Erasmus Luren
The Omnissiah did not fail us. Those who broke their faith failed Him. Those who lacked the fortitude to endure when tested. Who demanded aid when strength was already theirs. They failed Him. You failed Him.
Erasmus Luren is a techseer of the fallen Forge World Gryphonne IV. He serves as the master of techseers aboard the Explorator ship Peregrinus and the ship's Ductrix, Explorator Superior Talin Sherax.[1a]
Overview
Luren is well-known among Gryphonne IV's tech priests to be one of many subordinates in service to Supreme Lector Katrovax.[1c]
As Sherax's chief techseer his duties include maintaining the sanctity of the ship’s systems. During Warp travel Luren would lead processions throughout the ship. He would be followed at a procedurally correct distance by a small train of acolytes and thralls, who each bore one of the many tools of Luren’s craft – electro-censer, apotropaic totem, crozius mechanicus, runic hammer. The priest himself was unencumbered, as befitted his station.[1c]
History
Luren was no stranger to broken machine spirits. As a techseer, he had restored to functionality the anima of countless machines. While the Peregrinus’ cohort of artificers could patch-weld a holed plate of armour or rethread the crystalline circuitry of a cogitator, Luren repaired their souls. Without his sanctification, the armour would shatter beneath the merest blow; the cogitator would falter when confronted with the simplest inputs. Luren was minister and mechanic. His tools were the unguent, the hammer, and the prayer.[1b]
It was in prayer that Luren most excelled. He had attained something of a reputation for the elegance of his fractal psalms, and the force of his axiomatic declarations. In the days that followed the destruction of Gryphonne IV, the techseer had been selected by the forge-synod to help formulate the hexamantic eulogy for their lost world. He had been one of many authors; more than eighty per cent of the escaping magi had contributed code-shards, exloading their pain and sorrow as an attempt to purge themselves of unwanted emotions. Luren and the rest of the assembled conclave had taken their collective anguish and sculpted it into a song, a hymnal of sublime mathematic poetry to capture the death of an empire.[1b]
Luren had set the eulogy to run continuously among his background subroutines – a permanent addition to his psyche. It was the proudest achievement of his long life, but his pride did not temper the agony of the loss that he had memorialised.[1b]
