T
he interior of an ornate chapel, dimly lit by candles flutters into view all around you upon the black stone walls of the sepulchre. Two dozen or so robed figures gather in the centre of the chapel. One draws back his hood to reveal a man with a thin face, narrow eyes, and an air of authority. He holds up a skull into which are set several rubies, emeralds, and diamonds. Brethren, he says. By this gathering is the Maledictor's Hand founded. Let there be no mistaking our purpose. We are all of the same mind, that the Calixis Sector is a pit of sin and depravity, and that it must be cleansed. Our task is to bring about a religious cataclysm, the fires of which shall burn this sectors corrupt and stagnant worlds, to be replaced with a fresh crop of believers under the rulership of the clergy we place in power. The thin-faced man holds up the skull and pours a trickle of something viscous and red from its eye sockets, which drips onto his lips. He hands the skull to the robed figure beside him, who drinks from it in the same way before passing it on. What is our next step, my lord? asks one of the robed figures closest to the commander.
V: Appendix
71
DeVayne's Evidence
Now we go on our separate ways, replies the leader. Seek out positions of influence in the Ecclesiarchy. I shall set my sights on the Deaconship of the Cathedral of Illumination. My ascension to the position of cardinal is already all but assured. We shall not meet in this way again, but by certain signs and code words I have distributed among you, members of the Maledictor's Hand shall know one another should our paths cross. To be specific, several of us shall ensure that our members are My brothers! cries one of the robed figures. We are discovered, we are no longer secure! Stop him! cries another. Seize him! The spy must be silenced, activate the arco-flaggellants, do not let him escape! Kill him! Tear out his eyes! The leader screams his debased commandment and for the briefest moment his face is painfully clear. Though younger and in better health, it is unmistakable. The man at the head of the Maledictors Hand is Arch-Cardinal Ignato, the unquestionable authority over the Ecclesiarchy within the Calixis Sector. Several of the figures turn in the direction of the vidcap recording the pict-file. The image shakes as if someone holding the vidcap moves suddenly. The viewpoint swings as the device is picked up and the person carrying it flees. The image is filled with static, then the images turn black and the file ends. The Black Sepulchre groans under the weight of ages and an acrid black smoke fills the air. It is clear that whatever stored this data is now lost and the Black Sepulchre ruined in the process. There can be no more witnesses to this atrocity and no proof of what transpired.
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