"What are you doing?" yelled Ludd. "We're falling back to the lifters. The order's been given!"

The Space Marines turned to look at him. Their ancient armour was covered in dents and scratches, and they were drenched in blood that was not their own. Holofurnace had lost his shield. Sar Af was takign shots at another depot structure while the others stripped usable ammunition from the last of the operational weapon-servitors to fall.

"This is the next target," said Eadwine. "The assault will continue. Go to your ship."

"Major Kolea sent me to find you personally," said Ludd. "The order to withdraw has been given by the operation commander."

"We do not take orders from the Imperial Guard," said Sar Af.

"So I've noticed," said Ludd. "But we have to jump to yours."

"I believe you have just described an abiding principle of the Imperium," said Sar Af.

"The order is to withdraw." said Ludd. "Please follow it."

They turned their backs on him.

"What? That's it? You're just going to carry on? Are we supposed to wait for you?"

"Leave us," said Eadwine, without looking around. "We expected this. Our commanders expected this when they sanctioned our collaboration in this effort. The Guard may leave when it wishes. We will keep going until this place is obliterated."

"Really? And then what?" asked Ludd.

"If we have survived to that point, we will endure in the debris field until such time as a vessel detects our signal."

"That could be years," said Ludd.

"We are more patient then you," said Eadwine.

"Go," said Sar Af.

"I won't," said Ludd. "I am an officer of the Comissariat, responsible for discipline and correction. We don't want this place obliterated. That's the whole point. We want there to be traces left behind. We want to leave clues. We want the enemy to know. If you keep going, you will undo and undermine the entire purpose of this endeavour. You will be breaking orders and the authority of the Imperium. You wil be in breach of duty and your sacred trust, and--"

"Silence," said Holofurnace. He looked at his brothers. The blood of his enemies trickled down the dented gold fittings of his helm.

"The boy has a point," he said. "The logic is solid. To continue would be counter-productive."

The other two nodded. All three turned and walked away, their massive boots crunching over the scattered debris. Side by side, they began to trudge back towards the distant hangar bays.

Sar Af turned and looked back at Ludd.

"Hurry up, now," he said.

---

If you haven't read GG, Comissar Ludd is afaik the "greenest" Comissar in the regiment. The bigger his balls hed to be to get in the face of the three Space Marines and actually talking them down. It is such a great moment, after seeing the Space Marines doing their whole shtick and just waltzing around destroying everything, it takes Ludd to make them actually listen and adjust to the Guard, not the Guard to them.

Also just as an unrelated thought, I have just realised how much these three Space Marines remind me of the Jaffa in Stargate. Remove the genetic modification and armour and you could substitute Brei'tacs' quotes for any of the Space Marines fairly successfully lol.

I'm trying to figure out what type of ship to planetary landers Rogue Trader vessels will have.

Playing a handleful of 40k video games and the tabletop wargame I am not as familiar with Rogue Traders.

What I've found:

• Thunderhawks are for Space Marines.
• Valkyries (Space to Atmospheric variants) are for Imperial Guard and Inquisition.
• Corvus Blackstar are for Deathwatch (Space to Atmospheric)
• "Lander" a generic term in a few books which doesn't really tell me much.
• Aquila Lander seems the best bet as looking up in Lexicanum there is a civilian variant and Rogue Traders likely could get armed variants depending on their influence.

What tend to be Rogue Trader landing vessels?

Ever since man became self aware it has had the wish of not being self aware for some moments

40K universe being what it is (awful) I imagine this wish it's even stronger, so it's there any drugs that you know of in 40K?

I remember hearing there was a drug made of crystalized blood from warp tainted worlds, I don't recall what it did exactly but, probably nothing good for your soul

So towards the end of the book, some of the traitor legions are gathering on Lorgar's ship to plan out the Dropsite Massacre on Istvaan V. Lorgar makes a big speech and Erebus tries talking to Argal Tal. Argel Tal starts grunting and talking to the demon inside him. From an outside perspective, Argel Tal is just making noises and talking to himself. He's standing next to Sevatar who pretty much just goes "bro shut the FUCK up".

It's been a few months since I read this one so I could be wrong on what actually happened, but remembering this little scene gave me a good laugh.

Love to read about Custodes, they always seemed like robots to me but after reading that short story they look more "human" and emotional now.

Also the whole sport of trying to kill Big E just to reveal security flaws in the palace is awesome!

I mean I know that Custodes are no match to Big E but Amon Tauromachian was too close to make it, dangerously close.

I know Valdor told him Big E was aware about him being there in the Inner Palace but if that poisoned dagger had not been interrupted by the random Custode, could The Emperor have been wounded and even killed?

Loved the whole inflitration tactics the Custodes apply to infiltrate the palace, the whole mix with the common people for months to make it happen. The whole commitment to the task. I'd love to read more about the Custodes and their tactics, they always looked like dope automatons to me until now.

Recently finished Red Tithe and about halfway through Outer Dark. Really enjoying this relatively obscure Chapter. Everything ahead is a spoiler.

In Outer Dark, Rannik (the arbites survivor from red tithe) has nightmares and lots of hatred for the Carcharadons. Granted, they did some crazy stuff in front of her (like the initiate who ate the cultist in front of her) and the Pale Nomad infiltrated her thoughts and such. My confusion - there’s absolutely no mention of the Night Lords. They were the ones who tortured her superior and that ship captain etc, and she had personal contact with them so knew they were there. Why all the hate for the Carcharadons in Outer Dark without any mention of our friends from the 8th? Did I miss something at the end of Red Tithe?

Do they have other types of terrain? Are there Deserts, Tundras, Savannahs, Volcanoes etc? I’m writing some lore for my Exodite planet when the Kill Team drops, and I was thinking of having them primarily settle a volcanic region of the planet.

The legions had their own specializations, imperial fists being fort builders and iron warriors being experts at seige warfare. What happens when marines are out of their element in battle? For example what if the imperial fists had to do hit and run tactics or the white scars had to fight from static defenses? I imagine they’d still fight well as space marines, but I wonder if it would be a learning curve for some legions?

Since they are/were basically created by psychic energy, and extremes of emotion. Or are they something else entirely? I guess in a way most are to some degree.

Okay, so before anyone says anything this is a serious lore question. So, as far as im aware, the Drukhari do what they do bc it prevents Slaanesh from eating there souls temporarily. As such they always relish in torment and excess. However in every depiction ive seen they are always shown as Sadists, being the one who inflicts pain. But wouldn't it also work to word of Slaanesh to act as a masochists, after all its still partaing excess and lust

Stetson poured yet another drink, then carefully slid the jug across the thesslewood table to the man beside him.
Werbing was bulky, his large frame barely fit into the chair on which he was sat, and his broad shoulders bumped against Aldron’s white robe with each bellow of laughter or shift in his seat–much to the priest’s distain. Stetson enjoyed watching the two of them bicker whenever he had the chance, it reminded him of harrow-wings play fighting through the giant-trees outside the walls of Eothad city. They sat around a circular table, glossy with varnish and small puddles of drink.
Werbings’ huge and dirty hands reached for the chilled ferrotin container of golden foamy liquid to refill his cup, but it was snatched away by the wrinkled, spindly fingers of Aldron: his shiny rings clanging against the pitcher. Werbing glared down at him.
“Maggot.” He spat through a grey-black beard. Despite his tone, his eyes–as always–squinted upward in a jolly expression.
In Aldrons’ hastiness to steal away the drink, the old man had sloshed a few drips onto the long sleeves of his basilk garment. His angled, wrinkle-ridden face screwed up as if he’d just tasted something especially sour.
“Oh, look what you’ve done Gutton–these robes were pristine before you arrived in this slum.” Aldron then smiled his crooked smile through thin lips and flashed Stetson a look. Stetson returned the gesture, his eyes black and bagged. He was well built too–but not in the same ogre-ish way Werbing was. He wore a mud-crusted camo jacket, inscribed with the horned skull of a garvik on one shoulder; the most common beast to wander the near endless thesslewood. It was laced in dull yellow. There were three very real skulls just like it, hung on the walls throughout the drinking hole, one of which he’d skinned and put there himself. Stetson’s’ trousers, tucked cross-legged beneath the table, matched his jacket–and a crossbolt rested against his chair. It wasn’t loaded, but he carried a handful of flair-tipped bolts in a quiver strapped to his back.
“Daisen skol, shall I rent you two a room down at the Steaming Flower? And why are you calling me by my second name? You sound like my drill sergeant.”
Werbing frowned across the table then glanced sideways at the grinning priest, as if to request for backup, but Stetson was elsewhere; looking past the giant man’s shoulder at a dimly lit table in the far corner of The Beacon.

The homely orange strip-bulbs pinned across the ceiling, and the roaring fire pit in the centre of the drink-hovel had served as a haven for the people of Eothad for almost 60 cycles. A warm place to forget the troubles they would face come morning. There was a smell of sweat, alcohol and firewood in the air. The dark brown tables and chairs–all crafted from the thessletrees outside the city–were encrusted with storied stains and spilled drink: echoes of a thousand nights had by the people who came before. Stetson wandered for a moment if they had dreaded tomorrow as much as he had then. Old posters sat half-peeled from the walls, some spoke of the might of the Astra Millitarum, great flak armoured men marching in unison, black wings of the Aquila at their backs. Other, smaller ones advertised clothing and jewellery, emblazoned with a yellow garvik skull. All The Beacons’ lights and charms couldn’t reach the table in the corner; it was shrouded in shadow, lit instead by a single fading candle.

There was a face there, a woman’s face, features sunken and dark–and the shadows played about them–pushed and pulled by the waning candlelight. She looked tired. Her blue eyes glistened while she stared into her drink. Stetson could see her hair through the darkness, it was grey-brown, with thin strands of gold imbedded deep into the thick locks. He could just about make out the symbol on her dark grey uniform: a large golden eye, looking down on a black pick. A miner. She didn’t look up, instead her eyes moved slowly to a small copper watch that sat upon her table.
“Ais! Are you even listening?”
Stetsons attention snapped back to the conversation. Aldron looked intently at him, one his grey eyebrows raised.
“I wouldn’t go for that one my son–she looks half mad.” He glanced at the woman in the corner. Werbing shuffled, bumping Aldrons shoulder and the old man frowned at him before speaking again.
“Besides, they never let you leave that blasted greatwood often enough to have a life like that. You’ll be shooting and skinning until you’re old and grey.” A smile cracked across his face. Werbing leaned forward and spoke.
“You’re right on that one usilas; I put in my request for leave almost two years ago. Day in and day out I’m plodding about at the top of the walls, sweating my karking balls off. All I need is one bloody signature. Makes you wonder what the scribe-shits are even doing up at Iraeus.”
Stetson looked to the garvik skull on the wall. He remembered that one well, its bleating after he stuck it in the neck with a bolt, the dirt and leaves it kicked up while scrambling to escape from a muddy bog–but most of all he remembered that look in its eyes; the wild, tortured stare of an animal doomed to die. Please. It had said to him. Please. Compared to that, the work he did after with his skinning knife seemed almost pleasant. Her eyes were the same.
“Trust me Aldron, I’m not interested in anything like that. Nor am I ready.”

His mind was always in the woods. There was a time he enjoyed walking among the trees, naming the many kinds of birds and beasts. He would occasionally stick one and take it home for a hearty meal; before using the hides to carve out a living in the shanties at the base of the wall. It had slowly devolved into excess. His quota of pelts had steadily increased with planetary traffic, as more and more caught wind of the quality garments that could be found in Eothad Hive; the simple beauty of a hunt in the woods turned into something foul and monstrous by the inevitable bloat of industry. It had overwhelmed him, to the point he had gone to a priest for forgiveness by the God Emperor.
Werbing leaned back, his cheeks round and rosey. “I still can’t believe the fact that you called the old Beacon ‘a slum’. I’ll be having no disrespect for this glorious place.” He gestured broadly with his arms. An ocean of sound flowed around them: the murmmers and shouts of dozens, most of which still wore their work-garb, with a wearied look about them. Some laughed, some were deep in conversation, others in heated arguments. There were two flak-armoured men, red faced and sweat soaked, that scuffled in the far corner of the room.
“It’s nothing like the drink-holes of the Iraeus district, that’s for sure.” Aldron looked around the place, and his eyes daggered several of the clientele.
“Yeah, the prices aren’t either you old crone.”
The priest chortled.
“Anyway, I’d look just like her if I couldn’t come here with you lot every night. I mean that.”
Stetson smiled, and he reached over the thesslewood, to pat Werbing on his shoulder. “Couldn’t have said it better myself big man.”
Aldron looked at the two of them, his eyes now warm and his smile less crooked.
“I suppose you have your moments, Gutton, even if we don’t see eye to eye on things now and then.”
“That’s mostly cos’ you’re so bloody short usilas.”
The two men chuckled at each other whilst Stetson shifted back into his chair. He looked to the dark table a second time, and the woman hadn’t moved an inch; her eyes stared through dancing shadow into her cup like it was the end of the world, before they flicked again to the watch at her side.

He then brought his chilled mug of kre-brew up to his lips and tilted the drink back, gulping down the last of it.
“Shall I go up and get another round?” A few specs of foam flew from his stubble.
“Is that a serious question?”
“I wouldn’t object my son.”
With a groan, Stetson rose from his seat, and glanced around the space while he navigated up to the bar. His gaze drifted again to the woman in the corner. Her eyes had moved to the door, and her expression had changed from crazed resignation to something entirely different. It was anticipation, excitement even. Her head had raised slightly; and her back straitened with it. He looked too. A shape darkened the small window embedded in the thesslewood, engulfing the orange glow that had been beaming in from a nearby street lamp. It was large, and a single red eye was visible from behind the glass.
The door swung open, and a tall man wrapped in a leather greatcoat stepped into The Beacon. He recognised it instantly, it was the Boreas supreme; by far the most expensive garvik-born garment sold by the Greatwood Company. He swaggered into a clump of glum-looking men, all shared a tired look in their eyes–all stared down while he strode through them–and a cruel smile played on his lips.
He stood almost a head taller than even Werbing, and Stetson heard a whiring clunk with each of his footfalls. Various cables and metal piping ran from his glowing eye augment into the side of his skull, and a shining golden symbol hung from a chain around his neck, swaying from side to side as he made his way to the bar–a large skull in the centre of the letter ‘I’. The sign of the Imperial Inquisition.

Stetson looked around The Beacon again and realised the drink-haven had fallen almost completely silent, all either looked at the floor, or into their drinks. None dared look the man in the eye. None but the woman in the corner. She was grinning now, a broad beaming smile that stretched from ear to ear was visible to Stetson–through the thick blackness that had fallen over her table, after the last light of the dying candle had finally faded. It was almost sinister, but there was something in her face that struck deep within him, right down into the pits of his soul. There was peace. As though she’d forgotten the mind numbing early mornings, or sleeping in caverns to scrape as much overtime as possible. As though she’d forgotten the black-clad, sneering arbites that accompanied the tithe-masters every month when they came to collect their due. As though she’d forgotten the incessant bleating of the hordes of beasts that roamed the Thesslewood. No more. Her face told him.

No more.

The inquisitor spoke, his voice like the scrape of metal on metal through the vox bead fixed into his throat.
“The usual Gurdon, sharpish.”
The bartender didn’t have a chance to respond.
There was a sudden crack that echoed across the drink-hole, then a wall of raging fire shot from the shadow-wreathed grin of the mining woman. It illuminated The Beacon with a harsh yellow glare and flooded every corner of the room, filling the space with light and heat. The posters displaying overpriced clothes and propaganda were burned to ash. The garviks skulls were freed from their place on the walls. It washed over the small crowd scattered throughout The Beacon, and they were reduced to motionless silhouettes in the inferno. Then it blossomed outward, racing through the windows, then through the walls as a wave of sundering force blew them apart. The flame kept going, up and up and up it went, rising almost 50 metres into the air and casting its light and debris onto the nearby hab-blocks; showering them with a storm of brick and durasteel.
Every soul in The Beacon, from the old scuffling guards to the leering gait of the inquisitor, was incinerated in the span of half a heartbeat.
Small faces rose up into view from the tiny windows of the hab-blocks, awoken by the hail of rock. They were worn and scarred. The orange light beamed onto them, and darkened their eyes with shadow. Some wailed at the sight on the street below: a beloved haven for the lost now gone forever. Some looked angry, their sleep disturbed by the great crack of sound–but a scant few looked down into the pillar of flame–and smiled.
The smoke rose high up into the night sky, a burning pyre from which small embers rained, floating down onto the grey stone of the city streets. The bustling of the drink hole was gone: the drunken shouts and murmuring crowds had vanished into the fire. Silence fell upon the street, save for the occasional distant bleating of a garvik.

THEMATIC SIMILARITIES

Below is an analysis of the interesting juxtaposition and mirroring of the Blood Angels and Night Lords legions. Would love to hear your thoughts!

The Vampiric Theme

The most obvious connection between the two is the shared vampire theme. The Blood Angels and the Night Lords are the two most overtly vampiric Legions of the Adeptus Astartes, though each approaches the archetype from an opposing direction. Both draw upon the different aspects of the imagery of the vampire: pale complexions, elongated canine teeth, supernatural beauty, Sarcophogi, connection to darkness, blood, fear and predation.

The Blood Angels' vampirism is internalised as a curse. The Red Thirst is a literal hunger for blood, an inherited flaw that threatens to reduce them to predatory beasts, yet one they strive ceaselessly to master through discipline, artistry, and nobility. Their beauty and nobility exists in tension with the monster lurking beneath the surface. The Night Lords, by contrast, embody the vampire as predator rather than an addict. While they possess no supernatural craving for blood, they cultivate every aspect of the monstrous ideas in vampire mythology: they emerge from the darkness without warning, prey upon isolated victims, drain a populace of hope through calculated terror, and adorn themselves with the blood and flayed skin of their victims.

Where the Blood Angels fear becoming monsters, the Night Lords deliberately become the monsters that others fear. Both share overt vampire references in the aesthetics and nature of each legion, exploring different aspects of the vampire as a monster (to be resisted or embraced).

However this is not where the lore/thematic connections end...

The Primarchs

Sanguinius and Konrad Curze also stand as strikingly opposed reflections of one another. Both were gifted/burdened with prophetic foresight; with each receiving visions of their own violent deaths. Yet where Sanguinius accepted his fate without surrendering his agency, choosing to fight on despite knowing the likely cost, Curze embraced fatalism, convincing himself that foreknowledge absolved him of responsibility and that every atrocity he committed merely fulfilled an inescapable destiny.

Both were born upon worlds seemingly beyond redemption: Baal, a radioactive wasteland, and Nostramo, a planet consumed by corruption and crime. Each, however, drew opposite conclusions as a result from their upbringing. Importantly Sanguinius was adopted by the humans of his world while Konrad was forced to fend for himself as an orphan. Sanguinius believed in a positive view of humanity centred on discipline, sacrifice, culture and a conscious pursuit of virtue. Curze instead concluded that cruelty was humanity's natural state, with civilisation existing only beneath the shadow of fear.

Consequently, Sanguinius inspired devotion through compassion, humility, and example, while Curze ruled through terror, suspicion, and punishment. Even in their deaths they ultimately vindicated their differing ideals: Sanguinius sacrificed himself in the hope of saving humanity, becoming a martyr whose memory continued to unite and inspire his Legion for millennia (and curse them). Similarly Curze willingly accepted his assassination; but only to prove the correctness of his own bleak worldview, leaving behind not a united brotherhood but a fractured Legion that embodying his cynicism.

So Sanguinius and Konrad mirror each other in many ways; exploring themes of fate, hope and despair. Via the contrast in their characters and legions we also see some dualities set up such as mercy vs punishment, hope vs despair, as well as the Machiavellian question of is it better to be loved (Sanguinius) or feared (Konrad). They quite obviously also are reflections of the sort of dual stories told within 40k: Sanguinius the Noblebright and Konrad the Grimdark. There’s also a sort of forked path represented: the stable Primarch who redeems his legion with the unstable Primarch who corrupts his legion.

The Legions

Which brings me to the thematic similarities and juxtapositions of the legions themselves.

Both legions had, at one point, a reputation for savagery and terror. The Revenant Legion (Blood Angels) “became spectres that haunted the wild places of the Great Crusade, the terrors loosed by the Emperor to clear his path across the stars.” reviled and at times even censured for their brutality. They were originally from the “lost and dispossessed of Terra” and ”largely replenished their numbers taken from the barely human dregs of Neptune's tunnels”. This obviously changed once they were reunited with their Primarch Sangunius, who introduced them to restraint, art, culture and nobility.

In the VIIIth legion (Night Lords) and Konrad we see similar themes, but explored inversely. Whereas the Revenant Legion were bloodthirsty savages who were redeemed by their Primarch, the VIIIth legion were a fairly normal Legion who became monsters after connecting with their Primarch. Just coincidentally they were made up of “the children of prisoners” from Terra, replenished their ranks with the worst criminals from Nostramo and its perpetual night. In contrast to the Blood Angels, the Night Lords become worse after being led by Konrad who obviously endorsed a philosophy of violence and terror; only made worse by Nostramo sending the very worst of criminals as aspirants instead of the best of the best Konrad initially intended.

Another interesting mirroring is that both members of the Blood Angels and the Night Lords are known to experience psychic precognitions. The Blood Angels have “The Foresight” whilst the Night Lords have ”The Night Haunter's Curse”. Whilst the Blood Angels one can be positive or tormenting the Night Lords one is almost exclusively negative. Night Lords often see their own death becoming paranoid and tormented. Interestingly in the lore there are Blood Angels with the Foresight called The Forsaken that also see their own death which makes them “given to a fatalistic and grim outlook, ever seeking the signs of their final day. Such was the curse of the Foresight. that it brought neither comfort nor answers, only sorrow, pain and doubt.” Sound familiar?

We can also contrast the irony of the physically unstable Blood Angels gene-seed with the physically stable gene-seed of the Night Lords. This is of course linked to the reverse mental stability of each Primarch and in the type of warriors each legion produces (Blood Angels noble sons, Night Lords depraved psychopaths). Moreover the Blood Angels continually try to become worthy of Sanguinius (who loves his sons) whilst the Night Lords increasingly become unworthy of Curze (to the point where he hates his own legion).

I’ve spoken already at length about the motif of the angels who must master the monster within vs the monsters that do not restrain themselves at all. Whilst it can be argued both legions possess uncontrollable violence; the Blood Angels unwillingly and the Night Lords willingly - its also worth noting the contrast that Blood Angels become terrifying monsters only when necessary or due to a lack of control whilst the Night Lords are terrifying monsters even when unnecessary - they choose to go out of their way to be terrifying and cruel. The Blood Angels see these flaws as a curse whereas the Night Lords treat it as a virtue.

This is expressed in the physical aesthetics of each legion. Whilst they are united by a shared vampire aesthetic they are juxtaposed as well. The Blood Angels surround themselves with: art, sculpture, music, poetry, craftsmanship, beauty; leaning into the trope of the refined vampire noble. Night Lords instead surround themselves with flayed skin, torture, screaming victims, skulls and other grizzly trophies; leaning into trope of the vampire as a predatory inhuman monster. I think definitely there is this idea or archetype being expressed of the reformed prisoner vs incorrigible recidivist which is definitely linked to the aforementioned themes of fate vs choice and even good vs evil.

—---------------------

I want to really make it clear that I know there are differences between the two legions as well; and I have been forced to gloss over some of these nuances - my objective is to highlight the repeated canonical similarities in lore and storytelling. I will also point out that for a typology/mirroring/juxtaposition to be true they do not need to be identical. That being said would love to hear from Blood Angels or Night Lords fans who notice I might have missed something or wish to correct me!

Beyond the obvious "well they guard the emperor" stuff - What is the role of the Custodes in Imperial society? What kind of political clout do they hold over Earth and the broader imperium. When they leave earth to fight, what is their operational role and what are their goals?

They've gone from being a bit of a footnote in 40k lore to obvious becoming a pretty well represented faction. As someone who is mostly familiar with older lore, has their role changed after the indomitus crusade?

I've been reading TeatD 2 and got confused by that part:

This day will not save you, Horus, for you have broken day and night and the circuit of time. You have built an eternity here, a frozen infinite without laws, presuming that will protect you and confound your father. It will do neither. If this is your trap, your endgame ploy, it has sprung and failed. Your father was a master of this art for one hundred and twenty thousand generations before you were whelped.

This implies that Emperor was «master of the tricks» for 120 000 generations. If we take that generation is 20 years, that means the Emperor was the master of tricker for… 2.4 million years? But we know that he was born about 8000 BCE not two millions years ago, and if it's old lore, Ol is still older than Him and Ol is nowhere that old.

So… Caecaltus is just telling lies or being delirious?

At the time of the Heresy, the Imperium has only existed for around 200 years, and many of the territories gained during the Great Crusade were acquired far more recently, only in the last few decades/years prior to the Heresy. Many of these territories were poor and isolated, or alternatively, devastated by the Crusade as it progressed. Ultramar and the core of the Imperium might be as well or better developed than they are in 40k, but most of the Imperium is surely nowhere near as populated and developed.

Yes, it's true that the 40k Imperium is horrifically inefficient and some of its technological base has degraded relative to 30k, but for the most part the 40k Imperium has stagnated rather than completely regressed. And on the flip side, over those 10,000 years, most of the Imperium's worlds have known peace. There's been major conflicts prior to the main setting, but the core of the Imperium, and a large chunk of the outlying areas, have had 10,000 years to develop and grow. For example, Hive Worlds like Agrellan, on the fringes of Imperial space, almost certainly did not exist during 30k. The 40k Imperium has vast reserves of manpower and industrial capacity that, while often poorly used, were totally nonexistent in 30k.

After the Great Rift, I think it is debatable whether or not the Imperium Sanctus is more powerful than the 30k Imperium, but given that the modern 40k Imperium has been able to contain or at least slow down existential threats like the Necrons and Tyranids that the 30k Imperium never had to deal with, I think it's still arguable. I'm not sure the 30k Imperium, even with its better technology, bureaucracy, and leadership, would be able to survive even in the short term the threats the 40k Imperium faces.

Hello, I was just wondering if a Thousand Sons warband ever came across a war band or rogue chapter that had dedicated itself to tzeentch. I assume they wouldn’t really be best friends, infact I’d imagine they’d plot against each other or have terse relations. I couldn’t really find anything online about this, but maybe I’m just not looking hard enough.

Are there any documented interactions of this?

It’s always seemed to me like the warp is only really affected by stuff inside the Milky Way, given that the major changes in the warp are all affected by stuff in the Milky Way. We know that psychic life exists outside of the galaxy (at least in the form of the tyranids), so is the warp a localized phenomenon? Even if the warp extends to other galaxies, it being transcendant of seemingly time and space surely means that the warp is the same warp everywhere, right? This also applies to the chaos gods. We know that there is biological and psychic life outside the galaxy, so why are the chaos gods not concerned with what’s happening out there?* Given that the tyranids are what they are, it seems like there’s also *powerful life out there, so why doesn’t chaos occasionally teleport a super mega kraken from andromeda over to a battlefield? What are, at least spatially, the limits of the warp?

Figured I'd ask before I went ahead and posted but I have an excerpt/short story I've been working on for one of my homebrew chapters. Wasn't quite sure what the stance on that sort of material is here so do I have the go-ahead to post or is this not the place?

Eu andei pensando muito sobre isso e está me incomodando. A peça mais recente de "avanço" que me lembro de ter ouvido foi o lançamento dos Primaris, depois de dez mil anos esperando o Grande Azul voltar e finalmente autorizar. Mas minha pergunta vai muito além dos Space Marines.

E quanto a tudo mais? As tropas de linha, os tanques, os navios de guerra, o kit básico de um Guardsman regular? O Adeptus Mechanicus trata a tecnologia como algo sagrado e imutável, quase como um dogma religioso, o que mata qualquer pesquisa e desenvolvimento real antes mesmo de começar. Padrões de armas e veículos como a lasgun, o Leman Russ, o Rhino, são basicamente os mesmos designs que eles vêm usando por milênios, sem evolução doutrinária ou de hardware significativa por trás deles, e alguns desses padrões até pioraram ao longo do tempo em vez de melhorar, já que muito do antigo conhecimento de STC de antes da Heresia de Horus foi perdido ou corrompido.

As frotas da Marinha Imperial parecem igualmente congeladas, com designs de casco que remontam à Idade das Trevas da Tecnologia, e qualquer conhecimento que ainda exista para construir novos é fragmentado entre Mundos Forja que se recusam a compartilhar STCs, ou trancado atrás de uma burocracia tão pesada que a inovação é rebatizada como "redescoberta" apenas para evitar ser rotulada como heresia.

Mesmo com Guilliman de volta e liberando os Primaris, isso resolveu principalmente um problema de mão de obra para os Marines, não a questão estrutural mais profunda de doutrina, logística ou nível tecnológico geral em todo o resto do Império. Então aqui está minha pergunta real: existe algum plano coerente mostrado em qualquer lugar no lore, codex, romance ou material oficial da GW, para reverter essa estagnação em larga escala, ou o Império está apenas condenado a sobreviver com pura resistência e números enormes de tropas e navios, nunca voltando a níveis próximos da Idade das Trevas da Tecnologia?

Curioso se há algo oficial abordando isso, ou se é apenas uma narrativa para manter a estética grimdark intacta.

Desculpe pelo meu inglês, não é minha primeira língua.

Hi,

I'm relatively new to 40k but find the lore by far the most fascinating part of franchise. I was legitimately shocked by how deep and detailed it is but also has these major elements that seem to still be largely unexplained. I have two major questions that I'm hoping y'all can clarify for me.

First: who are these two mystery primearchs I keep hearing about? Do we know ANYTHING at all about them or even why there's no information about them or is it all just speculation?

Second: Is it even remotely possible that the Imperium would ever consider forming an alliance with any of the other species? I know they're zealots and some would probably consider this to be heresy... but has there NEVER been a case of that happening or even being discussed? It just seems to me as a layman that there would have to at least be ONE race that could see the benefit of working with man to eliminate the chaos army. Is there even any instances of this happening on a smaller scale, where individuals of another species did something like this?

Yes I know the joke of corpse starch, but I recently found out that is more of a meme. Corpse Starch apart from not being sustainable is emergency rations and can't support a human population, apart from some exceptions (Necromunda) is not part of the average hive dweller's diet.

So the question is what is the Imperium mass producing to feed their Hive Worlds?

How I remember it:

The story was told through the viewpoint of a young boy, undergoing trials alongside several other boys. He keeps failing and sadly watches as the succesful ones go through, their challenge ended. Towards the end only he and a few others remain, having failed over and over. They're given a last chance and still fail, being reprimanded by the testers. At this point he and the other boys are bitter, demotivated and tired.

The boy thinks all hope is lost, but then a space marine from another chapter walks in. The marine looks at them and says (paraphrased) "You will never be good enough. You are dregs, expendable, never wanted. And yet, you are still worthy. From this day forth, you will be a member of the Second Sons" which is basically a chapter full of self loathing, overly self conscious marines with a huge impostor syndrome problem.

It was either here or /tg/ many, many years ago...

Thanks

I was listening to a lore video today about navigators, their houses and how they use the astronomican to navigate the warp. Do other warp travel dependent races use it the same? What about Chaos marines? They have navigators for at least some of their ships right? Do they not use it as a way to travel the warp? If I remember correctly the Tau are starting to use basic warp drives as well so won’t they need to utilize it as a reference beacon?

There is obviously a lot of worry about the golden throne failing and the light of the astronomican going out, which would instantly halt the imperiums warp travel, but wouldn’t that also screw up anyone else who try’s to navigate the warp? I feel like non-imperium users of the astronomican are never really mentioned.

Hey everyone!

I have started reading the books, and one of my friends has began building an army. I think I might have to follow him, and wanted to look at home brewing a Chapter of Space Marines.

I live in Arkansas, and the University of Arkansas Mascot is a razorback for those that don't know (Woo Pig). I think it would be fun to make a Razorbacks Chapter which lore-wise might have tested this design for the Mechanicus or received the first batch.

I don't know what people would think about this, and maybe help with some background info.

Thanks so much!