Black Crusade: The Screaming Vortex
In the flickering glow of promethium fueled lamps, in a shady part of a bar where dissatisfied laborers of a nameless Imperial world gathered, Markus started another one of his speeches. “I was blind.”, Markus would say, during one of his speeches on how he first saw the truth. He’d told the story often; in damp basements in a hive city, in shady bars and occasionally on the streets, depending on how openly rebellious the planet was. It became second nature to Markus, just like a Guardsman can recite the comforting lies on the Guardsman’s Uplifting Primer. Markus knew that incorporating a personal story into his speech would allow the listener to more easily identify with him and fully understand the truth of the universe. “I was blind, until I came upon that book and my eyes were opened.”, Markus said.
Markus was content in his previous life in the Ecclesiarchy. He felt he could mean something to the populace of the city surrounding his monastery. Every day, citizens would come to him to ask for guidance or comfort after losing a loved one in the Manufactorum. He had lived in the monastery since he could read, after his parents had sent him off to church to gain favor with the local Deacons.
However, eventually he began to see the flaws in the system, the malignant growths of sin. Laborers would toil long days in the Manufactoria, while the upper class nobles spent long hours discussing the latest import vintage Amasec. Gangs ruled the darker depths of the Hive, while the Arbites turned a blind eye in return for a sum of Imperial credits. But it was not because of these small cracks in the facade that he was illuminated.
It was a tiring day for Markus, and he walked in the corridor of the monastery to his small study room in a little used wing of the monastery complex, contemplating the nature of the Emperor’s protection. Walking past one of the rooms on the left side of the corridor, he noticed the door was open and he could see the room was empty, bar for a few books, half-burnt candles and quills and parchment on a desk. A mysterious man in robes had visited the monastery recently. The Deacon had told Marcus the robed stranger was an investigator of sorts and pressed him not to pry any further into his identity. Before Markus knew it, he had entered the room. One book in particular had drawn him inside, pulled him inside the chamber almost it seemed. Strange symbols adorned the pages, giving Markus a strange chill.
Markus suddenly woke up in darkness, realising he had studied the book, and other documents for hours on end, until he fell asleep and the candles burned out. Dizzy with forbidden knowledge and sudden panic at the thought he could be discovered in the room of this stranger “investigator” he quickly scrambled out of the room. As Markus would discover only much, much later, this stranger was a member of the Ordo Hereticus. When he entered the common hall, he met one of the attendants of the Deacon, who told him that mr. stranger had been robbed and murdered by a group of drugged up criminal underhive juvies.
The Inquisition was quick to react, enlisting help of the PDF and Adeptus Arbites to search that part of the city for the suspects. It was too late, much too late. Markus knew the truth now and he was sure no one would ever find out.
[Currently, after having studied all of the blasphemous texts and having practising his preaching on most of the planet(oid)s in his home solar system, Markus Vanger is ready to embark upon his holy voyage to spread the word of the only truth, the Primordial Truth and the destiny of mankind. Now if only he could find a ship with a crew willing to transport him outside the borders of this blasted solar system…]