Report:
“This place is rank with the foul stench of chaos” spat Albiorix. “I can assure you Justicar, there are NO Traitor Marines, Possessed Traitor Marines, Daemons, DaemonSpawn, Daemonkin, lost, damned or any other creature likewise cursed here.” Inquisitor Logos continued with a condescending tone: “The Virus Bombs the Inquisition dropped here 400 years ago were ritually inscribed with potent sigils inclement to their kind – both corporeal and ethereal. Nothing could have survived.” The Justicar turned gather his thoughts and to survey the situation. The city before him was a broken maze. The lack of “intelligent” life had left it crumbling in disuse. Season had passed to season a thousand times over and life slowly began creeping back over the planet’s surface: inch by inch. As the planet was slowly cleansed itself it had attracted the attentions of a simpler form of life. Something so primitive that it could survive even the virus ordinance weaponry of the Inquisition – Tyranids. But if that were the case – why dispatch Grey Knights? Certainly regular guard or a common space marine chapter would suffice if Orbital Bombardment was not effective in purging a Xenos incursion. It was like bringing a bolter to a chainsword fight. Albiorix breathed deep and reached out once again with his telepathic abilities ‐ yes, it was there…no matter what the data showed, he could feel it. The Inquisitor was either lying or mistaken, either way the Justicar had no way to call into question what the Inquisitor was positing without bringing the wrath or the suspicion of the Inquisition upon himself. Regardless, he had to ready his men for whatever task lay ahead of them – be it man, beast, or warp. After a time he faced the Inquisitor and narrowed his gaze: “Of your theories, Inquisitor, history will be the final judge. The emperor protects.”