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I have always disliked worlds such as this one. Some half forgotten backwater world until a report of a possible daemonic event filters true the endless links of the Imperial chain of command. There is one more reason for my dislike of such places. Even for a man like me things can go sourly and the required amount of armed men that can be use to remedy such things may be lacking.
However one may feel duty comes before fear and mistrust. So on to this world myself and my companions arrive to put an end to the heresy that seems to be brewing amongst the unwashed and unenlightened masses that call it home


The moon hangs pale and full above our heads as we descend the time worn steps that leads down to the ruined garden. The dead shapes of rose bushes and withered flowers adorns the fringes of our vision and a atmosphere of ages gone by grips my mind.

As I and my companions reach the bottom of the steps we pause, Hendric seems more plagued by this place than the rest of us, his pale features seems wrought with agony. He leans on his sturdy cane and whispers to voices that we his companions cannot hear “ Begone spirits of seasons passed! This time is not yours to come forth from the Stygian abyss”.
This is not unusual for someone who is cursed with gifts like him but still it still chills my weary bones when he communicates with them.
But I have seen far worse and heard things that would make the stomach of lesser men turn in disgust. Such is the lot of a servant of the Inquisition to forever be haunted by the memories of nightmares brought to life by madmen and insidious creatures of a evil mindset.

I feel that any readers should be given an explanation to all this however. Myself and my acolytes came here to investigate and possibly destroy a ting most foul. It has been given the name of the Siren of Nephilim. This thing is rumoured to be of daemonic origin but yet have its root in these very gardens that accordingly to records found in the planetary archives, from these dusty tomes my now deceased scholar found hints at that these gardens have been here since well the first settler set foot here.
But I digress the reason for us coming here beside combating the forces of corruption is that it seems that this place may yield great secrets if one where to find the correct key to this macabre puzzle of death & disappearing folk.

I tell my servants to keep close and trust in the immortal emperor and for the sake of the throne to not touch anything. Who knows what may be lurking in these pale ruins of despair.
Alas one of the local law keepers fail to heed my warnings and bends down to pick up a crimson red piece of cloth, when the poor man looks up he stares into what is the last thing the condemn soul sees, all we hear is a almost soothing voice almost chant the fellows name followed by a cry for help then silence. When we reach where the sound came from all that remains is a withered husk of man with his hearth pulled out.

Further down the gravel path we find it, shrivelled up and punctured as if someone with long nails merely pricked it.
I call out to my servant Hendric and ask him if he can shed light on who or what did this, but all I get from him is a slight shake of the head. Nor can any other of my servants offer any helpful information.
Normally his talented gaze and psychic powers reveal hidden tracks or glues but no such things can be found it seems.





As I stand there I can not help to shake the feeling of uneasiness, I am no stranger to the workings and actions of both daemonic forces and those of heretics. But this place is unlike anything I have ever seen, the whole world seems to be gripped by apathy and a sense of impending doom. I saw in the the crowds we passed on our way to the planetary administration and I feel it emitting from the very earth we stand on.
My hands finds the aquilia hanging around my neck, I grasp it firmly and mutter the litanies of purity and steadfastness as we begin to explore this garden of death.

Grasping the sword that normally rests on my hip I step around a corner while my acolytes fan out around me guns and other devices of death humming with eagerness for violence and service to the Emperor.
When my eyes first spot our prey a wave of terror momentarily grips my hearth before the steel cage that shields it kick in once more.
The vile creature looks like a pale and malnourished woman of a young age. Her raven black hair hangs in long twisting curls and the tattered red dress that covers her blasphemous body seems stained with gore.

She seems to be awaiting our first move, she needs not wait long. A muffled hiss sounds as I active my sword and the air crackles with raw power as my psychic sends tendrils of light spreading towards her.
My other acolytes let their weapons speak their righteous hymns of battle.
Unaffected by these acts she merely start to sing a low mournful tune as she lunges at me, barley avoiding her needle like talons I swipe at her with my sword while my lips sings my disgust and hate for her twisted kin.
“GO BACK TO THE EMPYRIAN FOUL DAEMON HAG!” I howl as she swings at me once more, but now it dawns on us that she is not alone. Emerging from the shadows the forms of cultists is illuminated by the flashing weapons and psychic powers unleashed.

I curse myself for being such a fool. This should be expected but alas it was not done in our rush to end this nightmare.
As the sea of cultists close in the hag disappears in a mist that stinks of sulphur and taint.
Now we will see who will emerge victorious.

Good suspenseful start! It reminds me in places of old Dr Who novelisations (that's a good thing, btw ). Creepy stuff. Any link to your previous work?

I agree with Necroagogo; excellent start. I'm eager for more.

@Necroagogo : Perhaps there is a link between this and some of my other 40k work, not decided yet. This was created after I had finished reading the RPG book Dicipels of the dark gods

I approve ! Marvelous work Trondheim.

Thank you Obsidian King and to those who asked if this is related to my other 40k ramblings, yes it is. Expect grimness and power armourd related intervetion soon, but not as you migth expect

The waves of foul traitors spills fourth from the shadows howling their obscene war cries and chants. They wear th ragged uniforms of low hivers and other civilian occupations.
The first one of them to fall is a fat man clad in the robes of a scribe, the is struck down by a slug from a shotgun fired by one of my henchmen, the clack of the weapon as it spits out the spent cartridge is a tune I am very familiar with.

Many more traitors are struck down by lasfire and shotgun shots. But is like pissing on a whole hive city in flames. It will not help in any regards.
I run the first one to come within reach of my sword true and hack another down. The first man weeps like a lunatic as his guts spill fourth, I stomp hard on his throat ending his life.
Around me my friends fight like saints if be it somewhat unorthodoxly saints. I see Sandra my eternal companion empty her bolter magazine towards a crowd of heretics that tries to rush her, they all die when the fragmentation shells rip their unprotected bodies apart. Then one reaches her and she rewards the swine with a brutal kick to the shin followed by a punch that could kill any mortal man to the head.
That woman is just as deadly as she is beautiful, her suit of amour gives her a almost regal look. I will always remember the day she joined my staff and left her order behind to serve with us.
A new attacker has his manhood ripped of and while he screams in agony she rips his jaw clean of and beats him to death with it in a show of gore that stains her pristine face.

But my mind quickly once again is occupied with attempting to keep me alive, there seems to be no end to these foul bastards. I notice several of my henchmen have died and that the reaming ones are hardly pressed. As I dodge a jab from a knife armed heretic a blow sends me reeling. I loose my footing and fall down hard. The blow to finish me never comes, for a almost painful light spreads from the shadow. It seems to radiate from everywhere but I know better, it seems Hendric finally has thrown of his shackles and unleashed his power. The filth is enveloped in searing light and many falls to the ground howling in fear, the rest simply flee from this show of the horrid powers of the abyss.
As I stagger to my feet I feel blood running down my head and a stinging pain in my left side. It seems my surviving companions too are marked by this unexpected and brutal fight.

In my mind I chastise myself for acting like a Grox in heat, damnation this could have gone much worse. Yes I will repent for this once we are away from this place.
I order my acolytes to tend to the wounded and dispose of the dead. I also tell the small number of surviving local troops to call for some sort of transport. This task they seem to jump at, cant say I blame them. This place makes my skin tingle that is for sure.

While our dear Inquisitorial friend and his remaining companions beat a tactical retreat let us shift to a new player in this grim tale of heresy and stalwart servants of the immortal father of mankind!


Alexander was never brave or particularity good at being a soldier, but he always thought he would manage to do his duty if the enemy came for him and his friends in the PDF regiment they served in. but now he knew he had failed them, the thundering roar of the guns of the massive monsters now butchering his friends has stolen his will to live, and seeing their leader hack the commander down and then butcher everyone else within his reach made him vomit.
As the towering figure in front of him put a fresh magazine in his massive weapon and aimed at his trembling form all he could manage to say was the following
“Why......Oh Emperor save me”
His plea for mercy was cut short when a single bolt round hit his head and sent a shower of gore onto the wall behind him.

The air is filled with dust and the remains of dead guards. A massive figure stalks down the ravaged corridor with his sword in hand and pistol ready. His sweep reveals no survivors, a cold grin spreads across his bloodstained face.
”All secured my lord. We now control this place “
The reply comes over a crackling vox line
“ Good work brother. Any casualties amongst your own team ?”
The walking god of war replies with something that could be mistaken for a smile on his face
“None sire”

Deactivating the link he steps out into the night outside. There he finds his brothers waiting dutifully weapons sweeping the area.

He mutters a command and they follow him into the night. They had achieved their objectives her, now they could announce their coming to the fools attempting to create order from the chaos they had sown.

"A new attacker has his manhood ripped of and while he screams in agony she rips his jaw clean of and beats him to death with it in a show of gore that stains her pristine face. " No kill like overkill.

Great new entry, very well written. The part at the end is quite ominous.

Glad you liked it and yes, I think this may turn out to be a very, very grim story. Even by my standards

I'll be following this with very keen interest

 LoneLictor wrote:
"A new attacker has his manhood ripped of and while he screams in agony she rips his jaw clean of and beats him to death with it in a show of gore that stains her pristine face. " No kill like overkill.

Yup, that was the bit which made the biggest impression on me, too.

So was she one of the Sororitas? If so, I want to know which brand of aftershave the lead character wears ...

Nice read, Trondheim. Thanks.

 Necroagogo wrote:

 LoneLictor wrote:
"A new attacker has his manhood ripped of and while he screams in agony she rips his jaw clean of and beats him to death with it in a show of gore that stains her pristine face. " No kill like overkill.

Yup, that was the bit which made the biggest impression on me, too.

So was she one of the Sororitas? If so, I want to know which brand of aftershave the lead character wears ...

Nice read, Trondheim. Thanks.

Haha I imagien it did make an impresion Yes she is a Sororitas, and as far as afterhsave I think he uses the one branded Inqusitorial perfume of purifying. And thanks for enjoying it it is for you guys I post this things so once again thanks

I awake and feel that my body dose not appreciate duels with heretics and daemon lovers as it used to. My wounds are well tended to but I feel stiff and somewhat sore, it seems age has caught up to me after all.
Finding a new set of cloths and my personal effect cleaned of blood and gore, and a new pair of boots awaiting me lifts my dour mood however, and when I am dressed I feel slightly better.
When I walk into the room that serves as the place where my acolytes do their preparation and research they all look up. Clearly something or someone has happened during the night that has passed.
The one to break the news is Sandra, her amour softly humming as she walks up to me.
“My lord one of the PDF regiments that where guarding the capitol had been slaughtered to the last man, in all two thousand men lies dead.”
Pausing to draw breath she continues
“The governor was very clear that he wanted to see you when you where available. Although I told him that he would need to wait since your time is valuable and not to be spent of fat fools.”

Ah yes that woman has no time for the acts of being nice and diplomatic, but that was not why I asked for her service either. She is a formidable fighter and a zealot without equals. Behind those eyes a seething hatred for incompetence and foolishness blazes like a furnace.
But the thing that is more important than a governor with hurt feelings are the massacre that has occurred during the night.
This was not what this already frighted world needed to hear about.
“What do we know” I ask to no one particular as I look around to those gathered here.

The first to speak is the grim figure of Thomas, he wears the battle dress worn by his fellow Kriegian guardsmen. His face hidden behind a gas mask that he seem to wear at all times.
“My lord someone in the compound managed to activate vox link and transmit the sounds of the fight”.
He pushes a button and the audio file is played out for us all to hear.
First we hear someone scream that they are under attack by unidentified foes then we hear it. The loud and unmistakeable booming sounds of bolter being fired. Followed by heavy footsteps and a low growling that can only come from a chain weapon of sorts.
Then we hear someone scream in terror as it sounds like the massive walls are breached. Then the transmission goes dead
we stand in silence for a short time, then it is Sandra who breaks it.
“That was without any doubt the sound of Astartes weaponry, it is clear that we face far more than a mere cult uprising here. Whoever these warriors are we need to act fast.”
When she is done she leaves us and walks of in the direction of the makeshift armory further down the hallways.

I stand alone in the room now, my mind racing with the multitude of thoughts that swirls around it in. Emperor be praised Astartes here....... Anything but this I had prayed for, if it turns ut they are traitors I fear we all may end up as burning sacrifices to the dark gods. And if they are loyal well then they clearly do not see to well on anyone who oppose them.
I grab a passing Tech adept and instruct him to send a message to a number of people if I should happen to fail in my duty.


Meanwhile somewhere in the deep bowls of the hive city Gomorrah a gathering of might is under way. Five full squads of Astartes stands silently watch as their leaders talk amongst themselves.
They had come to this world searching for a long lost relic that their chapter master deemed vital to their cause against the hideous Slaugth and their Amarathian syndicate minions.
Leading this crusade is their renowned and hallowed Brother Liberian Octavious.

“We have word my lord that Sergeant Gregorian and his task force achieved their goal and collected the logia engine from the vault hidden beneath the compound.” a helmet wearing stern-guard said and bowed before his lord.

“My thanks for informing me” the librarian said and gripped the tall staff he held in his left hand. He hated hive cities they always reeked of corruption and sin. But now that they had what they needed to find this damned relic they could hopefully soon leave, and he would be damned if any inbred fool would hinder his mission or the triumph of his brothers.
Let the mortals tremble in fear as their world burns he thought and smiled a wolfish grin. Perhaps this would teach them to cheat their rulers for the due respect and worship the Angels of Death deserved.
He was roused from his train of thought when his second in command asked for orders.
The Astartes in question stood silently and awaited his response.

“We have what we need, let us set about the beginning of the end. We shall head back to he surface and rejoin our brothers who awaits us in orbit. Now the time has come to reveal us to those who dwell in fear here.”




I sit and read reports from the Arbites in the capitol of this world, it seems someone has purged the lower reaches of the hive for any sort of gangs. And those who remain has had their mind broken and reduced to drooling fools, more disturbingly it seems that hidden beneath the compound that was attacked outside the city there lay a hidden vault.
So in addition to a daemonic hag, a haunted ruin and cultists we also have a third party searching for something on this very world. I feel a headache fast approaching from this chaos. As I let my lips touch the glass with amasec I am interrupted by a familiar voice.

Standing in the door is Sandra, her pale face shining like a beacon of hope
“My lord sorry to interrupt you at this time, but there is something you need to know. Twenty standard minutes ago the planetary command center was hailed by a Astartes fleet of five ships.”

I let my glass drop from my hands, its content splashes over my desk. However Sandra is not done.
“It seems the Death Hands have a grudge to settle with someone on this world. Their lord told us in no subtle terms he expects to be greeted by you when he arrive.”

Another great entry.

Damn, those Astartes seem scary. For loyalists, they sure are bloodthirsty. Personally, I like that in Astartes. They're supposed to be Angels of Death, not some wimpy pacifists.

Thank you

Yes I personally like to portray them that way, I have always imagined them to be like this, and beside the name says it all.
And expect another update shortly, as I am stuck at home with a severe case of back problems

Rain pours down from a steel grey sky and thunder rumbles in the distance as we stand on the massive landing platform outside the PDF headquarters in the hive city of Gomorrah, we all feel the common feeling of uneasiness that has spread amongst the staff and my own retinue.
One never knows how a member of the Astartes and particularly a librarian will feel about one self. Their abilities far outweigh anything seeing amongst all but a few outside their chapters and veils of secrets.

Then we see them coming down from the heavens trailing fire as they descend towards us. Four massive gunships lands while their hulls radiate heat and smoke, the very air is filed with the scent of burning ozone and warm metals.
With a hiss the ramps on all four ships begin to lower themselves towards the wet ground beneath them.
Then they appear as if in perfectly drilled unison striding down the ramps in grim silence they march. At the head of this frightening column marches a massive Astartes.

His head is hidden in a great hood and he clutches a tall staff that has the imperial eagle on its brass studded head. His amour is colored in deep shades of grey and granite shades. But the most unsettling thing about this figure is the slight buzzing I feel in my head as he walks up to us and merely glares at us.
This man is beyond any doubt someone who it will pay to be on good terms with. His brothers too have a almost regal but still dreadful feel about them.

“Who is the Inquisitor I am told are present on this wrenched world.” he says with a voice that carries the weight of many centuries gone past.
I gather myself and answers this man “ I am that individual you seek librarian. Welcome to Gomorrah”

My welcome is received with a nod and a few words. All in all this went rather well, but I can not help shake the feeling they already know everything that is to be known about the events that has taken place here.
The Astartes seem less than friendly towards anyone not of use to them but they keep a well mannered show of gratefulness when they are presented with a place to set up their own quarters.
As we leave the PDF headquarters I mention this to Sandra and several others of my senior acolytes, they all agree. The Angels of Death knows more than they are willing to admit but calling them out on it will have to wait. We need time and more importantly to dispense of this daemon hag and her consort of servants.


So once again we set out on our hunt, but now we are much more prepared for whatever lies ahead of us. Gone are the lasguns and auto guns, Hellheim pattern bolter’s and flamers supported by shotgun armed henchmen will grant any heretic lurking about a nasty case of death.
In addition to this carapace armour has been requisitioned from the local armoury for us all. I wish to take no chances.


Leading the way are Sandra and her shadow of a sister. They stalk the deserted underground tunnels in complete silence. This is a task they are very well skilled for, we need any sentries dealt with silently and these two women will grant swift and cold death to anyone who dares be out and abut this night.
As we draw nearer to the ruined gardens we come across the remains of what looks like mutants, they have been butchered like animals. These bodies bear the traces of death courtesy of our recently arrived Astartes allies.
So we are not alone in the night it seems then, as these thoughts pass my mind my vox crackles to life.

“Inquisitor Vana this is Sergeant Gregorian of the Death Hands, we cleared the way for you.” a deep rumbling voice says over the channel.

“My thanks sergeant Gregorian, what do I own the honor of having Astartes watch over me this night?” I ask and signal to my retinue to take cover. No point in taking chances with Astartes like these.

The reply is short “ Don’t thank me Inquisitor thank my lord for it. We are hunting the same prey it seems “ he says and the channel is closed with a click.

After a few hours spent in silence and creeping forwards in silence we reach our goal. The ruined gardens of Nephilim where our brave comrades died and the foul hag got away.
As we climb down the stairs and into the ruins below we find signs of the passing of Sandra and her sister. It seems the enemy has lost scores of followers this night, many have had their neck broken or their skulls caved in. but m,most bear the witness of the use of their trademark weapon, a deadly axe that was forged from adamantium and blessed by the Tech priests of Mars long ago.
As we cross a large open plaza we see them waiting for us, they greet us with a salute before giving us their findings.

Sandra sneers beneath her helmet as she twist the neck of young woman and buries her axe in skull of a old man. How she hates these wrenched forms of life, their very presence makes her blood boil with rage.
What enrages her more is the fool of a man she is forced to serve, all however will come to pass when her true master grants her what she has been craving for all these years. A shudder passes down her spine as she thinks about the Astartes that has for almost twenty years held her to his service.
Oh woe to those who discover their connection, being forced to fake love and loyalty was horrendous enough but knowing she would need to do it for so long was something else. Yes revenge would taste good when it was her to be had.

Her sister mute as always signals that she understands what her relative is thinking about, that one is like the devil Sandra thinks. Her sister never entered the ranks of the church. Instead her path took her along a way very seldom traveled And now almost four decades later it showed. As she merged with the shadows and brought death to all.

Excellent entry. Sandra is almost as scary as the Astartes.

Well that is always good to hear from someone like you. However I must ask, anything you want more of? Or some detail you feel need more explanation?

Okay so my dear readers, this will be the last one for a few days. So stay tuned


Watching her sister twist the woman’s neck brings a smile to her face, a predatory smile that sends shivers down the spines on anyone still left alive. She vaults over a large pipeline and lands on her knees, weapons ready she scans the surrounding area for any treats. When none are seen she rises to her full height, her armour is unlike that of her sister. It is more similar to that worn by storm troopers than the brides of the Emperor,

She grips the cold steel of her blade and her eager bolt pistol as she waits for her. The two bloodstained women look at each other, and without saying a word they agree on plans made hours and hours ago.
One will report back to their group while the other will bring word to the Astartes that hunted their pray deeper down in the stinking hive.
While her sister departed for the fool Vana she began to plan her way, her armour allowed her to blend in with the gloom of the night, with a face like stone the mute woman disappeared like a ghost in the night.

I find myself in sheer awe when she returns, she is bloodied and seems a bit worse for wear. But else my faithful Sandra seems to be in good shape.
As we delve deeper into the abandon garden Hendric begins to mutter under his breath, he seems to struggle to keep himself composted.
I ask him what ails him, I will never forget those words.
“She draws near, this night her torment will end when she bade in the blood of the seeker. Only then will her bonds be broken and the lord of change will gain his price.”

“Prepare to defend yourself. Watch the shadows!” I say and prepare my blade while I mutter a silent prayer as I sprinkle quicksilver on the ground.
My acolytes tense and bring their weapons up. The only one who remains calm and do not seem to fear the coming meeting is Sandra. Instead she starts to whistle as she loads her weapon and puts her helmet back on.
The red eyes make her look like a creature from a evil dream, her charcoal black armour with the crimson red lilly on the chest seem to radiate death.
I find myself glad she is on my side, I would hate to cross blades with her outside the sparring cage.

Then like it all breaks loose once again the heretics pours forth but now they find themselves facing a foe who knows they are coming. And more importantly we are much better prepared now, a shower of bolter slugs and gouts of flame drive them back. I toss a flask of holy water onto a charging traitor, he howls as his skin melts from his face and the flesh drips of his bones as the water takes effect on his corrupted form.
Return fire rattles along the walls but it is too disorganized to have any real effect on us. Beside auto guns and old worn out lasguns can not match bolter’s for sheer destructive power.

Soon ony dead heretics remains and we press on, now we begin to see clear signs of cult activity. Totems has been raised and adorned with flayed corpses, and bloody human hides. Twisted symbols of chaos adorns the ruined gardens that surrounds us now.


Sergeant Gregorian stands in the ravaged former temple dedicated to the dark gods, by the Emperor that foul thing was a nightmare to send back to the empyrean. Of the twenty brothers that followed him down here only twelve still lived. The rest had died when the hag attacked them alongside her never ending tide of servants, both daemonic and mortal.
He gazed down on the gore stained sword in his hands and his mind drifed back to the struggle that had just ended.

“CONSENRTAE FIRE BROTHERS!” he roared over the dim of battle, the barks of bolter’s and whoosh of both melta guns and flamers competed with the hiss of lasguns and barks of stubbers as they fought their way downwards true the temple.

His brought his sword down in a sweeping arc that cleaved several of the fools in two. Letting of a series of shots from his pistol he rammed his now growling weapon into the maw of a leering daemon and yanked hard as it bit down on the blade.
Yes these foul things would all die by his hands, one by one if need be.
But soon this second wave of fodder stopped throwing themselves at him and his brothers, the Death Hands advanced with caution in their steps.

As they made their way down the wide staircase they where again and again assaulted by waves upon waves of cultists, clearly they where getting close.
As they reached the bottom and what seemed to be the massive mian hall of the tempel they saw their price before them. But as they also noticed they where not alone down here.

Floating on a a plume of pale mist the hag awaited them. Her gore stained features and her torn cloths spoke of old power, but most of all her cool and controlled demeanour told them she was no ordinary daemon spawn from the depths of hell itself.

With a howl the remaining fodder stormed at them, by now the Astartes was all but empty of ammunition but this did not phase them. They greeted their foes with the last remains and then drew cold tempered steel and charged the hated heretics with howls of rage on their lips.


Awakening from his thoughts the sergeant gave orders to leave this place. But most importantly bring the treasure they had come for. The banishment of a hag was a added bonus but a major annoyance to him. Shedding blood to kill such a wrenched whore was not his idea of doing the emperors work. But he did not question his honoured lord who asked him to do this task.
As they emerged into the nigth above ground a familiar figure awaited them.

She looked like a nightmare made manifest for any disloyal fool stumbling about above ground. Her pale and ragged face was blank as a sheet of parchment. But her hands was stained with blood and so was her long slender sword, that she was busy cleaning with her tongue.

This.....creature always made controlling ones desire to shoot her on sight hard. But she was a valuable tool to his lord and the chapter more importantly.
“Report woman” he growls with disgust barly hidden in his deep voice.
She looks at him with eyes that radiate madness but she nods and hands him a piece of paper. Inscribed in blood is her report to her masters.

“Command are you seeing this” he asks over the link.
“ Yes sergeant. Is the asset in need of medical assist?” asks command.

“Negative, she is unharmed but her madness still remains strong.” he says before terminating the link.

“So I take it your hunt went well then” he asks knowing he will not receive a reply as he has come to not expect.

But as he and his brothers begin to disappear into the she mutters a barley audible yes and laughs like one possed while she plays with a severed finger.
When we reach the ruins that leads down into the bowls of the catacombs beneath us we see a all too familiar figure. It is that damned abomination again. Had she not been such a useful tool and the sister of Sandra I would have destroyed long ago.
She sits on a old and weather tombstone and plays with a severed finger while her eyes wander to and from those who just now has caught up with her.

I ask Sandra in a somewhat angry tone “Well what has your sister learned about this place. Was it she who butchered the guards?”
Sandra simply stares at me and whispers something in her relatives ear, it seems to light a spark in that web way of madness of hers.
She hands her a piece of parchment and points towards a massive hole in the wall of a disused building.

Sandra speaks with a voice that could make the fires of war freeze, what is with these two vengeful souls I ponder and make a mental note to keep an eye on them.
“That way....Although we might be surprised on our way down, its like a maze down there. Follow the trail she told me.” these last words she says with a glimmer in her eyes that makes a few acolytes shiver in discomfort.

The action is excellently written. It feels very energetic and fast paced. Well done.

So how do you like her sister?

Pretty creepy. Of course, most of the people in this story are.

Well yes. She is actually based on someone I know. Who fits the bill of tirr crazy very well. And as I mentioned earlier this will be my most grim work so far. Also I tend to use stuff from any Dark Heresy games I have partaken in recently. I will also ask for a LoneLictor review of this assembled ramblings

This is turning into a nicely-rounded, well-layered tale, Trondheim. The characterisation's well-worked (the sisters are particularly abhorrent - based on real people ... eek!). It's good to see it from multiple perspectives, too - that really breathes life into it.

Hope the back problems ease up, mate.

I'd run it through a spell checker of some kind.
It's pretty good apart from that, the story is intriguing. Personally i'd change their chapter name from Death Hands to Death's Hand...

I steel my nerves and order my acolytes to advance true the gaping hole that leads down into the lair of our prey. As we enter our nostrils are assailed by the stench of blood and human excrements, clearly someone have already paid whoever dwelled here a visit, and not a social call.
Damnation I think as one of my henchmen turn a corpse over only to discovered that its been mauled by a chain sword

We soon stumble upon heaps of dead cultists and mutants by what remains of them, many bear the signs of being hacked into pieces and other looks like they have been burnt alive.
Suddenly I find myself stepping on spent shell casings by the hundreds, I pick one up and examine it. Yes it is as I suspected bolter shells litter the floor, it seems the good sergeant Gregorian has much to answer for when I meet him and his lord. Secrecy is one thing but interfering with Inquisitorial matter is a whole different league.
But my thoughts are interrupted when one of my men calls out “My lord we have a live one here!”

That simple comment sends us all rushing over to where he stands. In front of him lies a young girl, she is clearly mortally wounded by a gaping hole on her shoulder. But she clings to life as my servant kneels by her.
She struggles to say what is most likely her last words in this world.
“They came for her.....the angels of justice, Oh Emperor forgive for I have strayed from your path” is the last words she manages to say before her head goes limp and her laboured breathing stops.
So the puzzle begins to make sense now. Clearly these angels where Astartes but why do they seem to be in such a rush to beat us to this damned hag!
Once again I find myself wishing I had more time and more resources at my disposal but as ever I feel like I am merely playing catch up with events that seem to unfold at a rapid pace.
Lord knows I feel old and batherd at times like this. Where have all the years gone I sometimes find myself wondering.

Snapping back to the situation at hand I tell my companions to press on, time now is against us. We need to find out what took place here.
But as we are about to start our decent down the bloodstained staircase Sandra says
“My lord there seems to be two set of stairs here.... I suggest that we divided our self and cover more ground that way. I will go with the group that heads down that way while my sister will go with you sire”
She grins behind her helmet, hopefully the bastard will take the bait. Then her revenge will come much closer to happening and the death of this circus of fools will bring her great satisfaction.
Her sister stands there, the blank face now replaced by a almost feral grin as she feels the coming of battle and bloodshed to follow.
Her sword feels heavy in her hand but it reassures her that all will soon be over, her weapons and her sister is all that have not betrayed her at one point.
On the private vox link they share Sandra tells her what will happen when they are alone with the group they will follow. And what will happen once they have Inquisitor Vana alone.

Her suggestion is a sound one as always, I swear sometimes it almost unnerves me how she can predict how an enemy will have their hiding places layed out, or how the foe will move their forces about the battlefield

“Yes a good suggestion Sandra. But be cautions, and I want you to come with me. Your sister can follow the other group.” I tell her, there is no chance in the burning hells I wish to have that abomination with me alone if things so go awry below.

Good story, and damn are those sisters scary! Love the characters and the grimness in the story. I will be watching this closely.

I'm quite enjoying the story, its a bit odd and intriguing, but i'd check the grammer, it take me a few goes at some sentences, but very good story!

Thank you, I am aware of the grammar is a bit odd at times. Rest assured I will try to remedy the situation

I'm worried about the Inquisitor; it seems like he's getting in over his head.