The impossible space hulk had been the first omen of things to come.
The charred Astartes had fought their way through the labyrinthine interior of the Primogenitor for ages before reaching their destination deep inside its unfathomable structure.
In a vast cave-like space that stretched for miles in all directions vapour and exhaust clouds had gathered around them as they walked the immense bridge, the rushing sound of some dark promethium river bellowing far below them. The wind rose with every step they took until it was a roaring cacophony tearing at the very fabric of their black power armour as if they had walked straight into a raging tempest.
Until they reached the dais.
There, in the eye of the interior storm, everything around them had gone quiet, as if time itself ground to a halt. The only palpable sound had been the faint beating of their ten binary hearts and an almost unbearable low hum coming from the dais itself. The moon-shaped plinth in its centre, clearly crafted to hold a small sphere inside its interior, empty but for a white feather.
The roar of rage that then rose came from the ten charred Astartes on the dais.
It reverberated through the labyrinthine hollows of the Primogenitor, which, like echo-chambers, multiplied it over and over again, until it was as if a thousand black Astartes had brought war to a galaxy already in flames.
The Primogenitor narrative game from 2019 is haunting the halls of Iron Sleet as the narrative game Arks of Omen are brewing in the horizon over at Games Workshop…