Падшие Ангелы⁠⁠

Например?)

"Longest-lived of all the Space Marines","Vastly increased lifespan" - это, видимо, про "красавчиками дольше остаются"? Окааай, видимо я плохо знаю английский...

Within the Eye of Terror, however, time flows differently. Many of the same traitors who howled their praises to the Gods of Chaos before the Imperial Palace still live to this day.

-ХСМ 8ед.

Sometimes my Inquisitorial hosts ask me to explain the unexplainable. Over the course of my captivity I have related the form and function of many aspects that define life in the Empire of the Eye. Within that realm where physical and corporeal laws go to die, temporal stability is another maddening casualty. Time exists only as a fractured idea, different for every one of us.
I have fought beside warriors of the Legions for whom the Imperium itself is a distant memory, even to eidetic recollections. It doesn’t matter to them why the Long War began, nor even how it will end. They have been fighting it for an eternity. It is all they know.
On the opposite side of the same coin, I have known warriors for whom Terra is scarcely a memory at all – the same adrenal rage that flowed in their veins during the Siege still beats through their bodies now. For some of them, chronologically speaking, it has been mere months or a handful of years since their exile began.
As for myself, I have undertaken missions on my Legion’s behalf that took days to succeed, only to return to Abaddon and the Vengeful Spirit to learn that years had passed aboard our flagship. The reverse is also true. More than once I have waged war in the Black Legion’s name for years, even decades, only to find that practically no time has passed at all.
But even this is seeking to define the undefinable. We are speaking of a concept that cannot be tamed with words.
The truth is both simple and devastatingly complex. The truth is that most of us no longer care about time. It means nothing to us anymore. Marking the passage of days and months and years is almost impossible. We fight when we must fight. We kill when we must kill. We eat and drink to sustain ourselves. We sleep when our bodies force somnolence upon us. There is no routine, no harmonious schedule of order. We breathe and bleed and breathe and bleed. There is only existence, moment by moment. You are alive or you are dead.
And that is the truth our Imperial counterparts most struggle to understand. When we lock blades with the Space Marines of loyal Chapters, and they pour scorn upon us for a bitterness that has lasted ten thousand years. When we have little idea which thin-blooded newborn conclave of hypno-indoctrinated soldiers is hurling itself against us with oaths the Emperor Himself would have found insane. The truth is that it is no ancient grudge rolling on through the cobwebs of old, old minds. Our hatred is still hot. Our wounds are still fresh. It has always been this way, and it shall always remain so. Time cannot dilute the venom that flows through our hearts, for time no longer exists.
I could not tell you how many years have passed for me since I first set foot on a warp-touched world within the Eye. Sometimes it feels as though I was breathing Terran air only weeks ago. Sometimes I feel incalculably old, weighed down by the pressure of conflicting memories; things that feel as though they happened to other souls, in other lives.
Time is a mortal conceit, a product of the material universe, and we are bound by no such laws.

-"Чёрный Легион", АДБ

Slowly Hathor Maat descended into the sixth enumeration, letting his disgust ebb as the true genius of the Emperor’s design opened up to him.
In an age of peace, a legionary might endure for millennia or more, but he would not live forever.
The immortality of the Legions was a myth.
Eventually the biological mechanisms sustaining them would fail and the horrifying descent into decrepitude would begin. Traditional life-prolonging drugs and surgery were ineffective on transhuman physiology. Martial cults spoke of a warrior’s legacy as his immortality, but Hathor Maat wanted more.
Death held little terror for him, but the infirmities of age and the weaknesses of a failing body were a constant horror. The artes of the Pavoni had kept him beautiful, had allowed him to avoid the bland homogenisation of features common to warriors of the Legions.
It had kept him unique, but it couldn’t last forever.

-Crimson King, МакНилл. Причём размышляет об этом Магистр Темпли культа Павони(дов), т.е. главный биомант легиона ТС и чувак явно шарящий в физиологии астартес.

возможно , они не знали что есть предел. Тогда самым старым спейсмаринам было чуть больше 200 лет( столько шел вкп на момент начала ереси).  Была инфа  , что уже через 100 лет после ереси геносемя у всех новых спейсов деградировало.

откуда?