The Chronicles of Tuco, Part 5:

Tuco and the Legend of Anno Dignitas

I’m sure you’ve all heard tell of the legend of Anno Dignitas. Yes, you know the one, that ancient realm of untold riches hidden away amongst the stars. That mythical kingdom so wealthy that their priest-rulers were able to construct great temples made from solid gold from which to worship the God Emperor. A fantastically prosperous colony lost to the Imperium of Man for many centuries. It warms the cockles of your heart to think of those tales of fabulous treasure hordes, millions of glittering gold coins, just waiting to be plucked from the cold void by a man with the wits and the nerve to discover them. Well my friends, old Tuco has a cautionary tale for you; ‘all that glitters is not gold’.

It all started back on Shard. We’d quelled the civil unrest that had recently been fermenting there through a mixture of extreme violence and straight forward bribery. Recipients of the former were nursing their wounds and mourning their dead and the latter counting their blessings. Things were quiet enough and young Varrick had decided to lead up a delegation to re-establish some of our old trading routes. Of course I suggested that I accompany him but after my recent foray into the world of diplomacy Darius thought it would be better if I, ‘remained behind, ever vigilant towards the threat of further dissent!’ Anyway, soon after he left our spymaster, Solar Gillam, came to me with the disturbing news that someone had spent the last several nights trying to gain unauthorised access to some of our most important water reservoirs including the palace’s own supply. Personally, I don’t have that much use for water. You’d certainly never catch me drinking the stuff and I very rarely take the opportunity to bathe in it. However, I know the others would kick up a fuss if the palace taps ran dry, so we set a trap for our would be saboteur.

Sure enough he tried again and we put the cuffs on him. I thought he was probably some bitter nut job that we’d missed when we were conducting mopping up operations against the rebel faction that we’d just stamped out. You know the kind of guy, some sad ‘you’ve killed my entire family, so I’ll have to poison you all’ type. Easy to spot, easy to shoot, a lesson to others, job done. However, he turned out to be nothing of the sort, which is where things started to get interesting. Gillam instantly recognised him as being one of the scouts that Varrick had sent out to survey neighbouring systems for potential resources, trading opportunities and the like. His name was Nestor and as far as we knew, this guy, his ship (the Baleful Eye) and the rest of his crew were still off-world digging around for loot. We also found out that he’d been changed somehow. Physically, his skin was tainted with a strange green pigment, invisible to the naked eye but which our tech boys had picked up when they began their side of his interrogation. They weren’t sure exactly what it was, or what it meant, but he’d certainly not had it done in a local tattoo parlour. Our resident head shrinkers then went to work with their box of telepathic tricks. All their usual mind flaying techniques had almost no effect. The only information they could glean was the word Argarok and the image of a strange, hideous mask floating in the sky. This was on the few occasions they came even close to penetrating his mind. To cap it all off, he’d been carrying some unusual melon like fruits with him when we’d arrested him. He let on to us that he’d intended to ‘infest’ the reservoirs with them. As I said to Gillam, ‘how does that old poem go?’

‘We must not look at goblin men, we must not buy their fruits: Who knows upon what soil they fed their hungry thirsty roots?’ 

Well, to my mind my friends this spells only one of two things: chaos or the evil xenos taint. Either way we needed to stamp it out quickly before anymore of these green-skinned freaks could attempt an attack that might be more successful. The system that this scout had been sent to investigate was known as ‘the Wyrding’. It had a bad reputation amongst freighter crews for unexplained events and disappearances. Then again, where in the Koronus expanse doesn’t have a reputation like that? A security patrol sent word that they’d uncovered a drop pod from the Baleful Eye that we needed to see. When we got out there we saw more evidence of the strange flora that Nestor had been attempting to poison the water supply with. There was an entire tree growing inside the pod complete with vines and creepers spreading throughout the vessel. It was like a god damned jungle in there! I’ve heard of spacers taking pot plants aboard ship to make things seem a little more homely but even a Catachan wouldn’t go this far! We decided we’d need to go to the Wyrding ourselves to find out what was going on. My old business acquaintance the Warder was in system so we hired out his ship, the Red Ruin, to take us there. On the way to the Wyrding we decided to call in at a space station belonging to the holy Ordo Sepulturum, called Adventis Sepultura; inquisitors interested in bio weapons research and the spread of diseases. As we were dealing with some plant-based life form with infectious spores we thought they might have some useful information they could share.

The Warp treated us well on leaving Shard and were soon docking with Adventis Sepultura’s Aquilar station. The leader of the order, a man called Infinius Shae, received us and while he wasn’t immediately aware of anything that might be useful to us, he did grant us access to the station’s extensive archives. As I’ve said many times before my old friends, I’m not the Empire’s greatest reader, however Gillam and the Warder had some ideas of what to get the station’s scribes digging out. Sure enough they came up with some useful information. This is when we made the first link to the legendary colony of Anno Dignitas. Some ancient text or other alluded to the mighty Drusian adherent who founded the colony in his own name encountering a form of plant life like the ones we had seen. In illustrations of him he can be seen sitting at the base of a tree very much like the one we saw in the pod. I must admit my exact recollection of what was said next does get a little hazy here, as I was totally overwhelmed for some time by the tidal wave of pure greed that broke over me. Anno Dignitas! If the stories of its wealth were even half true we’d have more money than we could spend in a dozen lifetimes! We’d live like kings! Before we left the station we decided to visit Shae again. He’d shown us a Kroot slave he’d captured who seemed to react when we mentioned the word Argarok. We realised that there might be a connection between Anno Dignitas and a sister planet to the Kroot home world, Pech, which had been lost to them for centuries. Perhaps this Argarok and Anno Dignitas were one and the same place? We thought it useful to take him along with us and with some negotiation gained Shae’s consent.

We arrived in the Wyrding and saw for the first time a strange celestial phenomenon known as the Mask of Iscariot. This was clearly the hideous mask in the sky that Nestor had been talking about. We knew now that we were on the right track. Searching the system we found two points of interest. The first was a pair of ancient warp gates. Kluck, our Kroot mercenary, was very animated about these claiming that their homeworld Argarok had both been revealed to them and taken away from them by warpgate phenomenon. Secondly, we found a jungle moon that might host the life form we’d encountered on Shard. I’m telling you that sweet smell of money seemed to be getting stronger with each intake of breath! We were just about to make planet fall when the Warder relayed to us that a distress call had been received from the Aquilar station. I’ve always said that the Emperor helps those that help themselves and we should carry on with our own work of finding Anno Dignitas, nevertheless Gillam and the Warder felt we had to return, so our progress on grabbing the loot was thwarted for the moment. On returning to the station we could see that we were too late and the order had been overrun. We returned aboard to see if there was anything worth taking but alas all we found were some books from the library. Shae and a couple of others had also managed to save their own skins by hiding in priest holes, leaving their colleagues to be butchered. As I say, the Emperor looks after those that help themselves. We found out that the raiders who turned the place over were a bunch of Rak’gol, a race of very bad tempered, very large reptile/insect creatures. I’ve fought a raiding party once before on a burnt out freighter near Port Wander. Not much to say about them save they have 8 limbs that can function as either arms or legs and that they greatly prize the taste of human flesh. Try not to get into hand to hand to hand combat with them or you’ll end up being an entree.

Having taken the survivors on board the Red Ruin we returned to the Wyrding only to find the Rak’gol had beat us to it and were busily firing drop pods into the orbit of the jungle moon. Well, that made Tuco’s heart miss a beat, let me tell you! The very thought that those eight legged freaks could snatch the money from right out under our noses is a chilling thought. I mean do those things even have a need for money? What could they spend it on? We had no chance of taking on their mother ship with the Red Ruin so we went in quietly with the gun cutter. We followed their raiding parties which were converging on the ancient hulk of a crashed star ship. Perhaps a treasure ship from the days of the Anno Dignitas?! Well old Tuco wasn’t about to let those bastards walk away with the dollar no matter how well armed they were (pardon the pun). Luckily for us though, they started bickering amongst themselves and a firefight broke out from which only the biggest and meanest one emerged. It climbed on to the hulk to be met by the rest of the human crew of the Baleful Eye. What was obviously strange was that it pretty much ignored them and disappeared in to a pool on the top of the hulk. We followed it up and ran into the crew also. They were clearly in the thrall of the plant organism and tried to infect us. We were having none of this and pretty much started shooting from the outset. No goblin fruits for us! This set off a defensive reaction on the plant’s part by it growing warriors from pods to attack us. Soon we were facing both human and Rak’gol opponents attacking like a pack of zombies. At this point Gillam and I had a difference of opinion on tactics. He thought it best to gun it out with the zombies on the skin of the hulk. Personally Tuco has always fought smarter rather than harder. Hell, we could be up here all day wasting ammo on the things! You want to kill a snake you cut off its head! My old grandmother taught me that back on Luther McIntyre. And she’d killed more snakes than a mongoose! Anyway I followed the route of the Rak’gol and entered the hull. I found some weird alien plant, blob head honcho that I proceeded to try and kill. I’d brought some anti plant grenades for that specific purpose. What did I say about fighting smarter not harder! Unfortunately, I didn’t bring enough, so I had to make a tactical withdrawal until Gillam turned up with enough anti plant bombs to finish the job.

Well, my friends, now I hear you saying another cliff-hanger Tuco but you must have made a fortune. What was that hulk carrying, rubies as big as a man’s fist? Emeralds like pigeon eggs? Archeotech weapons worth a king’s ransom on the open market? Not a penny my friends. Just an empty burnt out hulk. So, basically all we made on this job was whatever we can make on those lousy books we grabbed off the station. My confidence in a big payout is low I have to tell you. Where in the Emporer’s name is the Dignitas loot?!?!  To make matters worse when we got out of the hulk again we found that the Red Ruin was engaged in a stand up fight with the Rak’gol mother ship and we were in very severe danger of losing our ride out of there. However, the cavalry arrived in the form of a gigantic human battleship armed with a nova cannon that built the Rak’gol a whole new life in Hell. To begin with, we thought it was an Imperial navy ship drawn by the distress call from the Aquilar station. Surely a vessel of that size and capability couldn’t belong to anyone else? However, our saviour introduced himself as a Rogue Trader known as Helmut Vandire. He said that he not only owned this system but Varrick’s also. That’ll no doubt please young Darius when he hears about it. Me? I’m hoping to move into the fruit and veg business. Surely something on this godforsaken rock must be worth something?

The Chronicles of Tuco, Part 4:

Tuco tries his hand at politics

You know, it never ceases to amaze me how true that old saying is about dogs wanting to bite the hands of those that feed them. Well, let me tell you my friends, any dog that tries to bite old Tuco’s hand will find itself chewing on the wrong end of a bolt pistol! We’ve been experiencing a few, temporary difficulties with some of the local populace on Shard since I last penned these journals. However, I think I can safely say that normal service has now been resumed. It all started when the ruling council tried to have a meeting without inviting young Varrick along. He’d got word of this through his spy master, Solar Gillam. As you know, I’ve never been one for subtleties. Personally, I find that you can obtain pretty much any information you want by beating the particular informant until they sing like a bird. Shooting them in the knee caps until they tell you what you want to know, that’s a good one too. However, I’m aware a good spy can sometimes be well worth his share of the loot. There are occasions when you’re just not sure who you need to beat the truth out of and that’s where they can come in real handy. Anyways, so Darius suggests Gillam and I go along to this meeting to see what they are up to and to represent his interests. Young Varrick says I shouldn’t go armed, so as not to upset any of them. That being the case, I just take the one fragmentation grenade. I’ve never counted a grenade as actually being ‘armament’ in the purely technical sense of the word. They are basically for self defence, after all, and I can’t believe anyone would want to deny you the right to self protection in these uncertain times.

Just as we were about to leave with our chief grease monkey and one of the ship’s headshrinkers in tow, when who should make an entrance but an old business acquaintance of mine, the Right Reverend Rook. I haven’t seen that young rascal since we pulled off a gun running scam on Athonos! We were selling rifles to both sides in one of their almost unending civil wars. Nasty business as I remember, several hundred thousand dead, millions more turned into homeless refugees. Still, I’ve always said that a man should have the right to defend his most deeply held beliefs by shooting those that hold contradictory views, and I would certainly defend my right to turn a profit on providing him with the necessary firepower to do just that. As things went we made a very tidy sum out of that job I can tell you. Rook was a respected priest back in those days, which comes in useful when your true calling is as of a merchant of death. If you can’t trust a man of the cloth to sell you a decent las rifle, who can you trust? Also, he’s got the gift of the gab when it comes to rabble rousing, so he could always get the punters fired up and ready to spend by telling them what a bunch of godless heathens the other lot were. A veritable licence to print money! Unfortunately, both the locals and the Ecclesiarchy finally got wind of what we were up to and we had to make a pretty sharp exit off world. Sad to say though, our shuttle made orbit without him. I tell you my friends, you’ve got to be fleet of foot in our game and wearing a monk’s habit can slow you down a great deal. The last I’d heard of him, they’d caught up with old Rooky, had him publicly defrocked and then strung him up from the nearest lamp post. Must admit I’m surprised he’s still with us travelling along this mortal coil and even more surprised he’s still wearing the robes and peddling the Word of the Lord but there you go, he always was the smooth talker. He’s already approached me about picking up where we left off on the gun running gig, so some things never change. I said I was certainly in if the money was right.

Right, so as I was saying, we made our way to this council meeting to see what all the fuss was about and why they hadn’t invited Darius. I tell you my friends; old Tuco knows a nest of slippery vipers when he sees one and those slithering bastards would have put a Catachan jungle to shame! They were moaning and bellyaching about Varrick’s return and how much more power and money they should have on account of the recent turn of events and the defeat of the Whisperers! Well! I mean look at it like this. Before we came out of the Warp to save their raggedy asses, they didn’t have a pot to piss in or a window to throw it out of. They were wallowing in their own filth and misery, starving and waiting to be enslaved by the taint of chaos! Did they have a single idea about how to overcome their plight? No! Were they weeping with joy and begging to be saved from certain damnation when we stepped off of the gun cutters? Yes! And now that we’ve defeated the Whisperer and liberated the system, they’ve dusted off their flea ridden fur coats, tired old powdered wigs and fake jewellery and are strutting around demanding their blue bloodied, noble born rights. I told them as much and quietly placed the frag grenade on the meeting table to remind them of the reality of the situation. I never been a great student of politics but I felt this was a persuasive argument. Darius did after all, ask me to represent his interests. To be honest, if I’d have had my way I’d have pulled the pin and left the whole lot of them in the room to reflect on their arrogance and treachery. Start again from scratch, that’s my view. Get some new blood to represent the people. Well, there was a lot of flapping about and wringing of hands before young Darius came down to try and sort the mess out himself. I wasn’t really listening to the details of what he said, that diplomacy stuff goes right over my head, but from what I did pick up he made some kind of compromise offer about having some meetings with them to discuss the situation further. When the bellyacher in chief said that wasn’t good enough and started banging his fake jewellery toy stick around on the ground to conclude the meeting, the boss asked me to step in restore some order to the proceedings. Speaker Tal was well into his seventies, so he probably didn’t think I’d hit him. Actually, I was quite prepared to give him a good kicking too but was asked to go easy on the old guy because of his heart condition. I gave young Varrick the toy stick and everything seemed to calm down. Politics? It’s child’s play if you are a people person like Tuco Ramirez!

After my first, very successful foray into the world of politics young Darius said I might concentrate on solving a series of murders that had been taking place on planet and had recently spread to The Vengeance. Apparently, people had been having their brains eaten and their bodily fluids sucked dry by some disgusting alien parasite that was then assuming their shape and character. Nathanius (one of the blind headshrinkers) had been studying it in some book or other and thought that it was something called a Simulacra. Honestly what do these people read?! And how if he’s meant to be blind?! That young chap should get out more. Well, we went up to the Vengeance and started a search. My first thoughts were to flood sections of the ship with deadly nerve gas, or perhaps to vac them instead as it might be more cost effective. As the beast was hiding in human form though it might have led to quite a few ‘incidences of collateral damage’ so we discounted that approach. Nathanius told us psykers could detect them though, so we put him and Lazarus on the case to track it down. It was remarkably easy in the end. The thing was playing cards down on the lower decks as bold as brass! Now there was some talk of us going down there with non lethal weaponry and trying to take it alive. Well, as my readers know, I’m a very reasonable man but I can’t see any earthly reason why you’d want to take a brain eating shape changer alive, so it can eat your brain and assume your shape. Therefore I did the eminently sensible thing and shot it dead on sight.

By the time we got back to the surface Darius had sorted out the political issues. Speaker Tal was back on speaking terms with us after his thrashing and had been given a payoff to support the regime which we’d financed by wiping out one of the other noble families and giving him their lands and wealth. Unfortunately, we had another minor outbreak of chaos in the process as the noble family that was unseated had been nurturing unlicensed psykers. If there’s one thing Tuco advises it’s to kill those unlicensed headshrinker bastards as soon as you find them! I’m right behind the Emperor on that score! You just have to take the agri world of Gheistos to see sense in that calm and reasonable approach. One minute everyone’s getting on minding their own businesses, the next minute because of some crazy, unlicensed headshrinker kid, the whole planet end’s up with a Papa Nurgle infestation and pretty much every member of the population is walking around with the black pox. We were lucky this time just 600 dead and several sections of the Hive spires destroyed. Still, that’s politics for you. Sometimes you have to crack a few eggs to make an omelette.

The Chronicles of Tuco Part 3:

Tuco in the Land of the Dead

Have you ever seen the dead walk? Seen them come to life and stalk the earth looking for victims to drag back to Hell? No, neither has Tuco Ramírez and trust me my friends he has no intention of doing so anytime soon! However, on my last job I came as close as any man can do to such horrors and remain alive to tell the tale. ‘How did it all go down Tuco?’ I hear you ask. Well, let me tell you.

I was kicking my heels on Shard, overseeing the training of the newly formed Palace guard. We’d just liberated the Varrick system from the evil influence of the Whisperer and its tainted minions, so were rebuilding planetary defences. Tuco finds that those inevitable lulls between the intense excitement of a pitched battle can wear a man’s spirit down. Organising duty rosters, setting up drill schedules and developing training regimen can only keep you occupied for so long. Anyway, an old associate of mine, a tramp steamer captain known as the Warder, came to pay me a visit with a money making proposition that piqued my interest. Over a glass or two of the good stuff he told me that he’d been involved in what’s known as the ‘cold trade’ since I’d seen him last. What’s more, he was on the verge of uncovering a large cache of ancient artefacts that would bring a very pretty penny on the open market. All he needed was a little help from his old compañero Tuco to realise the potential profits. Easy work, rich pickings. Sound too good to be true? Surely, there’s no such thing as an easy buck? Tell it to Tuco my friends, tell it to Tuco!

The Warder had engaged the services of a spy, or a trusted advisor as he liked to called him. I’ve never been one for fancy language and half truths. A thief’s a thief, a whore’s a whore and a spy is certainly a spy. Simple, there’s no room for confusion. Still, the Warder’s paying the bills so I suppose he can call him what he wants. Anyways, this spy, Paldron’s his name, gets himself taken by a group of slavers working out of Footfall and not just any old slavers mind you, but the dreaded Tutors. They do things to men Tuco can’t even pronounce! Well, a man gets himself taken by that bunch of space scum, he ain’t got no one to blame but his self. It’s has own damn fault and he should learn to live with the consequences. The Warder says though that he knows where this stash is buried and if we want to see a red cent of it, we better spring him double quick time as those Tutors have a habit of mind wiping new stock they are going to pass on for sale.

Well, it’s a tough gig and no mistake! Turns out they’ve got him holed up in their fortress on Footfall, a place called the Red Schola. No one that’s ever gone in there uninvited has managed to get back out alive. Seems, in addition to the regular guns, guards and gates, they’ve got some kind of fancy mind traps that’ll paralyse any poor fool unlucky enough to clap eyes on them. Ha! As you know Tuco’s never been much of the cerebral type, so he reckons that gives him a real edge over these slick bastards! OK, so I takes the job on. Now, we know we can’t just go in there blasting, the place is too big and there’s just too many of em. We’ve got to use some smarts on this one, but not enough smarts to get us trapped! We heard tell that some of the Tutors took time out from selling slaves to spin the wheels at a couple of gambling dens on the station. We also heard that the brother of some guy crazy enough to try and rob the Schola might be able to give us some inside skinny. He’d played the lookout while his brother tried to turn the place over. No one had ever seen the brother again but this kid had been taken by the Tutors and was regularly paraded around town on a leash to put the frighteners on anyone else who might come up with a bright idea. It was a starting point.

Old Tuco’s not one for overly fancy plans, so when he finally came across one of the Tutors carousing in a gambling den, well, he thought it was time to teach that man a lesson so to speak. Of course he was travelling with a minder but there’s no minder ever been hired that can put the brakes on Tuco when he’s got a head of steam built up. Needless to say, one grisly set of shootings and severe beatings later, the survivors were willing to tell us what we needed to know. Now my friends, this is where it gets a bit sneaky. This is where old Tuco employs a little of the aforementioned smarts. Why not sneak into the place pretending to be the Tutor and his minder? Of course it was a bit more complicated than that, however, with the aid of a bit of visual trickery and without giving too many trade secrets away, we actually made a decent fist of it. Never underestimate the power of greed my friends. The lure of a decent haul will always make the impossible seem a great deal more possible when push comes to shove. My only nagging doubt is that we busted back out of the place without introducing the leader of their gang to a hail of High explosive bolt shells. Never leave an enemy behind to regroup and take revenge. Still if this ‘Master’ knows what’s best for him, he’ll keep a good distance between himself and Tuco Ramirez!

Having sprung Paldron, we found that he’d been so badly tortured that he couldn’t even try to say his own name without breaking into hysterical fits of screaming. As much as I’m a compassionate and caring man, we needed to know where all that loot was before those slaver bastards made a try for it. After all, Paldron could have talked. The Warder said he was too much of a professional for that but who knows how far a man’s professional standards might slip when he’s having his mind fried on a red hot skillet! Anyways, I suggested we bring in a Psyker to burrow out what we needed before whatever he had was worthless to us. Sure enough we got the right intel. The crafty bastard had had the coordinates to the star system we wanted grafted into a sub dermal tattoo on the top of his head. Of course, we had to scalp him to get to the map but the Doc said it was very unlikely that the tutors had already discovered it given his level of hair growth. A real lion’s main thank the Emperor! Who’d be a spy eh!? Still, he’ll get his share like the rest of us. You sign up for a job, you make damn sure you finish it. Whatever it takes, that’s Tuco’s motto!

The map led us to Capula, a desert planet in the Egarian Dominion. They’ve not come across my radar before but the Warder told me that the Egarians were a long dead species. They’d left vast structures on a score of worlds but nothing of any value in a single one of them! Not a promising start I must admit. I was beginning to think we’d expended a lot of damn effort for no return when the ship’s augury detected a crashed shuttle on the surface. Perhaps a treasure ship? Perhaps the Tutors had got here before us but screwed the job up and left us a clear run? Hope springs eternal when there’s a haul involved. We went in to take a peek and old Tuco got the surprise of his life! No money to be found but an old comrade in arms from my days on Luther Mcintyre. I remember young Lukas when he was knee high to a sand spider, caught out in the open when the White Scar Marines came hunting for young recruits. Well, stone me if he isn’t eight feet tall now, pumped so full of chems and implants you’d hardly recognise him! His parents would’ve been so proud if they hadn’t been cut down with bolter fire when they tried to stop them taking him. I’ll tell you something though, he can’t half catch you unawares for a man of that size! No wonder those White Scars have a reputation for silent incursions!

Once we’d recognised each other and exchanged pleasantries, we all sat down around a camp fire, cracked open a flask and he brought us up to speed with the latest developments. Turns out he’d parted company with the Chapter a while back and started working on and off with a Throne Agent called Gorian Debarii. More off than on at that point, as the bastard had double crossed him and left him for dead here while he caught a ride to the next location on this treasure hunt. Little did Debarii know though that Lukas had some information that he wasn’t party to and he’d have a real tough time breaking into the vaults where the artefacts were without it. So, I offered him a decent share if he threw his lot in with us. After all, we death worlders should stick together shouldn’t we? If we don’t look after each other who will? He agreed and we returned to the Warder’s ship in the hope of catching up with Debarii before he struck the mother lode. Hell, that’s when things really started hotting up!

I know these Throne Agents have some juice but we soon found out that the ride he’d hitched was on a full blown cruiser. The Warder’s ship is little more than a rusty old tramp steamer, so that made a stand up fight out of the question. Time for more smarts. Tuco’s never been a great thinker but when there’s gold on the line he’s got animal cunning! We deliberately dropped out of warp outside of their sensor range to assess the situation as best we could from a healthy distance. We found out that the cruiser had already jumped again leaving a task force working at a dig site on the planet. As we snuck in closer, we were able to intercept their comms transmissions, so we knew they thought they were on to something. I tell you Tuco Ramirez can smell loot through the cold void of space my friends and I knew the moment of truth was at hand! We came in by shuttle on the dark side of the planet to avoid detection. As we approached the dig site overland we became aware of a massed flock of flying terrors many thousands strong… migrating to who knows where? Thank the Emperor they didn’t catch sight of us, as we were lightly armed and few in number. When we got to within striking distance of the excavation site we knew that a frontal assault wouldn’t be possible. The terrain was in their favour and they had strength of numbers. Stealth was the name of the game here. I don’t mind crawling through the dirt as long as I come up smelling of roses and nothing smells quite as sweet as a saddle bag full of money.

Lukas and I made the final trek to the dig site, well camouflaged and ever so silent. We had a slight scare with a tarantula gun pod but nothing a seasoned old hack like me can’t handle. We sneaked past the defenders to get into the complex that the excavation team had been working on. As Lukas had predicted, Debarii had jumped the gun ditching his partner too early, so he hadn’t been able to figure out how to open the complex’s vault doors and was having to cut his way in. They say patience is a virtue but not when you have a key and an alternative entrance, so we took the back door in leaving Debarii on the surface twiddling his thumbs. What a site when we got down there! I’ve heard of the Necrons from mercs that managed to get off Damnos before they took it. Never seen them up close until now though. Legions upon legions of them frozen in time, weapons still clutched to their chests! It was a tomb robber’s paradise my friends, but we knew that we had precious little time before our Throne Agent friend and his storm troopers joined us. Worse still, we both had a really bad feeling that our undead companions in those cavernous tombs weren’t going to remain dead for very much longer! We were careful not to stir them too quickly but we managed to get a nice cache of choice items before making a diplomatic exit. I’m afraid the last thing I heard was a cacophony of bolter and las fire, so I’m very much afraid that our poor friend Debarii has woken up a city full of sleeping, extremely grumpy Necrons, all armed to the teeth with xenostech weaponry. I do hope he made it out of there safely!

As for Tuco? Well, he’s back on Shard with a glass of whisky in his hand, some pesos in his pocket and a story to tell next time he’s in the cantina. And what about the land of the dead I hear you say? Well, I certainly wouldn’t recommend it as a holiday destination any time soon!

Pandemonium-9

Press Release on the Pandemonium-9 from the houses of Orthlack:

“Give ‘em the whole clip with the Pandemonium-9 light assault pistol, from House Orthlack!

The Pandemonium-9 is a revolution in small arms technology. Light enough to carry comfortably in civilian garb, the Pandemonium is perfect for bodyguard assignments or when you need a backup weapon with a little extra kick at no extra cost.

The streamlined design makes it a dream to use and the ammunition has been specially selected to reduce recoil, weight and muzzle flare for efficient operations – so you needn’t brace yourself before popping a heretic or gunning down recidivist scum.

Plus, fully-automatic fire options make it a great choice for sticky situations when one bullet just isn’t enough. The quality of this weapon will blow you – and your enemies – away!”

Footnote from Van der Teirzalt’s Arms and Armour of the Expanse, 3^rd Edition:

“... The Pandemonium-9 is a particularly old-fashioned model, out of production for centuries that has recently seen a resurgence in popularity in no small part due to the marketing efforts of its manufacturers, House Orthlack. Originally known as the “Jump-Pattern Secondary Soft Target Interdiction Device,” the noble manufacturers decided that snappier renaming was in order to boost sales.

And boost sales it did – endlessly popular amongst young gangers and terrified civilians alive, the Pandemonium-9 (often referred to in street parlance as a “Pan” or “Pannine”) offered a cheap means of acquiring a fully-automatic weapon to all but the most destitute. A handful of variations were made, including a “professional” model with higher-calibre ammunition and recoil bracers (the “Pandemonium-9 Hellfire”) and a semi-automatic version for sale on planets with stricter civilian weapons laws (the “Pandemonium-9 Sureshot”).

Regardless of its popularity, the Pandemonium-9 has not seen widespread military application due to the small clip capacity, short range, and (some would argue) overly lightweight design.”

Overheard in a Colossus gunshop:

“Man, you get those away from me. You come round here trying to flog Pans, for Throne’s sake?

Course you didn’t know they’re useless. No-one uses ‘em anymore, so I guess some fresh meat like yourself hasn’t heard of ‘em yet. What, you’ve got a press release? Oh-ho! Must be an antique. Give it here. Let me put my glasses on.

Hah! Streamlined design, yeah, that’s one way of putting it. Orthlack skipped on parts, see, jammed cheap autofire mechanisms into frames too small to take them. Didn’t bother weighing ‘em down, so they spray everywhere – and when they say “specially selected ammunition” they mean “specially selected any nine bullets we could fit in it.” Nine bullets! You tell me how long that’s going to last on full auto, especially when you can’t hit anyone with ‘em. Not very long, let me tell you.

Nah, I’m not interested, sorry pal. Only an idiot would buy a Pan these days.”

Rook, Missionary, in a gunshop just down the road a week later:

“Pandemonium-9, eh? What a great name. I’ll take it.”

The Chronicles of Tuco Part 2

Well my friends, where has old Tuco been since last we met? Heh heh, into the gates of Hell and back, that’s where! And at last with a pretty penny to show for it! The crew of the Vengance have been up to their midriffs wading through the blood of our enemies. Those that were corrupted by the Whisperer have paid dearly for their betrayal. We began with the liberation of Silence, a moon inhabited by artists employed by old man Varrick to proclaim the glory of the House. If there’s one group of people that Tuco doesn’t trust it’s artists. Well, artists and priests, they’re pretty much one and the same. Too lazy to work, too frightened to steal. If a man can’t earn a living through making something useful like a weapon of war, or through honest thievery, then he’s not of much use to his comrades is he? Paintings? Statues? Ha! Well, we soon showed them our appreciation of their art. They animated the statues they’d made to rise up and kill us. Clearly no stomach for a fight themselves. We left only rubble.

Once we’d returned Silence to a state worthy of its name we left for Cog, the system’s forge world with its colossal moving city. As readers of these chronicles well know, being men of peace we tried reasoning with the rebels first. As Tuco always says, be kind, for everyone you meet is fighting a hard battle. But sadly this was to no avail. They met our generous offer of unconditional surrender, fair trials and quick executions with vicious anti aircraft fire. Taking the ships in at this stage would have proved unwise, so we assaulted the city with drop pods. Not my favourite way to travel, that express elevator to Hell feeling that you get on the way in always disagrees with my delicate digestive processes (coping with a belly full of rot gut whisky, a couple of raw eggs and a dash of Tabasco), so old Tuco didn’t arrive in the best of moods. We brought a multi-melta along for the ride though, which went a long way to reviving my sagging spirits. I learned to use one of those fire breathing dragons fighting Orks in the Black Reach campaign. Of course, the marines took all the credit for that ‘glorious victory’, they always do. They couldn’t have pulled it off without walking over the corpses of lot of mercenaries when they first made planet fall though, let me tell you. We held the Ghospora Hives against Zanzag’s hordes for more than two months before those brave Boys in Blue arrived. No terminator armour or dreadnoughts to keep us out of harm’s way, just raw guts and the promise of a pay cheque if we made it through.

Anyway, I digress, where was I? Oh yes, multi-meltas. I tell you my friends, there’s nothing like the smell of burning rebels in the morning to warm the cockles of your heart. It smells like victory. We soon silenced the anti aircraft batteries, were able to bring in more reinforcements via shuttle craft and cleared a path to the city’s central control room. We found that the chief engineer had avoided the taint of corruption and was able to help us secure the rest of the complex. When I suggested shooting him in the back of the head, just to be on the safe side mind, young Darius gave me a stern warning. I tell you that boy is too trusting. One of these days his sense of ethics and fair play is going to get us into real trouble.

With Cog pacified we decided to retake the refining station orbiting the system’s gas giant, Installation 23. On the way there we got into a scrape with a group of angry void wasps. To be honest, I’ve never really thought of the Vengeance as anything other than a tramp steamer, like a hundred others I’ve bunked on. Let me tell you though my friends, this old bitch has teeth! Heh, heh, those void wasps were swotted double quick time! The tainted ones had moved the station to a new orbit but that didn’t stop us finding her soon enough. We had trouble boarding her and the Vengeance took a beating bringing us in but she’s got a thick hide as well as a mean attitude. Once on the station we made short work of isolating the majority of the crew in their habitation quarters. Thank the Emperor! There were a hundred thousand or more of the bastards and bolt pistol ammo doesn’t come cheap in these difficult times!

We encountered some serious resistance on the way to the central control room in the form of rebels with a heavy stubbers, assault rifles and shotguns. I did a job a while back for an old acquaintance and picked up a decent las pistol for my troubles. Well, Tuco’s quick draw of choice has always been a bolt pistol in the past (hard to those beat high explosive, armour piercing rounds) but I can certainly see the attraction of speed and accuracy when someone is sat behind an armoured shield blasting away at you with a heavy stubber. I burned that man’s eyes clean out of his head with my first shot. Say hello to my little friend! Mind you young Darius has a plasma pistol and those things certainly aren’t to be argued with.

We finally made it to the central control room to find some freakish mutation posing as old man Varrick. I thought the boy might lose his nerve under the strain of it but no, he cut that filthy creature down where it stood. That set the cat among the pigeons, let Tuco tell you! The loss of Installation 23 finally drew the beast from its pit to confront us. And what a beast! The monster was the size of a starship! A huge, writhing mass of tentacles and hatred bent on the subjugation and destruction of mankind. It came screaming out of the center of that gas giant with the intent of killing us all. However, it found Tuco waiting in command of a half dozen macro batteries. Its corpse is spread through half the system. Thank the Emperor; we’ve finally made some money off of this job! The death of the creature has allowed us to fully retake the system and begin to get the factories, refineries and dockyards running again. Money, money money! In the wake of the battle Darius also made me Chief Bosun on the Vengeance. I’ve never had it so good! Old Tuco might not die a penniless peon after all!

The Journal of Nathanius Scaurus, first entry

The dreams are back.

I realize that there are members of the Ecclesiarchy that would do all sorts of unscrupulous things for "evidence" such as this, however I feel that refraining from discussing this somewhere would be more dangerous for my stability.

It seems that every few weeks now, I'm having visions - or is it memories? - coming to me in my sleep. The things I see… If I had eyes, I might have clawed them out long ago. The subject of these dreams is never the same, sometimes it may be a crew member, an old memory of a previous mission, or some such triviality. My memories play out as I remember. Until they change.

This evening for example.  I was reflecting on a recent mission to reclaim one of the moons in our Lord Captain's system.  A factory of some sort used to operate on it before production ceased and the "Whisperers" began to infiltrate.

On our first attempt to land, the crew of the gun cutter consisted of me, the Lord Captain, and the Arch Militant (Note - I must discuss with the Captain the wisdom of having an intellectually and emotionally crippled bandit as the combat specialist) along with some minor ranking crew members.  Soon after entering the atmosphere (if you can call that corrosive murk atmosphere), we were reminded that we were not welcome by a battery of AA fire, which nearly took us to pieces. Luckily thanks to some clever piloting, we made it back to the ship in one piece, and Tuco and Lord Darius decided on a much more…..definitive approach.

Once the smoke had cleared and the crew had the factory mostly under control, it was my turn to find out why these Whisperers had been so adverse to our presence. 

We took a prisoner - Phlyzik I think it was - for me to interrogate.  Thankfully Lord Darius was there to keep Tuco on his leash, and allowed me time alone. 

For the most part, the interview went uneventfully.  Phlyzik wasn't being very forthcoming and was (rightly) scared witless.  It didn't take long before I had the chance to probe his mind for all its secrets.  

It is this that worries me of late. What was in the past, a useful tool, and one that I enjoyed honing, has more recently become something to look forward to.  When I peel back the layers in his mind and feel him silently scream, it triggers something, a memory of the Warp… 

This needs further research, but my theory is that the raw terror and hate that subjects project during the process in some way harmonizes (For lack of a better word) with the Warp. This would not be an issue, however due to my…experience… I find myself eagerly awaiting the next foray into someone's mind. 

It is here that my memories change. Instead of peeling Phlyzik's mind away to show me his innermost thoughts and fears, I actually push. From there, this…drone's mind shatters completely and he offers to do my bidding. It's so simple. I could do this almost without trying. I could have an army of Phlyziks, empty husks with which I could complete any end. My research, it could be taken to new heights, using never before attempted trials on puppets. I could overrun the Vengence, take it deep into the Warp, and stay there, in the torment and the ecstasy until I see fit to return. And more…

This all runs through my mind in mere seconds, before I wake with a start. But what I find most alarming about these visions, is my reaction to the realization that they are just dreams.

I am disappointed.

The Chronicles of Tuco Part 1

Some say I’m a violent man, a very violent man. I disagree. However, there are two kinds of people in this Galaxy my friends, those with a loaded pistol and those who better do what they’re damn well told! Well now, you can bet your last dollar that Tuco is a man that always carries a loaded pistol! I’ve spent many years eking out a living across the Koronus Expanse and you can trust your old friend Tuco, he’s had to learn a few hard lessons. I certainly know that a kind word and a gun will get you a lot further than just a kind word. Bank robber, pirate, gun runner, prize fighter, mercenary, bounty killer and body guard, I’ve been them all in my time. I’ve never killed a man unless I’ve had to but death is my business and I have to admit that business has been brisk. A man with talents like mine can always pay for a meal, a drink, a bed and a woman to warm it for me.       

I was born on Luther Mcintyre, a world so deadly that even the gods of chaos would want to travel in pairs when paying a visit. There were only two ways to get off that hell hole, either to become a bandit or a priest. My brother Pablo, he went in to the Adeptus Ministorum. He was always the studious one, the big reader. Where’s he now? Hell, I don’t know I haven’t seen him for twenty years. I bet he’s in line to be the next the Ecclesiarch or something. Just imagine that, Tuco Ramirez’s brother the Ecclesiarch! Heh heh, He always was a big reader. I bet he wouldn’t give an audience to Tuco though. No, too embarrassed to see his own brother now he’s got his new, fancy friends. Dirty Tuco with his guns and his scars and his outstanding arrest warrants. He became a priest because he was too much of a coward to do what I do! Tuco read books and pray to the Emperor for salvation? No way my friends! Books are for fools! When did a book ever save a man from a hail of bolt shells, or the embrace of a Tyranid? You want to survive? Want to make some money? Pick up a gun or a knife and carve out a future for yourself. The Emperor helps those that help themselves!

So where did old Tuco end up after a lifetime of killing and robbing and stealing? Serving aboard ‘The Vengeance’ a House Varrick ship as chief strong arm to young Darius Varrick, heir to what remains of that once proud dynasty. He’s impetuous and stubborn but he’s got guts and the Emperor knows, you need plenty of those in times like these. His father pulled my fat out of the fire on more occasions than I care to remember. Daddius Varrick, now there was a man!!! He played a mean hand at poker, drank enough whisky to knock out a mule and could still out fight any man I’ve ever met. Bar room brawls just aren’t the same without him around anymore. Tuco never forgets a debt so I look after his boy.  He’s not an easy one to keep out of trouble though.

Young Varrick is trying to revive his family’s fortune. At present we are liberating one of the systems lost to his house from the clutches of chaos worshippers. Let me tell you my friends Tuco’s done a lot of very bad things in his time and seen plenty more, so he’s not one to shy away from blood and gore. But if there’s one thing that turns his stomach it’s the work of chaos worshippers. Those madmen commit crimes so terrible even he feels sick when he sees their victims. A good, honest crook you can bargain with. A good, honest crook only kills people if they are preventing him from pulling off a job. Those freaks torture and kill for no good reason at all. You can’t negotiate a deal with them, or pay them off. You can’t reason with them. You just have to kill those crazy bastards before they kill you. It’s that simple. Tuco didn’t learn that from a book. He learnt that from a week spent aboard a Saynay slaughterhouse ship. I managed to make it out alive but the rest of my crewmates didn’t. I made those Saynay bastards pay for every man they took though. Those sick pigs will remember the name of Tuco Ramirez for a very long time to come. That he can promise you!

Anyways, as I was saying, we’re currently taking Varrick’s planets back, one nest of chaos worshipping scum at a time. I’ve told Darius we shouldn’t take any prisoners but He balks at the idea of killing everyone we find. I don’t. I suppose he stills feels a sense of responsibility to what were, after all, his father’s men. Hopefully, he won’t come to regret that decision. These ‘Whisperers’ as we now call them have been corrupted by the taint of the warp and are being driven by some greater, darker power. So far, it chooses to remain hidden from us. As we continue to interfere with its plans though, I know that this won’t remain the case for very much longer. Tuco fears no man, Ork or Eldar living, but demons from the warp? That’s a different matter! I‘ve seen their handiwork and have no intention of becoming another one of their countless victims. Old Tuco has a saying, ‘Courage, above all things, is the first quality of a warrior’. The second is a loaded bolt pistol...