There are those within the Imperium of Man, misguided souls perhaps enamoured of great poverty or pour luck, who will willingly adhere to the beck and call of things unclean, who not only listen to the fevered ramblings of the warp spawn but consciously accept them into their weakling minds and bodies, allowing their very flesh to become the medium through which the daemonic can exact their twisted whims upon the material plane.

Such beings are often refered to as being "possessed"; enamoured of a dark entity that feeds from their soul and mutates their flesh for it's own twisted desires. Even amongst the pious ranks of the Adeptus Astartes there are those willing to give up their soul in the name of personal gratification. Indeed, the nature of the daemon depends largely upon the personal desires and nature of the daemon, for example those who become enamoured of despair, wallowing in their own fatalistic quagmires will attract the daemon spawn of the Plague god, Nurgle, whereas those who harbour violent or murderous intent tend to attract the Daemon Huntsmen of Khorne.

One is spoken of in hushed whispers amidst the highest ranking nobles of the Inquisition, a being who's history is bound in tablets of pure ceramite and encased in the most heavily guarded vaults, lest his heretical prophecies infect others with his lunacy. This being is Anis, a one time high ranking priest amidst the WordBearers, those most foul of the Traitor legions.

Like his brethren , Anis was most fanatical in his worship of the Emperor and led the terminator armoured legions of his brethren in the great crusade, slaying both alien and heretic alike with inspirational zeal.

It thus came as a crushing blow when his primarch and Father, Lorgar reported the Emperor's betrayal of him and the Legion as a whole. Anis at first rejected Lorgar and openly opposed his worship of the chaos powers, calling him unclean and perverted. This extract alone remains of the records detailing the final confrontation, in which Anis was expelled from the Wordbearer's legion with a group of select retainers:

Thought for the Day: "Ignorance is the shield of the innocent."

"...And thus it was that the Great Custodian, Anis confronted his dark master, the Primarch Lorgar whom it was believed had become enamoured of things unclean, and cast down his symbols of authority at the Primarch's feet, calling him coward and defiler, cursing his name and the heritage which he bore.

The Primarch's wrath was terrible to behold, likened unto the eruptions of the violent earths of Terra in it's ancient days as he struck down his son, leaving a livid mark of red across the Custodian's face which would burn with the pain of his convictions for the rest of his days...."

Thus Anis and those Wordbearers still faithful to the Emperor left the Wordbearers legion with the expressed intention of reporting Lorgar's downfall to the higher powers. Unfortunately, Anis's personal Gothic class cruiser was crippled by Eldar pirates on it's route back to Earth and forced to crash land on a small barren planet on the Eastern finges of the galaxy populated by various indiginous and semi-humanoid tribes.

Only Anis and a select few of his crew members survived, fleeing into the verdent rainforests that littered the planet's surface in seek of refuge from the Eldar raiders. They survived for weeks, and eventually months on the flesh of wild creatures and poisoned fluids from the carniverous flora that predominated the jungles.

Even with their enhanced metabolism many fell into a catatonic state and died screaming their pain to the storm-laden skies, cursing Anis and his treachery.

Eventually, from both hunger and the various toxins flowing through his system, even Anis became enamoured of the delirium, wandering through the jungles in a semi-sentient state, muttering random snippets of unintelligible hymns and prayers from old Terra.

Fully a decade passed as Anis degenerated further into the cloyng womb of insanity, his enhanced metabolism and ultimately his tenacity for life keeping him from plunging into death. Unbeknownst to him, the tribes and households of the planet served the Dark powers of Chaos, revering each of the chaos deities with equal fervour, and had come to regard him as some sort of dark emisarry from their masters, a Daemon of unnutterable might and strength, indeed, his existence within this hostile environment had rendered him very much like a daemonic entity; his skin had become pale and ashen, his eyes sunk and black with rancour. His muscular form had become hunched and feral, his gangrel limbs terminating in cruel, vestigial talons.

After much bloodshed he was captured by the highest ranking huntsmen of the combined tribes and brought forth to the high council; a meeting of elders from each tribe who goverened the day to day workings and religious ceremonies of the planet.

The council building was little more than a simple edifice of stone; a high domed cathedral marked with the stylised eight pointed star of misrule. The eight members of the council were never seen by the planet's populace, and it was claimed that they never tired, never ate, never slept; their entire existences were devoted to furthering the whims of their masters.

Indeed, when Anis came before them even his dulled perceptions recoiled in disgust at their appearance; they, like so many of their degenrate kind had been rewarded accordingly by their lords, and were enamoured of every concievable mutation, every warp and weft of the flesh imaginable was played out on horrific detail.

They spoke to Anis in the dark tiongue, a tongue which long ago he'd been rquired to amster in order to question the heretics he was committed to destroy. Now it was little more than familiar sentiment, it did indeed stir something within his tortured frame and tore him from the black malaise of insanity, restoring his sentience and rekindling the burning embers of a long forgotten hatred.

His father had cast him out, but it was the Emperor who'd abandoned him. On his long journey through the endless regions of space he had but one goal: to warn his Lord of the cancer that grew in his realm, but now he knew. An eiphany had blossomed within his mind, and oh what an awakening it was. His faith had been misplaced. His father, after all of the curse, all of the hurt, the blood and the suffering , was right. The Emperor was weak. He'd abandoned even those faithful to him to the mercies of this misbegotten hell world, and he'd pay. Oh yes.

Thus he spoke unto the council, proclaiming himself a holy messenger from the realm of Delirium, playing on their beliefs and fears until they grovelled and revered him as a god. He soon fell under the sway of their beliefs and customs, researching ancient and daemonic texts detailing the individual aspects of each deity, but primarily he was concerned with the veneration of each of the powers equally, to gain the respect of all of them and in doing so attain oneness with them.

using the natural resources abundant on the planet he was soon able to re-fashion his ship thanks to the dark magics and knowledge of the daemonic entities summoned to his will. He rose from the surface of the planet like an avenging angel, and daemons were in his train. At this point the Horus Heresy had barely erupted, and rather than become involved in what he knw was a failing battle he fled into the deepest recesses of the Great Eye, to a Crone world composed of flesh and bone, where the ground beneath his feet moaned in agony and pleasure in equal measure, where their was bountiful supply for his orgies of worship and sacrifice.

He soon recruited a new band of retainers from the planet's twisted populace and clothed them in the recaptured power armour of his servants,to which unbeknownst to them he'd bound the essences of various unclean creatures. As soon as they donned the ceramite suits the very fabric of the stuff bonded with their flesh, infusing them with it's heat and power. They became true chaos space marines in their own right.

He fought, worshipped and slaughtered for centuries, building his power so that one day he might confront his father in hope of forgiveness, and in doing so unite the Wordbearers into an all destroying force of redemption and slaughter; they will fall upon the fledgling Imperium of man like Angels of fire, burning and cleansing all in their wake until they reach the gates of Terra, and they will burn too.

In his countless centuries of worship, Anis has come to harbour not just one daemonic host, but several: one for each of the great powers that speak unto him and imbue his body and mind with their powers. As a result his body is constantly wracked with mutation: sometimes the snapping sinew and reknitting bone is pleasurable beyond endurance; other times agonising beyond measure. Either way he welcomes each and every twinge and venerates it as a gift from his masters.

His mind and actions are sporadic, and often contradictory depending upon which daemonic entity holds sway over the mortal shell at the time. There are rare occasions in which every voice, some laden with suppressed energies, others subtle and beguiling, speak as one; their motives and intentions united into impossible drive and zeal. It is at these times that Anis is at his most dangerous, and often refers to himself as Legion, claiming that he is one of many.

As to his fate, it is widely believed that he and his corrupt followers are still at large in the galaxy.

By Argrath the Corruptor

You can meet Argrath over at the