+ + This post starts the story of the Black Trooper, an NPC acting in the background of my currently active Dark Heresy group, acting mostly as an observer and evaluator of the fresh acolytes. I intend to write more as the games proceed, though at our currently sluggish play rate, a new piece of the story might be available only every few months. ++

+ + + + + Begin story + + + + +

”The Fist of Ralei” plowed the empyrean, the raw powers of the Warp-spawned hell swirling in its wake. The glimmering Geller-fields held the tide around the massive battle barge, as it begun to translate into realspace. The immediate area surrounding the ship began to first darken, turning into a black void around the ship, before a bright flash of light completed the translation. The ship had arrived in the Sepheris system.
A figure of a man, tall and muscular, clad in a decorative suit of partially open power armor, which allowed the shining velvets of the man’s clothes show more openly underneath the heavy plating, stood on a podium. A bright spotlight shone upon the decorated bolt pistol strapped to his belt, and upon the dozens of buckles that held his greatsword’s weight in place. The man was eccentric, all who had seen him knew that well, but he was also ruthless and efficient. This man was Inquisitor Ralei, the master of this battle barge and the force that would soon be unleashed upon the Calixis sector. Before him, alone in the shadows of the great hall, kneeled a single dark figure. The figure was that of a man, clad in turn in featureless black carapace armor, a heavy helmet with a built-in rebreather and a dark tinted visor in his head. This man was unarmed, as not a single soul would be allowed to stand before the Inquisitor armed in his own sanctum, though his biceps, which could be seen in the form of the armor, could be classified as weapons themselves. The dark figure bowed his head ever deeper and spoke in a hushed tone, which still seemed to reverberate from the walls, creating a web of disorienting echoes in the silence.
“My Inquisitor, I kneel before you, ready to do your bidding. Order me, so I may be of use.”
Inquisitor Ralei looked down upon the figure and made a small motion with his hand. The dark figure stood up, looking at his Inquisitor as if he was looking at a bright star.
“My servant...” The Inquisitor’s voice echoed with might and charisma of immaculate power. “…I will bestow upon you a mission of some importance. It will be a mission you will not like, but have faith in me, as I would not send my best to apprehend trivial matters. Some days ago I received a fresh warp communiqué, sent by a commissar by the name of Nihilus, who serves as the leader of the 97:th Sepherian Guard infantry unit. His message speaks of terrors and unworldly sightings in a mine complex known as the Gorgonid mines. This man requests assistance, and assistance he will have. I have been instructed by the conclave, that I must make haste to the neighboring system of Ishiva, and rendezvous with an Inquisitorial combat force there, which I will then lead to Sepheris Secundus to solve the matter one and for all. However…” There was a short pause as the Inquisitor allowed his words thus far to sink in. “…in the time it will take me to gather this force, there is no way of knowing what type of corruption will have time to seep out of the mines and into the populace, or even the Imperial Guardsmen guarding the site. I must send someone down to that barren and cold rock to thwart the corruption until more forces can arrive.” The dark figure’s scarred lips curled into a smile inside his helmet. This mission was perfect for him: a solo-operation, infiltrating the mines and cutting the head of the snake before it could slither too far. Ralei allowed a shade of a grin to creep onto his face, as he sensed the thoughts of his servant.
“Do not be too excited yet, Black one. This mission will not be yours alone to complete. Not too long ago, I have gathered a new four-man cell of Acolytes, young and inexperienced, yet skilled in way most men can only dream of. This group will be sent down onto the planet, and it will be your job to watch them, evaluate them and report their progress to me when the time comes.” The dark figure’s jaw snapped, as his hidden facial features tightened. He had to stop himself from openly protesting to this idea.
“Oh, don’t be too sad, Black one. If they fail, and if the good Comissar’s reports have any credit, this is a valid possibility, you will be tasked with finishing the mission. Also, as you observe, I want you to recover any relic you deem valuable enough from the mines. You know the drill by now, yes? Good. You will find your briefing, as well as your equipment in your locker when you return to your quarters. My briefing to the acolytes will be delivered in precisely eight hours, and in nine hours sharp, a shuttle will be launched for Sepheris Secundus. Be vigilant, my Black Trooper, your skill will be needed in the times to come.” With another flick of his wrist the Inquisitor dismissed his servant. The meeting was over.

The Black Trooper, the dark figure’s chosen name. It amused him, which only the Inquisitor knew his true name aboard the Fist of Ralei, though at this time his amusement was pushed back by his disappointment in his next assignment. He was to be an observer of newcomers, of children running around the field, just waiting to fall over and hurt themselves. The Black Trooper waved his hand over a sensor, which identified his implanted ID chip through his glove and made the door in front of him open with a soft hiss. Black stepped in, closing the door behind him, and sat on his hard, utilitarian bunk. The crude bed reminded him of his past, as did the dim lighting and the lack of wasted space. The only things he was not always used to having were the small desk, chair and a metal footlocker for his possessions. There was an armaplas briefcase on his desk, one he knew well, though it had been weeks since he last saw his love, as well as a smaller case, wrapped in brown paper. The gloved hand reached out and grabbed the small parcel, tumbling it around in his fingers, evaluating its content’s by weight and size. It was the right size to be some kind of custom grenade, yet a bit too light. Perhaps a small stasis unit, or a transponder. Black moved his left hand to his belt and drew a short blade, which he carefully used to open the parcel. His first guess had been right; the parcel contained a small fist-sized stasis module, just large enough to fit a man’s thumb trapped in the field. With a faster-than-eye movement, Black placed the container into a small pouch on his vest, and stashed away the small knife. He gave a short glance at the larger case on the desk; the reunion would have to wait for a bit longer. With a swift motion, Black lay down on his bed and in an instant, he was asleep.

It was ten minutes until departure. The acolytes would soon be late. Black leaned on the wall of the small shuttle, his trusty hellgun strapped to his back, its power line dangling connecting to a series on interlinked power packs on the back of his belt. He was geared and ready to go; now it was a waiting game to see which ones of the acolytes would make the first mistake. Only minutes before the given departure time, the entire acolyte cell entered the landing bay, huffing and puffing, as they ran to the lander. The pilot did not wait for them to settle down, but launched the shuttle on the very second the landing ramp closed behind them. Black had a good look at the newcomers: there were four of them, just as the briefing had said. One, his name was Roth, was an arbitrator by previous profession, a good and dependable one, or so the record says. The second was called Nihila, a female techpriest and a fairly young and inexperienced by the look of things. The woman’s pale skin was clearly visible underneath her crimson robes and only the bulk of her lascarbine hinted at any danger from her. Then there was Mora, another female and an assassin in her own words, which were few in any case. Black had seen her before, sulking around the corridors, avoiding people. Black liked her already. The last one was called Von Cain. This one was a true oddity; the man had had a cushy job as head of an Administratum office on some backwater hive, leading the easy life. Then, for no obvious reason, he had stopped working, started making strange inquiries into the archives and gathering knowledge of things someone in his position would not need to know. The local Administratum was infuriated and the man’s life was at stake, when Inquisitor Ralei had arrived and plucked the strange man onto his ship. Whatever his agenda, he was ill equipped for the mission ahead, armed with naught but a small revolver and a short blade. The four exchanged troubled looks, glancing at Black, who was doing his best to now ignore the newcomers until they were planetside. Finally the four seated themselves in the cramped space, and waited.

Down on the surface of Sepheris Secundus stood a young soldier, no more than seventeen years of age. He held an old lasgun on his gloved hands, and occasionally wiped snot from below his near-freezing nose. The soldier shivered in the howling wind, and raised his eyes, as he had done quite often during his postings, to the gray and purple clouds that swirled in the skies. At first the sky seemed normal, clear and empty of any points of interest. Then, he could hear it; the thunderous sound as a small craft entered the atmosphere. Then he could see it: a dark spot amongst the clouds, surrounded by lightning bolts that struck the air around the ship as it penetrated the cloud layers. The soldier looked around, coughed and then slid down the set of metal ladders that were in front of him. As his feet hit the ground he sprinted towards the mass of grey tents and the landing site, saying a little prayer in the back of his mind, not to encounter Sergeant Raynard on his way.

The small shuttle landed on the crude metal plate that was designated as a landing pad. Its metal claws gave a screech as they locked with the landing pad and the ramp begun to slide open with a whirring noise. The first off the ramp was Black, his boots clanking on the metal surface as he marched with a fast pace off the landing pad and into the tents, where he quickly blended into the shadows. His presence on the planet was now known to the newcomers, yet they did not know where he was at any given time. He was no longer a factor in their mission. If they thought different and counted on his help, they would surely fail. The four acolytes stepped down the ramp at a slower pace, taking in their surroundings as they arrived. The shuttle pilot disagreed, revving the engines and lifting the shuttle off the ground a split second before the last of the acolytes has stepped off the ramp, causing the arbitrator to nearly fall as he shuffled his feet to regain a solid footing. Black prepared to move away, to scout the camp as the acolytes looked around and tried to find their way to the commissar for a more detailed briefing, as suddenly a grey-uniformed trooped sprinted from amongst the tents and into the clearing where the acolytes now stood. Black kneeled in the shadow of a large tent, ignoring the sounds of snoring from inside and observing the encounter.

The young soldier pushed his hands to his knees, drawing deep breaths to calm himself down after what must have been a long run. Finally he regained his composure and looked up at the acolytes. Black could not see the man’s eyes, but somehow knew that they glittered with hope and awe at the arrivals. The young man saluted and then spoke:
“Hello sirs! And misses! Uh… I’m sorry, which one of you’s is the Inquisitor? You’ll probably want to meet the commissar as soon as…” Black watched as the acolytes exchanged inquisitive looks, now wondering which one of them should speak, and take the role of team leader. Just as the one called Von Cain opened his mouth to speak, another booming voice sounded from a nearby tent:
“What in His Holy name are ye doing off yer post agin’, son!” The young soldier suddenly stiffened and Black was sure his face had become white as a sheet. The new voice clearly belonged to someone who was used to issuing commands, and it did not have a friendly tone. The large tent’s flap flew open and another grey-uniformed figure appeared, this one without helmet or lasgun, but with a laspistol at his hip, and golden stripes on his sleeve to denote that this man was indeed a sergeant of the Imperial guard. The sergeant had seen better days though, as his entire left arm was missing from elbow down, and a crude mechanical appendage extruded from the stump. The sergeant stepped next to the young trooper, who turned to meet his superior and feebly saluted the sergeant.
“Trooper Jurtz! Why are ye off yer’ post again!? Huh!?” Before the young man could explain, or the acolytes intervene, the sergeant continued shouting and grunting: “I want you back at your post right this instant! And the next time I will take you to the commissar PERSONALLY to explain your antics! Move it, trooper! Go! Go! Go!” Jurtz turned on his heels and ran off to what must have been a grueling trip the first time. Black smiled at the youngster’s antics, as he spotted that the trooper had stopped between the tents to listen in on what the sergeant would say to the acolytes. Black did not need to hear the conversation; he intended to look around as long as he had the time to do so.

Black looked around the camp for a good while, making note of the sullen atmosphere that was prevalent. There were no groups of soldiers telling jokes and laughing around campfires, no drunken troopers avoiding detection at the back of the camp, just sullen guardsmen, staring at the flickering campfires or the purple-gas-spewing smokestacks and vents. In the middle of the camp was a single hab-block with the Guard unit insignia painted on it serving as a command post. Near it stood a small fenced area, in which ragged miners and serfs huddled in fear around small fires. All around the camp patrolled Sentinel-class scout walkers, their heavy metallic footfalls reverberating in the soil as they completed their rounds. From between the tents Black also spied the seal that had been erected at the mine entrance. It showed as a pale round spot on the face of a mountain in the east, some few miles away. Black also spotted the, if possible, even more sullen than average trooper Jurtz dragging his feet towards the seal. Apparently he had learned that the acolytes were not quite what he was expecting. Black spotted the acolytes near the commissar’s hab-block and made his way there. It was time to hear for himself what the troops on the ground thought of the matters at hand.

Black entered the commissar’s quarters, flashing his Inquisitorial ID badge and informing the commissar with as few words as possible that he was not to be spoken to as the acolytes visited and that he would remain unseen in the shadowy corner. Black leaned against the metal wall near the clothes rack where the commissar’s greatcoat and cap were hanging, and waited again. Not long after his arrival he could hear one of the acolytes, the arbitrator, greeting the commissar’s adjutant in the other room and then saw them entering the commissar’s room. The acolytes were seated and as they sat, Black could see the lines on the commissar’s face grow darker and longer.

The commissar was a strong jawed veteran of many a battlefield. His features were scarred and his head seemed to be missing a splotch of hair, though a well-done comb over covered the fact well. Sitting behind his wooden desk he addressed the acolytes, who were now sitting on crude benches near the opposite wall:
“So, you are the ones sent here to bail us out, eh? No offense to you, but I was expecting quite something else.” The commissar took a good long look at the arrivals now and sighed heavily before continuing.
“How much do you all know of the situation already? Are you aware of the priorities at hand here?” Two of the acolytes, the arbitrator and the adept spoke on top of each other, exchanging apologetic looks, before the arbitrator answered in proper:
“We were only briefed on the basics and were hoping that you could share some more information with us.” The commissar barely visibly shook his head, before taking a deep breath and nodding in agreement.
“Over a decade ago the Inquisition destroyed a local cult of demon worshippers and whatnot and then up and left. Apparently they didn’t do quite a good job though, as the local Governor decided three weeks ago that she needed some help in the mines. The cult had re-emerged in one form or another, and threatened the effective production of goods and supplies on Sepheris Secundus. We don’t know the specifics and I do not care. All I know is that if Sepheris Secundus’ plants halted, most of the system would be running out of fuel in a decade. Myself and my men were ordered to get planetside, eradicate the cultists and drive them out of their holes. We made planetfall sixteen days ago today. It took us only hours to chase the fools who resisted us on the surface and I ordered my men to enter the area known as Gorgonid mines to chase them. In the following day and a half we made good progress, encountering nothing that my men could not handle with ease. Then we ran out of the new mines and entered an area known as the Shatters. It’s much older than the other areas and the tunnels are narrower there. I ordered four squads to go down there and have a gander. Only a handful of my men returned hours later, some screaming, some muttering gibberish, others dragged by those who had retained their sanity. They spoke of runes, symbols, blood and creatures they could not comprehend. I ordered a retreat, sealed off the mines and called for the Inquisition to come and clean up after itself. It seems, however, that the Inquisitions idea of the situations graveness differs greatly from mine.” The commissar took a disgruntled look at the acolytes. The arbitrator straightened his back and replied: “We are just a scout team, sent ahead of the main force. Don’t worry, there will be more reinforcements.” The commissar took in these words and gave the slightest sigh of relief.
“Well, far be it from me to question the Inquisitions workings anyhow. Let us get straight to the point, shall we. Here is a dataslate, with the Gorgonid mines’ map saved on it, along with the best route to the Shatters. I expect you four will want to go down there now, eh?” The arbitrator spoke up again:
“We come lightly equipped, would it be possible to gain access to some of the stores you have here and perhaps upgrade our equipment?” The commissar gazed at the newcomers with a pitying look.
“You should see our quartermaster; he might be able to help you out with that. It’s about a half-hour’s walk to the seal. It’s to the east, you can’t miss it. I expect to see you four there in one hour sharp. Oh, just so you know, once you are down there, you can come out if you want, just let us know through the intercom near the door. Be warned though, the seal takes a while to open, so try not to be in a hurry when you are getting out, eh?” As the commissar spoke these words, grasping the acolyte’s attention nicely, Black snuck out of the hab-block and into the “fresh” air starting his long walk towards the seal ahead of the others.

The chill of the wind was biting at the guardsmen, though Black was not affected, thanks to his isolative armored suit. He watched, sitting in the shadow of a fuming smokestack, as the acolytes approached the seal, and the commissar and a small detachment of guardsmen standing nearby. As the acolytes approached, the commissar gave a signal with his hand and a group of serfs, huddled around a small campfire closer to the seal. The serfs stood up, marching towards a large shed, disappearing inside, only to re-emerge moments later with bunches of yellowish-green leaves in their hands. Only moments later, a bunch of hairy four-legged creatures with large snouts appeared, drawn to the leaves in the serf’s hands. The acolytes halted their march near the commissar, watching, their mouths agape, as the hairy creatures neared the center of the seal. As they were halted by the serfs, a set of heavy chains were latched onto the creature’s harnesses, the other ends of the chains connecting to the center of the seal. A young guardsman, looking very much like the trooper the newcomers had met at the landing pad, waved to the commissar from a rickety tower next to the seal, before proceeding to flick a series of switches that in turn released a series of locks and latches around the seal. As the creatures were once again tempted to move, the seal began to move. The seal was a round metal plate, nearly two meters thick and thirty meters across, with a symbolic skull engraved onto the surface, along with runes of warding and sealing. As the hairy creatures began to pull on their chains, the great metal seal slowly began to inch itself to the side, screeching as it moved along the thick rail on which it had been set. Inch by grueling inch, the seal moved aside, and as it neared the position in which an opening would form, the commissar gave another signal, and the soldiers near him took up their weapons, formed a line near their leader and took aim at the seal.
There was a loud creaking noise as the seal begun to reveal the opening in the mountainside. With a loud hissing noise, a thick cloud of yellow gas appeared, bathing the area and leaving an orange trace on the soil. One of the guardsmen stumbled on his feet, his lasgun clattering on the frozen soil. A guttural grunt and an evil eye from the commissar quickly brought the soldier back to his place, weapon in hand. Moments later, just as fast as the gas had appeared, it had disappeared, leaving nothing but a thin orange layer in the grey snow on the ground. Black could read the commissar’s lips, as he gave a deadly smirk to the newcomers: “Time to go, gentlemen.” Black watched as the commissar walked with the acolytes to the base of the seal, allowing them to barely pass before the animal drivers, having received signal moments later, led the creatures backwards to begin closing the seal. Black watched, his fists clenched, as the seal closed behind the acolytes, separating him from his targets. He stood up, marching towards the commissar, pondering on the possibility of punching the fool for interfering.

Guardsman Jurtz stood outside the commissar’s hab-block, his hands shaking lightly, though not due to the chilling winds. It was now five hours since the seal had been closed, which meant that it might already be too late to catch the four brave souls that ventured into the mines. Jurtz swallowed hard, took a sheepish glance around him and begun marching for the door. Just as he reached the door and was about to salute the guards posted outside, the door was suddenly slammed open and two figures stepped out. The first was a blurry dark figure, which moved quickly past the frightened guardsman and disappeared before he could even react. The second was the commissar. Jurtz halted, saluted and stood there, praying to the Emperor that his knees would hold him. The commissar only now noticed the trooped, looking down his nose at the young man.
“Aren’t you the trooper who’s been pestering my adjutant with requests to re-enter?” Jurtz was taken by surprise; he hadn’t expected that his requests had ever been heard by the commissar himself.
“Y-yes sir, commissar! Guardsman Jurtz, sir!” Jurtz stiffened his back and arm, hoping to make an impression with the crisp salute, though he feared that his slight stutter as he addressed the commissar had failed him already. The commissar looked over Jurtz’s shoulder, then slowly back at the man, nodding solemnly.
“Well, get your volunteer squad ready, you have my permission. Seal will open in one hour! Dismissed!”

Black entered the shadows of the mine tunnels, just clearing the massive metal seal before it slid shut again. He sidestepped into the corner, his armored suit blending to his surroundings without a sound, watching as the team of six guardsmen walked into the corridor at a brisk pace. They knew where they were going, as they were all part of the detachment that had entered the mines two weeks past, and thus made a good speed forwards. They would probably catch the newcomers in five to eight hours. Black didn’t need that long. He was accustomed to moving in confined spaces and had gone through the Gorgonid mine’s map the day before. This allowed him to find narrow crawlspaces and vents, which allowed him to bypass miles and miles of the mine tunnels altogether. The commissar had said that the upper mines were mostly clear and that the hotspots were all in the Shatters. That is where Black made his way now. He chose his routes so that they crossed with the predicted path of the acolytes occasionally, until he finally found a spot where the dust on the floor was still untouched. He was ahead of them already and it had only taken him a few hours. Now it would be time to wait and watch as ordered. Black checked the vent he was hiding in for rats and other vermin and then begun to rest, while keeping an eye on the tunnel for movement.

Jurtz was troubled by what he had encountered. The tunnel seemed to have collapsed not long ago and he had no idea as to where the Inquisitorial people had gone in order to bypass the ruined section. Jurtz consulted his datapad with one of the other soldiers while the others kept poking holes in the darkness with the lights attached to their lasguns.
“Two ways to get past: up a few levels, through the nexus, or down through the forty-one-beta side maintenance walkways.” The soldier noted aloud, pointing the routes in the map with his finger. Jurtz nodded, his brains hard at work.
“The lower route is faster, I think we should go through there.” The other soldiers muttered objections to the idea, clearly believing that the narrow tunnels were a trap about to spring upon them. One of the soldiers Jurtz knew by name: Horst, shushed to the soldiers, demanding to be allowed to speak.
“We should part ways…” He said as the whispers died down. “…and see where the Inquisitorial folks went. If they were looking for a place to rest, they might still be in the nexus. If they were hurrying, they might have gone through the maintenance passages. I suggest that myself and Jurtz take the lower route, while the rest of you check the nexus. You will need more men to check all the offices on the upper level.” There was a murmur of acceptance and worry. Jurtz took one more stab at the map with his index finger.
“We will regroup in this junction here in one hour. That should be plenty of time. Keep radio contact…” He tapped the microbead in his right ear. “…and make report every ten minutes. Ok? The Emperor protects! Let’s move!”

Black had finally sighted them, walking down the wide passageway, using their light-packs to illuminate their way. The newcomers had made a fairly good time, though they had clearly stopped at some point to rest for a while, judging from the delay. Black allowed them to pass him, before sliding his body out of the narrow vent and stretching his muscles to get them warm again. They were past the halfway point now, and the tunnels were beginning to become darker and damper as they went down. Black sniffed the air, turning his head around to where the newcomers had come from. His helmet enhanced his smell, though he wondered if he should deactivate the sensor for a while. He smelled a mixture of sweat, feces, oil and raw sewage creep into the air.

Jurtz was scared, wet, and miserable. Even more importantly, he was all alone. He had not been able to raise the four guardsmen that made their way to the nexus, fearing that they had been caught by surprise in the wide open space somehow. Jurtz shook his feet one at a time to shake off some of the grime that still clung to his damp uniform pants and boots. The lower passageway he and Horst had taken had been flooded with wastewater to about waist level. As they had sloshed their way through the hideous pool, something had attacked them from underneath. Jurtz had succeeded in pulling his leg free from the assailant, though Horst had not been so lucky. He had fallen under the surface and Jurtz had been unable to find him in the oily wastewater. As the bubbles had stopped appearing at the surface, Jurtz had made his escape, praying that whatever was beneath the horrid surface did not catch him as well. He had escaped with his life, but how long would he survive alone? He had to find the Inquisitorials! He had to!

Black watched with mild amusement as the newcomers were stumped by the next obstacle the unreliable bedrock of the planet had created before them. The tunnel had partially collapsed, creating a gap between the two sections of the tunnel, with the next section a few meters lower than the one they were now in. He had not been able to sneak in to take a look himself, though he had heard them curse at the deepness of the chasm and how their light-packs were not able to uncover the bottom of it. Black took a glance to the rear, his light-amplifying visor allowing him to spot a single guardsman stomping up the passageway towards the acolytes. Black wondered where the others were, as he slid deeper into the shadows to avoid detection. The rancid-smelling soldier walked by him, passing within arm’s reach as he went.
“Hey, you there! Is that really you!?” The trooper shouted, picking up the pace to regroup with the acolytes. If the condition of the man’s clothes were an indicator, the trooper’s file was very much correct in making note of his hardiness. Black watched on as the trooper joined the acolytes, who took the man in with a mixture of open arms and covert hostility and doubt.

The group had chosen to rest for a few hours to allow the guardsman to recuperate. Now the assassin, Mora was the name of the girl, tied the rope she had been carrying around to one of the metal handles welded to the wall-plating and the other end around her waist. She took a few steps back, sprinted to the edge and leapt. Black could hear the soles of her boots hitting the floor of the next section of the corridor with a pair of loud thuds. The acolytes made quick work at shimmying themselves across the chasm, as did the guardsman. Black crept up to the edge, only to discover that the group had marched on, leaving the rope where it was. Black pushed his own hand into his pack and tied another rope across the chasm as he crossed, creating an easy way to get back up and outside when the time came. Black spared a small smile at the caution the acolytes were taking: they had cut the slack off the rope and taken it with them, probably in case they needed it later. Black commended their far-sightedness and cut a length of his own rope’s slack, stuffing it into his crammed backpack before proceeding to follow the acolytes.

Black had purposefully stayed back, allowing the acolytes to proceed at their own pace. Now they had halted before a sturdy metal door, on which the word “Shatters” had been crudely painted by the miners in bright red paint. Black checked that the power packs of his customized Hellpistol were properly working. It was almost showtime. He watched as the acolytes worked the metal wheel in the middle of the door and pulled the metal slab back, making their way into the Shatters, in which the foul stench of decomposing flesh greeted them. Black turned off the smell enhancer on his helmet.

The group proceeded a short way up the corridor, before halting to check on a small cavern at the side of the corridor. Black wanted to get past the acolytes, but would need to wait for his turn a bit longer. There was no way to get past while the assassin and the arbitrator were keeping watch on the corridor as the techpriest and adept entered through a door into what Black believed was likely to be an office of some sort. There was commotion, shouting and cursing and it didn’t take long before the techpriest and adept exited the office, urging the group to proceed. Black discovered an opening and sprinted to the door before the female assassin could spot or hear his approach. The room was indeed a small office, though someone or something had been using it as a butcher’s shop not too long ago. The shattered corpses of several guardsmen and miners were dismembered in the corner of the room, surely emitting a stench which Black was quite pleased he could not smell. Black’s hand went to a pouch on his belt and he pulled out a small round object, which he slapped onto the top hinge of the door. He then began scanning the ceiling for a vent, through which he could crawl into the old ventilation system.

In less than ten minutes Black had done all he needed to do. He had planted six of the round surveillance globes in the tunnels near the entrance to the Shatters. He had also spotted a main chamber, though he had kept himself from entering it, reminding himself that he was here only to observe, not to intervene… for now. Finally, after a tiresome crawl in the ceiling crawlspaces, Black dropped down into a room which he believed to be a good enough place for him to make into his observation post. He glanced around the room which he had entered, spotting no signs of inhabitants inside. He then sat on the floor, opening up a small console which he had extracted from his pack and activating his ear-bead so that he could hear what his sensors were picking up as he watched the feeds.

The acolytes were working their way through the tunnels at a ridiculously slow pace, clearly afraid to secure the side tunnels in which Black was sure at least some kind of creatures were stalking and waiting for prey. Black felt frustration as he watched on: the group had spread itself thin, as two of them were investigating one side corridor, one was looking at another and the female techpriest… Black could not believe his eyes, though his ears soon confirmed his fears. The techpriest had drawn her lasgun and was now blasting away at the padlock of one of the heavy metal crates left around the corridors. The loud hiss-crack of the weapon echoed in the corridors and even reverberated in the room he was in. There was a soft whimper of fear in one of the narrow lockers opposite to Black and he looked up inside his visor, activating the heat-detector to see if there truly was a threat inside. He could see the silhouette of a very small man cowering inside the closet. Black pondered of putting the poor miner out of his misery but decided again it for as long as the man stayed in his hiding place. There was no sport in killing the weak. As he turned his gaze back at the console in his lap, he could see the techpriest opening the crate and starting to unload the toolboxes within, clearly in hopes of finding something valuable or useful inside. Black pitied the fool, turning his attention elsewhere. There was a shout in his earpiece, as the arbitrator tried to warn the others of threat. Black’s surveillance pods could not catch the specifics, but the movements and stances of the acolytes were a clear sign that they had come under attack. They scattered in all directions, the guardsman and the arbitrator finding themselves trapped in a dead end as a massive abomination of a mutant stepped into view, brandishing a massive rusted meat cleaver above its misshapen head. The arbitrator tried to fend off the creature with his club with little success. The heavy cleaver struck in a wide arc, slicing a gash in the back of the disheveled guardsman, who fell down to the floor, screaming with agony. The techpriest and adept watched in fright from afar as the fight ensued. Then the assassin took aim with her rifle, fired a shot and missed. Black could hear a ricochet as the bullet struck the metal hinge of the door from which the abomination had appeared. There was a shout, a scream and then a blinding flash of light as some kind of flammable fumes emanating from the room were lighted by the sparks. Black’s observation globe was fried in an instant and from the feeds of the ones he had left further back he could head frantic screams and calls for help echoing in the corridor. Black lowered his head, cursing the fools under his breath.

Nearly twelve hours had passed since the explosion. The fire was still raging in the room in which it has started and the acolytes had withdrawn themselves to the miner’s sleeping quarter situated at the back of the office Black had visited earlier. The mines had mostly quieted down as the acolytes had taken their sweet time resting and licking their wounds. Only the adept had escaped without severe burns by leaping out of the fire’s way in the nick of time. Now the group, charred and badly injured, exited the safety of the office to brave the corridors once more. Black felt bad for them, but reminded himself once more of his role of observer. He needed to wait and see if the acolytes could pull off their mission despite the earlier setbacks. Black was pleased to see that the group was now securing the side caverns as well, using their earlier experience to avoid ambush. There were some shots fired, though this time the acolytes seemed to dispatch their foes with relative ease. Black eased back and continued watching, feeling as if he were some kind of strange voyeur.

The acolytes had secured the entrance to the Shatters now and were making their way deeper, closer to Black’s position. The adept and the arbitrator were nearing the door of Black’s hideout, and the female assassin and techpriest were venturing deeper into the caves ahead. As the arbitrator tried to open the door to Blacks hideout (which he had locked from inside so that it would not open), several things happened at once. Firstly, the locker in which Black had observer his frightened companion hiding in bursted open and a panicked miner stepped out of the dark locker. The man blinked his eyes as if he had been blinded by the dim light of the room, then quickly dove to the back of the room, toppling a small table as he did so. Black watched with worry as the miner disappeared behind the table and was slightly frightened as a single gunshot rang out in the small room. The miner had, in his panicked state, proceeded to commit a desperate suicide. As Black tore his eyes off the sight of sprayed blood spattered on the back wall, he winced as his instruments emitted a high-pitched noise and his visual feeds were cut off by static. Black could feel a strange power washing over him, identifying it immediately as some sort of residual energy of a warp artifact. Black stood up and stepped closer to the door, his hellpistol already humming softly in his hands. The air was filled with noise: the female assassin screamed in terror, the acolytes shouted at one another in fright and several shots were fired out of different weapons. Above all other noise, Black could hear the bestial roars, coughs and wheezes of a corruption demon of some sort. He gripped his weapon tightly; ready to exit his shelter and to confront whatever threat was out there at a moment’s notice. There were hurried footsteps of two people fleeing in fear, broken by the warp spawned horrors that surely had manifested themselves in these barren mines somehow. Black’s mind was hard at work, piecing together the aural cues that he could hear to create a clear image of the events outside. He could see the metal of the door before him begin to corrode and rust before his eyes. It took all of his will to remain still and not intervene immediately. Then there was an explosion, followed by an eerie silence. Black turned the wheel of the door in front of him and carefully pushed at the metal slab to create an opening through which he could observe the acolytes. The techpriest had fallen to the ground, her weakened body broken in the blast of what must have been a frag-grenade. Next to him stood the adept, who was now slowly walking towards the still smoldering crater which had been created by the explosion. Black could glimpse a fragment of some sort of bright pink crystal discarded on the floor near the hole in the floor. Black glanced around him, confirming that the arbitrator and the assassin had withdrawn a good distance away, before stepping forward to fulfill the last part of his given mission. The adept, Von Cain was his name, Black remembered, kneeled down next to the shard, examining it with a mixture of terror and curiosity. Black stepped next to him, making note that the female techpriest’s skin had somehow turned bright pink with grayish marbling clearly visible underneath the surface of the skin. Black had seen her act, knew her to be weak and a fool. Now she was also a mutant and could no longer serve the Inquisition. Black decided to ignore her for the moment and stepped just behind the adept, placing a strong hand on the man’s shoulder. The adept shivered visibly and looked up at Black, who now held him in place. Black nodded to the man, hoping to reassure him that he had done well, before kneeling next to him and snatching the small stasis container from his belt. He activated the delicate instrument and extracted the pink fragment before the adept could question his actions. Black stood up and snapped the container to his belt, deeming the immediate threat to the Gorgonid mines to have passed. It was time to return to the surface and wait for reinforcements.

The walk up to the surface had been long an arduous as expected, as Black had not used his shortcuts so he could remain close to the acolytes for now. The adept and the arbitrator were helping the two injured women as they proceeded slowly towards the surface. As they were only a few hours walk away from the surface, black broke off from the group and took a shortcut to the seal, punching in the code that notified those outside that an authorized person wished to exit. In thirty minutes the massive metal seal opened and Black stepped outside into the dull gray light of Sepheris Secundus. He was met by the commissar and a group of his soldiers. Black nodded to confirm that he had seen the men and made his way to the commissar to report on the developments below.

A few hours later the seal was reopened to allow the acolytes exit. Black watched from the side as the two women were lowered to the ground, where the assassin lied down due to injury and exhaustion, and the techpriest fell unconscious from her injured state. Black nodded to himself, as this would make things simpler in a few moments. The commissar stepped up to the two acolytes who could still stand on their own. The arbitrator crouched low and lit a lho stick, inhaling the intoxicating smoke with a relieved expression. One of the guardsmen rushed off to retrieve a medic from a nearby tent to render assistance to the wounded.
“I hear you completed your mission down there. I’m impressed!” The commissar congratulated the acolytes. Black could see the man eyeing the discolored skin of the techpriest, the garish pink of her skin clearly visible through the holes in her burnt robes and hastily applied bandages. The acolytes didn’t seem to grasp the hint in the commissar’s eye. Black stood up and begun walking.

Commissar Nihilus was indeed impressed by the Inquisitorials in front of him. He had expected for his men to discover their mangled corpses in the tunnels in the near future, but here they stood, their mission accomplished. Well; two of them stood at least. Nihilus nodded at the female techpriest, his eyes expressing the wordless question. The adept glanced at the techpriest and shrugged. Nihilus was just about to express his dissatisfaction of the thought that a freshly turned mutant, even in the service of the Inquisition, would enter his camp alive. Suddenly a dark figure appeared behind the adept, hovering menacingly above the techpriest’s limp body. The two men looked on with surprised expressions, but did not move to resist the judgment. There was an audible hum as the hellpistol in the Black Trooper’s hand charged.
“Suffer not the mutant to live.” A single thunderous hiss-crack of the hellpistol rang out in the cold air. A patch of blackened soil was all that was left of the techpriest’s head. Nihilus nodded to the Black Trooper and signaled his men to take the three survivors into a tent. They came quietly.