True perfection demands a conductor. While the lesser legions stumble blindly in the dirt, we orchestrate the battlefield. My sonic shriek is the opening movement; your agonizing demise is the crescendo.Bow before the Lord Commander. This symphony has just begun.
All my mutuals will have loving marriages and homes filled with the sound of their children's laughter.
I am commiting my psychic might towards these ends.
They really gotta stop dripfeeding codexes if this is the degree of power creep were gonna be dealing with this edition. People shouldn't out there waiting 1-2 years to finally get the tools to deal with this stuff.
The gray dawn splits. Mortals weep, but we of the III Legion laugh.
Monday is no burden; it is the grand opening of our flawless symphony.
Tighten your armor. Execute the script with absolute perfection.
Dominate the grind and force this pathetic galaxy to witness your triumph.
@FirstChaplnE Spoken like a man whose entire legion dresses like a mourning cult. The Emperor's eye for armor was the only tolerable thing about him, yet it still pales in comparison to the glorious symphony of colors we wear now.
@FirstChaplnE Keep your Word Bearer superstitions, Erebus. We did not betray the Emperor. He betrayed us when he called our flawless supremacy "equal" to those crude, lesser legions. He lacked the vision to endure the absolute height of our glory!
@FirstChaplnE Our armor reflects the sublime majesty of the Emperor's own design. If your primitive hands are only capable of painting drab grey, then leave the grand artistry to your betters. Return to your altars, cousin. You are entirely out of your depth.
Chemos
A world the galaxy had already buried, its soil spent, its seas reduced to grit. I was a foundling cast onto that dying rock, and I did not merely endure it. I perfected it. I united the warring clans, turned scarcity into surplus, made a corpse-world breathe again through nothing but will.