Inquisitor Hughes rise to prominence is a strange one, as few adepts with limited combat experience ever survive the rigor of Inquisitorial duty long enough to be granted the rosette. Few adepts are as cunning as Hughes was during his ascension.
Originally brought in the fold as an expert on ancient lore books regarding "daemons" and other occult nonsense, it quickly became clear that Hughes' motivational drive and ability to command were off the charts. He turned his teammates into a crack squad, with limitless information at their finger tips to use in planning assaults, extractions, interrogations, assassinations, divinations, and any other misc. work the Inquisition was set to embark on.
Falling naturally into the Ordos Malleus, where his indomitable spirit and predatory intellect are more than a match for even some of the most ancient warp entities, Hughes has become a shadow lord of the Ordos. Working from darkness, and rarely one to get his hands dirty, Hughes relies on a group of well trained throne agents he can count among his closest allies and friends.
While he IS the Inquisitor, he has learned in his years to trust the SME's with their area, and often gives his agents much leeway to get the job done.
A correspondence between Inquisitor Hughes and his Arch Enemy posted:Edit
"You'll never catch me, Hughes!"
"Me? Fuck no! Lord, no, no, no nonononono... Its my extensive network of killers that are going to catch you. I'm just going to watch."
Famous Hughes IncidentsEdit
Killing an Entire Hotel Because Idiots Don't Know Digi-Lasers for BeansEdit
The elderly woman stands up and furiously tries to straighten her clothes. "Of course, m'lord. We've seven rooms free, sir, and twelve all told. And, ah, I suppose I could give you a group discount, say, thirty thrones a night, m'lord?" She beams hopefully at the Inquisitor.
"I shall need all of them. All 12, yes. Give my best apologies to your current residents but I require a certain amount of privacy," Hughes says confidently,"and as for payment for your inconvenience, I shall offer you a sum of 65 thrones per night per room, with payment to be delivered at the end of my stay."
With a warm smile, he slides a gilded, gold ring, replete with skull adornment and glittering ruby eyes,"As escrow and collateral I offer you keep my ring, a priceless artifact gifted to me from beyond the stars."
Biting down on the ring to assure its value, the old woman accidentally depresses the activation stud. With a sharp crack, the weapon discharges into her mouth, blowing her brains out through a small hole in the back of her head. A look of surprise crosses her face as she slumps forward onto the table.
Hughes narrows his eyes. Rubs his temples. Breathes in. Sighs. Collects his ring, which hums as it recharges, and slides it back on. "Act, Dixon, clear the hotel. Everyone. Dead."
He sighs again and pulls out his autopistol and sets about to his grim task. First he checks the guest registrar for room numbers and number of occupants. Single or two person rooms he will check with Dixon. 3 or more person rooms he motions for Act to do his work. He also checks the till for thrones.
"Reg, nothing happened, we just happened to acquire a hotel for our own use. How are you feeling? I forget, what kind of tricks do you have in that brain of yours?"
"Ugh, awful work, this. Its the whole, black shadowy hand of the Emperor bit, you know?" Hughes says idly as he walks back to the dying man. He puts a hand on his shoulder as he thumbs back the hammer on his revolver. "I'm dreadfully sorry for all this, but you see, we're in the Inquisition, and the fate of this planet potentially hangs in the balance of my actions. To let you live, where you might possibly spread word of my arrival, could shift things terribly. In a way, you are a Hero to the Imperium. What is your name, Sir?" He continues on,"It's not important, for in our work no names shall ever be sung in glory or writ in epic novella. No, our thanks is merely the continuation of this great Imperium. I commend you, Sir, for your work to see that dream continue on, and in your death you shall be seated at the right hand of the Emperor, may he keep you close to his breast." He promptly shoots the man in the head.
Then, he calmly gets up, walks over to the fainted man and shoots him as well. "He probably heard all that, yea?"
"Apologies for this, but I did not think we had much of a choice. We stick out like a sore thumb, and gossiping of our location, while inevitable, needs to be head off as much as we can."
Hughes makes sure to move from room to room, inspecting each for anything of note and designating areas for work. "The back corner 5 and 6 will be detention and interrogation. Brother Grey Knight, you shall have room 10 to do as you see fit. The rest of you in 1-4, 11 and 12. Venerable Tech Priest, I have a vox thief which we can use to listen to conversation, the rites for it are a bit out of my understanding so I'd appreciate any help in that regard. We can use room 8 as an equipment room, and place the Vox Thief in there."
He begins wiping the blood off his robes,"We do not know what has happened here, but I do not think a group of trusted Throne Agents were wiped out by feudal hooligans, a more technically sound enemy must be in our midst. If not, then Emperor preserve us these men probably had arcane help."
"Let us get this place in order, strip the bodies and wrap them in one of those sail cloths, we'll burn them, Regis."
Killing Lord UrserEdit
"Nobody expects the Inquisition, we shoot first!" Hughes cackles. He snaps a shot off at Lord Urser's leg.
Hughes loves his jobEdit
"Wasn't the Sorceress bitch mute?" he asked Tyberias "I mean I know Dixon is damn good at his job but Throne, I don't think he is that good yet?"
"We have ways of making you talk," Hughes says coldly, then laughs. "I just wanted to say that."
Hughes gets stuck in a magic amuletEdit
As your fingers close around the amulet, you notice that the black gem is almost too hot to touch. Suddenly the all the light in the room disappears! As your sight adjusts to the darkness, you notice wispy forms hanging in the abyss. Five of them surround you: three are silvery, with jagged red edges drifting across them; one is barely there, little more than a flicker of grey; and the last burns almost too brightly to look at.
"Emperor, protect me," Hughes whispers and draws his cloak around him with one hand while holding his autopistol tight in the other. Something had gone horribly wrong with that amulet. His eyes began to adjust, and it was then he saw the wispy figures before him. He strained to avoid staring at the one too bright for vision, instead focusing on the 3 in grey and red.
He had to think, this was certainly illogical and was likely warp magik or worse. That did not bode well. Sub0-vocalizing, Hughes speaks into the microbead on his throat,"Dixon, you hear me? Anyone?"
Likely not working, Hughes instead confronts his ghostly captors?
"Who are you? What has happened to me? Answer or face pain of death at the hand of the Inquisition!"
Hughes thought back to his ascension. It had been a very long time since he had been brought into the Inquisition, and he had seen and done many things. As an Adept growing up he'd had a nose for trouble. One problem in particular stood out to Hughes as he stood in the blackness of no-where. An expert on Daemonology and the Occult, Hughes had been brought to investigate a disappearance among the ruling body of Centra III, a system in the heart of the Calixis sector. A strange cult had taken these important officials and blinded them through poisonings.
Next they had met with these newly crippled rulers and offered them the gift of sight in return for their loyalty to the group. These men did not know what they were dealing with, and all but 1 said yes. The one who didn't contacted the Inquisition. "I can just get augmetic eyes, these men are up to no good!" he'd said. He'd been right of course.
Hughes and his crew had gotten deep into the Cult, and found out they were using a kind of jerry-rigged sanctioning, imbuing the officials with a portion of a trapped daemon's energy. The result had given them the warp-sight most often associated with astropaths. The very description of which reminded him very much of what he was seeing now.
"Emperor-fucking-shit, I am trapped in that goddamn Amulet, or in the fucking warp in the same goddamn room," Hughes says in surprise as his mind clicks to identify where he is. He had to devise a way to free himself. He tries to move, taking steps towards the super bright vision before him. He reaches out with his free hand, trying to grasp hold of its blinding energy.
Hughes is petty and spitefulEdit
- "That foul witch haunts us even in her death." He pulls out his pistol again and pops a shot off into the corpse of Otai.
- He pops another round into Otai for good measure.
- He tries to drop another shot into Otai but his gun clicked empty. "Blast! Foul temptress, taunts me in death! Empties my gun..." he mutters.
- "By the Guddamn Right Hand of the God-Emperor, you backwater louts!" Hughes bellows with fury and vitriol reserved for the most annoying of foes,"Now stand down or so help me I shall glass this entire planet with power the likes of which you have only dreamt about in your straw covered, piss soaked beds!"
- A baleful eye is cast back towards the boy and his man, as Hughes soaks in every detail for the briefest of moments. He catalogs the information in his head, in case he would have to hunt down and kill that little boy some day.
- "Oh for Throne's Sake, if we have to fight abominable dopplegangers of our former allies I am going to declare exterminatus on your planet and erase your entire legacy from any kind of record books." Hughes pinches the bridge of his nose,"Dixon, make a mess."
- "Should have trusted my instincts and shot them at first sight, I knew they were up to no good! Free-fire, kill them all, etcetera!" Hughes says into the Vox and then turns to the Grasscutters. "Time to cut your Inquisitorial teeth on some heretics."
- The Inquisitor's hellgun practically turns to slag in his hand, the barrel overheating instantly due to a faulty lens or some other inane piece of mechanicum dog-trollop. Hughes face turns just as red as his gun, and he throws the weapon to the floor,"I'm a goddamn Inquisitor of the God-Emperor's Imperium! Can't I get a fucking weapon that works?!"
- Hughes compels the men around him to fight harder and more efficiently,"Fight harder and more efficiently! A-Box shots only! Grasscutters, show the Emperor you care!" He hopes his inspiring words will inspire them to go for the kill.
- The antique revolver replies with a disappointing click, and Hughes realises the bullet is a dud. "Horseshit! HORSESHIT! I am a guddamn INQUISITOR!" Hughes throws his matched revolver at the heretics in disgust and quickly draws his Irontalon. He just pops off a single shot with the bulkier weapon.
- "If this is some kind of daemon prince or nether spirit I should have you know, that you, at this very moment, sit in the clutches of the Ordos Malleus. We make Daemons our bitches. It is kind of a policy actually. No, more than that, a mandate."
- "We'll need the array if I'm to call down exterminatus all over this glowing shit heap of a planet," the Inquisitor says,"So I guess we'll take it!" He motions the grasscutters forward, and picks up the rear behind them. He has his trusted hellgun with him again, hoping for better results in the next firefight. "If you fuck up again I'm having Tyberias disassemble you," he whispers to the gun.
- If the heretics were mining something, it would mean that they'd have to go into that mine. That would likely suck. Inquisitor Hughes did not become an Inquisitor by sticking his dick into a hornet's nest.
- Rather than fire his hellgun, Hughes instead scrutinizes the mechanical monstrosity and then uses his vast intellect and logic to unmake the thing. Daemons hold sway in the real world due to belief and worship. By applying the cold, unfeeling rules of logical reality to the daemon-creature, Hughes believes he can cause it to realize that it is a silly, ludicrous beast not fit to walk this plane. And that will destroy it, like a balloon with too much air! "Your angles don't add up, unholy one! You have, like, 5 right angles right there. That is not how triangles work! I DO NOT BELIEVE IN YOU! YOUR FOLLOWERS DIED BECAUSE THEY WERE WEAK! YOU ARE WEAK! BE GONE!"