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BTW, according to azzy, DnD Tier 2s might end up getting immeasurable speed.
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Magnus had not been born as mortals were born, but had been willed into life by the designs of the Emperor. As philosophically advanced as his captains were, the concepts were too alien, too beyond mortal comprehension for any of them to understand. To be conscious of your body growing around you, to have awareness of your brain taking shape as architecture instead of organism, and to have discourse with your creator even as your existence moved from conceptual possibility to tangible reality had proved too complex to explain to those who had not experienced such a uniquely hastened evolution. | ||
~ McNeill, Graham. A Thousand Sons (Horus Heresy Book 12) (p. 204). Black Library. Kindle Edition. |
A bright shape descended from the mountaintop, a wavering and indistinct form wreathed in the light of stars and the power of infinite possibility. Brilliant wings of shimmering aetheric fire unfolded from the figure's back, and the Thousand Sons fell to their knees as their father's light spread over them. Magnus landed softly before his sons and they stared in amazement as his light illuminated the bleak darkness of the world. This was no corporeal shell of a subtle body as worn by the primarch when he had walked among them. This was a body of light that could exist beyond the confines of the Great Ocean. Magnus had sacrificed the flesh that had contained his essence, and in so doing had ascended to a more evolved form, one free from the constraints of mortality and the limits of reality. 'My sons,' said Magnus with weary resignation, 'welcome to the Planet of the Sorcerers.' | ||
~ McNeill, Graham. A Thousand Sons (Horus Heresy Book 12) (p. 555). Black Library. Kindle Edition. |
Ahriman flew out of its path, its crimson form twisting around to follow him as another predator emerged from the mists. His mental analogy of sharks had given them form, and its body was sleek and evolved to be the consummate killer. He forced his mind to empty, discarding all metaphor and vocabulary, for they were the weapons his enemies would use against him. | ||
~ McNeill, Graham. A Thousand Sons (Horus Heresy Book 12) (p. 112). Black Library. Kindle Edition. |
'I understand it,' said Magnus, coolly. 'Take off your mask.' The Space Wolf flinched as though slapped, and Ahriman sensed a ferocious build up of power. He gasped as the energy filling him was drained in an instant, siphoned off by a mind infinitely greater than his. With painful deliberation, his limbs shaking with the effort of resistance, Skarssen reached up and unfastened the buckles securing his mask. He pulled it from his face to reveal features that were craggy and worn like a storm-carved cliff. Clean-shaven, with high cheekbones and a brow pierced with jutting canine fangs like a crown, his lower jaw was tattooed to mimic the toothed jawbone of a wolf. Throbbing veins pulsed at Skarssen's temple. 'That's better,' said Magnus. 'I never like to kill a man without first seeing his face.' Magnus seemed to swell, growing in stature, while simultaneously remaining as he had always appeared. The wolves yelped, lowering their heads and backing away from the mighty primarch, and Ahriman saw the beginnings of… not fear exactly, but the wariness of prey. Skarssen had come with one purpose, to bring the Thousand Sons to the Ark Reach Cluster. He had delivered his message in the most unequivocal way possible, but Magnus could not be so easily dominated by the brute force of the Space Wolves. 'Kill me and you will suffer the wrath of the Great Wolf,' hissed Skarssen. 'Be silent!' thundered Magnus, and the world stilled. All sound died as the wind ceased its moaning and salt crystals hung motionless on the hardpan. 'You are nothing to me, Amlodhi Skarssen Skarssensson. I can kill you where you stand, before you or any of your savage brethren could lift a hand to stop me. I can smash your ships to debris with a thought. Know this and choose your next words carefully.' Ahriman saw that Skarssen was not a warrior without courage, his aura instinctively rebelling at the challenge in Magnus's words, but nor was he without the wit to understand that he was a mote in the face of the primarch's power. He looked to his left and right, seeing the world frozen around him, every banner hanging motionless and every observer save the Thousand Sons like statues lining a triumphal roadway. Skarssen lifted his head to expose the corded muscles of his thick neck, and Ahriman recognised the symbolism of the gesture. Magnus nodded and the world snapped back into its natural rhythms. The wind blew once more and the silk banners flapped in the haze of dancing salt crystals. | ||
~ McNeill, Graham. A Thousand Sons (Horus Heresy Book 12) (pp. 107-108). Black Library. Kindle Edition. |
Considered to be a dark reflection of the material universe, the Warp is an ocean of chaotic psychic energy, raw emotion given physical form. Stirred by strong emotion and action. | ||
~ WH40K Wikia |