After being reminded of the above, I decided to write a more fleshed-out thing.

Ciaphas Cain: HERO OF KHAINE!

Rare was it for a Farseer to take to the field of open battle, but such times were upon them. He had seen a vision of blood, fire, and death… and worst of all, humiliation… at the hands of one Mon'keigh. The last one was enough for the council to agree to this ambush. The target? A small mon-keigh transport. The one that would cause them much horror was there.

"Your orders, Farseer?" one of the Guardians inquired, readying his weapon. The Farseer looked at the ship.

"Begin. Leave no survivors."

*****

It was the explosion that hit first. I rolled out of my bed, barely missing hitting my head on the end table. Jurgen, ever-faithful, burst into the room, lasgun primed. "Status report!" I ordered.

"The ship is under attack, sir! Eldar!"

I cursed, and it had nothing to do with his odor. "How many?"

"Thousands!" The ship, which had transitioned to realspace after the Navigator almost perished from a Gellar flicker, was a sitting duck. "Come on, Comisar!" I stumbled to my desk, and grabbed my laspistol and chainsword. I threw my uniform on as quickly as I could, and I was out in the hallway. My first plan was to head to the escape pod, but at best that would end up with me as a sitting target for the Eldar, and at worst, I'd be caught deserting, and this time, there wouldn't be a flanking Tyranid action to save my reputation. There was a scream in the distance. "Jurgen! The vents!" I ordered, slicing away the vent covering, and crawling in. He got in, and shoved the cover back on. It was haphazard, but hopefully it would mean they passed us by. Sure enough, we heard footsteps, and then the tongue of the Eldar was heard. There was a pause, before they moved on.

"What now, sir?" he asked me.

Again, the urge to flee to the pod was very tempting. However… Now I had the advantage. The vents and passageways hidden in the ship were not unlike the underhive. "Follow me," I told him, as we began our escape.

*****

We came across two Eldar soldiers talking to one another as they shot at some corpses- evidently they were being extra thorough. As we approached, however, they winced. Evidently Jurgen's smell got to the Eldar as well.

"NOW!" I shouted, and we opened up on them. They were down in moments. We then slid into the vents again. This tactic repeated itself almost a dozen times. Sometimes, we were able to save a soldier or two. Most of the time, however, we only came across corpses. Eventually, a shot from some kind of energy weapon welded the vents we were shooting from apart, leaving us separated.

"Split up!" I ordered Jurgen. He nodded, and we went our separate ways.

*****

Farseer Taegan was developing an increasing migraine. While most of the mon-keigh fought and died like they usually did, a few had taken to hit and run tactics. The most troublesome of these was a pair. One of them was a void in the Sea of Souls, and even being on the same ship as him was causing some problems. The other, though… was only giving him a headache. The fate of him was in an eternal flux. One moment, he was glowing with the golden light of the Mon-keigh's seer, their so-called Emperor. Another, Abaddon the Despoiler was kneeling before him, as he wore the signs of the blessings of Chaos. Another had him crowned by a Yignr. More and more possible fates flew by. Finally, he got a name from one of the captives.

Ciaphas Cain.

Upon hearing that name, a thousand fates flew at him at once, burying him for a moment. It was at this point that he heard the vent, and ordered the Eldar to fire upon it. For a minute, there was silence afterwards. And then, a mon-keigh melee weapon cut a hole through the vent, and the Commissar leapt down. The flow of fates stopped, as they stared at each other. Taegan drew his blade.

"Ciaphas Cain," he drawled.

"Speaking," Mon-keigh replied, face in a low frown.

"Your soldiers seem to think highly of you. Stand down, and we will leave this ship, and all of the surviving mon-keigh be spared. You will, of course, be put to death."

"You wouldn't keep your word, you backstabbing cowards," the mon-keigh snarled.

*****

The words slipped from my mouth before I could compose myself. My chainsword was still running. The Farseer gained an annoyed expression. "I do hate it when your kind even pretends to know what us higher beings think," he sighed, before rushing at me. I hurriedly brought my chainsword up, barely deflecting the blade. Then came the next blows. Each one was far harder than any of the instructors at the Schola. I imagined that this must be like what fighting an Astartes would feel like to a mere mortal. The other Eldar didn't seem to join in- rather, they wanted their leader to have some fun. Each attempt I made was brushed aside with a bored expression on the Eldar's face. However, I then slid down, and brought my boot to his groin. The Eldar's eyes widened in surprise, and then he bellowed in pain, sword swinging down even harder. I brought my chainsword up, but the Eldar's eyes glowed, and the blade he was using sliced clean through my own. He then used his sorcery to lift me up by invisible hands, and throw me down the hall. I slammed into the bulkhead, sheer dumb luck makign my back take most of the impact, instead of my skull. However, my hands were bleeding quite fiercely.

"I am impressed. You fought poorly for an Eldar, which is quite a step above your kind's usual wild abandon." He was in no mood to finish me quickly. That much was obvious. I desperately looked around to find something- anything- that would get me out of this. As I turned my head, I was the hilt of a sword. It must've been the sword of an Eldar. My mind balked at using a Xenos weapon, but apparently the Farseer saw my eyes linger on it, and he lunged. There was no time to debate. I'd atone for using Xenos weaponry later. I grabbed the sword, and held it above me. And then… it ignited. The Farseer's eyes widened in shock, the blades connecting. I pushed, and, to my utter astonishment, I sent him flying backwards. He flipped, and landed on his feet. His eyes, however, had changed. They no longer had any arrogance in them, nor any rage.

They were filled with fear.

"No… no no no no no no! You… you can't!" he babbled. "There's no way you can wield that! No way your filthy hands should be able to touch it!"

"You're the one who cut my hands up," I snarled, holding the blade in front of me. My blood dripped to the ground. I moved first. I sprinted across the hall, desperate to take advantage of the shock of the Eldar. To my surprise, it seemed like he was reacting in slow motion. I raced in front of him, and sliced at his sword from the top down. I don't know why I chose that angle- I just reacted. The blade split his sword in half. The Eldar screamed in fear, and I swung the blade, taking his head from his shoulders. Then, his entourage slowly went for their weapons. I lunged, desperate to stop them. The first couple went down before I saw their bullets… but they were moving so slow. How? How could they be that slow? I dodged them, and began hacking and slashing- not the usual refined way, or my barely hanging on type of style, but a wild, desperate flurry of blows. Within a few moments, the Eldar were all dead. It was then that I heard clapping.

"Bravo, my friend! Oh, bravo!" I turned to see who was talking, and I paled. It was an Eldar that was far taller then the Farseer, decked out in the garb of a circus clown. "I must say, that sword really suits you! You certainly cut him down to size!"

BAZINGA!

"Who are you?!" I exclaimed, trying to put on a brave face.

"And your hands are bloody, too! My my, color me impressed! The blade must really like you! As for who I am? Well, Ciaphas Cain, my name is Cregorach. Perhaps you've heard of me?"

The name came up a few times, but only in passing. "The Eldar god of trickery…" I whispered.

"In the flesh! I couldn't just idly sit by and ignore the comedy in front of me! Oh, how hilarious it is, to see the last pride of the Aeldari stripped away, as one of their most prized artifacts bonds to one they see as Mon-keigh!" The clown howled with laughter. I looked down on the blade.

"Artifact?"

"That's no mere pointy metal stick, my friend!" the Xenos god declared. "That right there is the bona fide one and only original Sword of Khaine! And no one but that angry glitter bomb has ever been able to touch it without immediate madness, let alone wield it! And here you are! Perfectly sane!"

My eyes went wide with shock.

"And don't try to ditch it! It's a very possessive blade! Once it finds a master, it stays by their side! Now, I'd love to chit-chat more, but I have a few things to do- save some Solitaires, troll She Who Thirsts, and help out those Lamenter fellows! Seriously, their bad luck is just a sad joke at this point! I'm going to make their luck a happy joke! Oh, and Miss Inquisitor? I give the transportation three and a half stars." Then, with a bang of confetti, the clown god vanished, leaving a stunned woman.

"I am Inquisitor Amberly Vail, of the Order Xenos. I request that you come with me."