The Emissary Approaches!

The air is thick with the stench of biomass and the psychic pressure of the Hive Mind presses like a vice against your mind. You stand atop the broken, blackened ruins of what was once a proud Imperial bastion, its banners torn and buried under Tyranid growths and pulsing organic tendrils. The skies are stained with ash. A low hum—psychic in nature—builds to a maddening crescendo.

Then, it emerges.

A towering silhouette looms above the battlefield. Thirty feet of twitching muscle, scything talons that shimmer with ichor, and a grotesquely exposed brain pulsing with warp-light. The Norn Emissary, born not to conquer but to kill, fixates on you—your psionic spoor etched into its very being.

It knows you.
It was made to kill you.

The Emissary roars, a sound like reality being torn in half, its mind spearing toward yours like a blade of fire. Talons flex. Psychic tendrils twitch with anticipation. The final duel begins.