Transcript of a heretical text created by the Cultist Gol, detailing the capture of the prisoner.

At the twenty first hour, the last of the grey armoured brutes fell. His halberd fell from his hands as his power armour cracked beneath the might of Warp-Blessed Zharesh's axe. He breathed heavily on the ground, calling out to his false Emperor. Zharesh laughed at his folly and drove the edge of his blade through his skull as yet another fine offering to the Dark Gods.

"Has he been found?" Zharesh asked as he kicked at the corpse.

Ten of my brethren emerged from the Thunderhawk's husk. In their midst, a pitiful creature was bound in chains that we had forged before the altar of Khorne on the previous moon. Our prey, his armour broken and his face bloodied, was dragged forward and forced to kneel. He looked up at Zharesh, his eyes betraying his fear. Zharesh laughed again and put his hands to his helmet, removing it slowly and deliberately.

"It... it can't be," our wretch said as he gazed at our blessed champion.

I will admit, I had never myself been given the honour of seeing Zharesh shed his helmet before. His face was pale and his grey hair was long and almost silken. On his face, he bore many deep scars and his pale red eyes seemed to twist and turn as though they contained within them the essence of the warp itself. He smiled, revealing a row of even teeth that seemed somehow to have escaped the depredations of Lord Nurgle. "Come now, Brother Inquisitor," Zharesh said with another laugh, "Surely you recognize your old friend and comrade? These scars should be proof enough."

"Proof that my word was true, traitor!" the Imperial brat spat. I stepped forward to club him, though Zharesh held me back. "Proof that you were everything I said!"

"Is that how you sleep at night? Is that what you tell the Emperor in your prayers?" Zharesh asked, "That all the poor souls you brought to the firing line... all the innocents, all the ones that were in your way... that you killed them all for His sake?"

"Don't you dare speak His name! You defile everything you touch, traitor!"

"I ask you, Alastor, who the real traitor is? The man who was damned or the man who carried out the sentence?" Zharesh hefted his axe lightly, "You were but an administrator... a foolish bureaucrat without talent or wits. But you were ambitious, yes... very ambitious. I thought to use that ambition to drive you... to make you strive harder in the Emperor's service. Little did I know that the Changer of Ways was already whispering in your heart."

The Inquisitor tried to rise, only to be bludgeoned backwards by the flat side of Zharesh's axe. He cried out and one of my brethren kicked him in the side until he fell silent. I licked my lips as I saw the man's agony.

"I am the judge here, Alastor," said Zharesh softly, "When the Storm Troopers came, I knew at once... you were many things, but you always managed to get in well with your with your betters. A poisonous word here and a lie there and suddenly, you were in my place and I was a traitor. I, who had served the Emperor in all things for half of a century, a traitor! I was sacrificed, Alastor, so that you might better serve your ambition."

"My proof is before me right now, Zharesh," Alastor retorted, though this time he did not rise, "Who your true masters are could not be more clear."

Zharesh looked down upon his axe, which seemed to pulsate with an unseen power. "Oh yes," he said softly, "When I sat in your dungeon, awaiting execution, I prayed for the chance to avenge myself. To take from you what you took from me. Then, an hour before the morning that was to see my end, Sarados appeared. I knew what he was... I could feel it. The corruption, the despair and the never-ending yearn for battle. I cursed him and cried for the guards... but they did not come."

"If you had been a true servant of the Emperor," Alastor said, his eyes burning with a foolish fury, "You would have died there, for His sake."

Zharesh smiled again, taking a step towards the Imperial wretch. "And so I would have, had it not been for you. I remember Sarados' words well... he is a man of no small intelligence, Sarados... he said: 'You have but two choices, Inquisitor... you may embrace the power that you have spent your life cursing or you may die in the morrow for a crime you did not commit... but know this: Should you die, he shall never again escape you. And should you live, you may yet attain a greatness beyond your wildest dreams'."

"I see no greatness before me."

"And nor do I, Alastor. Believe you me, I know what I have become. But I sold my soul to the promise of the Chaos Gods for but one purpose and now, at long last, they have repaid me. As the Emperor is my witness, Alastor, I do say that there is justice in this universe."

The Inquisitor squared his shoulders and opened his mouth to speak, but no words came out of his mouth. Perhaps, for a moment, he saw his folly and realized that his False Emperor could not save him from the fate the Chaos Gods had left for him. After a moment, his head bowed. "Do it then. Take your justice."

Zharesh laughed for a third time and the gathered host joined with him. "Oh, you will not die here, Alastor. You will wish you had, but no... death shall not take you for some time yet. Bear him away and bring him to our encampment. When I have the leisure, his true judgement shall begin."

With those words, the Warp-Blessed Sorcerer took up his helmet and placed it upon his shoulders again.

Transcript retrieved from the personal records of the Sage, Alexander Petranus.

With the death of the traitor Governor, the remaining Renegades soon fell into disarray. In the two weeks following the conquest of the capital, Inquisitor Alastor Drakonis, with the assistance of the Oathkeeper, began the process of filtering the population and distinguishing between those who had bent their knee to the abominable Gods and those that had stayed true to the Imperium. Tens of thousands of trials were conducted on the spot and countless heretics fell when Alastor gave the nod and the Storm Troopers unleashed the Emperor's cleansing fire.

The taint of heresy on this world remains strong, however. Grandmaster Lucas has been unrelenting, pursuing the great daemon that fled the governor's palace. Isaiah has told me that a core of die-hard traitorous Guardsmen has also rallied around one of the Ex-Governor's trusted lieutenants in the wastelands to the south east. And in the southern continent, the Chaos Marines lie in waiting behind their formidable entrenchments. All scouts and land speeders sent to probe their defences have not returned.

Julian lies dead, but much work is left to be done.

Transcript retrieved from the personal records of the Sage, Alexander Petranus.

Betrayal. Our Thunderhawk was en route to the east when we were struck by ground-based lascannon fire. We were expected. The sky began to twist with foul energies and Furies appeared, swarming and throwing themselves into our hull. "Get us out of here!" I heard Alastor shouting amidst the explosions, though soon our craft was lurching towards the ground. I made my peace with the Emperor and watched the ground rush up to us. But the Emperor is merciful. At the very last moment, our Machine Spirit made a last effort. The engine fired as we crashed to earth. I was thrown across the room and felt an arm break. But though the disaster met us, we were not broken.

"Damage report!" Alastor yelled.

"Our hull integrity is lost," the helmsman reported, climbing "The Machine Spirit is wounded, though the Tech Priests believe him not dead. Casualty reports coming from all over the ship... fifty dead, mainly from our Storm Trooper compliment. I've already sent out a distress call, but there's..."

"Sir, the Furies are coming again!"

I looked out the viewscreen and saw them. Two dozen of the beasts flew in a v formation. I am ashamed to admit that I cried out. A heavy bolter began to fire to defend us, but there were far too many... death would not be cheated of us. I looked to the Inquisitor, who was clasping his fist in silent prayer. Then, with a flash of light, they came. Storm bolters scythed through the air and the Furies screamed.

A communication channel was opened. "Inquisitor Drakonis? Are you all right?"

"I am fine, Justicar," he answered, "But this is not over. Where are your fellows?"

"We are mustering what we can," the Grey Knight answered, "A local Imperial garrison conducting cleansing operations in your name has already dispatched reinforcement. Grandmaster Lucas has also been informed. We shall defend you from the daemons while you conduct repairs to your vessel."

The Inquisitor was silent for a moment, looking out the viewscreen and into the distance. Before the Emperor, I do swear that for a brief moment, I saw him shudder. "The daemons may perhaps be the least of your concerns, Justicar."

"What do you mean?"

He laughed, shaking his head. "Oh sweet justice... He's here."

"Who is here?"

"My old friend and fellow," Alastor answered, "Zharesh is here."