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With the chance to claim a relic that once belonged to his gene-father Rogal Dorn, the fervour that drives Helbrecht – for good or for ill – may be his most powerful weapon against those who would bar the way. The Beast of Armageddon…’ Guilliman tilted his head as he considered the words. For a being such as him even a minor gesture was loaded with potency and meaning. ‘You mean to pursue this course?’
Grimaldus asks Helbrecht if he still wants to pursue Ghazghkull. Helbrecht shrugs and says being the Emperor's knight is reward enough. Deep under the keep, Helbrecht encounters an auramite safe which samples his blood before opening for him to retrieve the Shard (a piece of Pauldron). Warsmith Vakra in Cataphractii armor shows up with his bodyguards, and Helbrecht keeps him monologuing long enough for a bomb he placed above them to trigger, burrying all the bodyguards in rubble. Helbrecht defeats Vakra before being burried in rubble....and crawls out a little while later Grimaldus style. It was no easy thing to bear the weight of a demigod’s displeasure. Helbrecht could feel the scrutiny upon his skin like ball lightning. He leant into the discomfort of it. He braced himself with the judgement of the divine. It’s skaven week on Warhammer+ , yes-yes! Battle Report sees the verminkin take on the Lady of Vines, as the stars of the Echoes of Doom boxed set clash in a 2,000-point Matched Play game. The new Battletome: Sylvaneth and Battletome: Skaven are in action for this tussle, as are new units such as the Gossamid Archers and Spiterider Lancers – who’ll come out on top? It was forged from the shards of my brother’s own blade. When he found our father’s broken body, when he saw what Horus had done to Him, he knew despair. He knew what it meant to fail the very reason for your existence. Everything in him understood the stakes which we had faced, and the price of defeat.’ He shook his head. ‘And there was defeat, even in victory. My brother, Rogal Dorn, a man of stone, broke his sword over his knee. He felt unworthy of wielding his weapon, knowing it had never had the chance to be raised in defence of our father – not when it truly mattered.’We’ll also have more news on the Citadel Colour paints, and you can join us to Hang Out and Hobby as we build-up to the big Paintathon . My lord?’ asked a wavering voice. Centule stood there, wide-eyed and staring. Helbrecht stood reluctantly and stalked forward. For a moment the serf almost flinched from his lord’s path, so wrathful had it become – like a wounded storm. There are many amongst the Ecclesiarchy,’ Guilliman said, and Helbrecht could see the ripple of bemused frustration play across his features, ‘who would insist that I am the very instrument of His will. If not in the manner of my perceived divinity then certainly in my capacity as Imperial Regent.’ Helbrecht did not speak for many minutes. He drew his blade again and went down upon his knees, the tip of it pressed to the stone of the floor. His lips moved in constant prayer and his hands tightened about the hilt. Helbrecht slammed his bionic fist against the chamber’s desk. Primarch or no, none questioned his honour without reproach. ‘I would choose duty and honour. My warriors gather – numbers enough for our task but far from enough to minister to every world that cries for succour. The defenders of such worlds bear their own aegis of faith. Sisters of Battle, Militarum regiments, other Chapters who are closer. The Emperor has set this task before me – as His servant, should I not do His will?’
Far from the T’au Empire, Commander Farsight continues his crusade against the greenskins. However on the daemon-haunted world of Arthas Moloch, he learns some truths that shake him to his core. Farsight: Empire of Lies will be now available as an audiobook. A fine soldier. A great leader of men. Yet despite all that, he was guided, at times, by his own will and wants. He erred in that, perhaps.’ To gaze upon the primarch was truly a thing of wonder. He was not a numinous thing of light and fire but neither was he stolidly material. He was a storm of cold blue and gold, bound into the shape of a man. It almost hurt to look at him. It was not simply the superlative craft of his armour, but the skill worked into his very flesh. This was a being who had been sculpted by the Emperor’s own hand. The primarch had fought and bled with the Master of Mankind Himself; upholding His truth, enforcing His laws, and shaping what the Imperium had become down the long marches of darkness. He was a fragment of the very soul of the human species, carved out and presented as an exemplar. You speak with wisdom, yet the opening of the Rift is opportunity for the Beast to escape. Even now it flees from our justice, to burrow into whichever crevice will hide it. It will spawn in the darkness until its hordes come again. And again. And again. No more. We have its scent and we will fight to burn it from the galaxy.’
He received the primarch in his sanctum, the Galleria Astra, still rimed with the detritus of war. He had turned the arming servitors, serfs and Neophytes – all eager to attend upon him and see to his armour – away, preferring to meet the primarch as a commander fresh from war. By will alone he stilled the tremble in his flesh and allowed himself to exhale. This was a singular moment. One he had yearned for and dreaded in equal measure. To see a fragment of the exalted past walk the stars anew; beholding a son of the God-Emperor Himself as he strode the galaxy. The bringer of wrath and flame. The fury of the heavens kindled.
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