Author Topic: Uprising  (Read 1888 times)

Offline jakob

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« on: March 02, 2010, 11:43:17 PM »
The ghetto slums spread out for miles around, an ocean of corrugated iron housing and sewage filth and industrial pollution. An unsightly stain upon the earth. As one would imagine life within the slum city was harsh, unpleasant and miserable. Here lived the poorest of the poor, the desolate, the outcasts, untouchables and the mutants. The downtrodden population worked near enough as slave labour in countless black mines and factories. For generations the slum city grew and grew. For generations the people lived and died in the most dire of conditions. The people were born into wretched filth only to work to death in wretched filth. For generations the upper class government turned a blind eye to their plight. For those in power the populace of the slum cities were simply another natural resource of the planet to be exploited and used for the greater good. So long as the people continued to work then all was as it should be. The people were simply a statistic, numbers, nothing more.

For generations the peoples of the slums worked without complaint. Obedience and loyalty; that was what was required of them. To work and die for their Imperial Commander was to serve the Emporor Himself. One must ignore one's own life and needs and instead devote fully to the needs of their betters. To do so would earn one salvation upon  one's death. Obey always. Never question. One must die for the Emporor in order to gain meaning for one's life. Personal value is earned after, not during one's exsistence. So spoke the Lords and Commanders, the Priests and Bishops. They were to be obeyed, never questioned. Live not for yourself but die for the Imperium and ye shall know true salvation. For generations the people of the slums, the outcasts of the slums, the mutants of the slums obeyed. Toil and hardship, filth and death; all of this was to be endured. For generations. No complaint. Only loyalty. For generations. Filth and death. Poverty and disease. To be endured. Work for thy Emporor. To be free is to sin. Die for thy Emporor. For generations. Praise thy Emporor for the gift of hardship and toil. Worship thy Emporor and be grateful for the chance to die for Him. Sing of His glory with thine tears and sweat and blood. For generations. No complaint. Only loyalty. Obey always. Never question. Never question. Never question.

         The valkyries screamed over the ghettos once more, unleashing a hail of shells into the patch-work city. The buildings, poorly constructed as they were exploded as easily as if made from paper, crushing and maiming the habitants inside. Again the valkyries swooped over the city, again firing indiscriminantly upon the mass of  people. There was terror on the streets, blood flowed thick amongst the rubble and destruction. Children wailed in fear, mothers crying out at the horror. Carnage, destruction, chaos. Again and again the aircraft came, dealing death with each run, scores left wounded and killed. There was no pity here, no mercy. A lesson must be taught. The people must know their place., they must know the cost of defiance; the price of rebellion. Some of the habitants fired back at the flying marauders, shotgun shells and curses and stones, none of which had any effect. Engines screaming, gun nozzles red with over use the valkyries swooped over for the umpteenth time, their thirst for blood not yet sated. Confident in their superiority the pilots brought their iron mounts down low over the streets, dangerously low. Close and personal, the pilots wanted to look upon the faces of those to be gunned down. There was no reason to expect the resistance to be in possession of any heavy weapons. No reason to expect any credible threat from the habitants of the slums. Thus the valkyries were taken by complete surprise when an autocannon opened fire on them. At such a low altitude, the pilots had little chance to avoid the shells, little chance the firers would miss. The aircraft crashed into the tightly pact streets, enginges burning brightly in the night. It was at this point the armoured column of chimera troop transports came under fire from co-ordinated missile strikes. Trapped within the labyrinth of ramshackle buildings the tanks had little space to manouver and made easy targets. The planetery police force within howled as their transports burned around them. Flying debris of metal and limbs blew in every direction as the missiles struck home.

The arrogant military must be taught a lesson. The leaders of government must know their place. The church must be punished for their crimes against the people. This was the time for revolution, a time for change, a time for justice. For too long the oppression of the people had gone on unchecked. For too long the people had suffered in silence. But no more. Now there was to be a reckoning. The people would rise up. Rise up and claim justice. Justice for their fathers and mothers! Justice for their children and their children's children! And death! Death to the church, to the government, to the military! Death to all those who opposed the rightousness of the people! Death to those who oppose justice! Revolution and Death and Justice! Long live the people and the oppressed!

For two days the people of the slum city held out against the planet military before they fell. After two days of artillary bombarment and orbital strikes the people surrendered. The short lived resistance came to a bloody and ignoble end. Against such military might any hope of victory vanished. The various revolutionary leaders were rounded up and taken to camps to be tortured and executed. As a further warning against any future uprisings one tenth of the slum population were publically incinerated. Those who obey the Emperor earn everlasting salvation, those who oppose His Will shall burn in the eternal fires of the Warp.


Inquisitor Thrane strode into the small interogation room andlooked at the prisoner strapped to the leather seat. With a simple gesture he ordered his young acolyte to stand back from the victim. This prisoner was young, unseemly young to be one of the revolutionary leaders. His face was awash with blood and bruises, courtesy of his acolyte Interrogater. Thrane noted how the young man had had his fingers cut off from his left hand. This 'leader of the revolution' was now broken, the fire that once burned in his eyes well and truly extinguished. Thrane turned to his acolyte and nodded his approval at her work. His acolyte was still young and fresh but she was learning fast. Her youthful features now hardening with growing experience. Thrane brought a seat over towards the man strapped and sat down rather relaxed manner. He lit a cigarette as he looked at the prisoner face to face.

''Jakob Millr,'' started Thrane, ''this is your name, yes?''

The prisoner, Jakob, nodded in silence.

''I believe you may have tired of my acolyte's attention and may instead wish to talk with me instead. You may be surprised to know that we have a record on you. Oh yes, we know much about you, we know where you come from.
''Jakob Millr, born to a loyal and Emperor fearing family in the capitol city. A stable upbringing with reasonable wealth and comfort. You attended Saint Frankos' School where you graduated with respectable grades. A lack of physical fitness barred you from joining the ranks of the PDF and so you decided to serve His Will by joining the Holy Church. The abbot spoke highly of you and praised your dedication and talent. You rose from a lowly novice to the rank of preacher at a faster than average rate. You had a bright future ahead of you, full of opportunities. The abbot had even said that you possessed the talents to become a great missionary one day. And yet, despite all this potential you turned your back to the church and instead took up arms with the slum habitants, stirring up discontent and rebellious thoughts before proceeding to wage heresy against your masters. I'm sure you can understand that I am rather puzzled at this. Please, Mr Millr, would you care to enlighten me?''

With obvious pain and discomfort, Jakob replied. He was too weary now, too tired to resist.

''I fought against my masters because it was right. It was Just. The government do not care for their subjects, they care only for themselves. As a preacher I have walked down the halls of their palaces, I have seen their greed and decadance, the corruption and ineptitude. The poor toil and die only to fuel the lifestyle of their uncaring leaders. There is no justice there, only greed. I rose up against the Church because I have seen their hypocrisy. They too are decadent and impotent. The people of the slums starve daily, die young, all the while the bishops and priests live in luxury and molest little boys. You may call me a liar but I speak the truth. These leaders of government and church are corrupt and cancerous. They do not deserve obedience let alone respect. They live only to serve themselves and their desires at the expense of the poor. I have seen the poverty experienced in the slums. I see no justice, I see only evil, an evil that must be faught. So I took up arms against them. I joined the rebels gladly. It was my moral duty as a human man. I do not regret my decision, nor my fate. My only regret is that we failed. The oppresion will continue, the poor shall suffer while wicked men live in marble palaces and drink expensive wines.''

Thrane sat in silence for a few moments before grinning.

''You, my young Jakob are a fool. You are a fool and a heretic. You, in your blind naivity, commited treason most foul and under law must be executed for your crimes. As an Inquisitor blessed with authority from He-on-Terra I am duty bound to end your rebellious and discontent little life. Any who undermine His Will is deserving of death as you are aware. Goodbye traitorous Preacher Jakob Millr''

And with that Thrane pulled out his laspistol from its holster and placed it against Jakob's temple. But he did not fire. Instead he spoke again,

''Today, Jakob, you have a choice; you may either die here and now with your brains incinerated within your skull or you may swear loyalty to me and train as one of my acolytes. You believe in change, as do I. You believe in justice, as do I. You believe hypocrisy and negligence should not go unpunished, as do I. If humanity is to survive the perils it faces in this galaxy it must evolve. During my many years as a holy Inquisitor I have come to understand that if humanity is to evolve then it must first free itself of the shackles of this rotting Imperium. If humanity stays its current course then none of us shall survive. Change is vital. I have thus spent the last decades travelling throughout our lands searching out like-minded individuals. Rebels and heretics are common but few of them act out of selfless reasons. Many rebels are just as guilty and corrupt as their Imperial overlords. You however, are different. You are a rare breed of human Jakob. Join me, join my cause and we can inact justice and change. You faught for the people of the slums, join me and you will fight for humanity. Join me Jakob, or you can die here and now. The choice is yours.''

''Choice?'' caughed Jakob through a bruised throat, ''Choice? Now thats a joke if ever I heard one.'' 

Medic! MEDIC! . . We need some super-glue over here!

Offline jakob

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Re: Uprising
« Reply #1 on: March 03, 2010, 10:13:59 PM »
The Council Room itself was rather bare and bland, no different to the many others found around the starship Alpine. There was a single window on one wall looking out across deep space; infinite blackness with pinpricks of light from distant suns. In the centre of the room was a single round table with chairs positioned around it. Inquisitor Thrane sat alone in the room with his back to the window as he waited for his comrades to arrive.

None of his friends and collegues knew for sure how old Thrane was. That Thrane has lived for a very long time was not in question. His skin was lined and creased with age; a complex maze of wrinkles displayed centuries of hard earned experience and countless trials faced and overcome. A rough, almost scruffy beard; grey flecked with white hightened his look of old age. Old though Thrane was, none who knew and worked with him doubted his ability or resolve. He was Inquisitor, a tower of strength and wisdom for those he counted as friends and a foe to be feared for those he considered his enemies. His comrades, fellow warriors and acolytes in training had absolute trust and faith in him. He was their leader and had yet to let any of them down.

With a hiss the door of the room slid open and in entered his collegues. First in the room was Borrus; Thrane's personal bodyguard and longest serving member of his retinue. Borrus was a heavily scarred veteran of the Imperial Guard. He was a captain of an elite platoon of grav-chute troopers before attracting the attention of Inquisitor Thrane. Borrus had taken part in many military campains throughout his career and claims to have killed something on over a hundred worlds, a claim no one doubts. He was built like a mouintain and just as dependable. He had the respect from all of his fellow crew, all knew that if Borrus had your back during a fight then there was a good chance it would survive intact. 

Second to enter was his Chief-Interrogater Rakha Keene. Keene had come a long way since her initial recruitment. Once such a slight waif of a girl she has since matured into a grim and competent young woman. Hailing from a distant primitive world she was groomed by her people from an early age to become her tribe's shaman and priestess. It was said by her tribefolk that she had the power to speak with ancestors and spirits; the ability to summon creatures from the Beyond and bind them to her will. Her powers were a gift from the gods; she would ensure the tribe's crops grew healthy while protecting them from harm. Then one day a terrible demonic chariot descended from the sky with great fire and wind. Faceless warriors attacked the tribe and stole from them their revered shaman. That was all many years ago. Under the training and guidance of Inquisitor Thrane Keene had come to master her psychic powers and understant her place in the universe. She was a subject of the Imperium, in the retinue of a holy Inquisitor. It was her destiny to aid her master in smiting all those who wished harm to the Realm of Man, whoever they may be. And aid her master she did. Many traitors have fallen to her psychic attacks, terrible demonic entities banished back to Warp-hell, countless aliens reduced to ash and smoke. She was powerful and cold. She is almost ready to advance to full Inquisitor, Thrane mused as Keene took her seat at the table, if she performs well enough in our next mission, prehaps   . . . 

Third to enter was Thrane's tech priest, Gove01. Ensuring the working condition of all weapons and equipment, including the starship itself, Gove01 was an invaluable member of the retinue. Having a representative of the AdMech was also extremly useful. Thrane had countless reasons with which to be thankful for Gove01's knowledge and expertise. Of course, Gove01 being more machine than a true human meant that relating to him on a personal level was difficult. But it was a small price to pay if it meant always having enough amunition, a working ship and warm water in the showers.

Last to enter was Thrane's latest recruit into his retinue. Jakob was a former preacher from a civilised world. He once had great potential to rise within the ranks of the church but instead decided to throw his lot in with the planet's underclass attempt at revolution. The rebels failed obviously, after a brief but brutal response from the Guard. Jakob was captured as one of the rebel instigators and was sentenced to execution for his heresy. He owed Thrane his life for sparing him from death. Despite his naive beliefs in notions such as justice and fairness Thrane saw in him the potential to become a valuble servant of mankind. Dspite slow progression Jakob continues to undergo his training with quiet determination. He was still far too rough round the edges, thought Thrane, far too green. His heart was still too big at the clear expense of the size of his brain. But he was learning, slowly. Thrane still saw in him the potential, all he needed was more time, more experience, more wisdom.

With his closest members of his retinue assembled Thrane began to debrief them on their latest mission. It sounded simple, they had tackled many missions such as this before. There was no reason for any of them to expect the mission would end in disaster, no reason to expect that tragedy would befall them all. 

Medic! MEDIC! . . We need some super-glue over here!