NAME: Athanasius Love
HOMEWORLD: Almata III: Arid, Sandy, scattered with the hulks of Imperial and xenos warships where they crashed centuries ago, infested with orks that the PDF can never quite manage to eradicate.
AGE: 44
GENDER: Male
APPEARANCE: A short, somewhat thickset man of pale complexion with a gaunt, pockmarked face. His eyes are a bright green, and his black hair is graying at the temples. Is practically never found without an lho-stick.
ROLE: Mortiurge. A gunslinger and assassin.
UNIFORM: In combat, wears a stripped-down version of the standard-issue arbites carapace armor, usually with a black trench coat. When not in combat, he usually wears a black jacket and a white collared shirt with no signification of rank. On infiltration missions he either wears his black civilian clothes or an arbites-issued black body glove, depending on the mission.
EXPERTISE: Murder.
Love is a skilled infiltrator, marksman and hand to hand combatant and- at least as he tells it- he is the quickest draw in the sub-sector.
EQUIPMENT:
- Primary weapon: Dual Handcannons
- Secondary weapon: Sniper Rifle, needler variant (pending mission type. uses heavier sniper weaponry when situation requires)
- Melee weapon: Combat knife
- Tertiary equipment:
Grappling hook and adhesive gloves for scaling walls, microbead comms, personal rebreather, dual silenced stub guns, and most notably, a psyber-raven who serves as Love's familiar and spotter.
The raven's name is Friendly.
- Mementos: A thin volume of poetry called the Canticles of the Gun and Blade, composed by a half-mad Death Cultist Caractacus Borgin, a member of the infamous Inquisitor Lord Ravenstein's entourage.
Catulo,
Sorry to hear you're stuck on Aphrodus. A disgusting hive-sink, by all accounts. I don't envy you- keeping a lid on that cesspool of heresy and crime. May the Emperor lend you all his ruthlessness and cunning.
I am writing because I heard from Brother Vandin that you might need the services of a Mortiurge. Don't listen to any of the doubters, Catulo, or the old timers who frown on employing assassins. Emperor knows, the arbites on Aphrodus need every tool they can use.
As it happens, I am acquainted with a Mortiurge who may prove most useful to you- Athanasius Love. A reliable man, as assassins go, with a flair for the dramatic in his executions. I employed him for some time during my posting on Dolcine, and he took care of headaches quite efficiently.
I can tell you- the willful and heterodox Governor became much more compliant with my mandates after Love turned up in his bedroom and explained that his next visit would involve a knife in the gubernatorial ribs. Likewise, the successive and increasingly grizzly deaths of rival bosses in the orbital docks reduced smuggling measurably during the course of my Magistracy. One trafficker was found in the void, lashed to the prow of his ship.
I have attached Love's file below for your review. I am leaving Dolcine on pilgrimage to the Hall of Judgement, and my successor disdains the use of assassins, so you are well advised to take Love on before some other Judge snatches him up. May he wreak as much havoc on your enemies as he has on my own.
In His Name,
Marvolo Borkas
Magistrate
Adeptus Arbites
Subject 20,117: Love, Athanasius
Designation: Mortiurge
Parentage: Love, Augusta and Love, Zoros.
Killed by xenos raiders on Almata III [see appended for planetary details]
Scholam Assessment:
Subject 20,117 assessed high intelligence/high sociopathy/low piety/low obedience/high self-reliance/high addictive personality/high linguistic competence/high creativity
Slated for Inquisitorial/Arbites service or execution for signs of deviancy.
Training regimen: Xo School hand-to-hand combat training, infiltration training, sniper and hand gun mastery sessions.
Training Results: PASS in all areas. Execution indefinitely deferred.
Addtl: interest in literature and history cultivated to 'humanize' subject for increased infiltration effectiveness among aristocratic castes & educated heretics.
Service Record:
Ophidian IV, Arbites Service [5 yrs, 2 mos]
St. Odo's World, Arbites Service [3 yrs]
[redacted], Inquisitorial Service [redacted]
Dolcine, Arbites Service [3 yrs]
Target Summary [see appended for details of deceased]
Rylo Kul, Smuggler Deceased, Gunshot to Head
Verona von Krangslin, Aristocrat, Heretic Deceased, Incinerated
Gaxz the Unfounded, serial murder, Heretic Deceased, Gunshot to Chest and Head
Prince Adolphus Stiglitz, Rogue Trader Deceased, Hung by Neck from Stateroom Chandelier
Arno Fowle, Heretic Deceased, Gunshot to Chest and Head
Gimnour van Fesselvingen, Heretic Deacon Deceased, Gunshot to Chest
Ava Pallansour, Aristocrat, Racketeer Deceased, Strangled
Merv Shuldin, Unsanctioned Narco Manufacturer Deceased, Poisoned
Foorad Vorhees, Heretic Pamphleteer Deceased, Fed Foot-First into Printing Press
Richtoff von Muldior, Planetary Governor Deceased, Knife Wound to Neck
Name Redacted, Crime Redacted Deceased [redacted]
Gallela Munch, Crime Boss Deceased, Eaten by crocodilians
Orpheo Malyn, IG Commissar, public intoxication Deceased, Gunshot to Head
PERSONALITY: Chilly, unflappable, aloof, Love is a quiet man with a soft voice and the air someone perpetually amused by some joke no one else has quite understood.
HOMEWORLD: Almata III: Arid, Sandy, scattered with the hulks of Imperial and xenos warships where they crashed centuries ago, infested with orks that the PDF can never quite manage to eradicate.
AGE: 44
GENDER: Male
APPEARANCE: A short, somewhat thickset man of pale complexion with a gaunt, pockmarked face. His eyes are a bright green, and his black hair is graying at the temples. Is practically never found without an lho-stick.
ROLE: Mortiurge. A gunslinger and assassin.
UNIFORM: In combat, wears a stripped-down version of the standard-issue arbites carapace armor, usually with a black trench coat. When not in combat, he usually wears a black jacket and a white collared shirt with no signification of rank. On infiltration missions he either wears his black civilian clothes or an arbites-issued black body glove, depending on the mission.
EXPERTISE: Murder.
Love is a skilled infiltrator, marksman and hand to hand combatant and- at least as he tells it- he is the quickest draw in the sub-sector.
EQUIPMENT:
- Primary weapon: Dual Handcannons
- Secondary weapon: Sniper Rifle, needler variant (pending mission type. uses heavier sniper weaponry when situation requires)
- Melee weapon: Combat knife
- Tertiary equipment:
Grappling hook and adhesive gloves for scaling walls, microbead comms, personal rebreather, dual silenced stub guns, and most notably, a psyber-raven who serves as Love's familiar and spotter.
The raven's name is Friendly.
- Mementos: A thin volume of poetry called the Canticles of the Gun and Blade, composed by a half-mad Death Cultist Caractacus Borgin, a member of the infamous Inquisitor Lord Ravenstein's entourage.
ARBITES DATANET
CAUTION: CYAN GRADE CLEARANCE REQUIRED
[kindly note: the prescribed penance for proceeding without clearance is arco-flagellation]
PASSWORD: *** **** ** ****
ACCEPTED
GENE-SCAN INITIATING
GENE-SCAN COMPLETE
PSYCHIC PATTERN SCAN INITIATING
-Stand By-
PSYCHIC PATTERN SCAN COMPLETE
SECONDARY PASSWORD: ***** ** ********
ACCEPTED
-Welcome, Judge-
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: Hatred guides our steps.
UNREAD MESSAGES: 2
MESSAGE 1
From: Borkas, Marvolo
CAUTION: CYAN GRADE CLEARANCE REQUIRED
[kindly note: the prescribed penance for proceeding without clearance is arco-flagellation]
PASSWORD: *** **** ** ****
ACCEPTED
GENE-SCAN INITIATING
GENE-SCAN COMPLETE
PSYCHIC PATTERN SCAN INITIATING
-Stand By-
PSYCHIC PATTERN SCAN COMPLETE
SECONDARY PASSWORD: ***** ** ********
ACCEPTED
-Welcome, Judge-
THOUGHT FOR THE DAY: Hatred guides our steps.
UNREAD MESSAGES: 2
MESSAGE 1
From: Borkas, Marvolo
Catulo,
Sorry to hear you're stuck on Aphrodus. A disgusting hive-sink, by all accounts. I don't envy you- keeping a lid on that cesspool of heresy and crime. May the Emperor lend you all his ruthlessness and cunning.
I am writing because I heard from Brother Vandin that you might need the services of a Mortiurge. Don't listen to any of the doubters, Catulo, or the old timers who frown on employing assassins. Emperor knows, the arbites on Aphrodus need every tool they can use.
As it happens, I am acquainted with a Mortiurge who may prove most useful to you- Athanasius Love. A reliable man, as assassins go, with a flair for the dramatic in his executions. I employed him for some time during my posting on Dolcine, and he took care of headaches quite efficiently.
I can tell you- the willful and heterodox Governor became much more compliant with my mandates after Love turned up in his bedroom and explained that his next visit would involve a knife in the gubernatorial ribs. Likewise, the successive and increasingly grizzly deaths of rival bosses in the orbital docks reduced smuggling measurably during the course of my Magistracy. One trafficker was found in the void, lashed to the prow of his ship.
I have attached Love's file below for your review. I am leaving Dolcine on pilgrimage to the Hall of Judgement, and my successor disdains the use of assassins, so you are well advised to take Love on before some other Judge snatches him up. May he wreak as much havoc on your enemies as he has on my own.
In His Name,
Marvolo Borkas
Magistrate
Adeptus Arbites
Subject 20,117: Love, Athanasius
Designation: Mortiurge
Parentage: Love, Augusta and Love, Zoros.
Killed by xenos raiders on Almata III [see appended for planetary details]
Scholam Assessment:
Subject 20,117 assessed high intelligence/high sociopathy/low piety/low obedience/high self-reliance/high addictive personality/high linguistic competence/high creativity
Slated for Inquisitorial/Arbites service or execution for signs of deviancy.
Training regimen: Xo School hand-to-hand combat training, infiltration training, sniper and hand gun mastery sessions.
Training Results: PASS in all areas. Execution indefinitely deferred.
Addtl: interest in literature and history cultivated to 'humanize' subject for increased infiltration effectiveness among aristocratic castes & educated heretics.
Service Record:
Ophidian IV, Arbites Service [5 yrs, 2 mos]
St. Odo's World, Arbites Service [3 yrs]
[redacted], Inquisitorial Service [redacted]
Dolcine, Arbites Service [3 yrs]
Target Summary [see appended for details of deceased]
Rylo Kul, Smuggler Deceased, Gunshot to Head
Verona von Krangslin, Aristocrat, Heretic Deceased, Incinerated
Gaxz the Unfounded, serial murder, Heretic Deceased, Gunshot to Chest and Head
Prince Adolphus Stiglitz, Rogue Trader Deceased, Hung by Neck from Stateroom Chandelier
Arno Fowle, Heretic Deceased, Gunshot to Chest and Head
Gimnour van Fesselvingen, Heretic Deacon Deceased, Gunshot to Chest
Ava Pallansour, Aristocrat, Racketeer Deceased, Strangled
Merv Shuldin, Unsanctioned Narco Manufacturer Deceased, Poisoned
Foorad Vorhees, Heretic Pamphleteer Deceased, Fed Foot-First into Printing Press
Richtoff von Muldior, Planetary Governor Deceased, Knife Wound to Neck
Name Redacted, Crime Redacted Deceased [redacted]
Gallela Munch, Crime Boss Deceased, Eaten by crocodilians
Orpheo Malyn, IG Commissar, public intoxication Deceased, Gunshot to Head
[CLICK FOR PAGE TWO OF DOCUMENT]
PERSONALITY: Chilly, unflappable, aloof, Love is a quiet man with a soft voice and the air someone perpetually amused by some joke no one else has quite understood.
"You must be Salazar," said the stranger, shutting the door to Father's study behind him. He had a low, soft voice that quivered slightly, as though he was very sad or very ill...but the stranger did not look like he was either of those things to Salazar.
He was a short man, pale, dressed in black suit and a silk green cravat that, Salazar noticed, matched his eyes.
Salazar clicked the safety back on the pistol. The stranger smiled.
"My dear boy," he said, "Never killed someone before, have you? But then, you're only twelve. This far up in the Hive, not many twelve years shed blood, I should think. Not like down in the underhives, in the darkness there."
"What have you done to Father?" asked Salazar. His voice shook but his grip on the gun was fairly steady. Barthol, the captain of Father's guard, had been taking him to level fourteen to practice shooting at the ranges for two years now.
Salazar wondered where Barthol was, or any of the other House Guards for that matter...didn't they patrol the halls during the nightcycle?
"Justice, Salazar, only justice," said the stranger in his odd, shaking voice. For someone with a gun pointed straight at him, he did not look in the least perturbed. He was still smiling faintly, and his head was cocked to one side as he looked at Salazar, who was reminded uncomfortably of the clawfoots that father kept in his menagerie, studying him through the bars of their cage, tongues running over their razor teeth.
"Justice?" said Salazar.
"Your father was...not a good man, Salazar," said the stranger, "and I expect you know that, which is why you haven't shot me. And why I think you will not."
"My father-"
"Is dead," said the stranger, taking a step towards Salazar, who stepped backwards, almost tripping over a chair. He steadied himself and kept the gun trained on the stranger, "I am not sorry for that, but I am sorry for your grief, and... for what comes next for you. You'll find it hard to believe while you're there, Salazar, but there are places in the galaxy worse than the Scholam. Far worse."
"Who are you?" whispered Salazar, as the stranger took another step closer.
"My name is Love," he said, "and I am who the Emperor sends when He wants to send a message."
The stranger's hand closed around Salazar's pistol and pulled it gently from his grasp.
"This is a beautiful gun," he said, studying the weapon.
"It- it's a family weapon. Father gave it to me when I turned ten."
The stranger squatted on his haunches, bringing his face level with Salazar's. The man's cheeks were hollow and pockmarked. Wrinkles nestled around his bright green eyes. He smelled of expensive tabac.
"Go to bed and sleep if you can. Tomorrow, they will take you into custody and the rest of your life will begin. Your father was a heretic, a worshiper of false spirits and a trader in illicit goods. When they ask you about him tomorrow, do not try and defend him, or your family."
Tears streamed silently down Salazar's cheeks.
"Cry now, my boy, but not tomorrow, and not ever again."
He was a short man, pale, dressed in black suit and a silk green cravat that, Salazar noticed, matched his eyes.
Salazar clicked the safety back on the pistol. The stranger smiled.
"My dear boy," he said, "Never killed someone before, have you? But then, you're only twelve. This far up in the Hive, not many twelve years shed blood, I should think. Not like down in the underhives, in the darkness there."
"What have you done to Father?" asked Salazar. His voice shook but his grip on the gun was fairly steady. Barthol, the captain of Father's guard, had been taking him to level fourteen to practice shooting at the ranges for two years now.
Salazar wondered where Barthol was, or any of the other House Guards for that matter...didn't they patrol the halls during the nightcycle?
"Justice, Salazar, only justice," said the stranger in his odd, shaking voice. For someone with a gun pointed straight at him, he did not look in the least perturbed. He was still smiling faintly, and his head was cocked to one side as he looked at Salazar, who was reminded uncomfortably of the clawfoots that father kept in his menagerie, studying him through the bars of their cage, tongues running over their razor teeth.
"Justice?" said Salazar.
"Your father was...not a good man, Salazar," said the stranger, "and I expect you know that, which is why you haven't shot me. And why I think you will not."
"My father-"
"Is dead," said the stranger, taking a step towards Salazar, who stepped backwards, almost tripping over a chair. He steadied himself and kept the gun trained on the stranger, "I am not sorry for that, but I am sorry for your grief, and... for what comes next for you. You'll find it hard to believe while you're there, Salazar, but there are places in the galaxy worse than the Scholam. Far worse."
"Who are you?" whispered Salazar, as the stranger took another step closer.
"My name is Love," he said, "and I am who the Emperor sends when He wants to send a message."
The stranger's hand closed around Salazar's pistol and pulled it gently from his grasp.
"This is a beautiful gun," he said, studying the weapon.
"It- it's a family weapon. Father gave it to me when I turned ten."
The stranger squatted on his haunches, bringing his face level with Salazar's. The man's cheeks were hollow and pockmarked. Wrinkles nestled around his bright green eyes. He smelled of expensive tabac.
"Go to bed and sleep if you can. Tomorrow, they will take you into custody and the rest of your life will begin. Your father was a heretic, a worshiper of false spirits and a trader in illicit goods. When they ask you about him tomorrow, do not try and defend him, or your family."
Tears streamed silently down Salazar's cheeks.
"Cry now, my boy, but not tomorrow, and not ever again."