I am Callant Blackgar.
I am a Commissar of the 8th Pyrran Honeblades.
I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8th. The 8th could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.
It is their undoing.
The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.
A blade sinks into my abdomen. I hear the cruel laughing of the Xenos.
It ends.
I am alone.
I am surrounded by dust.
A door closes on the Black Ships.
I am Callant Blackgar.
I am a Commissar of the 8th Pyrran Honeblades.
I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8th. The 8th could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.
It is their undoing.
The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.
A claw rakes through my face. I hear the cruel laughing of the Xenos.
It ends.
I am made alone.
I have reduced the Xenos to dust.
A door closes on the Black Ships.
I am Callant Blackgar.
I am a Commissar of the 8th Pyrran Honeblades.
I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8th. The 8th could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.
I could not be prouder of them.
It is their undoing.
The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.
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A Xenos melta sears my flesh. I hear the cruel laughing of unknown Gods.
It never ends.
I make myself alone.
I have reduced my men to dust.
A door closes on the Black Ships.
I do not know who I am.
A door closes on the Black Ships.
I am a Commissar of the 8th Pyrran Honeblades.
I lead my men to their deaths.
I am their deaths.
A door closes on the Black Ships.
I am Callant Blackgar.
I am a Commissar of the 8th Pyrran Honeblades.
I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8th. The 8th could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.
I could not be prouder of them.
It is their undoing.
The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.
The laughter is overpowering. It breaks my skull, it ruptures through and I see them. I see all they could be. The infinite potential horror.
The whole universe is dust.
A door closes on the Black Ships.
I am Callant Blackgar.
I am a Commissar of the 8th Pyrran Honeblades.
I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8th. The 8th could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.
I could not be prouder of them.
It is their undoing.
The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.
A power weapon electrocutes me. I hear the laughter of the Four. They are but men.
It does not end. They enjoy it, those heretics. +I KNOW YOU’RE HERE.+
I am not alone.
+I WILL REDUCE YOU TO DUST.+
A door closes on the Black Ships.
I am Callant Blackgar.
I am a Commissar of the 8th Pyrran Honeblades.
I could not be prouder of them.
I lead my men to battle against the enemy, against Xenos scum who tower over the tallest man. The mossy flesh of our foe is all but unyielding, and their nonsensical battle cries would have shattered the will of ordinary men. But not those of the 8th. The 8th could never turn their backs on the enemy. It was unheard of.
I could not be prouder of them.
It is their undoing.
I could not be prouder of them.
The Xenos stomp and mash and burn and slice through my men. Flesh is torn asunder just as easily as the skies break in the hammering devastation of war.
A man mauls my torso. I hear the laughter of the heretic.
I am not alone. +I SEE YOU.+
Thaddeus Scayn wades through the dust. He offers me a hand.
A door closes on the Black Ships.
I am sobbing.
I am alone.
The Four laugh. They think they are breaking me. The body, yes, they have managed that. But they are no better than the Xenos. And the Xenos are dust. Just like my men. I could not be prouder of them. I will reduce the Four to dust.
They do not know what I know. They try to. They fail.
+I KNOW WHO YOU ARE.+
They seek answers. They wish to know how close I am to their operation. They want to know the secrets of my Ordo. They want to know the movements of Imperium forces. They want to know…
It is in my mind. They cannot get to it. They try. The Black Ships keep it from them.
+SHALL I TELL YOU WHAT I KNOW?+
I am Callant ‘Cal’ Blackgar.
I could not be prouder of the 8th Pyrran Honeblades.
They were led into battle and fought valiantly to the last.
The Xenos stomped and mashed and burned and sliced through the 8th. Flesh was torn asunder just as easily as the skies broke in the hammering devastation of war.
Venom seeps into my veins. The pain is all but overpowering. I cry out. I hear the howling of the Xenos. I hear the howling of unknown Gods. I hear the howling of the Four.
+GALE RYKE.+
+PHAENONITE INQUISITOR.+
+EXCOMMUNICATE TRAITORIS.+
+FORMERLY OF ORDO XENOS.+
+THADDEUS SCAYN FOUND YOU.+
+I AM YOUR DAMNATION.+
+YOU WILL BE DUST.+
A door closes on the Black Ships.
It will not open.
+You do not know enough, Blackgar.+
+You will.+
+We will show you what we are making, before the end.+
+Showing you will be the end.+