"On a ship better known for its unasked questions, the Dreadwing sacristy was renowned as a repository for the deadliest arcana to have survived Old Earth's Age of Strife unused. Within its multiply secured and ident-locked vaults could be found man-portable atomics, gene-targeted bio-weaponry, unstable plasma devices, singularity drivers, psionic phages - weapons that were so powerful, so cataclysmic in their intent, that the Emperor had deemed them too dangerous for the bulk of His forces to be allowed even to know of their existence. To His First legion alone had He entrusted the secrets of such relic weaponry. With the arsenal that He had entrusted to their keeping, the Dark Angels had at their disposal the firepower to usher in a new Old Night should they, or He, so deSire it.
Who else but the First could have been entrusted with such a responsibility? Who else but the First could be relied upon to inflict that most final of sanctions if so commanded?
The Wolf King boasted to all that he was his father's executioner. He was a deterrent, a hound to snarl from behind a sealed gate, never to be unleashed. What the Lion was to his father did not speak its name so brazenly. For where Russ was a warning, the Lion was a solution. The final solution. He was the Emperor’s exterminator. What the honour of Russ would not abide he would sanction without hesitation. The enemy who might yet be integrated, the adversary whose misguided but noble resistance might be canonised in posterity, these were wars for his brothers to wage. When the First Legion turned their guns upon a foe it was to annihilate without trace, to obliterate beyond all hope of record.
That was the purpose for which the Dark Angels were created and it was the reason that He made them first.
Even the Mechanicum did not know what terrible secrets had been locked away by the Dreadwing in chambers such as these. If the machine-priests of Mars should ever seek to turn against the Emperor's goals of galactic unity, then it would be the weapons of the Dark Angels that would bring them low."
- Lion El'Jonson: Lord of the First

УУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУУХ БЛЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯ.

"The Codicier raised his hand to hover over the imprisoned weaponry. Not since the darkest hours of Old Night had mankind's mastery of the killing sciences been explored in such intimate minutiae There was no consistency of design or uniformity of function. Nothing in this vault had ever been, or would ever be, immortalised in the sequences of a Standard Template Construct. Every grip, sleeve and neural shunt that his fingers brushed belonged to an artefact that was unique in this galaxy. Each was a singular terror, born from the infinite creativity of humanity's apogee and never to be repeated since. Neural whips, lonophoric eradicators. Personality phages. Gemynd blasters. Glass-walled grenades that carried torpid, warp-borne mindworms inside. These were weapons that attacked the mind and, whether one believed in such notions or not, the soul. Built at the pinnacle of mankind's supremacy over the laws of physics, many had been constructed to eradicate not only their victim's physical body but its reflection in the empyrean as well, weapons of such unholy potency that not even the memory of the slain could remain intact.
The relic Aravain finally settled upon was a monstrous ancestor of the bolter family, massive-barrelled, fed by a multitude of plastek hoses that Redloss silently proceeded to clamp into Aravain's armour's power plant. Superficially it resembled a heavy bolter, albeit heavier, built to be wielded by Men of Iron or some other breed of upgraded soldier in the millennia before mankind had raised its transhuman Legions. The stamp it bore was recognisably Terran, though of no lore that still existed today. It was only as Redloss clamped an ammunition hopper to Aravain's girdle plate and started manually feeding the belt to the magazine that its more fundamental differences became apparent. The high-calibre shells emitted a glow that burned Aravain's psychic sight, even as he closed his eyes and turned his face away.
'Yes,' Aravain said, feeding his gauntlet reverently through the grip loop on the cannon's upper barrel and feeling its weight. His harness suspensors whirred as they spread the immense load across his power-armoured frame. 'This will put the fear of the First into them.'"
- Lion El'Jonson: Lord of the First
БЛЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯЯ

"The Lion was the master of all his domains.
'You have dived willingly into a primarch's mind, and for that hubris alone you deserve this failure.'
He squeezed tighter. The hands about her throat were metaphorical, the assault mental, the psychological equivalent of covering a candle with a jar, only this flame fed off the energies of the ether rather than air.
The shadows ran from the walls like wet paint. Stars ignited in the firmament of the imagination and wheeled, spinning around a supermassive black hole that gave a once-in-a-million-year pulse of light and matter with every hike of the woman's throat.
Through a web of psychic connectivity he felt the squirming of lights that were not stare. A nebula. By the Lion’s will, the perspective shifted, drawing closer to the cloud, the individual specks of dust resolving themselves as ships. The baroque, castellated lengths of Imperial warships slid through the void alongside the bloated scrap-plated bulk of ork kroozers and the infinitely varied craft of void-fairing xenos scattered amongst them. Most were incalculably ancient, belonging to races never encountered by humankind beyond a scrap of writing on a tablet or some unidentified debris in orbit around a broken world. Some were elegant, all crystal spindles and delicate pods, like palaces set adrift in the void. Others ploughed through the cold of space like true ships of war, their purpose relatable even if the mind behind them had not been. Their vessels were spined and barbed, hooked and armoured like void Crustacea, glittering with force shields and encrusted with weaponry. Within every one the foul souls of the khrave glowered. But the light there was dim. The Lion went further, the psychic trail leading him to the slender black ships, vividly haloed with alien power, that moved through the silent void like spiders stalking their nomadic prey.
The web of control widened further still.
The Lion followed it.
The mass of shipping became an asteroid field, then a debris cloud, a ring of orbital wreckage around a dead and broken world that itself turned slowly around a faded giant.
'Your home world in the Northern Fringe,’ said the Lion.
Savine said nothing. Closed off from the warp by the walls of the lion's mind, she could not speak, but her spirit was bidden to respond.
+Yes.+
The Lion drank in every detail, memorising every star cluster and visual anomaly. Even as he did so he felt the pull of a more massive mind, the star waned, shedding its photosphere into space. The world that listed around it crumbled, rock and plasma dragged inexorably into the yawning iris of the galaxy's core, the Milky Way's flame-wreathed eye holding Lion El'Jonson transfixed as he hung above the event horizon of oblivion.
+The khrave autochthonar+ Savine's struggles were lessening, but even under the reality-ending ferocity of that infernal gaze she was helpless to resist the Lion's probing. +The First. The Ender of Worlds.+"
- Lion El'Jonson: Lord of the First

Ну-ка, думаю, он пойдет к ним в гости.

"A throne of shadow hovered, unsupported, above the chamber's medial point.
The Lion was a singular being, accustomed to the potency of singular beings. What he sensed from the creature installed upon that throne was not the golden luminosity of the Emperor, nor even the thinly veiled aura of the Crimson King. It was a subcutaneous bleed of warp energy, a bruise under the skin of the materium. It was an abomination that had risen to kingship over abominations.
Holstering the Fusil Actinaeus, he took the Lion Sword in a two-handed grip.
The lord of the khrave.
The autochthonar.
The xenos lord was cracked and skeletal, mummified by incalculable age and incredible power. Force enough to flay the souls of ten thousand men crackled unspent across withered carapace. Its enlarged cranium was fringed with backswept horns. A crown of trigonometric shapes and unknowable glyphs sat a centimetre above its sunken brow on a crackling cushion of psychic repulsion. Its face was eyeless, featureless, like metal smoothed by acid, and yet the impression it forced on the eyes of the beholder was of colossal, devastating awareness.
Here, it said, is a feeing that has outlived younger galaxies, and the power of its proclamation overrode even the lion's resolve.
The primarch staggered as the khrave tore into his mind, plundering it of every secret and probing at every point of weakness, inflaming every remembered insult and half-feigned rivalry' into a self-aggravated ulcer in his soul. T his was an entity that predated even the star-empires of old, spawned by evil, a living weapon for the spread of anguish and terror amongst the sentient races. It had learned to reproduce, outlived its long-forgotten creators, and thrived in a galaxy ripe with chaos and strife.
The apogee of humanity's evolution was, it promised, but a footnote in the long gestation of its existence.
The Lion gritted his teeth, tightening his grip on his sword. The autochthonar's mummified husk emitted an arachnoid click as, with strength of will, the Lion slowly forced its tendrils back into its own mind.
Strike off the head and the body would perish. What was true of all creatures was true doubly of the khrave. They were inextricably connected, independent thinking entities but with minds fused into a hierarchy that answered to one being alone.
The autochthonar lifted its shrivelled body from the throne as though drawn upwards by the magnetic attraction of an electrical cloud.
'To the Lion!' bawled Herodael.
A violent shockwave pulsed from the autochthonar's mind. It struck the Lion with the force of a thunder hammer between the eyes. The Lion reeled back The aftershocks were still firing through his skull as Holguin and the Deathwing, breaching the command chamber in his wake, were tossed aside like saplings before an atomic blast.
The chamber's dimensions contracted to a sword's point as the mind of one accustomed to conducting its thoughts across thousands of light years and through billions of minds focused its intellect solely and squarely upon the Lion. The autochthonar descended through a halo of sparking warp energies. Clawed feet touched the ground. Drawing one age-stiffened limb across its body, it summoned a blade of shivered realspace as, silently as stalking insects, ten, fifteen, then twenty-five warrior khrave leapt through the curtain of ether and into the attack."
- Lion El'Jonson: Lord of the First

"Stenius strode into the central nexus. The knight of the Ironwing had been outfitted with a psychically baffled helmet of the Santales order, and was flanked by a pair of towering six-limbed cyber automata. Adamantium-clad behemoths of inhuman aspect and devilish asymmetry, the things advanced ahead of the legionary as though directly from the techno-horrified imaginings of Old Night. No blundering automata were these, no cybermantically preserved cadavers spared the final kiss of death. They were Excindios, the last of the dreaded Silica Animus, the bastard offspring of the Men of Iron. Tortured, neutered, once-limitless intellects, they were now chained to a single armoured core and the service of the Emperor of Mankind. Legends of such terrors lived on in the species memory of Old Night and the wars of Unification. The continued existence of such artificial terrors, even in their current mutilated capacity, was a secret kept even from the primarchs and the adepts of Mars, one known only to the Emperor, the Lion and the most exalted ranks of the First Legion's Ironwing.
The Lion sensed the ripples in the ether as the khrave autochthonar unfurled its mind towards them, only to have its thoughts rebuffed by logic processes of copper, silicon and steel.
'You cannot fight what you cannot see,' said the Lion, launching himself at the wizened xenos as the two Excindio automata deployed their weapons.
With the rage of tyrants brought low, of once-infinite beings who had been gagged and blinded and bound in chains, and who had been let slip for this one moment with the tools of murder in their metal hands, they opened fire. Irad cleansers and subatomic pulses whickered through the stunned khrave. Graviton flux projectors shook the resonant plastek of the nexus to its core structure. And, when the destructive energies of even that proscribed arsenal proved insufficient to the slaking of their haired, the behemoths waded in with adamaniium-toothed Evisceratons and stamping feet. Left to their own devices, the shackled AIs would not have limited themselves to the khrave. It was only Stenius' measured guidance, and the finger he held over their artificia kill switch that kept them from rampaging right through the Deathwing and into the Lion.
+Abominations. +
The thought was not one deliberately sent, but a mind as powerful and permeating as the autochthonar's could not keep its cognition wholly to itself.
A pulse of aggression smashed the Lion into the tangle of ribbed vaults and he rebounded to the floor with a clatter of heavy armour, just as warrior khrave began projecting psy-shields to repel the Excindios' rampage.
But the artificia had already presented enough of a distraction.
'Whatever the foe,' said the Lion, raising his sword. 'Whatever its virtue and its strength. The First Legion alone harbours the means to address and vanquish it. That is our purpose. That is our strength.'
The autochthonar's age-withered form seemed to thicken and expand, the rampant energies of its halo hardening into an energy field that flickered with the shearing sound of phantasmal blades, orbiting at the speed of thought. It extended its sword, two metres long, a two-dimensional anomaly speckled with the light of dead stars.
The blade fizzed as the paradoxical force of its unreality touched the energised field of the Lion Sword."
- Lion El'Jonson: Lord of the First

>>24405
Факты о Эль'Джонсоне и Первом Легионе.
1) Лев больше остальных братьев похож на отца — во всех смыслах.

2) Император несколько раз встречался со Львом и вел с ним личные беседы в течение всего ВКП.

3) Железное Крыло позволяет ТА обходиться без кучи техножрецов.

4) О настоящих потерях после третьего ксеноцида знал лишь примарх.

5) Силовой доспех Льва личный подарок от Императора, а его пистолет настолько древний, что успел поубивать Железных Людей.

6) Помимо стандартного обозначения а-ля «сержант отделения такой-то роты такого-то ордена» у легионеров присутствуют знаки неизвестного значения, отражающие их положение внутри более секретных орденов Легиона в Гексаграматоне. Можно быть линейным сержантом в обычной структуре, но при это быть верховным магистром ордена.

7) Когда женщина-летописец попала на флагман ТА она офигевает – там почти никто не разговаривал, никто не задавал разговоров, если легионеры общались друг с другом то разговаривали шифром, их речь была полна метафор и литературных аллюзий, которые она не могла разгадать потому что нет доступа к этим литераторным источникам в либрариуме.

8) На флагмане ТА — боевой барже типа «Глориана» — экипаж в миллион человек.

9) "Гораздо более умелые риторики нежели Марсипан пытались перечить Льву, но пожалели об этом. Высшие Лорды и примархи проглатывали свои претензии прежде, чем выразить их Повелителю Первого. Даже Магнус Красный, который никогда не уступал в подобных случаях, предпочел не оспаривать уничтожение мирной империи ксеносов и их сокровищ, когда столкнулся с непоколебимой волей Льва. " Как говорили многие, это было словно говорить с Самим Императором.

10) Легионеры для Львы сыновья, а не маленькие братья.

11) Лев разрубает пули мечом в воздухе.

12) "На корабле, где не задавали вопросов, ризницу Крыла Ужаса знали как хранилище самых смертоносных тайн, что пережили Эпоху Раздора Старой Земли неиспользованными. Внутри множества охраняемых и опечатанных хранилищ можно было найти портативное переносное атомное оружие, воздействующее на гены, био-оружие, нестабильные плазменные устройства, приводы сингулярности, псионические бактериофаги – оружие столь мощное и разрушительное, что Император посчитал слишком опасным, чтобы большая часть Его сил даже смутно подозревала о его существовании. Секреты этого реликтового оружия доверили лишь Его Первому Легиону. С таким оружием в своем распоряжении, Темные Ангелы могли развязать новую Старую Ночь, пожелай Он это."

13) "Нейронные плети, ионофорные уничтожители, воздействующие на личность бактериальные вирусы, геминдовые бластеры (мыслящее оружие), гранаты со стеклянной оболочкой, внутри которых содержались спящие, порожденные варпом мозговые черви. Все это оружие атаковало разум и душу, неважно, верил кто в существование оной или нет, жертва не только умирала, исчезало полностью ее отражение в варпе, не оставалось ни памяти ни информации, как будто никогда и не существовала.

14) Как и было в спойлерах, крав проникает в разум Льва, но быстро понимает что что то пошло не так, и примарх сам забирается в его разум и забирает оттуда всю нужную инфу. Вот почему Лев проигнорировал поход на Улланор, он решил окончательно уничтожить кравов, которые, оказывается, досаждали человечеству еще во времена Золотой Эпохи Экспансии. Кравы — это ксеносы-паразиты, захватывающие разум жертвы, могут в псионику, обращают миллионы людей в свои марионетки

15) Вообще, исходя из написанного, получается что Улланор — это по сути пустышка, орочью империю разгромили крутую, но весь этот триумф и помпа лишь для показухи, на самом деле это лишь очередная победа. Император сделал это потому, что некоторым требуется признание, они не могут признать наступление новой эры без некоего события, которое бы ознаменовало смену эпох.

16) Между главами описываются встречи между Львом и Императором, их разговоры, после очередной встречи Лев сомневается в том, что он оставит после себя, какое наследие, мол кто-то из примархов вдохновляет, а кто-то типа Жиллимана строит Империум в миниатюре, на что Император рассказывает притчу о Хатшепсут, после правления которой пытались стереть все следы ее истории, но Лев замечает, тем не менее о ее правлении до сих пор известно, на что Император говорит, что у них не было своих Темных Ангелов.

17) В общем тут описывают роль Льва как примарха, для чего он создан – истребитель цивилизаций, дабы от них не осталось ничего, обратить в пепел все, что мешает строительству Империума

18) К слову о серьезности погремух в закромах Крыла Ужаса. Те саркофаги и контейнеры, в которых они лежат, способны выдержать воздействие оружия класса «экстерминатус» и останутся целы даже при уничтожении самого корабля…