As we penetrated deeper into the Slaaneshi sanctum located within what had been a floating mineral dredger, the butchered corpses of the worshippers of the Dark Whore became more and more frequent. Nearly every step taken by our mixed party of Guardsmen was spent either side-stepping or stepping over some piece of gore or dismembered body part. I'm glad it was Grifen's squad with me and not Lustig's former squad; I could just see the now Sergeant Penlan planting a foot in a puddle of viscera and skidding down the hall right into a boobytrap or faceplanting into a pool of contaminated blood. There was a reason the troopers called her "Jinxie". Evidently the Slaaneshi Cultists were trying (and mostly failing by the looks of things) to halt the World Eaters' advance forwards- giving their cursed lives away freely in protecting something their excess-addled minds saw as precious and worth sacrificing for. The possibilities of what would be worth standing against Traitor Astartes for were slim, and every one I could imagine threatened to freeze the blood in my veins faster than a Valhallan winter could out of sheer terror.
I moved closer to the aura of Jurgen's miasma, his unique ability protecting me a bit more from the rampant energy I could feel thrumming through the steel walls we traversed through. The cultists had obviously taken their forces from the outer lines of their defensive perimeter to stem the onslaught of the Khornate Marines, but all that did was allow Imperial forces a chance to advance themselves. I had ordered them to go slowly and methodically through the corridors- odds are, that if the daemon that I had seen appeared again, all that would happen would be that the soldiers would be devoured by it. This left myself uncharacteristically forward of the lines, but I refused to sacrifice my reputation of caring for the troops if I could avoid it. And as much as I really wanted to commandeer a shuttle and make for orbit away from this (hopefully not yet literally) damned world, I knew my best chance was to go straight at the problem rather than run from it. Our only real hope was Jurgen and his ability to negate the Warp. But failing that… I clutched the golden Aquila I wore around my neck, whispering prayers to the God-Emperor. (1)
"So now you find your faith?" That odious toad Beije accused in a croaked whisper, still needling me and trying to damn me before the eyes of our collected soldiers. I'd be damned further if I knew why he was so focused on trying to 'prove' me a traitor or coward; while I certainly was the latter not that I let anyone know it, I had never for a moment willingly been the former. I'd have thought that my new piety would have pleased the little Emperor-botherer, but he'd been glued to my back maliciously ever since we'd encountered each other again for the first time since the Schola.
"I've always been faithful to the God-Emperor," I spat back truthfully, far more truthfully than this petty little man could ever comprehend. Beige for all of his supposed righteousness had no idea of what I had endured in the Emperor's name. That seemed to shut him up for the moment, and we continued to advance rapidly but cautiously lest we stumble into the backs of the rampaging World Eaters.
Almost as if thinking of them had summoned one from the Immaterium, we slammed to a halt at the sight of one of the Traitor Marines dragging his broken superhuman body feebly down the hall towards the same direction we were heading. Apparently, one of the Traitors had been wounded enough to be left behind by his fellows. His advanced hearing easily caught the sound of our footsteps on the metal plating, as the gasping Astartes flipped himself over and held his upper body aloft to face us. The trembling in his arms, clad in cracked ceramite plates, showed just how much effort even this simple task took. Blood flowed freely from enormous rents and holes in his armor, obviously the work of heavy weaponry, and I marveled at how he was still alive. Beije raised his pistol shakily at the sight of the wounded Traitor, but I held up a hand.
"Let me," I requested calmly. My fellow Commissar grumbled, but nodded grudgingly towards the pile of devastated armor and superhuman muscle and sinew; obviously my old schoolmate hoped to have me die at the hands of this wounded Chaos-worshiping Astartes. Well, I'd regretfully have to disappoint him. Showing no hesitation, I approached the Traitor Marine, and locked eyes with him through the shattered lenses of his helmet. As I came closer, his arms stopped struggling to hold his torso up and he gently laid himself back onto the floor. His breathing grew thinner, but less labored, more even. By the time I stood above his prostrate form, the World Eater seemed to be in no pain even as he lay slowly dying, bewildered yet clear eyes staring at me.
"The Nails…" he whispered in disbelieving shock. At the time I had no true knowledge of what he was talking about, but I knew why he was so seemingly relaxed now. Solemnly, I held my golden Aquila out over him, chain still around my neck. (2)
"Do you repent?" I asked him in a soft, compassionate voice as if I were addressing a wounded animal; in many respects, I was.
"What?" he whispered again in even greater incredulity, as if his gene-wrought ears had misheard me.
"What!?" Beije exclaimed at almost the same time, far louder than a whisper and utterly incensed; I didn't spare him a glance but I could imagine his eyes being as wide as any berserker's and spittle frothing from his lips.
"Do you repent of your sins, rejecting the Dark Powers, and request that The Emperor grant you mercy?" I asked the Traitor again. A moment of indecision, and then the Marine's arm reached upwards for the Aquila- almost pitifully, in fact. I lowered my arm just enough so that his outstretched fingers could just barely brush against the metal of the double-headed eagle symbol without getting close enough to let him grab it and pull me in. But treachery and violence seemed far from his mind as he stared at the symbol of the Imperium in awe, fingertips touching it with reverence.
"I… I can't feel them…" he whispered, other hand gesturing weakly at his helmeted head. Another moment passed as he stared at where his fingers met the gold of the Aquila, before he gave a miniscule nod which had no strength behind it but was filled with conviction. "I… I repent…"
"Do you want me to grant you the Emperor's Peace?" I asked him in the manner the very best priests I had known would, smiling kindly. Honestly this was taking longer than just killing the injured Traitor Marine would have, and every second right now was precious. Still, I knew deep within that this was right, that every soul deserved a chance at redemption. I had to believe that, I just had to for my own sake at the very least.
"Please… I don't want to feel the bite again…" He carefully removed his helmet, taking his hand away from its touch upon the Aquila to do so, revealing a scarred face with wicked cabling going into the shaved scalp before closing his eyes in an expression of peaceful acceptance. I resolutely put my laspistol between them, barrel pressed gently yet firmly against the scarred flesh, yet paused. Before I pulled the trigger, I spoke; this was once one of the Emperor's Angels, he deserved what dignity I could give him.
"What is your name, Astartes?" He blinked his eyes open again, shocked anew, then closed his eyes again in deep thought, straining to even recall his name. Finally he gave another small nod, and with what strength he had left pressed his forehead even more firmly against the end of my laspistol, ensuring that the lasbolt would do its job. His voice was calm, accepting of his fate, and I got the feeling that this was the first time in his over ten thousand years of life that he had known peace. "My name is Hektor. Hektor of the World Eaters Legion, of the Twelth. Legionnaire of the Great Crusade, survivor of the damned Heresy. I won't ask your name mortal, but you have my thanks. Now please…. Do your duty before the Nails bite once more."
I breathed in deeply, then exhaled as I slowly applied pressure to my trusty laspistol's trigger. "Then, Hektor of the World Eaters, may The Emperor grant you mercy, and with your repentance accept you at His side." I intoned solemnly, then added that final bit of pressure to the trigger, shooting him right between the eyes. His upturned head fell back, laying upon the deck plating, a smoking crater in his forehead. Yet what most caught my attention was the smile on his face, and I knew with everything within me that his soul was finally at peace after countless centuries of war and suffering.
Of course, the solemn moment had to be interrupted by Beije, puffed up with self importance and indignation but really only making himself look even more like a bloated toad. "How dare you-"
"Do you not see this?!" I exclaimed, holding the golden Aquila up, clenching at the artifact as if my life depended on it; I knew of course far more than that relied upon that seemingly unimportant bit of metal. "The Emperor grants His mercy in more ways than The Emperor's Peace!" I shouted with all the fervor of a street preacher, before collecting myself. "And on a practical level… we didn't have to fight him this way." The Tallarns looked at each other, my logic apparently sinking in despite the fact that they were supposed to be on Beije's side. Margot nodded, satisfied with my logic and happy to back up HER Commissar.
"Better that he let the Traitor die peacefully then have us be at risk," she pointed out.
"Fine," Beije spat, marching on ahead of us with his affronted supposed dignity worn like a cloak. I wondered a moment about letting him go forwards alone, but I quickly dismissed the thought as I began to rapidly stride forward, my longer legs overtaking Beijie's own pace easily. It would doubtless be for the best if Jurgen and I went first. While this would normally be against my own base instincts and my finely honed sense of self-preservation, this was more important than my normal cowardice. As the only two amongst our band who I knew for certain had faced the powers of Slaanesh before, only Jurgen and I could warn and protect the others. As I overtook my erstwhile counterpart, I picked up the pace further, all but sprinting. The hairs on the back of my neck were beginning to stand on end, and my palms were tingling; I was familiar with both symptoms far more than I'd like, signs that my senses had detected approaching peril. We had to get to the center of this heresy and end whatever ritual the Cultists were doing now before it was too late. A little voice at the back of my head said that it already was probably too late, but I ignored it, as always taking the slightest chance I could of defying fate and preserving my wretched existence.
"Running away?!" Beije mocked at my back even as he huffed between words while running after me; he'd never been the best at the Schola's athletic courses, ensuring his own advancement with copious brownnosing.
Regardless, I didn't have time for his petulance as I snapped back at him over my shoulder, maintaining my rush forwards as I urged the others to follow me. "Running towards it! We don't have much time!" If worse came to worst… I clutched my Aquila, and looked at Jurgen knowingly.
"I can keep it safe, sir," he promised me solemnly.
"Thank you, Jurgen," I replied, shoulders sagging in relief. And I knew he would. Jurgen would far sooner die than allow anything to happen to what he well knew was my dearest possession, dearer than even my trusted laspistol and chainsword. More than anybody, I knew I could rely on good old, dependable Jurgen; he really never got nearly enough credit for all that he did for me and through that service the Imperium. I trusted him more with my safety and wellbeing than I even trusted myself, and he proved why as he showed his concern. Not for himself of course, but for me, unworthy as I was of such loyalty and devotion.
"Sir… do you think it will… be necessary?" he asked hesitantly. I couldn't blame him, he was the only other one there that knew what my final card to play was and what it might cost me. Throne on Terra, I really hoped I didn't have to play that card. For all that I enjoyed games of chance, I was never comfortable betting with the lives of others, let alone my own life and soul.
"By The Emperor… I hope not," I whispered, making the sign of the Aquila one handed in the hopes that He heard my fervent plea while keeping the other hand tight on my still drawn pistol. We raced through an open area heavy with the signs of brutal conflict, where another Traitor Marine lay ripped in half and surrounded by the equally mutilated corpses of the Slaanesh-lovers. A repurposed power-lifter was evidence of how the mere mortal madmen had accomplished such a feat, and I quickly put a lasbolt through the eye of the vehicle's operator. There would be no offers of the Emperor's Mercy here, we had no time. Our combined squads tore through the surviving cultists, pushing through the assembled mob and into what had been a Mechanicus shrine. Sweat was pouring from my brow and my teeth were clenched tight enough I could taste blood in my mouth. We were almost there, and the proximity of the ritual's center was taking its toll on my body and will.
"Sir…" Jurgen whispered, concerned.
"Just stay close to me," I commanded through gasped breaths, as I shakily grasped the golden Aquila once more. We were through the cultists' lines and had a direct shot at whatever they were doing. However, most of the team had to stay behind to hold off the converging numbers of drugged up psychopaths coming in from further down the Slaaneshi perimeter. I ordered them to stay there to provide covering fire, to buy us time; that, and they didn't know of Jurgen's ability… or my own desperate last resort. The Valhallans, bless their souls, did so without hesitation even though technically I was no officer to give them orders, just the political officer there to see that they didn't shirk their duty. Beije was, unfortunately, still on that kick of his, and ordered his remaining men to stay with him as he followed Jurgen and myself. This was bad for a variety of reasons, both for the members of my regiment that had to pick up the slack that the Tallarns were leaving them and for Beijie and his men themselves. Still there was no time to argue, no time to change strategies, no time to debate where their duties lay, no time to ensure their safety, there was NO TIME. Then we entered the innermost sanctum, and my stomach dropped right into my boots at what greeted us.
"Throne on Terra!" Beije shouted in obvious terror, and for once, I agreed with the odious little toad. We had gotten closer to the center of this madness, and now there were far more signs and symbols dedicated to the results of the Eldar's galactic fuck up. Each twisted sigil, many of them daubed in blood or other fluids, was blasting insanity-inducing waves of psychic energy.
"Don't look!" I shouted to the damned idiots who'd followed me into a situation only Jurgen and I were in any way prepared for. It was too late for one of the Tallarn soldiers, who collapsed on the desecrated floor like a puppet deprived of its guiding strings, balling up into a fetal position as he began to bleed from the eyes and scream his vocal cords raw reciting The Emperor's Benediction. God-Emperor damn it, the fool had gotten himself into this mess and I had far more important things taking my attention. But still, I was compelled to show compassion for this loyal servant of the Throne whose only crime was following Beije's shortsighted orders. So I sent the only person there who could help him, thus depriving myself of the only one there I could rely on. "Jurgen. Help him."
For once, my aide hesitated to do something I'd told him to do. "But sir…"
"Just do it!" I ordered, shaking as he finally left my side, taking his special ability with him. The Tallarn began to calm down as Jurgen helped him up. I focused on the Traitor Marines carving a bloody swath through the cultists gathered in that massive chamber who still chanted even as they were murdered, and tried to fight my rising nausea. (3)
Then I stumbled, and in the depths of my soul I knew that we'd delayed too long. "She comes! She comes!" a hundred ecstatic voices called out in twisted rapture, as the power of the Warp flowed through the room.
"Frak this!" I snarled, taking shots at the ritual etchings in desperation even as my hand shook and sweat poured into my eyes. Then everything went still, and I heard it. The sum of all my recent nightmares realized.
"Ahh, Ciaphas… how nice to see you again," a disturbingly familiar voice called out in a seductive manner, echoing through the vast ritual chamber.
No. No no no no no. Maybe if I said that to myself enough, it would become true. If only denial of reality worked in that way.
"This… this is sorcery most foul…" Beijre whimpered. From the smell of it, he'd lost control of his bladder in instinctive animal fear. Not that I could blame him, as I knew far better than he did just how frakked we were.
"It's worse than that… it's a summoning," I snarled, as several cultists bodies began to melt like wax from a devotional candle left burning for too long. That same intoxicatingly feminine laughter filled the air, as a form began to take shape in the hovering mass of flesh. It was beautiful and terrifying, all my desires and fears forming before my eyes. "Jurgen…" I called out to where he was standing with the afflicted trooper.
"Got it," he said, dragging Stoch- I believed that was what Beije had called the Tallarn Jurgen was by at any rate- with him to the rest of the group. Bejie was away from the squad, out of formation and paralyzed as the ball of melted flesh finally coalesced into a lithe, feminine figure twice the size of even the Traitor Astartes which had very, very familiar features.
All of my nightmares came true at once. A face and scent and voice which had all haunted and tormented me for years. Unconsciously my fingers tightened around the Aquila as I gave a name to the source of all my fears and hatred.
"Emeli," I spat, the name leaving my lips with the sort of virulence that would make the Plague God weep in envy.
The manifested Daemon Princess giggled, hand held to her mouth like she'd just been told some juicy piece of gossip at a noble's ball. "I told you I'd return, you ravishing, foolish man," she drawled out enticingly, pacing around the remaining worshippers and devouring their souls with light and brief caresses. I watched intently, shivering even harder, the Aquila biting into my palm as I clutched at it being the only thing centering me. It was all I could do to keep focused as I sweated and shook like a ganger junkie forced clean and then being presented with a veritable buffet of narcotics, the energies of the Warp tangible to even those not cursed to be a Psyker. I could only imagine what the Navigators in orbit thought of the sight down here on the planet, as I had no doubt the powers invoked reached even beyond the atmosphere.
"This was to get me here, wasn't it?" I asked, trying to keep my voice steady and concealing the excess of gibbering rage and bowel-clenching terror I was feeling right now. "The nightmares… the rituals…"
"Nightmares?" Beije murmured, mindless fear overridden for a moment by renewed suspicion as his eyes snapped back to me. Glad to see he still had his priorities straight. Emeli ignored him, focused entirely on me as she beamed her charmingly seductive smile as if I'd solved a clever riddle. Her hands stretched out, as if she wished to embrace me, while she cooed like a delighted spouse given a gift.
"Oh indeed. I wanted you to be here, Ciaphas. To show you what I have become… what you threw away."
Well, there was only one way to respond to THAT statement. "I had the option of saving a planet or personal power. I chose the planet," I declared while I glared at her with the sort of venom you only heard about in stories of fauna native to Catachan. "And choosing the other option would have damned me."
"Oh no, Ciaphas… it would have freed you," she said chidingly as she came to be before me, staring down at me with amusement… and oh dear, that was affection. "But your actions did not go unnoticed. Thanks to my service, when the Prince took my soul, he rewarded me. So in a way, I have all this thanks to you." Great, a deluded Daemon Princess that was obviously obsessed with me. Someone somewhere was surely getting a huge laugh out of the farce that my life continued to be. If only it were the biggest joke the universe enjoyed at my expense…
"Heretic…" Beije whispered, fingers twitching over his laspistol. Of all the dunderheaded things… He was still focused on me when there was a literal Daemon RIGHT THERE?! Emeli wasn't the only one obsessed it seemed.
"A friend of yours?" Emeli asked, barely acknowledging my unwelcome hanger on.
"Honestly, no," I replied, hoping that since the Tallarns were now a little less paralyzed, they wouldn't begin to wonder why I hadn't been affected as they had been by Emeli's presence(4). "As much as I'd like him out of my hair, damnation isn't something I think he deserves."
Emeli let out another coquettish giggle as she glided over to tower above Beije, looking him over as one might examine a cheap bauble. "Hmmm… you're right. A drab, dreary, idiot of a man. Your Emperor can have him. He'll probably throw him to the Plague God anyways." She turned around, careful not to touch him. I decided to not ask any more questions in that direction lest she return her attention to the other Commissar and change her mind about sucking out his soul. The downside of this of course was that I once more had her undivided attention. "But you… your soul almost shines… you had Ascension in your grasp… but you gave it away for my home."
"I didn't know that Soulstone held the one soul your boss wanted the most," I replied evenly, trying to present myself as being reasonable and logical about all of this. In other words for a Slaaneshi daemon, boring. "Only that she wanted it. The parlay was effective." Too effective in some ways if you asked me; sadly nobody ever had as far as my destiny went.
Emeli frowned, perhaps the first sign of displeasure expressed towards me. "And you made him promise to leave the world alone for eternity (5)… but such a vow doesn't apply here. I'll do what I wanted to do there… and with these sacrifices…"
"What are you plotting?" I snarled, wishing I could just reach out and strangle this creature that saw damning a whole world as a GOOD thing.
"Not plotting- nearly achieved. This planet will become my realm- and beyond that, it will be half in and half out of the Warp, creating a massive portal. The entire sector will become my domain." So, it was as bad as I'd feared.
"Not if we banish you," I spat, raising my laspistol, willing my shaking to subside as I aimed right at that damned, annoyingly cute nose of hers. To my surprise, Emeli just laughed.
"It's too late, dear Ciaphas," she cooed, kneeling down and peering at me from inches away. "This world is now the Prince's, and he decides who controls it."
Frak. Frak frak frak. My fists began to shake in rage. "You… you bitch…" I seethed, teeth bared in an expression of pure loathing and hatred. Damn her! She was right, I could FEEL it. The Warp was positively pulsating, and in a heartbeat the whole world would be consumed by it. I was out of options.
"Oh, the naughty words already?" she teased, fluttering her lashes at me. She took a few steps back, and threw open her arms in triumph. "See how it is, Cain! You cannot stop me!"
"You're wrong," I growled out, holding the Aquila in both of my hands now, gripping it so hard that if it weren't so sturdy my fingertips would be imprinted in it. "I can stop this."
My last card. A final gamble. A desperate roll of the dice.
Emeli craned her head back, barking out a disbelieving laugh. "Hah! A mortal?!"
"Jurgen? Catch." I threw the priceless amulet across the room, silently asking forgiveness for treating it so, and Jurgen handily caught it. His status nullified any lingering effects it might have now that it was off of me immediately.
In an instant, the presence in the room doubled, the tides of the Warp rising and frothing ever higher.
Emeli's eyes widened and darted around in confusion, then narrowed when she focused back on me. "What are you doing?" she hissed, any hint of seduction erased by her confused anger. Well, I was equally pissed off at her if not justifiably moreso, so I reveled in telling her just how badly she had frakked up by pushing me into a corner.
"When I made that bargain… I thought I was saved. That my soul would be out of HER reach. I was wrong." I flexed, not anything as mundane as my muscles but my soul, that shining beacon that Emeli had barely glimpsed through my Aquila's protections. The projections which contained it, contained my full power, contained ME. Immediately, the spell that was binding the Tallarns, Beije included, broke like the gossamer webs of a tiny Agriworld arachnid before the charge of an infuriated grox. They were no longer ensorcelled by Emeli; rather, they were under MY sway now. I continued my explanation as if nothing had happened. "Her offer still stood, unfortunately." The Warp energy of the room began to flow around me and into me, coming to me like a juvenile canine eager for head pats. Any Psyker present would have been blinded by it, by the sight of the sheer amount of power going into me; Emeli certainly felt it as she wailed in denial.
"No… no no no! That's not fair! It's not it's not it's not!" she howled. "I did all the work! It's mine! Mine mine mine!" I could admit to finding dark amusement in the normally refined and alluring Daemon Princess throwing a fit worthy of a particularly spoiled toddler.
"What sorcery is this?!" Beije shouted at me, pulling up his pistol; obviously a rhetorical question that he'd already come to his own conclusions about as he didn't wait for an answer before firing. The lasbolt flew true despite Beije's shit aim, scoring a direct hit against my jaw, but my flesh writhed as the fools used to create Emeli's body had, and healed itself instantly.
"Call your patron, Emeli," I spat, my outrage palpable both through my voice and through its resonations within the Warp. "You brought me here. You wanted me here. Well, you got me." And oh how I intended to make this dumb bitch regret that. I reached out with my power, not even needing to make physical contact like Emeli had, and roughly yanked the souls of the damned cultists out. Her theft of their souls had been a caress, the toying of a selfish yet gentle lover. Mine in comparison was like getting used as a tackling dummy for an entire professional scrumball team before being tossed headfirst into an Underhive sump pit; I made certain that the heretics that had brought Emeli here in the first place felt every bit of the pain they had earned. Let's see how they enjoyed the OTHER side of what it meant to be Slaaneshi.
"But… but you threw it away…" Emeli whimpered, moving back in genuine fear. Now she was the cornered animal. Still a predator to be sure, but realizing that she'd poked a far larger one awake.
"I did. But I got it anyway," I sighed, feeling the power flowing through me. I hated how good it felt. I hated it so much, and longed for the return of my Aquila. Best to go ahead and get this over with. Since Emeli wouldn't woman up and call her oh so beloved deity, I suppose it was left to me. My tone was flat and monotone, showing just how little I cared to be calling upon this particular entity. "Slaanesh. There seems to be a disagreement over ownership of this world."
"You're bluffing! Somehow, you're bluffing!" Emeli was panicking, looking around with eyes near popping out of her horned skull in panic..
"He's not." A new voice entered the fray. I grit my teeth as I extended my influence over the humans in the room, blocking their senses from the sight before me; even the barest hint would be enough to either damn their souls or destroy their sanity, if not both. Emeli knelt, prostrating herself in debased adoration mixed with terror. I remained standing; there was only one being in the galaxy I knelt before, and this was not Him. The voice, heavy with the promise of delights eternal and perverse, continued to creep both into my ears and my soul. "Ciaphas… I missed you." A figure stepped through a sudden purple colored rift in reality into this tainted place. It was similar to that of an Eldar female, insofar as Saint Celestine was similar to an Underhive gutter whore. Jurgen, who was in no need of my protection and would have nullified them anyway, blinked in what looked like mild surprise. (6)
"Sir… is that what I think it is?" he asked me languidly, as if he was inquiring whether or not the mess hall would be serving actual food as opposed to the usual soylent veridiens. .
"Yes, Jurgen," I replied, resigned to this.
"What?! Who's that?! Who's talking!?" Beije screamed helplessly, firing more rounds uselessly into me. I ignored them entirely; honestly the crimson bolts of energy didn't even tickle.
"A bit rude, isn't he? Inconsiderate too," Slaanesh mused as she watched Beije making a valiant effort to unload the entire power pack of his laspistol into me. I mentally conceded that the Fourth Chaos God had a point, though she was forgetting stupid and removed from any ability of pattern recognition. Still on the floor, eyes downturned, Emeli began to beg for her so-called Dark Prince's intervention on her behalf.
"My Prince, I implore-" A single raised finger was her response, causing her words to cut off as though someone had ripped out her vocal cords.
"Shush," Slaanesh told Emeli with complete disinterest, all of their senses focused on me. "What is the disagreement?"
I shrugged, as if it should be obvious what the dispute was even as I began to grow both physically and with my presence in the Warp. "Simple. Who gets this world? Which Daemon Prince or Princess, me or Emeli, gets to decide the fate of the planet?"
1: I have always been fascinated by the fact that these prayers never burned Ciaphas.
2: From what Cain has told me, this was mostly done to look like he wasn't using his power to force the World Eater's brain chemistry to feel normal pleasure and pain, bypassing the Nails- even if he didn't know what they were, he was trying to make the World Eater feel something other then rage.
3: Ciaphas has told me that being force-fed souls is… distressing for a palate, or at least that's the case in his unique experience. And this is coming from a… being that downs Tanna by the barrel.
4: Daemons from the same Patron are naturally immune to the powers of other foul sorceries from their patron.
5: Following this incident, Slawkenburg has become a training ground for Psykers, and the population of those able to perform their abilities has increased, as well as their strength. Additionally, more Radical members of the Inquisition have started bringing cursed artifacts to the world for study in a safe environment.
6: I have asked Jurgen what he sees of The Dark Prince. In his words, he sees, "A nervous young Eldar woman, constantly fidgeting and stammering as she tries futilely to say things correctly, like a virginal and inexperienced Schola student trying to say things to her crush."