[Inquisitor Vale]

As much to keep it in good order as for anything else, I shall post up the various pieces of fluff I write for my Inquisitor and other characters here:

Old Friends
In the words of Canoness Flavia of the Order of the Lexicon, a friend and spiritual counsellor in whose convent Vale often stays, both for research and as a retreat.

Inquisitor Ollanius Vale is an old man, even by the standards of the Emperor's Inquisition. Born almost four centuries ago, the hand that slew Magus Iscariot and lit the pyres of the foul witch-covens of Akelarre now trembles with palsy. Yet he was never a great crusading warrior, a Coteaz or a Lord Hector Rex, reverence them deeply as he does.  His retinue always contained more scholars than swordsmen. Long hours in the Librarium on Sulla's Vigil, or poring over the records of the Ecclesiarchy, bleached his skin as they sharpened his mind. The triumph of his career, the discovery of the Cult of the Marble God, a Chaos cult infesting the corrupt and lax hierarchs of the Ecclesiarchy in twelve systems, sprang from his noticing irregularities in the presentation of candidates to minor benefices spanning two hundred years.

The most striking thing about him, more so even than the formidable intellect or the thin, dry voice, always in High Gothic with his few confidants (a habit, he said, learnt under his old master and kept up to sustain his command of the language and to prevent idle talk) , is his piety. It has a depth and simplicity untouched by arrogance or the doubt which cankers in so many brilliant, pride-sodden minds.  It is a touching sight to see the venerable man stoop to kiss the feet of the assembled dignitaries and even the servitors and lesser clergy in the church or lie on the cold floor in floods of tears at his sins.

His long years of Inquisitorial work have ravaged his body, which is bolstered heavily by augmetics.  Every year, at the time of the Emperor's Ascension, he comes to the convent if he can, and I can see his health is failing. When he comes to stay with us of late, a medicae-servitor has joined his usual scribe -- for his aging frame, and for another reason. He is now always seen wrapped in heavy furs and velvets to keep out the cold, gripping his cane firmly. His associates know that the cane is a Null Rod. Though the scholars of the Ordo Malleus are well aware of the baleful effects of these weapons; and Vale adopted the cane halfway through his second century,  his mental capacities seem to most as sharp as ever and his eye still gleams with a pale light when hot on a trail.

It takes a closer knowledge to see that the decline has been staved off slowly and with much pain. Needless to say, he knows full well the effects of the Null Rod on his mind – learnt long ago in the library of old Inquisitor Cajetan and accepted with Amalathian resignation -- and has planned for them. The back of Vale's head is gone now, a mass of augmetic tubes, his prodigious memory and learning committed long in advance to cogitators which are then periodically implanted back into his brain when they start to fail. Privately, I may say that there is little more that can be safely done, even with the help of the Mechanicum and his old friend, if I may use the word, Magos Athenagoras* , ever willing to argue with his peers to allow Vale the use of some piece of technology normally reserved for the initiated.

Even with all of these precautions,  I notice ''Old Vale'', as the novices call him,  is apt to wander slightly in conversation, his one remaining hand to shake terribly. He sees foes everywhere and has dreadful nightmares, but all accepted, should the night-sister run to the retreatants' rooms because of the screams, with a gentle smile and his constant saying ''A little more for thee, dear Emperor''.

* Vale always has had an affection for the Mechanicum that goes beyond intellectual curiosity, seeing their replacement of the flesh with metal as having much the same goal as the cold baths, hair shirts and flagellations, the means of mortification of the Ecclesiarchy, he makes use of.

I do not think one can say that the Magi of the Adeptus Mechanicus have friends. Athenagoras, on his part,  appreciates  a fellow-scholar's mind and especially Vale's taste, not for prideful and dangerous speculations, but ordered facts. He sees him, perhaps, as a man as devoted to the Quest for Knowledge as anyone can be outside the Priesthood of Mars, and sees also, perhaps, the unchanging perfection of a machine in the unchanging Imperium that Vale desires.

[Inquisitor Vale]

A little piece of practice writing in character, -- the hymn is a compilation of quotes -- given life by HMKids ''Adeptus Mechanicus'', which, although described as 'metal' (a genre I have no time for)  captures how I imagine the Mechanicum perfectly.

LIBRARIUM INQUISITIONIS VIGILI SULLAE

+++++ Category: Adeptus Mechanicus, Lingua-Technis
+++++ Item Ref. : 060010919
++ Date Entered: 4028990.M41
Clearance Level: Light Magenta
+++++++  Author: Inquisitor Ollanius Vale


The Tersancta, the morning chant of the Mechanicum on the Forgeworlds of the Agrippa sub-Sector

***

Notae Inquisitionis

The Tersancta consists in a triple recitation of the Credo Omnissiah with the interpolation of three doxologies, the first in Low Gothic, the second in the Gimel tech-cant* spoken by the forge-serfs and by the priesthood in dealing with them, and the third in High Gothic or 'Tech' ( the languages seem to have been chosen in ascending order of sacredness – that of the Imperium, that of the forge-serfs and finally that of the initiated priests of the Omnissiah).

It is chanted every morning, before the first day-shift begins in the forges, in front of an altar of the Omnissiah set up so that the assembled labourers can see it.

Lingua technis is considered too sacred for even these solemn public rites and is in any case unintelligible to the mostly unaugmented labourers. The tech-cant is ancient, with only a few merely phonetic links to High Gothic (see Phonetica Gothica Alta by Sister Chrysostoma O.L for sound-changes into other dialects which seem to be mirrored in Gimel tech-cant) and contains many unique elements. My own understanding is exceedingly limited.

The tech-cant may be useful in attempts to decipher the lingua-technis. The idea evidently occurred to another member of the Holy Orders as I have since found a partial grammar and vocabulary, though a millennium old and possibly outdated, in the Supplementum Secretum pro usum Inquisitionis to the standard Lexica Dialecti Segmenti Pacifici , v. cli ch. cci. The litany appended to the end of the hymn is a commonly used one.

The great devotion of the forge-serfs is audible in their voices, pleading and begging. The cries and prostrations from the assembled labourers, struck down by shame at their sinful flesh, when the Credo Omnissiah is recited and throughout the rite, are most edifying.

* I devised this name myself. The principal forge-world of the sector is Quaternary Gimel. The others are lesser filiations all traceable to Quaternary Gimel.
                  

***

BEGINNING OF RECORD

There is no truth in flesh, only betrayal.
There is no strength in flesh, only weakness.
There is no constancy in flesh, only decay.
There is no certainty in flesh but death.

Holy Machine,
Holy and Mighty,
Holy and Undying
Have mercy on us.

There is no truth in flesh, only betrayal.
There is no strength in flesh, only weakness.
There is no constancy in flesh, only decay.
There is no certainty in flesh but death.

Agia e Mekhana
Agia Ischyra
Agia Athanata
Eleison imas.

There is no truth in flesh, only betrayal.
There is no strength in flesh, only weakness.
There is no constancy in flesh, only decay.
There is no certainty in flesh but death.

Sancta Machina
Sancta Fortis
Sancta Immortalis
Miserere nobis.

From the weakness of the mind, Omnissiah save us.
From the lies of the Antipath, circuit preserve us.
From the rage of the Beast, iron protect us,
From the temptations of the Fleshlord, silica cleanse us,
From the ravages of the Destroyer, anima heal us,
From this rotting cage of biomatter, Machine God set us free.

END OF RECORD

[Raghnall]

Well done. Fantastic depiction of the Adeptus Mechanicus and the Quest for Knowledge.
I particularly like this sort of academic, and this should hopefully motivate me to finally put pen to paper and do something similar for my namesake.*
Also, its nice to see that I'm not the only one using more traditional languages to represent local imperial dialects, although I personally prefer Old Norse and Sanskrit.

*Jealousy is often the best motivator.

[Inquisitor Vale]

A poem written on entering the Segmentum Solar while on pilgrimage to Holy Terra, from the papers of Inquisitor Ollanius Vale

Golden world, home of a Golden Throne,
Man's cradle, seat of a living God. Alone
and apart from all others, she stands
Queen of queens. With outstretched hands
and songs of bliss, they sigh, they die,
Who keep the silver paths that lie
between the stars. How far is it to Terra?
Hear my cry, ye who ply
across the void,
and bear me home to Terra.

Signed in blood:
Ollanius Vale me scripsit, 010.M42