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A voice echoed through the Warp. The voice traveled through the Gardens of Grandfather Nurgle, filling Isha with hope as she heard the name the voice whispered to her. The Red Lord grinned as the voice whispered to him a name of a man who had honored him in the carnage he wreaked, even if he was not aware of it. The Changer of Ways heard the voice, and determined from it's whispers the fate of Mankind, he saw salvation, but also damnation. Over the pleasure pits of the Warp, She Who Thirsts raged at the name that had denied her the soul of a great hero. The Bloody Handed God heard a brief whisper as the voice passed through his domain. He felt both hatred, and a grudging respect. Lastly, it touched the mind of an unborn god, waiting for the catalyst that would bring it into this world. It lunged at the voice, knowing that this man would one day help bring him into being. Where the voice whispered, the Warp heard. The voice whispered the name Steve.

The Pilgrim stalked the halls of the Tricorn Palace, his heavy footfalls echoing throughout the palace. His immense form was engulfed in a massive penitents' robe. The massive demon bound blade, Emperor's Mercy was strapped to his back, since reforged after his duel with the rogue inquisitor Magnus. His flesh was inscribed with warding prayers against the daemon and the Warp, his eyes dark and terrible. He had a name once, he was sure of it. His earliest memory was awakening in a medical lab surrounded by medicae servitors and a thing in the corner that laughed at his attempts to free himself from the table. Whenever he tried to remember what it was, he only saw a dark shapeless void, as if he was not meant to remember what it was. He was told that he was an instrument of the Emperor's Will, a tool of His Most Holy Inquisition. Since that day, he had killed the enemies of the Emperor without impunity. He was prone to bouts of murder, and often heard a mocking voice in his head that would laugh when he killed. It told him that he was honoring Khorne with his murder. He hated the voice more than anything, even the enemies of Mankind. The voice would tell him that all he knew was a lie, that Inquisitor Amazzi had twisted his mind, that he was destined for greater things. Things that would rip the galaxy asunder in madness and terror. Today, however, he was to question a captured Mael-Dannan Farseer.

When the Pilgrim arrived in the dungeons beneath the Tricorn Palace, the Farseer was already strapped to an Excruciation. The Eldar was dark haired and well built. Blood tricked from a nose that was obviously broken. "You have information." The Pilgrim said bluntly, not willing to waste words with Xenos trash. He gripped the Farseer's chin with one hand, pulling his face closer to his. "Your mind is broken, but I can fix you." replied the Farseer. The Pilgrim cared not for Eldar lies, so he cracked a massive fist across the Eldar's face. "Be healed." said the Farseer. A series of images flashed before the Pilgrim, all of them horribly wrong. He saw himself smash an Imperial Aquila, crush a missionary's skull beneath his iron boot, himself preaching to a group of followers about the glories of the Warp, a word burning, the glory of the Dark Gods working directly through him. The Pilgrim vomited, these weren't just images, they were memories. "Damnable witch! What have you done to me?!" shouted the Pilgrim. "I have given you your life back. Drawn back the veil of lies that has clouded your mind for so long." He had a name, he was sure of it. He was the Pilgrim of Hate. He was the Carrion Lord. He was the Master of Agonies. He was Mologomus.

Inquisitor Amazzi of the Ordo Malleus was reading the transcript of the Liberation of Globus, as he thought of adding Commissar General Steve to his retinue,a massive figure entered his office. "Ah, you have returned from Malfi, a productive trip I hope." Amazzi greeted the Pilgrim. As he rose to greet his most trusted servant, he felt a sharp pain in his chest. He looked down to find the Emperor's Mercy protruding from his chest. Gurgling blood, Amazzi looked up to see the Pilgrim's eyes burning with hate. "I have seen past the lies, Lord. I have seen the frailty of the Emperor and the imminent ascension of the Warp Gods. Your Crusade is in vain." Mologomus removed his blade from the Inquisitor, and in one swift motion decapitated Amazzi. "I am Mologomus, the Pilgrim of Hate."

Commissar General Steve led the Promethean 653rd into battle against the Moldorian 26th. The Lord Governor of Moldor had decided to expand his borders into the neighboring Prometheus System. In the soot clogged trenches of Forge World Prometheus, the Promethean 653rd fought their fellow man to the death in brutal hand to hand combat. Captain Desetch drove his chainsword deep into the guts of a Moldorian Commissar, filling the air with red mist. Private Stansfield tripped on a corpse and accidently flung his entire brace of grenades into a Moldorian bunker, killing all inside with a tremendous explosion. Lord Militant Krugelshrieber stabbed a ballpoint pen deep into eye of a Moldorian officer, causing him to scream as his eye popped like a grape, and sprayed the Lord Militant with red ichor. A Kriegernaut pattern super-heavy tank cut a bloody swath through the Moldorian ranks with it's super-heavy melta cannon. It's heavy flamers reduced the Moldorian infantry to not but cinder and charred bones. They would teach them the ways of war. They would show Lord Governor Maldrek his folly. Not a single Moldorian would leave this world alive.

"MEN OF PROMETHEUS, FIGHT TO KEEP THIS WORLD YOUR OWN! SEND THESE BASTARDS TO HELL! MOTIVATE THEM!" Commissar Steve swung a Moldorian stormtrooper like a club, using the broken body to bludgeon a enemy officer to death. A Moldorian Baneblade rolled it's way over the no man's land that separated the Moldorian and Promethean trench networks. It would wreak untold destruction upon the defenders if it was allowed to reach the Promethean trench system. That was unacceptable.

The Moldorian crew of the Baneblade had the Promethean trenches in site. Tanking aim with it's huge cannon, it fired a massive shell at a Kriegernaut, sending the top rocketing off into the air like a cork. As soon the Baneblade rolled over those trenches, the sooner the Moldorians would secure their victory. Taking aim at Lord Militant Krugelshrieber, the Baneblade readied itself to fire. The Moldorian gunner was shocked to see that Krugelshrieber was not spread out across the Promethean sand. He swore, these guns never jammed. Something must be clogging the barrel. Promethean soot, possibly. Why did gak like this always happen when he tried to fire the cannon? Bloody enginseers had been drinking again, most like. "What the hell are you doing up there?!" shouted David's superior, "Are you spanking up there, or are you going to fire the bloody cannon?" "Guns jammed, somethings in the barrel. Can't fire a damn shot until it's unclogged." he replied. "Well do it soon, I'd rather not sit here while a thousand vengeful Prometheans take potshots at us!" As David opened the loading breech, a gloved fist flew out of the breech and smashed across his unprotected face, turning his flesh into jelly, and his bones to powder. Commissar Steve crawled the rest of the way out of the breech, and dropped into the command pod. A bewildered commander was torn in half by manly fingers, making a right awful mess inside the Moldorian tank. Beating the last man's head inside his ribcage, Steve exited the Baneblade, a plan forming in his mind.

Lord Governor Maldrek surveyed the battlefield with a practiced eye. It seemed the Prometheus was in his grasp. If his Baneblade had crossed the trenches, then he had already won. As he sipped his tea, he notices something rather odd. A large black shape, was making it's way towards his command station. It bounced in an odd sort of way, like it was a shape that normally did not do such things. Then with cold certainty he realized: the Baneblade. The Baneblade was bouncing towards him! With a horrified scream, the massive tank bored down on him, crushing him beneath it's weight, pinning his right leg. Screaming in agony, he dimly perceived a man in a greatcoat towering above him. He leaned down, at eye level. "YOU TRIED TO TAKE MY WORLD AWAY FROM ME! YOU ARE TRASH! Steve bellowed as he lifted the broken body of the Lord Governor from the wreckage, holding him aloft with one manly arm. Pulling out Maldrek's spine with one deft motion, as not to instantly kill him, Steve wrapped the spinal column around the Moldorians' neck, and pulled. Steve continued pulling until Maldrek's head was cut from his neck by his own spine. With an ear-splitting roar, a fleet of daemon possessed vessels entered the atmosphere of Prometheus. Instantly, reality shuddered as daemon things spawned out onto the surface of the red world. As one, the daemon vessels rained down drop pods bearing the mark of Chaos. Traitor marines poured from the pods, turning their guns on Moldorian and Promethean alike. A towering figure led the assault, holding aloft a great banner, with the symbol of Chaos upon it. Atop a spike on top of the banner, the still preserved head of Inquisitor Amazzi. Mologomus, the Pilgrim of Hate had come to Prometheus. The very ground of the red world warped and transformed into a playground for Chaos, as greater Daemons walked the earth. His world was dyeing, but he would not let it go without a fight. Commissar General Steve drew Motivatus and charged into battle.
Continued in The Day Of The Commissar.