[Log] Journal of Acolyte Octavius Parr

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[Log] Journal of Acolyte Octavius Parr; Dark Heresy
Tweet Topic Started: Nov 17 2010, 12:32 PM (366 Views)
-The Raging Zephyr-	Nov 17 2010, 12:32 PM Post #1
The Winds of Change Posts: 1,254 Group: Elite Member #11 Joined: March 7, 2007	The backstory: In the 41st millennium, mankind has descended into an almost feudal system of government, with planetary governors ruling over sectors of the galaxy, all working under the psychic influence of the ageless Emperor of Mankind residing on Holy Terra. Mankind has been under assault from enemies beyond the stars, creatures residing inside nightmares, and mutants within their own ranks. The Imperial Guard's ranks spread across lightyears of open space, and standing above them with few numbers but greater faith are the superhuman Space Marines. However, not even these brave men with the Emperor's will bolstering their ranks can stand a chance against all the evils threatening them. For this, they call in the Inquisition. Only the bravest dare join the Inquisition, for the sights seen by the men and women inducted into their service are not for the faint of heart. Horrific visages of demons, nightmarish images conjured from the minds of psychics, and aliens bred from the deepest darkest fears of mankind are but the slightest worry to an Inquisition-bred Acolyte. Acolytes are hand-picked by their Inquisitor for their fervor, restlessness, and dedication to a cause. Only the most skilled of soldiers, the most zealous of clerics and techpriests, and the most inquisitive of adepts are chosen for the job, and they are to perform to the greatest of expectations. For where there is man, the Emperor's will protects. This is the data log of one of the Emperor's hammer and shield. =][=



-The Raging Zephyr-	Nov 17 2010, 02:52 PM Post #2
The Winds of Change Posts: 1,254 Group: Elite Member #11 Joined: March 7, 2007	[character.backstory] Log of Octavius Parr Well Inquisitor, looks like I get to do something exciting for once. I think I know why I'm joining your little entourage, but just for peace of mind I think I'll tell you of what my life has been like myself, rather than let you have some scattered reports to work off of. I was born on the world of Malice. Lovely place to vacation, as long as you don't mind the chilling cold that covers half the planet in ice. I was born and raised in the 13th PDF Regiment, one of the few task forces that weren't suffering from starvation and frostbite on an everyday basis. I was brought up in camp by my father, a priest of the Emperor and husband to one of the greatest assassins the PDF ever fielded. My father and the rest of the troop raised me as a soldier, and treated me as nothing less. We were relatively close to the Cadian Gate and one of the Eldar craftworlds, so we always remained on vigil in case we were ever called to duty. Then, they came. They were like the Eldar, tall and lean in Xenos armor, but their armor was painted black, their weapons launched clouds of needles dripping with near-lethal poisons, their cannons howling forth with the screams of one thousand tortured souls. But even when they buried countless fletchettes into the flesh of our comrades or impaled them upon spiked nets to take back to their forces as slaves, we knew of worse. My mother was sent on a mission to assassinate one of the raider leaders, a creature called a Haemonculus. He was the head commander of the increasing number of raids, or so we assumed by his men constantly harrassing us and capturing every Guardsman that fell in combat. He was becoming predictable in his actions and where his forces struck, but perhaps he knew that. It was only with the Emperor's grace that my mother survived long enough to shove a monoblade so deep into the Xeno's chest that she could reach through with one hand out the other side. Her last transmissions were less than hopeful for us all, however. "The alien smiles," she gasped in her last breaths. "Joy in its own death..." How she died was a much more horrific story than what I'd ever want to witness again in my lifetime. When I worked as a Last Chancer under Colonel Schaeffer, my company constantly dealt with the terror that was Chaos. Not even a daemon from the warp could be as horrific as what came to be known as Wracks amongst us PDF. They were like the Eldar, but not. They were manlike-beasts, mutants pieced together with metallic instruments, relishing in the pain of their victims. According to my mother's words, they had needles for hands, scythes for arms, and hooks for ribs. They dripped with toxins and venom brewed in the labs of diabolical alchemists, and their needles could fill a man's blood with poison so fast that they would bleed out from the boils and cysts that rapidly developed and exploded upon their skin. But that wasn't how my mother died. Only through the Emperor's will did she live long enough to kill the Haemonculus after all of her blood was drained through the needles of these monsters. These aliens knew our fear. They knew how we would react upon hearing of these creatures. They wanted us to be scared. They thrived off of the terror in our hearts. My father wouldn't let them have the chance. There was one person my father loved more than his wife, and that was the Emperor. He channeled his fear into a violent rage and a religious fervor so strong that even the Commissars feared him and what he had become. But the Emperor did not protect him. He fell to the creatures of psychological torment just as his wife did. For once in my life, I felt alone. The troop morale was already fading, but mine had sunken so far that I suddenly felt empty. I couldn't even recognize fear anymore. I suppose that was when I truly started my military career. My squad operated under Commissar Brant. He was a callous man, like most officers of his designation, brutal in his command and straight to the point. Everyone feared the hangman in my group. Nobody questioned his orders, for he was the law. Many men died under his command, his preferred method of combat involving suicidal charges against aliens far stronger and far better equipped than us. There finally came a day when it all turned against him. We were outnumbered, outgunned by more raiders suddenly tearing through the Warp. Across the ground, the mutant beasts and Warp creatures encroached upon our position. In the air, hovering skiffs armed with cannons and nets swooped upon our key holdings on the battlefield. Our sergeant made the regretful motion to retreat before our lives were ended in the most horrific ways. Brant ended his life with a merciful Bolt round through the eye. Say it was my calling. Say that inspiration struck me in the most delightful way. While Brant gave the order to charge forward so that our lives could be sacrificed while the rest of the regiment made a swift retreat, my las rifle leveled with the back of his head. It seemed like it took an hour for him to turn to face the lasgun's barrel, even longer for his mouth to drop and his eyes to widen. Almost an entire day passed as the blood squirted from his forehead, a gaping hole left wide enough to see the battle raging behind him. The men in my squad could only stare at me as a wisp of smoke trailed from my rifle's barrel. A spontaneous thought flickered across my brain at that moment, and in that brief moment I could hear the words "Follow me!" ejaculate from my mouth.We charged up a nearby hill as the enemy forces closed upon our position. The hill was held by our fellow Guardsmen at one point in the battle, but they were either melted into slag or torn screaming into the air by the skiffs. They were at least kind enough to leave us their weapons as their lives came to an end. We took all that we could and retreated into an abandoned communications mast, armed to the teeth with rocket launchers, autocannons, and lascannons the size of a man. We had guns pointing out towards the entrances ready to pick off the mutants charging us, and lascannon guides calibrated to knock the skiffs out of the sky. Almost instantly, the battle turned our way. These men were too afraid to do anything else but follow orders, and I was too desensitized to care about my own mortality. I needed to get these men back home in one piece with as little casualties as possible across the regiment. So, we fought. We drove off the raiders for another day. It would be the last day I would ever have to deal with them. I was court-martialed once the regimental commander got wind of what went down. Apparently, the PDF doesn't take kindly to their deaths of their commissars. But, I was given a bit of leeway. I did save my squad, and I did help turn the tides against the enemy. So, instead of execution by firing squad I was allowed to live. I was even given a new commander in a man named Colonel Schaeffer. They fitted me with a brand new explosive collar for a bit of fashion flair, and was sent off to perform duties that I bet even a Space Marine would shudder at. I was a Last Chancer now, and no sooner than when I got transferred did the Eye of Terror open up. I earned a first-class ticket to Cadia and got my first up-close and personal look at what Mankind's worst foe really was like: The Chaos, as they were called, were once men, but were tainted by the Warp, where dreams and reality mix. They had gods of impressive stature and influence that affected the entire galaxy, with splinter cells of cultists worshipping on many planets incognito. Our missions involved infiltrating temples that were constructed across Cadia, to slow down the expansion of the Chaos forces by assassination of cultists and sorcerers, people so tainted by the Warp that they could summon hideous demons born from nightmares for the wholesale slaughter of men. I learned to hate what they called Flamers. Tiny little bastards, they kept me warmer than I ever had been on Malice. Too warm, in fact. I've got scars all over from their flaming breath, and I've lost more than one uniform because of it. I earned my nickname Crazy Eight by dealing with all of this fething madness with my lips formed into a grin and my knack to always pull us through the most dire of situations without breaking a sweat. If you ever need to beat a retreat while the forces of Chaos are breathing down your neck, I'll be the guy to lay down the fire from behind. I'm too much of a lunatic for my own good sometimes. I'll resort to sticking grenades in a cultist's pants with my mag-clip attached to the pin if that's what it takes to get the job done. Of all the missions that I've been in, one sticks out for me. Temple of Khorne, my squad had to move in and take out the head priests while we had the cover of a Cadian regiment piling in forces behind us. What we hadn't expected were the numerous daemons lining the halls. Huge hulking beasts the size of a Malice Mammoth came barreling down the halls at us. Panic struck us faster than a lasgun in the chest. Thankfully, the monsters were as dumb as they looked. We managed to elude a couple by escaping down a hallway. They slammed headfirst into each other, stumbling around dazed while our chests heaved and our lungs burned. We were lucky enough to find a changing room to duck into. At least, we thought we were lucky until we had an entire gun rack's worth of rifles stuffed up our noses. Standing before us were a squad of Eldar. Real Eldar, not the ones from Malice. Apparently, they were there to do the mission that we were sent to do, but also seemed to run across the same problems as us.There was a rush of excitement and fear that washed over me as I realized that the aliens standing before me were a Farseer and his own hand-picked soldiers. Apparently they thought a bunch of ragtag men with flashlights weren't anywhere near a threat compared to what roamed outside our shack. It was settled, then: We would draw out the beasts while the Eldar laid down the heavy weapons fire. It was better than my plan at least, though I did entertain the idea of shoving an entire belt of ammunition and grenades into the beast's gullets for the rest of the night. Together, we took down the daemons, and from then on we worked as a team to take down the cultists. But, we were too late. The leading sorcerers had already summoned the biggest, baddest fething beast I had ever seen in my life, something that they normally send in the Space Marines to take out. We had only one chance to take it out before the mainstay of our forces, man and Eldar, had to face this daemon head on. The Farseer and his group stayed to hold the daemon down as long as they possibly could. We, on the other hand, ran off to set up charges to bring the temple down to the ground. Even if the Eldar could only wound the beast, there was no possible way it could ever survive the entire building being brought down on its head. This was our last chance. If we failed, we failed the regiment that brought us here. We would fail the Emperor if we didn't stop this evil from escaping. Of course, I wouldn't be writing this if we didn't succeed. It doesn't make for an exciting story, but it sure was more than I ever expected from the Guard. I guess that's why I was snatched up for the Ordo Xenos, given that I've had firsthand contact with different Eldar. Safer for sanity than dealing with daemons, I have to admit. I'll be glad to work under you, Inquistor. I'm sure it'll be more exciting than being in the Last Chancers, I'll tell you that. May the Emperor's light shine upon us all.



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