For The Emperor

For over a hundred centuries, the Emperor has stood on the Golden Throne of the Earth. He is the master of mankind. With the strength of his countless armies, a million worlds resist the darkness. He is, however, only a rotting carcass, the Lord Scavenger of the Imperium, kept alive by the prodigies of the Technological Middle Ages and the thousands of souls sacrificed every day so that his own will endure. To be a man in such a time is to be one of the many. It is to live under the cruelest and bloodiest regime that one can imagine. It is to undergo an eternity of carnage, tears and cries of suffering stifled by the laughter of insatiable black gods. It is a dark and terrible age where there is little comfort or hope. Forget the power of technology and science. Forget the promise of progress and enlightenment. Forget any notion of humanity or compassion. There is no peace among the stars, for in the darkness of the far future, there is only war. This is the 41st millennium.