We followed the Eldar for a good long while, until we came across an abandoned Orkish convoy. The reason for the abandonment was obvious; the well-placed shots to the head that had been administered by a long-range rifle. I couldn't help but let out a low whistle of appreciation at our alien friend's handiwork, and said a quiet prayer to the God-Emperor in gratitude that he was on our side for whatever reason. I only hoped that it'd last, as from what I knew Eldar could make for fickle allies at best.
"Which one is the most likely to actually work?" I asked Jurgen as I waved at the motley line of ramshackle vehicles. As a Valhallan, he had far more knowledge of the Orks than I did, let alone most Imperial troops whose best information on the greenskins was from the Imperial Infantryman's Uplifting Primer (which I personally found not to be worth the paper it was printed on).
"This one." My aide replied, pointing to one with a sturdy set of treads and an armored driver's station. A heavy bolter had been crudely welded to its roof, and it was painted with messy red stripes. There was also a small bit of battle damage. Honestly to me it looked pretty much the same as the other vehicles.
"What makes you think that?" I asked, curious as to his reasoning.
"It has the biggest gun, which means it was probably the Nob's buggy and the best maintained." Jurgen pointed out, explaining the logic behind his decision. It certainly made sense when he explained it like that. Jurgen then helped himself into the driver's seat. The Ranger gained a terrified look as my aide familiarized himself with the steering mechanism.
"This is a very bad idea." He muttered, giving Jurgen an odd look.
Frowning, I looked to our Xeno ally. "Is it because of Jurgen's… what was it? Warp nullification?" That was the only reason I'd allow for him to feel any unease, because I would not tolerate any disparagements of my aide. Jurgen had shown me far too much loyalty to be deserving of any less from me.
The Eldar shrugged, seemingly unable to fully put a finger on his bad feeling. "That, and I suddenly sense impending peril." (1)
"Well, then we'd better get underway." I replied, hopping into the vehicle besides Jurgen and eager to get out of there in case any surviving Orks came back. The Ranger got into position behind me, settling his hands on the firing studs of the heavy bolter. From the marksmanship I'd seen from him so far, having him at the weapon made sense in case we ran into trouble. "How loaded is it?"
There was a snort of amusement and a wry grin from the sniper. "These are Orks, Slavhreenur. The ammo is empty."
….What? Suddenly I was feeling a lot less sanguine about getting into this deathtrap of a vehicle. No ammo, on the vehicle Jurgen had assured me would be the best cared for? What did that say about shocks or suspension, or more importantly fuel? Of course as I was quickly about to find out, Orks didn't believe in those first two.
"Don't worry about it, Commissar. As long as the Orks believe that they're not out of ammo, they will not run out of ammo." Jurgen assured me with confidence, finally finding a way to turn the damn thing on. The engine roared to life, sounding like someone had started up an industrial rock tumbler. "Should we take this back to the pod?" He asked me, to which I could only shrug.
"Works for me. It's large enough that maybe it has a thing or two of value we could use." I thought aloud. Jurgen then proceeded to drive in his usual fashion, and I heard several shouted expressions coming from the Ranger; I assumed that they were swears in his language. After only a couple of minutes of an admittedly bumpy ride, we were back at the pod and the Eldar staggered out with his face pale and sickly looking.
"Yes, definitely peril." He muttered, leaning against the vehicle to regain his balance. Somehow, that eased the tension I felt around him considerably, as it made him seem more human and relatable.
"You get used to it." I promised him (2), as Jurgen and I began to forage through the buggy's compartment. It felt strange to turn our backs to the Xeno, but had he wanted us dead, we would be dead. Jurgen tossed out a severed arm, and I noticed with alarm that it was both human and had every evidence of having been chewed on.
"Foragers, alright." Jurgen nodded, his earlier thoughts confirmed. "Either looking for food or scrap." He then dug a bit deeper into the Emperor damned mess of the Orkish conveyance, letting out a grunt of mild surprise. "Huh." He came out with a sheet of what I hoped was parchment. "A map."
Well that was potentially useful. "Do you think it could get us out of here?" I asked.
"Possibly. It could point us to the direction that the Imperial line is." Jurgen mused, handing me the paper which I noticed in dismay was actually CLEANER where he'd touched it. That should tell anyone who knew Jurgen, especially after weeks of being trapped in a lifepod, everything they needed to know about the state that the Orks had left their crude map in. I walked out of the buggy and over to the outside of the lifepod, where the Ranger was politely waiting.
"It's getting late. The temperature will not last." He informed us. Jurgen gained a very wide grin at this proclamation, much to the Eldar's confusion. "Why are you smiling at the prospect?"
"He's an ice worlder." I replied, and that really was all the explanation anyone familiar with Valhallans really needed. They'd stoically and dutifully sweat it out in whatever environment they found themselves in, but give them a chance at colder climates and they got as giddy as a juvie awaiting their Emperor's Day presents.
"It is truly astounding how quickly you humans adapt to anything thrown at you." The Eldar mused with a considering look. I chose to take it as a compliment, and we went about preparing for nightfall.
We set up camp just outside of the lifepod, and using some of the extra fuel cans strapped to our commandeered vehicle soon had a merry bonfire where we'd piled up the Ork corpses. We'd just 'enjoyed' some ration packs, and were sitting around the flames as if this were a pleasant camping excursion rather than a survival situation. The still unnamed Ranger was sitting opposite of the blaze from Jurgen, trying to put some small distance between himself and my aide. Though to be fair, he had apologized for his necessary standoffishness, an apology Jurgen had accepted with his typical phlegmatic outlook. Now, I figured it was a good time to get some more answers out of our unexpected compatriot.
"What is the Path of Humility, exactly?" I asked, having wondered that ever since he'd mentioned it earlier.
The Ranger chuckled, and seemed to revel in openly showing amusement. "I imagine that my actions have confused you. Not once have I called either of you mon-keigh. Not once have I said anything about you being lesser. And you haven't seen a Spirit Stone either."
That was indeed true. Every Commissar knew that the Eldar were insufferable snobs, and that the best way to get an Eldar to cooperate was to take their Spirit Stone and hold it for ransom. Sure, they'd kill you if they got the chance, but it was the only real way to ensure their compliance. Having one being this willingly helpful and informative was throwing me seriously off.
"I did notice that." I replied mildly, indicating that he should get on with his explanation.
"The Path of Humility connects us to Ynnead, the God of the Dead. Or at least, His avatar upon this plane." The Ranger began, perhaps sensing my impatience. "Before the Bargain, He had not awoken. He had no shape. No form. No thought. Just a hope, bound in the infinity circuits of the Craftworlds. But then…" He took a deep breath, a look of awed rapture on his face. "I heard it from the Farseers, and could scarcely believe my ears. After the first Oaths to the Path, Ynnead was found in the most unlikely of places. Your species' homeworld."
….What?! Did the Custodes know about this?! Hopefully they were hunting down this Xenos deity that had dared manifest upon the Cradle of Mankind(3)!
"A Xenos god on Holy Terra?" Jurgen asked, face scrunched in confusion and disbelief. The Ranger just shrugged, unperturbed by our own shock and doubt.
"I know it is hard to believe. Even I scoffed. But it was to save my soul from She Who Thirsts, something worth almost any risk, and so I took the oath not really expecting much. And then… I felt it. I felt Him." He turned his face upwards, face a tapestry of rapture and awed revelation. "Your species' God-Construct, sitting upon a throne of gold, not alive, but not yet dead. The Oath had turned him into Ynnead."
…Once again, WHAT?! The Holy Emperor was the Xenos god he was talking about?! I went completely pale when I realized it was no doubt due to my actions that this had occurred. Oh, I was definitely going to get executed for that. Turning the God-Emperor into a Xenos god was probably the ultimate form of heresy.
Seeing our dumbfounded expressions, the Xeno smirked. I would become distressingly familiar with that smirk, as Path of Humility or no, the majority of Eldar are still dicks; not malicious dicks anymore, but dicks nonetheless. With all the aplomb of a veteran storyteller, our pointy eared companion went on. "Oh, He was just as shocked as I was. When I touched His power, I felt His surprise. His words were, and I quote-"
…Wait. For a third time, WHAT?! "You heard The Emperor speak?" I squeaked out in disbelief. I mean sure, MAYBE I had spoken to the Emperor also, but that was HIGHLY doubtful. Even if He On Terra had time to spare for a Xeno, why would he have time to spare for me, especially after my damnation to daemonhood?
"Indeed."
"What did He say, in that brief moment?" Jurgen whispered, even my normally clueless aide giving the thought of hearing the God-Emperor's divine words the solemn reverence it was due.
The Ranger seemed equally taken by religious fervor, enunciating each word he said with care. "He said, 'Oh fuck here comes the next batch; not that I mind Chaos losing a few souls but- Wait, what's this?'" (4)
Jurgen and I were hanging onto every word. "Anything else?" I insisted, hoping for more words of wisdom directly from the God-Emperor. The Eldar nodded, eyes bright with tears as he continued recounting his religious conversion.
"'If this is the path I must take, then so be it. Welcome to the Imperium, don't kill humans, yada yada yada'. Then I was thrown back into my body, with a gentle string of gold tying me to Him. I cannot feel Him directly like that now, not much anyway. But it's always still there, tying me to Him and His power. Like… Like a gentle warmth surrounding my soul, a fire to keep the predators at bay."
"What does yada mean?" Jurgen wondered in awe.
"It must mean something incredibly important for the God-Emperor to repeat it thrice." I whispered, wrapping my hand around the Aquila.
The Xeno nodded firmly, eyes sharp and focused as he stared at me. "And He has blessed you greatly as well, Slavhreenur. That necklace you wear glows with His power to my senses. Was it a gift from Him?"
I turned my head down to look at it. "It… yes, it was." I replied, not saying anything more about it. Was it a gift, or a cage? Either way, I wanted it. I needed it close to me. Otherwise… otherwise… I couldn't bear to think of it. Prison or reward, gift or chains, I was grateful beyond the ability of words to convey to have the presence of the Aquila.
Again the Eldar nodded, smiling brightly. "Truly, a fine gift from Him to you, Slavhreenur. It glows with the power of the Immaterium, even when your companion is nearby."
"I imagine that he'd have to hold it himself for it to dull." I mused idly, not that I had any intentions of ever handing it over to Jurgen and risk losing its protection of my soul. The Ranger nodded eagerly again, seemingly enjoying talking with me.
"Indeed. And your bladework… I saw you tearing apart the Greenskins. I take it you are adept at swordplay?"
"I see myself as at least decent." I admitted. My sword instructor was one of the few Schola teachers that seemed satisfied with me at any rate so I suppose I wasn't terrible at least(5).
"I see. A good skill to have." The conversation kind of derailed from there, and we eventually settled in for the night, Jurgen insisting on taking the first watch as the Eldar and I sheltered within the lifepod to guard against the chill of the night.
We used the remains of the campfire and some more leftover fuel to burn the remaining Ork carcasses the next morning, which cheered my aide considerably. Jurgen had enough knowledge of the pictograms of the Orks to read the map he'd discovered. Going over it in the light of day, he scratched his head as he went over what looked like crudely daubed squiggles to me. Still, Jurgen seemed able to make sense of it. "Well, that's fortunate. The pod's first impact hit an oasis that, if I'm reading this right, was one of their camps." He mused, grinning at the thought of crushed greenskins.
"Nice shot. I couldn't have done better." The Eldar snarked, reading over my shoulder, something I was not used to(6).
"And we're there." Jurgen added, pointing to a small area a little bit away on the map. "That's where the scavengers marked themselves."
"What's that symbol?" I asked, pointing to one that had caught my eye which was only a short distance away on the map, as I sipped some recaf Jurgen had brewed and ready when I woke. Unfortunately, the pod had not included Tanna(7), so I had been forced to stick to that.
"Combat." Jurgen replied promptly before pointing out another sigil. "Oh, here's a symbol for disappearances…"
"My doing." The Ranger helpfully provided.
"Thank you." Jurgen responded with utmost sincerity; to a Valhallan, anyone who killed off Orks couldn't be all bad. "So where to, Commissar?"
"The combat area." I decided. While it was against my own survival instinct (As much as that applied to me anymore), a combat area meant that the Orks were likely fighting resistance to their rule, which meant allies.
"A wise choice, sir." Jurgen replied. "Thankfully, the buggy should be able to take us there."
I nodded thoughtfully, although I wasn't so certain; while I couldn't read the map well, it seemed like a fairly decent journey. And we'd already used the Orkish vehicle, and siphoned crude promethium from it to burn the corpses of its original owners. "Will the fuel last?"
"Just believe that the tank is always full, sir." Jurgen helpfully provided; right, more Ork nonsense. The look of sheer panic on the Ranger's face at the thought of getting back into a vehicle with Jurgen was quite hilarious, as we gathered up our supplies onto the buggy. The first priorities of course were food and water. Weapons, however, were a close second. The final thing we gathered were a few com-beads. When we finally stuffed the last lasgun into the empty seat, we took off. As I'd noted earlier, suspension was apparently alien to the Orks(8), so the ride was incredibly rough. More than once I had to grasp the Aquila to prevent it from flying off of my neck, and the first time we hit a particularly nasty bump it was mere inches from coming off. I had felt the power of the Warp reaching out, before I yanked the Aquila back down so hard that I was certain I bruised my neck. The hours drifted by as the landscape spread out before us, just endless seas of sandy dunes. I would try the com-bead every now and then, but I was still just getting static. That wasn't unexpected, given their short range, but the fact that we had driven this long and were still out of range of any Imperial forces worried me.
"How far behind the lines do you think we are?" Jurgen asked me curiously as he drove with his usual abandon.
"I don't know." I admitted, turning to the third in our little group to see if he had any thoughts regarding the matter. He just shrugged unhelpfully.
"I'm not entirely sure. I had arrived long after the place of your landing was overtaken. It could be hundreds of your kilometers, or only a few dozen."
Well, that wasn't very helpful. There wasn't much talk that day as we drove, and when night fell Jurgen estimated that we'd only gone about eighty kloms(9), which was far less than I'd have liked. But it made sense, given how weighed down we were since we'd taken absolutely everything we could scavenge from the lifepod. As we set up camp, I realized something.
"I never got your name." I told the Ranger, flushing in embarrassment at treating an ally so rudely. People who thought you didn't even care enough to know their names were far more likely to shoot you in the back after all. Fortunately, the Xenos didn't seem offended at my oversight.
"My apologies. My name is Illric Nightspear(10)." The now-named Illric replied helpfully.
"A bit on the nose there." Jurgen chuckled, pointing to Illric's sniper rifle. I shared the sentiment, as I was certain many Orks so far had been 'speared' through the head in the middle of the night from a klom away. Illric also chuckled and gave a gallant shrug.
"When you've been on the Path of the Outcast as long as I have, you just deal with it. For what it's worth, you aren't the first humans I've respected and aided." He paused, staring out into the desert with a fond yet mournful expression on his face. "I miss Sebby sometimes. Truly, a lovely man. Easy on the soul, the eyes… and…" He trailed off, a grin on his face that left no doubts as to what his next words would have been. I decided that not inquiring as to who his lover was (and whoever they were they had to have been a heretic of some kind)(11) was the best course of action. "Do you have any romantic relations, Slavhreenur?" Illric inquired in honest curiousity.
"No." I answered truthfully. I had indulged in many flings, but I hadn't settled down(12). And considering what had happened, what I was now, I found it unlikely that I ever would. No woman could possibly be worth the risk of losing control of my new nature as a Slaaneshi daemon. Of course, as I've come to learn, the Emperor acts in mysterious ways at times.
That night would be the last night in some time that I'd get a decent amount of sleep. In the morning, we were off again, and were approaching the location that the Orks had marked as an area of combat.
"What should we expect to find?" I asked Jurgen, shouting over the rumble of the engine.
"Probably a town or base. The greenskins think that everyone fights, so they'll just see civilians and assume they're soldiers." That did not paint a pretty picture in my mind. Self-serving coward and Daemon I may be, but you can't just leave civilians behind or unprotected.
"And the Eldar in the room?" I asked, turning to Illric.
"Hopefully they'll see me shooting at the Orks, and not at them. Or more likely they'll just see my work." The Ranger chuckled. Given he was a sniper, it made sense that he'd be at a longer distance and go largely unseen. As we approached the destination indicated by the map, it became obvious that it wasn't a military base but rather a town. I began to sweat heavily, and it had nothing to do with the sun. There was a layer of pain and agony here, emanating from every building I could see. What in the God-Emperor's name had the Orks done here? What atrocities had the loyal Imperial citizens living here suffered for such emotions to become literally entrenched upon their town?
"I don't like this." I declared softly. "We should stop, and go on foot. Illric? Can you get to a covering position?"
"At once." The Eldar replied obediently, nimbly sliding to the top of the buggy and getting into an expert shooter's stance. That out of the way, Jurgen and I began the trek from where we'd stopped into town. The first sign of horror was a destroyed civilian car; it had been scorched, and the bones of those inside had been strewn about.
"Refugees," Jurgen stated grimly, as we walked into the town, which I would later learn was named Prosperity Wells. It was here that I would gain a reputation among humanity, and send my fame to unheard of, and undeserved, heights throughout the Imperium. As we walked into the place, the town was obviously in ruins. I could feel the suffering that took place, after echoes in the Warp. We passed a factorium with its walls blown apart. There was little residue. Apparently those inside had died quickly, thank the Emperor for small mercies. The same could not be said for the power plant. While it was obvious that it was brought down from an internal explosion (Likely from the power source), it wasn't done in an attempt to spite the Orks. At least, considering the sheer amount of mental anguish coating the walls like a layer of sugar. More likely the machine spirits hadn't been able to contain their power, and the workers had been left to suffer helplessly as their place of labor became their tomb. Eventually, we started to come across the bodies. There were so many, mostly human, with the occasional Ork scattered in.
"Evidently the Orks didn't see them as good eating." Jurgen mused, careful not to step on the body of a woman with half of her side missing.
"Illric?" I asked through the com-bead.
"I have you in my sights… I don't see anything nearby." the Eldar called in. The idea that I wouldn't be flinging myself into cover at the idea of an Eldar sniper having me in his sights would have been laughable a mere week ago. "Wait… Gretchin. 100 meters ahead."
Upon hearing that, Jurgen and I sprinted to cover. "Anything else?" I whispered into the vox.
"One Ork. They're scavengers, judging by the cart. Shall we take care of them?"
"Commissar?" Jurgen asked, looking at me. My hand was on the amulet. I wanted to bring down righteous fire upon them. I wanted them to pay for what they had done. I… I wanted them to hurt. As I thought that, the Gretchin stopped, and started whispering in their foul language in obvious agitation. The Ork mumbled something, and frowned, holding a hand up to his head.
"Slavhreenur, what are you doing?" Illric whispered over the com-bead. "I can feel the power of the Sea of Souls coming from you; it's targeting all of them at once."
All of them at once. With that knowledge and filled with righteous indignation at what the hostile Xenos had done here, I formed a hasty plan. "Get ready." I instructed. I focused back on my anger, the desire to see the greenskins burn in agony. I could feel myself drawing on the power of the Warp. The Grots' chittering turned to open speaking and pained shouts. Even the Ork was looking like he was in considerable discomfort.
"Oi! Who'z doin' dat!?" He called out in his crude bastardization of Low Gothic; how he butchered our language just further fuelled my anger. "Stop it!"
No. No, I would not stop. Gritting my teeth, I forced more of that energy into and through myself. "Take a few steps back, Jurgen." I warned him. He did so, allowing me to fully let loose with my powers, and I clapped my hands together. I didn't know why I did so, it just felt right; and as I've come to learn, when it comes to the Warp feelings matter a great deal. And then the screaming started. It wasn't screams of 'WAAAAAAGH!'. It was screams of agony, of pure unrelenting pain. The Gretchin fell to the ground, wailing wretchedly as they scrabbled and tore at their own heads and bodies. The Ork was firing randomly, trying to hit the source of his pain, before Illric put him down. To my astonishment, I felt a small rush of energy fill me when the Ork died. Then came more shots. One by one, in quick succession, the Gretchin fell. I could feel something going into me, one after the other. It tasted like mushrooms on my tongue. Well done mushrooms, at that(13). Finally, the last greenskin dropped, and I let go of the Warp.
"I didn't know you could do that, Commissar." Jurgen stated, getting out of cover with an approving grin on his face. Again, to a Valhallan anything that hurt Orks was a good thing.
"Neither did I." I answered back, pondering the sensations I'd felt when the greenskins had died.
"Wa-t happ-d?" That was a new voice, coming over the vox! Illric quickly spoke up, indicating he was also hearing it and it wasn't just wishful thinking on my part
"Slavhreenur, I'm getting static over the com-bead. What is it?"
"There's another line here." I began fiddling with the bead, trying to widen the range and connect fully with whoever was on the other side of that transmission. "This is Commissar Cain of the Valhallan 12th Artillery regiment. Who is this?"
"-Eargant Tayber, B-vo squad." There was a lot of static. "I-perial Guard?"
"Yes. Where are you?"
"Hydr- station. What's l-ft of it. S-th sector."
I nodded, not that he could see it but the gesture came naturally. "Roger. We'll proceed with caution."
"South is the way the Gretchins came from." Damn, Illric had a point, we'd likely be walking right back into the thick of the Ork occupation. But if there were survivors still fighting, who knew the situation and where the Imperial lines were, then that was a risk we'd have to take.
"Do you think the Orks heard us?" Jurgen asked me.
"Probably. Maybe they thought that this one was just firing rounds off for fun." I hoped at least. I was tempted to just order a retreat to the buggy, but having more bodies in front of me seemed more likely to keep me alive, or at least on the material plane. "So we just need to walk through an Ork kill zone to get there. Great. Couldn't be easier." I sarcastically replied. Of course Jurgen, bless his soul, was practically immune to sarcasm and took my words seriously.
"Indeed, sir. Especially if you can pull that trick off again." I tapped the Aquila, and nearly hissed at the heat coming off of it. Jurgen noticed, giving a disappointed frown. "You're not doing it again, then?"
"Not unless I have to." I told Jurgen. That had been… a rush. And it scared me. I had caused pain, draining my power to force their nerves to fire constantly. And from that pain, I gained strength, more than I expended. It could have been an infinite loop. I hoped that I would never have to use that particular ability again.
Of course,as is so often the case in my life, I would have to make use of that ability again(14). May the God-Emperor forgive me.
From the Book of Cain(15), Chapter 2
Thusly did the Prophet come out of the desert, followed faithfully by the First Disciple and the First Convert(16). And when he beheld the workings of the debased brutes who had so desecrated the dwellings of the God-Emperor's faithful servants, he was greatly wroth. So great was his righteous anger that it reached out, and inflicted upon the invaders the same sufferings they had placed upon the faithful. And the foe did wail and gnash their teeth, tearing at their own flesh in anguish 'til they were released from their just punishment.
Thus it is said, 'Fear not when you are beset and injured by the unrighteous, for the Emperor's Wrath shall be upon them'.
With the Emperor's Judgement meted out, the Prophet turned to the cries of the faithful, and strode forth, seeking those who might be saved. For as it is said, life is the Emperor's Currency, and it must be treasured as such; this did the Prophet show in both word and deed as he went further into that den of iniquity, searching for faithful souls to rescue that they might continue to serve the Most Holy Emperor.
1: As natural psykers, Eldar have some minor abilities no matter if they are trained or not. And, as they have been, by way of the Bargain, tied to Ynnead (their name for the God-Emperor), they are usually more capable than most Sanctioned Psykers. Undoubtedly this Ranger was sensing Jurgen's driving style.
2: No, you don't.
3: Oh the irony of this statement. I imagine Ciaphas was properly horrified when he realized just WHO 'Ynnead' was. Needless to say, the Custodes were both aware and would NOT be hunting the Oathsworn Eldar's new god down.
4: Must… resist… urge… to… cry… in… jealousy…
5: The fencing instructor at the Schola Progenium Ciaphas attended was one Miyamoto de Bergerac, widely considered one of the finest swordsmen in the Imperium, period, even accounting for the likes of the Astartes. He once reportedly critiqued a veteran Astartes for 'below average swordsmanship'; the Space Marine in question was an Emperor's Champion of the Black Templars Chapter. And this man had nothing but praise, however modest or fleeting, for Cain's sword skills.
6: Eldar are a fair bit taller than the average human. Ciaphas is quite tall for a base human, so until he started to spend time around Eldar he'd have only rarely come across anyone capable of reading over his shoulder.
7: As no one in their right mind aside from Valhallans would ever drink that particular 'beverage', it only makes sense that only recaf would be supplied in a standard lifepod's stores.
8: To quote one captured Ork who I had the displeasure of speaking with, "Sus-pension iz for sissies!"
9: A Valhallan slang word for kilometer. Ciaphas picked up many habits from the Valhallans he served with, including their language.
10: From what I have gathered, Illric was separated from his usual entourage (or, in his words, fanboys), and had ended up on Perlia.
11: Cain is wrong about that. He is very, VERY wrong.
12: Yet.
13: As it turns out, souls have a taste. Additionally, it turns out Orks have souls. Both were unknown to the Imperium.
14: The Cycle of Pain is a terrifying ability that is unique to Ciaphas. In it, he causes the body to experience untold suffering, and gains energy through that suffering. Death is not a release, either, as the souls of those who die under it go to him. Truly, it is almost unbearable to witness. I shudder to imagine what it's like to actually be the target of that attack…
15: This is of course the holy book of the Cainite Sect of the Imperial Creed, written as a collaboration of Ciaphas' eventual followers.
16: The Cainitie Cult's names for Jurgen and Illric respectively. While Illric of course was not the first Eldar to take the Oath and convert to worship of the God-Emperor as Ynnead, he is considered Ciaphas' first Eldar follower and as such is referred to in this manner. As for Jurgen, he is a major figure in the Cult, second only to Ciapahs himself. Jurgen is seen as Cain's very first and most faithful follower, and is held up as an exemplar of what it means to be truly faithful and obedient amongst those who see Ciaphas as a religious figure. As always, the idea that a Daemon Prince is so lauded amongst the faithful is ironic and somewhat concerning.