Alone, far away from his comrades and his Legion, dying from cruel wounds on some nameless rock, his passing as memorable as smoke. Then, briefly, he imagined another death. A great battle, upon which human culture would be based. Such an hour would become so ingrained in the minds of men that it would be the cornerstone of all that came after. Loken would battle, and die, and perhaps even Horus would die, to save the Emperor at the last. Primarch Horus would be there, of course. He imagined himself at the Emperor’s side, fighting some great, last stand against an unknown foe. Fabled, imaginary combats flashed through his mind. He tried to picture the manner of his own death. Men would cry out for Abaddon’s return, but he would never come. There would be a time when Abaddon no longer waged bloody war across the territories of humanity. Not even the great First Captain Ezekyle Abaddon would survive forever. This message was edited 1 time.“Loken tried to imagine the future, but the image would not form. An' da only fing better than a dead 'ooman'z a dyin' 'ooman who tell you where ter find 'is mates. musing why his newly constructed dreadnought wasn't working Nah, I put da little feller in upside down. 'Right, first I'll take those teef out for yer, dat should help ease da pain in yer leg. And that's before yer find yerself a nice world ta crush!'
Come ter fink of it, space is a pretty good larf. One time we had some bloody great ugly fing come straight out of Weird Lugwort's 'ed! It butchered half da lads, that was pretty entertainin'. Or unless yer have a mutiny or two to pass da time, or unless strange fings start happenin', which dey usually do when yer out in da warp. Or if humie lootas come callin', that's always good fer a bit a sport. Well, boring unless da hulk yer on is full of dem gene-sneakers, or a base fer da chaos lads wiv da spikes, or already has Boyz on it.
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