Hmmmmm. Dark Elves? Khorne? Soup?
We are all the same in the eyes of the Rumour Engine. We stare up to it in awe, awaiting its next image, but it doesn’t even register our presence – its gaze forever cast to the myriad threads of the future. Behold, now, the gift it indifferently drops at our feet as the by-product of its inner workings.