where the mark was only moments before.

Seeing his master fail at taking out his target Sitael concentrated. It had been a while since he had last used his pyromantic powers. Slowly but surely a flame developed in his hand, hovering only inches above his flesh. With a grunt he whipped his hand forward, throwing the small flame towards the table, hoping to cleanse the man behind it with the flames of righteousness.

The small flame grew and formed into a ball of fire in mid-air. Sitael grinned as he looked at his creation. Such beauty, such sheer destructiveness.

As the ball flew closer to the table it began to slow down, coming to a complete halt above the hellish hole that was forming in the ground. Slowly it began to spiral, once again picking up speed. After ten rounds it jumped up into the air and dived towards the hole, disappearing from view.

The actions of Sitael had not mastered the evil, they had merely fed it.

"Lupis! Aim for the altar!" Halael screamed at the top of his lungs.

Sitael's blood ran cold. He had been with Halael for some time now and he had always called to him by his last name. Something must truly be amiss for his master to suddenly become so informal.

Up on the walkway Halael slammed a fresh magazine into his boltpistol. Checking the weapon to see if everything was in order, he aimed down at the street once again.

For the second time that day the air shook with the sound of gunfire. Feeling time was running short Halael emptied his entire clip on the brass altar next to the hole. Although the Inquisitor aimed carefully the recoil of his weapon made several shots go wild. The shells that did hit target pattered of the metal of the altar, hardly scratching the blasphemous creation.

Down below, Belouve emerged from the shed. His cheeks were caked with the salt from his tears, but his face was grim, not showing a single emotion. He had stared evil in the face and he had cowered. He would cower no more; it was time to take the abomination of Chaos down, once and for all.

The psycannon on his shoulder buzzed as it turned towards the altar down the street. A single burst of energy flew towards the brass table, passing over the hole with relative ease, only to dissolve as it hit home.

The cultist emerged from hiding and laughed at the three men. He made some sort of sign in the air with his hands and reached down in his robes, pulling out a curved dagger.

Rolling up his sleeve, the man ran the blade down his arm. Blood began to drip down his fingers as he held his arm over the hole. He spoke some ancient incantation as more and more drops of blood fell from his shaking fingertips.

"Fer'We'Thcan, show yourself! Eradicate these unworthy mortals!" screamed the man.

Slowly he retracted his arm and stepped back from the hole. The ground began to rumble as big patches of dirt around the started to ascend towards the sky. The cultist cursed and turned around, running off towards the old communications centre opposite of the refinery.

A loud voice boomed through the air, "I am Fer'We'Thcan, son of Khorne, bringer of destruction!"

Two giant leathery wings emerged from the greenish hellhole in the ground. Another daemonic howl heralded the appearance of a massive double bladed axe that rose into the air. Swinging its weapon around like a madman the daemon showed itself.

A curled horn on each side of the beast's head gave it the visage of a ram, had it not been for the row of pointed teeth Fer'We'Thcan showed as he smiled devilishly. The horrible thing's huge muscled chest was encased in brass armour, most likely forged using the blood of the innocent, as the legends told. Hoofed feet slowly set step on the muddy soil, sinking away due to the weight they carried.

"Who are you to stand in my way?" Fer'We'Thcan roared up at Inquisitor Halael as he pointed his weapon at the man.

Halael felt his heart throb in his throat. There was no reasoning with this beast. They were all going to die unless he did something.

"I," he began to say as he searched his coat for a fresh clip, "am Inquisitor Gabriel Halael of the Ordo Malleus and I am here with my trusted students to bring order to chaos."

With his last words he produced a clip with a blue cross on it from a pouch on his belt and slammed it into his boltpistol.

"Master? What are you doing?"

The voice of Sitael echoed through his head. The young Interrogator was trying to reach him telepathically. He brushed the thought aside with a simple 'trust me.'

A flash of light blinded Belouve and Sitael as they watched the conversation between their master and the daemon. Halael's special clip was filled with hellfire rounds. The shells hit the daemon square in the chest three times as it struggled to keep its balance through the punches of the explosions that erupted on its brass armour.

Halael jumped down from the walkway and drew his sword, ready to deal the final blow to Fer'We'Thcan. To his amazement the daemon stepped forward and ripped the armour from its body and threw it aside.

"Did you really think your puny weapons can stop me?" laughed the daemon, "I am a chosen of Khorne, no mere mortal can defeat me!"

Having said that Fer'We'Thcan lunged at Halael, grabbing him by the neck. The Inquisitor struggled to break free as the beast swept up into the sky, carrying him higher and higher.

Down below Belouve and Sitael looked on in horror as the daemon hovered in mid air. Sitael knew this moment would come sooner or later. Their master was lost; the daemon would surely kill him.

"Belouve!" he yelled, "get ready, the daemon will come after us any minute now!"

The other Interrogator nodded and positioned himself in front of the shed he had hid in only moments ago. Sitael ran across the courtyard towards Belouve, diving past him into the shed.

Up in the sky Fer'We'Thcan had brought Halael face up close to his. The Inquisitor stared into the pitch-black orbs of the daemon, trying to figure out what it was up to.

"We are very much alike, Halael," hissed the daemon, making his captive look away in anger.

"I fail to see any resemblance between us," answered Halael as he tried to reach for the laspistol he kept strapped to his leg.

The daemon slowly began to descend, keeping his grasp on the Inquisitor's neck as tight as possible without killing the man. As his feet touched solid ground once more he threw Halael to the ground.

"Oh, but there is a resemblance Gabriel," Fer'We'Thcan said slowly, "for we both serve a master, with great zeal and determination."

The Inquisitor stood up and spat the daemon in its face. This angered the beast and it sent him flying as it smacked him with the back of its hand.

"Do not mock me Inquisitor," the daemon continued, "for I hold your life in my hands."

"Then kill me you vile beast!" yelled Halael at the top of his lungs as he regained his grip on the ground and he threw himself at the daemon.

Fer'We'Thcan chuckled and easily sidestepped the feeble attack. As the Inquisitor passed him the daemon grabbed his neck and pinned him to the ground. He kneeled next to him and started to whisper.

"Death is too good for you Gabriel," hissed Fer'We'Thcan as saliva dripped from its scaled chin, "my master has other plans for you."

"What in the holy name of the Emperor is that thing doing to Master Halael?" mumbled Sitael as he looked at the two figures in the courtyard.

"I do not know," Belouve answered, "but I intend to find out!"

With that said the young Interrogator braced himself against the shed and pushed off, running towards Fer'We'Thcan and his Inquisitorial captive. Screaming Imperial litanies at the top of his lungs he quickly attracted the attention of the daemon. Flapping its huge wings the beast quickly ascended and disappeared from sight.

Belouve reached Halael, who had picked himself up off the ground. The Inquisitor calmly picked up his sword and stepped over to the Interrogator.

"Master, are you all…"

Halael swung his sword in a majestic figure eight, slashing Belouve across the face and chest. The young man stared blankly at the Inquisitor as he fell to his knees. Blood trickled down from the corner of his mouth. Halael pushed the gurgling Interrogator aside and started to walk towards Sitael.

Sitael could not believe his eyes. His master, the one man he had faithfully followed throughout the galaxy just brutally killed his own student. A thousand thoughts raced through his mind. He would have to stop Halael. And what ever happened to that daemon?

A deafening roar answered his last question. In a shower of splinters and pieces of metal Fer'We'Thcan crashed through the roof of the shed. Sitael could not help but scream in terror as he had his first close encounter with a daemon.

"What do we have here?" the beast bellowed, "you are not trying to run away, are you?"

Sitael launched a fireball at Fer'We'Thcan that harmlessly impacted on the brawny chest of the great beast. The daemon laughed loudly at the futile attack and smashed the Interrogator back against a pile of crates with a powerful punch to his chest.

Halael had now reached the shed. He stood in the doorway observing the fight between Sitael and Fer'We'Thcan. Shaking his head he turned around and walked off in the direction the cultist had ran off earlier that night..

Sitael moaned as he slowly tried to get up. The daemon's punch had cracked a number of ribs and by the sound of his breathing one of them had punctured one of his lungs.

"Master…" he softly whispered, "why?"

Fer'We'Thcan stepped forward and blocked his view of Halael. The daemon raised its massive axe high in the air.

"Your master serves a new god now!" the beast bellowed, "let the false Emperor rot in his golden prison!"

With a last earth-shattering roar the daemon brought its axe down on the defenceless Interrogator. Reaching down to the floor it dipped its clawed hands in the gathering pool of blood. Smearing the blood across his chest and face Fer'We'Thcan laughed and flew upwards into the night sky.

As Sitael felt the world slowly growing cold he faintly heard the daemons voice as his vision faded to black.

"Blood for the Blood God! Skulls for the Throne of Khorne!"