Ten thousand years of battle, and still the war rages on…

For ten-thousand years the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls die every day. For whom blood is drunk and flesh eaten, human blood and human flesh, the stuff of which the Imperium is made.

Forget the power of science and technology, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned.

Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for myth and superstition have replaced knowledge and reason.

And forget the promise of peace, for there is none to be found amongst the cold stars. Only an eternity of carnage and slaughter.

The War for the Emperor's Soul

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