Do not try my patience, mon-keigh.

I have no interest in pitiful mon-keigh rites. I speak of something different. Do not make me repeat myself.

The abomination herself! Oh, I will take great pleasure in gouging out her accursed eye!

The soul of Yremeryss, the Archon of the Reaving Tempest. It should belong to me. I do not know where... I do not know how... but that bitch tried to dispatch me without sullying her own hands and she deserves to lose her life. Her soul will remain in my Soul-Trap.

I could sense your craving the second you stepped onto the bridge... And I crave the same. Come.

What is wrong, Rogue Trader? Are you scared of what I have begun to uncover within you? Can your weak mon-keigh heart not endure my truth?

A sore spot with you, is it not?

Your kind step beyond the veil with nothing but your crude technologies and prayers to a deaf god, and you expect those such as I to rely on such paltry protection from the terrors of She Who Thirsts?

I have grown tired of all this chatter... but...if I cut out the heart of that decrepit wreck myself, it will have been worth it!

Hmm. That is true. But I am not merely a hireling, Rogue Trader. It is strange you did not consider that when you offered me an alliance. But... it does not matter.

I intrigue you? An interesting turn of phrase. You are not afraid of me, but... intrigued by me? Well. Perhaps I will deign to satisfy your curiosity. If you submit to me.

Trust? How unreliable. No, I simply abducted and tortured the Kabalite who was privy to this secret. There is even a chance that Yremeryss believed the story about the pathetic weakling running off.

Why not? You have failed to appreciate what I have offered you. You must make amends for your transgression. My request is very simple — a sacrifice from your inner circle. I will have my fun and, perhaps, forget your offence. To me... it is a small price to pay.

Are you incapable of remembering my name? I can carve it into the inside of your eyelids if your memory is failing you, old mon-keigh.

Nazrakhei is dead. Sinisthoria is dead. And all those cowards and sycophants are dead, every last one of them!

Careful with your choice of terms, mon-keigh. Or I will demonstrate my expertise in flaying victims alive, here and now.

Only that they wander, blind and helpless, robbed of their home and hope... But why am I telling you this? Isn't it your duty to watch over your kin, Outcast?

I and my attention are yours, Rogue Trader.

You tried to acquire a pet once already — and how did that go? Surely you do not think that your imaginary leash, which failed to restrain Yrliet, would succeed in holding me?

I can almost feel the claws of She Who Thirsts clamping around our souls! The sooner we leave this place, the better. Have your servants void this compartment once we are gone.