[HHP-6] Fulgrim: The Palatine Phoenix, Josh Reynolds Опции

[Marid]

А почему глазки не светятся? Почему грудь не бочкой и пуза нет?

Светятся. И также раздобревший в талии)
Ну зато хоть руки не короткие.

[Pictor Jack]

А вот и синопсис подоспел:

Lord of Chemos and bearer of the Palatine Aquila, Fulgrim, primarch of the Emperor’s Children, is determined to take his rightful place in the Great Crusade, whatever the cost. A swordsman without equal, the Phoenician has long studied the art of war and grows impatient to put his skills, and those of his loyal followers, to a true test. Now, accompanied by only seven of his finest warriors, he seeks to bring a rebellious world into compliance, by any means necessary. But Fulgrim soon learns that no victory come without cost, and the greater the triumph, the greater the price one must pay...

[RedFurioso]

Интересно, что у "Ферруса Мануса" до сих пор нет официального анонса, хотя на словах его анонсировали ещё прошлой осенью, задолго до "Фулгрима". Гаймер, кстати, закончил писать книгу в конце января.

[Pictor Jack]

Вроде не было ещё, обложка
(кликабельно)

[Pictor Jack]

Рейнольдс делится некоторыми подробностями будущей книги, если кому интересно:

Anyone who thinks Fulgrim: The Palatine Phoenix is going to be anything like The Magnificent Seven is...going to be really disappointed.
This book is about the disassembly of a semi-functioning aristocracy, without the use of overt force.

И ещё по поводу этих семерых воинов: "Six of the seven have only appeared in this: The Horus Heresy: Book One - Betrayal"

[BrEd Pitt]

Семь самураев)
О, эт че значит, засветится бывший мастер легиона или как его там, которого за кадром убили на Исстване?

ага, вот эти ребята, кандидаты в драматис персонаэ

Флавий Алкенекс - префект, Гвардеец Феникса, обладатель гребня.
Гритан Торн - декан, носитель Ока Хоруса, в будущем будет убит на Исстване-3.
Ратс Луастус - декурион, командир штурмовиков, носитель брони "Крестоносец", терранец, в будущем будет убит на Исстване-3.
Абдель Комендиус - апотекарий, носитель шлема "Фениксиец", кемосианец, в будущем убит на Исстване-3.
Азеал Коненос - зам. Эйдолона, носитель поперечного гребня.
Саранкос - чемпион 9 миллениала, позже дредноут, из штаба Эйдолона, в будущем пропал на Исстване-3.
Абисар - претор, командовавший в Далинитской Туманности.
Абдемон - командор-лейтенант, командовал в бою против катаров, обладатель Меча Просвещения, дара терранских кузнецов, в будущем убит своими капитанами-предателями на Исстване-3.
Иддинам - лорд-командор, ветеран, на момент Покорения Праксила столетнего возраста, дотошный тактик.
Риланор - один из первых Третьего Легиона, с Императором брал Рим и Туле, стал дредноутом после смертельной раны эльдарским оружием, пропал на Исстване-3.
Саул Тарвиц - офицер/ротный капитан, все его знают.
Эйдолон - этого тем паче.

Сообщение отредактировал BrEd Pitt - 13.07.2017, 08:03

[Pictor Jack]

Ха, BL у себя на сайте заменило обложку лимитки, лол))

БЫЛО:



СТАЛО:

[Luminor]

BrEd Pitt, позволю себе небольшую ремарку - если шесть из семи участников отряда самоубийц приведения планеты к Согласию появлялись ТОЛЬКО в HH Betrayal, тогда минус Коненос - сей малопочтенный господинчик уже мелькал в "Пути небес"

Добавлю к списку потенциальных героев лорда-командора Лотреаля Сабина (Lothreal Sabine), фигурировавшего всего-навсего в одной цитате. Учитывая специфику операции, ставлю на участие в ней

"Тык"

Иддинама и Сабина (лорды-командоры), Абдемона и Абисара (командор-лейтенант, герой Катара, и прославленный в ходе войны в Далинитской туманности претор), а также Гритана Торна (префект, один из советников Фулгрима) и Саранкоса (чемпиона, позднее ставшего дредноутом - не исключено, что по итогам событий этой книги)

[Pictor Jack]

Лимитка на подходе, можно рассмотреть поближе, кликабельно

[RedFurioso]

Великолепная семёрка Фулгрима:

• Lord-Commander Abdemon [появляется в HH-Betrayal, стр. 117 в звании Lieutenant Commander]
• Apothecary Fabius
  Легионеры
• Narvo Quin [появляется в HH-Massacre, стр. 53 в звании Veteran-Tesserarius]
• Grythan Thorn [появляется в HH-Betrayal, стр. 111 в звании Decanus]
• Kasperos Telmar [появляется в книге Рейнольдса Fabius Bile: Primogenitor как Radiant King, в прошлом капитан 12-й роты]
• Flavius Alkenex [появляется в HH-Betrayal, стр. 110 в звании Prefector]
• swordsman Cyrius

[BrEd Pitt]

Автор хайпанул немножечко на форжеереси и вставил отсылкоперсонажей для продажи стаффа про Фабия, ндаа

[Дарт Йорикус]

swordsman Cyrius

Это не тот, которого первым на доспех Люция натянули?

[BrEd Pitt]

Кажется, так было в устаревшем каноне, подебил Люция

[Дарт Йорикус]

Кажется, так было в устаревшем каноне, подебил Люция

Каким местом устаревшем? Или не видишь разницу между "первым убил" и "первым оказался натянутым на доспехи"?)

[Luminor]

Эх, из всей Великолепной Семёрки не прогадал всего лишь с двумя, ну да ладно, пойду поем Спасибо, хоть Гритана Торна и в особенности Абдемона оставили, узнать поподробнее об этих воителях очень даже любопытно.

Кстати о лорде-командоре Кирии. В "Кхарне Пожирателе Миров" за авторством Энтони нашего Рейнольдса проскакивает парочка интересных моментов касаемо его (возможной!) судьбы:

– Я должен выйти на связь, – произнес Галерий, продолжая глядеть на далекий флот. Он не моргал, по лицу стекали красные слезы. – Я должен выйти на связь с лордом-командором Кирием. Я его Палатинец. Мое место рядом с ним. О Боги, что внизу – Фениксиец! Бороздит ли еще эфир «Гордость Императора»? Там ли мой лорд-примарх?

И немногим позднее, на переговорах с Тиберием Ангеллусом Антеем:

– Молю, скажите мне, что лорд-командор Кирий еще жив, – произнес Галерий. – Я давал клятвенный обет защищать его.
Улыбка пропала с лица посла.
– Мы с тобой побеседуем, когда ты вновь окажешься в кругу своих.

[Pictor Jack]

Ознакомительный фрагмент, внезапно обнаруженный в книге о Лоргаре

"An extract from Fulgrim: The Palatine Phoenix"

Fire and blood.
It always came down to fire and blood. Or so his brothers, in their wisdom, claimed. Compliance was forged in fire and cooled in blood, they said. Skies of ash and fields of bone. Fire and blood. A monotonous philosophy, lacking in even the crudest artistry.
It frustrated him to no end that such a belief was the guiding star of humanity's great adventure. Even the Emperor seemed to hold to it, though more for efficiency's sake than any other reason. Fire and blood. Efficiency and speed. The watchwords of the Great Crusade.
'Efficiency,' Fulgrim said, making it sound like a prayer. The Phoenician stared out through the glass of the viewport, idly calculating the distances between the stars that glimmered in the black. The observation bay of the Pride of the Emperor was dimly lit and stripped bare of all decoration. Here, there was nothing to distract one from the immensity of the universe, and the grandeur of the stars that populated it.
The primarch of the Emperor's Children was clad only in simple robes of white and purple, a mantle of feathers and gold draped over his deceptively broad shoulders. Armour was for war, or parades. Here, in his place of contemplation, he wore what he considered appropriately subdued attire. It fit loose about his lean form and added to the regal serenity of his appearance. His sole concession to practicality was the blade belted low on his waist. One hand rested on its pommel, and a finger traced the wires wrapped tight about the hilt.
A gift, that blade. A sign of love, forged in respect. He treasured it above all else, save his own certainty. The blade and what it meant were signs that he was on the right path. That he had not turned his back on destiny, but rather embraced it.
He studied the reflections of the amethyst-armoured legionaries of the Third who stood at attention behind him. Clad in thunderbolt and rayed sun, the palatine aquila displayed prominently, they seemed as the demigods of myth made flesh and bound in ceramite. He stood head and shoulders above the tallest of them, a god among demigods, his white hair tied in a single, serpentine braid. Violet eyes, set into pale features that were honed to sharp perfection, narrowed in contemplation.
The six Space Marines arrayed behind him were among the best and the brightest of the current crop. Only one of the six was of the Two Hundred - the original remnants of the Legion who'd knelt before him on Chemos. A seventh, also a member of the Two Hundred, stood somewhat apart and behind the others, watching in silence. He nodded slightly, as if aware of Fulgrim's observation. Fulgrim stifled a snort of amusement.
Five of the six were eager young warriors, freshly blooded and bursting with the need to prove themselves. Much like himself. He pushed the thought aside, annoyed at the sting of truth. He focused on the others, noting their nervousness. To a human, they might seem as statues, barely moving or giving any sign of emotion. But to him, their inner turmoil was plain to see. The five did not know why they had been called into his presence, and it made them nervous. The sixth seemed to feel nothing at all. He smiled, despite this.
'What is the definition of efficiency, Narvo?' he asked, gesturing to one without turning around. A bit of showmanship never hurt.
Legionary Narvo Quin stiffened, obviously surprised to be singled out by his primarch. Victory through minimal effort, my lord.' Quin was a hammer amongst blades. A brawler by nature. But the occasional flash of insight implied potential. A common thread amongst them. Their potential was obvious. And this was all about potential.
Fulgrim turned from his calculations of the stars and their distances, holding the numbers fixed in his head. An acceptable answer, if somewhat pedestrian.' Quin shifted his weight, chagrin evident in his posture. Fulgrim continued. 'In truth, efficiency requires more effort than the minimal. And what is or is not efficient can only be properly determined through context. A lesson I learned as a child, amongst ore processors and mineral scoops'
Without looking, he reached out and tapped the glass with a pale finger. Slowly, carefully, he drew a continuous line between the stars. What Horus considers adequate, for instance, others might call grossly barbaric' For several decades, his dwindled Legion had fought in the shadow of another. Horus had shown him what it meant to be one of the Emperor's sons, with all the duties and responsibilities that entailed. A flash of perfect teeth, as he recalled the frustrations of those days. Then, the efficiency of wolves is a thing unto itself, and not to be judged by the likes of us.'
He turned back to the stars as a polite chuckle rippled through the group. 'However, we can judge our own efficiency, or lack thereof.' The chuckles ceased, as he'd intended. There was a time and a place for humour. He knocked on the glass of the viewport with a bare knuckle. 'My brothers leave behind them a trail of worlds broken to the wheel. Scars of fire and blood, carved across the face of the galaxy. I think -1 know - that there is a better way' Another smile, swift and sure like the slash of a blade. 'A more efficient way. And together, you and I will prove it.
He traced a circle around one particular point of light. This is Twenty-Eight One. Byzas, to its inhabitants, of whom there are several billion. A not inconsiderable number, given what it has endured of late.' He looked at his warriors. 'We will bring Byzas into compliance. But not through fire and blood. Six blades and six blades alone will I carry into this battle. You are those blades.'
Their faces were rife with emotion. Not just pride, but worry and eagerness and calculation. They were young. Blooded but untested. This would be their test, and his as well. A new method of war, perfect in its conception and practice.
'This is the first step on a new journey, the beginning of a new war. One we will win, with our own hands and our own strength. This is the first chapter of our story. All else has been but prologue.' He tapped the mote of Byzas. There is a term in the Augean dialect of the Ionic Plateau - anabasis. The journey an army takes inland from the sea. The march upcountry to new conquests.' He turned, arms spread, like a king of old anointing his knights. This, my sons, is our anabasis.'
As one, they knelt, fists clenched tight against the palatine aquila that marked their armour.
Fulgrim smiled, pleased. 'I have chosen you six to represent the whole of our Legion. You will be my equerries in this matter. Think on what that means, and prepare yourselves accordingly' He turned back to the viewport.
'Go. You are dismissed'
The legionaries departed, talking quietly among themselves. Two more quietly than others. One said nothing at all. When they had gone, Fulgrim said, 'You may speak freely now, Abdemon.'
He turned to face the seventh of those he'd summoned. Clad in Tyrian-laquered battleplate, Lord Commander Abdemon was a walking example of all that the warriors of the Legion should aspire to be. His hand rested on the pommel-stone of the artificer-wrought power sword sheathed at his waist. The delicate looking sabre had been a gift from the armourers of the Ionic Plateau on Terra. Abdemon was reportedly a swordsman of some skill, though Fulgrim had, as yet, not witnessed it for himself. At the moment, it wasn't his ability with a blade that Fulgrim required of him.
The lord commander was one of his senior officers, and a respected voice in his councils. Abdemon was respectful, without succumbing to sycophancy. Of the ten commanders of the first ten millennials of the Legion, he was perhaps the most thoughtful. It was that inclination to consideration that Fulgrim needed now.
'What did you think?' Fulgrim asked.
'Very stirring, my lord,' Abdemon said. His voice was a soft rasp, like steel sliding through silk. 'I felt my heart quicken to hear it.'
Fulgrim quirked an eyebrow. 'Oh? You didn't think it was a bit much?'
'No, my lord. Just the right amount of jingoism.' Abdemon was Terran. He had been among those who made that first, fateful journey to Chemos with the Emperor, and knelt at Fulgrim's feet. He had fought at the forefront of every battle the Third Legion had participated in, including Proxima. He had earned rank and respect in equal measure, and Fulgrim had swiftly deduced that winning him over was the key to winning the Legion.
That he was their gene-father had been no surety of loyalty, or love. Sons turned against fathers every day, on a thousand worlds. And the fracturing of the Legion had weakened the command structure to a concerning degree. They were used to fighting as individuals, or as small groups, rather than a Legion. It had taken long years on his part, and that of his trusted lord commanders, to rebuild their sense of purpose and their discipline.
Fulgrim snorted at Abdemon's words. 'You'd best thank whatever star you were born under that I have a sense of humour, Abdemon. Otherwise, I'd have you punished for such blatant disrespect.'
Abdemon bowed his head. White hair, bound in short, thick braids, was pulled back from his dark face in a tight bundle, giving him a hawk-like aspect. Fulgrim fancied there was something of him in Abdemon's aspect, though the officer would never be handsome. He doubted Abdemon cared.
'My apologies, my lord. I shall endeavour to curtail such foolishness in the future.' Fulgrim heard the smile in the words, though Abdemon's face was as still as the onyx it seemed to have been carved from.
'And now you compound your insolence with bald-faced lies, Fulgrim said. He laid the edge of his hand against the side of Abdemon's neck. Gently, only gently, but in warning all the same. He felt Abdemon's pulse jump, in sudden disquiet. Not fear though, which pleased him. His sons - the true sons of the Emperor - were above fear.
Fulgrim leaned low, so that Abdemon would feel the full effect of his voice. The lord commander's pulse quickened. It was no easy thing for a Space Marine to be in close proximity to their primarch. Abdemon handled it better than most, but even he was affected by it. 'Carefully now, and only in private, or I'll be forced to make an example of you. The chain of command must be seen to be maintained, Abdemon.'
Abdemon didn't meet his gaze. 'As you command.' A Space Marine couldn't be seen to disrespect his primarch, even in jest. Especially important for the Third, as their numbers were as yet still so few, and their morale only just recovered from the depths to which it had plunged in the years before Fulgrim had taken his place at their head.

Сообщение отредактировал Pictor Jack - 25.10.2017, 17:54

[Expert_Bob]

История о том, как он обрел свой легион и привел к согласию свой первый мир ?

[Luminor]

Прелесть-то какая, жду не дождусь появления оного романа на своей книжной полке.

Fire and blood.
It always came down to fire and blood.

Пламя и кровь! Мистер Рейнольдс в романе о Фениксийце, кажется, решил сделать своего рода отсылку к Таргариенам, Фулгрим является обладателем шикарных белых волос, не самого простого характера и мантии из драконьей чешуи (последняя, правда, используется им в "Ангеле Экстерминатус"), ну да ладно.

Очень понравились параллели с книгами Forge World. Легионер Нарво Квин описан как "молот среди клинков", боец решительный и прямолинейный, недаром в будущем ему достанется терминаторский доспех.

В ХХ1 при покорении скопления Кенуит Абдемон носит звание командора-лейтенанта, в романе же он лорд-командор, притом учитывая его терранское происхождение...либо могучий воин поверг чемпиона катаров до воссоединения легиона с Фулгримом, либо чем-то прогневал его и был понижен в звании, а позднее как Imperfection был отправлен на Истваан III.

A gift, that blade. A sign of love, forged in respect.

То ли автор (вслед за Макниллом с его грушей, косметикой и обнимашками-поцелуями Фули с Люцием, Пертурабо и так далее, а также "слухами о странных вещах, которыми занимается Фулгрим со своими воинами" в исполнении райтовского Джагатая) решил в очередной раз подколоть поклонников Третьего намёками определённого характера, или же просто после всего перечисленного даже самые невинные ситуации кажутся пресловутым "вторым дном"...кто знает?)

Непонятен всего один момент. Солнцеликому и его легиону предстоит операция на Двадцать-Восемь Один, и на ум сразу приходят первые главы макнилловского "Фулгрима", в котором легион ведёт кампанию на Лаэране / Двадцать Восемь-Три в скором времени после боёв с ксеносами на болотистом Двадцать-Восемь Два, события разворачиваются уже после Улланора и Ложной Терры, в 002.М31. Вместе с тем экспедиция Магнуса Красного, которая привела к Согласию Агхору и скопление Причал Ковчега в 998-999.М30, носит точно такой же номер, что и флот Фулгрима!

События романа явно разворачиваются в скором времени после десятилетия совместной службы Лунных Волков и Детей Императора, так отчего же в нумерации покорённых миров такой странный разрыв?

Ой да - в оригинальном отрывке опечатка, Horns вместо Хоруса / Гора.

[BrEd Pitt]

Думаю, что разрыв в датах объяснят как "экспедиция немногочисленная, и в вооон том варп-шторме случайно почти все того, этого. Кроме ДИ, ведь они превозмогают"

[Pictor Jack]

На warhammer-community автор немного рассказывает о книге

This book is about airships and fancy dress parties. It’s about rebellious noble houses, poisoned wine, secret societies, politicians, assassins and blackmailers. And in the middle of it all, Fulgrim and a coterie of promising young warriors.