Editing Imperial Knight (section)

== Why Knights are Awesome ==
[[File:Knight Errant of Freeblade Garantius.jpg|450px|thumbnail|left|Knight Errant of Freeblade Gerantius. The Forgotten Knight. Closest you get to the [[The Green Knight|Green]] [[Warhammer Fantasy Battle|Knight]].<br><span style='color:green;font-size:150%'>'''DAT FING IS BOOTIFUL!'''</span>]]
Imperial Knight lore is some of the coolest stuff in 40k. True to both the medieval tradition and epic feel that 40k thrives from, Knights protect the Agri Worlds that the Mechanicus use to supply (and predominantly feed) their incredibly ravenous [[Forge World#Planet|forge worlds]]. These Knight steeds are easier to produce by far than even the humble [[Warhound Scout Titan]] and so can be made reliably, produced almost as an afterthought. So Knights aren't the biggest, baddest, most overblown thing in 40k -- but, they are to the Knight Worlders. The people who live and die on those Agri Worlds, delineated from other Agri Worlds by their designation as Knight Worlds, are all on the technological and societal footing of Medieval Europe. A lot of these worlds look like Bretonnia, from [[Warhammer Fantasy]]. Kings and Queens, Arthurian legend, stone brick castles and skullcapped peasantry abound; fields and forests extend to every horizon without end. Remember, [[grimdark|it's much, much more important to obey societal doctrine than to optimize food output]].

Imagine what someone from that world would think when they see an Imperial Knight. The most agile giant robots the Imperium makes, capable of shrugging off lasers and plasma bombs, tower silently over a field on a world that probably doesn't even have gunpowder weaponry or a Copernican idea of the night sky. The kingdoms of the planet may have their petty wars, but life is dominated by meeting the food and resource quotas of machine-men from the sky, who build and fix the Knights that children and adults view with awe and reverence, like some amalgam of god and monster. These machine-men could destroy entire kingdoms on a whim by dropping stars from the sky. Kingdoms train their nobles and knightly warriors to fight with swords, horses, and hammers. They conscript armies from farming peasants, and use squads of bowmen to kill men at range....except for the Knight pilots. Those who are honorable enough or skilled enough may graduate beyond knighthood, to Knighthood. Someone who takes a bath maybe twice a month and lives by torchlight has the duty to step inside a machine of such power and complexity that the science of the forty-first Millennium proves incapable of comprehending it. Those men are revered beyond their kings, for they are the wielders of magic and death, and are entrusted with more true power than any other man on the planet. Those men fight monsters, murderous warriors from the sky, and even other Knights from enemy kingdoms. Sometimes, when the machine men come down when they aren't expected, the men who pilot the god-monsters must go far away to battle alongside the machine men in their wars. Not a war on the other side of the world, but a war on a distant star, surrounded by machines and giants even larger than they, on a war that will never matter on the strategic scale but still must be fought for that is what their protector, the Master of Mankind, demands and requires.

Imagine the man who has the lifelong job of knowing how to run the Knights, whose sacred duty is to recruit and train pilots. Imagine. A lord or general may give the order to bring cavalry around the left flank, and fire the laser cannon onto the walls of his enemy's castle. Despite his most valorous deeds, his children grow up playing with a giant metal god standing over them, silent and omnipotent, resplendent in livery and gold leaf. These children one day grow old and tell stories not of lords and generals, but of the time when their kingdom's metal giant slew a great beast, or razed an entire castle single-handedly, or ran across the entire world to deliver medicine to a dying king. Imagine what a pilot is to his subjects, or his lords. What legends would be told of them, the men who step inside the kingdom's giant? Their legends are not sagas of inscrutable gods or immortal emperors or statistic-scale tragedies, but of simple, honorable soldiers told by humble, hardworking people centuries after those soldiers are but dust and memory.

If you are not crying tears of pure [[awesome]] right now then you are either have no soul or are [[Sly Marbo]].