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Vile Echoes of the Pancreator's Dark Mass

[Transcriptus vocis peculiaris :: signo temporis 3.412.799 M41
Indexarum Hereticae :: Ordo Missio Fortress :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla
Master-Indexus Folm Wardeque]

Ah, hmm. Pancreatrix, the, Pancreas of Saint Tineval, Miracles of. Ah! Pancreator, Adorants of. No, a moment. Ah! Pancreator, Order of. There, the Principia Summaris crystal for this entry, and there, the data thief socket. You are, ah, fortunate indeed. Too little archaodata is so, ah, convenienced by the tech priests of our period.

Though. Hmm.

I ponder that these Adorants might not be one and the same. Hmm. A persistant heresy if so. Look, ah, it is under the seal of the great Inquisitor Pethimen, Emperor bless his soul, and the purity seal of Master Ambulon from the Third Reindexing Period. Ah, and I but lately recall an Index Secundus for all the coinings and, ah, nomenclature of Inquisitor Pethimen's savants. Hmm. From the first half of his Procession Through the Heresies only.

Of course, hmm, you may peruse it all. Ah! It is my pleasure. Least-Archivist Rustish will attend your needs and questions. Once he is under the blinding crown, ah, simply tap these two levers to engage his attentions once more. Ah, the order is important. The Emperor protects, hmm?

[Indexus Hereticae :: Order of the Pancreator :: signo temporis 8.000.410 M41]

Whereasby such foemen I assigned Hereticus, and contenanced by thyse ways I numbereth hence, praise thee Empyror and Throne.

I. Beandthey throw forth stout faith asundthough thee and I. Yth most sturdy, but of false strength aforethought, as thee youngyst mummer fain strives.

II. Beandthey gathereth by darkend vault, but of false secrecy and neath pennon of noble acts Impyrial, yth to gathereth envy and admyration afore.

III. Beandthey two and two, fools without and kyngs within. Yet they art buildeth the wall twixt low in greed, yth and by a knave may climeth from Impyrial lyght hence to darkness.

IV. Beandthey clothed as holy priest upon Ambrival, almsmen and tutor upon Wersy, guard of the Impyrium and Empyror upon Calvax Secondus. Within holy shrines doth the better part of fools gathereth, a mockery cast by kyngs and yth fain cry for the hammer.

V. Beandthey keepeth most secret a place of kyngs, asundthough a vault of Preceptors, yth within to cast out Empyror and Impyrium from hearts and pennons.

VI. Beandthey art kyngs do call Materium born of Empyrean, yth which kyngs calleth Pancreator, and seek by craft to cry forth Echoes of birth.

VII. Beandthey keepeth hidden tomes and scrypt of silver to speaketh of a Pancreator and forbydden words, yth by which thee knoweth Hereticus in thee heart.

VIII. Beandthey pull short the holy barrier with the Empyrean through craft, and set about fools for to cast down holy works in secret, yth to hear Echoes.

IX. Beandthey fain a road for daemons, yth to cry for the hammer.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2008 | Permanent Link ]

The Pancreator's Warpsong

[Memoria mechanicus :: servitor calvaria b-i-12t :: signo temporis 3.261.801 M41
Gilded Reception :: Seven Hall Manse :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla
Inquisitor-Minor Conestus Jonquad]

Thank you, but this is not a social occasion. Your "shabby, elusive little heretic" of the Wintersun Feasts two years past has come to light once more, and I have need of your knowledge with regard to the Pancreator cult.

You are aware of the disturbance reported a day ago by the Lux Astropathica? Whatever the source, it left a warp-taint in the Trall spires. The second Black company took one of the vat-cloistered as pointer and a brace of weapon servitors to what turned out to be a Manse Communis of unfavored House Trall scions. There, they found the signs and waste of an Empyric intrusion. There was a single survivor within, too maddened into quietude to respond to the standard panapoly of interrogative techniques. There will no doubt be others who fled.

Yes, I am choleric. Spire Arbites have the entire level sealed. The Manse, corpses and body fragments will be plasma-burned once all has been picted and the artifacts catalogued by the Missio savants. I am far more concerned with the possibility that Empyric entities have been loosed within Hive Voltis, as are my Mallus associates. Mark my words when I say that the gilted of House Trall will suffer duly and willingly for the heretical acts of their blood.

The truth and tale will out, and we must hope that past will illuminate the immediate future.

Let me show you this pict, here, third in the dataslate. Do you recognize the runes and patterning of the vox-player? Yes, I thought so. Savant Aramateus died of a violent brain flux whilst listening to the vox records within, and three of my other trusted dataseers are restrained within the Missio fortress medicae vaults for psychic examination. I destroyed the servitor-transcript and servitor that made it in blessed plasma. Have you ever heard a servitor trying to scream?

There is a taint upon the vox-noise here, of which I heard but the slightest muted fragment. It was screaming and voices, whispers from the throat of the Archenemy, and it needles my soul yet despite the blessings and pray-seals of the good Pater Monomus.

I will have the head of he who made this, to set within the sustaining vat and torment forth every last secret that will let us banish this form of taint forever from the Emperor's sight. This I swear upon the Throne and the echoes in my head.

Now, tell me of this heretic, his career as vox-artisan of the sordid and forbidden, sought after by the degenerate of the spire Houses. Tell me of the Pancreator vermin who nurtured his curse upon the Wintersun Feasting.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2008 | Permanent Link ]

Hunting Scion Trall of House Minor Castigan

[Manse vox-record :: signo temporis 3.269.801 M41
Armorium :: Seven Hall Manse :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla
Adept-Militant Grambald]

What's the straight on this one, then? Another rething high-caste with the brainworms from the warp? Give it here - can't las holes in the rether if I don't know what he looks like.

Le'see, just you and me on this one, down into the underhive and find this latest rething scum. Suppose the Inquisitor don't think so much of this sinner, or reth, maybe he thinks we're the silver now after that last bloody throw down.

So's his own blood came running to the Ministorum, or so this says - naffed up his playing around at warp-craft. And they burned out his manse themselves. Industrious rethers. Two chips says the eye of the Inquisitor's on them, and we're just cleaning up spilled tranc. Glint on top o' that says this is all more from the Trall Spire melt. Like when you burns the corner hab just to watch and see who runs - make the rething sinners hiding away to jump up and think they're next for the ax.

Didn't I say that Ministorum bronze should just clear out all the fancy halls in the hive spires? All the killing and the cutting in the low habs and black levels, 's honest and Emperor-fearing, that is. Bloods might be scum and rething filth of the hive, but they don't keep servants chained up to chant over, cut and whatever else it says on this rething dataslate.

Now there's a question. How's Trall rething Castigan, lately Hereticus, know where the low habs and understruts even are, never you mind avoiding having his rething arse cut ten ways for his fancy augmetics. Way I think it is, we're off to shove a ready barrel into the ear of some spire-climbing low-hiver with a shiny new secret.

It's been years since I went down Barsk's way, but he still owes me a pile and glint from times ago. Won't he just be screwed up in the face to see debt walking in the door. You play high-market vat muscle, just about right for a Blood done good, and I'll do the talking.

Nah, really, I'll do the talking this time. You're just all trouble every rething time we go below.

[ Posted by Reason on March 25, 2008 | Permanent Link ]

Cultrix-Pancreator, Witch of the Gunmetal Undervaults

[Manse vox-record :: signo temporis 3.626.804 M41
Cenatio Viridis :: Seven Hall Manse :: Hive Voltis :: Scintilla
Adept-Militant Grambald]

So there I was, scratch-taped to some crumbled tribrace the wrong way up at the lowest end of the vertway crush, right where it came out at the undervault top, and looking like some glint hanging from the cathedra dome. Had a hanger brace for the long-las, rething waiting for the cutting to start way down below. Drip, drip, drip from all the hive filthwater that flows downaways.

Rething mess it was, like all the big vertways down to the undervault in Gunmetal - and all the rething maniacs in that hole. Reth me, every time him on high sends me there, it's rething mess, blood and scum. The gangers in Gunmetal, reth, every bleeder below the Highroads, they're all glitzed up on trancspike or too drenned to talk the straights, armed up like the gun-manufactories emptied out on them.

Rething right. It took me two days - two days! - to get down through the core crush, and that was the empty vert 'neath the Via Alchemica ward lows. The sputterdump up top leaks enough fyceline-green to keep even the crazy rethers away or dead. Reth, even the begger-children have rebreathers flesh-sutured in around there. You rething try the crush-spidering in a Klave sealsuit, done up like one of them high-fine spire dishes and ready for the cookers. Ditched it soon as I could, and it still took me about as long as Inquisitor Jonquad was willing to wait.

Reth, and that beremoth-faced bleeder from the army drew the crossway vent position halfway up the undervault bulkwall. Lucky rether was in like a thin sharp in a day, down the spine secondus Mechanicus lifters with the Inquisitor, and just ten markers of easy walking and climbing. Passing rething comments on the vox-link the whole time, when I could hear with the crush and all. Rether.

Now this was all a way after the burning and the screaming with the warpcraft in the Voltis spires, and after the macrorail terminus heretic scum Bothe and I turned up when cleaning loose ends. Real rething helpful we were, and Inquisitor Jonquad took me all the way to Gunmetal to help him drop the God-Emperor's own hammer on the Pancreator tainted. Would've taken Bothe too, but for that last metalface sinner with the autoblade. Real mess Bothe was after that one fell down, but still nothing left for the Arbites to work over - point of rething pride, there.

So's the Inquisitor'd got wind that some sinning heretic witch was being waited on by undervault Pancreator scum - has Gunmetal sewed up neat like a fingerglove, that one. Arbites bowing and scraping, glintspeakers on every deck, scints for the word. One thing led to another by way of grabbing a few sinners from the blackways and then up to that braincutting room in the Mechanicus spire. Now there's something to make a heretic scream and mess the vault floor - and he'd just but watched what happened the first rether to be put in the slot.

The rest of the scum, they was down there painting the bulkwalls like twists, banging on metal and chanting the bad names. Right beneath where I was taped up, they had the fires and some kind of big red plastent on top of a crushfall. Jonquad wanted the sinning right out and happening under our noses, the head Cultrix of all the heretics, spire and undervault, out in the open so as to point the Emperor's finger at them's most needing the hammer. Me and the beremoth being the hammer, with Jonquad and the rest to ...

Nah, Bothe was sitting this one out, I said. He was halfway stuck in some glow-vat while the medicae grew back the half of his arm got cut to blood and ribbons. Told him he shoulda' got the silver like me, touch of the Machine Spirits, makes everything work better - but you know what he's like about the Mechanicus. Now Jonquad, he had a bunch more army rethers from the Castrum Altus barracks where Gunmetal runs into the mountains. They was all down in the crushfall base and rot, the plan being to push the main sinners onto the open anvil, the better to hammer them rething flat and bloody.

Yeah, the rething plan. That went out the window pretty rething fast.

[Adnotamentum vocis :: signo temporis 3.668.804 M41
Archivist-Assignate Renna Hal]

Ah, the Interrogatus. It is the reason the Ordo maintains the Vexing Spire in Gunmetal City, and that under the strict and ancient terms of a Compact with the Magos of the Lathes. I am given to understand that the device is a sacred trust for the Mechanicus, a holy artifact of ages past with few parallels in the Golgenna Reach.

The Interrogatus occupies perhaps ten levels of the Spire, above the Machine Temple, and the Compact allows the Ordo to the sealed third level via the mid-spire landing platform. The device is swift and sublime in its operation; the Vault of Processing, and indeed the entire third level, are berefit of the Tech-Adepts and servitors who would swarm to tend any other device of such size. A single Tech-Priest accompanies Ordos retinues to the central chambers of the Interrogatus, to ensure that the correct rituals and terms are met. What lies within the other levels, I could not say, no more than I could divine the interior of the Machine Cult cube-temple that floats above the Heroes Processional.

The purpose of the device is information. A heretic is placed within the Euus Aperture and swallowed by the Interrogatus. The mechanisms of the device extract the living brain, which is cored and pierced by communicatory dentrites, set floating behind crystal in the Aspectus Vault. By terms of the Compact, an Inquisitor may ask no more than five questions of the Interrogatus prior to the death of the heretic's brain. The guiding Tech-Priest codifies each question into the wall-broad expanse of golden wires and rune keys that form the Lexicon Interrogatus, and an answer is provided through the same means by the holy mechanism.

The Interrogatus - much like the Moral Threat Seers of Magos Vermio - has never been well used by the Scintillan Conclave. By temperament, Inquisitors are inclined to trust loyal interrogators of study upbringing in the Scholarum Progenitum, and methods that leave a heretic broken and alive for further questioning. I cannot say I fault that point of view.

[ Posted by Reason on March 26, 2008 | Permanent Link ]