Illisk

“Lies, all of it...especially those portions as ring true in the heart when first heard. This is the liar’s craft displayed, and so undone. That is my judgment upon these so-called Thulean secrets.”
–Astigos of Far Prol, Seneschal to Morthus Winterscale   The Disciples of Thule possess records that speak of a strange machine world deep in the Koronus Expanse; hidden cogitation arrays are packed beneath every part of its crust in huge vaults descending to the very limits of geoauspex probes. The surface is swept by tumultuous storms and rendered barren by ancient strip mining. Huge towers vent geothermic heat through vast shafts into the turbulent atmosphere, the heat driving frenzied storm belts of churning clouds. Ten citadels project from the crust, each massive as a hive, echoing and empty but for the whispering dust of xenos dead. Corridors tens of kilometers long are crowded with niches in which dried xenos corpses remain, their desiccated flesh still punctured by filaments that link into the vast machines.

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