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... This was a massacre.
At the edge of the void, perhaps the fires of war were already encroaching. Yet in the grotesque, twisted heart of the dark city, the Trueborn nobles of the Aeldari should have been gleefully performing their daily ritual of harvesting the necessary quota of tormented souls.
Commorragh was, after all, such an absurd place.
The Trueborn scions clad in Ghostplate Armour stood armored in hardened resin—comparable to the Imperium’s finest Terminator armor ...
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