Quotes imperium – warhammer 40k – lexicanum all 4 gas giants names


Should a machine not function upon striking the panel marked "on" this is an omen of great ill. The reasons ascribed may be as follows. Firstly, the function of inadequate preparation on the part of the operator. Secondly, the action of the machine whose spirit may refuse the binding of the operator. Thirdly, the malintent of some third party upon the operator or machine. The operator must repeat the ritual from the beginning re-purifying himself, enscribing the runes, intoning the incantations, and striking the panel marked ‘on’. An accompanying oath may be made. Should this procedure fail, the operator must recourse to consulting the instruction manual.

You gaze at the mountain, Children of Terra, you see its snow-capped peak and the clouds upon its slopes. You dream of reaching that pinnacle and drinking the cold waters. But who dreams of the road that ascends the mountain side? The road to the peak is hard and murderous. It has broken countless Children of Terra upon its rocks. Their splintered bones lie scattered upon it, paving the way to the mountain top. At every step you will hear the bones crumbling under foot, and maybe you shall hear the wind-blown voices of the dead – guiding you forward or leading you to your doom. Yes, my children, the way to the mountain is cruel and unforgiving. And of those who struggle their long lives, spending their energy and vigour in the climb, who then can taste the melt-water of the summit and say, ‘Yes… yes it was worthwhile?’

With the blood of an enemy shall the marks be made upon the missile. Then bless the missile and present unto the mounting. Say the prayer of firing and curse the target. Do this rapidly lest the wrath of the weapon be wasted. Point the eye of the weapon so that it may see the object of its wrath. When the weapon has uttered its curse and eaten the soul of its victim, then shall you take up the next missile…

You pride yourselves on your power, your Imperium of a million worlds. But heed my words, for we have roamed this galaxy much longer than you. You are callow infants. The Tyranids have spent millennia crossing the great expanses between galaxies; the Slann, before they departed, faced Chaos when the Eldar were young; the Necron have defied extinction and are awakening. Savour your victory here; it will be cold comfort when your time comes.

A fortress is a living thing: the commander its brain, the walls its bones, the sensors its eyes and ears, the troops its blood, their weapons its fists. This tells us two things: If one organ fails, the whole dies. And if the whole dies, no single organ can survive alone.

The warp is a vital tool to us, a means of communication and transport. Without it, there would be no Imperium of Man, for there would be no quick bridges between the stars. We use it, and we harness it, but we have no absolute control over it. It is a wild thing that tolerates our presence, but brooks no mastery. There is power in the warp, fundamental power, not good, nor evil, but elemental and anathema to us. It is a tool we use at our own risk.

Earth is the hub of the Imperium. It’s the centre of government, the setting of mankind’s greatest temples, the home of our wealthiest and most powerful merchant houses. And the most corrupt…. where there is government and where there is money, there is corruption. And there is no place in this universe that has more government and more money than Old Earth.

You ask me how, for example, I would deal with a fortress. What can I say? Blast it? Burn it? Gas it? The list is endless. But the military man should never raise such questions. From the moment he enters the Chapter he is taught to deal with practicalities. What is the objective – capture or destroy? What troops do I have – Space Marines or native planet regulars? How are they equipped? What is known of the defenders? And so on.

Attention all vessels, this is Lord Admiral Rath. It is clear to me that we cannot win this fight by utilising conventional weapons of warfare. I order you all to disengage and withdraw. The Dominus Astra shall be the fiery sword of retribution that ends this war. I repeat, disengage and pull away. The Emperor’s blessing be upon you!

The glorious future my ally and I promise you is becoming a reality. Your deliverance from injustice is but a heartbeat away, waiting for you to embrace it. Join us! Take arms against the Emperor’s lapdogs and this world will be ours FOREVER!

The Emperor walks among us. He chooses his vessels to do his work, as he has done so since time began. The rotting carcass maintained in the Golden Throne is not the Emperor, for he travels abroad, tending to his Divine Will, instilling his power into those that have been chosen. But what if the Emperor could be granted a body that does not wither and die, that could be his vessel for all eternity to come? I believe that such a thing is possible, that the Emperor yet waits for his new body to be found or created. In essence, a new Emperor will be created to lead Mankind to its destiny and conquest of the galaxy

Beautiful on the surface, but rotten underneath. Don’t ever, even for a second, doubt that this is the most dangerous world in the galaxy…. Danger does not always come in the shape of orks with bolters, Ragnar. This world is where the elite of the Imperium have gathered. We are talking now of the most ruthless, ambitious, unscrupulous collection of rogues ever culled from a million planets. This is the place they have come to realise their ambitions, and on Terra they can, and will not let anything stand in their way. Not me, not you, not their own kin if need be.

I have seen with mine own eyes many long and terrible wars. I have met brave men and good men whose deaths have weighed heavily upon my soul. On Anathasia I was witness to the Conquests of Zhar and the burning ruins of Ramnion haunt me still. On Badab I watched as the Tyrant’s own fortress fell in dark ruin after so many years of unholy war. Even then I was not glad, for too many had fallen who were needed elsewhere. Too many lives extinguished whilst our enemies grew ever more powerful.

Yet in all my many years I have never seen a sight as terrible as that great battle at the Gates of Athan. That horde of Chaos came on as a sea of blood that stretched from horizon to horizon without end. Over it hung a stink of death, a black cloud of evil which tainted the sky with its obscenity. I cannot think of it still without terror, and must endure a moment’s panic to write even these few words. Even so, the Eldar did not flinch but stood their ground with a determination that exceeded human resolve as the strength of steel outmatches mortal flesh. And that was when I witnessed for the first and only time the strange secret of that race, seeing then what few humans have seen, the thing beyond human comprehension, the great daemon that is the Avatar of the Eldar.

In my high seat I gaze into the immaterium and see the shadow that our own universe casts into depthlessness. This eye… this eye sees gentle flows of soul-stuff where the becalmed mind might starve to death, and tides and churns of genius and hate. The warp mocks the power of words to describe. But what I can never turn my back on is the power and the beauty of the Emperor. I see His soul shine out from Earth and His presence fill every corner of the immaterium. I am scorned for what I talk of seeing, scorned by my family – so be it. Some say that every one of us sees a face of the warp meant only for him, a warp that none other shall ever see, but it makes no matter. I have known from the first time I beheld it that I could do nothing but follow that light with my life.