They come. The mongrel progeny of Russ and their feral furiosity even now walk the dead streets above, and they fear me, oh yes. Their terror is so very sweet; like divine nectar it drifts on the fetid air of these misbegotten sewers and flows into my veins. The strength that fills me is beyond anything I've ever felt before. I feel as if I could tear the very planet asunder and cast them all into the cold, unfeeling void of space. The bloodletting, the violence that I unleashed on my former brothers and sisters was pleasurable beyond endurance, and yet it was horrific.

I see faces flying before my vision; eyes welling with tears of terror and agony as my fingers rap around a tender neck, the sudden, lifeless glassiness as their souls flee into the solace of the warp, free at long last from the drudgery of their existence. The insane sense of twisted satisfaction and abstract horror that fills my mind as lifeless blood wells between the lips like liquid rose petals.

They have paid for their transgressions; where was their false Emperor when my teeth bit deep into their tender flesh? Where was their Emperor when I fell from the skies like an Angel of darkness and fire, burning their weakling flesh and charring their bones to little more than volcanic dust? He abandoned them, just as he betrayed me, just as he betrayed his sons all those millennia ago. I denounce him, and all that he represents. I will tear down the very walls of Terra, I will reduce the Imperial Palace to little more than rubble at my feet, and I will drive my hand into the corpulent Emperor's shrivelled heart, and pluck it from his withered chest. The Dark Gods will be appeased for my redemption, and I shall finally find the solace that I yearn for.

They come even now, the bestial huntsman of the Imperium, so very proud of their consummate strength, so very pious in their reprehensible beliefs. I can feel the roving will of one of their psykers even now, beating impotently against my own thought, attempting to find a chink in my mental armour. I allow him the breifest glimpse of what lies beneath their feet, then cast him out. I could pull his soul shrieking from his body for such transgressions, but I wish for them to see the glories that darkness can bestow. I wish for them to have the briefest, most tantilizing glimpse of immortality before they fall lifeless and bloodied at my feet just as the rest of this weakling planet lie now.

He betrayed them all, he betrayed her. His servants slaughtered her; slaughtered them all. He will pay. His lament shall echo throughout the stars themselves before I finally grant him the reprieve of death.

The thick filth flowing about my hooves runs black with the coagulated refuse of my victims, the stench rising from the sickening detritus would've reduced my former incarnation to tears. They come; I sense them through the vibrations of every stone, through the tremulous nature of the still, stinking air, through the very ripples of the warp itself. They exist in blindness, but their augmented senses will aid them. It was so very easy. The generators that once fuelled the entire city lie in ruin, such a simple act of mindless destruction, and yet with their cessation the city lies dormant, lifeless, dark.

Yes, let them face the horrors of the night, let them hurl their impotent sorceries and empty their futile weapons into my body. Let them see that which their Emperor could not gift them. Let them see immortality