41st MILLENNIUM. For more than a hundred centuries, the Emperor has been sitting motionless on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods, and the Lord of a million worlds by the might of His innumerable armies. He is a rotting shell, invisibly supported by the power of the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Dead Lord of the Imperium, to whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so He never truly dies. EVEN in his immortal state, the Emperor maintains his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets traverse the daemon-infested Warp, the only path between the distant stars, their path illuminated by the Astronomicon, the visible manifestation of the Emperor's spiritual will. Vast armies fight in His name on countless worlds. The greatest among his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, genetically enhanced super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are many: the Imperial Guard and the countless Planetary Defense Forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the Tech-Priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus are just one of many. But for all their numbers, they are barely enough to contain the ever-present threat of aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse enemies. TO BE human in a time like this is to be one of countless billions. This means living under the most cruel and bloody regime imaginable. This is a story about those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten and will never be rediscovered. Forget about the prospects of progress and mutual understanding, for in the darkness of a dark future there is only war. There is no peace among the stars, only an eternity of carnage and bloodshed, and the laughter of thirsty gods.

...41st millennium. Abaddon's Thirteenth Black Crusade. The Shrine World of Cathur is struck by the Chaos Plague, and Imperial Guard troops land on the planet to return it to the rule of the Imperium.