The Rainwalkers

Gasping in the dark

This man is a scourge. A filthy, hedonistic and faithless baron. This much I know. But I must work towards a greater evil. He says that the inquisition is interfering with his illicit trade; and yet no Inquisitor sect is here.

Of the Emperors true faith, that is.

This information is troubling to me, as a rogue inquisitor sect is perhaps a greater abomination than the faithless to begin with. Ignorance and skepticism is nothing in the face of an intentional denial of what you know to be truth. This new collection of human explorers, these…“Rain Walkers”…have been assigned to this task beside me. I wonder, perhaps, if they are criminals as well. Or, maybe, the faithful gather to march on the impure? Only time will tell. There are a few competent fighters. A one armed thug, who may have been mighty with all his limbs He is a scoundrel to be sure, but capable nonetheless. A guardsman who, upon further inquiry, appears to be a woman. She is of steady hand and incredible valor. A large, deformed brutish man with seemingly little regard for himself or others. And an astropath of impressive resilience. Though i fear his mutation overtakes him.

Their rogue trader seems calculating and perhaps a bit frail. I will have to be wary of him, should our activities continue to intertwine; the wheel in his mind will always turn to gelt, this i know. The pilot seems somewhat fearful, although very quick. This must be good for flying, or else I can think of no other reason. Most impressively, this ship is warp capable and they have their own navigator. Curiously, this navigator is blind to the reality at our feet; perhaps this makes his sight all the more pure in the warp? I shudder to imagine its madness laid bare, and I hope this navigator can resist its taint.

So far we have battled the tainted inquisitor cell in the warehouse containing our benefactor’s product. We made decent work of their number, though once again I must question the combat prowess of some of these people. I suppose it is made up for by those of us with martial training. One of our foes had escaped, and so we chased him into the sewers, uncovering a hidden facility of some sort. The air is acrid with the stench of promethium and the filth of under dwellers.

They were purged at my hand, and we continued to the lower levels.

It is here I must admit a failure. In the upper level, we had found some form of sealed room, perhaps an armory. In the second layer, one of our group discovered a mechanism we believed would unlock the doors. A few of us returned to the room, waiting for the rest of our party to throw the release. This did not come, and I felt a great foreboding.

It was as such.

We returned to a crimson pool in place of a guardsman, and a wide eyed pilot behind a terrified psyker. We were able to revive our soldier, and were soon met with what can only be described as an abomination. Emaciated, black and grotesquely thin, they tore through the dark with shrieking claws. Their faces were pale with great voids gasping at foul air. Again they came, and again our guardsman was torn apart in another act of bravery, on the other side of a door I could not reach.

They were purged at my hand, and once again we revitalized our companion. Her bravery and fortitude astounds me, as not even beyond the hour she had donned a voidsuit, and went leaping across an open expanse of exposed space to allow us passage to what can only be assumed our final foe. She would make a fine instrument of the Emperor’s will. I finish writing this as we go to cross this corridor to meet our fate. I shall not fail in my service of our great father, and this rogue inquisitor shall fall at my hand.

They will be purged at my hand.

With great faith,
-Inaja Svetkoff

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