(No arguments or pointless fights. Newcomers can ask as many questions as they like, as long as they aren't tired old jokes. The veterans can show off their knowledge and act like experts to their hearts' content.
The group atmosphere is quite harmonious. Feel free to steam the group owner, pester me for updates, or happily join the forces of Slaanesh.)
The blade of slaughter is the most universal language.
Steel warships are the warmest embrace.
Compassion is nothing but a fantasy of the weak.
Atrocity is nothing but the privilege of the strong.
At the farthest reaches of the 30th millennium, all things began in darkness.
At the farthest reaches of the 40th millennium, all things return to darkness.
Amid endless laughter, only the Most High Lord of Humanity offers the coldest protection.
Follow his blade, sing of his banner.
To follow him on his crusade to the edge of the galaxy is the only true path.
Countless worlds burst forth in his mind, countless possibilities danced upon his fingertips.
He clenched his palm, and there it was: a brand-new path.
The twenty-second option, the ten-thousand-and-first impossibility.
Amid holy blood and skulls,
the Empire's budding flower was born.
