Jump to content


Καλωσήλθατε στο .aNiMe//GR!


Sign In 

Create Account
Καλωσήλθατε στο .aNiMe//GR, ένα ελληνικό forum για τα anime, τα manga και την ιαπωνική κουλτούρα. Βλέπετε την ιστοσελίδα μας σαν επισκέπτης και δεν έχετε πρόσβαση σε όλες τις υπηρεσίες που είναι διαθέσιμες για τα μέλη μας! Η εγγραφή σας στην διαδικτυακή κοινότητά μας θα σας επιτρέψει να δημοσιεύσετε νέα μηνύματα στο forum, να ψηφίσετε σε δημοσκοπήσεις, να πάρετε μέρος σε διαγωνισμούς μας και πολλές άλλες επιπλέον υπηρεσίες που είναι διαθέσιμες για τα μέλη σας. Η εγγραφή σας είναι γρήγορη, εύκολη και φυσικά δωρεάν. Ελάτε και εσείς στην κοινότητά μας σήμερα!

Αν συναντήσετε οποιοδήποτε πρόβλημα κατά την εγγραφή σας ή με την πρόσβαση σας στο forum, παρακαλούμε μην διστάσετε να επικοινωνήσετε μαζί μας.
 

Photo
- - - - -

Warhammer 40.000 Wargame


  • Please log in to reply
5 replies to this topic

#1 Shiro_Tamori

Shiro_Tamori

    Ryu

  • Members
  • 207 posts
  • LocationDeni-Kai Dojo, Greekugan

Posted 25 December 2008 - 01:09

In the Grim Darkness of the Far Future, there is only War...

Eισαγωγικό για την υπόθεση Warhammer 40.000 το γνωστό παιχνίδι στρατηγικής με μινιατούρες στο οποίο βασίζεται το επίσης γνωστό real time strategy Dawn of War.

Ο κόσμος του Warhammer 40.000 ή 40K, αν και συμπεριλαμβάνει πολλές φυλές και ακόμη περισσότερες ιστορίες και θρύλους, βασίζεται στην ιστορία της φυλής των ανθρώπων. Τις δικής μας φυλής που και στο 40K γεννήθηκαν και μεγάλωσαν στον πλανήτη Γη, μέχρι που αποίκησαν ένα πολύ μεγάλο μέρος του Γαλαξία και έχτισαν την Αυτοκρατορία (Imperium).

Οδηγός και υπέρμαχος της ανθρωπότητας σε όλη της την πορεία μέχρι και την τεσσαρακοστή χιλιετία, υπήρξε ο Αυτοκράτορας.

Posted Image

Μετά από την μάχη του με τον προδότη Horus και τις δυνάμεις του Χάους, ο Αυτοκράτορας παραμένει ακίνητος, σχεδόν σε κώμα, στον Χρυσό του Θρόνο για περισσότερο από 10.000 χρόνια.

Στο παρακάτω κείμενο θα δείτε ποιός είναι ο αυτοκράτορας και πως ξεκίνησε η Αυτοκρατορία της ανθρώπινης φυλής.

THE EMPEROR (Realm of Chaos: The Lost and the Damned)

Thanks to the Imperial Cult millions upon millions of people are familiar with the traditional fables about the Emperor. Children sing his praises and listen to stories about his life. This is the Emperor that humanity knows - the Emperor of the Imperial Cult. Such is the power of the cult, and so great is the need of man to believe in its authenticity, that no-one questions its authority. As for the Emperor himself, he has neither spoken nor moved for ten thousand years. Thus the true story the Emperor's extraordinary life prior to his incarceration in the life-preserving Golden Throne is now almost wholly submerged by the pious doctrine of the Ecclesiarchy.

...The Emperor was born in the region of Earth known as Central Anatolia (a region of Turkey) in the eighth millennium BC, a place of barren mountains and cold streams.

With the waking of the warp, humanity was laid bare to its energies. The warp is an alternate universe composed entirely of psychic energy generated by the thoughts, emotions and intellectual activity of living beings. The warp, to a much lesser extent, is also influenced by plants and animals. It is sometimes known as the Sea of Souls because of its spiritual reflection of life, but it is also known as the Realm of Chaos.

When the universe was young, the warp was filled with the energies of plants and primitive animals and these psychic energies were relatively harmless; they flowed harmoniously and fluidly through all living things. With the evolution of intelligent beings, their potent minds filled the warp with new and very powerful energies.

The natural energies of the warp was harmonious but the souls of men were troubled, obsessive, guilt ridden, or imperfect. These negative energies congregated together in the warp, drawn to each other by mutual attraction, until they formed troublesome spots of disharmony, rather like a tumour in an animal. These disharmonious forces eventually became the Chaos Powers, the psychic entities we now face today. They were created from the fears, repressions and inadequacies of intelligent beings.

In the Emperor's early life the Chaos Powers were not strong and only achieved power many, many, thousands of years later.

Since the first primitive humans evolved, the species developed a special relationship with the warp. The simple hunters and harvesters of early times recognised the natural forces which flowed through all living things. Those of them that could predict the future and sense the flow of warp energy were known as shamans or tribal witch doctors. They used their powers to benefit their people.

As human numbers increased and human civilisation grew away from its natural roots, the particular warp energies created by humans began to dominate the warp. Where the energies of nature were harmonious and benign, those of man were often unpredictable and dangerous. Power, ambition, greed, lust and a thousand other human feelings took root in the warp and began to grow. As the thoughts of men became stronger, the natural rhythms of the warp were disrupted and became less accessible to the shamans. Inevitably, the process of civilisation severed mankind's links with the natural forces of the warp, and created new ones based upon his own character. In time disharmonious forces were to grow into the Chaos Powers.

The Emperor was born while the rhythm of the warp still flowed strongly through all natural things. The old shamans were guided by the warp and in their turn guided their people. But even then the growing power of humanity was making itself felt, and the shamans feared that all their knowledge would pass away. The energies they depended were becoming more and more difficult to control. Worst still, they were losing their ability to reincarnate. When a shaman died his spirit would flow through the warp, bathing in its energies, awaiting for the time when it would find a new body. With this the shamans would never die. But now these souls were being consumed by the malignant Chaos Powers.

Terrified for the future of their race, all the shamans of Earth gathered in one place and began the longest and most important debate in the history of humanity, lasting centuries and leading to the birth of the New Man - the Emperor.

After hundreds of years of debate and research the Shamans realised that they were doomed, and that without them the human race would not survive. If they continued as they were they would only be able to survive for another one of two incarnations and the psychic entities of the warp would eventually consume the planet.

The Shamans decided to pool their own energies by incarnating into a single body. In their thousands the Shamans took poison, and in their thousands they died, and their kind was gone forever from Earth. A year later the man later to be known as the Emperor was born...

The Emperor and Human History

The Emperor had many gifts. He could ease the suffering of others and read people's minds. Most importantly he was immortal and would live forever, this the shamans made sure of because reincarnation would be impossible many thousands of years later. With the New Man being immortal he would have no need of reincarnation. He would remain unchanged through eternity.

For thirty eight thousand years the New Man wandered over the Earth and through human history. At first he merely observed the world about him, but soon he began to help where he could, using his ancient wisdom to spread efficient government, crop management, animal husbandry, technology, and peace. He always used his influence carefully, adopting the guise of a normal man, and without revealing his true nature.

Over the millennia the Emperor watched the human race develop. He travelled the entire globe, watching and helping, sometimes adopting the persona of a great leader or advisor. In times of trouble he became a crusader, a religious leader or messiah, at other times he remained a back-stage contributor to events, an advisor to kings, a court magician, a pioneering scientist. Many of the guises he adopted were humble, others became monumental figures of world history or religion. At times of crisis he would be there, steering the human race along a narrow survival path that he alone could see.

The Emperor and the Powers of Chaos

As the human race prospered the warp became increasingly disturbed so that its flow could no longer sustain the planet as it once had. Despite the New Man's best efforts to promote peace and harmony, the human character could not suppress its instinctive values of ambition, defiance, and self-satisfaction.

The Chaos Powers sensed the presence of the New Man and his efforts to curb their own power and growth. Even before they became fully conscious the Chaos Powers recognised the Emperor as their greatest enemy. Khorne was the first to wake fully, and an era of wars and conflict raged across the globe. Tzeentch was the next, and nations and politics grew to adulthood with all their implicit intrigues and double-dealings. Nurgle was the third to awake and plagues swept across continents claiming many souls for the Lord of Decay. By the end of the Middle Ages all three of these Chaos Powers had awoken to full consciousness. The fourth Power, Slaanesh, still slumbered and his rise coincided with the Fall of the Eldar.

The New Man knew that while humanity was tied to its own solar system it would be doomed. Throughout the second, third, and fourth millennia, the New Man was instrumental in the development of space technology. Soon there were human colonies throughout the galaxy.

Now the New Man cast off his raiment to become the Saviour of Man, the Emperor. Over a hundred years before the waking of Slaanesh, the Emperor sought to establish his rule over Earth and began to mould its people into a loyal army. He started to plan the re-conquest of the galaxy in anticipation of the dispersal of the warp storms around the planet.

The Primarchs

The Emperor never made the mistake of underestimating the threat of Chaos, and in order to meet that threat he put the best scientific brains on Earth to work. Weapons and spacecraft poured out of the Martian factories to bolster beleaguered forces throughout the galaxy.

The Emperor's most long-sighted plan to counter the Chaos Powers was the creation of the Primarchs: genetically engineered super-humans with god-like powers. The Emperor's intention was to create a whole race of super-humans in the hope that they would be immune to the temptations of Chaos.

The Primarchs were to be shining examples of humans free from the taint of corruption. The energy of the uncorrupted warp would flow through them as it flowed through the Emperor himself, invigorating them and conferring special powers such as were possessed by the shamans of old.

However, the Chaos Powers knew of the Primarchs, despite the Emperor's best attempts to hide them, and in a bold move they spirited them away while they still grew in their amniotic tanks. Even for the Chaos Powers this was a massive expenditure of energy. The Primarchs were sucked through the warp and scattered on separate human worlds. At this moment in time the Chaos Powers did not have the energy to destroy the Primarchs once and for all.

The Space Marines

The Emperor had lost the Primarchs and he could no re-create them, and even if he could, there was not the time. The birth pangs of Slaanesh grew louder and louder as the time of his waking grew near. The Emperor thought of another plan. Using genetic material which had been imprinted from the Primarchs into laboratory golems, some of their qualities could be reproduced as discrete biological organs. By implanting these organs into a young growing body a person with some of the qualities of the Primarchs could be created. In this way the first Space Marines Chapters were founded. Each Chapter utilised genetic material derived from one of the Primarchs.

The Great Crusade

By the time that the warp storms were ended, the Space Marines and other Imperial forces were ready to re-conquer the galaxy. The forces of Chaos were already strong, and many human worlds had been taken over by Chaos Cultists or other aliens. It was a long hard struggle, but with every victory the young Imperium grew stronger as new warriors joined the Great Crusade.

The initial conquests focused upon where the Primarchs were hidden. Using his psychic powers the Emperor gradually located them and re-united them with the Space Marine Chapters. The Primarchs seemed none the worse for their brush with Chaos, having grown up to be great leaders and warriors among the local human populations. With the Primarchs the Great Crusade swept across the galaxy and humanity began to rebuild its ancient heritage. Chaos retreated to its own realms into the Eye of Terror.

The Horus Heresy

We shan't go into detail about the terrible war that almost spelt doom for humanity. It does, however, spell another chapter in the history of the Emperor. In single combat against his former friend the Warmaster Horus, the Emperor was almost slain. It was Horus who was ultimately slain in this duel and the Emperor has never recovered from that particular confrontation and never will.

The Golden Throne

The fight with Horus was waged both in the material universe and in the warp, their bodies and their spirits battling for survival. The Emperor's body was all but destroyed, and his psychic powers were also dealt a severe blow. The forces of Chaos melted away. Some of those not too long in the service of Chaos were suddenly free from its illusions and quickly switched sides, fighting with all the more vigour in their attempts to make amends for their treachery. The Emperor's body was hastily returned to Earth and placed in a life preserving bubble.

The life support unit known as the Golden Throne was quickly built to encase the Emperor. His powers survived, but his body was shattered. At first he was able to communicate semi-coherently for brief periods, later he lapsed into complete silence. That silence has remained undisturbed now for almost ten thousand years.

Released from his body, the Emperor's psychic power, his soul, was cast adrift upon the tides of the warp, to be carried on the random undercurrents and eddies of the Sea of Souls until such time as it was ready to be reborn. Although the Powers of Chaos hunted tirelessly through the warp for the Emperor's soul they could not find it. The warp is huge, and its energies dispersed and flowing. Like the shamans of old, the Emperor was at one with the whole warp, so his soul melted easily into it and so remained hidden from the Chaos Powers.

Although the Emperor was dead by an ordinary understanding of the word, while some of his cells still lived they provided a link through which his spirit could communicate with the material universe. While his body was relatively fresh it could be animated, and was even to speak a little. Thanks to this the Emperor was able to supervise the construction of a special psychic life support machine called the Golden Throne.

The Star Child

As the spirit of the Emperor drifted through the warp it gradually dissolved into the flow of energy, returning to the cosmic force of the nature of the warp in its uncorrupted form. Only a tiny core of the Emperor's humanity remained whole, like a small child bobbing upon the tide of a colossal storm in a tiny reed boat.

Thus the soul of the Emperor was cast adrift into the warp. While the Emperor's soul survived there was still hope for mankind. For just as the New Man had been born from the collective souls of the shamans of old, so the Emperor's soul might be reborn one day. But that day would lie far in the future, when the cries for a new saviour would strengthen the core of the Emperor's soul and rekindle it into new life.

Meanwhile the soul of the Emperor was merely a potential, a child awaiting birth, the Star Child. The humans there were left in charge of the Imperium had no real understanding of what had happened to the Emperor. The concept that he could be born again never occurred to them. To the rulers of the Imperium, the Emperor continues to live, though his body was broken, by means of his indisputable powers.

Only a select few individuals learned the secret over the following millennia, and they became the highly secret brotherhood known as the Illuminati. The Illuminati await the birth of the Star Child and the second coming of the New Man. They know that their knowledge makes them dangerous heretics in the eyes of the Imperium, and consequently maintain strict secrecy over their activities. They remain a secret force in human space, working their way behind the machinery of government and commerce, preparing the way for the rebirth of the New Man.

Edited by Tadaka, 25 December 2008 - 04:11.

dragonclan21.jpg
You all know your destiny, deny it at your own peril.
Togashi Yokuni

 


#2 Shiro_Tamori

Shiro_Tamori

    Ryu

  • Members
  • 207 posts
  • LocationDeni-Kai Dojo, Greekugan

Posted 25 December 2008 - 01:10

Ακολουθεί ένα κείμενο για την προδοσία του Horus, του ισχυρότερου από τους Primarchs, τον εμφύλιο πόλεμο που ξέσπασε μέσα στην Αυτοκρατορία και την δημιουργία των Chaos Space marines.



THE HORUS HERESY

The Horus Heresy is now commonly assumed to be a conventional revolt, and only the Emperor, and the Cyber-libraries of the Ordo Malleus, have an accurate recollection of the Heresy.

Of Warmaster Horus

General Horus was regarded as the finest military commander that the Imperium had produced. His abilities were faultless, and eventually the Emperor granted him the title of Imperial Warmaster. This was a high honour, even in the early years of the Imperium, when brave deeds were commonplace.

Before Horus could travel to Terra to receive his reward he fell ill on the feral world of Davin. This was his undoing. During his convalescence on Davin he was inducted into a secret warrior's lodge, which proved to be little more than a coven. A change of character became evident in the Warmaster - he had been possessed by a Daemon. Horus' membership of the secret lodge was not unusual; Imperial soldiers were often encouraged to join warrior societies of this type. Recruiting was felt to be easier on worlds where 'warriors from the stars' had become 'brothers'.

Warmaster Horus was recalled to duty in preparation for a new Imperial Crusade. It is clear that the Warmaster introduced a system of 'warrior lodges' into the five Legions Astartes Chapters under his direct command. The Chapters were entirely corrupted at the lodges revealed their true nature and showed themselves to be nothing less than Chaos covens. The infection rapidly spread to the Orders of the Adeptus Mechanicus attached to Horus' command. From there the rot spread further into the Imperial forces. More than half of the Adeptus Mechanicus, including many units of the Collegia Titanica and the Legio Cybernetica wholeheartedly supported Horus and his vision of a new Imperium of Chaos. This wholesale treachery went undetected by the Inquisition.

Before Horus could move, the Imperial Commander of Istvaan III declared the entire Istvaan system to be an independent principality. The Emperor and Administratum, ignorant of the change in Horus, his subordinate Chapters and the parts of the Adeptus Mechanicus, ordered the Warmaster to secure the system. Horus chose a bioweapon bombardment on Istvaan III, and the planet became a tomb in seconds. The psychic death scream of the 12 billion who died during the Scouring of Istvaan is reputed to have been louder than the Astronomican.

During the bombardment, loyal Adeptus Astartes officers and troops managed to seize control of the frigate Eisenstein. They had discovered the rot that had been spread through the Warmaster's Chapters and the Adeptus Mechanicus. As Horus completed his withdrawal to Istvaan V the loyalists fled into warp space, carrying a warning to the rest of the Imperium. The seizure of the Eisenstein is regarded as the start of the First Inter-Legionary War.

Treachery in the Mechanicus

The Emperor now became aware of the danger, and the Inquisition began a purge of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Fighting broke out immediately as the Mechanicus split into loyalists and rebels. The Legio Cybernetica and Collegia Titanica bases on Mars were immediately besieged by loyalist troops. Out of all the Titan Legions of the Divisio Militaris only those on Terra remained loyal. The rest declared for Horus.

With the wholesale treachery of the Division Militaris, the loyalist faction within the Collegia Titanica was forced to husband its battlefield resources. Fortunately, many of the weapon shops and supply depots of the Collegia had remained loyal. The priesthood were in control of the Collegia depots, and their presence ensured that these vital resources remained in the hands of the Imperium. The rebels were presented with an immediate supply problem; damaged and destroyed Titans could not be repaired with the limited spares and stockpiles held by individual Orders.

Savage battle broke out between loyalist and rebel Titan Orders. Faced with extinction through lack of spares if they delayed or acted defensively, the rebels attacked. The Collegia histories list many construction adepts who performed the dedication rites on a new Titan, and then mounted their charge and took it straight into battle. In some cases the liberations were still wet when it reached combat. Only able to match such fanaticism with their sheer weight of numbers, the rebels were often forced into a position of stalemate. However, despite the valiant defence of these loyal remnants of the Collegia Titanica, enough supplies were captured to allow the rebels to make good use of their Titans during the final assault on Earth.

Imperium at War

Across the Imperium rebel units attacked loyalists and vice versa. Old feuds were revived in many systems, giving additional excuses for battle. The rule of the Imperium dissolved into planetary battles. Many units of the Imperial Guard declared for the Warmaster. The Imperial Fleet dithered and managed only to drive rebel ships from the Imperial home system. In the process they took heavy casualties and retired to their Luna bases.

The Emperor took stock of the situation, and ordered seven entire Marine Chapters, a third of the Legions Astartes, to destroy Horus and his rebels. Only with the death of Horus, the figurehead and inspiration of rebellion, would the revolt come to an end. The crusade against Horus, although of the utmost urgency, took more than 180 days to plan and launch. Horus used the time well, establishing his claim as a 'New Emperor' with many of the rebels, and spreading the worship of Chaos further afield.

The Warmaster had established a temporary headquarters on Istvaan V. The loyalist Chapters struck in quick succession, and the battles of the Pacification of Istvaan were bloody in the extreme. The first assaults by loyalist Chapters were mauled during their landings, and then destroyed in detail. Three complete Chapters took part in the initial landings on Istvaan; only five marines, bearing the gene-seed of their departed brothers, eventually managed to escape to carry the news of the disaster to the Emperor. Their own 'loyalist' follow-up waves, rather than attacking the rebels, fell upon their erstwhile allies. Horus had, apparently, managed to corrupt four of the seven Chapters sent against him.

Battlefield Earth

With nine rebel Chapters and the bulk of the Adeptus Mechanicus behind him, and three loyal Chapters destroyed, Horus assaulted Earth. Throughout the Imperium rebel and loyalist units were fighting each other to a virtual standstill, although the tide of the battle was turning ever so slowly, in the Emperor's favour. Possessed as he was, the Warmaster had lost none of his strategic bluntness: crush the heart, and the Imperium could be remoulded in his own warped image.

The Imperial Fleet was bypassed, and its Luna bases destroyed. Within 30 standard days the Warmaster had reduced the system defences, and thrown a ring of troops about the Imperial Palace. The forces under Horus' command had ceased to be loyal Imperial Marines. They had become the Traitor Legions.

The Adeptus Custodes, the Imperial Fist and Whitescar Chapters, and loyalists of the Collegia Titanica were all that remained on Earth. Even their suicidal bravery and the leadership of the Emperor were not enough to prevent the battle turning into a siege. The rebel Traitor Legions were aided by the machines of the Adeptus Mechanicus and, outnumbered by these, even the bravest loyalists could do little. By the 55th day the Traitor Legions and the rebel Adeptus Mechanicus Legions had reached the walls of the Inner Palace.

The Death of Horus

The situation grew more desperate by the hour and, when the Outer Palace was abandoned to the Traitor Legions and their allies, the Emperor acted. He disconnected himself from the Astronomican, a signal to the remainder of the Imperial Fleet that the end, one way or another, was approaching. The Emperor and an elite company of Custodes Adeptus soldiery and Imperial Fist Marines were then teleported into Horus' command bunker. In the fierce fighting that followed Horus was killed (although his body was never found) and the Emperor seriously wounded.

With the death of the Warmaster the rebels paused in their assaults, then fell back to their transports and fled into space. The Imperial Fleet, which had been powerless to intervene while the rebels were within the Palace, gave chase. The Emperor returned to the Palace, where he was placed within a life-bubble; his wounds would have been fatal for an ordinary man. Under his watchful eyes the construction of the Golden Throne, which sustains him to this day, began.

The Traitors Expelled

His future assured, the Emperor pronounced judgement on Horus and his Legions. They had broken faith with the Emperor and trafficked with Daemons. They were declared to be the Traitor Legions, rebels against the Emperor and Mankind. The Fleet was ordered to drive them into the Eye of Terror, a system of hell-worlds wrapped in a dust nebula and awash with warp storms. Here the Traitor Legions would be confined for all eternity; all records and memories of the lapsed Marine Chapters would be expunged from Imperial Archives. Their tied servants and support troops were to be removed from the Istvaan and Davin systems, and sent into the Eye aboard almost derelict hulks. It would be as if the Traitor Legions had never existed. In this decision the Emperor tempered his vengeance with reality - the Imperium had been so weakened by the struggle that no other punishment was possible.

As news of the Warmaster's defeat spread through the Imperium, widespread fighting was renewed. The loyalists were revitalised by the news, and fell on the rebels. Many Guard and Fleet detachments had withheld their support from both sides. Such indecision was punished by the rebels and loyalists alike. The fighting continued another seven years before the last rebel formations were destroyed or exiled.

Those who could flee did so, heading for the Eye of Terror. Many had declared for the Warmaster without understanding that daemonworship had been the rebellion's cause. They rapidly fell victim to the cultists of the original Traitor Legions, who, it is said, grew bored of a diet of human flesh.

The destroyed Chapters were slowly re-established using what gene-seed had been saved. Many systems, including Davin and Istvaan, were cleansed and placed under the protection of the Inquisition. The unit designations of the Traitor Legions were placed on the inactive list and assigned to new Marine Chapters raised during later Foundlings.

The Emperor's body had breathed its last, and he entered the Golden Throne. The Traitor Legions and their dead Warmaster vanished into the Eye of Terror. The First Inter-Legionary War - the Horus Heresy - lasted less than a decade, but it nearly destroyed the Imperium.

dragonclan21.jpg
You all know your destiny, deny it at your own peril.
Togashi Yokuni

 


#3 Jiraiya

Jiraiya

    ビッグブレストジャンキー

  • Members
  • 2,569 posts

Posted 25 December 2008 - 01:12

Death to the False Emperor:dwarf:

Posted Image


#4 Shiro_Tamori

Shiro_Tamori

    Ryu

  • Members
  • 207 posts
  • LocationDeni-Kai Dojo, Greekugan

Posted 25 December 2008 - 01:12

The Assault on Earth

On the thirteenth of Secundus, 30,014, the bombardment began. From orbit the Warmaster/s ships laid down an unrelenting barrage of missiles and deadly energy beams. The aim was to cripple the defences around the Emperor/s Palace and make possible a massive invasion of Earth. The lunar bases had already fallen and the defending fleets had been scattered. On Mars, as across the entire vast Imperium, bitter civil war raged.


On countles worlds blood-mad warriors clashed. Some had pledged loyalty to the Emperor. Others had sworn fealty to Warmaster Horus, and, through him, to the dark powers of Chaos. The Emeror/s realm was in turmoil and some of the greatest battles in human history were being fought. On the hive-world of Thranx over a million warriors died in a single day on the killing fields of Perdagor. On the blazing deserts of Tallarn, at the Ka/an Sailent fifty thousand tanks clashed in the greatest armoured action of all time. During the spacedrop on Vanaheim three hive-cities were depopulated by rebel forces as a warning against resistance and still the defenders fought to the last man.


Like a cancer the Hersy infected the entire structure of the Imperium. Everywhere brave men gave up their lives to try and excise that cancer.


It was on Earth, at the very heart of humanity/s realm, that the fate of the galaxy was to be decided. In those last days, the sky was black with dustclouds and the earth was split by gigantic fissures. Tectonic plates shifted under the stress of the bombardment. Mountain chains shivered and seas evaporated and became salty deserts. Rains of blood and ash dripped from the dark sky. Everywhere oracles muttered evil portents and men went mad with fear.


Hideously twisted ships full of the lost and the damned hung in orbit over the ravaged world. Shielded from the devastation by the cunningly wrought defences of the Adeptus Mechanicus a pitiful few stood ready to repel the invaders.


The embattled remnants of the Emperor/s army were desperately trying to hold out until reinforcements arrived. The Emperor himself oversaw the defence of his fortress-palace, personally commanding the Adeptus Custodes, his elite guard. He was accompanied by Sanguinius, white-pinioned Primarch of the Blood Angels and his Chapter of Space Marines. In the palace grounds stood the stalwart Adeptus Arbites.


The palace was not the only bastion of resistance. There were others; each an awesome fortified city filled with daunless soldiers. Beneath their Fortress-Monastery, grim-visaged Rogal Dorn led the stern Imperial Fists in final prayers. Within the armoured factory complexes of the Adeptus Mechanicus, techpriests put aside their tools and girded on the fearsome weapons of their order. In the rubble of burned-out habareas Primarch Jhagatai Khan mustered the White Scars, the Chapter of Space Marines he had personally instructed in the art of lightning warfare. Three full Titan legions stood ready to defend their Emperor.


As the earth shuddered under the bombardment, tank divisions roared across the tortured landscape to take up their position against the coming invasion. Brave men checked their weapons and offered up last prayers. Defence lasers swivelled to face the turbulent threatening sky. Suddenly, the night was streaked by the plasma contrails of drop-pods. Within the Emperor/s halls even the Space Marines shuddered damned brethren. The terrifying prospect of facing those corrupt Primarchs who had sold their souls to Chaos filed every man/s mind with indescribable horror and dread.


* * *


The pods touched ground and from them erupted the mightiest champions of Chaos, the renegade Space Marines of the lost Chapters. These were no longer the fine human warriors of legend but twisted creatures, bodies warped by the energies of Chaos, minds twisted by their devotion to the dark powers. If what had happened to the Space Marines was bad then what had happened to their Primarchs was worse. They had been created higher in the Emperor/s esteem and had fallen further. None of their former comrades would have recognised them - they had been transformed into creatures both daemonic and exultant.


Mighty Angron bellowed orders to his blood-drinking followers, the World Eaters. Brandishing his great runesword he led them against the defenders of Eternity Wall Space Port. Around his red-armoured followers bolter shots whined. Unflinchingly they advanced, determined to spill blood for the Blood God.


At Mortarion/s soft-spoken command the Death Guard emerged silently from the festering cocoons of their drop-pods and advanced on their terror-stricken foes. The dread runes on Mortarion/s scythe glittered eerily in the night as he gestured for them to advance.


Magnus the Red glared triumphantly about him with his one watchful eye before ordering the mage-warriors of the Thousand Sons to cast their spells of doom. A hail of deadly bolter shells cut down dozens of the Emperor/s Children. Undeterred, the wounded howled with pleasure at the experience and chanted the praises of their Primarch Fulgrim. The Renegade Space Marines surged forward to carve a path through their foes.


Perhaps some defenders went mad with fear. Perhaps the corruption of Chaos ran deeper than anyone suspected. Perhaps some were foolish enough to think that they could negotiate with the ultimate enemy. Whatever the reason one last vile treachery was to take place. Many units of the Imperial army that had pledged loyalty to the Emperor turned blasphemer even as the Traitor Space Marines made their drop. It was almost as if it were a pre-arranged signal. In one of the basest acts of betrayal in humanity/s history they turned their weapons on their brother warriors and cut them down like dogs. Thus did the Lions Gate Space Port fall to the rebels. As the heretics chanted and howled their mad prayers, the air shimmered and slavering daemons emerged from the warp to spread terror and dismay.


Then indeed did it seem to the defenders that they were living in the last days of mankind. Huge bat-winged Bloodthirsters swept triumphantly across the weeping skies. Clawed Keepers of Secrets danced lasciviously on piles of corpses. Great Unclean Ones chuckled as they lumbered through the ruined streets spreading trails of filth and slime and disease. Enigmatic Lords of Change perched atop the towers and statues and supervised the coming of Chaos to the heart of the world.


Mighty ships began the descent from orbit, hoping to overwhelm the defenders by sheer weight of numbers. Unlike the drop-pods these presented fine targets for the weapons of the defenders. And thus did the battle for Earth begin in earnest.


Defence lasers blasted many renegade ships from the sky, sending thousands of tons of fused metal death raining down onto the ground below. One giant craft span out of control and crashed into a hab-unit, killing a hundred thousand people. Another was welded to the ground, disgorging its passengers into a lake of bubbling tar and plas-crete. The vessel of the Warped Dogs was vapourised and that Titan Legion/s name passed into history.


As quickly as they disembarked the Traitors surged forth from the space ports to besiege the bastions of the defenders. Their first objective was to silence the defence lasers inflicting such casualties on their comrades. The rebels were met by a wave of Imperial defenders, desperate men who knew that they were giving their lives for their home and their Emperor.


In the tightly packed streets around the space ports the fighting was close and deadly. Bolters chattered and missile launchers delivered cargoes of death from building to nearby building. Traitor tanks rumbled through the avenues, turrets swivelling to bring weapons to bear on the hastily improvised barricades of their former comrades. Soon the defenders of Eternity Wall Space Port had been swept aside by the merciless assault and the hordes of the Warmaster were in total possession of the spacefield. More and more intricately wrought dropships descended from orbit. They towered over the landing ground like nightmare skyscrapers. The dark runes on their sides glowed evilly in the gloom. Hundred-meter high doors opened in their kilometre long sides. From their red depths Titan ten times the height of a man emerged. They were warped giants; the armour of their carapace fused and moulded inte new shapes by the power of Chaos. Within them were men melded to their machines. Some of the hideous Titans had strange potent weapons, others were a bizarre hybrid of the organic and the machine. Metal tentacles lashed, spiked tails whipped back and forth. Engines roared like the voices of angry beasts. Banners fluttering, the Titans of Storm Lords and the Flaming Skulls legions marched forth. At Lions Gate Space Port the traitors welcomed the towering black war engines of the Khornate host. Minotaurs and trolls and cultists seethed like angry ants around their bases.


Reinforced by this fresh wave of troops the hordes of Horus swept on, driving through the exhausted and demoralised Imperial troops to the very walls of the Emperor/s palace. Khornate warriors mounted on bestial daemonic Juggers raced towards the marble and steel outer ring. Hordes of horn-headed Tzeentchian disc riders soared on the wind, bolts of mystic power erupting from their clenched fists to rake the defenders. Slaaneshi beast riders swept aside the Imperial Guard infantry and reached the Saturnine Gate.


Round the walls bitter fighting ensued as the Imperials sallied forth, trying to drive the attackers back before the main body of the assaulting troops arrived. Men died in their thousands. From pillbox emplacements in the palace walls Imperial gun crews rained death down on the relentless attackers. Again and again the streets outside the palace were swept clear of heretics. Again and again new foes stepped forward to take their place.


Now indeed it seemed the tide of battle had turned against the Emperor. The space ports were firmly in the grasp of the minions of the Warmaster. Hundreds of thousands of troops poured down from orbit. Goat headed beastmen, gibbering mutants and hideous amorphous Chaos Spawn surged out of the drop ships. Under the banner of the great eye, the sign of Horus, the lackeys of the four Great Powers of Chaos marched united. Mounted on Rhinos, lurking within mighty Behemoths and clinging to the sides of gigantic war engines they made their way en masse to the Emperor/s palace.


Looking down on the seething sea of foulness the defender's hearts went cold. Mingling with the daemons and the mad-eyed cultists, the trolls and the beastmen they could see heretical Space Marines and traitor Guardsmen. These were people they might have once fought alongside, who had once been as loyal to the Emperor as themselves. They looked upon a dark mirror of their souls. Down there they could see martial honour become berserk madness, human cleverness become sly treachery, hope become foulness and love become abominable lust. The brave men on the walls knew that there was no way out. Here they must stand and fight and die. There would be no mercy from those below. This was a war where there could be no honourable peace. It was destroy or be destroyed.


For a moment all was silence, then Angron strode forth. In his brazen voice he demanded that the loyalists surrender. He told them that their cause was hopeless, that they faced a foe who could not be defeated. They were cut off, outnumbered, and defending a ruler too weak to be worthy of their loyalty. In that moment the men on the walls felt their resolve weaken. Looking at the transformed face of the Primarch wo had been one of the Emperor/s finest warriors, they saw an invincible, relentless foe backed by a numberless horde and all the daemonic might of Chaos.


There was a clamour on the walls as Sanguinius and the Blood Angels arrived. Standing on the wall, the angel-winged man glared on Angron with angry contempt. For long moments their gazes locked. Each Primarch seemed to be measuring the other, searching for chinks in the armour, for any sign of weakness and lack of resolve. Who knows what they saw there? Perhaps they communicated telepathically, brother Primarch to brother Primarch. The truth will never be known. Eventually Angron turned and walked back to his lines. He told his troops that there would be no surrender; they should kill everyone they found within the palace. No stone should be left upon stone.


With a roar the horde advanced towards the walls. Great Lords of Battle lurched forward on iron wheels, crushing anything in their way, unloading racks of missiles and turning the area on the top of the walls into blazing storms of death. Doom burners sent tongues of superheated metal licking out at the emplacements. Molten brass filtered through the windows and scalded those inside. Multi-tracked Cauldrons of Blood squirted jets of obscene daemonic ichor onto the defenders. Enormous fleshhounds of Khorne loped forward in their wake. Titans armed with specially constructed siege weapons lumbered inte position. Battle cruisers dropped megatons of explosive death onto the defenders.


Every loyal warrior knew that he was already dead; that there was no way he could survive the coming of the daemonic army. The soldiers fought with the desperate feorcity of hopeless men, firing until their weapons were empty, snatching up the bolters of the fallen, and facing monsters with the butts of their guns when all ammunition was exhausted. Three times the horde managed to scale the walls, and three times it was driven off by the valiant efforts of Sanguinius and the Blood Angels. Wearily the Primarch marshalled the defenders, rallying the broken, speaking words of comfort to the mortally wounded, fighting with cold, implacable fury when he was called upon to do so. Slowly though, despite his efforts, the Chaos forces managed to erode the defence. They seemed numberless as the grains of sand on a sea shore and Horus spent their lives carelessly.


Outside the walls Imperial forces frantically raced from their bastions to try and relieve the palace. Titan legions boldly cut their way towards the centre of the rebel army. The Whitescars harried its flanks. No attempt to break the rebel line succeeded. Breaking through that blood-mad horde was a near impossible task. All four of the daemonic Primarchs inspired their followers to feats of fiendish bravery. For every Chaos warrior who died it seemed two more stood ready to take his place.


In orbit the Warmaster watched approvingly. If the palace fell and the Emperor died loyalist legions across the galaxy would lose heart and the war would be over. Without the psychic shield of the Emperor/s power, humanity would swiftly fall prey to Chaos. Horus would stand triumphant amid the rubble of humanity/s greatest empire. He would become a new and angry god. If he did not win soon reinforcements would filter in from the corners of the Imperium, and his attack would falter. For the Warmaster this was the desperate ultimate gamble. Everything was staked on this attack. It had to succeed, and at that moment it looked as if it might.


Day by day the siege wore on, casualties rose from the thousands to tens of thousands to hundreds of thousands. Bodies had to be bulldozed from the accessways to the Saturnine Gate by war machines. Chaos Titans blazed at the walls, specially constructed missiles ripping great chunks from the masonry. The Titans of the Fire Wasps answered their fire with volcano cannons. The smell of burning flesh filled the air as the corpses of the dead were incinerated in funeral pyres a hundred foot high. Obscene ash parched the throats of the defenders. The World Eaters built a pyramid of scorched skulls sixty foot high in

Temple Square
. By night the chants of degenerate cultists echoed through the streets and daemons flitted among the ruins of Eart.

Slowly, foot by torturous foot, the defenders were forced back. The great walls of the palace were riddled with hundreds of kilometres of bulkheads and corridor. Within this maze bitter hand to hand fighting ensued till entire sections of passage were filled with bloated corpses. Feeling progress was too slow, Horus ordered the Titans of the Death/s Head Legion to demolish entire sections of the wall. Despite taking tremendous casualties the great Warlord Titans broke through, and the forces of the Warmaster flooded inte the palace grounds.


While all this was taking place Jhagati Khan had implemented a change of plan. Rather than throwing away his forces against the near invincible bulk of the main Chaos army he launched a lightning raid against Lions Gate Space Port. This night attack was spearheaded by the shaven-headed warriors of the Whitescars, wo led the remnants of the 1st Tank Division and elements of the surviving Gurad armies against te surprised heretics. Khan threw a defensive perimeter around the space port and held it against all counter-attacks. The flow of men and materials towards the palace was halved at a stroke.


This success gave heart to the defenders. They swiftly attempted to seize Eternity Wall Space Port but here the forces of the Warmaster were better prepared. The attackers were ambushed and driven back by traitors. Horus knew it was imperative to keep his beachhead secure. The final push on the inner palace had begun.


The battle raged across the grounds of the Inner Gardens. What had once been a vast parkland was swiftly turned into a killing ground. Men used statues for cover and monuments for bunkers. Blood swirled in the waters of the ornamental lakes. Groves of ancient redwoods burned. The smell of the burning mingled with the acrid odours of weapons and engines and death. Red-eyed, snatching sleep when they could, both sides fought a total war. Tranches were hurriedly excavated in the meadows. Snipers killed men as they tried to sip brackish water from the ruined fountains.


Both sides fought with unimaginable naked ferocity. Both sides sensed the end was near.


Eventually Sanguinius was forced to retreat to within the palace itself, personally holding the Ultimate Gate against the oncoming horde while the last of his wounded men was carried through. Just as the giant ceramite gate was about to close a Bloodthirster of Khorne leapt upon him. The daemon/s huge talons closed around his throat. Sanguinius took to the air. Angel and daemon wrestled over the warring armies. Both sides halted for a moment to watch the titanic struggle. It was a conflict such as has been rarely seen; two beings of awesome power wrestled.


Sanguinius was weary and near the end of his strength and the daemon gouged great wounds in his flesh. The heretical throng roared its approval as the Primarch was cast to the ground, the impact splintering the granite. For a moment the Primarch lay still and a groan rose from the Blood Angels, the daemon stood over him and howled in exhultation. Then slowly and painfully the Blood Angel rose and seized the creature, raised it high and broke its back across his knee. Then with a halo of power playing round his head he tossed its broken carcass back amid its followers. They beat their chests and rent their hair and wailed in dismay as the Ultimate Gate shut.


The great Sky Fortress bore Rogal Dorn and the remnants of the Imperial Fists to the inner palace. The loyal old general was determined to stand and die with his Emperor in the final hour. The Sky Fortress raced away from the palace in a desperate attempt to reach Jhagatai Khan and return him to the palace. It was destroyed by a blaze of fire fron the Death/s Heads Titan Legions. Even in death its commander wrought havoc on the enemy, bringing the crippled vehicle down into the entre of the Chaos Horde. It seemed as if a new sun was born on Earth as the plasma reactor exploded, blasting out a crater three kilometres across. Those within the palace knew they were cut off; now they were truly alone. Only a miracle could save them.


Now the final siege began. Through great breaches in the outer walls more and more armaments and reinforcements were brought to bear. The Warmaster himself prepared to teleport down to the surface and supervise the destruction of his former lord. Then a daemon from the Warp whispered to him the words that he had dreaded.


A loyalist fleet under Leman Russ and Lion/el Johnsom bearing a fresh army of Space Wolves and Dark Angels was only hours away. It would take days to break humanity/s last citadel, even with Horus leading his troops. It seemed that time had run out for the Warmaster, that his gamble had failed.


Horus was first among the fallen, with the power of a god and the cunning of a daemon. He resolved to try one final desperate gambit. he could still kill the Emperor. He ordered all comm-net communications blocked so that the defenders would get no word from their rescuers and then he used his psychic powers to the full to prevent the Emperor becoming aware of this. Finally he dropped the shields of his command ship. It was an invitation and a personal challenge that he knew the Emperor could not resist. He was being offered a chance finally to smite the foe who had harried him for so long.


The Emperor rose to the challenge, and he and his surviving Primarchs teleported aboard the Warmaster/s battle barge. Horus used his powers to separate the Emperor from his loyal followers. The loyalists were transported to different spots within his hideously altered ship. Sanguinius he had brought directly to his throne room. In his evil cunning the Warmaster offered the Blood Angel a chance to switch sides, reasoning that the winged Primarch/s followers would be useful when the Space Wolves and the Dark Angels arrived.


Sanguinius refused. Horus grew wrathful and attacked him. At the peak of his powers the Blood Angel would have been no match for the Warmaster and now, sorely wounded and weary he had no chance at all. Horus strangled him with his bare hands before the throne the Powers of Chaos had gifted him with.


The Emperor found Horus shortly after this and what happened next is the subject of legend. The two mightiest beings in the history of mankind clashed. They met blade to blade, power to power, mind to mind and tested sinew and psychic power to the ultimate.


Aboard the Warmasters Ship

Even through the shields the impact makes the Imperial Palace shake. With a Screech of tortured stone an angel topples from its alcove high on the throne room wall and crashes to the marble floor a kilometre below. It shatters into a million pieces. Splinters of stone flash across the hall like shrapnel.


From his throne the Emperor watches his warriors mill around in confusion. This hall holds ten thousand men, seasoned veterans, and all are now panicking. He knows they are more frightened by his silence than by the enemy. They look to him for leadership and he can give them none.


For the first time in his millennia-long life the Emperor knows despair. The magnitude of his defeat stuns him. The lunar bases have fallen. Most of the Earth is under the Warmaster's heel. Rebel Titans surround the palace and are held at bay only by the desperate efforts of a few loyalists. It is only a matter of time before the palace's defences fail and the last bastions of resistance fall.


"Sire, what are your orders?" asks Rogal Dorn, massive dark-haired Primarch of the Imperial Fists. His golden armour has lost its lustre, is dented in a dozen places by bolter shells. The Emperor doesn't answer. He is lost within himself seeking answers to his own questions.


He has come at last to the dark place, the time of testing, the era hidden from his precognitive vision and beyond which he cannot see. The moment he has always dreaded has arrived. Is my time over, he wonders? Is this where it all ends? Is this why I have reached the limits of my prophetic powers. Is this where I die?


He feels bewildered. Even now, with the Traitor Warmaster's forces battering at the gate, he finds it difficult to believe that he has been betrayed.


Horus was more than a trusted comrade, more like a favoured son. Of all the Primarchs the Emperor relied on him most. Not for a second had the Emperor doubted him, not even when word had come from the Savage Worlds that the Warmaster was gathering forces. He had deluded himself that Horus must have good reason to do so without consulting him. I should have been warned by the failure of my precognition, he thinks.


"Sire, what are your orders?" asks Kane, acting Fabricator-General of the Adeptus Mechanicus. He stares at the Emperor, a trick of the light turning the glass slits of his brass mask into accusing eyes. Once more the Emperor does not reply. Kane's presence reminds him that not even the head of the Adeptus is to be trusted. His superior, the former Fabricator-General, has chosen to side with Horus.


On Mars civil war rages between factions of Tech-Priests. Ancient, forbidden weapons are being deployed. Viral plagues kill millions. Fusion bombs scar the earth.


So much will be lost. He thinks of the slow piecing together of the old science. The Librarium Technologicus is in flame now, ancient core data systems in meltdown. The Great Crusade, as much a quest for knowledge as a war to reclaim the human worlds, is ended. The Warmaster's treachery has seen to that.


"Sire, what are your orders?" Asks Sanguinius, angel winged Primarch of the Blood Angels. He gazes at the Emperor with blazing eyes, his face a mask of terrible beauty.


The Emperor knows they rely on him for guidance. They still believe in him. They think he can lead them from this trap. They are wrong.


Horus is the greatest general the galaxy has ever known. Who should know better than his creator? He is schooled by a century of warfare. There will be no way out, no loopholes, no flaws in the plan. The Warmaster would have to be mad to leave one.


The Emperor looks down on the faces of his followers, sees the trust written there, feels the weight of responsibility it brings. He knows that for their sake he must try, even if it is hopeless.


He casts forth his clairvoyant sight, lets his mind drift beyond the ruined gardens of the palace, over fields where colossal Titans battle by the twisted light of the sculpted moon. He sees the whole war spread out beneath him, his pitifully outnumbered legions being mowed down by the traitor hordes. He reaches up to the sky, where he senses the fleet of battlebarges that rain orbital doom upon the tortured Earth. Amid those thousand glittering points he finds the Warmaster.


Hope flickers within him. The shields of Horus's ship are down. Briefly he wonders why. Is the traitor's confidence so overwhelming? Does he wish to witness the battle himself. Or is it a trap? The Emperor touches the ship and recoils from what he senses within. How could Horus have done this, make a pact with the ultimate abomination?


The Emperor comes to a decision. Trap or not, this is the only opportunity he will get. He has no option but to sieze it; the position is so desperate. Even as his spirit returns to his body, the ominous thought strikes him that the Warmaster must know this.


"What are your orders, Sire?" Sanguinius asks again. The Emperors eyes snap open. His voice is full of authority.


"Prepare to teleport. We will take the battle to the enemy."


The men smile confidently. They now have a purpose. While he reels off the teleport co-ordinates they move, without question, to obey.


A flash of light, a feeling of coldness. They have teleported into the Warmaster's ship. The Emperor takes an instant to reorientate himself and realises that something has gone wrong. He stands in a vast, warped chamber with only a few marines in attendance. The Terminators and the Primarchs are not present. How is this possible he wonders. Could Horus have disrupted the teleportation beam? Is he so powerful?


Insane voices gibber madly inside his skull. There are figures trapped in the stone walls of the vast room. Hands reach out for him, grasp at him with rock-like strength. He shrugs them off easily. His comrades are not so lucky. Bolters chatter and flash as the marines attempt to fight off their daemonic assailants.


A man screams as he is drawn into the dark and slimy walls. As he vanishes, ripples spread from his point of disappearance. The Emperor's sword lashes out, severing limbs, freeing trapped marines. He summons his psychic energies. A nimbus flickers around his head as he unleashes his power. A tidal wave of destruction rips through the daemons, leaving his own men unscathed.


He scans about him, seeing the Primarchs but the walls of the Warmaster's Battle Barge are resistant to his mindsight. He gestures for the surviving Marines to follow him.


They wonder through a ship distorted beyond all recognition by the warping power of Chaos. Great sphincter-doors distend from walls of flesh-like stone. Transparent veins bear rivers of blood along conduits in the floor. Carpets of mucous cover a road of tongues.


Winged and distorted things that might once have been human flit through archways of bone and pearch on ledges of rib. The marines gasp in horror. He exerts himself to calm them, psychically soothing their fear of this dreadful place. All the while he scans the area looking for the spoor of Horus. He knows now the nature of the pact the Warmaster has made and the dreadful consequences of his victory.


They pass pits that gape like glistening gullets in the floor and echo the beats of a distant giant heart. They are showered by waterfalls of stinking yellowish liquid that cascades down cliffs of carved cartilage. Sometimes they hear weapons fire but when they arive at the source they find nothing.


Mists of rainbow vapour drift across their field of vision obscuring corridors of carnivorous stone. Clouds of insects swarm over their faceplates and choke the extractors of their airpipes. They switch over to internal oxygen supply.


They are ambushed by scuttling skull-faced things in the armour of marines. They fight hordes of mutated beasts. One by one they die. In the end the Emperor stands alone. Then and only then is he allowed to enter the presence of Horus.


The Warmaster bestrides the body of a broken angel. Behind him the tortured Earth fills the viewport, a bauble for Horus to sieze with one clawed hand. Corpses of massacred marines lie everywhere.


Face glowing with internal bloodlight, Horus speaks. "Poor Sanguinius. I offered him a position of power in the new order. He could have a seat at the right hand of a god. Alas he chose to align himself with the losing side."


The Emperor stands transfixed, trying to force frozen words from his tongue. In the end he can only wisper; "Why?"


Mad laughter rings out. "Why? You ask me why? Have all those millennia tought you nothing? Weak fool, your timidity prevented you from binding the forces of Chaos. You shied away from the ultimate power. I have bound it to my will and will lead humanity into a new age. I, Horus, Master Of Chaos."


The Emperor looks at his former friend and shakes his head. He sees the trap that has ensnared Horus. "No man can master Chaos," he says quietly. "You have deluded yourself. You are the servant not the master."


A look of rage transfigures the Warmaster. He stretches out a hand and a bolt of force leaps forth. The Emperor screams as agony wracks his body. "Feel the true nature of my power then tell me I am deluded," roars Horus, in the voice of an angry god.


Beads of sweat stand out on the Emperor's forehead, he steels himself against the pain. "You are deluded," he says.


Once again Horus gestures and lances of pure poison sear through the Emperor's veins. "I let you come here, old friend, so that you could witness my triumph. Kneel before me and I will spare you. Acknowledge the new master of mankind."


Desperately the Emperor summons his power and lashes out. Lightning flicker between the combatants. The stench of ozone fills the air. The Emperor leaps forward, sword raised. Weapons clash as the battle is joined on every level: physical, spiritual, psychic.


Bolts of force flicker as mortal gods clash, balancing the fate of the galaxy on every blow. Runesword and lightning claw ring against each other with a sound like thunder. Energies potent enough to level planets are unleashed.


A backhand buffet from Horus knocks the Emperor through a stone bulkhead. The counterstroke tears a supporting column out of the ceiling as the Warmaster ducks.


In the warp the Emperor hears the Chaos Powers howl as they feed their pawn more power. The Lord of Humanity stands alone against their massed might and knows that he is losing. Somehow he cannot bring his full force to bear on the Warmaster. Horus shows no such restraint.


A lightning claw cuts the Emperor's armour as if it were cloth, sheers through flesh and bone. The Emperor ripostes with a psychic stroke intended to disrupt the Warmaster's nervous system. Horus laughs as he deflects it.


His claws take the Emperor across the throat, opening windpipe and jugular. Another blow severs the tendons of his wrist, causing the sword to drop from nerveless fingers.


Insane laughter echoes round the chamber. Horus breaks several ribs with an almost playful punch. A surge of energy seers the Emperor's face, melting the flesh till it runs, bursting an eyeball, sets the hair alight. The Emperor stifles a whimper, wonders how he can be losing. Blackness threatens to engulf him.


Horus grasps his wrist, splintering bones. Blood pumps from the Emperor's throat. Horus lifts his foe above his head and brings him down across his knee, breaking his spine.


For a second the Emperor knows only darkness then a flare of agony brings him back to consciousness as Horus rips his arm from its socket. The Warmaster howls with bestial triumph.


Suddenly the battering stops. Through his good eye the Emperor sees a solitary Terminator has entered the room. The marine charges toward the Warmaster, stormbolter blazing. Horus looks at him and laughs. For a moment he stands triumphant, allowing the marine to see what he has done to his Emperor.


The Emperor know what is going to happen next, sees the gloating triumph on Horus' face. There is no trace of his friend left there. There is only a daemon driven by insane destructive fury.


Horus turns his burning gaze on the Terminator and the marine's flesh flakes away to reveal his skeleton then even that is gone, reduced to dust.


The Emperor sees the trap that has been set for him. He has been restraining himself, trying not to hurt one who has been as a son to him. Now he sees that there is no trace of his trusted comrade left. He knows that he must stop this semblance of his former friend and avenge the fallen Terminator. He must strike one deadly blow. He will get no other chance.


He gathers every particle of his power, focuses it into a mighty bolt of pure force, more coherent than a laser, more destructive than an exploding sun. He aims it at Horus, a lance of power destined for the madman's heart. Horus senses the upsurge of energy and turns to face the Emperor, a look of horror on his face.


The Emperor lets fly. It strikes the Warmaster. Horus screams as destruction rains down on him, twisting and writhing in titanic agony. He strives frantically to counter the Emperor's deathblow but his struggles become ever more feeble as the lethal energies play over him.


Driven by all the force of his rage and pain and hatred the Emperor wills Horus's death. He senses the forces of Chaos retreat, disengaging themselves from their pawn. As they do so sanity returns to the Warmaster. The Emperor sees realisation of the atrocities he has commited flicker across Horus' face. Tears glisten there.


Horus is free but the Emperor knows he himself is dieing and that the Powers Of Chaos may once again possess the Warmaster and he will not be there to stop them. He cannot take that risk. Horus must die. Yet for a second, looking into his old friends face, he hesitates, unable to do the deed. Then he thinks of the slaughter that still goes on outside, may go on forever. Resolve hardens within him.


He forces all mercy and all compassion from his mind, empties it of all knowledge of friendship and love.


His eyes lock with Horus and see understanding there. Then with full cold knowledge of what he is doing the Emperor destroys the Warmaster.


Rogal Dorn enters the chamber. Horror fills him as he sees the mutilated form of the Emperor and the shrivelled husk inside the warmaster's armour. He curses himself for taking so long to fight through the Chaotic hordes. He knows now why their attacks ceased and why the ship is reverting to normal.


He rushes to the Emperor's side, detecting the faint pulse of life. Perhaps there is yet hope. Perhaps the ruler of the Imperium may live. Dorn will do his best to ensure it.

dragonclan21.jpg
You all know your destiny, deny it at your own peril.
Togashi Yokuni

 


#5 Shiro_Tamori

Shiro_Tamori

    Ryu

  • Members
  • 207 posts
  • LocationDeni-Kai Dojo, Greekugan

Posted 25 December 2008 - 01:39

Παρακάτω θα βρείτε μια λίστα με τους διαφορετικούς στρατούς του 40K και links για τον κάθε έναν από αυτούς. To link έχει πληροφορίες, φωτογραφίες, λίστα με μινιατούρες και επεξήγηση της κάθε μονάδας, σχέδια και πολλά άλλα.

Στο εισαγωγικό που παρέθεσα είδατε κάποιον όγκο πληροφοριών για τον Αυτοκράτορα και την Horus Heresy. Αυτά ήταν δύο πολύ μικρά κομμάτια του τεράστιου όγκου πληροφοριών, κειμένων, ιστοριών για την ανθρωπότητα.

Αλλά μην ξεχνάτε ότι υπάρχουν και άλλες φυλές, η κάθε μία εντελώς διαφορετική από την άλλη, με δική της ιστορία και όγκο πληροφοριών.

Κοινώς ένας μεγάλος χαμός. Ιδίως άν σκεφτείς ότι υπάρχουν αναλυτικές πληροφορίες ακόμα και για τον τρόπο κατασκευής και λειτουργίας του κάθε όπλου δεν ξέρεις τι να πρωτοδιαβάσεις. Ό όλος όγκος πληροφοριών συνοδεύεται από νουβέλες και τα διάσπαρτα άρθρα του White Dwarf, περιοδικού για τα παιχνίδια της Games Workshop.

Με τόσες πληροφορίες και πλούσια υπόθεση θα γινόταν άριστο RPG (μαντέψτε, το RPG Warhammer 40.000 : Dark Heresy έχει κυκλοφορήσει και προβλέπονται δύο επεκτάσεις- σε κάποια από αυτές ίσως μπορείς να παίξεις και marine)

Αυτοκρατορικοί

Οι Space Marines (Games Workshop)
Οι Daemonhunters (Games Workshop)
Οι Witch Hunters (Games Workshop
Οι Imperial Guard (Games Workshop)

Οι υπόλοιποι

Οι Chaos Space Marines (http://www.games-workshop.com/gws/content/article.jsp?categoryId=cat1300042&aId=2500017)
Οι Chaos Daemons(http://www.games-workshop.com/gws/content/article.jsp?categoryId=cat1300041&aId=3400010)
Οι Eldar (Games Workshop)
Oι Dark Eldar (Games Workshop)
Οι Necrons (Games Workshop)
Οι Orks (Games Workshop)
Οι Tau (Games Workshop)
Οι Tyranids (http://www.games-workshop.com/gws/content/article.jsp?categoryId=cat1300051&aId=2500025)

Οι παραπάνω στρατοί-φυλές χωρίζονται σε ακόμα περισσότερες υποκατηγορίες, η κάθε μια με τις δικές της ιδιότητες, ιστορία και εμφάνιση. Αλλά οι Space Marines και οι Chaos Space Marines έχουν τις πιο χαατριστικές υποκατηγορίες.

Space Marines

Ultra Marines (http://www.games-workshop.com/gws/content/article.jsp?community=&catId=cat1350002&categoryId=400028&aId=2500035)
Dark Angels (Games Workshop)
Blood Angels (http://www.games-workshop.com/gws/content/article.jsp?community=&catId=cat1350002&categoryId=900003&aId=2500023)
Space Wolves (http://www.games-workshop.com/gws/content/article.jsp?community=&catId=cat1350002&categoryId=900005&aId=2500034)
Black Templars (http://www.games-workshop.com/gws/content/article.jsp?community=&catId=cat1350002&categoryId=900001&aId=2100047)
Salamanders (Games Workshop)
Ravenguard (Games Workshop)
Imperial Fists (http://www.games-workshop.com/gws/content/article.jsp?community=&catId=cat1350002&categoryId=400028&aId=2500029)
Iron Hands (Games Workshop)
White Scars (http://www.games-workshop.com/gws/content/article.jsp?aId=2500036)
Blood Ravens
Legion of the Damned




Chaos Space Marines

Black Legion
Death Guard
Thousand Sons
Emperor's Children
Wolrd Eaters
Night Lords
Iron Warriors
Word Bearers
Alpha Legion

Edited by Tadaka, 25 December 2008 - 01:54.

dragonclan21.jpg
You all know your destiny, deny it at your own peril.
Togashi Yokuni

 


#6 DeathGuard

DeathGuard

    Πολύ 日本語 ρε παιδί μου...

  • Members
  • 207 posts

Posted 25 December 2008 - 04:35

Πολυ ωραιο παιχνιδι αλλα και πολυ ακριβο...
Intelligence is nothing without wisdom...