Hello, Starchildren! Your 40k Horoscope is back and ready to predict the future! We’re also here to talk about your feelings.
Ad Mech: Your star is rising, and many, many followers join your path. You used to be a rare commodity, but now, you’ve got more fans than the emperor himself. How will you avoid hate, salt, and tears, you ask? Play Something else. Or just crush you foes before, and relish in the lamentations of their servitors.
Adeptus Custodes: You’ve always been beautiful. You had your time in the sun, riding giant obelisks of gold, but the hammer of fate struck you down. Since then, you’ve been lying in wait, sitting in buildings and scrougning out victories over your foes with patience and 1+ saves in cover. Now, you have untold resources at your disposal, but buildings are kinda see-through! Scary times. What lies ahead of you? Check your life-line to find out your tournament record in the future.
Death Guard: You are loud, stinky, and proud. You bring the pestilence to the party. Some call you lifeless, others say you’re full of character, and can always wring a laugh out of the right audience. Others say you will bring untold tears to the denizens of the galaxy, and might even be a bit broken. People will hate you, but everyone in the room will probably pass out from the smell, so I wouldn’t worry about it.
Necrons: Resurrected and it feels so good! Wow. It’s crazy what some attention from dad and a fresh coat of paint can do. Zero to hero! A phoenix from the ashes! Szeras is super easy to kill!
Squats: The prodigal son. You’ve been long lost in the fog of memory (or just the warp.) No one knows what the future will hold for you, or if you even have a future outside the margins. Regardless, you’re still cool. Stay that way, little man.
Harlequins: Dance like nobodies watching and people will make fun of you, especially in the 41st Millenium. Lucky for you, if someone makes fun of your outfit, your silly laugh, your body, or your friends, you can spin kick their head off and write a play about it; then dance back into the webway. You’re a Harlequin! you’ve got abilities no one else does. You’ve got style that would make the most dandy of Imperial regents look like an extra from THX-1138. Never stop dancing.
Deathwatch: You’ve always been grimmer than your battle-brothers. Maybe that’s why they shipped you off to hunt deadly aliens that no one else cares to mess with. If you found the HR paperwork related to your “auspicious induction into the Deathwatch,” you’d find our that Brother-Sergeant Caledor said that, “He doesn’t play well with others.” Your commander is a guy named Artemis. The only thing the armory seems to equip you with is a storm bolter and a storm shield, but you’ve got your fingers crossed that someday soon, you can diversify, but diversity isn’t really what the Imperium is all about…just ask the Squats, or anyone who doesn’t worship the Corpse God, er, God Corpse Emperor of Mankind. Fortunately for you, your old chapter was lost to the Cicatrix Maledictum. So, haha to them. Bastards.
Well, that’s it for this week, everybody. Make sure you read those tea leaves, look up into the sky, and draw some eldritch runes on your walls. Until we meet again!
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