Fan art of primarchs Magnus the Red and Perturabo. / Magnus The Red :: Perturabo :: Primarchs :: Relithel :: Warhammer 40000 (wh40k, warhammer 40k, ваха, сорокотысячник) :: Ivana :: фэндомы
Это после того как рыжик спас падающую баржу с помощью пси сил, в которой был дохулиард людей, там еще пару его лучших псайкеров от перегруза рипнулись
И той книге Пертурабо был описан идеально, мне прям захотелось прочитать ещё что-то про Железных Воинов. В книге про себя он описан гараздо хуже, что странно.
В Повелителе Просперо была похожая сценка, но только с Форриксом и Ариманом.
Ариман болтается в астрале сбивая вражеские истребители, а Форрикс в это время бегает с бездыханным телом Аримана отстреливаясь от культистов Шайтана.
For context - excerpt from the book Magnus the Red: Master of Prospero by Graham McNeill
(spoilers alert!):
Twenty-four of his warriors lay dead around him, their bodies little more than empty suits of armour filled with the ashen remains of their flesh. Fine grey dust poured from their sundered plate and molten flex-joints. Only Ahriman and Phosis T’kar had survived the psychic storm.
‘They are all dust’ said Magnus. ‘Every one of them.’
A great and terrible guilt swept through Magnus as the hammering sounded again, louder this time, more insistent.
‘What have I done?’ he said as the last of his strength drained from his body and light flooded the cavern beneath the Lux Ferem. Magnus saw movement in the light, a vast being of burnished steel and fury, a titan in iron and yellow and black. He knew him, but could not name him.
He fell, but did not hit the ground.
‘I have you, brother’ said Perturabo 'No harm shall come to you nor your magnificent hair.'
(...)
[Magnus] ‘How did I get here?’
‘The Lord of Iron carried you,’ said Phosis T’kar. ‘He would not permit us to bear you.
- Опять всю грязную работу послали делать меня! - вытирая сопли одноглазому.
Как-то так, наверное.
Это после того как рыжик спас падающую баржу с помощью пси сил, в которой был дохулиард людей, там еще пару его лучших псайкеров от перегруза рипнулись
Ариман болтается в астрале сбивая вражеские истребители, а Форрикс в это время бегает с бездыханным телом Аримана отстреливаясь от культистов Шайтана.
(spoilers alert!):
Twenty-four of his warriors lay dead around him, their bodies little more than empty suits of armour filled with the ashen remains of their flesh. Fine grey dust poured from their sundered plate and molten flex-joints. Only Ahriman and Phosis T’kar had survived the psychic storm.
‘They are all dust’ said Magnus. ‘Every one of them.’
A great and terrible guilt swept through Magnus as the hammering sounded again, louder this time, more insistent.
‘What have I done?’ he said as the last of his strength drained from his body and light flooded the cavern beneath the Lux Ferem. Magnus saw movement in the light, a vast being of burnished steel and fury, a titan in iron and yellow and black. He knew him, but could not name him.
He fell, but did not hit the ground.
‘I have you, brother’ said Perturabo 'No harm shall come to you nor your magnificent hair.'
(...)
[Magnus] ‘How did I get here?’
‘The Lord of Iron carried you,’ said Phosis T’kar. ‘He would not permit us to bear you.