View Full Version : Leif Kinnear - Facilitator of Chaos

31-12-2010, 04:09
Heya y'all
I couldn't sleep so i though i'd write a little story to alleviate the boredom. Its possibly the start of a mini-series about the memoirs of Leif Kinnear and his frequent skirmishes with the Inquisition. Hope it amuses you chaps. C&C welcome.


My name is Leif Kinnear, I am a Facilitator for Chaos cults throughout the Navan System. There are hundreds of chaos cults on the 38 inhabited planets and moons of the Navan System; ranging from the imperial sanctioned death-cult of Khorne on the moon of Amis V *1 to the Tzeentch worshiping Way of the Yellow Dragon biased in the system capital of Navva. I work with them to further the works of the dark gods in anyway I can, usually using my skills of espionage; deamongraphy and, on several memorable occasions, seduction. As you would guess this makes me a high profile target for the Inquisition Cells operating within the Navan System and beyond.

And it’s for that very reason I found myself in this predicament: hanging from a rooftop by one hand as a member of The Holy Orders of the God-Emperor's Inquisition stares down at me, backed up by several bulky henchmen.
“By the mandate of the God-Emperor of Mankind, I, Inquisitor Vanlaere of the Ordo Hereticus, declare you a Herticus Diabloacus and…” He went on for some time like this, I shall spare you the details as it is sufficient to say things looked bad, and this Inquisitor fully intended to send my soul screaming to hell in no short order.
“Listen” I interrupted him mid flow “Vanlaere, was it? Lets not **** about here; you got me, your trap worked perfectly and I’m about to fall to my death. Well done. But-”
“I do not need your congratulaions scum”
“Whoa, less of the scum please, I have feeling you know. But – as I was saying – But, is this really how you want to it to end? I’m sure your whole career has built up to this: catching Leif Kinnear: scourge of a thousand worlds, beloved of the Chaos Gods, leveller of the fifth moon of Moschel*2. And you want it to end: with a set of ceilings tiles on greased rungs and a bullet in the head? That’s not going to make an epic tale to inspire future generations of Inquisitors is it?’
The Inquisitor glanced to the henchman on his right,
“The witch has a high opinion of himself Marcus” he looked back at me “I know not of these atrocities witch, I hunt you because of your actions on Eridu”
“WHAT? Do you not even know who I am? I’m Leif ******* Kinnear, arch-enermy of the Inquisition!” Its one thing to be killed for my multitude of crimes but to be hunted down for one? I didn’t even remember ever going to Eridu. *3
“I care not for your ego witch, I care only that I have been entrusted by the God-Emperor to hunt down scum like you.”
“Well the point I was going to make is, why not settle this like men? Hand to hand, sword against… big hammery-thing” Vanlaere paused, I could see the idea appealed to him.
“Lord” the henchman to his right said “the name Leif Kinnear is in the fugitive database, he is listed as threat level Beta, if it is him you should kill him quickly”
“Do not tell me my duty Marcus” Vanlaere looked troubled, but then appeared to make a decision.
“I shall fight the witch in close combat, in a honourable manner” he stepped back and I climbed back on to the roof “none of you are to interfere” There was a slight humming sound as he powered up his force hammer and holstered his bolt pistol.

We stood opposite each other on the roof, his breathing was short and sharp; he was clearly anticipating an easy win. Understandable really, tall but skinny I don’t look like much of a warrior and I held my power sword unfamiliarly.
“To the death scum” he said and charged, his hammer already swung above his head for a death blow
So clichéd. I dropped my sword to the floor and drew a bolt pistol from my coat, I may not be much of a swordfighter but the Dark Gods have gifted me with amazing reflexes. So I could easily draw the weapon and shoot him before he had moved three paces, the explosive rounds blowing the majority of his head off. I whipped round, and shot the sniper I had noticed hiding on the opposite rooftop when I climbed up, I spun back and emptied three rounds into Marcus torso before he had even raised his gun. Which just left…
The thus far silent henchman was floating several feet above the roof, an odd aura surrounding his outstretched hands.
Damn. Damn. Damn. Psyker. I could suddenly taste… copper? As I tried to bring my gun up to finish him I met his eyes, they burned bright white. He smiled and I was blasted backwards.


Slowly light and sound came back, along with another massive dose of pain. I was lying on my back and the sun was high in the sky, I must have been out for a good 14 hours. I slowly picked myself up, I was in an alley I recognised as across the street from where I had met the Inquisitors little band, I had fallen 10 stories. Why was I still alive? What happened to the psyker? What kind of Witch Hunter employs a psyker?*4

I shrugged to myself, holstered my pistol and limped off to look for my power sword.


*1 It's worth noting that the imperial authorities don’t know it’s a Khorne death cult, and in-fact think that its warrior women kill and mutilate their victims in the name of Saint Helina, a two centuries dead martyr. I knew the old girl and know she would have got a kick out of that, she was one of my finest works – but I digress
*2 This is slightly exaggerated, but to be fair ‘Supplier of weapons and military training to the cult that destroyed fifth moon of Moschel’ sounds bloody stupid
*3 I looked it up later, turns out two years previously I had poisoned the water supply of a city; killing a few hundred civilians and, more importantly, one of Inquisor Vanlaere’s most loyal henchmen; hence his chasing me across half the system. Some people
*4 Well a dead one, but apart from that


Thanks for reading :)

02-01-2011, 05:39
In late M40.989 I was working with the Al’lela Sect of Kanarni, a small agri-planet at the edge of Navan System. To be honest; these boys where amateurs before I came along, there biggest act of destruction being some angry graffiti; but now I had helped the cult grow too little under a thousand members and was on the point of toppling the capital city into anarchy. Not bad for three months work. The final piece was to summon a minor daemon to destroy the Arbites stations scattered around the city.

So that is what I was doing. I was in a large room somewhere near the main Arbites HQ accompanied by around fifty cultists, stood in a rough circle and chanting*1. I was stood in a pentangle in the middle of the hall with my arms raised.
“Lo’sh granishh am-nen” nearly finished, I just need to speak the final syllables and the daemons would be here, oh yes, and the sacrifice. I looked down at the woman the cultist had brought me, lying spread-eagled on the floor. She was about 19 and fairly pretty,I briefly wondered where she had come from, stolen from some house in the middle of the night no doubt. No matter, I kneeled down and spoke to her,
“Soon be over my love” I stroked her face
“Don’t worry about a thing” I enjoyed the fear in her eyes for a moment before ripping open her dress and plunging my knife into her heart.
“HA’PHIN!” The final words. It was done. I left the knife in her and wiped the blood of my hands on her dress. I stood and waited. Then a syrupy, loving voice in my ear:
“Greetings Kinnear, how may I please you today?”
“You can show yourself for a start” I replied, keeping my voice level. The daemon did, a lithe figure appearing before me; it had taken the form of the girl I had just killed. With a few differences: her skin was a light blue and it had two small horns sprouting from its head. I rolled my eyes,
“Funny. Is that supposed to shock me?”
“Worth a try” the daemon smirked. I had known Yith-Bothast, Chosen of Slannesh, Mistress of a Million Pleasures for the best part of two centuries and we had developed a good working relationship; that’s not to say she wouldn’t have destroyed me if I’d slipped up on the summoning though, she was still a daemon after all. But seeing as she was one of the few constant faces in my life *2 I nearly considered her a friend. Nearly.
“I have a task for you Yith, I need you to kill every Arbites in the city before sunrise. That’s 7 hours so you should have some time to spare afterwards, you can go ahead and kill civilians after that. Reign of terror, you know how it goes.”
“And what do I get?”
“Yith, you’re a slave; you realise I don’t actually have to give you anything to make you do this”
“Oh fine” I rolled my eyes,
“I really spoil you something awful. You can have the others in this room” She smiled, showing small fangs and curtsied.
“Thank you my lord” The air blurred as she moved, so fast even my heightened sense could barely see her. The cultist began to scream.

I woke up the next morning feeling very refreshed, I walked out onto my balcony a looked out over the city. There was riot going on in the street below my room and screams coming from all over the city. I decide to go for a walk.

I had just crossed past the now ruined city hall when I felt a sudden change in pressure. I turned round to see Yith standing there, her dress and body drenched in blood. She smiled
“All dead mater, may I depart?”
“Not yet” I said “I have one more job for you, could you fetch…”

Ten minutes later the Planetary Governor was kneeling before me sobbing as he looked at the mutilated stumps where his hands had been. The man standing behind me stepped forward and kicked him in the head
“Shut up” The Governor fell to the floor, the looked up at his assailant. It was his second in command, Vice-Chancellor Venall. The look of betrayal and pain on his face was delightful.
“Please…” he grovelled at Venall’s feet.
“I said shut up” Venall snarled and shot him. Not the wittiest one-liner ever, I told you these cultists where amateurs.
The Governor’s body was still twitching as I turned to Yith;
“You may depart”
“A pleasure as always” she leaned in to kiss my cheek, but before she could I spoke the word of dismissal and she was gone.
I looked across at Venall,
“This city is yours, I estimate you have at least nine months before the imperial army is mobilised to re-conquer it. You know my demands regarding the cache of weapons in the PDF base; I want them on delivered within the month to Tric Prime.”
“Yes my lord, it will be done”
“If it is not you shall certainly live to regret it, although you will wish you did not”
I turned and walked away while around me the city burned.

*1To be honest I could have summoned the daemon without them but I liked the effect it gave, also daemons tend to be hungry when they materialise.
*2Okay, the actual face changes but you know what I mean


I'll be honest i'm not sure about the second half of this, i might go back and re-write it later. Again C&C more than welcome. Thanks for reading

03-01-2011, 12:00
I'm liking it.

Quite funny, I mean were still killing people but it's funny.

03-01-2011, 16:50
Cheers Nightangle
Humour was the angle i was going for so i'm glad you liked it.
I'll probably have a few more chapter written soon :D

04-01-2011, 22:27
Pretty good, u should turn it into a little short story collection. More!

19-01-2011, 16:36
Very nice good work!

20-01-2011, 23:48
Thanks chaps, glad you like it. Now on to the narrative!


I have not been in the frontlines of many wars, small skirmishes sure, even the odd pitched battle; but full scale wars – rarely. There are very good reasons for this: for one, the frontlines tend to be uncomfortable, I am a not accustomed to spending weeks in a cold, muddy trench and I have no wish to be. Secondly, the frontlines tend to get people killed, while in general I approve of people dieing too achieve my goals, I tend to exclude myself from those that die, the frontlines have no such qualms. So you can imagine why I was unhappy to be stranded on Tric Prime during the Mitha Uprising of M40.990, a seven month meat-grinder which saw the forces of Mitha, a cult I had helped to arm, battling the Adeptus Mechanicus forces that controlled the world’s refineries. Tric Prime is an extremely volcanic world and I spent the majority of my time there in the squalid capital of Mozovtev, a thoroughly unpleasant place in the seemingly extinct volcano and locked in a perma-smog.

I had been leading the forces in the west of the city single-handedly for the last two months, ever since the cult leader snuffed it when he led a charge against a skitarii battalion armed with melta-guns. Idiot. I make no claim to be a military genius*1 but I was slowly gaining ground, despite the ineptitude of my forces. The problem with cults on Adeptus Mechanicus controlled worlds is that unless you corrupt the Tech Priest’s themselves, pretty much everyone is an idiot, good only for manual labour. Cunning fella that I am I had managed to corrupt about a quarter of the junior Priests on the world*2, giving the cult some hope of success.

My main objective was the spaceport two kilcks north of the furthest point my men had so far conquered. I needed to get off this damn rock; I had work to do elsewhere.
“Right” I was addressing the commanders of the squads under my control, ten men each leading a hundred or so men,
“Tonight, we take the space port. Tonight we hurl the pawns of the machine-god back. Tonight we will destroy last bastion against our control of the city. Tonight we will be VICTORIOIUS!” Not that original, but it got a cheer so what the hell. The commanders marched out and I was left alone to ready my weapons.

I was less than four hundred meters from the spaceport when it was destroyed. A vast explosion flattened the buildings around it and threw my entire squad to the ground.
Before I blacked out I thought I saw a man sized figure hovering over the destroyed building*3. The blood in my mouth tasted metallic, the smog must have been getting to me. I hadn’t even drawn my bolt pistol.

Four months later the majority of the world had fallen to the Mitha and I finally found a ship out of there, five months late for my next job.

*1 Okay, technically I am a genius, and true genius transcends all fields , so in a very technical way i am a military genius. But I don't claim to be one. Though I am.
*2 Not by myself obviously, the cultist had done most of the work before I arrived.
*3 I dismissed it as trauma; boy did I regret doing that


As ever thanks for reading, C&C welcome: more jokes? Less jokes? More fast-paced action? Less lengthy introductions? More witty wordplay?

20-01-2011, 23:50
And because its been so long since my last postings: BONUS STORY!!:D

Now this isn't so much an original idea as a blatant rip-off/loving parody, but I just loved the idea of doing it. TBH its probably been done before but what the hell:


I had just arrived on Wensul, one of the largest Forge Worlds in the sector. Because of the recent uprising on Tric Prime security was tighter than ever, it was impossible to smuggle any kind of weapon in without a document signed in triplet by the Corpse-Emperor himself. Luckily forgery is one of my many skills so I was able to produce an ID badge that would allow me to requisition weapons from the Skitarii HQ itself. Oh the delicious irony, its moments like this that make me love my job.

I walked into the weapons department, the clerk behind the counter looked up: “How may I assist your sir?”
“I would to like to acquire some firearms if you please; heretics, for the shooting of”
“Sorry sir?” the clerk looked puzzled
“I want a gun”
“ahh, do you have authorisation?”
“Why yes, before you stand the leader of the fine body of men we know as the Fabricator-General Marius Forge’s Skitarii”
“I’m in charge here”
“You’re my boss?”
“In a nutshell; now too the business at hand”
“Certainly, sir. What would you like?”
“Well, eh… how about a Bolt-Pistol?”
The clerk frowned “I'm, afraid we're fresh out of Bolt-Pistols, sir.”
“Oh, never mind, how are you on Flamers?”
“I'm afraid we never have them at the end of the week, sir, we get more new on Monday.”
I sighed “Tish tish. No matter. Well, stout yeoman, one Heavy Stubber, if you please.”
The clerks frowned deepened “Ah! They’ve been on order, sir, for two weeks. Was expecting more this morning.”
I laughed, “It’s not my lucky day, is it? … Needle Pistol?
“Sorry, sir.”
“Plasma Gun?”
“Normally, sir, yes. Today… the van broke down.”
“ Ah. Multi-Laser?
“ Sorry.”
“Meltagun? Multi-Melta?”
“Any Inferno Pistols, per chance?”
“Missile Launcher?”
“Heavy Bolter?”
He paused, “No.”
“Ripper Gun? Autogun? Exitus Pistol? Stub Pistol? Shotgun?”
I sighed again, and placed my hands on the table “An Assault Cannon, perhaps?
The clerk beamed, “Ah! We have an Assault Cannon, yessir.”
I was shocked but delighted, “You do! Excellent.”
The clerk started to look a bit shifty “Yessir. It's..ah,.....it's a bit… rusty...”
I waved my hand “Oh, I like them rusty”.
“Well,.. It's very rusty, actually, sir.”
“No matter. Fetch hither the wepon de la déstruction!”
“I...think it's a bit rustier than you'll like it, sir.”
I slamed my hand on the table “I don't care how bloody rusty it is. Hand it over with all speed.”
The clerk leaned beneath the table “Oooooooooohhh!”
“What now?”
“It fell apart sir, soon as I touched it”
“Did it”
“Yes sir”
There was a slight pause
“A Sniper Rifle?” I asked hopefully
“A Storm Bolter perhaps”
“No, sir.”
I paused again, and tried to keep my temper in check: “You...do have some guns, don't you?”
The clerk beamed at me “Of course, sir. It's an amoury, sir. We've got-”
I stopped him: “No no... don't tell me. I'm keen to guess.
“Fair enough.”
“Uuuuuh, Psycannon”.
I rejoiced: “Ah, well, I'll have one of those!”
“Oh! I thought you were talking to me, sir. Mister Psycannon, that's my name.”
We staired at each other in silence for a moment, neither one of us blinking. I broke first.
“Uh, not as such.”
“A Tau Pulse Rifle?”
“Eldar Reaper Launcher?”
“Necron Gauss Flayer?”
“Not today, sir, no.”
I racked my brain, and then: “Aah, how about a Lasgun?”
The clerk shook his head “Well, we don't get much call for them around here, sir.”
“Not much ca-” I stuttered “It's the single most popular firearm in the universe!”
“Not 'round here, sir.”
I gave him an icy stare “and what IS the most popular firearm 'round here?”
“Grenade launcher, sir.”
“IS it.”
“ Oh, yes, it's staggeringly popular on this planet, squire.”
“Is it.”
“It's our number one best seller, sir!”
“I see.” I paused; “Grenade Launchers, eh?
“Right, sir.”
“Right. Okay. 'Have you got any?' he asked, expecting the answer 'no'.” I said, my voice dripping with barely concealed anger
“I'll have a look, sir...” He looked round the room, then went into the back “nnnnnnnnnnnnnnnno.” He called, coming back into the room.
“It's not much of an armoury, is it?”
“Finest in the Sector!”
“Explain the logic underlying that conclusion, please.”
“Well… it's so clean, sir!”
“It's certainly uncontaminated by weapons....” I turned to leave,
The clerk perked up: “You haven't asked me about Las Pistols, sir.”
I spun back “Would it be worth it?”
“Could be....”
I spoke slowly “Very well. Have you got any Las Pistols?”
I heaved yet another sigh “Figures. Predictable, really I suppose. It was an act of purest optimism to have posed the question in the first place. Tell me”
“Have you in fact got any weapons here at all.”
“Yes, sir.”
The clerk paused “No. Not really, sir.”
“You haven't.”
“ Nosir. Not one. I was deliberately wasting your time,sir.”
“Well I'm sorry, but I'm going to have to shoot you.”
“Right-o, sir.”
There was a long pause
“Yes sir, ironic isn’t it?” *1

*1 Years later I found out that Mister Psycannon was, in-fact,a cultist; trained by the very cult I had come to assist; and did this to everyone that came in. I’m sure there is a moral there, but I can’t begin to see what it is.

21-01-2011, 14:58
That last chapter was quite marvellous, heard the same kind of thing before but the little joke at the end was good.