u/Specialist_Today_415

Looking to get into 40k, I've watched a ton of lore videos and would really like to start collecting, painting, and playing. I'm currently stuck between the World Eaters and the Death Guard. They both have really cool aesthetics that I can get behind. I've never played or collected before, so I am a bit stuck in a bit of analysis paralysis. Any advice would be appreciated!

Looking to get into 40k, I've watched a ton of lore videos and would really like to start collecting, painting, and playing. I'm currently stuck between the World Eaters and the Death Guard. They both have really cool aesthetics that I can get behind. I've never played or collected before, so I am a bit stuck in a bit of analysis paralysis. Any advice would be appreciated!

New to poetry and trying new ways of expressing myself, any feedback or opinions would be very much appreciated. Thank you!

The stairwell at the back of the old Wonderland Hotel
Was not made for habitation.

It connected the service entrance to the upper floors.
The doors no longer locked.
The lights flickered at all hours.

It had been closed for years.
The stairwell remained accessible from the street.

A man lived there.
He slept between the second and third floors.
Sections of the ceiling collapsed into the stairwell.
Water collected on the steps after it rained.

No one knew his name,
Or where he came from.
It did not matter.

Each morning he climbed down the stairwell.
In the afternoon he climbed up.
In the evening he climbed down and up again.

He screamed as he climbed.

“One more step.
One more.
Another.
Another.
Yes.
One more.”

The next morning brought rain.
Water covered the steps.
The man slipped.
He fell.

The rescue team couldn’t reach him.
The building was too fragile.

The man is still there,
Lying beneath the stairwell.

The stairwell at the back of the old Wonderland Hotel.
Was not made for habitation.

It connected the service entrance to the upper floors.
The doors no longer locked.
The lights flickered at all hours.

It had been closed for years.
The stairwell remained accessible from the street.

A man lived there.
He slept between the second and third floors.
Sections of the ceiling collapsed into the stairwell.
Water collected on the steps after it rained.

No one knew his name,
Or where he came from.
It did not matter.

Each morning he climbed down the stairwell.
In the afternoon he climbed up.
In the evening he climbed down and up again.

He screamed as he climbed.

“One more step.
One more.
Another.
Another.
Yes.
One more.”

The next morning brought rain.
Water covered the steps.
The man slipped.
He fell.

The rescue team couldn’t reach him.
The building was too fragile.

The man is still there,
Lying beneath the stairwell.