By Matt Ahlschwede

From the final journal of Exorcist Caspian Howe, Y.E. 54652:

When I was a child, I often wondered who were those awful grey men who shut themselves off from all light and color, and went down into the chaos worlds, muttering their blasphemies. I heard that the 451st Lost Souls had once been loyal soldiers of the Holy Empire of Man who had turned on their Emperor, giving themselves over to the whims and ruinous ways of Eris.

When I was older, and learning the ways of Exorcism under the tutelage of Exorcist Markius, he taught me the proper dread of traitors such as these. When they took him at the siege of Logan’s World, I assumed that he had died right away at their hands.

Three weeks ago, responding to reports of heretical activities on one of the garrison worlds in the Nautilus Sector, I discovered a truth more horrible than I had imagined. Traversing the road to what I had suspected was some blasphemous shrine or other, I was frozen in my tracks by the sound of approaching heavy vehicles and marching troops. A large force was coming down the road from the other direction. My bodyguards and I took refuge, hiding in the underbrush on the side of the road. We could barely stomach the acrid smell of smoke and oil that the followers of Eris exuded. Armored columns and rank upon rank of those accursed 451st advanced down the road, but I dared not move for I was vastly outnumbered. The unholy horde passed, unnoticing with their glowing blue eyes and accompanied by all manner of devils and infernal engines.

I heard it before I saw it, the squealing of the tank’s tracks, rusted with the blood of crushed foes. The ominous sound got louder until at last it broke the treeline. It was an ancient tank imbued with all manner of evil spirit, and in place of a turret. . . I can hardly relate it. In place of a turret, the top of the tank was adorned with the head of my old mentor, Exorcist Markius, grown to a gigantic size, with the main cannon protruding from his open mouth. The head-turret swiveled around and looked directly at me with what I can only call recognition.

I have been on the run ever since, but the 451st are relentless. My only hope is to make it to the starport before they catch up to me. If you are reading this, pray for me. . .