Russ, You and the Wolf Pack, Always Coming and Going

The power shockwave echoed through Leman Russ's mind, as if thousands upon thousands of iron hammers were pounding his skull, and as if ten million golden needles were stabbing through his brain.

His eyes were bruised purple, his vision blurred, filled with scarlet.

The bridge of his proud nose had collapsed, flesh torn apart by the Disruption Field, exposed white bone creaking.

Blood flowed like a waterfall, scattering a string of bright red beads across the ground.

All strength left him, and his right hand weakly released the giant Frostblade axe.

How could... how could I... lose...

I... grasped... Nimrod's... lifeline...

No... one... not even... a... Primarch... can... change... their own... lifeline...

Russ slammed heavily into the right-hand cliff wall where the wolves stood.

Rumble...

The collapsing rocks battered down onto Russ one after another, letting out a chain of booming crashes.

Every rock made his body tremble and forced more bloody foam from him.

As Russ's body shuddered and shook, the thunderous noise echoed through his mind, scattering his thoughts.

After a fleeting flash of stone color and darkness, he no longer moved.

As his consciousness blurred, countless images abruptly surfaced in his mind: black armor, golden wings, a blue-white sword edge, a shining golden fist, and...

That ill-omened lifeline, faint and elusive, seeming at once gripped in his hand and slipping away—Nimrod's lifeline.

Did I... actually... grasp... his... lifeline... or not...

The question echoed through Russ's mind, resounding in the depths of his soul.

Amid the rumbling blasts, a huge fissure appeared in the cliff wall.

A dozen or so wolves lost their footing, tumbling down and smashing against the mountainside.

The Wolf Lord of the 3rd Great Company, Ogvi Ogvi Heimschrut, stood frozen in place, his amber irises filled with golden light and spraying blood.

*The pack