The Year is 40,157. You and your Space Marine Guard patrol have been sent to investigate some strange scanner readings.

It is believed that what the scanners on board the thunderhawks are picking up is massed warp openings but the readings do not quite fit the standard event of this sort. It is feared that this is some new technology of the Chaotic daemons of the warp and that a massive invasion from the Warp could be imminent.

However, by the time your land speeder squadron gets to the designated co-ordinates of the centre of activity there is nothing to be seen. You spread out and wait for your Captain to arrive on foot, sending back one speeder to report your findings whilst you secure the position in case the fear was true of a massed chaos force. As your speeders spread out you notice them one by one appear to disappear before your eyes. You check the scanners on your visor - they confirm your belief - no sign of the scout team either. You hear briefly over your comm. link that there is another rupture in the warp approaching. Then it falls dead. Your gunner suggests that you should fall back to the rest of the force - to find the others and then return. Without 2 seconds thought you agree and start to make your way to the foot troops - heading for the location of the last comm. report.

No sooner have you started to head for the rest of the force when the propulsion systems cut out.

Then blank.

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You open your eyes. Everything has changed. What was once an ash waste is now rolling hills. What was once a baron outcrop of rocks is now fertile forest - trees blooming and blowing in the light winds. Suddenly you notice that you are no longer in the Land speeder. The automatic ejector must have done its job for you are now a good 50m from the position of what appears to be the smouldering wreck of a once proud skimmer. Looking to your right you nudge your gunner in a vein attempt to bring him around and help asses the situation. His limp body slumps in the seat as you tap on his Power armoured head. His right hand sliding off the Heavy Bolter as he falls - DEAD. Looking at the floor you realise the amount of spent ammunition lying around the seats of the ejected cockpit. He must have remained conscious longer than you had and it would appear you can be thankful to him for your life. He must have fought off the Chaos warriors before he died. An honourable death indeed, your brother Marine died fighting and protecting his superior - he shall be remembered well.

Jolting into action you see two small figures coming over the brow of the hill to your left. Reaching down to your waist you go for your bolt pistol which you always carry holstered on your hip. Its not there - it must have been knocked out in the crash landing. You rise quickly - assessing the situation as you rise. You can see the figures more closely now - they appear to be inspecting the crashed Land Speeder. As you take your first step towards them the taller of the two turns sharply. He must have seen you - but you have no choice but to keep running towards them and attack at close quarters for you have no weapon to fight them at range. But before you can take another stem a blue haze extends from the palm of the (what now appears to be) man. You freeze - you can't move - with all of the strength in your power armour you are completely incapable of moving even a finger.

The figures approach slowly - talking to one and other in a strange language and start to inspect you and your powerful form, talking as the go. One is wearing a dark blue gown, with white crosses covering it in a random pattern. He must be about 5 and a half feet tall with a long white beard and equally long white hair. The other stands a mere 4 foot in height. He appears to be very well built - not up to the genetically enhanced standards of the Adepts Astrates but you imagine he would make a fine close quarters warrior. He wears a Brown Tunic and has a Fiery red Beard - which would have reached to the floor were it not for the string holding it in place. The short one lets out a shrill noise and 5 more equally short and sturdy beings come running over the brow of the hill. Never before have you seen such a race - Human in appearance but far shorter, and would appear to be at a technical level akin to the stories you have heard on your war-travels of far distant times, when all the Humans in the Universe lived on a single planet like barbarians. Of times when Orks were not known, and the Heresy did not leave scars on everyone's faces.

They take you away on a vehicle of some sort - pulled by an un-recognisable beast - more akin to an Ork than a Human.

Still trapped in your own cryogenic freezer but conscious a week later. Now stripped of your armour, having had it removed plate by plate over hours of torturous blasting with flame, hammer and the occasional blast from the tall ones hands. If the men (aliens) had the ability to completely freeze the Emperor's finest how was it that they appeared incapable of removing a suit of power armour? Why do they inspect every section so carefully before attempting to remove any more? Why is it they have not left the hut since they arrived there with you a full week ago? Were they Chaos cultists? Was the tall one a powerful psychic, using his powers to control your body? Had they all betrayed the dark gods and as punishment had all technology removed from their knowledge and then left to fend for themselves on this strange planet?

Most of all you wanted to know WHERE YOU WERE.

You had been sucked into the warp by the fluctuation reported over the comm. link before all of this had started. You have been landed on a planet just inside the eye of terror. A planet where high-technology consists of gunpowder cannons and crossbows. Men go to war on foot and with simplistic metal plates as the highest level of protection.

But you know none of this.

You believe you have been captured by a chaos force - and are simply being slowly prepared for a torturous death. Believing that you have no choice, that to die is the only way to avoid subconsciously deceiving the Emperor, you fight with all of your power to access the control panel of your helmet, one of the few sections of your armour to remain on your body. Eventually you manage to gain access and immediately initiate the terminate program. With one massive electrical shock, your helmet completes its duty to you and the Emperor, it has saved you from talking.

But what of the land you leave?

It is a land of Fantasy, of Giants and Magic. A land where Sigmar Rules and Tyranids do not exist. A land where the art of flight was only known to few, space flight a dream. A land of Relative bliss. This is The Land of the OLD WORLD. A Land you just left.

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