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 Shadows of the Tyrant Star

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Keeper-of-the-Glass
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PostSubject: Shadows of the Tyrant Star   Thu Aug 25, 2011 10:04 pm

PROLOGUE




BY ORDER OF HIS MOST HOLY MAJESTY THE GOD EMPEROR OF TERRA

SEQUESTERED INQUISITORIAL DOSSIERS AUTHORIZED PERSONS ONLY

CASEFILE II4:96S:LD8:SOT




Please enter your personal authority code: *******



Processing...



Processing...



Processing...




Thank you, Inquisitor. You may proceed.



PICT-RECORD OF INTERROGATION OF PSYKER-ROGUE "SMILING JACK"

SUBJECT XS-771-11892

ALPHA-LEVEL INTERROGATION TECHNIQUES AUTHORIZED

LOCATION: ADEPTUS ARBITES PRISON SHIP BLIND JUSTICE EN ROUTE TO SCINTILLIA

INTERROGATOR: UNKNOWN



PICT BEGINS






A grainy, static-laced feed slowly clears to show a dark room, too gloomy to make out any walls. There is no source of light save for a single, dim lamp hanging from what one could assume to be the center of the room. In this one solitary pillar of luminescence, is a chair, to which a naked, emaciated man is bolted - literally - to, chin to his chest. His face cannot be made out in the gloom. Thick metal spikes pierce his shoulders, elbows, wrists, hips, knees, and ankles, pinning him directly to the cold steel surface. A soft sound, a sort of crying murmur, can be heard continuously emanating from the man, though the poor recording makes it impossible to make-out what is being said.



A floating medicae-skull buzzes around the prisoner - for he is certainly not there of his own free will - and after a few short moments, a few short blips sound from the macabre medicae unit, and it flies out of sight.



No sound is made for several minutes, save for the same murmuring and sobbing. Finally, the sound of shuffling papers is heard from offscreen, and a man clears his voice.



INTERROGATOR: Now Jack, we will ask you again. Who is Komus? Where is he coming from, and why? What are your affiliations with him?



"Jack" makes no reply. A moment goes by, and then a click. The spikes impaling him slowly begin to hear up. The rate of murmuring increases.



INTERROGATOR: Things will go badly for you again if you do not comply. These tidbits of information you have given us are not enough to guarantee the Emperor's forgiveness. We need more. And you will give it to us. Everyone has a breaking point, Jack.



The man's words appear to stop the murmuring, and the room falls quiet, save for a soft sizzling. The pict-corder zooms in on the spikes embedded in the subject's flesh - they are glowing red-hot, and smoke is coming from the wounds. Jack makes not a sound. Nor does he look up. The sizzling is the sound of his flesh cooking. Viscous, half-boiled pus leaks down from around the thick steel nails. The image buzzes with static for a moment. The light overhead flickers, and Jack looks up, his eyes empty, milk-white orbs and his mouth a toothless maw that stretches impossible wide.



JACK?: KOMUS IS COOOOOOOMIIIIIIIING. KOMUS KOMUS KOMUSKOMUS IN THE SHADOWS OF THEY DANCE IN THE SHADOWS OF THE TYRANT STAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAR.



The light overhead pops, and the only visible light comes from the now glowing, white-hot barbs keeping Jack pinned to the chair. A hum of electrical energy washes over the pict-corder, and a small explosion is heard offscreen.



INTERROGATOR: The psyblocker is down! My blank is dead! I need a killteam in cell 33-d7! I need a kill-team in -



The man's voice is cut-off mid-sentence, replaced by a heart-stopping scream and the sound of multiple bones breaking. A wet, ripping noise is heard, and the sound of liquid hitting the ground followed by a dull thump. There are no more screams. The glowing spikes are gone. Emergency lighting flickers on, casting the room in a soft, red glow. Jack is gone, but the door is closed. A noise comes in from offscreen, the noise of messy slurping and chewing.



This goes on for several minutes before it stops, and the room is completely quiet for several minutes more.



Jack's face suddenly looms into the pict-corders view. An odd symbol of a lidless human imposed over an eerily elaborate star is drawn in a black substance on his forehead. His eyes are still milky-white, with no discernible pupil or iris, but the watcher gets the disconcerting feeling that Jack can see them, through the pict-screen, through the recording.



Suddenly, a smile.



JACK?: Goodbye, little soul.



The pict-recording blanks out. An oddly mechanical scream is heard, and then that too goes quiet.



RECORDING ENDS







There is no sound in the spartan office for what seems like an eternity as the darkly-clad figure seated at the desk simply stares over steepled fingers at the screen now showing only a slowly rotating capital I over which a stylized, winged skull is imposed.



The figure sighs, and in what can only be described as a southern drawl says, "Shit."

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PostSubject: Re: Shadows of the Tyrant Star   Thu Aug 25, 2011 10:53 pm

Hazael stepped up through a hatch in the floor, her mechadendrites whirling away, oil and grease and soot splattering everywhere as she climbed out of the servicing tunnels. She was panting and wiped her forehead with the back of her arm - which in turn just left a large black streak across her face.

"Ship is in tip-top shape, Mister Kaede!" She said chipperly. Ay-Cee whirred up behind her before she had the chance to close the hatch, and bonked its skull into the vaulted ceiling of the bridge. It made a whimpering "Beep boop" noise and fell into Hazael's lap like a wounded puppy.

"I rerouted some of the power couplings that weren't being used to their full potential, fixed the leaking coolant reactor and spread a little Sacred Oil around for good measure. She should be running at optimal efficiency now, Omnissiah willing."

The entire time she was cooing and gently patting the servo-skull in her lap. Those knowing tech-speak could have sworn that the machine was purring.

But something was not normal. Despite the purrs the room was oddly silent. Kaede wasn't chuckling at her antics nor busy talking with anyone through his communicator. And this bothered Hazael. Bothered her more than an untweaked machine. More than a missed stanza in a machine-prayer. More than most things, really.

"Kaede? Is everything all right?"

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==>AT: i THINK THIS, iS, pROBABLY MEANT TO ANTAGONIZE ME,
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