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Olluk the Scourge: Introduction - Slash J | |
| Within the hollowed institution of the Administratum was filled with the mulled rush of many staunchly robed bureaucrats, adepts whom endless shuffle of paperwork fuelled the very lifeblood of the Imperium. From the spiky balcony which overlooked the cavernous workspace Commissar Dante watched the thriving gush of busy people set within another day of busy paper pushing, the rushing tide of ciphers, moving with quick derisive movements to deliver the messages issued by their superiors, the slow almost pompous addle of Prefectus's, standing out from the mill of Ordinates and Scribes by the opulent robes that their position of power demanded. Shuffling along the corridors, he spotted menials whom with the best efforts seemed determined not to be a nuisance in any fashion. Dante glanced down at his watch, then back over the tide of workers that lay beneath him. Not quite time yet, but the mere thought of this meeting clenched an icy fist of terror within his gullet and he pushed it away, is leather gloved hand tightening upon the hilt of his chainsword. The sword was given to him over 10 years ago, a symbol of his dedication within the Imperial Guard. Sense then it had tasted the blood of the emperor’s enemies more than once, and it all at once seemed to ease him mind. For awhile he allowed himself to be amused by the mulled conversation below him, occasionally catching snatches, scolding over ill conceived filings, the brisk allotting of tasks, the listless chatter of Ciphers memorizing their messages. Dante finally turned on heel, the toes of his stiff uniform boots giving a satisfying click. It was time. Deeper within the bowels of this administrations depths he stooped low to move within a less trafficked off-shoot. He bowed formally before the Curator who had summoned him; an ageless man whose service to his Imperium seemed to be lifetime devotion. Here among the stone bleached walls, shelves upon shelves of data filed stiff binders, eons of information stored and recorded from the dawn of human existence, an endless record of history. Records of battles, of men and services, planets and alien races of which some have become buried amongst the shuffle of life they searched. Finally the curator...Guile, was that his name? Retrieved what he wanted, squinting within the dim light at the file before him. "I have found what you wish for Commissar Dante....the Administratum of course, is perhaps the largest arm of the Imperium. We have a great deal of many issues we handle, among them tracking aliens." He continued, thumbing through the leaflets of text upon text, wetting his thumb thoughtfully "of course, as you know Orks are extremely nomadic and it is rare that a band of them would ever stay in one place long. As you can guess, this makes it very hard to keep tabs on any specific war band, though this administration has been known to file records on those we find particularly dangerous." Dante shuffled uneasily upon the worn marble floor, the stuffiness of the narrow hall agitating him. Oh, to be among his regiment, perhaps relocated to a world plagued by alien assaults, to drive off marauding Dark Eldar or any other band of aliens whose presence within the galaxy seemed to gnaw away at the fringes of the Emperors great empire... "I do not feel you should need to worry too much, master curator. The reports that have been recently tabulated are speculation only" he gave a derisive snort, feeling his own confidence rise with his words "I fear that we may be investigating a myth." The curator slowly raised his gaze until he looked straight within the Commissars eyes. Under elderly mans withering stare the tough imperial guard leader felt himself begin to shuffle like a fresh conscript. After a long uneasy minute the curator looked back down to the open file perched within his lap "I have found with I believe you are looking for Commissar Dante...in the age of 40,231 the supply planet known as Indogain, a routine supply stop by one of our Thunderhawks found that the planet had been razed to the ground. Man, women and child had been slaughtered indiscriminately, and the colonies shelled to rubble" He turned the page, then after a moment he closed the file. He took in a slow, deep breath which seemed to rattle his frail aged body before turning to the commissar "I have no reason to read further...for many years I have stockpiled information, records and dates for the Imperium, and always I have reverently followed these reports. Across the blackness of the galaxy a fiery line of fire has been scourged across planets, purging them of all manner of life. The planets are left in ruin, the invaders gaining nothing but the strength to carry on to more bloodshed, more conquest. On every world the remains tell a tale of horrible slaughter and wonton bloodshed, mountains of human skulls piled towards the sky, trails of corpses left in the wake of conquest green hordes. From the few scraps of information that I have hoarded I have come up for a name for this Demonic greenskin who carved a path of death through the Imperiums grace: Olluk the Scourge, a Warboss of cruel disposition and insatiable bloodlust" He shook his head, raising himself upon his hobbled legs, he shuffled away to replace the file. Just before turning out of view he paused, calling out "and you, Commissar, dare to doubt the existence of this monster? What a foolish man you are, to be certain" | |
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