Board Thread:Roleplaying/@comment-1734134-20170510201346/@comment-1734134-20170604012713

Governor Pryce's voice escapes through the vox-caster,

"We stand now, at the precipice. A great nation once more threatens to crumble, to topple into the sea of lawlessness and despair that have ruled us all for over two hundred years. In short, my dearest America, we are at war. Even as I speak these words, fearless Imperial soldiers are fortifying their positions at the great fortress in the north. Bracing for an inevitable assault. The renegades, in their arrogance, has claimed this world as their own. They would steal the Imperium’s work. Steal Imperial soil. Its only a matter of time before the traitors march on the fortress, and attempt to take it by force. Let them come. Wave upon, traitorous wave will crash upon the Imperium. The mutants will fail. All those who oppose the Imperium will fail. I am Governor Pryce, and this is my pledge: No one, No one will take this great nation away from me! Emperor Bless. With the aid of the Astartes, we will push back the invaders. Come to us Astartes, as soon as you can, no matter the course. The people here await you."

You're able to gain some insight into enemy positions - a vague idea of your encircled position, a direction you might thrust towards in the north, but then something else overcomes you. As the Imperial citizenry move towards the gathered astartes, a foul chilled wind runs through the air, an awful icy sensation that cuts through all of you and leaves your knees knocking and blood cold. A presence presses against the barriers of reality for a moment.