The adventures of Garret Yaridovich Corin-Adair Hoplitus Shakespear

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_* Editor’s Note: The following excerpts have been extracted from the data-stacks of a servo-skull, believed to be the servo-familiar of an unknown heretek. Despite the relative completeness of the extracted archives, all personal identifiers have been stripped at the time of capture, though obviously no such concern is shown for those around the subject. Owing to the content of these archives, particularly after the unknown author’s claimance of the Torestus they have been placed under a strict interdiction order and classified Heretica Extremis by both the Ecclesiarchical and Adeptus Mechanicus representives within my Ordo. *_

Table of Contents
Excerpt 1: The Summons

++++BEGIN DATA FILE EXCERPT++++
++++Personal vox-log of Magos ÜÂCþóf黨LîƒÃË­z»xAÍs“²[[CORRUPTION DETECTED]]++++
++++Thought for the Day: A moment of laxity spawns a lifetime of heresy.++++

Against my better judgement, I have accepted an invitation from the so-called Mendacious Oracle of the Temple of Lies; hardly the most becoming of titles, but his adjutant – a pleasant-faced woman given to manipulative flattery – assured me that the Temple held a large vault of lost Mechanicus lore, free for my perusal. If I can find but one scrap that can aid in my works…

[Loud clunking noises audible in the background.]

Pfah! Again! I can tolerate this no longer! I have told that bloated, maggot-ridden excuse for a captain for weeks that without the proper maintenance rites, the compression lines will collapse and rupture the atmospheric skein to the entire underdecks! This abominable lack must be rectified. Xerxes, pause log.

[++Interal chronometer shows 1,672,089 seconds between communications++]

Xerxes, file an objective. The captain of this vessel will die, by my hand if possible. He locked me – ME! – in the bilges, simply for showing him where he was maintaining his ship improperly! I apparently have been unshackled solely at the wishes of the Oracle, as we have arrived in orbit of Kymerus. The surface, and the Library, await me!

[[++Indeterminate interval between communications++]]

Carrion-corpse. An interesting name; clearly adhering to the combination of description and threat that seems to embody most names of Chaotic origin. As far as I’m concerned, it may also represent the dearth of worthwhile technical components available. I shall need to pursue other leads, I suspect. Anyway, the name! A warning that the rogue Astartes that have also flocked to the Oracle’s invitation should have listened to! Two of the three, which I had thought to be the most martially impressive amongst this group of wayward souls, tried to slay some great buffoon that was shouting in the streets and were quickly proven to be outmatched. An impressive display, nonetheless. Some ideas for combat servitors present themselves, best begun with [[Binary databurst received: 12.256 seconds total logged]]

The tech-priest Able, according to the fragmented tales he has shared with me, is a most unique creature. Brought back from the scrap-heap by little more than a techpriest’s idle tinkering, his rebuilt frame quite obviously strays from the archprints of any Mechanicus temple I have ever encountered. And yet… I feel whispers, a gentle tugging at the edge of my perception. Almost as if he would dare to overwrite the litanies that control my own augmetics! I must be sure before confronting him, but foremost I must be secure – I will suffer no tampering!

The others have shown little promise, yet. Another astartes, bears a staff and an ancient suit of ceramite and iron: not a pattern I am familiar with, and the man himself is nearly silent. The warp-witch and the scythe-wielding poxcarrier have displayed little talents of note, though the latter’s capering insistence on poisoning those who wronged those around him is an interesting trait…

Pause log, Xerxes. The time has come for us to depart to the Library!

[[Shutdown activated]]

[[. . .]]

[[. . .]]

[[. . .]]

[[++Automatic log criteria detected: Combat mode activated++]]

BLASTED UNDEAD INFANT CHERUBIM, I WILL END EVERY ONE OF YOU!

++++DATA FILE EXCERPT ENDS++++

Excerpt 2: The Library

++++BEGIN DATA FILE EXCERPT++++
++++Personal vox-log of Magos ÜÂCþóf黨LîƒÃË­z»xAÍs“²[[CORRUPTION DETECTED]]++++
++++Thought for the Day: To err is human. To correct is divine.++++
Say what you will of warp-witches and their nature, but these artisans of Tzeentch are truly masters of flesh-crafting. Following the… incident with the befouled cherubim on the way to the Library and my subsequently incurred injuries, they were able to heal myself and the others of this tattered coterie in bare minutes. I had to take particular care to have them heal only my weakened flesh, I had no interest in repairing what damage they might inflict on my far superior augmetics. Shortly after, each of us split apart throughout the maze-like structure of the Library; Able and myself to plumb the depths of the Mechanicus vaults. The Astartes all seemed rather enamoured with hunting for some treatise on daemons, though I took little interest in their purpose.

Days passed, and I was able to commit a wide portion of the library’s contents to memory, though I found myself correcting the mistakes inherent in each volume as I passed. Such sloppy workmanship from those I once revered! I could contentedly have spent months in the bowels of this once-ship, but finally the Oracle deigned to bring us to his presence; summoned to the highest room in the tallest tower, a chamber that appeared once to have been the Navigator’s Oculus, we came face to face with the Oracle Renkard Copax. Little more than a skeletal wreck, the opulence of his blue-and-gold robes seemed to serve as the only marker of his status. Wasting no time, he hurled questions at each of us, seemingly seeking to confirm our identities by having us answer questions of our darkened pasts, things which no other could know; an answer was cross-referenced with a small leather tome he clutched tightly in one hand – now far better off in my own, of course – after which he dismissed his young servant and began to laugh maniacally. Tricked and trapped!

[[++Data-burst received: Combat log parsed and transferred++]]
[Pict-display shows a semi-circular library, packed to the rafters with hundreds of books. The old seer moves as if turning a corner and disappears from view, while a crashing sounds is heard from above; field of view shifts, revealing a skylight above being shattered by las-bolts from library guardians, descending on ropes from screamer chariots. Several psykers also fall into the chamber, slowing their descent with telekinetic blasts.]
“Kill the psykers first, the guardians’ weapons are ancient and weak!”
[A firefight breaks out, with the Astartes pursuing close combat against the guards, while the others engage in ranged combat from the centre of the chamber, to a grievous toll. Recording shows a first-person perspective of the combat, which for the most part consists of hiding behind a desk and firing blindly at the oncoming guards The pict-feed loses connection for approximately 546 seconds, following the loss of the recording individual’s left arm.]
“I will say this for las-weapons, at least they cauterise the damned wound. Give me one of those glaives, we need to get out of here. No, not that way, it leads back up to the tower! For the love of gears, just let me lead…”
[Pict-feed shows twenty minutes of travel through the Library, until finally the group arrives at the central courtyard, where they encounter Copax engaged in discourse with a group of Astartes clad in the red-and-gold of the Word Bearers. The discussion ends negatively, with the Word Bearers opening fire on the horde of guards.]

++++DATA FILE EXCERPT ENDS++++
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The adventures of Garret Yaridovich Corin-Adair Hoplitus Shakespear

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