Transacta-7Y1 made a fist, a symbol they’d agreed on at the beginning of their companionship. They both tensed, making ready to move. Surprise was on their side. Nothing else was, but they took what they could get. But Envaric had one more thing to say.
‘Tee. Tell me something before we die, yeah?’
She turned to regard him, gazing at his deteriorating form through her monovisor. She said nothing, but he had her attention. The look in his eyes was what she suspected to be amusement. This was it, then. One last joke.
‘Are you pretty under all that?’
It took her a moment to process this. She’d never been asked such a thing. Beneath her armour, she was an irradiated foot soldier of the Machine-God. Her skin, deep brown at birth and not unlike Envaric’s in that regard, was a starved and sunless grey. She’d been ritually delimbed, her extremities replaced with arms and legs of inexpensive cybernetic purity. Much to her honour, she had attained such a state of grace within her mechamorphosis that more of her body was now comprised of holy iron than what remained of her flawed birthflesh. Under her helmet, she was pockmarked with cryo-controlled radiation tumours. She possessed no eyelids, no hair, no teeth, and no nose – and what hadn’t been surgically removed had rotted off over the course of her years of sacred service.
In short, she was skitarii.
Transacta-7Y1 keyed in a symbol and tossed him the dataslug again. He caught it with weakening fingers and read the symbol there.
[affirmative]
He gave a bloodstained smile. ‘Yeah, I thought so.’
Though neither of them knew it for certain, they were the last of their combined platoons. When they attacked a few moments later, killing two of the Emperor’s Children from ambush, it was the final act of resistance in the defence of the Principa Collegiate.
excerpt from Echoes of Eternity by Aaron Dembski-Bowden, chapter 9
From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. I craved the strength and certainty of steel. I aspired to the purity of the Blessed Machine. Your kind cling to your flesh, as though it will not decay and fail you. One day the crude biomass you call the temple will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you. But I am already saved, for the Machine is immortal.
Leader of the Imperium of Man (basically the 40k Federation) is the "Emprah"
The most superior tactic for engaging foes is a maneuver that the Codex Astartes (like the Art of War for 40k) names "Stiehl Rehn"
No other factions besides the Spess Mahreens matter and you should never buy them.
The best thing to do is to be "The Emprah's Fureh" and smite all his foes otherwise you'll die in shame having "Fehled the Emprah"
Oh yeah, and machines have souls and they do much better when you praise and worship them and anoint them with holy oils, so make sure to do that if you ever get isekai'd into the 40k universe for the like 45 seconds you'll probably be able to stay alive for.
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