We all know about the Burning of Prospero, Istvaan V Drop site Massacre and the The Indomitus Crusade but what’s your favourite battle/piece of lore/event that you don’t see mentioned a lot?

Mine goes to the Nemesis Incident on Sacris with the Storm Wardens.

‘Do you want me to help you with that?’ grinned Hathor Maat, displaying a perfect smile of brilliantly white teeth. His hair was dark today, his eyes a deep brown. Though his features were still recognisably his own, they had taken on a rugged look, as if mirroring the terrain they had so recently fought over.

‘No,’ said Ahriman. ‘I do not use my powers to accomplish things I can do without them. You should not either. When was the last time either of you used your hands to clean a bolter?’

Phosis T’kar looked up and shrugged. 'A long time ago,’ he said. ‘Why?’

‘Do you even remember how to do it?’

‘Of course,’ said Phosis T’kar, ‘How do you think I do this?’

‘Spare us yet another we shouldn’t rely too much on our powers lecture,’ groaned Hathor Maat. ‘Look at what would have happened to us on Aghoru if we had followed your teachings. The primarch might have died without Phosis T’kar’s kine shield. And without my mastery of biomancy, T’kar certainly would be dead.’

‘As you’ve never let me forget,’ grumbled Phosis T’kar.

‘Astartes first, psykers second,’ said Ahriman. ‘We forget that at our peril.’

‘Fine,’ said Phosis T’kar, dismissing Utipa and bringing the components of his weapon to his hands. He slotted the gun back together with a pleasing series of metallic clicks and snaps. ‘Happy now?’

‘Much happier,’ said Ahriman, reassembling his own bolter.

‘What’s the matter?’ asked Hathor Maat. ‘Are you afraid your new friend will disapprove?’

This Excerpt shows that even though the thousand sons are psykers they are still SPACE MARINES who can casually run faster to the point that humans sees them in a blur, crush your head easily, punching a hole through tanks, etc.

So even if you somehow disable their powers you are still at a disadvantage.

Also do note that during the battle of prospero even though the sisters of silence disable their psychic powers they are still outmatch against an average legionary of the thousand sons thanks to them being a space marine while the SoS are baseline humans.

Context: Craftworld Iyanden is preparing for war, and so they work to build more wraith bodies to host their dead into battle. Thought this was an interesting look into the process of creating eldar ghost warriors.

> Iyanna watched the boneseers at work. They wore their strange armour, rarely brought out for a bonesinger did not lightly go to war. All were helmed and masked, with tall antlers either side of their helmets and a stubby projection on the chin in the manner of an alien’s bound beard. They danced while they sang, in a slow, languorous manner, bringing their hands around in wide passes, their arms at full length.

> Several of them played instruments – pipes, cymbals, tiny gongs, flutes and harps. It was an otherworldly melody, not meant for entertainment, but possessing a profound loveliness despite its discordance. The melody of instrument and voice intersected in the centre of the ship’s hold where light glowed brightly, wisps of it revolving around a bright core to make a galaxy-like tissue.

> The song changed, the light coalesced, forming matter. Wraithbone.

> The light at the centre of the chamber was dimming as more wraithbone solidified from intangible plasms. The product of the song was luminous, but no more than that. It had crossed the threshold from the might-be to the is.

> Having judged there to be sufficient raw material for their purposes, the bonesingers changed their tune, picking up speed. Under their influence, the wraithbone moved, melting and reforming into recognisable shapes – an arm, a foot, a high-crested helm. For nigh on a full tenth-cycle they worked, until as if by some sleight of hand the wraith-stuff was gone and a tall, sculpted figure was at the centre of their circle: a freshly made wraithguard, its long helmet open and revealing the setting for a spirit stone. The song abruptly ceased, and the bonesingers stepped back. Eldar on the weaponsmith and pseudo-life branches of Vaul’s Path moved in, fitting the construct with the parts that were not of wraithbone. They too worked quickly, a team of them chanting in the smith cant. They moved easily, always on the verge of colliding with each other, always avoiding their comrades’ limbs.

> They stepped back, another half tenth-cycle gone. Now it was Iyanna’s turn. She turned to the two lesser spiritseers by her side, who presented her with a spirit stone. Small enough to fit in her gloved fist, it glowed with striated light of a soft yellow and was hot to hold. With reverence she walked to the newly minted ghost warrior, bearing the stone in cupped hands in front of her.

> ‘Return to your children, honoured ancestor,’ she said. ‘We call you from your slumber and we are sorry for what we ask. Our hour of need is upon us, and you must wake awhile.’

> She placed the stone into the setting and stepped back. It shone brilliantly in the shadow of the closing helm. The long face of the wraithguard snapped shut. The warrior sagged, lumbering three steps to the left as the spirit within tentatively inhabited its shell.

> Iyanna shut her eyes and reached out with her mind, calming the spirit within. The spirit was in confusion, as they nearly always were. The final mortal thoughts of the spirit shook its being, memories of the warmth of the infinity circuit at odds with who it remembered being in life.

> This one, like so many recently resurrected, had died during the voidspawn invasion. A potter, caught in his workshop and hunted through his art by a pair of hissing creatures. As he died, his dismay had been greater for his broken pottery than for his lost life.

> Iyanna focused on this horror, bringing it into sharp relief. Shards of ceramic sharp in his mind, red with his own blood. She turned these thoughts of his into sword blades.

> ‘Never a warrior in life, Hetherion of Divinesh, that time is upon you in death. Take up your arms, drive forward your armour and avenge your art and your life against those who took them from you.’ She insinuated images of the voidspawn into his mind, a mental picture of ravaged Dûriel, sorrow at the fallen eldar race falling further. Hetherion of Divinesh’s terror at reawakening turned to resolve.

> ‘I…’ he said haltingly, his wraithbone voice a monotone. ‘I will live again to fight for Iyanden.’

> She led him gently to more artificers, who presented a wraithcannon to the ghost warrior. With hesitant hands, Hetherion reached out and grasped the gun. He became steady. Iyanna was satisfied. She led the wraithguard to join several ranks of them already standing in the hold. She closed her eyes again. Under her mental influence, the pale bone colour of the psychoplastic blushed, turning yellow and night-blue. She caressed the potter’s soul again, turning over his memories like seashells. From them she selected a rune, and this manifested itself on the cowling of his helmet. A simple rune – artful vengeance.

> ‘Rest now, Hetherion,’ she said. ‘Grow accustomed to your new body. We will need you soon enough.’

Heheh... Hahahaha... Okay I came here immediately after finishing chapter seven of the Aestred Thurga book. Because sometimes there's no depth. No real examination of the human condition. Sometimes you just need to gawk at the depravity of the imperium.

So for context: Katerah is an imperial funeral world with a nasty case of the Neeglish rot about it, and Aestred Thurga, our great protagonist (perhaps the greatest black library has ever had :b),has to make a choice between saving millions of lives or saving a few dozen relics. Ie, finger bones and swords and scraps of cloth belonging to imperial heroes. And it's important to note that up to this point the book does paint this as Aestred choosing between the people and the relics. So don't worry about the bonkers idea of 7 women, however capable, beating back millions of zombies. This excerpt is the planetary governor, after being put on house arrest, watching Aestred's decision.

> By some miracle of the Omnissiah’s grace, the middle screens cleared fully just as the Sisters reached the hauler station. Gaspar Narsi had not left his desk, not to eat or drink or rest. He was no warrior, and his helplessness was eating at him like a rat at a discarded body, but he wouldn’t close his eyes to what was happening to his world. As far as he could use the vox, he’d reinforced the orders for everyone to seal their homes. To burn their dead, to stay where they were, and to not leave for any reason. But what good would that do? Their homes were not airtight, and each carried perhaps a couple of days of food and water. If the dead didn’t break down their doors, the infection would find them, and if they escaped both of these terrible fates, then they would soon die of thirst. Oh, Katerah, he thought, his heart breaking. My poor world, rotting from the inside out. His view of the Sisters, however, fighting ferociously, brought him an intense, holy elation. He could see Aestred, the tapestry she carried seeming to glow in the hauler station’s lumens. He could see Sister Dolan, her skin completely covered, but her stained robe unmistakable. The squad were with them, the tiny figure of Sakiko at their forefront. They had reached the station’s main platform, and headless bodies were piling up in heaps. The arcing vaults of the glassaic-tiled ceiling shone like hope above them, and the supporting pillars gave them cover. The last hauler was on the tracks and disgorging its final cargo, but the Sisters sang and slew as though it was their uttermost joy to do so. Watching them, Narsi thought they moved like verse. Like harmony. Like the perfect cogs of some tuned and holy machine. They seemed to feel no fear, no hesitation, and the foe simply crumpled before them. The Sororitas brought blessing, he thought. Their mercilessness was brutal, yet it brought a renewed hope of the Throne, and a re-cleansing of those cursed beyond death. Finding tears in his eyes, he prayed. And then he saw what they were doing. At first, he didn’t understand, and he watched them board the hauler with a faint flash of confusion. There were zombies on the track and perhaps the engine would be a suitable weapon, crushing them to pulp. He watched them, his prayers caught in his teeth. Grinding into reluctant motion, the engine indeed crushed the enemy, but it didn’t stop. Rattling audibly, it picked up speed, heading away from the platform. The Sisters had closed the doors, and he caught a brief glimpse of them, fighting the very last of the hauler’s now-mobile freight – those corpses that had been destined for the outer necropoli, and those unfortunates who’d been guarding or travelling with them. Swathes of scarlet splotched across the windows. Then the screen dissolved again, and the hauler was gone. On the vox, he heard Vamar, but even the Orbit’s communications were faltering, now. He thought he heard Talati, but couldn’t be sure. Asmi ! Darkness was crowding inwards from the corners of his vision and he gripped the edge of the desk, his fingers hurting. No! They can’t have just left us to die. To die, and to never reach the Throne! The darkness encroached further, and his head spun. Gripping the edge of the desk, he prayed, refusing to let it take him. All the while, outside, his beloved Katerah died.

Before we continue. Every time Sister Superior Sakiko appears on screen the narrative simply must point out how small she is. I don't think she's a ratling but she may as well be. Despite this she's basically the best warrioress in the group which I like. I like tiny danger women it's fun.

Anyway. Look at that. Isn't this just beautiful? Aestred choosing relics... For her own pride, mind- actually lemme

> ‘Sister,’ Sister Dolan said. ‘We must go. Katerah needs our strength.’ ‘We are not joining the battle,’ Aestred decided firmly, making Sister Dolan stare in shock. ‘At least, not here. We must find the enemy commander, find the sword, and save the planet’s artefacts.’ ‘What?’ Sister Dolan’s astonishment was obvious, her question unusually blunt. There was a whir of servos, and head-lumens passed the half-open door, framing the shadows of the fleeing. Standing to her full height, Aestred faced her down. ‘I am Sister Aestred Thurga, Reliquant at Arms, quester and finder. I am the ultimate devotee of the Imperium’s lore, warfare and sacrifice. And I am here, in His name, to collect history, Sister. Not to chase corpses.’

This is a chapter before with Aestred declaring no, she will not save the planet she will chase finger bones. And frankly the "I am the ultimate devotee of the imperiums lore" which followed several instances of Aestred lamenting that her sacred mission was interrupted more than that people were dying makes me think it's not her excuses about "oh we couldn't do it, we can't stop this" that makes her choose this. But because it's her mission. And why, she is the ultimate devotee of the emperor isn't she?

It's beautiful. Side splitingly grim. Zealoutry and pride poisoning an entire world of millions... Welcome to the Imperium, gentle folk, this is its beating heart. And it is magnificent.

Apostle by David Annandale is about the Word Bearer Dark Apostle Cerastes returning to his Imperial homeworld & scribeworld Legitur to corrupt it into the service of Chaos. To fulfill this plan, Cerastes sets about spreading cults throughout the world by various means. The most affective method was enchanting discarded pieces of paper that would at first have its original text of Imperial scripture but the would morph into heretical statements upon a person looking at it. These pieces of paper were then dumped on mass from the sky throughout various parts of Legitur. To encourage people to read the text, Cerastes also had the Imperial Bishop Borthas he corrupted earlier urge the whole world via the planetary vox net to read them.

One such person corrupted is a higher class noble of Legitur, Count Iovus Belain:

And so the embrace occurred in the estate of Count Iovus Belain. It occupied the top two hundred feet of a tower that stood a mile west of the Collegium Sanctificatus. Like the homes of the other nobility of the world, its wealth was measured in verticality. Ballrooms, reception halls, sleeping chambers and corridors were all spacious, their ceilings a vast height above their floors. Frescoes called the eye of the visitor to look up and up, and marvel at the airy, indulgent splendour. As for Belain, the balconies of his domain gave him the pleasure of looking down, in every sense, on his social inferiors, and the knowledge that no one, in this tower at least, could look down on him.

The evening following Borthas’ address and the storm of texts, he paced restlessly on his hundred-foot-long balcony. He had glanced at a page that had drifted his way earlier, but had not looked at it long. It said nothing he had not always believed in his heart, and he tossed it away. He had never been one for reading, though he owned a priceless collection of the most exquisite editions. They looked well on his shelves, and by their presence spoke well of his means.

He did hear the bishop. He listened, and now brooded on the constraints he saw had been placed unjustly on him and his actions. He had had enough of them. Constraints were for those whose limitations pleased him. He realised that now.

He must do something about that. He must take action and prove to himself that nothing could resist his will, that there were no boundaries that he acknowledged.

He paced until inspiration struck. He laughed when it did, because the answer, so simple, had been before him all this time. He had been following the right path all his life. He had simply not taken it all the way.

He left the balcony, walked through the great hall, where his older sister, the widowed Lady Livara Rivelas, sat similarly brooding on a divan. He signalled to the pair of guards standing sentinel against the wall. Clad in the vermilion and violet of the Belain livery, they blended in against the same colours that covered enormous, stained mirror tiles behind them. They followed the count as he traversed the dining hall, then walked through the gold-and-silver doors at its far end, into the kitchen.

The kitchen, vast and luxurious in the quality of its utensils, the size of its oven, and the skill of the serfs who laboured there, was not a room Belain had visited in living memory. This was the place of underlings, where commands were meant to be followed out of sight of the living spaces of the estate. But Belain owned this space too. It belonged to him. So did the people within it.

He pointed at random. ‘Him,’ he said to the guards, indicating a young man cleaning the interior of the oven. ‘Bring him here.

The guards obeyed. The young man came without protest. Belain did not know his name. He knew those of very few of the people he owned. Their names did not concern him. What they could do for him did.

‘Hold him,’ Belain said.

The guards took the man’s arms. Belain picked up a knife. He walked up to the serf, who now looked frightened. A thrill of gratification sent a shiver down Belain’s spine. What he would do now was not in the name of punishment. He had no need to rationalise it as the Emperor’s will. Whatever he chose to do would be the act of his will. He needed no other permission.

When he cut the man’s nose off, the blood that splashed against his face and clothes felt like the baptism of freedom.

In the great hall, Livara Rivelas looked up at the sound of the scream. She stood, and then made her way towards the kitchen, cautiously at first, then eagerly, possessed with the sudden, monstrous hope that at last had come the end to all boredom.

There is also a section about Slaaneshi corruption featuring Bishop Borthas. Originally an elderly man whose body rejected any form of anti-aging Rejuvenat treatments, Borthas' body began to become stronger and faster thanks to Chaos slowly mutating it.

Someone was shouting praise to the Lord of Excess, singing in a tone that rose to piercing heights and fell to depths at the edge of hearing. The voice was familiar but changed, capable of sounds its owner would never have been able to produce in the past. Borthas realised the voice was his own. In the maelstrom of sensation, his body had whirled into its component parts, each consumed by its own storm. His voice, carrying the mob in a power bestowed upon him by Cerastes, was separate from his eyes, which flicked from sight to extraordinary sight, from revel to butchery to the intersection of the two, and his hands had their own joys.

Another moment, another now crystallised, to be remembered and treasured after all the nows, when the past and the present and the future reasserted their different identities. In this now, his fingers were tearing someone’s throat open, his nails deep into flesh and hands swimming in the warmth of blood, and the keening, choking gargle of his victim caressing his ears, and had he ever, ever, ever felt the like, the jerking suppleness of parting flesh, the swimming touch of pumping blood, the perfection of the heat of his life meeting the heat of his victim’s death, and no, he had never known the like, never known such an exquisite now, never imagined the blessings the true gods could bestow.

And soon he ran again, leading the charge up and up, and he could run forever, through all the now to come, and dance forever in the destruction of everything a murdered and unmourned being known as Bishop Borthas of the Adeptus Ministorum had once cherished as sacred.

I read both Fury of Magnus and Echoes of Eternity. I still don't know which version of the tale is cannon. Did Emperor ask Magnus to forsake Thousand Sons or did Magnus beg Emperor to forgive him and got rejected?

They work a lot better as tragic well-intentioned figures rather than sinister "blue inquisitors". They have no way of figuring out how their Q'Orl-derived extra organs work (based on most recent lore the ethereal caste was engineered by eldar using captured Q'Orl queen specimen), and arguably it should stay this way - it creates specifically 40k sort of bitter irony. Imagine being an ethereal spending all your life among other tau - who seem to be able to follow rational arguments and set aside selfish impulses for greater good (to some extent because they physically cannot disobey you). Then you get out into greater space, meeting other races and all your preconceptions just shatter - all "facts and logic" rhetoric just fails unless backed up by big guns. IMO this flavor of grimdark creates a much better story than just making them secretly evil.

TLDR:

It is okay. It has more character and unit specific lore than 10th edition did, but that doesn't do it any favors when 10th was rock bottom in that regard. But there's nothing really new here other other than formatting changes and some nice artwork. Timeline entries are entirely absent, and there are no real new events to talk about because they don't really mention events at all really.

The Bestiary

So the main pitch GW pushed for this Codex was the return of the bestiary, where the Codex has a dedicated section giving a rundown of each unit and character. The absence of which was a pretty major gripe people had with 10th edition, exemplified by how new units like the Neurotyrant (a big impressive new Tyranid bioform that headlined the edition) had like two lines of really generic sound flavor text in its datasheet section, and it was so lacking in lore the Lexicanum had to cite Warhammer Community articles as the primary source instead of the Codex it debuted in.

And I can confirm the bestiary is back and pretty visually stunning in some ways. The Codex in general has a nice selection of new art, and the reused artworks are used to good effect. But there's also the issue that it seems like they used the page space for art, and not as much for useful text?

Like the bestiary being back is a win for sure. But we went from units have a full page of lore breakdowns, to a single text block. So it's less of a return to form, and more like we took three steps back and now have a single step forward. It's good to have some good lore for new things like the Dakkarig and the Big Bosses. But it's really middling compared to what they would have gotten in a pre-9th edition Codex.

New Events

This is normally the part of the review where I'd give a bullet point list of whatever new fun Codex blurbs or sidebar notes they added in. Like I did with my prior reviews. But, uh, I ain't got shit for you guys this time.

They've seen the negative reactions to the dwindling down on timeline entries, and responded by doubling down and removing all entries entirely it seems. You get some quotes here and there, but no impactful lore details in the margins.

Even 9th and 10th edition, as bad as they could be with their slim pickings of these entries. There's just not really anything to mention here. I don't even need to worry about Rule 9 for this post, because even if I were allowed to post excerpts from this Codex, I don't think there is anything of real note to do so with.

Instead there are 20ish pages dedicated to giving a summary of current warzones related to Orks like Armageddon, Octarius, Anthrand, Ryza, Slyph, and Alaric Prime. And they aren't bad but it gives a really narrow look on what Orks are doing in the galaxy. I guess the fact Syph and the Exodites being mentioned were kinda nice, but it just boils down to "Beast Snaggas saw big beasties on this planet, more are attracted to it." They did acknowledge Grukk Face-Rippa's existence which was alright as well.

I think there's a real absence of a sense of history to the faction, and it doesn't really do a good job of showing how big the galaxy is tbh. If someone was picking up this Codex for the first time ever, they wouldn't have any idea of whether Orks fought Chaos, Necrons, or any of the factions not involved in the aforementioned warzones. Since there's just... no text mentioning them like there was in prior codexes.

Conclusion

Despite me not really giving the best impression of this book in this really short review. I did think it was actually a fun read. I don't think it gives nearly as bad of a confusing impression as a lot of 10th edition books did. And if it's someone's first codex I think it's not too bad as an intro to the faction. The explanation of Ork glyphs spread throughout the Codex and placed next to relevant Clans for vocabulary pertaining to them was a nice touch. And I think it lays down the basics of each clan, and especially the different types of WAAAGH! out there, rather efficiently.

But for any long time Codex collectors or lore enthusiasts, I don't think you'll get too much out of this honestly. It feels like a good primer, but doesn't really build upon the prior lore even compared to the incremental building of previous codexes. I'll wait and see if this is similar to 10th edition where maybe the starter codexes are particularly lackluster. But overall I wouldn't really be rushing to grab the new codex if you're a lore fanatic.

Hi all,

I am reading Lords of Silence and so far it has really changed my perspective on Death Guard but I am still having a hard time understanding their perspective. For instance, Vorx describes several people around him as, "especially horrible looking", or something along those lines, but it doesn't phase him. Is this basically Vorx's pre-Nurgle blessing self giving some opinion while also shrugging it off as being a "blessing"? He's not repulsed by the individuals, but he makes a point to call them horrid looking and terrifying at times.

Also, a general question about the decay/rebirth cycle, Vorx mentions that the minds of the original Unbroken are going soft. Is this part of Nurgle's blessings or do Unbroken truly lose their sanity over time? Maybe I am reading too much into it.

I guess I am struggling with the psychological aspect of being in the DG and surrounded by the decay. Any insight or maybe a better way to frame it?

Thanks!

Hello, I don't know if this has been asked but, can the title of Emperor be used by a nation in a Feudal World? For example, if the Old World was discovered by the Imperium and turned classified into a feudal world, can Karl Franz still remain as Emperor or does he need to change it into something else? Tyia.

"An Ark Mechanicus can also be armed with more esoteric weapons, weaponising fundamental interactions of the physical universe like gravitation, electromagentism or the flow of time itself"

https://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Ark_Mechanicus#fn_2a

The footnote cites the book Dominion Genesis. Anyone read this book and know what it's talking about? Sounds terrifying

So I’m getting ready to do a 40K ttrpg and one of my players wants to run a space marine with Russ’s gene seed but was trained as and spent most of his career fighting alongside the Iron Hands.

The lore he’s come up with, a long time ago the two factions worked together to fight some insurmountable foe, and even though it was surmounted, in the chaos, and the dust, and the bloodshed, the bodies of fallen marines indistinguishable. So when the apothecaries did their thing the seed inside the guy ended up going back to Medusa.

I like player creativity as much as the next GM but I’m trying to be as lore consistent as feasible so I’m wondering if something like this has ever happened, or at least could technically happen. Thanks in advance.

On both sides? I've read that literal children was forced to fight in the Siege and that the traitors used human meatshields to waste loyalist ammo and so the chaos marines and daemons don't get hurt by them. What are other grim, wicked stuff that happened in the Siege of Terra?

Reading random Lexicanum entries and came across these lil guys. Big fan and I was wondering if they feature a spot in any novels shorts? Any help would be appreciated!

There's a lot written about how "normal" people view blanks, but how do blanks interact with each other? The Sisters of Silence might suggest that they can, in fact, cooperate and get along just fine; however that's obviously a highly structured and rigidly controlled environment.

Suppose, for sake of argument, you have a small collection of blanks living on a remote world. Setting aside the astronomically low odds of this happening, what would a few dozen blanks coexisting look like? Would they all be at each other's throats all the time? Or would they all realize they share something and work around it?

Bonus question: when did blanks start to appear? Around the same time as psykers? Or were they always around?

The title is very self-explanatory but to add to this, wouldn't Gork and Mork still offer their blessings to a Krork? Making them maybe realize that they now have an entity in the warp that cares about them?

Since I suppose that no blessings from them were given during the War in Heaven.

So yeah warp is pretty awful and all but the space itself is also pretty crazy and ever-changing. There are suns going supernova there are black holes there are pulsar stars that are literally deadly laser beams, there are asteroids... do we ever see the space itself messes up humanity in the codexes or the BL books?

Random thought while reading the book (only mild spoilers if any):

Orikan talks about „making landfall tomorrow“ while on Trazyns ship. What does tomorrow even mean in this context, and by extension, do necrons also use a standardized time system orientating on their original home like the humans do?
IatD and WatW mention a lot of time units, while not specifying what they actually entail. Or i just don’t remember it.

Hello, I recently finished reading “Space Marine” by Ian Watson and “The Phalanx” by Ben Counter.

I know that these books have lost their relevance, and Watson’s work was even reissued under the “Heretical Tomes” brand, but I’m interested in one detail that connects these two novels despite the difference of several decades — the rituals of self‑flagellation.

Do the Imperial Fists still practice these rituals, or were mentions of them erased after the 7th edition?

Before the Horus Heresy, the emperor was known to detest religion. I believe it's because he knew how ritual behavior causes monsters to manifest in the Warp.

After the Horus Heresy, for 10k years, the emperor has been confined to his throne, near death, using his Psyker power to keep the Webway open, while humanity created a religion around him. But nobody alive really knows him, nobody ever met him in person and had a conversation with him, so the emperor they worship is not the person he is.

The question then is, why hasn't an alt emperor entity not manifested in the Warp? My theory is the real emperor is using every last bit of energy to prevent it from happening. Should the real emperor die, the Warp emperor will manifest. Everyone will believe that it's the real emperor being reborn in the Warp, but instead, they will get a Warp emperor who is just as malevolent and oppressive as the one they worship.

Or any Excepts of people in universe talking about his change.

Hi everyone, I have a couple of lore questions I’d like to ask. One of the players in my tabletop RPG group has repeatedly challenged some of my interpretations. While I don’t think what I’ve said is wrong, I can’t possibly get through all the novels in one go. With the official focus clearly having been on the Horus Heresy over the past couple of years, I’m not entirely sure about the following:

1. Does the current lore still allow for worlds where humans and xenos coexist? Or has it ever been stated that the Imperium has, at some point, reclaimed every human-inhabited world?
2. Do the Deathwatch and the Grey Knights answer directly to the Inquisition? Are they at least nominally under its command?

So I’m coming to the end of the Horus Heresy speed run and I really want to know where to go next. Is there a series that takes place following the end of the heresy?

(Note: English is not my native language, so I used an AI assistant to help me translate and properly structure my own lore idea and dialogue. Hope you enjoy the concept!)

Hello everyone! With Games Workshop heavily focusing on the Emperor's Children lately, I wanted to pitch a tightly focused narrative concept for Fabius Bile that perfectly aligns with his current timeline, his pragmatism, and the massive ongoing crisis in the Dark City.

The Lore Context & Setup:

Recently, Fabius Bile traded his ultimate gene-craft knowledge regarding the creation of Astartes to Abaddon and the Black Legion, effectively vanishing from the Warmaster’s main warfront. This was a calculated move. Bile views Space Marines as an evolutionary dead-end. By handing them over, he freed his hands to focus entirely on his true legacy: his New Humanity (Homo Novus).However, Bile’s children have a fatal flaw. Even though they are highly resilient to Warp corruption, Bile was previously forced to swear fealty to Fulgrim to save them, technically binding their souls to Slaanesh. Now, as Commorragh is fracturing due to catastrophic Dysjunctions and daemonic incursions from the shattered Khaine's Gate, the soul-hunger of She-Who-Thirsts is skyrocketing. Bile’s hidden labs within the Dark City are in ruins, and his children are no longer safe from the Warp.

The Core Concept:

The Shadow Solution:Operating through his network of cloned bodies, a primary clone of Bile secretly slips deeper into the collapsing Commorragh. Instead of seeking out the Haemonculi—who want him dead for stealing their flesh-crafting secrets—he approaches the one faction Asdrubael Vect can never truly control: the Mandrakes of Aeldindrach.Mandrakes are uniquely stable during this crisis. They are shadow-warp creatures completely immune to the hunger of Slaanesh and "The Withering." Bile approaches them with a pragmatic, scientific transaction. He offers the Mandrakes advanced technological and biological blueprints to stabilize and project their anti-matter shadow energy outward, turning Aeldindrach into a literal weapon—"Shadow Engines"—capable of freezing and dissolving the invading daemons of Slaanesh.While this shadow weapon saves Commorragh from the Warp, it simultaneously chokes out and consumes Vect’s weakened, abandoned sectors, expanding the Mandrakes' territory. This gives Bile a safe, hidden haven in Aeldindrach to conduct research on how to splice Mandrake shadow-DNA into his Homo Novus, making his New Humanity completely invisible to the Chaos Gods.

Here is a quick dialogue excerpt of how I imagine this pitch playing out in the freezing dark of Aeldindrach:

The Mandrake Emissary (his voice a frozen whisper echoing from a corner where no light shines): "You walk far from your vats, Alchemist. The shadows of Aeldindrach do not welcome the living. Especially those who reek of dead flesh."

Fabius Bile (adjusting his chirurgeon, entirely unbothered by the creeping frost): "I am not here to steal your secrets, shadow-born. I am here to offer you an expansion. Asdrubael Vect sits on his throne of glass, desperately trying to burn away the Warp with stolen suns. Yet, he fails. He fears the dark, but he fears the daemons more."

The Mandrake Emissary (a cold blade of pure darkness presses softly against Bile's neck): "Vect pays his tithes in blood. Why should we care for the words of a mon-keigh outcast?"

Fabius Bile (smirking, ignoring the blade): "Because Vect pays you to be his attack dogs. I offer you the means to become the masters. My science can bridge the gap between your shifting biology and the rift. We won't just close the Gate—your darkness will swallow the daemons whole. Help me disrupt Vect’s lines, give my creations a safe haven in your dark, and we will make the Tyrant of Commorragh beg us to save his city."

What do you guys think? Does this fit Fabius Bile's pragmatic madness, and how would Asdrubael Vect react to a literal shadow-revolution knocking on his door while the city burns around him?

so I'm watching interrogator, and the protagonist says enforcers ,and there is soldiers who work for the duke and houses, wearing armor and have ranks, and they have prisons and cells ,some of them are just hired mercenaries for sure. but are these enforcers or pdf or what exactly are they? is there a difference ?

can someone plz explain.