Goblin Techies

Учитывая популярность Темных Ангелов, количество фанатов Ордена и легиона, должны сделать очешуенную книгу или книги. Хотя если Торп продолжит, то Сайфером окажется какой-нибудь Альфарий) Простите за офф-топ.

Макнилл наоборот не меняется, а если и меняется, то становится схожим с адб) [ Добавлено спустя 7 минут 37 секунд ] Рассуждать может любой, но вот считать эти рассуждения важными личное право. Хотя ИМХО, если судишь о подобной серии, где как-никак 20 книг плюс профессиональный фанфик (привет Каймовскому Солнцу Прометея), надо стараться читать все. Особенно Фулгрима, который из некогда простого сюжета первых четырех книг не выбивался. Это потом можно забивать на порождения варпа, типа Изгоя или Битвы за хрен-пойми-что. [ Добавлено спустя 13 минуты 9 секунд ] Начал читать в оригинале новеллу про Альфу, хотя планировали вместо нее про Конрада Керза, но ее ждемс) Лев, это да, сюжет сумбурный. Выпилили Немиила, жаль, ничего лоялист был. Перевод по исполнению был не айс, но громадная проделанная работа переводчика и скорость - похвальны. После корректировки станет все отличным) Про Ферруса скучновато как-то. Макнилл разочаровывает с каждой книгой. После Железного Шторма ожидал у него отличных сюжетов, а тут паравозы и косплей с отличного Железо внутри... Рукалицо.жпг прилагается

Ну да, Гидра доминирует) По новому бэку и Несущие Слово с Сор Талгроном, и Десятая рота Малхариона были на Терре) Впереди еще овер 9000 книжек)

Форрикс чем велик? Тем, что с титаном желал померяться силами? Кажется, в последней главе Шторма говорится чем дуэль закончилась. Хоть он и первый капитан великой роты, но великих кампаний его не знаю. Осада Терры? Да там народу много было, вон Талос и Аргел Тал...

Потому что есть два типа людей, читающих книги по вахе - которым они нравятся, не нравятся - и ЕГО особое мнение на языке лурка. У Моник оно веселое, у кого-то суровое, кому-то пафос подавай, а некоторые вообще видят лишь то, что в трилогии про саламандр написано.

Согласен) --- Посмотрел на днях карточки из игры Ересь Гора... Там столько персонажей и так мало их описали в книгах. Одовокар, знамянесун у Детях Императора. Выхватил люлей в книге Галактика в огне. Уделили пару строчек. Грульгор склеил силовые ласты, капитана какой-то роты Гвардии Смерти позабыли. Есть пара неплохих представителей армии, но на иа в хх положили немного...

чем дальше, тем злее партизаны... Чем больше книг Макнилла... Без комментариев. После неплохих Механикума и Тысячи Сыновей, выпустить непонятно когда происходящий Ауткаст Дэд...

Надеюсь, что сделают все-таки дилогию Битва за Калт, а напишет продолжение про Подземную войну АД-Б. Хотя мне кажется, что я повторяю чью-то мысль

многие хотят ее увидеть. Возвышение Гора, как и две другие первые книги, охватывают огромный период времени, об этом уже много раз говорили. Тогда мб Абнетт полагал, что скоро закончим... А тут ауткаст дед и прочие прочие прочие жажды денег

С одной стороны, в Легионе четко говорится о воскрешениях Грамматикуса из-за его ценности. Его самоубийство могли просто наблюдать, а затем взять воскресить. Хотя... в конце он идет и надеется, что эта смерть будет последней... А вообще разобраться во всем этом сложно) Бабнет в Сожжение засунул любимый суперязык энунцию; Джона воскресил в виде Оби Вана и единения с силой в Не ведая страха. Что великий и ужасный хочет, то и будет

Джон Френч очень неплох. Мы едины и Последний летописец/засвидетель/ремембрансер читались отлично

у нас теперь три разновидности волков: рагнар-сверхчеловек-дуболом; гомовикинги-палачи-хитрые астартес из сожжения просперо; пафосные волки адб? Жду мнения лорда Анфария о сабже.

О_о Еще один Аврелиан? ! Предупреждение: праздник праздником, а оверквотинг - зло

Андерс Микельс Ересь Гора БРАТСТВО Эра просвещения окончена... Это эпоха легенд. Галактика в огне. Грандиозные замыслы Императора о будущем человечества рухнули. Его возлюбленный сын Гор отвернулся от отцовского света и обратился в Хаос. Армии могучих и грозных космических десантников Императора схлестнулись в безжалостной гражданской войне. Некогда эти непобедимые воины как братья сражались плечом к плечу во имя защиты галактики и приведения человечества к свету Императора. Ныне их раздирает вражда. Одни остались верны Императору, другие же присоединились к Магистру Войны. Величайшие из космических десантников, командиры многотысячных легионов – примархи. Величественные сверхчеловеческие существа, они - венец генетических достижений Императора. И теперь, когда они сошлись в бою, никому неизвестно, кто станет победителем. Миры полыхают. На Исстване-5 предательским ударом Гор практически уничтожил три верных Императору легиона. Так началась война – конфликт, который вверг человечество в пламя. На смену чести и благородству пришли измена и коварство. В тенях поджидают убийцы. Собираются армии. Каждому предстоит принять чью-либо сторону или же сгинуть навек. Гор создает армаду, и цель его гнева – сама Терра. Восседающий на Золотом Троне Император ожидает возвращения блудного сына. Но его настоящий враг – Хаос, изначальная сила, которая жаждет подчинить человечество своим изменчивым прихотям. Крикам невинных и мольбам праведных вторит жестокий смех Темных Богов. Если Император проиграет войну, человечеству уготованы страдания и вечное проклятье. Эпоха знаний и просвещения миновала. Наступила Эра Тьмы. ДЕЙСТВУЮЩИЕ ПЕРСОНАЖИ. Легион Несущих Слово. Лоргар Аврелиан - владыка Легиона и Колхиды. Мардук - капеллан Тридцать Четвертой штурмовой роты. Дал Кзарх - младший капитан Тридцать Четвертой штурмовой роты. Буриас - сержант восьмого тактического отделения, Тридцать Четвертая штурмовая рота. Сабтек - сержант тринадцатого отделения, Тридцать Четвертая штурмовая рота. Эрдем - катафрактий, Культ Помазанников. Баккар - катафрактий, Культ Помазанников. Галдар - тринадцатое отделение, Тридцать Четвертая штурмовая рота. Легион Ультрадесанта. Эргаст Гракх - капитан Сорок Третьей роты. Уллис Пульп - капеллан Сорок Третьей роты. Гергор Эран - чемпион Четвертого Ордена. Доморий Кронн - первое тактическое отделение, Двадцать Седьмая рота. Легио Аквиларум. Декер Ареон - принцепс-майорис "Робустис Ортиз", титана класса "Повелитель войн". Деятели Империума. Евгений Орлатон - лорд-генерал Авионских полков Имперской Армии. Георг Лахруз - итератор Триста первой экспедиции. Мител Фарри - пиктограф. Ничто так не тяготит душу, как грехи прошлого. Это нельзя изменить, сколько бы усилий ты не приложил. - из послания Лоргара Аврелиана, примарха Несущих Слово, к Робауту Жиллиману, владыке Ультрадесанта, после Сожжения Хура. Из мрака невежества в направлении света истинной веры, что дарует нам Бог-Император Человечества, шагаем мы для спасения собственной души. Сколько бы не говорили про Имперские Истины, но нам лишь ведомо, что правда на нашей стороне. Ведь истинное божество отрицает свою божественность. - вступительные строки Лектитио Дивинатус. Наследие Терры - знания, технологии, история - пусть будут важны для Империума. Но не для нас. Колхида изменилась за долгие века изоляции, сделав своих сыновей верными и самоотверженными. Другим неведомо чувство братства, коим мы обладаем. - Хранитель Веры Кор Фаэрон, отрывок из "Наследия Завета".

Яростную Бездну все любят помянать_)) Свэллоу в Немезисе_) Каунтер описал=) Макнилл в Механикуме=) Плюс где-то еще упомянули.ю но по ХЕреси книгам [ Добавлено спустя 2 минуты 32 секунды ] Ну все равно Ультра остается Альфой в серии Ереси, так как еще будут в книгах секрет. АДБ еще битву за Калт не описал... плюс Свэллоу про ангелов не писал

"с сайта АД-Б" What’s the news about you doing a 2-parters about Abaddons rising as new Warmaster? And will Void Stalker be the definite ending to the Night Lords series or is there some potential to sequals?” There’s no news on the Abaddon series, because even if I knew I was doing it, it’s waaaayyyyyy too early to announce it. It might happen, it might not. I look at my notes from time to time, then feel guilty at my sliding deadlines, and try to get back to the serious business of finishing my current projects. If I ever did it (in my notes it’s called “The Abaddon Thing” or “Rise of the Warmaster”), then it’d probably be a long series, not a duology, anymore. As for Void Stalker, it doesn’t necessarily have to be the end of the Night Lords Series, but it’s very definitely an end to that particular era. Рано пока загадывать, но надеюсь прочитать про становление Эзекиля на пост Вармастера

Древние эльдар - таинственная раса, и каждый из них посвящает свою жизнь выбранному пути, который будет управлять их действиями и решать судьбу. Тирианна оставляет ее простое существование, чтобы пойти по таинственному Пути Провидца. Её ожидает темная и опасная дорога, которая приведёт ее к чуждому королевству варпа, где демоны воплощаются, и все кошмары реальны, только там она может реализовать свои экстрасенсорные способности. После открытия ее силы в сражении и общении с духами ее Исскуственного Мира, Тирианна использует свои навыки для различения будущего среди бесчисленных поворотов судьбы. Ее видения предвещают большую угрозу, спускающуюся на Алаиток, и живые и мертвые будут сражаться, чтобы защитить его. [ Добавлено спустя 2 минуты 53 секунды ] "Отрывок с сайта БЛ"It took three cycles until Thirianna had recovered sufficiently from her first experience of the skein to contact Kelamith. The farseer had been notably absent as Thirianna had rested in her new rooms, and had offered no explanation of what had happened to her. Thirianna considered the possibility that Kelamith had known what would happen, and had foreseen that she would regain her mental harmony in time, and chosen not to intervene. Just that briefest glimpse of the skein had opened Thirianna’s mind to the wondrous possi- bilities that lay before her. Rather than being fearful of approaching the infinity circuit again she was excited by the prospect. Yet it had taken three days of meditation and contemplation before she had been able to think of the skein without being dizzied by its power. Midway through the fourth cycle after the episode, she received an invitation from Kelamith to join him in the gardens next to her chambers. He made it clear that the two of them would be venturing into the infinity circuit again, which set Thirianna’s mind racing in all direc- tions. As she made her way down towards the parkland, her first thought was one of concern. What if she were incapable of interacting with the skein? What if she lacked the psychic pow- er to deal with its infinite possibilities? She dismissed the idea as she reached the edge of the gardens. Kelamith had hinted that her mind’s defences would be more of a hindrance than a help at this early stage; if he had any further worries over her suitability he would have voiced them or refused to become her mentor altogether. His lack of concern for her wellbeing led Thirianna to believe that what she had encountered, and her reaction, was commonplace. Following the path up to the top of the rock hill, she wondered how many attempts it would take before she could interact with the infinity circuit. She was impatient, more than at any time in her life. She had a lifetime to perfect any art or skill she turned her mind to, but her desire to see what the future held for her propelled her forwards more swiftly than on any previous Path. It was possible, she concluded, that in her haste to comprehend the skein she was unwittingly stalling her development. Kelamith stood beneath the branches of a tree near to the bench atop the hill. His eyes were free of witchlight and his expression was one of almost paternal pride, which confused Thirianna. ‘Greetings, child,’ said the farseer. Thirianna nodded her head in return and sat on the bench. ‘I trust you feel restored and recuperated? You have not been unduly perturbed by your recent experience?’ ‘I am rested,’ said Thirianna. She smiled at the farseer as he walked over to her and stopped in front of the bench. ‘And I am eager to try again. I hope that with your guidance I will not fail this time.’ ‘Fail?’ Confusion knotted Kelamith’s brow. ‘There was no failure. Not on your part, at least. I failed to divine the extent of your instinct and natural ability, and did not take suitable precautions for your safe-keeping.’ ‘I do not understand.’ The farseer sat beside Thirianna, closer than would normally be acceptable between recent acquaintances. Thirianna tried to ignore the intrusion into her personal space. ‘You went further into the infinity circuit than I considered possible,’ explained Kelamith. ‘For most of us, our first steps upon the Path are tentative and short-lived. We see no more than a fraction of the infinity circuit, and nothing of the great realm of which it is part. You, on your first attempt, looked upon the skein itself. The skein is a thing of wonder, but it can- not be seen without training and preparation.’ Thirianna tried not to look smug at the thought that she had done so well, but evidently failed. Kelamith’s frown of confusion turned to one of annoyance. ‘You have natural power but no control, child,’ he said. ‘Once the shackles have been loosed from our thoughts it is easy to look at the skein. The skill comes in understanding it; in seeing only a part and choosing a singular thread to follow. Any fool can look at the mass of the future, but a seer must separate the detail from the noise, the important from the unimportant.’ Kelamith stood up and waved for Thirianna to follow him. ‘We will return to the infinity circuit and we will try again,’ said the farseer. ‘This time I want you to only peek at what can be seen.’ ‘And how do I do that?’ Thirianna asked as they started down the hill. ‘As a child we blinded you, and now that you have opened your eyes again the light burns them,’ said Kelamith. ‘I will teach you the means to open them only slightly and protect yourself from the harsh glare of the unbounded skein.’ As before, they made their way into the heart of Alaitoc, walking through the interlinked Chambers of the Seers until they came to the same room as before. The infinity circuit node rose from the floor at Kelamith’s command and he indicated for Thirianna to approach it. ‘Do you still remember the words?’ he asked. ‘I do,’ replied Thirianna. The verses were etched into her thoughts as deeply as her poems had once been. Oddly, she realised, she could barely remember her compositions when once they had come to mind at the slightest thought. The destruction of the crystals had been mirrored by her memory. ‘Concentrate on the sense of form,’ said Kelamith. ‘Retain a foundation within your form rather than letting your spirit free. Chain your mind with the reality of your being and the restrictions of form.’ Thirianna did not quite understand what the farseer meant, but she was eager to link with the infinity circuit again. This time when she placed her hand on the node, she tried to pic- ture the way she had interacted with the infinity circuit countless times before, skimming across its surface without delving into it. ‘That will not do,’ said Kelamith, sensing her intent. ‘You cannot simply look upon the infinity circuit, you must still become part of it, while keeping yourself detached.’ ‘That is a contradiction, surely?’ said Thirianna. ‘Remember: Mind, Being and Form,’ said the farseer. ‘Three intertwined parts of you, each separate and the same. If such concepts prove difficult, there is nothing I can do to help you.’ Nodding her submission to this logic, Thirianna took a breath and allowed herself to slip into the infinity circuit. At first she did as she had planned, touching only lightly upon the huge matrix of psychic energy that ran through every part of Alaitoc. She allowed her thoughts to dance towards the distant rim, where ship manifests and passenger lists inhabited the frameworks of the docks; to the Pinnacle of Mornings, where a group of poets were reciting the Epic of Eldanesh; to the Dome of Crystal Seers; to the Arc of the Turning Suns. She felt a presence beside her: Kelamith, not physically, but within the structure of the infinity circuit. ‘Thirianna will delve a little deeper,’ he said. She felt warmth from his presence, like the glow of safety that wrapped her as a child when her mother had held her. It was sanctuary and it bolstered Thirianna’s confidence. She started to recite the words taught to her by Kelamith and felt her consciousness slipping further into the infinity circuit. ‘Thirianna will stay where she is, deep enough to see,’ said the farseer. The sensation was different this time. Thirianna understood what Kelamith meant about be- ing part of the infinity circuit while remaining separate. Her form had become the infinity cir- cuit but her being remained as it was and her mind lingered between the two. Her world had become a glittering web of power, but rather than try to see it all, she concen- trated on what was close at hand. She was inside the Arc of the Turning Suns. She could feel the flutter of the engineers touching upon the infinity circuit as they tended to the star-sails gather- ing energy from the dying sun. With another part of her mind she could witness them at their stations, making gentle adjustments to the massive solar collectors to maximise their efficiency. She became aware of Kelamith beside her, watching without comment. He appeared as a golden spark in the infinity circuit, his psychic energy diffusing along dozens of conduits but concentrated close at hand. Something else flickered into her consciousness. At first they were too fast to comprehend; flashing pinpricks that had raced past by the time her mind had become aware of them. Thi- rianna narrowed her focus, picking a handful of crystalline threads to interact with. The speed of everything seemed to slow as her thoughts coalesced, making the workings of the infinity circuit plainer to see. The constant thrum of psychic energy became a slower pulse, moving outwards along the conduits of the infinity circuit in rhythm to Alaitoc’s ponderous heartbeat. It rippled from the core to the rim, near-instantaneous in reality, but to her mind’s eye becoming subtle, entranc- ing waves. More of the bright sparks she had seen passed close by and Thirianna caught them with her thoughts, her scrutiny slowing their progress. There were several dozen of them, clustered in groups each a handful strong. They appeared as tiny creatures, each group occupying the area of a fingernail. Yet there was immense power contained in their miniscule forms. Looking even more closely, she saw tiny clawed legs splay- ing across the threads of energy and she realised she looked upon the warp spiders from which the Aspect Warriors of the same name drew inspiration. Each warp spider raced along the infinity circuit’s threads, dozens of legs moving faster than thought. They rode upon the pulses of energy, then dashed back to the core before the next, heaved out on the tide of psychic power before returning to the hub. They became aware of Thirianna and investigated. They circled around the mote of conscious- ness that was her mind, scurrying to and fro while they inspected her. Created to guard the infinity circuit from malign presences, the warp spiders quickly realised that Thirianna was no foe and relaxed their guard. Rather than move on, they circled playfully around her, excited by this new presence. She could feel the tiny pinpricks of energy passing through her as the warp spiders danced across the infinity circuit, joyfully clambering around and through her thoughts. The warp spiders were like a psychic tickle running through her mind, each a particle of pu- rity and happiness that left a warm trail where it touched her, criss-crossing her memories and thoughts with tiny footsteps. The experience was cleansing, the warp spiders feeding on tiny shreds of negative energy that leaked from Thirianna’s deepest fears and worst emotions; fears and emotions kept locked away in the recesses of her mind but never wholly secured. ‘It will be enough for the moment.’ Kelamith washed through Thirianna, scattering the warp spiders. ‘Thirianna will have her first true taste of the infinity circuit, but she must quell her curiosity and retain control.’ Kelamith’s mind linked with Thirianna’s and pulled her across the infinity circuit back to the Chambers of the Seers. For a strange moment Thirianna found herself looking at her own form. She realised that no matter how graceful and poised her body seemed, to the realm of the purely psychic it was crude as any other physical structure, with the same imperfections and compromises as any living being. It was a humbling moment, right before she was reunited with the shell of her body. Thirianna felt a wave of claustrophobia as she was restricted to her normal, physical senses again. The weight of her form was a burden to her thoughts, which struggled across chemical synapses and along physical nerves. The sensation of loss passed and Thirianna opened her eyes, looking at her hands upon the infinity circuit node. Kelamith stood to her right, eyes blazing with psychic energy. He turned that otherworldly stare upon Thirianna. ‘Thirianna will do well, but she must be told that this is only the beginning,’ said Kelamith. ‘She will return here in the next cycle and we will continue.’ ‘Yes, she will,’ Thirianna said, her mind still tingling with after-effects from the warp spiders.

"Я понял свое упущение, и приложу все усилия, чтобы исправить его". :ork-up:

Единственный из известных ПН, который обладает даром Курца. Узас ему талдычет в Блад Ривере, что папа мол убийца, пользовавшийся дарами богов. Да еще он мальца благороден даже=)

Ну это же АДБ. ПН, Керз спас Лоргара... Плюс Севатара вписать смог в небольшой момент, но показав его крутость - "Мол, Сева, разберись с Кораксом. - Окей, босс, сделаю".

Не знаю как всем, но мне пока серия про Талоса и Первый Коготь нра.

Сегодня, блуждая по интернету в поисках Аврелиана, наткнулся на сайт АДБ, где выложен кусок пролога третьей книги про приключения Талоса и первого когтя "Щелкни и вылетит птичка..."PROLOGUE - RAIN - THE PROPHET AND THE murderess stood on the battlements of the dead citadel, weapons in their hands. Rain slashed in a miserable flood, thick enough to obscure vision, hissing against the stone even as it ran from the mouths of leering gargoyles to drain down the castle’s sides. Above the rain, the only audible sounds came from the two figures: one human, standing in broken armour that thrummed with static crackles; the other, an alien maiden in ancient and contoured war plate, weathered by an eternity of scarring. ‘This is where your Legion died, isn’t it?’ Her voice was modulated by the helm she wore, emerging from the death-mask’s open mouth with a curious sibilance that almost melted into the rain. ‘We call this world Shithr Vejruhk. What is it in your serpent’s tongue? Tsagualsa, yes? Answer me this, prophet. Why would you come back here?’ The prophet didn’t answer. He spat acidic blood onto the dark stone floor, and drew in another ragged breath. The sword in his hands was a cleaved ruin, its shattered blade severed halfway along its length. He didn’t know where his bolter was, and a smile crept across his split lips as he felt an instinctive tug of guilt. It was surely a sin to lose such a Legion relic. ‘Talos,’ the maiden smiled as she spoke, he could hear it in her voice. Her amusement was remarkable if only for the absence of mockery and malice. ‘Do not be ashamed, human. Everyone dies.’ The prophet sank to one knee, blood leaking from the cracks in his armour. His attempt at speech left his lips as a grunt of pain. The only thing he could smell was the chemical reek of his own injuries. The maiden came closer, even daring to rest the scythe-bladed tip of her spear on the wounded warrior’s shoulder guard. ‘I speak only the truth, prophet. There’s no shame in this moment. You have done well to even make it this far.’ Talos spat blood again, and hissed two words. ‘Valas Morovai.’ The murderess tilted her head as she looked down at him. Her helm’s crest of black and red hair was dreadlocked by the rain, plastered to her death mask. She looked like a woman sinking into water, shrieking silently as she drowned. ‘Many of your bitter whisperings remain occluded to me,’ she said. ‘You speak… ”First Claw”, yes?’ Her unnatural accent struggled with the words. ‘They were your brothers? You call out to the dead, in the hopes they will yet save you. How strange.’ The blade fell from his grip, too heavy to hold any longer. He stared at it lying on the black stone, bathed in the downpour, shining silver and gold as clean as they day he’d stolen it. Slowly, he lifted his head, facing his executioner. Rain showered the blood from his face, salty on his lips, stinging his eyes. He wondered if she was still smiling behind the mask. He was going to die here. Here, of all places. On his knees, atop the battlements of his Legion’s deserted fortress, the Night Lord started laughing. Neither his laughter nor the storm above were loud enough to swallow the throaty sound of burning thrusters. A gunship – blue-hulled and blackly sinister – bellowed its way into view. As it rose above the battlements, rain sluiced from its avian hull in silver streams. Heavy bolter turrets aligned in a chorus of mechanical grinding, the sweetest music ever to grace the prophet’s ears. Talos was still laughing as the Thunderhawk hovered in place, riding its own heat haze, with the dim lighting of the cockpit revealing two figures within. The alien maiden was already moving. She became a black blur, dancing through the rain in a velvet sprint. Detonations clawed at her heels as the gunship opened fire, shredding the stone at her feet in a hurricane of explosive rounds. One moment she fled across the parapets, the next she simply ceased to exist, vanishing into shadow. Talos didn’t rise to his feet, uncertain he’d manage it if he tried. He closed the only eye he had left. The other was a blind and bleeding orb of irritating pain, sending dull throbs back into his skull each time his two hearts beat. His bionic hand, shivering with joint glitches and flawed neural input damage, reached to activate the vox at his collar. ‘I will listen to you, next time.’ Above the overbearing whine of downward thrusters, a voice buzzed over the gunship’s external vox speakers. Distortion stole all trace of tone and inflection. ‘I felt liked I owed you.’ ‘I told you to leave. I ordered it.’ ‘Master,’ the external vox speakers crackled back. ‘I…’ ‘Go, damn you.’ When he next glanced at the gunship, he could see the two figures more clearly. They sat side by side, in the pilots’ thrones. ‘You are formally discharged from my service,’ he slurred the words as he voxed them, and started laughing again. The gunship stayed aloft, engines giving out their horrendous whine, blasting hot air across the battlements. The rain steamed on the prophet’s armour as it evaporated. The voice rasping over the vox was female this time. ‘Talos.’ ‘Run. Run far from here, and all the death this world offers. Flee to the last city, and catch the next vessel off-world. The Imperium is coming. They will be your salvation. But remember what I said. If Variel escapes alive, he will come for the child one night, no matter where you run.’ ‘He might never find us.’ Talos’s laughter finally faded, though he kept the smile. ‘Pray that he doesn’t.’ He drew in a knifing breath as he slumped with his back to the battlements, grunting at the stabs from his ruined lungs and shattered ribs. Grey drifted in from the edge of his vision, and he could no longer feel his fingers. One hand rested on his cracked breastplate, upon the ritually-broken Aquila, polished by the rain. The other rested on his fallen bolter, Malcharion’s weapon, on its side from where he’d dropped it in the earlier battle. With numb hands, the prophet reloaded the double-barrelled bolter, and took another slow pull of cold air into lungs that no longer wanted to breathe. His bleeding gums turned his teeth pink. ‘I’m going after her.’ ‘Don’t be a fool.’ Talos let the rain drench his upturned face, no longer gracing the gunship with even a shred of attention. Strange, how a moment’s mercy let them believe they could talk to him like that. He hauled himself to his feet and started walking across the back stone battlements. In one hand he held a broken blade; in the other, an ancient bolter. ‘She killed my brothers,’ he said. ‘I’m going after her.’ "Кстати, чуть не позабыл....""Ибо мы - братья. Мы видели, как примархи гибнут от меча и пламени, мы видели, как наши поступки разожгли галактическую войну. Мы предавали и сами были преданы в ответ. Мы проливаем кровь ради неизвестного будущего, сражаемся во имя лжи, которую говорят наши повелители. Что нам остается, кроме преданности соплеменникам? Я здесь, потому что вы здесь. Потому что мы братья". Севатарион "Севатар" Яго, отрывок из "Темного пути", гл. 6, Единство. Это эпиграф к одной из глав, которую перевела hades_wench

У Торпа и 13-ый Штрафной шикарны, Эльдарская три-дилогия(пока). А по Ереси можно выделить Полет Ворона+Лик Предательства (хотя больше ничего и нет)

ну ждем третью книгу, которую может-быть напишет Стив Лайонс или Генри Зу (дилогию про ТА писали пока самые "популярно-крутые" пейсатели) .

Абнетт - лучший (+ за "Сожжение Просперо", "Легион" и "Ордо Еретикус") ork-up.gif : АД-Б тоже молодец, стиль и задумки с эпиграфами... все круто в общем Митчелл - скатывается все ниже и ниже с каждой книгой про Каина rip.gif