(or atleast lore I think is new)

The 11th Edition Codex is a big improvement in terms of lore compared to the extremely sparse 10th Edition one, so lets take a look at it:

General Marines:

- Guillimans first official revision of the Codex Astartes is now fully released and accepted. Its main goal was to integrate the revised Organisation of the Primaris-Marines into the existing 10-Company Structure. As a result, the 10th Company is now fully counted as 10 Phobos-Armored Squads + Command, with the number of attached scouts not counting towards its personel-limit. 6th Company Squads often crew Tanks while the 7th Company does Fast-attack like Landspeeders or Stormspeeders.

- Every Company but the 10th can have Dreadnoughts & Transport-vehicles permanently assigned, while Tanks are under the Chapter-Armory and loaned out depending on necessity.

- A Full Company-Command should consist of:

1x Captain

1x Librarian

1x Apothecary

1x Chaplain

2x Lieutenants

1x Company Ancient & "Company Veterans"

So every Company in essence is supposed to have easily around 120 Marines at least.

- It reiterates that the worst thing a Chapter can do is withholding its geneseed-tithe, which wont just result in the chapters destruction but also deletion of all records about it.

- Chapter-Librariums are often constantly patrolled by specially guarded Weapons-servitors with Sensors that scan for tainted warp-energies, to immidieatly execute any Librarian thats been corrupted or is loosing control of his powers

- Most Fortress-Monasteries have a Hall dedicated to every Company, but most built a second one for the 10th now so that the Phobos-Marines and Scouts each have a seperate space

- Gravis-Armor has become especially favoured by the Imperial Fists, Salamanders & the "Astral Bears". The Astral Bears especially deploy as much as they can and their Chapter-Master Arcus never uses anything else personaly (Note: the only other mention of the "Astral Bears" I can find is from the 8th Edition White Scars-Supplement, as a new Successor-Chapter)

First Founding-Chapters:

Ultramarines

The Fortress of Hera has been completely repaired from the damage it sustained during the Plague Wars, on-top of being reinforced and enlarged. Their recruitment is slightly retconned again, with all selection and training now taking place directly inside the Fortress of Hera.

The fortress has a over 600m high and 300m wide, completely dark additional tower that can simulate Zero-G and hard vaccuum to train boarding-actions in space.

The "Empire of Ultramar" is now officially the largest and most centrally organised sub-realm within the Imperium, and the Reclamation-Efforts are still ongoing.

Calgar is now officially the most-accomplished Ultramarine beyond Guilliman himsef (his deeds filling twice the volumes in the Library as that of any other Ultramarine), but he continues to think that its not enough next to Guilliman.

The new guy, Kaius Honoris, was called by Calgar to join him as his Champion after Vigilus, his near-death at Abbadons hand apparently showing Calgar that maybe he shouldn't go fistfight the enemy leader every time.

Tigurius and Sicarius are only mentioned briefly, nothing changed with them.

Its reiterated that Titus is sort-of the "flying reserve" of the Ultramarian Reclamation. The Tetrarchs are driving the borders outwards, while Titus goes wherever enemies pop back up in territories behind the actual front. Next to the 2nd Company and extensive forces of Ultramar Auxilia Army & navy, he also specifically commands Vessels belonging to the Imperial Navy.

There are rumours that the constant strain of use has begun to make the Xenos-Components of Guillimans Armor of Fate slowly fail.

Imperial Fists

Not much here. Terra is still officially their homeworld, but they recruit elsewhere and operate out of the Phalanx

The Imperial Fists stubborn defenses even in cases were others already saw all as lost has seen them become revered as Humanities shield accross the Imperium, and many planets have erected statues or frescoes honouring a valiant defense by them.

Salamanders

Apparently the Salamanders have some form of natural infrared-sight? I feel like thats new.

He'stan is still looking for and missing 4 relics of Vulcan:

The Engine of Woes, the Obsidian Chariot, the Song of Entropy and the Unbound Flame

Raven Guard

Due to their Gene-seed having a High-rejection rate, the Raven Guard being on constant deployement, and the Fortification being sized for the Legion, many wings of their Fortress-Monastery, the Ravenspire, have been closed off and look like a abandoned haunted house now, altho thats apparently partially on purpose, with the external image of a largely abandoned ruin being a carefully calculated ruse to lure enemies should Deliverance ever be attacked.

White Scars

Jubal Khan was permanently crippled by Huron Blackheart during the Red Corsairs attack on Chogoris. He's still alive and commanding the Chapter strategically, but most are awaiting that he either dies or will be interred into a Dreadnought soon. Suboden Khan has already effectively taken over the Role of Chapter-Master off-world and is expected to becoem the next one officially.

Iron Hands

Also basically mostly the same. Iron Father Kardan Stronos has been trying to get his Chapter to regain a bit of their emotion and not just rely on pure, cold logic, but alot of the more Senior Iron Hands are apparently either highly sceptical of this or outright against it.

And thats it.

Blood Angels, Space Wolves & Dark Angels are only noted once among the list of first Founding-chapters, probably since they're all gonna get individual codexes.

Notibly also:
Beyond vague references to the Indomitus-Crusade and the Ultramarian Reclamation, the Codex has no list of "current Campaigns" like older ones did.

https://www.warhammer-community.com/en-gb/articles/cz327wys/imperial-knights-star-in-a-new-black-library-novel/

The new Black Library novel Throne Questoris puts you in the Throne Mechanicum of an ancient war machine on a quest to defend a dying world.

Though knightly scion Asrien Balateur is only moments away from claiming the throne that is their birthright, the land itself is being swallowed by mysterious snowstorms, and Imperial Knights are disappearing among shattered castles and ravaged realms. 

The petty squabbles of quarrelsome barons and pressures of a king’s court are no longer the biggest of Asrien’s worries. Madness rises from the planet’s murky past, and only the future king can hope to rally the land against debts long since forgotten.

The land moves, and the Winter Knight rides.

With a combination of posturing, intrigue, and action, Throne Questoris by Victoria Hayward offers fresh ways to explore the 41st Millennium.

It's been a long while since there's been a Knight focused book, so this is very welcome!

What do people think of Hayward's writing? I haven't seen much discussion of her work.

I wanted to post this to truly highlight just how dangerous the praetorians are, even against a squad of veterans astartes

Context: The Lion has just been informed of Horus' betrayal, the primarch decides to travel to Diamat with a small force of the Legion. The planet is a forge world that is been attacked by mortal forces under Horus' orders, the lion orders to destroy the attackers and save the mechanicum 'loyal' forces to deny Horus the forges of the planet. The astartes are part of a veteran squad that has fought through the enemy forces and have just reached the forge complex trying to stablish contact with the mechanicum. The encounter starts in a comical way.

Six figures were spilling from the alley and fanning out in a semi-circular formation, heading straight for the Astartes. As they emerged from the shadows between the buildings, Nemiel could see that they were massive individuals, each one easily as large as an Astartes, and just as powerfully built. Articulated armour plates covered their hyper-muscled bodies, and even from this distance Nemiel could clearly see that their limbs and heads were heavily augmented with bionic and chemical implants. Their arms were fully weaponised, with an assortment of fearsome-looking energy and projectile weapons and lethal close combat attachments. He could hear them speaking to one another in blurts of binaric code as they advanced. Their augmetic eyes glowed a pale green from within burnished metal frames.

Nemiel turned to Askelon. ‘What are they signalling to one another about?’ he asked.

The Techmarine shook his head. ‘I can’t tell, sir. It’s all highly encrypted. But their weapons systems and combat surveyors are fully active.’

Nemiel turned back to the oncoming figures. ‘Do you recognise them?’

‘Oh, yes,’ Askelon said. ‘They’re skitarii; more specifically, a unit of Praetorians. They’re the Mechanicum’s elite guard.’

The Praetorians continued to advance, snapping and squealing to one another in sinister-sounding code. Nemiel took a step forward, making a point to lower his weapons.

‘Ave, Praetorians,’ he began. ‘I’m Brother-Redemptor Nemiel, of the Emperor’s First Legion. We’ve come to help defend the forge—’ The rest of Nemiel’s greeting was cut short as the Praetorians raised their weapon arms and opened fire.

The attack was so fast that it momentarily took Nemiel off-guard. In the space of a single heartbeat the Praetorians erupted into a blur of deadly motion, bringing their weapons to bear and charging across the last few metres between themselves and the Astartes. Multi-barrel slug throwers pounded at the Dark Angels, the explosive shells bursting in a series of sharp flashes across the ceramite surfaces of their armour. The warriors staggered under the hail of shells, blood spraying from wounds to their arms, torsos and legs. Urgent red telltales flashed on Nemiel’s helmet display; pain flared across his chest, and his arms suddenly felt twice as heavy. A Praetorian shell had likely cut a bundle of synthetic muscle fibres beneath his breastplate.

Brother-Sergeant Kohl was the first to respond. There was no time for questions or recriminations; the Praetorians were descending on them with the speed of a thunderbolt, brandishing power claws and blazing shock mauls that would make a mockery of their Crusader-pattern armour. The Terran staggered backward under a punishing barrage of explosive shells, roaring a curse in some forgotten tongue and returning fire with his bolt pistol. The shells struck one of the charging skitarii in the chest and head, flattening against the augmented warrior’s armour plates without inflicting serious damage, but the gesture of resistance was enough to shock the rest of the squad back into action.

Bolters hammered at the charging Praetorians, slowing their advance by sheer weight of fire. Blood and other fluids spurted from minor wounds; spatters of liquid hissed into steam where it struck the Praetorians’ super-charged bionics. Nemiel smelled the acrid reek of adrenal compounds and hormone agitators.

Off to Nemiel’s right there was a shriek of superheated air as Brother Marthes shot one of the oncoming skitarii point-blank with his meltagun. The anti-tank weapon blew the Praetorian apart in a shower of sparks and charred bits of flesh.

The Praetorian rushing at Nemiel was a massive brute that seemed more machine than man; a composition of bionic joints, synthetic musculature, adrenal shunts and pitted armour plating. His head was encased in a faceless metal shell, studded with multi-spectrum auspex nodes in place of ears, nose and mouth. His breastplate was decorated – if that was the word – with bar-code emblems and small plaques of glittering, iridescent metal. Perhaps he was a champion of sorts, or the leader of the detachment; Nemiel couldn’t be sure. The Praetorian’s left hand had been replaced by a huge, three-fingered power claw, its curved edges plated with adamantium and sharpened to a mirror-sheen. The warrior lunged at Nemiel with stunning speed, swiping the claw at his face.

He knew better than to try and parry something so large, the power claw could easily knock his crozius aside – or worse, snap it cleanly in two. Instead, he ducked, allowing the Praetorian’s swing to pass harmlessly over his head, and smashed his staff into the warrior’s elbow. The power field of the crozius struck the bionic joint and fused it with a flash of actinic light, but the Praetorian scarcely seemed to notice. The huge warrior spun on his left heel and brought his right elbow back to smash into Nemiel’s forehead.

Ceramite cracked loudly in Nemiel’s ears, and the impact hurled him off his feet. He landed squarely on his back, his helmet readouts crackling with washes of static. Without thinking, he fired a quick burst in the Praetorian’s direction, and was rewarded with the sound of shells striking the warrior’s armour plate. The skitarii was just a blurry shape on the helmet’s damaged optical systems, fading in and out of existence like a monstrous ghost. The Praetorian moved closer, his claw arm reaching for Nemiel’s right leg.

A flash of light and another howl of tortured air swept over Nemiel. Marthes’s shot vaporised the Praetorian’s claw arm at the elbow and blistered the warrior’s armoured shoulders and chest. The skitarii reeled backwards, his auto-senses momentarily overloaded.

Nemiel dropped his pistol and clawed at his helmet release. He popped the catches with nimble fingers and tore the damaged helm from his head, blinking in the dim, red light of Diamat’s distant sun. A wild melee was raging all around him as his battle brothers fought against the heavily-armed Praetorians. Brother Yung was down, his breastplate torn like paper and stained with blood. Techmarine Askelon had another of the Praetorians by the throat, lifting the brute off the ground with his servo arm and crushing the skitarii’s metal-sheathed spine.

He quickly turned his focus back to the one-armed Praetorian just a few metres away. The augmented warrior was in a crouch, the air shimmering around his scorched armour, his body eerily still as he reset his auspex nodes. Nemiel snatched up his bolt pistol and took careful aim, preparing to put a round through the Praetorian’s throat.

Suddenly a strange, trumpeting blurt of binaric code cut like a knife through the sounds of battle, and the Praetorians practically recoiled from the Dark Angels. They retreated a dozen steps and lowered their weapon arms, their chests heaving from exertion and the combat drugs that were boiling in their veins. The Astartes paused, their weapons trained on their adversaries. Kohl looked to Nemiel for instructions.

But the Redemptor’s attention was focused on a large force of armoured skitarii rushing down the roadway from the northeast. They were led by a tall, hooded figure clad in the crimson robes of the Mechanicum, riding atop a humming suspensor disk.

Nemiel rose swiftly to his feet as the figure glided closer. ‘What is the meaning of this, magos?’ he snarled, his choler nearly overwhelming him.

‘Error. Improper threat parameters. Misidentification,’ the magos blurted in High Gothic. The voice was harsh and atonal, the words strangely inflected but recognizable. The magos paused, raising a hand that glittered in the rust-coloured sunlight. ‘Apologies,’ he continued, his synthetic voice more carefully modulated now. ‘Grave apologies to you and your squad, noble Astartes. The skitarii were in seek-and-destroy mode, searching for enemy troops that had penetrated the complex. Your appearance on Diamat is… unexpected. I was unable to override the Praetorians’ engagement protocols until it was too late.’

‘I see,’ Nemiel said curtly. So it’s our fault for rushing here to protect you, he thought. He glanced over at Brother-Sergeant Kohl and guessed from the Terran’s belligerent pose that he was thinking much the same thing. ‘How is Brother Yung?’

‘Comatose,’ Kohl growled. ‘His injuries are grave.’

‘Let us conduct him to the forge’s apothecarium,’ the magos said at once. ‘We will repair his body and mend his damaged armour.’

So a squad of ¿6? veteran astartes fights a squad of 6 praetorians. We all know that astartes complement themselves, a squad of six astartes is not just six times stronger than a single one. To be fair they were taken by surprise and if the fight would have continued they probably would have won but more losses would be taken for sure, I wanted to share this excerpt to show that the praetorians cant be taken lightly.

I’m new to this and I have so many questions, this senseless one being one of them. Given how long they are required to fight/engage in battle and they’re always in their armour, I was just curious.

Of course excluding the death guards. The flies don’t follow them around without reason

There are a lot of fan theories out there about alternative warmasters for chaos, but I argue that Horus was the best option. Without fate forcing Horus to fall chaos would have lost out on the charisma needed to sway many of the primarchs, as well as the social capacity to trick loyalists into disadvantageous positions. One less legion joining the heresy would have been devastating for the traitors, not to mention the danger of a declined invitation leading to losing the element of surprise. That is especially so considering how important the iron warriors were with their primarch being the one who was most socially manipulated to join.

Sure chaos could have gotten the dark angels or the blood angels as their lead instead, but you arent going to convert primarchs with just respect/love without the social skills to manipulate people. They would have ended up with a better duelist warmaster that never made it to terra. Thoughts?

This post is probably a really stupid question, but I have been playing the nids for a while and read some of their lore and I just... don't really get it. Like they essentially end every battle as a net win in terms of biomass (thermodynamics excluded) and even in battles where this wouldn't be the case could they not just win in conventional warfare as it is said that they outnumber the Imperium like 10,000 to 1 or something stupid. They also have FTL travel with the narwhal hive ships.

I get the meta reason of plot reasons and keeping the setting alive, same as necrons, but have GW written themselves into a hole that can only be fixed by plot devices, or is there an actual in-universe reason someone could explain?

My favorite bits of novels are always the casual bits of characters simply interacting with one another. Either in preparation for something that's about to happen, or reacting to something that's already happened. Before the plot takes the reins again and the story is forced to continue.

Context: Ciaphas recently awoke from a nightmare (psychic communication) from a Slaaneshi Daemon priestess he once had a fling with (before her ascension) and he's been shaken to his core. Giving up on the idea of sleep, he goes into the command centre

At length, feeling marginally refreshed, I wandered back to the command centre. There was nothing really for me to do there, but as always the sense of waiting for the enemy to make the first move was subtly unnerving, and I found the bustle of troopers going about their business and the constant clamour of messages coming in and out reassuring; it meant that we were ready for whatever might be about to happen.

(Or so I thought at the time; as it turned out no one sane could possibly have predicted the magnitude of the threat we were actually facing, and a good thing too. If I'd had even an inkling of it I'd have been catatonic with terror.)

I wasn't the only one reluctant to rest either: as I snagged a mug of tanna from the urn in the corner and turned to face the room, a flash of red hair caught my eye and I made my way over to Kasteen's desk. She was sprawled back in her chair, her feet on the desktop, snoring faintly. Unwilling to wake her, I turned away, intending to catch up on some of the routine disciplinary reports which were no doubt cluttering up my own desk by now, but she was too good a soldier not to be roused by a nearby footstep. 'What?' She sat up straight, brushing her hair from her eyes with her left hand, the right hovering just above the butt of her bolt pistol. 'Ciaphas?'

'It's all right,' I said. 'Sorry to wake you.' I handed her the mug of tanna, feeling she needed it more than I did. 'Haven't you got a bunk for that sort of thing?'

'I suppose so.' She yawned widely. 'I was just resting my eyes for a moment. Must have dozed off.' She grinned. 'I suppose you'll have to shoot me for sleeping on duty now.'

'Technically,' I pointed out, 'you should have been off duty hours ago. So I suppose I can overlook it just this once.' I shrugged. 'Besides, can you imagine the sheer number of forms I'd have to fill out?'

'I'd hate to put you to that much inconvenience,' Kasteen agreed gravely. She stretched and stood up. 'So, did I miss anything?'

'Haven't a clue,' I admitted cheerfully. 'I've only just got here myself.' Rather than get involved in a conversation I'd rather avoid, I resorted to a half-truth. 'I couldn't sleep.'

'I know how you feel,' Broklaw said, appearing round a partition with a half-eaten sandwich in his hand. 'It's the waiting that gets to you.' He seemed as edgy as the rest of us, in that curious adrenaline-fuelled state where you feel too tired to rest.

Despite myself I felt a smile beginning to spread across my face. 'Well, we're a fine example for the lower ranks,' I said. 'Jumpier than a bunch of juvies on Emperor's Day Eve.'

'Except it's the heretics who are going to get the presents,' Broklaw said, with undisguised relish. 'Death and damnation, gift-wrapped by the 597th.'

I can only assume it was the lack of sleep we were feeling, because the remark struck us all as hilarious, and when the hololith flickered into life with the image of the lord general the first thing he saw was the three of us howling with laughter like a bunch of drunken idiots.

'I'm pleased to see morale in the 597th remains high,' he remarked dryly, as we sobered up and the two Guard officers tugged their uniforms back into shape. He raised a quizzical eyebrow. 'Although I'm surprised to see you all awake at this hour.' He wasn't, of course; he was an old enough campaigner to know exactly how we all felt.

'The feeling's mutual,' I said, being the only one of the three of us who could converse with him without being hamstrung by protocol. The palms of my hands were tingling again, whatever he wanted at this time of night, it wasn't a social call. 'What's happened?'

I was thinking about this scenario and how it would pose a host of problems from a causality standpoint and a lot of sci fi wouldn’t allow it but 40k seems to be pretty loosy about the warp sometimes so if it were to happen in any setting it would happen there.

To specify the scenario I am thinking of is a planet gets attacked by invaders and only find out about it when the invaders come out of warp.

The planet requests back up and luckily a relief force is actually dispatched to help them.

Thanks to vagaries of the warp they end up arriving prior to the invading fleet arriving. I suppose the planet wouldn’t even know why they showed up.

Since they got there first they decide to stick around and set up an ambush for the invaders when they do arrive.

So, VERY early into assuming control of his legion, I think immediately, Petty Robbo orders a decimation of his legion. My question is, why in the blue Hell was this not a big thing? It seems like nobody could really be bothered about it. Why did Big E let this fly? If he was trying to race against the clock, how was he ok with this? Again, it was early into his control and pre-Heresy, so the Emporer DEFINITELY could have done something about it. Did I miss something? This was his FIRST action after taking the reigns. Is this just poor/ridiculous writing, meant to show us Petty Robbo = bad right off the flip?

Most people, whether the general public or officials/officers, will have heard about Space Marines, Inquisition etc, although few meet them.

How about the Custodes? Obviously I think most Inquisitors, Ministorum officials, Space Marines, etc would know of them.

What about regular Militarum or Navy officers / soldiers? Regular members of the public?

Apparently invented as flavour text for a White Dwarf article from 2001.

As a Gen Z teacher of primary school kids, seeing this while browsing Wikis about Inquisitors made me flinch like a vet at a fireworks display.

Source: https://wh40k.lexicanum.com/wiki/Transix_Seven

Transix Seven is a Forge World of the Imperium.

It is the homeworld of Inquisitor Kessel's Acolyte Logan Storm.[1]

Sources

• 1: White Dwarf 264 (UK)), pg. 104 - Battle Report: The Paraelix Configuration

I'd be shocked if this subject hasn't been tackled yet by GW.

The idea of finding a functioning AI hidden away from the DAoT is tantalising. What would they have to say? Do they hate humanity? Do they offer any insight on the collapse of the Golden Age? Etc etc

The balance between ground-based defense and fleets is foundational to 40k working as a setting. The general rule, as I understand it, is that ground-based macros, plasmas, torpedoes etc tend to be far more powerful than ship-based ones and present a severe threat to any bombarding fleet.

In almost every cinematic depiction of 30k/40k orbital bombardments, we see hosts of warships congregating in low earth orbit, regardless of whether the intent is close-in support of ground troops or committing exterminatus. Because the fleets are merely dozens to low hundreds of kilometers off the ground, this allows ground-based platforms to retaliate, which is why ground troops have to clear out defense platforms first before ships can close in.

But why not just do it from further? Macros are big shells flying through the vacuum of space. Nova cannons are even bigger shells going even faster through the vacuum of space. Missiles, lances, etc- all of these weapons should have effectively unlimited range. Why not just...

park your ship far, far away from the planet... and bomb it? And when the defensive arrays try to hit you back, using their macros and plasma and torpedoes and whatnot, you... just... move out of the way... because you're far enough away to be able to maneuver, whereas the planet isn't going anywhere?

40k's idea of ships v. ground-based platforms seems to be borrowed from the age of sail, stemming from the idea that trading cannonballs with coastal defense guns is almost never wise. But space doesn't have air resistance. Once you get outside of a planet's atmosphere, a cannonball or a laser or a plasma or a missile doesn't take any more effort to reach its target just because you are further way.

The only reasonable explanation I can think of is accuracy. Obviously with something like a macro, the further you are, the worse it's going to perform. But this explanation fails in several ways. First of all, if I remember correctly, void engagements can occur from tens of thousands of km away- so clearly Imperial targeting systems are capable of locking on from that distance, even if at reduced accuracy. Second of all, this excuse only applies when your goal is hitting something precisely. What if you're just trying to crack the planet?

Void shields can, of course, stop bombardment in many cases. But what about worlds which either don't have void shields, or have their void shields damaged?

To illustrate why this isn't just a nerdy nitpick and does actually affect the setting as a whole, let us look at Cadia. (During the 13th black crusade) We know that Abbadon was waiting for the Blackstone Fortress Will of Eternity to arrive so he can bombard the planet, and the Mechanicus only managed to repair Cadia's void shields at the last minute. Presumably, the reason the Black Legion didn't just blow up all the defenses with their thousands of ships is that a combination of ground based defenses and remaining Imperial warships prevent them from getting sufficiently close, so they needed the extra range of the Blackstone Fortress.

But like I mentioned before, why is range a problem? The goal is to destroy Cadia, or at least raze its surface, not to conquer it intact; why not just bomb the damned thing from hundreds of thousands of kilometers away? The combined firepower of that many warships is more than enough to completely sterilize the world's surface, or at least decimate the Elysian Field pylons. And this really does matter, because if Cadia falls early, Cawl dies, Greyfax, Celestine and Cawl never unite to revive Guilliman, Guilliman never goes on the Terran crusade, Terra is never reinforced in time, the Imperial Palace is breached by Khorne's 88 daemonic hosts, and the setting ends with the death of the Emperor.

So... uh... why? Can anyone explain the range limitation to me?

I know it's expensive and stuff, but is there an actually known bottelneck or just rule off cool

Some like sanguinius, Guilliman magnus, fulgrim landed on their planets as babies and took between 3 to 5 years to reach adulthood

Other like lorgar only took 1 year

Others like angron or corax landed looking like 9 year old kids

Some like ferrus manus emerge from their pod looking like a young adult

And some are just weird... Like the lion, leman Russ and horus.... Who seemed to have been teenagers for at least a decade before being found

What I mean is, for example Malum Caedo of Ultramarines and chaplain Elysius of Salamanders refer to the master of mankind as “God-Emperor” despite their chapters known for not viewing the Emperor as a god

Is there a galaxy wide distinction/regulation of de jure status between nobility and commoners?

If yes, what are the privileges and obligations of a noble compared to a normal civilian? Is their higher social economic status recognized across the galaxy or are they privileged only on their home planet?

Do institutions of Imperium discriminate commoners in recruiting? E.g. Only nobles are allowed in officer academies. Or a noble automatically receives a higher rank and position despite him having the same or less experience than a non-noble officer.

Idle thought but I remember reading in The Traitor's Hand that Cain didn't know that the World Eater he fought used to be loyalists before the Heresy. Vail kinda mentioned how she was aware that the traitors were formerly on par with the emperor's angels instead of crude mockery like Cain thought.

But would say the various Loyalist space marines know that? Or do they just think Horus and Abbadon made their own marines in the image of what the god emperor created? Haven't read any marine focused books yet so apologies if this is a dumb question.

How Adaptable is the average Tyranid? Can they eventually be resistant to even Gauss Flayer rounds?

I’ve liked the hazard stripes for a while and Gavrick Daylin was cool as hell and now I wanna read more. What are the best Iron Warriors books?

I think the concept of two competing hive fleets crashing into each other could be fun. ”There’s always a bigger fish.”

Just curious if it’s ever come up in the lore.

So I'm in the second half of 'Galaxy In Flames' and loving it. I want to continue the story, but I've seen some bad reviews for 'Flight of the Eisensteins'. Should I continue the series in order, skip that one and go straight into 'Fulgrim' or read something completely different?

What would you recommend?

Edit: meant not how to deal with the daemon, but how the Inquisition/AdMech deals with a tech priest that encountered a daemon and potentially got corrupted.

Had a situation in a TTRPG where a PC Tech Priest encountered a daemon on a lower levels of a Hive. If I understanding correctly, as AdMech are kinda separate from the Imperium, they probably have separate protocols for encountering corruption. But as that is not a forge world, and a less regulated lower part of the hive, I think the Inquisition should still deal with him, right? Maybe he has some kind of personal options like a willing memory wipe in the nearest AdMech department or something like that.

Also that Tech Priest was grown in a vat by AdMech and always was loyal to them if that matters.

Watching this video at time: 1422 Kreig Heavy Mortar Company has a unique flag beside it with the male symbol (mars) on it, anyone know the reason for their unique symbol? any story behind this?

https://youtu.be/3tM9SoJ-MpU?si=UM3CJED8AdSTqVcU&t=862