Gazetteer VIII
Nivalis
Shrine World of the Ecclesiarchy (Non-Compliant cit ref. Temple of the Saviour Emperor)
Prosperitas Sector
595.M41
Smoke drifted through the air of the Cathedral City of Nivalis fires burned in the Pilgrim camps, the screams of the nonbelievers, of the bootlickers who still clung to the faith in the cowed dogs of the Ecclesiarchy did not carry this far, but they were there they knew it.
Templar Roan did not revel in their suffering; the flame was a method of purifying them of their corruption by the false-Priesthood a method of correcting their souls for following the false teachings of the Arch-Heretic Thor. There was no pleasure to be taken in the death of those who believed in the God-Emperor - but where they refused to follow the True, there was little hope but to consign them to the flame, and pray that the God-Emperor would know his own.
Their power armour hissed as they ascended the stairs of the Great Temple towards the Archimandrites quarters; it had been venerable Crusader armour once, when they had been forced to hide their true faith but now the false icons of the Ecclesiarchy had been excised from it, and the marks of the Temple adorned the battlescarred plates instead.
They approached the doors to the Archimandrite’s chambers where two Chantry Guards of the Fidelis Templar stood watch; they watched Roan approach cautiously and carefully - no chances were being taken about the Archimandrite’s security - the Ecclesiarchy would send forces to claim his head, and as one of the True he had to be protected.
They had titled him ‘Heresiarch’ mocking the ambitions of the Temple to restore the correct power structure of the Imperium to the handles of the Temple and not this weak and pathetic ‘Ecclesiarchy’ that served the political needs of the nobility.
But Roan knew the Archimandrite was blessed, it was he who had led Roan and other Templars to the Archenemy-infested Space Hulk above Nivalis, it was he who had retrieved the bones of Saint Nafisa from those who wished to defile them. No Ecclesiastic lapdog had achieved that, not even the cursed enforcers of Thors will the Adepta Sororitas had done that, instead preferring to oppose the True.
“He has not emerged today, Templar…” one intoned, “I do not think you will get your audience today either.”
Roan nodded their head, “The Archimandrite must leave his contemplation, the Temple needs his guidance; I ask again as I have asked other days, you must allow me to disturb him.”
And as he had done every day before, the Chantry Guard who had spoken repeated the same response to their request, “The Archimandrite has requested to be disturbed by no authority higher than the God-Emperor himself, Templar - we will not let you pass.”
He knelt by the casket, his heavy robes discarded to the floor, his withered form bare save for a simple smock over the extensive bionics that allowed his old bones to function, Ignatius Grulge, Archimandrite of the Temple of the Saviour Emperor...Heresiarch to the Ecclesiarchy… prayed over the open casket. Open sores on his hands bled, the trickles of crimson running down his creased flesh at first after touching the bones of the Saint he had wondered if the interior of the casket was irradiated - that would have been an amusing if ignoble end, to survive in hiding for over a hundred years only to be slain by rad-poisoning from his unconscious desire to touch the bones of the Saint.
Nafisa had been no ally in life, a Soror he had been glad to be rid of in truth, her passing and the rise of the more immediately foolish Dinah had been the opening he had needed to manipulate the Canoness into aiding his rise in this Sector. But she had been gifted, and the blessings of the Emperor had been visible in her daily life.
What had scarred him lay on the floor beside the coffin, a shining polished storm shield inset with a crystalline Aquila that had glowed with a radiant light when they had first found it. The Rock of Prosperitas, it was called, a name for the shield and the crystal like it was dull now, since he had touched it and it had burned his hands.
He could hear the voices outside of the chamber: Roan had come to take him to see the petitioners again for the sixth day running; he admired their persistence. He was about to rise when the pain shot though his mind and his eyes were blinded by the light, the flickering golden colours - did he imagine those? The ‘storm’ - as he had taken to think of them - wracked his brain as he futilely attempted to cover his ears as the Voice pounded into his mind deafening, despite everything.
“I don’t understand, my Lord! Please! I wish to follow your direction! I...we...are your Sword that will bring down the Ivory Tower and restore your Imperium to the rule of the righteous. Please!” he cried out to nothing as the voice ripped though his mind… only this time was different. He listened, ignoring his suffering he listened, panting and sweating as the voice wracked his mind.
He listened… and heard what he needed to hear… before he collapsed panting onto all fours, his bionics whining in protest. A manic grin spread across his features as Archimandrite Ignatius Grulge heard the Voice of his God-Emperor… and he knew… what must be done.
“Templar, I must insist that you return tomorrow, there is nothing to be said that will permit you passage into the Archimandrites chambers, that is his will and he is of the True.”
Roan had been about to leave when the doors to the Archimandrites chambers opened to the outside, the withered form of the Leader of the Temple emerging adorned in robes of state, his eyes bright and shining with the fire of a far younger man than himself,
“My dearest Templar…” his smile was wide, “Come, come, take me to see the faithful, I will answer their prayers just as mine have been answered to.”
“I…” Roan was taken aback as the Cardinal swept past them and down the stairs, the Fidels Templar recovering and rushing after him to fall in as his personal protection detail, “My Lord, your prayers, you have had a sign, from the God-Emperor?”
“Better than that, Templar, I have heard His voice! I know His plan for us, I know that we have taken the righteous path…”
Roan was still processing this miracle when the Cardinal swept into the Audience chamber of the Great Temple, there some hundred or more Priests and Fidelis Militia clamoured for attention held back by a wall of Chantry Guard as Grulge took to the daise and waved his hands beneficiently to the assembled throng for silence, “Friends… friends, honoured devotees of the Temple… calm… I have kept you waiting but I shall attend to all your queries” he nodded to Roan, “let them approach.”
They looked at him, “My Lord, all of them but your security…”
“Let them approach, Roan,” Grulge smiled, “There are none here who will bring me harm…”
Roan watched as hundreds of petitioners filed before the Archimandrite, Grulge saw to everyone personally, though the small hoard of scribe-servitors behind him recorded the petitions for his later recall.
Grulge smiled as another Priest approached - this one he did not recognise, they had a face that could be anywhere, but still he treated them as any other permitting them to kiss his rings, before he glanced down and blinked slowly… where once a wizened priest was, skin sloughed and tightened around feminine features.
She had been found alone on a void station surrounded by the dead. They had taken her to Terra, shaped her, trained her within their Hidden Temples to be a killer. She had taken many names in her life, but only one was true… Callidus, her Temple, her calling.
At her wrist, a deadly blade sprung to life, glowing energy emerging from her gauntlet as she twisted the blade about and drove it for the apostate’s heart; she had studied his biology, knew the correct path though his augmetics to ensure she pierced that most vital organ.
The apostate smiled at her, serene… calm… her blade stopped, inches from his flesh the tip screeching against some unknown force. Impossible! No field in the Imperium could protect against a phase-blade... and yet… and yet bright light coalesced around the hand that at interposed itself between her blade aimed at him. He smiled, serene, and spoke,
“The God-Emperor has a task for me to complete, Assassin. I will not be your martyr yet…”
She dragged her blade back from his grasp as he moved to clasp it with his fingers. It left deep cuts but already she saw threads of light knitting his wounds back together. This was… unforeseen, unplanned for.
A complication - the mission was compromised, the target had foreseen her.
She pirouetted sweeping the legs of the Templar at the Apostate’s side, and vanishing into the crowd, taking another shape as she did.
Grulge watched the figure flee and vanish. Raising his hand to stay his personal guard, “No, let her go to her Masters, let her relay the miracle she has seen today, let them know that we are blessed by Him….”
Roan was too in shock to do anything, breathing out under their breath, “The Emperor Protects…”
Grulge’s cold blue eyes turned to them, “We will discuss the failings of the Chantry Guard to allow an assassin so close to me another time…” the Archimandrite growled low and beneath his breath, raising his voice as he turned to the petitioners, “Faithful! Heed me, that the Emperor Protects! He preserves me from the blades of those who would seek to deny the True their right to rule His Imperium!”
He paused and allowed them to murmur and recover from their shock before the first ecstatic cries ripped through the crowd at this miracle he had performed,the cry ‘The Emperor Protects’ chanted again and again.
Archimandrite Ignatius Grulge, Primate of Prosperitas, Guardian of the True Faith, Head of the Temple… simply smiled, and bathed in their ecstatic exclamations.
Gazetteer VII - The Heresiarch
Much has changed in the Prosperitas Sector since Cardinal-Emissiarius Grulge was stripped of his title and status within the Eccliesiarchy for his tyrannical rule and membership of a proscribed sect, the Temple of the Saviour Emperor. But some will say that his rivals moved too fast, and didn’t wait for their forces to be properly aligned before they moved against the Cardinal. With the forces of the Fidelis Militia (now openly operating as the Fidelis Templar) at his side, Ignaitus Grulge has abandoned all trappings of the Ecclesiarchy and chosen to openly demonstrate his faith as Archimandrite of the Temple.
The Ecclesiarchy and Ordo Hereticus however have a more derogatory title for him… Heresiarch, mocking his ambitions to be an alternative leader to the Ecclesiarch on Terra.
With the slaughter of those members of the Priesthood still loyal to the Ecclesiarchy at Agrial III, the Temple of the Saviour Emperor now controls both Shrineworlds of the Sector and the seminary of St. Sebastians Redoubt. They are the largest spiritual authority, and, while the Ordo Hereticus has finally been shaken out of its caution about confronting the Temple. It cannot be said that other Imperial institutions share their enthusiasm for purging the theocratic sect. Much to the frustration of the Holy Ordos the Imperial institutions of the Sector are focused solely upon the threat presented by the Archenemy, and are willing to deal with Grulge as an equal if it means that his forces protect the worlds of Subsector Secundus.
To make matters worse, the apparent demonstration of miraculous powers by the Heresiarch after his recovery of the bones of Saint Nafisa which had been taken by forces of the Archenemy along with her Storm Shield, the Rock of Prosperitas - has lent credence to his claim to have been guided in his path by the God-Emperor. Though the Temple is not so crass as to claim Grulge is a Living Saint yet, the words are never far off anyone's lips when discussing the miracles demonstrated by him. His survival of an attempt on his life by a Temple Assassin (welcome to being inducted to the higher ranks of the Inquisition you now know about these terrifying killers) has only aided the narrative the Temple wishes to forge.
Those loyal to the Ecclesiarchy rally on Gaudium and around the new Fortress-Monestary of the Order of His Sanguine Tears on Duroverum but some waver in their commitment in the face of these so-called miracles. Barring his miraculous survival the Heresiarch has demonstrated the abilities to heal the sick, and help the lame recover from crippling wounds.
The Ordo Hereticus is not so willing to believe such a ‘convenient’ intervention of the God-Emperor, as a Cardinal Grulge would have been tested extensively for psyker taint and has never demonstrated signs of spiritual corruption, either. Some believe that he may have used trickery and falsehoods to give the appearance of his gifts while others point out that Callum Gearwright was disbelieved for many years and yet seemingly verifiably demonstrated such powers.
We live in interesting times, it seems.
Wars of Purity
The Fidelis Templar are frightening in their fanatical willingness to commit atrocities in the name of the Temple of the Saviour Emperor. Prior to their destruction by loyal agents of the Imperium, Grulge had been maintaining stocks of chemical weapons intended to be unleashed on heretical forces such as the Ashen Cults and Red Hand with little care for the horrendous collateral damage they would have caused. Those denied, the Fidelis Templar have resorted to more traditional methods of the bullet and the flame to carry out their attacks.
Though the Fidelis Templar do target the forces of the Archenemy, they have turned their guns on members of the Ecclesiarchy, and have extensively targeted the newly arisen religious sect of the Gearwrights. They are much less tolerant towards Abhumans and Mutants, in turn - even being fanatical enough to attack Navis Nobilite enclaves where they have rampaged in their so-called 'purification' of territories now under the 'protection' of the Temple.
This has not always worked in their favour, for while poorly protected Abhuman slums make easy targets, an attempt by an Temple expedition to Shadowglow to ‘cow’ the Raivan population there in 595.M41 has led to the first significant and humiliating defeat for the Temple. Landing on the desert world during the centenary 'Festival of Light' when the planet is granted a brief day of sunlight from its state of near-eternal eclipse, the Templars use the sunlight hours to breach the Raivan subterranean settlements armed with flamers to burn the native abhumans out of their homes.
But they find nothing.
The Raivans, well accustomed to being hunted on their home turf after years of occupation by Archenemy mining guilds, simply faded into hidden tunnels and other passages until darkfall on the festival world.
As the planet falls back into eclipse, the human eyes of the Templars no longer benefiting from blazing light from the holes blown in the roofs of the Raivan cavern-settlements. Vengeful Raivan fighters descend upon the intruders who have interrupted their festival. It takes less than a day for the Raivans to butcher the Templars down to a single soldier, who they send back - their hands cut off at the wrist - to deliver the message to the Heresiarch that the Raivans will not be cowed by the heretical Temple.