Trappers of men

"Do not bite into the meat just yet, little ones. First we grab this fleshling by the throat and feel it wriggle, squirming for life in our hands. Way of Fraya is sustained by death, and to keep the hunter strong, killing should never come easy."

Tø desecrate the eternity

In these attempts to solve a riddle of immaterial conscience my collegues have written tome after tome, each straying further from the truth of the matter. Too many of them cannot help but make the same mistake of anthropomorphize creatures of the Empyrean: even when the researchers do not expect these so-called Neverborn to share our values and logic, they still assume them to have some level of comprehension and planning comparable to one we can experience firsthand. Perhaps, ancient animistic cultures that used to worship simple phenomena of their primitive worlds like rockfalls, tornados and wildfires were closer to the truth than any of us educated men. It is folly to compare conscience of Neverborn formed in an unpredicable turmoil of the Empyrean to any mind fundamentally based on material laws and principles. Instead, we need to ask ourselves: what would a sentient element like fire think like?
Fire does not have grudges, plans or reasons.
Fire just wants to burn.

"Tracking the unfathomable:
Chronicles of the most significant Warp-anomalies in Tharses sector",
Chapter II, Section 7

Сhanneling a firestørm

On the first day of the last age a sacrifice shall be made of the unbeliever.

    By the despair of the first sacrifice walls of reality will be shattered.
        Unbearable heat shall come upon the land and every heart will tremble in anticipation of the revelations to come.

On the second day of the last age a sacrifice shall be made of the unbeliever.

    By the scream of the second sacrifice gates of oblivion will be swung open.
        Great fires shall cover the earth and the voices that sing the primordial truth shall become impossible to ignore.

On the third day of the last age a sacrifice shall be made of the unbeliever.

    By the agony of the third sacrifice a bridge of shimmering flames will be formed.
        And it finally shall walk amongst the faithful, donning the mantle of aetheric radiance and singing an inferno into being around it.

By the time Әamchicøde the Cønflagratør finishes its song, wherever the eye falls,
there will be no unbelievers left to sacrifice.

Beastmaster's Coffin

Take your most trusted warriors and head rimward to Bloodwind Spoil. The road through Tormented Lands is hard and perilous: watch out for hungry raptoryx flocks and chaos-worshippers hunting for fresh victims! Deep in the Hag's Claw Forest you will find a beaten craggy hill known among locals as Beastmaster's Coffin. The treasure I spoke of is buried at its foot. Mark my words, sharpen your blades, and don't blab around! Eightpoints slaughter and devour a thousand careless fools a day, but they never remember their names.

Having brøken the veil

I have already explained, but you just don't understand, do you? Your every thought and act disturbs the Sea of Souls. And time works differently in its currents. Every malicious act you could ever commit, every horrendous thought you brain will ever process — these are your sins, and you were found guilty of them before the creation of this reality. Shrieking things you hear at night — they are not simple illusions. They are your own bitterness made manifest, bringing vengeance for every atrocity you will ever be able to conceive of. They are the Impøssible Chøir, and they are coming for you.