Reflections and Manifesto of Rahaund'ul Dhelmas

[Scourged]

Had a slow day at work, so I took a stab at fleshing out some of my head-canon for my favorite warband. Enjoy it as you see fit.

 

*****

 

We know your lies.

 

We have been drowning in your falsehoods for millennia, and the waters continue to grow deeper. We hear them all, thanks to our gift. Your Imperium is wrought with slander. Every human, past and present, has sinned. We know, for we have heard your sins. Most are petty, meaningless, and without consequence. Others are far grander, with schemes that have defined legacies and planets. Each one begets another until the trickle is the river, and the river a flood. This galaxy is filled with your sin.

 

My brothers and I are no different, if that’s any solace. Once, we were champions of distrust, loyal servants to the brightest flame of mankind’s burning deceptions: the Imperial Inquisition. We were the Seekers of Truth. Loyally we served, hounds hunting the trails Inquisitors set us upon, rooting out their quarry, and claiming the kill when the prey was found guilty. The Inquisitors were judge and jury, but it was our bolters and blades that carried the executions. Every soul we slaughtered was, of course, guilty. It’s not as if the Inquisition would ever operate disingenuously, would they?

 

Poor Gallus… He did not have such blind faith in our taskmasters. He believed our actions were misguided, and our campaigns were not truly just. Begged and begged he did, time and time again, to your Emperor – prayer after prayer, pleading to your mighty god for the clarity to know real truth, all in the humble belief that no innocents should ever be punished. The Emperor was not there to answer, but Gallus’s whimperings were not unheard.

 

Do you know of the djinn? I do. Not long after the mighty Seekers descended to Chaos, I scoured the Librarium’s offerings, pouring over each mote of knowledge to Terra’s ancient folklore. And I found answers. The djinn were creatures of legend: born of a smokeless fire and living in another plane of existence, shape-shifters that enjoyed interfering with the world of man. The myths taught hubris: man would ask a wish, and the djinn would twist his desires against him. Ultimate power is not without sacrifice.

 

It was a djinni that answered Gallus so long ago. To be literal, it was actually a daemon. Djinn are a fictional belief from mankind’s foolish early days, whereas daemons are the very real spawn of the Warp. But daemon is just so crude a name. The weaver of our fate was not a bloated carcass of pestilence, or a thoughtless soldier that lusts for blood and war. Djinni, though, properly relays the cunning and precise manipulation of the creature that found us. And a djinni is what granted Gallus’s wish: we would know all truths by hearing all lies.

 

It was such a boon when the voices started. Our hunts for the Inquisition became quite expedient. No foe could hide from or outflank us. Interrogations were laughably short, soon entirely unnecessary. Even our mortal crew and servants benefited. But then the voices grew louder. Stronger. More and more of them, coming to us from entire planets, then system and sectors, growing so numerous that it now feels as though the weight of a galaxy’s falsehoods is collectively working to crush our sanity. It took little time for our boon to become a curse.

 

How would you react if every thought in your mind was silenced by the lies of your civilization? I catalogued thousands of reactions as madness claimed the mortal crew and Neophytes first. Violence was alarmingly common, though I’m sure that comes as no surprise. Many more became comatose, minds quite literally destroyed. The Astropaths – I find them particularly amusing – became conduits to the flood of falsehood. Each of them rambles on and on, scrivening or speaking aloud the chorus in their minds.

 

Whether or not an Astartes would submit to or defy the gift was – like so many blessings of the Architect of Fate – random. Yes, many chose violence as their answer to madness. Self-mutilation has become very common form of therapy. None grew comatose, however – an Astartes is too strong to have his mind shattered. Still, so many of the Seekers of Truth found themselves slaves to the voices.

 

But I am not so weak-minded to become a slave. A century of training with the Librarium taught me what I needed to assert sanity over the rising tide. I channel my thoughts, I focus them, until I grow deaf to all of your incessant screams of deception. Many others have found the means to maintain sanity, but I alone can shut the voices is out. This is why my brothers turn to me, why they submit to me. And this is why I lead our growing warband to eradicate the lies of mankind.

 

But what of our former leader, the valiant and virtuous Gallus Herodicus? He was among the many who could not embrace the gift of the djinni. He became a brute of ceaseless aggression, shouting “THE LIES!” incessantly during his rampage. Thirty-six of the broken 1^st Company were slaughtered before I and eight others were able to subdue poor Gallus. Most sought to slay him like a rabid beast, to end his misery and our inconvenience. But why destroy such a relic of our former glory? Why waste such a useful weapon? That is why he is now locked within a sarcophagus and bound to a Dreadnought chassis. He is now a behemoth of flesh, metal, and rage: Gallus the Deceived.

 

Deceived as he was, the prayers of Gallus were answered, and I am reaping the rewards of the gift. With every new world that feels our liberating presence, more lies filter into our minds, and more truths are revealed amidst the falsehoods. We are a Scourge to the Imperium. You can hide nothing from us. Would you like to know the greatest lie you tell yourselves? The one single statement more raucous and cacophonous than all others you pathetically speak?

 

The Emperor protects.

 

~ Rahaund’ul Dhelmas, Sorcerer of The Scourged