Your Retinue

After 3 hours of relentless fucking, you drape your black leather coat over Anna's sleeping form. She lies, spread eagle, on your desk with your cum dripping out her holes and a fucked silly expression on her face. Quickly, you slip into plain black army fatigues and leave the chamber. As the airlock slides open, the faint green lighting of tech-stations reflect on your face, blinding you briefly. Blinking twice, you nod to the pair of Vostroyan Firstborn guardsmen standing sentry outside airlock, then move on with confident, wide steps.

When deployed with your task of vigilance along the Crusade's flank, the Martyr's Blood had been restocked and refueled at the Orbital Docks at Balhaut. The Oberon-Class Battleship had received an entire re-sanctification of its divine tech circuits and 2 fresh void fighter squadrons from the local Cult Mechanicus enclave. In Terms of Manpower, you and Anna had used the authority of your office (and some really large boxes of Amasec) to requisition the remainders of the 242. Vostroyan Firstborn. An expert regiment in regards to urban warfare, even for the harsh standards of their home-world, they had recently been deployed on the crusade's infamous second front under Lord Militant Cybon. Outflanked and isolated by Sons of Sek on some backwater Hive World, the Vostroyans nonetheless managed to break the enemy deadlock, taking 68.4 % Combat losses in the process, rendering the regiment combat incapable. The four hundred fifty-two remaining Vostroyans had been waiting for resupplies from their home world when you requisitioned them.

Iron hull plating throws back the clacking of your heavy army boots as you step down the corridor hosting your retinue's quarters. You find your field team in the corridor's mess hall idly chatting with each other (more or less). In the middle of the room sat Kiron at the steel cantina table with three ex-guardsmen. The group was playing cards and occasionally whooping when one of them scored or lost a winning hand. At the other side of the table, apart from the card players, sat Antoinette, musing over a data slate. 'Undoubtedly some poetry' you thought.

Severius was, as usual, standing in the corner; his visual optics glowing with threatening red light.

Kiron Ri'ven, your Interrogator, was lazy but reliable, blunt but sharp, a puritan but tolerable. He had been with your retinue for 3 years now, and (if you were being honest) fit in nicely. He mainly excelled in covert operations and relied on advanced Schola Progenium combat training and his Tallarn breeding. 'And on sheer luck' you quip to yourself. Kiron was a little reckless. The amount of hazardous 'gung-ho' missions he had undertaken as your Acolythe made him a pain in the ass. What made it worse was that Kiron was still there to be smug about it.

Tanja and Katja Baylist, along with heavy weapon specialist Hans Lock, were all ex-Armageddon Steel Legion. You had managed to requisition their squad for one of your undertakings and, after you had seen the trio hosing down a demon of Khorne with a las-gun barrage on full auto, had arranged their permanent transfer to your retinue.

Antoinette Bergerac was your personal surgeon. It was her who had saved your live on at least three different occasions. You had met her during the void battle for the Heimdal Space Fortress in 764M.42. When an orc torpedo vaporised the ships medicae bay, it had been up to Antoinette alone, a mere junior Surgeon at the time, to stabilize half of your retinue and re-transplant more of your limbs that you dared to remember. Recognizing and lauding her talents, the stunning blonde junior surgeon had been chosen for Ordo Service immediately.

Magos Marika Talahan was busy on some tech-control station at the wall, her back turned towards you. Dressed with plain red robes, tight enough to hint a curvaceous body, she had been an Imperial Guard Enginseer for several years before finally getting the elevation to Adeptus Mechanicus Magos. Bad tongues, Lock's in particular, rumored that she had been caught screwing a servitor-unit to get seconded to an Inquisitor's Retinue, but you didn't care. Talahan was a highly skilled operative; both in the field, and in bed. At least as long as she kept her mechandrites to herself. You could swear that there was still machine oil leaving your rectum two weeks after your first night together.

Severius Pius, also termed Khaleb-74, was undoubtedly the omega of your little freak show. Originally a minor shrine cardinal on Balhaut, Severius had run a lucrative black market; trading "original martyr souvenirs", stolen from soldiers' graves, to the many pilgrims visiting the late Warmaster Slaydo's resting place. When his seniors in the upper echelons found out, they had him sentenced to Arco-Flagellation. You had been tasked by Anna at that time to oversee the procedure. It was a thankless, but necessary, political task; and it was often given to senior Acolythes by Inquisitors who deemed the tedious and bloody procedure unworthy of their attention. Your initial sense of boredom had changed to one of great interest however, when you sensed that the former priest had been a so called Pariah. Although his very existence made you feel nauseous, the former cardinal's combat effectiveness was undeniable. So when you rose to the rank of Inquisitor, Anna assigned Khaleb-74, as that was its name now, to your retinue as a highly unwelcome present. You could picture clearly the Valhallan slut giggling when you heard of his transfer for the first time.

Eventually, Kiron recognized your presence and began to rise and welcome you when you hear a call over the vox. "This is Captain Veraina Crick to Inquisitor Evander. Inquisitor, urgent matters require your presence at the bridge immediately. I repeat urgent matters. Request your presence at the bridge A.S.A.P."