Nine days had passed, and things had got worse for unit 14c. Casari had returned after his beating, his nose flattened against his face and several teeth missing; the sound of breath moving through his shattered face (a sort of wet rattle) kept everyone from sleeping properly, Casari included. Khofi, increasingly paranoid in his interpretations of the unit's every glance, had added another week to their period of half-rations, and the air was far hotter and more stifling than it had any right to be in a controlled environment. The heat exhaustion, sleep deprivation and lack of food were combining to make them fall far behind the other units on their combat training, which lead to more punishment beatings.
At twenty minutes to official wake-up time, Madrin sat up. He looked around the cell and saw that the other nine were still lying down. He blew out through his nose, trying to stop the stench of urine from the piss-bucket by his bed from infiltrating his nostrils. It didn't work - it never worked. His gaze settled on Vimel Casari and he felt the familiar stab of guilt at the sight of his friend's face. He looked at the floor, then at his hand; his stomach rumbled audibly, drawing a breathy laugh from the man sleeping next to him, Ginyard Salsot. Madrin stood, carefully picked his way across the prone men to get to the coat-hooks on the wall, took his and Casari's jackets.
Over the next few minutes everyone in unit 14c got up and got dressed: with a tired carefulness they checked that their uniforms were in order, then checked each other - Khofi had taken to punishing them collectively, so nobody could afford a uniform violation. At twelve minutes to the official wake-up time, unit 14c were standing to attention in two rows. They stood there, still and silent, for the two minutes until custodian Khofi's walked into view: they took care then to stare directly ahead, to make sure their backs were rod-straight.
Khofi walked cockily into view, flanked by two assistant custodians. He snapped smartly around to face them, malicious grin plastered over his face. Madrin noticed, out of the corner of his eye, that one of the assistant custodians was holding a large bag.
"Right then, you scum. Today is a very important day. We are almost at our destination, you see. Compliance position two, all of you."
They all placed their hands above their heads, fingers threaded. The assistant custodian to Khofi's left unlocked the door and slid it open. Khofi reached into the bag and pulled out a thick metal collar; it was hanging open at a hinge.
"So far, we have been keeping you in line with fear of pain," - his gaze lingered for a moment on Casari - "But in the heat of battle, that is sometimes not enough. These collars will provide a greater fear: they are packed with enough explosives to take your head clean off. And I can trigger any one of them with this." - he waved a little shiny remote control - "And before any of you vermin get any funny ideas: if I die, then three random collars will explode."
Khofi put the remote into his pocket, looked over unit 14c. They were still standing to attention, but he could see the nervous fear radiating off of them.
"Prisoner 14c01. Larek Dag. Get over here."
----
Dutal was on his knees, scrubbing the floor of the same section of gun-deck corridor that he had cleaned daily from the last three years - not that he knew exactly how long it had been since he had been pressed into service. It was a lonely, mind-destroying task: the only real human contact he had was with his supervisor, and the seven other men who shared his cabin. He hadn't had a proper conversation in all the time he had been on board.
The sound of boots on the metal floor, getting closer: Dutal started working faster; this time, if he sees how hard I'm working, maybe he'll leave me alone. The footsteps stopped at the end of the corridor behind Dutal. For a long moment there was no sound save that of the bristles of the scrubbing-brush rubbing against the floor.
"What are you doing?"
Dutal continued scrubbing, closed his eyes tightly. The footsteps started again, then stopped: Dutal could feel Travis looming over him. He could feel an ache over his back - a memory of old beatings. A part of him wanted to run away, but he knew that would only make things much worse. Another part - a tiny, almost-crushed inch of his being - screamed out to turn around and fight. But it was a very small part.
"You're going too fast, you ... you idiotic shit-head!"
The kick hit Dutal in the stomach, sent him sprawling on the floor. Dutal looked up at Travis, resigned to receiving another beating: he made no movement. Travis spat a green gob of phlegm at him: it clung to his ragged work-clothes.
"Fucking slave. No fucking pride. Stand up, you dog-fucking piece of shit!"
Dutal stood slowly, watching Travis for an indication of another blow, bracing himself against the wall. When Dutal was fully standing, Travis took a step towards him, smiling as the other man flinched at his approach.
"See, now: you've had plenty of time to get used to the job. Keeping the corridor clean, I think that should even be within your sub-human capacity. So that only leaves one explanation." - He delivered a quick jab to the gut, making Dutal double over - "I think you're fucking with me. Stand- STAND THE FUCK UP!"
In spite of the acute pain in his gut, Dutal stood. He felt nauseous; he sputtered:
"N-no, ple-ease-"
"No? Did you just- did I hear right? Are you trying to tell me what to do? Bastard!" - he slapped Dutal's face with the back of his hand - "Whoreson!" - and again. He let out a scream of frustration and kneed Dutal in the groin; Dutal threw up over him.
"You- you dare- you fucking dare to vomit on me, you fucking parasite!?" - he pulled his knife out from his belt, brought it up to Dutal's face:
"I'll teach you a lesson you'll never forget." - he cut across Dutal's cheek, leaving a nasty gash; a flash of white light filled the corridor, though Dutal couldn't see it's source through Travis - "Hm. I wonder if you'll do your job any better with one eye-"
"Stop." - It was a woman's voice, a voice used to command. Travis spun around to face-
It was an impressive sight; the snowy white fur and feathers, the shifting borealan mane blowing in non-existent wind. Celestia walked towards him, hooves making a sharp click as they collided with the metal floor.
"What are you doing to this poor man?" - she was less than a foot from Travis now: panicked, he lunged with his knife; but his arm stopped mid-arc, a shimmering white light surrounding it. He looked at his hand and the winged pegasus in horror as his fingers were pried off of the knife - it didn't hurt, but it was an irresistible force. The knife floated up high, and then flew off behind the alien creature. He felt the pressure on his arm release; the creature turned to Dutal.
"Oh, my, that's a nasty cut ... here, let me-"
Her horn glowed, and so did the cut on Dutal's face. First the pain dulled, then he felt a strange sensation: as though his flesh was knitting together. He reached up and touched his cheek - it was slick with blood, and the flesh felt a little tight, but there was no wound. Dutal looked at Celestia, smiled weakly.
"Uh- ah, thank you."
She nodded.
"You're welcome. I don't suppose you could give me directions to the bridge..?"
"Uh-uhm, I ... I don't know where that is, sorry, I've only ever seen these sections of corridor. A-and the broadside guns."
"I see." - she turned to face Travis - "And do you know where the bridge of this ship is?"
Travis backed away from her, fear in his eyes, urine trickling down his leg. He opened his mouth, but only a quiet whimper emanated. Celestia raised an eyebrow.
"Never mind, I'll find it by myself. And I'll be watching you, so don't do this again."
Her horn glowed, a sphere of bright white light appeared around Celestia, and she disappeared.
----
Breakfast at the custodians' mess was of higher quality to the rank-and-file: today they were being served reclaimed sausages and fried red potato, as opposed to the prisoners' thin algae soup and lentil-bread. Most of the custodians were finishing their meals and getting up to leave, but colonel-custodian Mangum had not had time to eat: he was receiving a very disturbing report.
"All of it?" he was fanning himself with a sheaf of papers, looking at the senior vat-minder disbelievingly. The vat-minder - a lanky, bespectacled man of perhaps forty, with a nervous disposition quite unsuited to space travel - shuffled his feet, forced himself to meet the colonel's gaze.
"S-sir, it's an ongoing situation, with the emperor's blessing we might s-salvage one of the vats, but..." he trailed off, feeling foolish at the colonel's unblinking stare. Mangum leaned forwards in his chair.
"What exactly does this mean?"
"Er, a-at current rates of spoilage, the regiment will have enough food to last for ... maybe a week. Plus their emergency rations, of course-"
"Shut up."
Mangum considered the implications: if the algae vats were spoiled, then the Divine Might of Right would not be able to supply his soldiers with food; not without breaking into the ship's own supplies, which he doubted the fat admiral would countenance. The colonel had no qualms with his prisoners starving, but he had an emperor-sworn duty to make sure they were up to the fight. Maybe we can procure food on the alien world? - he didn't fancy trying whatever monstrous half-formed abominations doubtlessly passed for food amongst these 'Equestrians', but having his soldiers try it-
Mangum's train of thought was interrupted by a commotion outside his door: he could hear the unmistakable sounds of a panicked mass, and his blood ran cold. Are the prisoners rebelling? Surely not-
"Colonel!" - the scared cry from outside snapped him out of his building panic. He picked up his laspistol and walked to the door (ignoring the trembling vat-minder), swung it open and stepped into the custodian's mess.
The entire room was bathed in light; at the centre of the commotion, surrounded by a wide circle of custodians (some staring slack-jawed, some aiming at it, some looking to their weapons in confusion) stood the most beautiful creature he had ever seen. It's wings were flared open, horn glowing, a single front hoof raised curiously. She looked at him and spoke clearly in a woman's voice, with a tone of strained patience.
"You. Are you in charge of these?"
Mangum almost took a step backwards, but the weight of his laspistol gave him strength.
"Yes." - he swung the gun up to shoot-
-and the pistol was pulled out of his hand, thrown across the mess by an invisible force. Celestia started walking towards him, slowly, voice trembling with rage.
"You are in charge of this? You keep these people in cages, brutalise them, injure them!? Is this the camaraderie of the Imperial Guard that I heard so much about?"
She was looming over him now, looking down into his eyes. He could feel his knees going weak. He started patting his belt for his painstick. She continued:
"I will remember your face. I will find you, personally, if you step foot on-"
He swung the painstick up, electricity crackling over its surface, aiming for the creature's neck; it made contact and she screamed, took a step backwards. Mangum could see that he had cut the creature, there was a small amount of red blood seeping from the wound. He stepped forwards to press his advantage: there was a retina-scarringly bright white flash, and the creature disappeared.
----
"Lord Darkium on the bridge!"
The guard's shout made admiral Kil-ban-Ocean jump, releasing a small amount of gas and causing his thurifer to move. The admiral crane his neck to confirm, yes, that damned Inquisitor really is here again, then opened his mouth.
"Ah, Lord-"
"Send the lift down now, admiral."
Kil-ban-Ocean hesitated for a moment, then turned and nodded to one of the tech-priests.
"It's sending it down now, Lord Inquisitor; to what do I owe the honour of this visit?"
There was no reply, only the high-pitched hum of the lift's struggling old motor. Perhaps he's come to complain about the cold again? ...no, he's probably been monitoring onboard communications, he knows about this little problem! The admiral forced his face into the practised idiot grin that had led many to underestimate him, and the lift shuddered to a halt. Darkium stepped forward, anger painted over his face, loomed over the admiral. Kil-ban-Ocean widened his grin, met the Inquisitor's gaze.
"Why was I not informed immediately of the situation?"
"I assume you are referring to these reports of an alien on my sh-"
"You know damned well what I am talking about, admiral. Why was I not informed the instant you heard about this intrusion?"
"Lord Inquisitor, I was about to contact you. I did not wish to warn you until I was sure that these reports were accurate-"
The Inquisitor took another step forwards, hand resting on the butt of his pistol.
"It is not for you to make those judgements, admiral. This ship is seconded to me, and you command it by my sufferance. Do you understand?"
The admiral narrowed his eyes, dropped the smile. He felt his lip twisting into a snarl of contempt, but had enough self-control to stop that.
"Yes. I understand."
"When was the first report of the alien's presence?"
Kil-ban-Ocean glanced at the gold-plated Holy Timekeeper to his side, then back to the Inquisitor.
"About forty minutes ago."
"Within an hour of returning to realspace."
"Yes."
Darkium gave him a cold look.
"That was not a question. How far are we from the planet?"
"At our current speed, we should be in position to deploy the soldiers in just under seventeen hours."
"Can we-"
White light and a sound of held breath being released both came from behind Darkium; then there was the sound of regularly beating wings.
A long while ago - when he was barely a fully-fledged Inquisitor - Grimmus Darkium had killed a daemon. It had been on the garden-world of Gaiala, in the aftermath of a foiled Eldar plan: of course, it had turned out that they were the only thing holding back the warp-spawned monstrosity. The daemon - a vast, wriggling mass of slime and toothed tendrils - had seemed fundamentally unreal; sickeningly out-of-focus.
The alien creature hovering in front of him, beating it's wings to keep level with the admiral's podium, gave quite the opposite effect. It looked somehow more real than the command chamber. The white of it's hair and feathers, the clear pink of it's large eyes, the shifting colours of it's mane and tail; all contrasted strikingly with the foreboding darkness and garishly-impressive gold of the surroundings: but something else drew his gaze. It was as if the alien was bleeding into the foreground.
It had an impressive, regal presence. Grimmus took a second to glance around: the admiral and his thurifer were gazing, slack-jawed, in awe of the alien. Kil-ban-Ocena's bodyguard was slowly lowering his arms, trying to take in what was going on; one of the tech-priests was looking, confused, while another was too engrossed in whatever systems he was monitoring to pay any attention. The alien spoke with the voice of a woman, and Grimmus' attention snapped to it.
"So," she said in a calm tone that (Grimmus suspected, from the heavy bruise on the neck) hid whatever emotions she was feeling; "which one of you is the leader?"
The question snapped Grimmus out of the daze the alien's appearance had caused; in two jerking, lightning-fast movements he pulled out his plasma pistol and took aim.
"SHOOT IT!" he shouted, a fraction of a second before his finger recognised a disturbing smoothness where his pistol's trigger should have been. There was a horrible weight in the pit of his stomach that only grew heavier as he looked at his gun, confirming that the trigger was missing. A quick glance over the side of the podium told him that the command chamber's guards were experiencing the same problem.
"That would be you, then. What is your name?"
The alien was slowly moving closer. Grimmus dropped his pistol, moved his arms to be ready to grab his sword and strike; I'll play along, to buy time...
"I am Lord Darkium, of the Holy Inqui-"
"You're an Inquisitor? You were the one to find out about us?"
It knows of the Inquisition? That traitor Raleigh must have told them ... she's nearly close enough now...
"That I was."
"Wel Raleigh didn't give you this information freely. Is he dead?"
"YES!" - Grimmus pulled out his sword and lunged at the creature; but a sudden force acted over his whole body. He was stuck mid-arc, a pale light playing over him. Celestia looked at his sword with an expression of disdain: with a creak the blade began to bend - all the way around, until the end was pointing at Grimmus's eye, mere inches from his face. She landed on the lift platform, but kept her wings erect. She looked to one of the tech-priests and clicked in the static-esque secret language of the Mechanicum. The tech-priest was stunned into silence for a few seconds, then replied; the alien let out another short burst, and the tech-priest turned to his console.
"What are you- how do you know the language of the tech-priests?" - it was Kil-ban-Ocean; "What did you say!?"
The winged unicorn ignored him and looked at Grimmus. Suddenly he felt the pressure holding him in place leave; he stumbled uncouthly and dropped his sword off the side of the podium.
"How did he die?"
Grimmus met her gaze, his upper lip curved up with contempt.
"Slowly."
"And his daughter?"
"Hah! It's only a matter of time before my agents find her-"
"In the Emperor's name," - it was Kil-ban-Ocean; "What is going on!? Who- what are you?"
"She's a- a daemon!"
This elicited a snort of laughter from Celestia.
"Oho! Daemon! You are a very limited little person, aren't you? I'm no daemon. There is a word to describe me, but daemon is certainly not it."
Kil-ban-Ocean was on his feet now.
"Then what are you?"
She finally deigned to look at him now, the slightest hint of a smile emerging on her face.
"I raise the sun every morning, and I raise the moon every night. That is not a boast, or a metaphor: I have just told your tech-priest to look at the orbital mechanics of this system. When he is done he will tell you that they do not make sense, not without some outside force. I am that force. What do you think would be the right word?"
"Heresy!" sputtered Grimmus; "The God-Emperor of Mankind is the only true god! I know what you are, I name you-"
Celestia took a step towards the Inquisitor, looking deep into his eyes.
"You do not know what I am. If you did you would turn this ship around, and run back to your home, and hide in your bed, and pray to your corpse of a god that I do not come to seek revenge for the murder of my friend!"
Grimmus fell flat on his arse; for the first time in a long time he felt fear. He opened his mouth to speak, but his lips felt numb; there was a flash of light over his lower face, and they had been transformed into two tracks of a zipper, which promptly closed. Celestia rested a hoof on his chest.
"That's enough out of you." - she turned her head to face the admiral; "I know that you are here to kill us all. Before you make the attempt, you should know something: the value we place on friendship. We are kind and generous to strangers: we offer them food, and shelter, and whatever we can afford to give. But if that stranger were to harm our friends, we would not be quick to forgive. If someone was so foolish as to kill one of my friends - well. I would make sure they were unable to do so again. Wel Raleigh was my friend. I helped to raise his daughter - and if anything had happened to her, it would be the worse for you. His murderer will be punished."
She took her hoof off of Grimmus and turned to face the admiral fully; she spoke louder now, making sure the whole command centre could hear.
"The only thing stopping me from tearing your Imperium apart is the knowledge of the toll it would take on my little ponies. But know this, admiral: for every hair put out of place on the manes of every pony killed, or hurt, or inconvenienced by your invasion; I will rip a whole world out of your reach."
There was silence for half a minute; Kil-ban-Ocean was speechless, and nobody else would dare speak up. Celestia smirked; her horn glowed brightly for an instant, and then she and the Inquisitor disappeared in a flash of light.
awesome chapter with that knowledge of Celestia the only thing that cold probably stand a chance against her is the gray knights, but then again space marines who encounter them have memory erased of there encounter with the gray knights and all Guardsmen units who fight with gray knights are executed by the inquisition to keep there existence a myth
Not sure I like the turn this has taken. Most of the special characters in the tabletop make Celestial look like a Snotling, and enough Guardsmen can take them down. Inquisitors wouldn't be afraid by an alien on the ship, they'd be pissed beyond belief
I think Celestia is probably on the high end of the power scale in terms of WH40K, but that she'd be something of a glass cannon: unless she was prepared, or had the element of surprise (and she had both of those things here), a single shot from a lasgun could take her down.
You're kidding, right?
And suddenly the bridge of ship was filled with holy white light, and the immaculate and clean form of Kaldor Draigo appeared.
"Who are you?" Celestia quickly asked, surprised.
Kaldor reached up and unsealed his helmet, revealing Matt Ward. He quickly punched Celestia in the cunt with the force of twenty trillion Psycannons, instantly destroying her and spreading a wave of imperial pride throughout the universe destroying every single alien, mutant, and heretic forever
Can I out-wank the Ultramarines with the ponies?
Let's find out.
Don't make her angry.
fc04.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2011/284/3/3/celestia_goes_supernova_by_nightshroud-d4ckhkn.jpg
YOU WON'T LIKE HER WHEN SHE'S ANGRY.
At last, a proper writing of Celestia as insanely powerful.
965402
Um. Celestia can move a star through more than 110 degrees of arc in a matter of seconds, and hold herself literally still. I think that I'd probably put her just below Nightbringer (in his full doom-of-the-eldar, living-embodiment-of-death star vampire form; not his pansy-ass tabletop shard) which means that Nightbringer, the Outsider, probably The Emperor and possibly the four Ruinous Powers combined are the only things that outclass her.
And I am not entirely sure, having written this that the Nightbringer outclasses her either.
1075757 different mythologies had different ideas of what the sun is, and no geocentric system ever depicted it as being the size of a real star. Not to mention that Equestrian magic is highly specialized, so just because she can move a star (that, again, is probably extremely miniature) doesn't mean she'll be able to apply that to combat. Let's not forget her getting her ass handed to her by a changeling amped up on love--it's fairly clear the comparison Nightbringer (who made every race in the galaxy fear death) is a little unfair, and that's not even going into the Ruinous Powers, a.k.a. "the blokes what kept a lighyears-wide portal open for ten thousand years and counting"
I can't help but feel like the Black Templars or another chapter are going to make her regret that "corpse" remark
1075808
I have a reasonably thought out response to this:
1) Geocentricity makes more sense, since its either that or move the entire planet, which would end up with some very, very dead ponies very very easily.
2) Celestia refers to it as a star (and the Cogboys have yet to notice anything weird about the star) so that means that it likely is a standard star and lies on the main sequence.
3) A bit of rough calculation suggests that even moving a star at a constant velocity would incur a minimum energy of 3.8*10^51 J (multiplied by two to keep Celestia in place). Note that this is a gross underestimation, as Celestia also has to accelerate and decelerate the star, and keep it spherical.
This equates to the equivalent of 42000 solar masses of energy every morning and evening. Bare Minimum.
Not to mention she has to stop Equestria falling in to the sun and run a kingdom and raise the moon for a thousand years.
1017004
You don't need to out-wank the Ultrasmurfs with Ponies. I have just worked out that Celestia expends more energy than the entire race of C'tan at their height aspired to.
Before breakfast.
1075987 it wasn't until she ordered them (and they obeyed for some fucking reason, but that's another can of worms) that they even looked at the star system. It's very likely that she's not particularly strong on a 40k scale, given that, again, Chrysalis outshot her with only the love of one pony, and love is a pitiful force compared to the more primal emotion the Ruinous Powers draw their energy from.
Celestia<Emotions of one pony
Dark Gods= Emotions of uncounted Trillions.
1075987
Even if she does have such a ridiculous scale of power, and assuming it isn't actually a specialised 'move the sun' spell rather than telekinesis, that doesn't necessarily mean she can use that power in a useful way: maybe the bulk of her powers are used up moving the sun, maybe she doesn't have the kind of fine control to use her powers in a fight. Also, with the Imperium, all it would take to defeat the ponies would be a single Inquisitorial ship with a single cyclonic torpedo to go undetected...
And, of course, powerful != invincible, just because she can lift the sun doesn't mean a lucky lasgun shot couldn't kill her.
1076357
Actually, you don't know if they obeyed, only that Celestia told the admiral that she told the techpriests to do that... but if they decided not to take orders from some alien (quite likely with an inquisitor in the room), the admiral would surely want to check out her boast.
Whether Celestia on her own would be able to carry out on that "One pony hurt, one world destroyed" threat by herself is open to debate. However, I get the feeling that she's threatening to sic not just herself, but as much of Equestria as she can militarise on the Empire. Celestia and Luna alone are capable of controlling the celestial (pun intended) mechanics of an entire solar system. The Empire is ridiculously stubborn at times, but I somehow doubt even they would be able to do much when their planets are thrown into eternal day, night, or just into the sun. Also, it would be interesting to see what the Elements of Harmony could do, although I admit, they would most probably only be useful against Chaos related threats.
That being said, speaking as someone who plays Black Templars, they would undoubtedly be a major problem if the Empire decided to get serious. Or the Space Wolves. Especially the GreyKnights. Or any of the other chapters.
Let us see what happens if our dear celestia is tricked into setting hoof on a Necron tomb world. The flayed ones await their new coat.
Your grossly over estimateing her power. I understand that she had the element of surprise, and that threat about ending us... . I want to see bitch sun butt, defeat an fleet while fighting demons, and a warp storm. Also is they do find this wold unclaimable, whats stoping them from blowing the planet from orbit?
Corpse of a god.... HERESY!!!
The might and glory of the God-emperor is the most pure and powerful thing in existence. So what you can control one measly protostar, the God-emperor can control hundreds of true stars at the same time! We have so much military fire power we could toss our soldiers from orbit and cover the planet. You are nothing you filthy heretical daemon!
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1034569
1075757
Yeah Celestia and Luna are fucking pussies compared to the God-Emperor of Man. Even when he's on the Golden Throne he's powerful enough to create a massive hole in reality that has been going for millennia. Big-E can literally obliterate souls, the only reason that kept Horus from getting shit-stomped from across the galaxy is the fact that Emps still though he could be redeemed. It took the sacrifice of Ollanius Pious to convince E-Money that Horus had gone full Chaos and from there Horus had his soul obliterated. E-Daddy is so powerful that he scares the piss out of ALL FOUR CHAOS GODS EVEN WHEN HE'S ON THE THRONE!! And let me remind you that the Gods of Chaos include;
- War and physical strength incarnate
- A mollusk with a bird fetish that has planned out literally everything
- All diseases that have, currently, and will exist ever made sentient and has champions that cause plagues just by stepping onto a planet
- He/She/It that jerks off to anything you can imagine and has ALL THE FETISHES
(Keep in mind that all 4 of these beings melt minds simply by being within 1,000 kIlometers of mortals)
And Big-E scares the shit out of these 4 reality tumors despite being on life support.
On the 40k scale Celestia and Luna are powerful. But even combined Emps could still kick their ass. Anything they could do The Emperor could reverse without breaking a sweat. Also keep in mind that the range of the Astronomican is his psychic influence. AKA all of the Imperium and more. Hell Space Marines could probably kill Celestia and Luna.
1075987 The C'tan are like Parasprites in the sense that they will never stop. And will never be satisfied until they have eaten all the souls. I think that amount of energy would qualify as a quick snack for them.
HAHA! This is the most Badass I've seen in Celestia! awsome!