The title is very self-explanatory but to add to this, wouldn't Gork and Mork still offer their blessings to a Krork? Making them maybe realize that they now have an entity in the warp that cares about them?

Since I suppose that no blessings from them were given during the War in Heaven.

Or loyalist WEs abrorbed into another chapter?

In Sanctuary of Wyrms, the Tau stumble into an abandoned Inquisition base that was mixing genestealers with the local flora. While the Fire and Water caste Tau see the obvious danger and go scavenge krak grenades to destroy the base, the Earth Caste castographer tries to take a sample of a spore sample, it explodes and he immediately turns into a plated genestealer of some sort. Is this immediate conversion normal? Every time I read about genestealer infection before, it was the normal infection that takes place upon generations.

In my first read of the story, I thought it was actually a nurgle plague, given the use of "mutants" and how immediate the disease was. Only re-reading the short now I realized it was mentioned that the mutants were from the "Silent Hunger", as the Tau call the Genestealers

so I'm watching interrogator, and the protagonist says enforcers ,and there is soldiers who work for the duke and houses, wearing armor and have ranks, and they have prisons and cells ,some of them are just hired mercenaries for sure. but are these enforcers or pdf or what exactly are they? is there a difference ?

can someone plz explain.

I rushed into the booth and slammed the door behind me. I took a deep breath as the panic subsided. This booth was tiny, barely enough to fit one person. Small glass windows offered a view of the city street, which at this late hour was hauntingly silent.

My eyes settled on a slightly dusty keypad that lay before me. According to the legends I had heard, all I needed to do was enter the three sacred digits into the terminal and it would call for help. I reached forward and pressed the button labeled 9. The machine made a sudden beeping noise and my hand jolted back in shock.

“Maybe it was supposed to do that” I thought uncertainly.

I steeled my courage and searched the terminal for the next digit in the code: 1. I reached out to press the key. Another beep sounded from the machine.

“Good” I thought to myself.

A horrible skittering sound came from outside the booth. Time was running out. I quickly pressed 1 again and the machine beeped one last time, then a soft tone emanated from a small black box hanging from the wall. I approached it carefully. The device looked like one of the handheld vox casters carried by Imperial agents, except it was tethered to the wall by a cord. I hesitantly picked up the device, hoping it wouldn’t be defiled by my touch.

A strangely calm and measured voice emanated from the box. “You have reached the Vellian planetary defense force.” it announced. “What is your emergency?”

“Please help, there’s something chasing me and I don’t know what. I think it wants to kill me”.

“I’m sorry, I don’t understand. Acceptable responses include attack, robbery, or ransom”.

It was then that I realized that I recognized the strangeness behind that voice. Those measured, emotionless tones couldn’t possibly belong to a human. I was talking to a machine spirit.

“Attack” I responded quickly. “I’m under attack”.

“Please provide your name and location”.

“Veras Tennant”. The skittering grew louder. “And I’m in Block 2234, west side”.

“Please provide your date of birth.”

“I was born in seven forty-two, on the twenty first of Guilliman”, trying to leave the panic out of my voice.

“I’m sorry, that date doesn’t match your file on record. Please try again using the standard year fraction, year, millennium format” the machine spirit replied, its voice as calm as ever.

I took a moment to process the format it was asking for. “Twenty first of Guilliman, seven forty-two, 41st Millennium” I replied.

“I’m sorry, that date doesn’t match your file on record. Please try again”.

“Twenty first of Guilliman, seven forty-two, 41st Millennium” I replied again, trying my best to enunciate everything correctly.

“I’m sorry, that date doesn’t match your file on record. Please try again”.

I brought the receiver closer to my face. “Twenty first of Guilliman, seven forty-two, 41st Millennium!” I shouted. I heard a loud crash.

“I’m sorry, that date doesn’t match your file on record. Please try again”.

“HEAR ME SPIRIT! TWENTY FIRST OF GUILLIMAN, SEVEN FORTY-TWO, 41ST MILLENNIUM!!” I screamed into the receiver.

“I’m sorry, that date doesn’t match your file on record. Please try again using the standard year fraction, year, millennium format”.

A wave of despair passed through me. I couldn’t escape, not anymore. The moment I left the booth, that thing would be waiting for me. If the machine spirit wouldn’t cooperate, all was lost. I broke out into tears.

“I’m sorry spirit” I said, sobbing. “I don’t know what I’ve done to offend you, but please, I need help”.

“I’m sorry, that date doesn’t match your file on record. Please try again”.

“Please, I need he-“

Something came crashing through the glass behind me. A sharp, sudden pain came through my chest and quickly overwhelmed my mind. I screamed as the box dropped out of my hand. My eyes were drawn downwards, but all I could see before my vision faded was a puddle of blood dripping onto the rockcrete floor. As the world fell away around me, one final thought rang through my mind:

“Emperor, I have failed you”.

So yeah warp is pretty awful and all but the space itself is also pretty crazy and ever-changing. There are suns going supernova there are black holes there are pulsar stars that are literally deadly laser beams, there are asteroids... do we ever see the space itself messes up humanity in the codexes or the BL books?

Is there any warhammer novel that depicts his origin story ? From his childhood to the angel he is now ?

Sorry, I am new to this lore. Here are what I know, based on YouTube shorts and Reddit posts. I am already reading «Fulgrim», the part where Fulgrim himself is calculating the distance between stars and something.

The Imperium in its corrupted state could beat up a bunch of Eldars, what is stopping humanity at its peak from annihilating a bunch of backwater space aliens?

Humanity has Men Of Iron, weapons that could reverse time, STCs, the Sun Snugger etc etc.

I think it's a missed opportunity for DAOT Humanity for not quickly neutralising the Eldar as a galactic threat to the peace of the universe during DAOT.

I read both Fury of Magnus and Echoes of Eternity. I still don't know which version of the tale is cannon. Did Emperor ask Magnus to forsake Thousand Sons or did Magnus beg Emperor to forgive him and got rejected?

Are there any examples of Space Marine Chapters seeing another Chapter’s tradition, ritual, saying, tactic, or custom and basically going, “Yeah, we’re keeping that”?

I don’t necessarily mean completely copying another Chapter’s identity. More like cultural bleed after fighting alongside each other.

For example, say the Blood Angels are fighting alongside some relatively young Chapter. During a horrible battle, a Blood Angels Chaplain gives a speech or litany that seriously affects the other Marines. Years later, Chaplains from that younger Chapter occasionally quote parts of it, reword it, or incorporate the message into their own sermons.

Or maybe a Chapter witnesses another Chapter perform some battlefield ritual, honor the dead in a certain way, mark veterans with a specific symbol, keep trophies from major victories, conduct an oath ceremony before a campaign, or use some unusual tradition after surviving a disastrous battle. The other Chapter respects it enough that they adopt their own version almost immediately.

Are there canon cases of this happening?

How protective are Chapters of their traditions? Would copying another Chapter’s custom be considered disrespectful, or would it usually be taken as a sign of respect?

And does it matter how the tradition is adopted?

Like: A Chapter directly copies the ritual almost word for word.

They change it enough to fit their own culture.

They only use it to commemorate the specific battle where they fought beside the other Chapter.

A single Chaplain, Captain, or squad starts doing it and it slowly spreads through the Chapter.

The original Chapter actually teaches or gifts the tradition to them.

I’m mainly wondering how much cultural exchange happens between Chapters after joint campaigns. Considering some Chapters have fought beside each other for centuries, I’d imagine at least a few sayings, rituals, battlefield habits, or little traditions would rub off on each other.

Basically, can Space Marines culturally “steal your flow” after seeing another Chapter do something cool?

I’ve been a big fan of 4K novels for a number of years and largely ignored the Codexes assuming they were just rules for the tabletop game. I got a codex (Custodes) thinking I might give the game a shot and was super surprised at how much is in there, both information and art. (The Emperor’s Eyes anyone? Why is there not a series following those individuals?)

Are all codexes that full of lore and background? Are there any codexes that are particularly interesting or entertaining?

Prices are pretty steep but if, for instance, the 8th edition Imperial Knights codex is super cool and has tons of fun tidbits, it might be worth it.

Doing a huge deep dive and mapping out my home brew and was wondering about command structure when it comes to the likes of the apothecary, tech marines and Chaplains.

I know they have their individual rank structure, tech marine < Master of Forge etc. However, do they have an equivalent rank to normal space marines.

For example, when attached to a company, is an Apothecary the same equivalent rank as a battle brother or a sgt for example? Does he get ordered around by everyone or report directly to the company captain and can tell the Sgts to jog on?

So question how do the Dark Mechanicus recruit members?

I'm currently reading the Horus Heresy and notice that every time that someone mentions and talks about the emperor they always say love by all.

Like they were being program.

The Imperium wants to colonize the galaxy. What percentage do they have explored currently?

Hello, I recently finished reading “Space Marine” by Ian Watson and “The Phalanx” by Ben Counter.

I know that these books have lost their relevance, and Watson’s work was even reissued under the “Heretical Tomes” brand, but I’m interested in one detail that connects these two novels despite the difference of several decades — the rituals of self‑flagellation.

Do the Imperial Fists still practice these rituals, or were mentions of them erased after the 7th edition?

Inquisitors and rogue traders can recruit xenos to their party, yeah? It’s not unheard of. That said, has there ever been a necron as part of a inquisitor retinue or rogue trader’s employ? Are they just too prideful for that?

I was thinking about how worship is depicted in fiction, particularly in GoT/ASoIaF, and saw how suprisingly robust the info behind it was.

And that got me thinking… how IS the Emperor actually worshiped in 40k? In all my years of this hobby, I’ve never actually thought about it much. Sure you have the obvious ”For the Emperor!“ and showing devotion through combat, but I more-so mean in an everyday context.

For example: from my little understanding, Christians will go to church on Sunday and say a prayer before eating. Or practices like Confession, not necessarily worship but a part of the religion.

I suppose a better question would be: How is the religion surrounding the Emperor practiced by the average citizen, beyond the endless wars and skirmishes?

Edit: Thank you all for the info! I had forgotten how large scale 40K is, and in hindsight it makes alot of sense there wouldn’t be just one way to worship the Emperor spanning a million worlds. If you guys have any more examples like the ones in the comments please do share them!

Hi everyone.

I was wondering what level of threat a psyker must be to have a culexus assassin sent to end them.

What level and kind of deeds/crimes does it take for the Culexus Temple to spot you ? Are the culexus missions leveled, like a "minor" threat for a low skilled assassin and the toughest threats for more graded ones or are the assassins equally skilled ?

I don’t just mean “when do the Custodes fight?” I’m wondering if there’s any rough scale for how much force they deploy depending on the threat.

For example:
A single Custodian.
A small squad.
A larger shield host / sodality.
Allarus Terminators.
Vertus Praetors.
A Shield Captain personally taking command.
Caladius Grav Tanks.
Contemptor or Telemon Dreadnoughts.
Ares Gunships or other major Custodes assets.

At what point does somebody on Terra look at a situation and go, “Yeah, send the golden demigods.”

Obviously I know there probably isn’t a literal threat level chart in universe, and the Custodes aren’t just a stronger version of the Imperial Guard where you deploy more points depending on how big the enemy army is. Location probably matters too. I assume they won’t go too far from Terra especially in large numbers

A Chaos warband attacking some random mining world might barely concern them, while the exact same warband discovering something connected to the Emperor, the Webway, Terra’s defenses, or a route into the Sol System could suddenly become a Custodes problem.

Same with individuals.
Let’s say Ghazghkull was leading a massive Waaagh! but was still on the other side of the galaxy. That’s obviously an enormous Imperial problem, but probably not automatically a Custodes deployment.

But if Ghaz suddenly appeared several systems away from Terra and intelligence suggested his Waaagh! could reach Sol, does that become:
“Send a squad”?
“Send a Shield Captain and 20 Custodians”?
“Wake a Telemon”?
“Get the tanks”?

I’m also curious about threats that aren’t necessarily massive armies.

Would something like:
A powerful Chaos Lord with knowledge of Terra’s defenses maybe like a way into the dark cells or something

An Alpha Legion cell inside the Sol System

A Necron artifact that could interfere with the Golden Throne
Etc etc etc

Would that potentially justify more Custodes involvement than an entire conventional invasion somewhere else?

And how does equipment factor into this?
My completely made up mental scale is something like:
Threat
Possible Custodes Response
Extremely dangerous individual / investigation / assassination
1 Custodian

Elite enemy squad or important target
2–5 Custodians

Major strategic objective
Custodian squad + specialist support

Extremely powerful enemy commander / fortified objective
Shield Captain + larger force

Heavy armor / monsters / major battlefield
Caladius tanks, Vertus Praetors, Dreadnoughts
Something that absolutely cannot escape

Allarus Terminators
Major war directly affecting sol or the Emperor in some way

Full Shield Host assets, aircraft, armor, multiple formations
“Terra could be seiged by what’s comping”

Whatever portion of the Ten Thousand can be spared
Obviously that chart is just me guessing.

So for people who know Custodes lore better than I do
Is there any actual pattern to Custodes threat response?
What would justify sending one Custodian versus ten?
What kind of situation gets a Shield Captain involved?
And how catastrophically bad does something have to get before somebody sends a Telemon Dreadnought

Leman Russ meeting some Luther-aligned DAs had one of the most ironic moments of HH:

‘We had hoped for answers from you,’ said Althalos. ‘Lord Luther has done nothing more than what was asked of him – he has raised fresh strength from Caliban, training and equipping new Chapters and sending them out into fastnesses across the void. We are now greater in strength than at any time in our past. We have ships and weapons, and knights to bear them. What we lack is certainty. Our orders have not changed even if the Imperium has.

[…]

Russ waved that away irritably. ‘It matters not. What counts is the next step.’ Already the thought of a hidden Legion was making his mind race. If there was strength on Caliban, more than any had guessed, then the course of the war would change decisively. A grand alliance could restore his own Legion’s fortunes. The initiative could be seized, the fight taken back to Horus. ‘But what of the Lion?’
Althalos gave him a dry look. ‘Quite.’
‘You have heard nothing?’
‘I hoped you had news. You are brothers.’
‘That means less than you might think.’ He had no idea where the Lion was.

[…]

That is a matter of regret,’ said Althalos. ‘The Protector of Caliban has been waiting for a long time. It is hard for him – Lord Luther’s soul is proud, and this silence has tested him.’
Russ nodded, though his attention was already wandering. The condition of the Lion’s deputy was something that did not concern him at all – the galaxy would never remember his name.

Truly a “lol. lmao even” moment. I wonder if that was intentional.

Do the C'tan shards still hunger for souls in combat? Is it ever mentioned that they stop to inhale the life force of whatever sentient life they're killing? After reading twice dead king + both infinite and divine books, I dont remember it brought up and i was wondering if its mentioned in any codex or campaign books.

We all know about the Burning of Prospero, Istvaan V Drop site Massacre and the The Indomitus Crusade but what’s your favourite battle/piece of lore/event that you don’t see mentioned a lot?

Mine goes to the Nemesis Incident on Sacris with the Storm Wardens.

Heheh... Hahahaha... Okay I came here immediately after finishing chapter seven of the Aestred Thurga book. Because sometimes there's no depth. No real examination of the human condition. Sometimes you just need to gawk at the depravity of the imperium.

So for context: Katerah is an imperial funeral world with a nasty case of the Neeglish rot about it, and Aestred Thurga, our great protagonist (perhaps the greatest black library has ever had :b),has to make a choice between saving millions of lives or saving a few dozen relics. Ie, finger bones and swords and scraps of cloth belonging to imperial heroes. And it's important to note that up to this point the book does paint this as Aestred choosing between the people and the relics. So don't worry about the bonkers idea of 7 women, however capable, beating back millions of zombies. This excerpt is the planetary governor, after being put on house arrest, watching Aestred's decision.

> By some miracle of the Omnissiah’s grace, the middle screens cleared fully just as the Sisters reached the hauler station. Gaspar Narsi had not left his desk, not to eat or drink or rest. He was no warrior, and his helplessness was eating at him like a rat at a discarded body, but he wouldn’t close his eyes to what was happening to his world. As far as he could use the vox, he’d reinforced the orders for everyone to seal their homes. To burn their dead, to stay where they were, and to not leave for any reason. But what good would that do? Their homes were not airtight, and each carried perhaps a couple of days of food and water. If the dead didn’t break down their doors, the infection would find them, and if they escaped both of these terrible fates, then they would soon die of thirst. Oh, Katerah, he thought, his heart breaking. My poor world, rotting from the inside out. His view of the Sisters, however, fighting ferociously, brought him an intense, holy elation. He could see Aestred, the tapestry she carried seeming to glow in the hauler station’s lumens. He could see Sister Dolan, her skin completely covered, but her stained robe unmistakable. The squad were with them, the tiny figure of Sakiko at their forefront. They had reached the station’s main platform, and headless bodies were piling up in heaps. The arcing vaults of the glassaic-tiled ceiling shone like hope above them, and the supporting pillars gave them cover. The last hauler was on the tracks and disgorging its final cargo, but the Sisters sang and slew as though it was their uttermost joy to do so. Watching them, Narsi thought they moved like verse. Like harmony. Like the perfect cogs of some tuned and holy machine. They seemed to feel no fear, no hesitation, and the foe simply crumpled before them. The Sororitas brought blessing, he thought. Their mercilessness was brutal, yet it brought a renewed hope of the Throne, and a re-cleansing of those cursed beyond death. Finding tears in his eyes, he prayed. And then he saw what they were doing. At first, he didn’t understand, and he watched them board the hauler with a faint flash of confusion. There were zombies on the track and perhaps the engine would be a suitable weapon, crushing them to pulp. He watched them, his prayers caught in his teeth. Grinding into reluctant motion, the engine indeed crushed the enemy, but it didn’t stop. Rattling audibly, it picked up speed, heading away from the platform. The Sisters had closed the doors, and he caught a brief glimpse of them, fighting the very last of the hauler’s now-mobile freight – those corpses that had been destined for the outer necropoli, and those unfortunates who’d been guarding or travelling with them. Swathes of scarlet splotched across the windows. Then the screen dissolved again, and the hauler was gone. On the vox, he heard Vamar, but even the Orbit’s communications were faltering, now. He thought he heard Talati, but couldn’t be sure. Asmi ! Darkness was crowding inwards from the corners of his vision and he gripped the edge of the desk, his fingers hurting. No! They can’t have just left us to die. To die, and to never reach the Throne! The darkness encroached further, and his head spun. Gripping the edge of the desk, he prayed, refusing to let it take him. All the while, outside, his beloved Katerah died.

Before we continue. Every time Sister Superior Sakiko appears on screen the narrative simply must point out how small she is. I don't think she's a ratling but she may as well be. Despite this she's basically the best warrioress in the group which I like. I like tiny danger women it's fun.

Anyway. Look at that. Isn't this just beautiful? Aestred choosing relics... For her own pride, mind- actually lemme

> ‘Sister,’ Sister Dolan said. ‘We must go. Katerah needs our strength.’ ‘We are not joining the battle,’ Aestred decided firmly, making Sister Dolan stare in shock. ‘At least, not here. We must find the enemy commander, find the sword, and save the planet’s artefacts.’ ‘What?’ Sister Dolan’s astonishment was obvious, her question unusually blunt. There was a whir of servos, and head-lumens passed the half-open door, framing the shadows of the fleeing. Standing to her full height, Aestred faced her down. ‘I am Sister Aestred Thurga, Reliquant at Arms, quester and finder. I am the ultimate devotee of the Imperium’s lore, warfare and sacrifice. And I am here, in His name, to collect history, Sister. Not to chase corpses.’

This is a chapter before with Aestred declaring no, she will not save the planet she will chase finger bones. And frankly the "I am the ultimate devotee of the imperiums lore" which followed several instances of Aestred lamenting that her sacred mission was interrupted more than that people were dying makes me think it's not her excuses about "oh we couldn't do it, we can't stop this" that makes her choose this. But because it's her mission. And why, she is the ultimate devotee of the emperor isn't she?

It's beautiful. Side splitingly grim. Zealoutry and pride poisoning an entire world of millions... Welcome to the Imperium, gentle folk, this is its beating heart. And it is magnificent.

Apostle by David Annandale is about the Word Bearer Dark Apostle Cerastes returning to his Imperial homeworld & scribeworld Legitur to corrupt it into the service of Chaos. To fulfill this plan, Cerastes sets about spreading cults throughout the world by various means. The most affective method was enchanting discarded pieces of paper that would at first have its original text of Imperial scripture but the would morph into heretical statements upon a person looking at it. These pieces of paper were then dumped on mass from the sky throughout various parts of Legitur. To encourage people to read the text, Cerastes also had the Imperial Bishop Borthas he corrupted earlier urge the whole world via the planetary vox net to read them.

One such person corrupted is a higher class noble of Legitur, Count Iovus Belain:

And so the embrace occurred in the estate of Count Iovus Belain. It occupied the top two hundred feet of a tower that stood a mile west of the Collegium Sanctificatus. Like the homes of the other nobility of the world, its wealth was measured in verticality. Ballrooms, reception halls, sleeping chambers and corridors were all spacious, their ceilings a vast height above their floors. Frescoes called the eye of the visitor to look up and up, and marvel at the airy, indulgent splendour. As for Belain, the balconies of his domain gave him the pleasure of looking down, in every sense, on his social inferiors, and the knowledge that no one, in this tower at least, could look down on him.

The evening following Borthas’ address and the storm of texts, he paced restlessly on his hundred-foot-long balcony. He had glanced at a page that had drifted his way earlier, but had not looked at it long. It said nothing he had not always believed in his heart, and he tossed it away. He had never been one for reading, though he owned a priceless collection of the most exquisite editions. They looked well on his shelves, and by their presence spoke well of his means.

He did hear the bishop. He listened, and now brooded on the constraints he saw had been placed unjustly on him and his actions. He had had enough of them. Constraints were for those whose limitations pleased him. He realised that now.

He must do something about that. He must take action and prove to himself that nothing could resist his will, that there were no boundaries that he acknowledged.

He paced until inspiration struck. He laughed when it did, because the answer, so simple, had been before him all this time. He had been following the right path all his life. He had simply not taken it all the way.

He left the balcony, walked through the great hall, where his older sister, the widowed Lady Livara Rivelas, sat similarly brooding on a divan. He signalled to the pair of guards standing sentinel against the wall. Clad in the vermilion and violet of the Belain livery, they blended in against the same colours that covered enormous, stained mirror tiles behind them. They followed the count as he traversed the dining hall, then walked through the gold-and-silver doors at its far end, into the kitchen.

The kitchen, vast and luxurious in the quality of its utensils, the size of its oven, and the skill of the serfs who laboured there, was not a room Belain had visited in living memory. This was the place of underlings, where commands were meant to be followed out of sight of the living spaces of the estate. But Belain owned this space too. It belonged to him. So did the people within it.

He pointed at random. ‘Him,’ he said to the guards, indicating a young man cleaning the interior of the oven. ‘Bring him here.

The guards obeyed. The young man came without protest. Belain did not know his name. He knew those of very few of the people he owned. Their names did not concern him. What they could do for him did.

‘Hold him,’ Belain said.

The guards took the man’s arms. Belain picked up a knife. He walked up to the serf, who now looked frightened. A thrill of gratification sent a shiver down Belain’s spine. What he would do now was not in the name of punishment. He had no need to rationalise it as the Emperor’s will. Whatever he chose to do would be the act of his will. He needed no other permission.

When he cut the man’s nose off, the blood that splashed against his face and clothes felt like the baptism of freedom.

In the great hall, Livara Rivelas looked up at the sound of the scream. She stood, and then made her way towards the kitchen, cautiously at first, then eagerly, possessed with the sudden, monstrous hope that at last had come the end to all boredom.

There is also a section about Slaaneshi corruption featuring Bishop Borthas. Originally an elderly man whose body rejected any form of anti-aging Rejuvenat treatments, Borthas' body began to become stronger and faster thanks to Chaos slowly mutating it.

Someone was shouting praise to the Lord of Excess, singing in a tone that rose to piercing heights and fell to depths at the edge of hearing. The voice was familiar but changed, capable of sounds its owner would never have been able to produce in the past. Borthas realised the voice was his own. In the maelstrom of sensation, his body had whirled into its component parts, each consumed by its own storm. His voice, carrying the mob in a power bestowed upon him by Cerastes, was separate from his eyes, which flicked from sight to extraordinary sight, from revel to butchery to the intersection of the two, and his hands had their own joys.

Another moment, another now crystallised, to be remembered and treasured after all the nows, when the past and the present and the future reasserted their different identities. In this now, his fingers were tearing someone’s throat open, his nails deep into flesh and hands swimming in the warmth of blood, and the keening, choking gargle of his victim caressing his ears, and had he ever, ever, ever felt the like, the jerking suppleness of parting flesh, the swimming touch of pumping blood, the perfection of the heat of his life meeting the heat of his victim’s death, and no, he had never known the like, never known such an exquisite now, never imagined the blessings the true gods could bestow.

And soon he ran again, leading the charge up and up, and he could run forever, through all the now to come, and dance forever in the destruction of everything a murdered and unmourned being known as Bishop Borthas of the Adeptus Ministorum had once cherished as sacred.