![]() ![]() Tell me who made you and who commanded you and Molitor to come after this prize…and I might give you the primer.' 'Made me?' The blank-eyed man smiled at me duplicitously. Lances of annihilation blasted down into the mud-flats nearby. 'This is no place for introductions.' He gestured about himself. ![]() 'I would like the primer now please, Gregor.' The glowing octahedron of the saruthi's unholy text was clasped in one nimble hand. The blank-eyed man - though in truth he was not a man, but a daemon in human form - strode up the shining curve towards me. Things end up with Eisenhorn standing on a burning city roof as the Imperial Navy enact Exterminatus, with the Primer, which our favourite campy daemonhost tries to gently persuade him to part with:. But all is not as it seems - one of their Inquisitors is in league with an unknown party who wants the Necroteuch for themselves, and they have sent their own operatives to retrieve it. To thwart them, Eisenhorn and the Inquisition launch their own invasion of the Saruthi homeworld with the Deathwatch. The snag is that these aliens have a largely taste-and-smell-based perception and so their copy requires a "Primer" to be used by humans, without which it is useless. ![]() After Eisenhorn thwarts their attempt to buy the original copy, the heretics then invade their Saruthi allies to try and steal their copy. Eisenhorn has been on the hunt for a group of cultists who are trying to buy a copy of an ancient tome of Chaotic lore called the Necroteuch from a race of Chaos-worshipping aliens called the Saruthi. ![]()
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