He closed his eyes and took three breaths, but when he looked again, nothing had changed. Who can now say what the truth of the matter ever was? CLOUD RUNNER GAZED on the wreckage of his home and felt like weeping.
Like all legends, it changes with the telling, so that every one who hears it and retells it perpetuates the process of change. What follows is just one of the legends of the Deathwing, the First Company of the Dark Angels chapter. History turns into legend, and even legends are slowly changed, finally forgotten. Like the sea beating against a cliff, time wears away all that has been built, all that has been created, all that has been dreamed. Only the undying Emperor endures, humanity's light in the darkness. All living beings are doomed to a mayfly existence, their brief efflorescence largely unnoticed among so many millions, billions of others. It touches everything, and its touch is change. TO BE A man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re‐learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.ĭEATHWING Bryan Ansell & William King THE PASSAGE OF time is ineluctable, irresistible. YET EVEN IN his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon‐infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican. the psychic manifestation of the Emperorʹs will. Vast armies give battle in His name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes. the Space Marines, bio‐engineered super‐warriors. Their comrades in arms arc legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever‐vigilant Inquisition and the tech‐priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they arc barely enough to hold off the ever‐present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants ‐ and worse. IT IS THE 41st millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls arc sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die. «Deathwing» Edited by Marc Gascoigne & Andy Jones DEATHWING Edited by Marc Gascoigne & Andy Jones
0 kommentar(er)
