I kept the aquila on me at all times; at meals, in training and drills, meeting with the officers, doling out punishment details, and in the showers. Even when I slept, I never removed it. The regimental chaplain was impressed that I was so openly faithful, praising me in front of the troopers and extolling them to follow my example. But I never told him even a small portion of the truth, just smiling and nodding as much as I could whenever I was around him. His chapel didn't sting like Father Anthony's did, disheartening me greatly (1). The worst I ever felt there was a niggling itch, and that was only when the troopers I knew to be most faithful were there praying. Why did it seem that so many priests barring Father Anthony were so lacking in pure faith? I'd always considered myself a cynic before my damnation and meeting who I sincerely hoped for Grear and Mulenz's sake was the God-Emperor (2). But even then, I'd sincerely believed that most priests entered the clergy out of genuine love for the Emperor; it was disconcerting to see so many steeped in degeneracy and falsehoods. Of course, as a walking, talking bundle of Warp-stuff and unwilling heresy, I was hardly one to judge.

Speaking of the Warp, I was dreading the day when about a week after my damnation that the regiment was all loaded back in the transport vessel and we prepared to enter it on the way to meet up with a Navy group before going to the next warzone. After Slawkenburg, and the mass die-off of the cultists thanks to my boneheaded deal with the youngest of the Four Fucks (Fuck your life, fuck your health, fuck your sanity, and fuck you literally) (3), the regiment was being pulled out far faster then anticipated. Would the Gellar Fields expel me? What would I feel like now, being in the Warp? Soon, I had my answer. After that day, I always knew when we entered or exited the Warp as it was like I'd downed a gallon of tanna when we were inside of it. I could see everything, every crevice of the ship, every deck, every soul aboard, and it was honestly very distracting. I was stuck in my room for a day straight, just getting used to seeing so much and learning to 'dim' my senses around others. And I could see not only everything within the ship, but everything around the ship as well. Daemons would fly towards it, and I'd turn my attention to them. What was once mind-bendingly horrible was now less repugnant than a trooper in a fresh uniform; that is to say, not at all.

The Gellar Fields kept me in, as well as keeping the others out, thank the Emperor. I'd had some fears that my presence might cause them to fail. However, I was aware of each time the Gellar Field would start to flicker, and so I learned to broadcast my cursed power to form a second layer of protection around the ship(4). At least, that's what I learned during those first few days of Warp travel as we went to our rendezvous point. I also learned when we exited at our initial destination that leaving the Warp while being unprepared could be like having a crash after having overindulged in sweets. As a result I ended up pleading sickness and recovering in my room again. I just barely made it to the regimental briefing about our intended theater of operations; as it was I missed the first minute or so and had no idea of the name of the next planet we'd fight upon. So I decided to ask my only real friend among the group, Lieutenant Divas (5), where we were headed.

"Perlia." He replied with his usual friendly eagerness, acting like a juvenile canid. Of course that didn't do me much good as giving me an actual answer for where we were going.

"Where the frak is that?" Was my oh so clever response.

"No idea, Ciaphas." He replied, shrugging. "But they have an Ork problem, and we're some of the ones who're being sent to deal with it."

Well that certainly explained some of his eagerness. Valhallans hate Orks more than anything else, probably because they have a constant crop of the things. The way the troops were grinning was unnerving for me, personally. Most likely because that much desire, even if it was the desire to commit violence upon the enemies of the Emperor, was making me feel like I'd just drank a mug of recaf after I'd just recovered from my earlier crash. In response I clutched the Aquila given to me by the God-Emperor tightly, focusing on it and only it, while mumbling prayers for my soul. Jurgen just gave me a concerned glance. Colonel Mosture however was glaring at me as he read out the orders word for word (6). Upon noticing my clutching of the Aquila around my neck, he paused to launch a verbal barb my way.

"Afraid of doing The Emperor's Work?" He drawled, looking at me with distaste.

"Is it a crime to say a prayer to the Emperor?" I shot back, sending him back to explaining the situation. As he did, my aide, Jurgen, came back over to me.

"He's upset with you, Sir." He said.

"I noticed… what's gotten into him?" I asked. While Jurgen's scent could fell a grox, the whispers of the Warp and the feelings of strength I'd get from being around strong emotions would fade while around him. I had, for a time, thought that it was because his BO muffled everything else; not his special ability which, for some reason, never affected me beyond how it affected me before my Damnation (7).

"I think he's upset you stole his glory." Divas replied, shrugging carelessly.

"I don't care for the glory, only that The Emperor's Will was carried out." I replied. I certainly didn't want to become the monster I am today on that mission, that's for sure.

Mostrue glared at us as if he hadn't been the one to interrupt his briefing in the first place. "If you two are done… The reason we're heading to Perlia is twofold. For one, an Ork force is massing towards it; a Waaaagh."

I mentally gulped. A Waaagh was never a good sign. I forced myself to ask the question left hanging in the air after that statement.

"And the other?"

The Colonel was stoic, but I could feel his delight at delivering bad news to me personally. "Reports are coming in that a second Waaagh may be on approach. Additionally, an Eldar Craftworld was sighted nearby as well."

Eldar. I had quite enough of them, thanks to that damned clown setting me up. "Any hypothesis, Colonel?" I asked respectfully. To give the man credit, he was professional and competent enough in his assessment.

"Odds are they are trying to direct them to Perlia. So we have to take the planet, and then dig in to prevent the two Greenskin hordes from merging. Additionally, Perlia is the major industrial world of that subsector. If they take it, then they can use that material to basically steamroll the rest of the subsector." And that thought sent shivers down my spine. With that cheery thought, we were transferred over into the troopship Hand of Vengeance. Soon after, we were back in the Warp once more, though at least this time I was ready for it. As I'd stated and experienced earlier, it was… invigorating. Empowering. And I was utterly terrified, though coward that I was, it wasn't hard to frighten me. I could feel the Gellar Field straining against the Warp, as claws raked the side after we cleared the system. Dozens of Daemons rushed towards the ship… But they paused. They turned to look at me with what I could only describe as fear (8).

"Frak off!" I shouted once alone. To my suprise, it actually worked. They scattered like Schola students when their teacher is about to find them out of bed. I focused as I had learned to do during our earlier jaunt through the Warp,and there was now a small purplish sheen of energy above the Gellar Field; and I could feel everything on it. It's hard to explain, it's like a layer of skin that can lunge out at things. And, after one Tzeentch Daemon got too close, eat things too, filling me and leaving a taste upon my tongue. The flavor was indescribable, as it was ever shifting and changing, with multiple layers. Idly, I wondered what other daemons would 'taste' like, before recoiling from such a heretical thought. Naturally, I did not tell the cafeteria why I was passing on dinner that night.

The transit was more or less uneventful regarding daemons in the hold (Aside from yours truly), but since I was not willing to start devouring the souls of the Emperor's Faithful anytime soon they were perfectly safe. Admittedly some of those on board were more than a little upset that I suddenly had a knack for finding the most egregious infractions, but since I was not executing anyone for it this only got me mild dislike from some of the crew. The Navy's Commissars didn't make an appearance as far as I could tell, but perhaps this ship didn't have any(9)? Regardless, the important part was that through the combined efforts of myself and our Gellar Field, we were safe from daemonic incursion.

However, as I was playing cards with the members of my regiment during the last leg of our journey, I felt it. A big presence in the Warp, slavering. I brought my cards up to cover my mouth and closed my eyes as if I were concentrating. Projecting my thoughts and soul, I found myself on the outside of the hull, right in front of an enormous daemon reaching for the ship. I would have gibbered internally in terror, except for the fact that the thing looked even more terrified of me. Falling back on my skills of bluffing, I decided to act nonchalant, as if I'd encountered an unwelcome acquaintance.

"Is there a problem?" I asked, arms crossed as I stared at the vaguely purple thing, the aura showing a Slaaneshi Daemon of some kind. It trembled, terrifyingly seductive voice shaky as it addressed me.

"I… I didn't mean to intrude on your feast, my liege…"

Well, that wasn't a pleasant title to be addressed by coming from a powerful daemon; not on the level of a Prince or a Greater Daemon, but not a common chaos spawn either. I gave it the number two Commissarial Glare, and it flinched back as I spoke emotionlessly but firmly. "This ship? And everyone on it? Mine. I don't share." I told it, lying as easily as I breathed… was I breathing? I was pretty sure I was breathing. Did Daemon Princes need to breathe in the Warp? I was broken out of my inner musings as the thing bowed its grotesquely beautiful head, speaking in a differential tone still stuttering with shock at encountering me.

"O-of course… s-shall I wait for you to breach it?"

"No. Go away." I ordered it. To my suprise, I came up with a laspistol in one of my hands. That would be useful in the future. The daemon nodded in fear, and dissipated. Of course, it was at that time that the ship shuddered, and exited the Warp. A few curious Nurgle daemons came over to see if they could make any new friends, but one gesture from me sent them sprawling; even though their patron was not my own, it seemed that they had enough self-preservation to flee (10). Reality twisted in a way that should have made me sick, and I was suddenly staring out of my own eyes, Divas waving his arm in front of me.

"Ciaphas?" He asked, radiating concern. I smiled reassuringly at my friend and the others I was playing cards with.

"I'm fine. I was just thinking."

Now I had Divas' curiosity. "About?"

"About how you're going to pay me back." With that, I set the cards down, showing my winning hand.

"Emperor damn it!" Divas swore, as I collected the winnings. Before I could rub it in some more however, the ship shook hard. That made no sense, I could feel that we were already out of the Warp so it couldn't have been a rough realspace transition!

"What was that?!" I exclaimed, shakily getting to my feet.

Divas looked as confused as I was, likewise standing as did the others around our gaming table. "No idea. We're out of the Warp, right?"

"Should be." I replied. Considering that I was no longer buzzing with so much energy that it was hard to get any sleep (And the being forced back into my body thing too), we should have been fine. We all exited the room we were in, looking for answers. Just then, one of the crew raced by, and I grabbed his collar to stop him. "What's going on?!" I bellowed authoritatively.

"The Orks did something to the other ships! They came out of the Warp too early!" He exclaimed, clearly panicked. That answer didn't fill me with good feelings either, and I barely managed to keep my next word from coming out in a squeak.

"What?!"

The crewman hastily explained the situation. "We came out where we were supposed to, but the other ships came out earlier and behind us! We're too far ahead of the fleet! The Orks are using us for target practice!" Another boom shook the ship, and he stumbled away. I felt like ice water was flooding my veins, as I realized that my presence had possibly bypassed whatever sorcery the Orkish Psykers had concocted to stymie our ships, leaving us alone amidst the Orkish rear elements.

"The shuttles, sir?" Jurgen asked phlegmatically, coming up to me from where he'd been waiting out in the hall in case I needed anything during my card game.

"Absolutely." I replied, knowing that my and the men's best bet was to get down to the planet so we had at least the ability to fight back. Divas nodded, and we began our race to the shuttles. I had taken the time to map the place out, both using my instincts from growing up in a Hive City and also the three dimensional scans I had taken via my new abilities. As we sprinted through the corridors, we saw several other guardsmen from various regiments rush to their units. There was another dull thud, and suddenly, there was wind.

There wasn't supposed to be wind in a ship.

"Hull breach?" I asked Jurgen, hiding the panic I felt.

"Hull breach." He confirmed, as laid back as if he were confirming that I had an appointment. This seemed to make several of the Guard panic, and they began to race away from the source of the wind; namely, by racing against the wind, so that when the hull doors came down, they weren't on the wrong side of it. Sure enough, through a massive amount of Imperial flesh, ornate blast doors were beginning to close. Two Guard members from Catachan reacted first; they held the doors in place using their hefty frames, allowing the less muscled guardsmen to wriggle through. However, I knew that it wouldn't last forever.

"Jurgen? Stand back." I ordered, with him immediately taking several large steps away from me. "Emperor, protect me." I whispered as I focused, vaguely grasping out to the Warp. Sure enough, a rush of power overwhelmed me, and a burst of purple flame erupted in my hand as my clothes levitated and flapped about my body. I focused on the doors, and invisible hands grasped them. Using the appendages made of Warp-stuff, I forced the doors open. The Catachans watched in awe as their burden was no longer crushing them. "GO!" I ordered, eyes glowing purple (11). The two nodded, and raced off. The rest of the troopers raced by, with thankfully none of them deciding that I needed the Emperor's Mercy for apparently being a Psyker. After the last guardsman slipped through, I heard a door open to the side. I turned slightly, and saw Jurgen opening an escape pod.

"Sir!" He called over the rushing wind. It occurred to me that with the wind and his having stepped back, it would be impossible for him to get through the doors as the other Guardsmen had. I was also realizing that it was getting slightly harder to breathe, so I should probably go. I let go of the doors, allowing them to slam closed, and turned. Jurgen was sweating slightly, face going reddish from lack of air; evidently damnation made me not need oxygen as much. I slammed the pod open, and basically shoved myself, and by extension Jurgen, in (12). I slammed the door shut, and slumped to the floor. Jurgen's odor was refreshing, strangely enough. Probably because being able to smell it meant that there was air to breathe.

"Do you think you could go out there and survive, sir?" Jurgen mused, looking at the door. I thought about it before shaking my head.

"Without letting the air out and probably having to hold onto your soul? No."

"Fair enough, sir." Jurgen replied bluntly. He then walked over to the crash padding, and began to strap himself in. "I think you should strap in, sir." He advised me calmly.

"I don't think that the pod is going to suddenly fire." I assured him. If we just waited for the vented section of the hull to be repaired, we could be rescued. Of course that's when the pod's machine spirit spoke up.

"Emergency pressurization finished. Decoupling in ten seconds."

Damn it. Considering I was a Daemon now, I should have remembered that there was a Dark God of Fate who was a massive asshat, who absolutely loved messing with us mortals; well, the mortals and me I supposed. I rushed over to the crash netting, and hastily started to strap in. Just as I finished, the countdown ended, and then there was a sudden acceleration and down towards Perlia we went. Down to where the lie that is my reputation would expand beyond all reason, and I would find new and concerning allies.

From the Officer's Log of Colonel Mostrue, Commanding Officer, Valhallan 12th Field Artillery Regiment

I knew it. I always knew there was something false about that bastard Cain. That he was hiding something. But even I couldn't have dreamed that he was a blasted Psyker! His insights and ability to determine the enemy's movements was clearly the work of witchcraft (13)!

Under intense questioning during our descent, Lieutenant Divas confessed to seeing the apostate Cain using the heretical powers of the Warp to supposedly save the lives of loyal Guardsmen and Navy personnel; I highly doubt that. More likely the coward was trying to save his own skin, desperate enough to reveal his heresy. Had he been successful, I imagine he would have either killed those who witnessed his witchery or enthralled them. I can only hope the blasted deceitful witch was blown out into space and died gasping in the void. It's a shame about Gunner Jurgen, but no great loss as he was a slovenly soldier at best, and likely tainted by his close association with Cain (14).

Speaking of taint, I must now look with suspicion upon everyone who came in contact with the false-Commissar. Lieutenant Divas is a solid officer, but if he was tainted by his so-called friendship with Cain, then I will do my duty. To aid in rooting out this heresy, I have asked the Lord General for a replacement Commissar; one from a regiment that did not arrive on Perlia as intact as we did or is otherwise willing to spare their Commissar's services to us. I pray to the Emperor that this time, I get a proper Commissar who acts as one ought to (15).

1: The more sincere a church is, the more it affects Ciaphas. It is honestly disappointing that so few chapels affect him.

2: As an Inquisitor, it is far beneath my dignity to be jealous, even if it is of someone getting to gaze upon He On Terra face to face.

3: A not-inaccurate description of the Ruinous Powers, I will admit.

4: A greater Daemon Prince telling everyone else to 'frak off' from a mortal ship does seem more effective than a gellar field, albeit a lot more heretical.

5: At the time, Saint Divas was naught but a Lieutenant in the 12th, far before his actions led to his canonization for, in his words, 'Doing what Ciaphas would do.' I need not explain the events in his career regarding a particularly entrenched Nurgulite world. Considering Cain's later exploits regarding a promethium refinery, I think that he wasn't that far off. Still, popularizing the saying 'WWCCD?' or 'What Would Ciaphas Cain Do?' amongst the Astra Militarum was perhaps taking that a bit too far.

6: Out of all of the Command Staff of the 12th, Mosture was the only one that I believe did not buy into Cain's reputation.

7: It went unnoticed for some time by Ciaphas and Jurgen that Jurgen is a Blank, an extremely rare occurrence within Humanity's gene-stock. Blanks are humans with a rare gene that causes them to become voids in the Warp, the complete opposite of Psykers. As mentioned above, Jurgen's aura of Wrongness manifests as a particularly foul odor. How Ciaphas managed to maintain a presence in realspace with Jurgen in the general vicinity of him is still an ongoing debate. Jurgen never knew he had this particular gift until it was explained to him point-blank, with diagrams and pictures I might add, so he couldn't have 'turned it off' for Ciaphas' benefit. And his status as a particularly potent Blank allowed him to pierce even the powers of the Great Enemy, as seen above.

8: A Daemon Prince on board any warship would likely do that.

9: Transport ships occasionally have their own Commissars, but, more often than not, rely on the Regimental Commissars to maintain discipline and order while in transit.

10: Daemon Princes are not to be trifled with, no matter the Patronage. Even daemons know this to be a fact.

11: I'm assuming this is in hindsight.

12: Sure, Ciaphas. Sure.

13: Actually this ability of Ciaphas' is more a mixture of common sense and blind luck, as he possessed it even before his Ascension into what he is now. He simply has more tools and abilities to back up his gut feelings and such now.

14: Colonel Mostrue seems to forget that it was he that made Jurgen Cain's aide, no doubt so he could 'reward' Cain for his heroics while still insulting him. Of course the joke would prove to be upon him as Jurgen is one of the best damn aides I've ever seen despite his unsettling aura and general state of uncleanliness.

15: This attitude would inevitably lead to the series of events that would eventually go down in Valhallan history as 'Mosture's Folly'.