The extraction

Pre-sequence

Prospero burned.

It once was the shining beacon of glory and hope, the truest aspiration of the imperium. And now it was a broken world, perished in the inferno of misplaced wrath. The failure of the crimson lord had resulted in the death of his people, the torching of his domain. His image shall be cast down as nothing more than a common bastard; and his legacy will be buried by the sands of time, never to be remembered, only cursed.

The imperium was split asunder, the stars themselves could not hope to outlive the cruel turmoil that raged amidst the dominion of the golden god; his favoured son, now blazing with hate and marred by treachery, along with the dark priesthood of mars had drowned the imperium in war. The galaxy of unity shall be toppled by once its most faithful servant; it seems that fate itself was not without its own sense of irony….

It was a time of great conflict, billions died, thrown into the meat grinder in the name of an uncaring lord; the laughter of the obscene and the twisted flooded the warp. Daemon hordes pulsed with an unholy glee and dined on the souls promised to them by the Warmaster, the storm of empyrean cut into real-space with such malice, as if a jagged blade had pierced the flesh of a new born, and leaving it with a pus filled black scar.

There will be no victor, only survivors. And as the light of reason died, so came the unending night; humanity once against forced into the long war. The hope of progress is lost, for there will be no forgiveness, only war.

But in the shadows, unseen forces move with serpentine nature, tilting the balance of the conflict. Unknown hands attempt to move the armies of both the emperor and Horus alike, each indulging in a chess game of galactic size; our world will die, reborn only to become the slave of a much darker regime, forever tortured by the whimsical wishes of the powers of ruin.

Prospero burned, the future of humanity burned with it; but all is not yet dust….