Carrion lord of the Imperium of Man | Drawing perso

The Raven's Eye

Yandere Corvus Corax x Remeberancer Reader

Chapters 1

You were a proud remembrancer, you took so much pride within your craft. Although you were chosen from the best, you always had a small bit of bad habit. You sat and recalled a memory from your last boss that you had.

"What is wrong with YOU? You painted that?!" The primarch stood tall over you, anger radiated... from him like the rays from your home planet's sun. His body language was angry, like a cat pacing and ready to pounce. At that moment, you had painted Lion El Johnson in a normal painting showing the fight with Leman Russ. Remembrancers were supposed to keep their opinions about their primarchs to themselves. After all, Konrad's remembrancer's position is always still open.

The painting was an abstract piece, you had tried something different on the behest of another remembrancer. You turned to the Lord of the First and nodded with a grin. 'Why of course my lord I just painted what was on my mind" It was the closest you have come to death as a fast moved out faster than you can see and grabbed you by the neck. Struggling and gasping for breath.. "You dare put that in my presence... you can always just work for another" He applied a bit of pressure. Your mind was struggling and the mentioning of working for the dreaded Haunter made your heart beat faster and faster.. You tried to give gasps for air and made gasping noises... Until you were dropped and coughed. He bent beside you and chuckled. "If you wanted to change primarchs then why didn't you just ask" He gave a crooked smile while turning away. "Pack your bags... I am sick of your parasitic presence on my ship. Thank your stars that you are at least useful."

You shuddered at the memory. After all, reassignment was the hardest bit, after all no one really knows where they would go to next. You had packed up your artists bits and the other remembrancers came by and said their "goodbyes". You had at least the sense to know that they were eyeing your open rank. Still you let up a silent prayer despite the illegality of it. You prayed that you weren't going to the Eighth. Now you were in a modest, yet discreet craft meant for transporting Adminstraum members. You sat in the bunk and continued to paint. You weren't going to give up the new thing. Adjusting the easel, a self portrait often passed the time. It was an abstract thing with heavy themes of darkness, after all. You had always been afraid of things that went bump in the night. Still you were always an optimistic person and maybe a new scenery. You put down your tool and decided to rest, if you were going to die well at least you would go out with dignity.

In your dream, you dreamed of your home and parents.. and our home.. You savored those memories.. You talked to others. Transitioning into a ballroom party that your father had to celebrate planets joining with the Imperium, something was odd. A tall pale man came by pushing through the crowed. He was rather tall for a human and dressed in a black and purple. He wore a golden carrion bird mask. As he moved, the gentle music changed falling silent.

He approached you and got down on one knee and kiss your hand. "Would you care for a dance, Your Highness". It was a polite formality, but something felt wrong.. your heart beat faster.. the man had no eyes to look when looking through his mask. "No thank you, sir." You gave an abashed grin and backed away slowly.

The Man's face and form started to change reflecting the bird mask. You started to run in as the bird-man thing starting to fly while crowing... making occasional dive bombs . You felt his claws miss your back. You dare not look at the man.. the hall seemed to stretch out for longer and longer... You knew that you couldn't keep this up... you saw the hope of your salvation... an alley.. You immediately dived and ducked as the bird man passed by you. You steeled your nerves trying to keep your heart rate down so that IT would not be alerted to your location.

You covered your mouth as you heard a large thump on the distance far away... you gave a whimper as your heart was pounding. You saw him pass by. He had raptors feet with thick strong legs. His wings were something... there was some feathers falling out.. He had long black hair. You saw the man pass hearing his footsteps pass away.. You let out a sign of relief and turned next to see a bird. It was all black with a large beat and feathers that made it have a little "beard". It hopped closer and closer to making clicking noises and bopping its head. You decided to pet the raven holding it close taking deep breaths.. The man was gone. Your thoughts were running elsewhere where you didn't notice the bird changing... It grew taller and when you noticed you were staring into the eyes on a man with a pale face with long dark hair. He was holding you carefully in a bridal style His eyes were completely soulless... He gave a grin and asked the question again. 'You care for a dance your highness?" You let out a scream and rolled over hitting the ground with a loud thud, You got up and tried to run away only to be blocked by a wall of cawing black with viscous beaks.. You turned and ran before bumping into the man. He bent down getting closer and closer as you yelled before.

You woke up.

You took a breath and looked around you... you even pinched your self. You were in reality... and alive. Your sighed and grabbed your sketchbook immediately... Often you drew your dreams, and this was no exception. A feeling of doom that you felt during the dream lifted as you sketch your stalker in the dreams. When you had finished... the man looked like the Haunter but different, a tad bit softer perhaps. Still that nagging feeling still was there, you were always going to be watching you knew this, but it was like someone was just there following you and all of your intimate moments.

Still as you were getting ready, your stomach lurched.. it was a sign that was universally recognized as entering real space. A private vox system had told you that the craft had been hours in reaching the destination. Your thoughts often ranged from "I am going to die to Might as well make the best out of bad situation" After all, if you were going to die then you were at least going to look your best. You went and got out your nicest gown and put on the best makeup.

Leaving the cabin, you went to the captain's quarters approaching the door. You gave a deep sigh and knocked on the door. The captain was a short porty woman. She gave a grin and turned her face towards you. "So Remeberancer Anon! You are awake, and finally come" She turned her back to you and sighed. "We are nearly there now..." You were sweating bullet and thoughts "When is she going to tell me where we are?" The captain as if sensing your ire or distress turned and said. "We are within the docking process for the moon Deliverance."

Deliverance.... not Nostromo

You could have almost kissed the captain. the day was looking up. You saw new life... you were not going to be suffering a long and gruesome execution. Yet in the coming years and later... you would come to realize.

"Maybe you should have gone to Nostromo."

After the meeting with the captain, and with the feeling of new life on your mind. Immediately you went back to your quarters and packed up your belongings. Even though the serfs would handle most of the movement of the gear, you did not really like people messing with your art supplies. You sighed...recalling the brief close up of the moon. The dark side was full of light despite the empty surface, mining most likely. However, other side of the moon, that was intriguing. There stood a tall black tower, there were also other buildings around it. You sat down on the bed and decided to give a quick sketch of the tower. After all, it was your first things you have seen on the moon. After some time, you felt the ship lurch forward suddenly. Getting up, you went back to accompany the captain. Looking out you noticed that you were underground with lumens that flickered occasionally. The captain approached you giving a gentle bow. "Sorry, Remembrancer but this is standard protocol, we have to get checked in." You gave a pacifying nod trying to not to let the terror show in your face. At least back with the other boss, you could at least make out what was some resemblance of "up" but here... one wrong move, could lead to your doom. You felt your heart pounding, so you decided to thumb through your sketches in order to pass the time while the captain rushed around trying to get the clearance codes and accesses. Despite having prior knowledge of your arrival, there was always some menial that HAD to be on some power trip.. continuing to thumb through the sketches calming down. That was until you reached called Haunter (?). The one drawn after that horrible nightmare... you looked at it with clearer detail. You felt your heart start to race again... no this cannot be right.. you took deep breaths. What was your subconscious trying to tell you about this man? Putting those thoughts on the back burner and noticing the captain cursing out someone on a vox com link. Soon you would get out of this underground hell...the captain came over to you and gave a grin showing slightly yellowed teeth. "Good news Remembrancer! We have been expedited and soon we will reach the RavenSpire Quickly!" You raised an eyebrow... "The RavenSpire?" The captain nodded calling over a servitor that spoke in a robotic voice.

The servitor showed a holo-vid of the primarch. You stifled a gasp and shook your head.. no.. it couldn't be. The captain waved its hand in front of the Servitor in order to shut it off. AS she did so the ship surged forward, and landed with a flourish. The captain gave a chuckle. "That's our cue rememberancer." You gave a jaded nod.. while looking at your sketchbook at the portrait of Haunter (?). Erasing the title you wrote with a shaky hand, yet in pretty calligraphy. 'Corvus Corax' Getting up and walking with the captain and approaching the shuttle door.. the door opened with quiet ease and inward marched two Space Marines... They dawned black armor and on their right showed their Legion insignia... it was a white bird that was painted on them. The marines matched in and said with a accented High Gothic "The delays had been for too long. Lord Corax demands to see them" the Marine pointed a power glove towards you. "Come with us." "Do not worry" The other said, "Your luggage will be transported to your quarters during your meeting with Lord Corax" You held your sketchbook close to your chest and gave a long lingering glance to the captain.

You followed the Marines.. you were curious about everything and taking in the surroundings. The Ravenspire...the Marines marched through a large feasting hall decorated with trophies and skulls. There were scattered groups of Marines taking breakfast. You made a mental note and decided to sketch that part of the Raven Spire. You were secretly relieved that you had decided to dress very well. After all, first impressions of primarchs are make or break. Mostly break. Though, you wondered... why Corax and not the others? Still, at least it wasn't the Phoenician. In the start of your career, you remember getting a scathing review about your art that bordered on unnecessary. You were fuming, but your training had made you keep it to yourself. You shook out the memory as the Marines marched you to a large elevator. they stepped in first and indicated you follow. You stepped in, as one of the marines pressed a button and spoke clearance words. The elevator started to move upwards with smoothness. Eventually, the elevator paused after a long awkward silence. The Marine gave a gesture. 'Welcome to the Eirye.' They stepped out and you followed. You blinked trying to adjust your eyes to the darkness... You clutched the sketchbook close to your chest saying an olden chant that you said in your home language... to steel your heart. You certainly didn't want to embarrass yourself in front of the primarch. Stepping forward, you nearly bumped into a giant man. So this was him. He was much larger than the marines that accompanied you. His face was framed with long sable hair that fell to his shoulders,his face looked chiseled from marble set with obsidian eyes for frames. Yet on closer inspection, there was no whites in his eyes. His face was sharp and wired with a small line, indicating a frown. He was dressed in a modest black tunic with embroidered white edges. Tall and wiry which was an oddity unlike, like most primarchs, you knew that he had power behind every movement. Around his neck, was a simple cord with a skull? It was birdlike, and yellowed with age. You took a small step back, as the giant man bent down at the waist. "So you are Rememberancer Y/N correct?" His face didn't change. You nodded and gave a shaky grin. "Yes My lord." He gave a approving nod and turned and walked into his studio. Taking this a cue, you followed him into a study. It was huge, your eyes could barely take in everything. It was a curricular room in thick stone. Around the edges of the room were many book shelves that were stuffed with parchment. Interspersed between each book shelf was a large door, you were curious about where each door went.

Corax walked to a desk where stacks of paper work were placed haphazardly. He sat down and indicted a spot in front of him. "Pardon the mess." He was already behind schedule, and unfortunately this meeting would have to be short. He saw the Remembrancer and bent down at the waist to inspect them better. To be honest, he was relieved that he was able to acquire this precious Remembrancer. He shook his head at that. No, they were just the standard. He internally had went through their artwork, and found something that was refreshing truly compared to the others. Honesty. He saw their recent work, that had gotten them removed from the Lion's presence. Corax, personally, had always respected the Lion. He always had been loyal to their father, but still he was rather touchy on his ego. A lot of his brothers were including himself... he admitted with a sigh. He turned back to the Remembrancer. They were sweating buckets, he honestly wanted to try to calm them down and assure them that they would be alright, and that they were in no danger. However, a different part of his brain whispered. "They're here for mocking a primarch, plus you can use this to your advantage to keep her in line..." He dismissed that thought with a careless flick of his hand. He turned back to the Remembrancer "I am keen that you bought your sketchbook with you. Do you mind handing it over?"

You heard the hidden undertone. You sheepishly handed over the sketchbook over with a nervous hand. You gave a grin trying to ease your racing mind, watching as Lord Corax flipped through the book methodically, yet he stopped on a page and his mostly neutral expression changed in a blink to a small frown. You started to feel a tad bit nervous...what if he didn't like any of it? You had gotten so far now, and he to denounce or even worse... send you to HIM. You gave a tiny shudder. Your training was going to waste here... you mentally chastised yourself. Why were you acting in this manner?! You were so out of it.. you didn't notice that the primarch had placed the sketchbook on the table. Corax gave you a gentle look. "Remembrancer Y/N?.. You are free to go. Commanders Andolus and Kuis will escort you to your quarters. " At those words, it seemed to break your spell. You grabbed your book and took a look around... maybe you would sketch this later. The primarch remained at the desk still working on paper, you knew that he was watching you more intently than you would have liked.. But it was no matter.. At least you live for another day.

Corax as soon as he heard the elevator leave his private chambers. He sighed taking a momentary pause. He called up the recent sketch of himself... it was oddly perfect. But why. But something really set him off... the original title of the piece. He was not and will never be like his brother. His frown deepened a little bit as he felt a tad bit of shame, as he watched the newest remembencer go. Why? Emotions and convoluted feeling always ended up in disaster, specifically with someone of his magnitude and rank. After all he had read so many stories of slave masters use their power to abuse others to get their way. He felt something boil up before taking a deep breath. Not here. Not now. There was endless work he needed to do so that his legion missions can be completed with efficiency.

In the meantime, you alongside with your Marine escorts had arrived in your room. It was very much lavish in comparison to the recent places you had been staying in but very utilitarian. In the room had a large bed, alongside with a dark covered nightstand. Across the room was a window that had long black drapes. Not like you would ever be closing those curtains anyway. You stepped into the room after bowing to the guard. Entering the room, you noticed to your right a second door, stepping foot was a washroom, with a shower. You were shocked. Very few people were allocated such a function and you felt rather honored in that regard. The room was black as per standard with a sink, toilet and shower. Still, as you heard them trudge away.. you took the sketchbook that you had and walked over to the bed.. Tomorrow was going to be your first day and well, you needed sleep at the very least. You prepared for bed, trying to adjust to planetary jet lag You climbed into the bed and before you knew it. You were asleep.

Strange New World's Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Warhammer 40,000, the musical [audio not found].

This is from a lovely and very, very thinky Discord conversation. Thank you, guys! There's more thoughts I need to get out of my head, specifically because I've hit my personal limit of what I think the Federation can get away with as a utopia, and also because I didn't want to bore a server full of trekkies with my 40k thoughts.

TLDR: I've often said that when the fridge logic hits, ENT becomes better than what the writers intended. I think SNW has the opposite problem: When the fridge logic hits, it hits me with a spiky baseball bat. Everything I didn't like is under the cut, don't go there if you want to avoid it.

Here's the intro to the Eisenhorn omnibus, the oldest Black Library book I could reach on my shelf. I'll quickly transcribe the parts I've highlighted, explain what I love about it, and then I'll get right back to what it has to do with Strange New Worlds.

===

"For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. [...] He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die. [...] But for all their multitudes, [the vast armies of the Imperium] are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants -- and worse. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. [...] Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war."

===

Fun Fact: This is where "grimdark" in speculative fiction comes from! Thanks, The General Situation of Northern England in the mid-80s!

So, it all starts with a soul-eating machine. The soul-eating machine kills ~ 1,000 people per day. It is the only way in which humans get to go faster than light, because the not-quite-corpse and soul-eating machine arrangement is basically a lighthouse for hyperspace.

The Imperium is living in the shadow of a great, bright, and optimistic past. It came out of an advanced civilisation that had gone through many destructive wars on Earth. The Emperor was a man of science and reason and wanted humanity to live in prosperity, unhindered by wars or prejudice. He abolished religion in favour of humanism. He wanted to build a utopia for all mankind. Absolute dogshit parent though.

Ultimately, he built the soul-eating machine to justify the utopia, and when he wasn't in a position to object, his successors strapped him in and slapped the go button. Utopia postponed, blame those damn heretics/mutants/aliens.

That was the decision that led to the grim dark future without escape. Do you dare *not* fed the soul-eating machine? Do you dare unplug the not-quite-corpse? It's how it has always been. It could be worse. It's every single wrong one human could possibly inflict on another for everyone, for ever. It could be worse. It'll never get better. It steadily gets worse. It could be worse. It's always two minutes to midnight and no sacrifice ever stopped the clock from ticking. It could be so much worse without the soul-eating machine.

It is unbearably bad.

By contrast, here is an excerpt from the Charter of the United Federation of Planets, as seen on Voyager (or Memory Alpha in my case):

===

"We the lifeforms of the United Federation of Planets determined to save succeeding generations from the scourge of war, and to reaffirm faith in the fundamental rights of sentient beings, in the dignity and worth of all lifeforms, in the equal rights of members of planetary systems large and small, …"

===

So Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow had a Starfleet security officer who was ready to sacrifice her career only two episodes ago in order to reunite a little girl with her parents. She goes back in time to stop an unknown event that leads to the destruction of Earth. She is confronted with baby Hitler who lives in a vague yet menacing government(?) bunker in Toronto and tells him he is *exactly* where he needs to be.

*record scratch* Sorry. That was a bit flippant. So again, from the top:

La'an travels back in time, with Sam Kirk's brother from a different timeline. She is reluctant to open up to him because of her family trauma (separate & discrete from her childhood trauma), but notorious charmer James T. Kirk (from the USS Iowa, not to be confused with James T. Kirk from Iowa, US) helps her out of her shell. They realise that someone is trying to prevent the Eugenics Wars, having already successfully delayed them until 2023. Deciding that the Eugenics Wars were the one and only factor that led to the United Federation of Planets, La'an and Kirk then decide that they must make sure the Eugenics Wars happen at any cost.

(They do not know that the one and only factor leading to the formation of the United Federation of Planets were the Vulcans witnessing humanity's first FTL flight, nor that Zefram Cochrane was motivated by greed to build the warp 1 engine.)

They find Khan Noonien-Singh in the secret Toronto bunker of the Noonien-Singh Institute, a vague yet menacing organisition with unspecified goals. Khan expects La'an to kill him, but instead she hugs him, tells him he is exactly where he needs to be and leaves him alone in his bunker slash prison question mark.

*record scratch* I mean, La'an goes through quite some emotional distress once she realises that the fate of humanity and all Federation members rests on her shoulders, and that restoring the Iowa, US timeline means killing Kirk from the USS Iowa timeline (and, presumably, everyone else from that timeline, but we're not worried about them).

(They're not aware that there is already an alternate timeline in which James T. Kirk was born on a spaceship that is happily co-existing with the Iowa, US timeline).

La'an is even further distressed when she is faced with the choice of killing Khan and preventing the Eugenics Wars and WWIII, but realises that she can absolutely not kill an innocent child. She tells the innocent child he is exactly where he is supposed to be before leaving him with a loaded gun in a top secret, vague yet menacing bunker in a room that would be declared unfit as a human habitat BY THE UK because it doesn't even have a window.

*record scratch* I mean, La'an saves baby Hitler, gives him a weapon and a justification for starting the bloodiest and most destructive wars in Earth history, and she is expressly forbidden from seeing a counsellor about this at the end of the episode.

*record scratch* I mean, a Starfleet security officer leaves seven children too young to make their own healthcare decisions to be genetically manipulated by a vague yet menacing government(?) organisation. The fact that this is to bring about the bloodiest wars in Earth history makes this better, somehow.

Tomorrow and Tomorrow and Tomorrow says that the only way in which the United Federation of Planets can exist is by soul-eating machine. It postulates that suffering must act as the catalyst for the utopia. I find that horrifying. I already found it horrifying when Gerne it.

But this is the second time SNW has strapped a child into the soul-eating machine. Except this time, were strapping *seven* children into the soul-eating machine, and we're not even asking them for consent, let alone informed consent.

This is framed as utterly vital.

It is unbearably bad.

If the Federation can *only* exist if its defenders are ready (if unwilling) to feed children into the soul-eating machine, then it cannot be worth it. If the condition for utopia is the suffering and deaths of millions it *cannot* be worth it. It'll endlessly retread what it has always done, it'll swing from one sacrifice to the next, it'll keep shifting who constitues an acceptable sacrifice, and 10,000 years down the line they'll look at their not-quite-corpse steering a soul-eating machine and wonder where it all went wrong.

The Federation is about the dignity and worth of all sentient life. Everything else must be in service to that.

Don't we already live in a utopian world that builds it's utopia for a few billionaires on the suffering of the many? Does the story about the post-scarcity utopia really have to haggle the ratio in favour of the many instead of going balls to the wall UTOPIA FOR EVERYONE YES EVEN THOSE PEOPLE? Star Trek is the setting that *should* save everybody! Even those people!

Fuck the soul-eating Federation. It's dignity and respect for ALL life or it's self-righteous garbage.

SpookHammer 40k

Me : "Im going to make a Spooky Month Au crossover"

The Au Crossover in Question :

Lore

It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of His inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the vast Imperium of Man for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day so that He may never truly die. Yet even in His deathless state, the Emperor continues His eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in His name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst His soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the Tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat to humanity from aliens, heretics, mutants -- and far, far worse. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods… and the sorrow of The Stars who can do nothing but watch.

Also It's more based on the Tts Canon than The Real one

Characters 

Skid : Human Descendant of The Emperor of Mankind (aka a Sensei… he’s the last of them), found by Lila and Frank when he was a baby during an invasion of an Agri-World led by Velseb The Eternal. Live in The Imperial Palace with his adoptive mother

Pump : Skid’s Best friend and The Son of the Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes and one of the leaders of the Tau Fire Warriors (Shadowsun) though he’s more human than Tau Kitten’s Note: THIS IS NOT FUCKING CANON… about the “he’s half Tau” and The Fact that his mom is a Tau. Live in the imperial palace with his Father who is taking care of the Emperor

Lila : Skid’s Adoptive mother (which kinda make her The Emperor’s Daughter in Law) and a Sister of Battle of The Order of the Ebon Chalice (and later on became a High Lord of Terra as the Abbess of the Adepta Sororitas after Roboute Guilliman came back), have to stay in the imperial palace after finding the Human Descendant of The Emperor (she knew that after The Emperor told her that by using telepathy).

Frank (Nicknamed Franktacular by Boy) : an Imperial Fist who is a close friend of Lila. Live in The Imperial Palace as a request by Lila

Pump’s Father : The Captain-General of the Adeptus Custodes and Susie’s Adoptive Father/Mentor ,  goes by the nickname “Kitten” by "The Fabulous Custodes”. He’s the reason Lila and Skid stay in The Imperial Palace after Lila told him that The Emperor telepathically told her that Skid is his Descendant… with the Emperor telepathically telling him as well. 

Susannah (Susie for short): Shield-Captain of the Aquilan Shield of the Adeptus Custodes and The Captain-General’s Adopted Daughter (He found her as a baby during The Horus Heresy, unfortunately her real parents didn’t survive...). Also treats Pump as her little brother. and probably The one of the two custodes who keep their sanity (the other being her father)

Morgana : The Sister-Commander of The Sister of Silence and Susie’s best friend

John Yarrick : An Imperial Guard Commissar famous for his participation in the Second and Third Wars for Armageddon, in which he twice fought against the Ork forces of Warlord Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka. got a Power Klaw to replace the arm he lost in combat.

Jack: a Kriegsman who is friend with John Yarrick and Patty… which gave him a reason to live

Patricia Azure/ Patty : a Tech-priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus who is assigned to maintain the Emperor’s Golden Throne. Have a collection of “Ancient Technology”

Marneus Calgar : The current Chapter Master of the Ultramarines. have depression due to having too many repeated winning streaks. He is also bitterly annoyed by the existence of Him, Kevin Sicarius

He, Kevin Sicarius : He, Kevin Sicarius is the Captain of the 2nd company of the Ultramarines, Master of the Watch, Knight Champion of Macragge, Grand Duke of Talassar, and High Suzerain of Ultramar and as such no foul Xeno could ever hope to outmatch his legendary swordsman skill also He, Kevin Sicarius is very handsome. Everyone wishes to be great as Him, Kevin Sicarius and the only one worthy to be The Next Ultramarines Chapter Masters which of course will be Him, Kevin Sicarius. He, Kevin Sicarius is an insufferable glory hound who speaks in a falsetto voice, and always refers to himself as "I, Kevin Sicarius." He, Kevin Sicarius, is the personification of everything wrong with the Ultramarines, as he, Kevin Sicarius, flawlessly executed otherwise impossible missions with the greatest of ease and in the most obnoxious manner possible.

Archmagos Belisarius Cawl : a tech-priest of the Adeptus Mechanicus. He is a close ally of Roboute Guilliman, the chief architect behind the Primaris Marine project and Patricia/Patty’s Father Figure.

Ecclesiarch Mancclesiarch Gregor XXIII : Head of the Adeptus Ministorum, has a hatred towards Evermore Karamazov. Very annoyed that The High Lords Of Terra make fun of his hat all the time

Jaune Greyfax : an Inquisitor who was imprisoned within a Tesseract Vault by the Necron Overlord Trazyn the Infinite for centuries until she was released, along with his other prisoners. She’s now the Representative of the New Inquisition (created by Her, Roboute Guilliman and the Emperor). Definitely didn’t slept many time with Saint Celestine 

Lord Inquisitor Evermore Karamazov : Lord Inquisitor and one of the first adversaries to appear once the Emperor began his attempts at reforming the Imperium. Later on became the Star-Everemperor

Boy : a serf that has been commanded by the Emperor to manage the vox equipment for the Emperor's podcast (a podcast with Him, “Kitten”, Rogal Dorn, Lila, Patty, Frank and later on Guilliman). He Look up to Dorn and Frank since he always wanted to become a Space Marine

Mokey Draigo : the Supreme Grand Master of the Grey Knights.

Magnus The Red : The Primarch of the Thousand Sons, and fifteenth son of the Emperor.

Roboute Guilliman : The Primarch of the Ultramarines, and the thirteenth son of the Emperor and now Lord Commander of the Imperium who is helping his father to reform the Imperium

Rogal Dorn (Nicknamed Adornable by Boy) : The Primarch of the Imperial Fists, and seventh son of the Emperor, was disguised as a centurion who was in Frank’s order

Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka : The leader of the Goffs clan, and the Warboss with the single largest army of Orks in modern history.

Yvraine : an Eldar who serves as the emissary for the newly awakened Eldar God Ynnead. and she’s also Roboute Guilliman’s girlfriend

Trazyn the Infinite : an ancient Necron Overlord of the Nihilakh Dynasty noted amongst his kind as a keeper of history and a preserver of artifacts and events on the Tomb World of Solemnace.

Commander Shadowsun : One of the leaders of the Tau Fire Warriors. The true reason why Kitten hated the Tau; it was because Shadowsun broke up with him to fight for the Greater Good, and because the fact she gave birth to Pump and that the custodes kill him if they found out about it Kitten’s Note : OHISWEARTOFUCK THAT WAS NOT FUCKING CANON, SHADOWSUN ISNT AND NEVER WAS HIS MOTHER! …but it turns out not only the other Custodes know about it they actually let him live Kitten’s Note :  NOT FUCKING CANON  and in fact keep their secrets away from the inquisition Kitten’s Note : NO NO NO NO NOT FUCKING CANON

Ahzek Thinriman : the First Captain of the Thousand Sons, a Champion of Tzeentch and the most powerful Chaos Sorcerer of the Thousand Sons Traitor Legion after the Daemon Primarch Magnus the Red himself. He has a strange fixation with "murdering the stars."

Velseb The Eternal : a member of the Emperor's Children, and a Champion of Slaanesh. Slaanesh has granted him a special form of immortality where if the person who slays him feels any satisfaction over the kill, that person will become the new Velseb.

Ignacio Bile : The Chief Apothecary of the Emperor's Children, and a powerful figure among the Chaos Space Marines. He is an expert geneticist, having created clones of even the Primarchs. Unlike most of the Emperor's Children, Bile does not follow Slaanesh, instead he devotes himself to science, and research into the creation of Space Marines.

Thiephus : The Death Guard Lord of the Death Guard Traitor Legion's 1st Plague Company, and the host of the terrible plague known as the Destroyer Hive. He is a Champion of Nurgle, a Death Guard Sorcerer and the former first captain of the Death Guard Legion. Thiephus is also the most feared of all Chaos Lords to command one of the legendary Plague Fleets.

Rich the Betrayer : a Chaos Space Marine of the World Eaters Legion. Rich is the greatest of all the Champions of Khorne, second only to the Daemon Prince Angron in power. He is the avatar of Khorne, embodying that god's indiscriminate rage and bloodlust.

Canbaddon the Despoiler : The Warmaster of Chaos, the former First Captain of the Sons of Horus Legion and now absolute Master of the Black Legion, and rumoured to be the clone-progeny of Warmaster Horus. He is the most powerful Warmaster of all, successor to Horus, and blessed by all four of the Gods of Chaos. Despite being the Warmaster of Chaos, Canbaddon has refused to give himself fully over to the Ruinous Powers as the Daemon Primarchs have, as this would limit his existence beyond the Eye of Terror and push his ultimate vengeance against the Imperium beyond his grasp.

The Emperor of Mankind : The sovereign ruler of the Imperium of Man, and Father, Guardian, and God Man of the human race. He has sat immobile within the Golden Throne of Terra for ten thousand years. Although once a living man, His shattered body can no longer support life, and remains intact only by a combination of ancient technology and the sheer force of His will, itself sustained by the soul-sacrifice of countless millions of psyker. As he now has a text to speech device (which was found by Skid and Pump while looking at Patty’s Collection of “ancient technology” that she “found”) the Emperor is able to speak to his subjects once more… and is very pissed with what they've done to his Imperium.

The Eyes of the Universe : a Old God who helped The large group of psychic shamans to perform the ritualistic form of mass suicide since he’s the one who fused their souls and psychic powers to create The Emperor of Mankind. Got sealed away By Tzeentch, Khorne, Nurgle and Slaanesh and can do nothing but watch The Galaxy and feel sad about its current state… but however before that he managed to put a figment of himself to an alternate universe where a cult worship him which will set him free of the prison and defeat the four Chaos Gods

Birb Watching person: Yandere Corax x Remberancer Anon (pt 1-?)

You were a proud rememberancer, you took so much pride within your craft. Although you were chosen from the best, you always had a small bit of bad habit. You sat and recalled a memory from your last boss that you had.

"What is wrong with YOU? You painted that?!" The primarch stood tall over you, angry radiated... from him like the rays from your home planet's sun. His body language was angry, like a cat pacing and ready to pounce. At that moment, you had painted Lion El Johnson in a normal painting showing the fight with Leman Russ. Remembrancers were supposed to keep their opinions about their primarchs to themselves. After all, Konrad's remeberancer's posistion is always still open.

The painting was an abstract piece, you had tried something different on the behest of another remembrancer. You turned to the Lord of the First and nodded with a grin. 'Why of course my lord I just painted what was on my mind" It was the closest you have come to death as a fast moved out faster than you can see and grabbed you by the neck. Struggling and gasping for breath.. "You dare put that in my presence... you can always just work for another" He applied a bit of pressure. Your mind was struggling and the mentioning of working for the dreaded Haunter made your heart beat faster and faster.. You tried to give gasps for air and made gapping noises... Until you were dropped and coughed. He bent beside you and chuckled. "If you wanted to change primarchs then why didn't you just ask" He gave a crooked smile while turning away. "Pack your bags... I am sick of your parasitic presence on my ship. Thank your stars that you are at least useful."

You shuddered at the memory. After all, reassignment was the hardest bit, after all no one really knows where they would go to next. You had packed up your artists bits and the other rembereancers came by and said their "goodbyes". You had at least sense to know that they were eyeing your open rank. Still you let up a silent prayer despite the illegality of it. You prayed that you weren't going to the Eighth. Now you were in a modest, yet discreet craft meant for transporting Adminstraum members. You sat in the bunk and continued to paint. You weren't going to give up the new thing. Adjusting the easel, a self portrait often passed the time. It was an abstract thing with heavy themes of darkness, after all. You had always been afraid of things that went bump in the night. Still you were always an optimistic person and maybe a new scenery. You put down your tool and decided to rest, if you were going to die well at least you would go out with diginity.

In your dream, you dreamed of your home and parents.. and our home.. You savored those memories.. You talked to others. Transitioning into a ballroom party that your father had to celebrate planets joining with the Imperium, something was odd. A tall pale man came by pushing through the crowed. He was rather tall for a human and dressed in a black and purple. He wore a golden carrion bird mask. As he moved, the gentle music changed falling silent.

He approached you and got down on one knee and kiss your hand. "Would you care for a dance, Your HIghness". It was a polite formality, but something felt wrong.. your heart beat faster.. the man had no eyes to look when looking through his mask. "No thank you, sir." You gave an abashed grin and backed away slowly.

The Man's face and form started to change reflecting the bird mask. You started to run in as the bird-man thing starting to fly while crowing... making occasional divebombs . You felt his claws miss your back. You dare not look at the man.. the hall seemed to stretch out for longer and longer... You knew that you couldn't keep this up... you saw the hope of your salvation... an alley.. You immediately dived and ducked as the bird man passed by you. You steeled your nerves trying to keep your heartrate down so that IT would not be alerted to your location.

You covered your mouth as you heard a large thump on the distance far away... you gave a whimper as your heart was pounding. You saw thehim pass by. He had raptors feet with thick strong legs. His wings were something... there was some feathers falling out.. He had long black hair. You saw the man pass hearing his footsteps pass away.. You let out a sign of relief and turned next to see a bird. It was all black with a large beat and feathers that made it have a little "beard". It hopped closer and closer to making clicking noises and bopping its head. YOu decided to pet the raven holding it close taking deep breaths.. The man was gone. Your thoughts were running elsewhere where you didn't notice the bird changing... It grew taller and when you noticed you were staring into the eyes on a man with a pale face with long dark hair. He was holding you carefully in a bridal style His eyes were completely soulless... He gave a grin and asked the question again. 'You care for a dance your highness?" You let out a scream and rolled over hitting the ground with a loud thud, You got up and tried to run away only to be blocked by a wall of cawing black with viscous beaks.. You turned and ran before bumping into the man. He bent down getting closer and closer as you yelled before.

You woke up.

You took a breath and looked around you... you even pinched your self. You were in reality... and alive. Your sighed and grabbed your sketchbook immediately... Often you drew your dreams, and this was no exception. A feeling of doom that you felt during the dream lifted as you sketch your stalker in the dreams. When you had finished... the man looked like the Haunter but different, a tad bit softer perhaps. Still that nagging feeling still was there, you were always going to be watching you knew this, but it was like someone was just there following you and all of your intimate moments.

Still as you were getting ready, your stomach lurched.. it was a sign that was universally recognized as entering real space. A private vox system had told you that the craft had been hours in reaching the destination. Your thoughts often ranged from "I am going to die to Might as well make the best out of bad situation" After all, if you were going to die then you were at least going to look your best. You went and got out your nicest gown and put on the best makeup.

Leaving the cabin, you went to the captain's quarters approaching the door. You gave a deep sigh and knocked on the door. The captain was a short porty woman. She gave a grin and turned her face towards you. "So Remeberancer Anon! You are awake, and finally come" She turned her back to you and sighed. "We are nearly there now..." You were sweating bullet and thoughts "When is she going to tell me where we are?" The captain as if sensing your ire or distress turned and said. "We are within the docking process for the moon Deliverance."

Deliverance.... not Nostromo

You could have almost kissed the captain. the day was looking up. You saw new life... you were not going to be suffering a long and gruesome execution. Yet in the coming years and later... you would come to realize.

"Maybe you should have gone to Nostromo."

👍

Ah Perry the Platypus, it is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries The Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.

Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse.

To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods. Now BEHOLD! My Grimdarkinator!!!

It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of His inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the vast Imperium of Man for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day so that He may never truly die. Yet even in His deathless state, the Emperor is still trying to get fucking Brexit sorted out.

For more than a hundred centuries...

Someone at Black Library apparently decided that the classic 40k intro (It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries etc.) of the last... idk as long as I can remember was no longer good enough and needed to be chopped up, rearranged, and generally ruined. New and classic versions below the cut, for reference.

If they had added something genuinely new I would have understood - I love the classic intro, but I can see why they might want to add a reference to the Great Rift and Imperium Nihilus, for instance.

They didn’t do that.

Not a peep about the Fall or Cadia, the Great Rift, or Guilliman. Just the classic intro awkwardly rearranged. The sole purpose apparently to have the final line be “in the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.”

Classic

It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die.

Yet even in His deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor’s will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. Yet for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat of aliens, heretic, mutants - and worse.

To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future, there is only war. There is no peace among the stars, only and eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.

New

For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind. By the might of His inexhaustible armies a million worlds stand against the dark.

Yet, He is a rotting carcass, the Carrion Lord of the Imperium held in life by marvels from the Dark Age of Technology and the thousand souls sacrificed each day so that His may continue to burn.

To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. It is to suffer an eternity of carnage and slaughter. It is to have cries of anguish and sorrow drowned by the thirsting laughter of dark gods.

This is a dark and terrible era where you will find little comfort or hope. Forget the power of technology and science. Forget the promise of progress and advancement. Forget any notion of common humanity or compassion.

There is no peace amongst the stars, for in the grim darkness of the far future, there is only war.

What. What are you even talking about? Are you planning a coup?

It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries The Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die. Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.

I hope this helps clear things up.

It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries The Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. 

He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods, and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. 

He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. 

He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day, so that he may never truly die. Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. 

Vast armies give battle in his name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. 

Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. 

But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat from aliens, heretics, mutants - and worse. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. 

These are the tales of those times. 

Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be re-learned. 

Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. 

There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods.

In the grim darkness...

"It is the 41st Millennium. For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor of Mankind has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the master of mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the vast Imperium of Man for whom a thousand souls are sacrificed every day so that he may never truly die.Yet even in his deathless state, the Emperor continues his eternal vigilance. Mighty battlefleets cross the daemon-infested miasma of the Warp, the only route between distant stars, their way lit by the Astronomican, the psychic manifestation of the Emperor's will. Vast armies give battle in His name on uncounted worlds. Greatest amongst his soldiers are the Adeptus Astartes, the Space Marines, bio-engineered super-warriors. Their comrades in arms are legion: the Imperial Guard and countless planetary defence forces, the ever-vigilant Inquisition and the tech-priests of the Adeptus Mechanicus to name only a few. But for all their multitudes, they are barely enough to hold off the ever-present threat to humanity from aliens, heretics, mutants -- and far, far worse. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruelest and most bloody regime imaginable. These are the tales of those times. Forget the power of technology and science, for so much has been forgotten, never to be relearned. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for in the grim dark future there is only war. There is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter, and the laughter of thirsting gods."

Greatest intro written to anything ever... sets the tone for any book ever written out the times and those who live in this terrible time. My introduction to it all was a Dan Abnett book, the I sat down one night and read about the necrons and the elder... the war in heaven... chaos... the imperium... and found myself enthralled with the stories of those who survive day to day in the far future.

Strange Aeons: Understanding the theme of the 41st Millennium

[I just found this article on Faeit 212 and thought I should share it with tumblr for those that haven’t seen it. It’s quite long for a tumblr text post but worth it.]

“With the imminent release of the next edition of Warhammer 80,000 set to grace the tables of gamers in the next few weeks, it seems an appropriate time to take a step back and cast a contemplative eye over this most unique of sci fi settings. In this short article, I wanted to briefly discuss some of the literary and cultural influences of the 40k universe, and to understand what it is that can be said to really define the setting as we know it. To be sure, to offer an exhaustive analysis of all aspects of Warhammer 40,000 could take up an entire book; after all, we’re speaking here of an IP that’s been shaped by many different creatives and has existed in one form or another for nigh on 30-odd years. Indeed, there’d be a very strong argument to say that nothing can truly be said to ‘define’ Warhammer 40,000; it’s a wild collection of themes, aesthetic styles and ideas jammed into one insane, sprawling pastiche. It’s the heavy metal, post punk and glam rock music waves of the 80’s mixed with the cyberpunk sci-fi films of the 1990s, it’s Hieronymus Bosch meets Dune, it’s a universe that can claim inspiration from sources as vast and diverse as Gothic and Baroque architecture to mecha anime (lookin’ at you, Tau) and the history of the Roman Empire, all filtered through a distinctly British sense of ironic humour. 

Nevertheless, one major unifying thread has been the idea of ‘grimdarkness’, a theme that’s been raised to such a status now that it’s become an adjective, a noun and a moderately popular internet meme.  The question is then what constitutes the idea, and what influences we can find behind it.  As an overarching heading, I’m going to argue that what defines the idea of grimdark isn’t necessarily Warhammer 40,000’s emphasis on conflict, but rather the subtler and more disturbing notion of man’s insignificance in an essentially indifferent universe. If we take a trip back in time and look at the know-legendary Warhammer 40,000: Rogue Trader[1], we can see that this has been a theme from the very start. Released in 1987, this source and rulebook represented the first iteration of the 40k universe, and though the setting subsequently received numerous additions and revisions to its lore, much of the core structure would remain consistent. It’s as early as Rogue Trader that we get the first iteration of its famous opener, which captured its bleak themes in two short paragraphs;

"For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods and the master of a million worlds by the will of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is Carrion Lord of the Imperium to whom a thousand souls are sacrificed each day, and for whom blood is drunk and flesh is eaten. Human blood and human flesh- the stuff which the Imperium is made. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. This is the tale of these times. It is a universe that you can live today if you dare- for this is a dark and terrible era where you will find little comfort of hope. If you want to take part in the adventure then prepare yourself now. Forget the power of technology, science and common humanity. Forget the promise of progress and understanding, for there is no peace amongst the stars, only an eternity of carnage and slaughter and the laughter of thirsting gods. But the universe is a big place and, whatever happens, you will not be missed...."

 It’s interesting to trace the number of different inspirations and angles that this tone initially emerged from. One useful place to start is by noting that the creators of Warhammer 40k always saw it as being an offshoot of Warhammer Fantasy Battles, not only in terms of its game mechanics but more importantly in its overall tone. Indeed, in the Rogue Trader book itself it’s boldly stated that 40k wasn’t ‘just a science fiction game, although it’s set in the future … we call it a fantasy game set in the far future … a sort of science fantasy.’ What’s significant about this, however, was that it was fantasy of a sort that was the diametric opposite of conventional[2] genre fare. Warhammer, both in its straight and futuristic guises, was part of the subgenre of ‘dark fantasy’, a reaction against the more mainstream conventions laid down by ‘swords and sorcery’ fiction (associated with the likes of Robert E. Howard’s Conan the Barbarianseries) as well as the titanic presences of C.S. Lewis and J.R.R. Tolkien’s work. In all such works one often commonplace thread was that they created universes that were essentially ordered, knowable and benign, with the most obvious illustration of this being that the concepts of good and evil were frequency depicted as cosmic forces with some sort of objective existence.  Arguably, this stemmed from (amongst other things) a tendency for the early founders of such fiction to use historical myths (such as Norse mythology and the Arthurian tales) as their inspiration, where man’s relationship to the natural world was seen as one of unity rather than alienation and where the protagonists of such tales were heavily idealised.

 Dark fantasy, however, presented a startlingly different perspective in its approach. In place of clear-cut black-and-white morality came only shades of grey, with no benevolent, omnipotent arbitrator to decide right from wrong. Both the characters and the worlds they inhabited became dirtier, more dysfunctional, even downright terrible. If Tolkienesque fiction (generally speaking) took its inspiration from a largely symbolic, even nostalgic, view of history, focusing on the legends of old, then dark fantasy looked at the crueller, actually existing side of the past and humanity. This was the world of plagues, of famines and blighted crops, where people lived short, difficult lives in a world that they little understood and which showed them little mercy. Again, we see these themes as early as Rogue Trader; as it put it, in the world of the 40k universe there exists an;

 ‘almost medieval attitude amongst the human societies. Fear, superstition, self-sacrifice and common acceptance of death are all strongly featured. Technology is present, but it is not central to the way people think. Most common folk see technology as witchcraft- so do the technicians!’

But this emphasis on the petty, unpleasant lives of humans in the 40k setting is only one half of the coin that is the concept of grimdark. For what the 40k universe achieves, which few other fictional settings do, is to emphasise the dark side of scale.  In this regard, one cannot talk of influences on the 40k setting without mentioning the works of H. P. Lovecraft. Lovecraft’s presence looms large over the 40k setting, with the most obvious connection being Chaos, though it’s a source of inspiration that works in a number of different ways. On a purely visual level, there’s the ideas of physical mutation and pulpy, tentacled horrors that stories like The Rats in the Walls and The Dunwich Horror introduced, which have been a part of Chaos ever since the days of the Lost and the Damned and Slaves to Darkness sourcebooks. Equally important in this regard was Lovecraft’s frequent emphasis on the dreamlike and surreal quality of the supernatural, which finds a parallel in some of the original illustrations of the artist Ian Miller, whose crowded, twisted nightmare landscapes featured heavily in these publications. (If this seems like mere speculation, it should be noted that Miller was commissioned to illustrate the Panther Horror paperbacks of Lovecraft’s works in the ‘60s and ‘70s.  But I think it does a disservice to both the writer himself and the 40k setting to only consider this angle. For what marked out Lovecraft as one of the seminal horror authors of the Twentieth Century wasn’t necessarily the monsters of his stories themselves (creative though they were) but his pioneering of the concept of ‘cosmic horror’. More of an ethos than a well-worked out philosophy, it might be roughly said that cosmic horror was a sentiment of seeing horror in vastness; the idea of things in this universe being so large, so immeasurable and incomprehensible that our limited human existence is absolutely meaningless by comparison. On one level, this was a sentiment expressed by Lovecraft’s fictional characters (most notably Cthulhu) and finds a parallel in the 40k setting with the Chaos Gods and the C’tan, terrible beings of such power and infinitude that the entirety of mankind is but cattle to them. But at the same time it’s really an attitude to our existence in the world itself. Lovecraft was writing at a time when astronomy and geology were coming into their own (both of which he studied during his teenage years), revealing the full scope of the cosmos in terms of its age and size, and many of his stories express this sense of despair and realising the insignificance of our brief existence by comparison. And it’s this sort of feeling that only something like Warhammer 40,000 can properly capture, presenting us with a galaxy entirely separated from our own both by cycles of eons and by a magnitude which we can scarce imagine, yet without the sort of up-beat positivity that a lot of more mainstream sci fi usually engenders. If things like Star Wars and Star Trek offer space operas offering high adventure, then Warhammer 40,000 offers us a universe where we are but small blips beset on all sides. To round things off, I think that if there’s one specific area that conveys this most of all it’s the Imperium itself, where the scale and indifference of the universe is reflected in mankind’s own social structures. To me, what will always define the Imperium and the grimdarkness of the 41stmillennium are those brief but sinister glimpses we get of the countless citizens and organisations of mankind’s empire; it’s the hunched, shuffling servitors we see in the corners of the artwork, it’s the description of the teaming, polluted hive cities and the administratums manned by millions of nameless scribes. Above all, it’s the idea that moral, social and political values are totally irrelevant in comparison to a galaxy spanning industrial bureaucracy fighting against its own extinction, where only the forces of efficiency and necessity can hold sway. A piece of art that I think conveys this most is John Blanche’s stunning depiction of the Mechanicus on Mars (see above), where in one sprawling picture we get a glimpse of an environment utterly alien to comforting sentiments; an enormous, arcane landscape where people have literally become just cogs in a machine.” [1] Which we can do thanks to the retro-review over on realmofchaos80s.blogspot.co.uk[2] Speaking relatively, that is

GPT-2 prompt:

It is the 41st millenium.

For more than a hundred centuries the Emperor has sat immobile on the Golden Throne of Earth. He is the Master of Mankind by the will of the gods and master of a million worlds by the might of his inexhaustible armies. He is a rotting carcass writhing invisibly with power from the Dark Age of Technology. He is the Carrion Lord of the Imperium, for whom a thousand souls die every day, for whom blood is drunk and flesh eaten. Human blood and human flesh - the stuff of which the Imperium is made. To be a man in such times is to be one amongst untold billions. It is to live in the cruellest and most bloody regime imaginable. This is the tale of those times.

Output:

But there is another war on, another crisis which is the true end of any life on Earth. Mankind has been living on this one death for over 50,000 years and has known and been fed only by the great powers of the other planets. The Warp is the source of all human power and of all blood in the galaxy. It can only be taken out of the hands of those who would not destroy it.

We shall see how many times humans are consumed. We shall see how long Earth will remain trapped in the Warp to maintain its grip on the Dark Side. The Dark Lord is to continue to live in the Dark Side, in a kind of Hive World as described in The Dark Below, a place which is nothing but a single-celled ruin with its own human inhabitants, but who, in their desperate efforts to keep it alive, have succeeded in destroying the whole universe by killing millions of humans. No, it's not even possible to kill them, of course, because they are humans too, and as such, nothing is available to them to do so. But we will continue our struggle for Mankind's survival, with this fight and with the Emperor as the great conqueror. We must use humanity's resources to keep humanity alive, and if we succeed, to wipe out many of the races which have lived and thrived here for thousands of generations but have never been able to return to life as we did. Then we shall build even more cities, towns, mountains, forests, oceans and so forth. We must destroy the evil empire that has created itself, the Great Power that was created to enslave Mankind. We must wipe out the forces which were created and created to create the Great War. We must conquer the world of Mankind and all its people and then exterminate the world of the bad men, the dark forces which had so long existed, but which have no other means. We must destroy the Great Powers. We shall eliminate those who had no right to rule this planet, and we shall destroy the rest of the universe, with the only hope of wiping out those who have fought before us so long. If the Great One would not intervene, or would be stopped, then he who controls this planet and the vast majority of his forces would be vanquished. And only the very last surviving power, humanity, who will be wiped out. The Great War will be waged against Mankind and all the dark servants of the Dark. The battle will begin when the Emperor is sent to Terra.

Raphael Carion, Lord Commander of the Emperor's Children

“I have wept for my brothers. Now I’ll make the enemy weep for theirs.”

Lord Commander Raphael Carion was a Commander of the Emperor’s Children and one of Fulgrim’s ten ‘Prince of War.’ He and his Company were thought lost in the Warp after a horrific accident involving the ship’s navigator, and only recently reemerged still believing it is the Great Crusade and not knowing of his Legion demise.

He is now the Chapter Master of the Palatine Blades, with a strong motivation to regain the honor and dignity that his former legion had. This leads him to sometimes leaves him torn between what is morally right and what is tactically sound. He is skeptical of the motivations of the Inquisition, however, he is normally seen in the presence of Lord Inquisitor Godiva Iboni.

History

Pre-Crusade

The only son of master duelist Daniel Carrion - a former member of the Chemos’ Callax High Guard - Raphael grew up in training academies and target ranges. As a child, he read obsessively, to the point that jests were made about his habits since most children were focused on survival. However, apparently by something he had read, Raphael became motivated to become a warrior, although he did not initially seem inclined to martial habits. By the age of fifteen, he fought and defeated some of Chemos’ finest swordsmen, soon earning himself a place at the Royal Academe. He soon graduated at the top of his class and had soon gained the attention of Fulgrim.

Raphael found his early assignments, such as guarding the Chemos nobility or garrisoning over the Capitol, tedious but he would perform such acts to the best of his abilities. He would volunteer for the dangerous missions - such as scouting the mining wastes - and soon became a renowned duelist. Fulgrim soon took interest in the young duelist, and when offered a position in the Emperor’s Children Raphael quickly accepted. So began the military career of a young warrior who would come to represent everything that a legionary in the Emperor’s Children should strive to be.

Great Crusade

Enhanced beyond mortal bounds by the blessings of the Space Marine induction process, Raphael became ever more skilled in the arts of the blade. He never tired of challenging his peers in the exercises that their sergeants put them through every day.

Though his confidence and supreme skill might have earned the enmity of mortal men, his brothers in the Emperor’s Children sang his praises in all honesty. Their Legion admired perfection above all else. Before long, Raphael had come to the notice of Lord Commander Vespasian. As the Great Crusade unfolded, Raphael directed his puissant skill towards the goals of the Emperor’s Children on a dozen worlds brought to Imperial Compliance. He was rewarded with command of the 3rd Company. At first, Vespasian saw his faith in Lucius as well-placed. Though the young swordsman was self-serving and cocky, he was never found wanting in the arts of war. However, as he got old the Lord Commander began to worry about the young man’s soul - comparing him to Lucious at times - to the point where he had ordered the 3rd Company to learn from the Crimson Dragons on Meiji.

Time Amongst the Dragons

The Crimson Dragons and Emperor’s Children had always been at odds with each other based on their Primarch’s belief in beauty and perfection. The Emperor’s Children believed that beauty comes through perfection, while the Crimson Dragons believed that beauty came from imperfect, impermanent, and incomplete. Neither Legion could stand the other, but the friendship between Vespasian and Daimyo Satsuma Irou allowed Raphael to finish his training under the Captain’s tutelage - and learn some humility.

Raphael had opposed the perceived exile, viewing it more as a punishment than as a chance to learn. He even voiced his opinion to Fulgrim himself, but his Primarch agreed with Vespasian, who viewed it as a chance to civilize the imperfect dragons. During his studies, his duties included fetching water, cleaning the training floors, sweeping the temple-monastery steps, and meditation. All of which annoyed Raphael, who saw these actions as meaningless or meant for servitors. Irou offered that if Raphael defeated one-hundred Dragons, then he was free to go. With this new found determination, Raphael dispensed of opponents with machine-like motions, convinced with every victory was a step closer to going back to his Legion and the Crusade. Irou proved to be his last opponent, and though he fought like a man possessed, every iota of his being focused upon victory, Irou defeated him with a unarmored and with a bamboo training sword. Unsure how he was defeated, Raphael challenged Irou to a rematch and was defeated one-hundred times. Feeling depressed over his defeats, Irou reassured Raphael that he fought like a true son of Fulgrim and now he could start improving himself. From then on Raphael took his training more seriously.

After tutelage was with the Crimson Dragons was completed, Raphael came back a changed man. He portrayed a calmness and humility that was rarely seen in the Third Legion, gaining favor with Vespasian and shared his training regiment with the rest of his company.

Lost to the Warp

After aiding the Iron Hands with the destruction of the Diasporex, Raphael was awarded the rank of Lord Commander and given a place within Fulgrim’s personal retinue. Though he found the whole process ridiculous and divisive, Raphael continued to follow his Primarchs orders. He and his great company aboard the Strike Cruiser Divine Wind were sent aid Imperial Forces on Salusa Unus against the Dobhar Chu - or Water Dogs in low gothic - but never arrived. Once they entered the Warp, the Divine Wind and accompanying fleets were trapped. All hope was given up and Raphael’s name was entered on the roster of the Legion’s fallen and his statue placed in the Gallery of Heroes on Chemos.

Reemergence

Yet Raphael, his company, and fleet were not so dead as any supposed. Due to the fickle tides of the Warp, the Divine Wind and accompanying fleet returned to normal space nearly a ten thousand Terran years later, in 000 M42. However, the situation that the Emperor’s Children found themselves in had dramatically changed since they left. They located a Retribution-class battleship, the Litany of Hatred, with a contingency of Raven Guard on it, that was being attacked by unknown forces. These forces were the Angels of Ecstasy warband who thought that the emergence of an Emperor’s Children fleet would spell doom for the trapped Imperial forces. This all changed when the Divine Wind brought its entire firepower down on the Angels, exterminating every last one.

After every remaining chaos tainted ships had been decimated, Raphael ordered an open communication with the Imperial battleship. He was expecting to hear a friendly, though annoyed, voice of one of Raven Guard. What he did not expect was the voice of Inquisitor Godiva Iboni of the Ordo Hereticus, who ordered them to stand down and parley with her on the deck Litany of Hatred. Raphael agreed to these terms, still believing he was dealing with friendly forces and a simple human who believed that she had a self-inflated position.

Aboard the Litany of Hatred, however, Raphael and his closest legionaries found that this mere human held more power than they once thought. Her Raven Guard retinue listened to her as they would a captain, and it astounded Raphael that the proud and independent sons of Corax would allow a lowly human, regardless how lovely, to command them. Raphael tried to talk to the Raven Guard by asking them how their Primarch faired, and if Arkhas Fal was still their Shadow Lord or if Gherith Arendi had taken it. The Raven Guard were surprised that he knew venerated heroes of their chapter in a way as if he knew them, and if they were still alive. He even asked if the Inquisition was a fancy title given to Godiva by the Sigilite. Godiva simply asked him what year he thought it was, Raphael answered with 001.M31. Godiva corrected him with the correct date and telling him that he and his fellow Astartes had been stuck in the Warp for over ten thousand years. Raphael believes that to be a joke, Godiva decided to take him to Chemos.

Return to Chemos

Lord Inquisitor Iboni allowed Raphael the use of uncensored Imperial Records on their trip to Chemos. Raphael still found it hard to believe that his legion, a legion that swore constantly sought the Emperor’s approval with every endeavor, had turned away and joined Horus Lupercal in a civil war that resulted in the deaths of so many. He found it harder to believe that his own Primarch had given into vanity and hedonism which affected his entire legion.  

Upon arriving back on Chemos, Raphael was shocked at the state of the planet. Orbital bombardments rendered the once beautiful and wealthy world lifeless, the cities and palaces that were once the envy of the Imperium had been reduced to nonexistence ruins in the attempt eradicate any trace of Chaos from the world.

The remains of Callax had been turned into a grand fortress that reminded Raphael of how the city once looked prior to the gold age under Fulgrim. The green forests had been reduced to black and grey wastelands, dark clouds exploded the world and the shining city of art, pleasure, and commerce where he grew up was a headquarters for the Inquisition. The only recent of Chemos’ artistic culture were statues of heroes that lined the Fortress’s promenade; one of which was his.  

Sorrow and anguish began to build inside of Raphael and his Company, leading Inquisitor Iboni to start believing who he was. However, a harsh cackle came from the ashen deserts; Lucius the Eternal had come to challenge the last Prince of War. Lucious and Raphael had been rivals in the Third Legion, each one trying to best the other to gain Fulgrim’s favor. Now Lucius had found favor with his new God, Slaneesh, and offered the Third Company similar favor if they merely submitted to the Will of the Dark Prince. All they had to do was kill their Lord Commander as well as every other soul on Chemos. Without hesitation, the Third Company refused, which sent Lucius into a crazed slaughter.

The Raven Guard retinue and the Inquisitional Stormtroopers were the first to die, while the loyal Emperor’s Children fought their disgraced brethren. Inquisitor Iboni led her forces admirably, but even her psykic powers proved no match for the mad swordsman. Raphael managed to stop Lucius from killing the Inquisitor, leading to the fight the Traitor wanted.  Each fresh wound had sent Lucius giggling with glee. Raphael bared his teeth, slashing and jabbing as his opponent laughed, staggered and whirled across the decease world like a demented marionette.

Raphael was every bit as fast as his tainted foe. Lucius fought hard to get within the reach of the saber, ducking and rolling with fluid grace. Weapons clashed and clanged in a staccato blur. Though Lucius’ blade was sharp as a razor and blessed by She-who-Thirsts, it could not penetrate the conversion field that Raphael’s Iron Halo offered, and Raphael could not scratch the demonic armor that protected Lucius. When their blades locked, Lucius tried to goat Raphael into making a fatal error. Raphael merely smiled and took out his bolt pistol, blasting Lucius’ sword arm off at the elbow. Time seemed to freeze as Raphael cut away Lucius’ lash, while also grabbing hold of the Blade of Laer - using the ruined remain of Lucius’ arm as a shield against its corruptive power, and plunged it through the once Lord Commander to it reached the hilt.

As Lucius lay on the ashen fields that had been his home, he questioned if Raphael took any pleasure or satisfaction in besting him; knowing of the curse. Raphael sighed as said that under any other pretenses he would be, but now he merely pitied the sorry state that his Legion had become. He turned away from Lucius as his remains were reclaimed by the Dark Prince. Lucius’ master was not pleased.

Raphael ordered the Company’s apothecaries to treat the wounded, starting with Lord Inquisitor Iboni. The dedication and strive that Raphael and his Company demonstrated in fending off their once brother Astartes proved to the Lord Inquisitor that the Third Company was true to their loyalty to the Emperor. In return for saving her life, she would help Raphael rebuild his Company into a full loyalist Chapter.

Palatine Blades

With the blessing of the Inquisition, Raphael has now received fresh gene stock, weapons, armor and new Planetary system to draw recruits from. However, he now has the new responsibilities of serving as a Chapter Master for a newly found Chapter. Raphael had to reorganize his company to fit the design of a Chapter, by making the veterans of the Company into the Captains and specialty contingents. Inquisitor Iboni has been helping with the transition, but there had been challenges which had lead to conflicts in the Chapter. 

One comes from the mandatory Chaplains within the Chapter. These unique units were made after his Company became trapped in the warp, and were meant to serve as spiritual leaders while also preaching the Emperor’s laws as if they were religious decrees. Since Raphael and his men came from a time when the worship of any religion was outlawed, and that Emperor of Mankind had rejected all forms of divinity, he had a hard to adjusting to Inquisition placed Astartes.

Another conflict comes from the existence of the Codex Astartes. Though many in the Chapter will admit that the Codex Astartes is a well written and though tome for military organization, those same supporters find it ridiculous that other Chapters would read it as a holy text. 

The final grievance, and most divisive amongst the Blades, are the inclusion of the new Primaris Space Marines. Furthering an already tenuous relationship with the Sons of Guiliman, many Palatine Blades find the Primaris Astartes to be an insult to them and to the Emperor’s design. Some have openly lashed out, stating there it is impossible that an ambitious Techpriest could out perform the Greatest Human who had ever lived. Though Raphael shares these same views, he has proceeded with the Primaris operations and started to welcome more Primaris Marines into his Chapter. His example had inspired more to receive the surgery, leading to ninety-nine percent of his Chapter becoming augmented. While seeming complacent, his apothecaries have warned him about the rusting nature of the sinew coils, and all Primaris Marines are stripped of a previously held rank or title and given the rank of an initiate. From there they will be under the watchful gaze Scout-Captain Greco Colt and Company Champion Jidaar Ecaz.

The Chapter’s regalia has been changed to pay homage to Third Legion origins. Two platinum sabers crosses on a dark purple field, which matches their armor now. Though an importance is still placed on perfection, Raphael always makes a point that the pursuit of perfection should not cold one’s judgment. The Chapter is routinely scanned for any trace of Chaos by the Inquisition, and Raphael allows it if it means seeing Lord Inquisitor Iboni again.

Appearance

Raphael is seen as very impressive, even for an Astartes. He is tall and handsome, with striking green eyes and brown hair that he wears long. He wears Artificer Power Armor that demonstrates his rank as a Lord Commander, and his own artistic abilities. He wears a long purple and gold cape that would seem to deter Raphael during a fight, but those who have seen him in action say that the cape becomes another extension.

Personality

Like all Emperor’s Children, Raphael was once driven by the impossible desire to attain perfection in all that he did. Raphael accepted nothing less than perfection in all of his endeavors and worked ceaselessly to perfect his and his company’s military endeavors. However, with his time amongst the Crimson Dragons, Raphael’s perception of perfection had changed, leading to a freedom that few in his legion could claim to have. This freedom allowed Raphael to study his legion’s habits more closely, and he became worried with their obsession for perfection. He began to teach the Third Company his knowledge that he acquired. This began to alienate Raphael from the other Companies, but it allowed him to create a stronger bond with his legionaries.

Raphael could still be cocky, arrogant, and snarky, even after his time with the Crimson Dragons. Part of this comes from his own martial abilities, while also being from another time. He has little interest in factions outside the Adeptus Astartes, and would rather do business with factions he knows.  During the parley that followed the battle against the Traitorous Space Marines, Raphael walked past Inquisitor Iboni and engaged the Raven Guard who were escorting her.

Though his legion had turned to Chaos, Raphael and his Company remain loyal to the Emperor and the Imperium of Man.

Wargear

• Artificer Power Armor

• Charnabal Sabre - an elegant and deadly melee weapon that relies on speed and dexterity rather than brute force for its lethality. Though Raphael is astute in all manners of blades, he preferred the dexterity of the sabers over the clumsier power weapons.

• Master Crafted Bolt Pistol

• Iron Halo of Invulnerability - A gift bestowed to him upon becoming a Lord Commander and one of Fulgrim’s Prince of War. The Halo is said to offer “perfect protection from any harm.” Whether this is true or not, Raphael has shrugged off blows that would have felled other opponents.

So another OC for the blog, yay.

The reason I created Raphael was because I drew inspiration (inspiration = copied) from @fuukonomiko with Karimah and Magnus from her story “Tainted”, and @sisterofsilence for Vallerie, Sobek and Thrax. The idea of a member of a renegade legion has always intrigued me ever since the Garro novels, and I thought of taking it to an extreme a bit. @mrsdorn Can tell you how a certain Imperial Fist was stuck in the Warp for over a thousand years, I just had Raphael be trapped inside for longer.

As for inspiration (more like appropriation), Raphael is based on Duncan Idaho from the Dune franchise. Master swordsman who died killing twenty Sardaukar and then kept coming back thanks to those disgusting, little zealot bene tleilax. Inquisitor Godiva Iboni is based on Ikora Reyes from Destiny. A) because she is cool (and that is now-way catering to my Warlock playstyle), and B) she is voiced by Gina Torres who was Zoe on Firefly. 

And for Lucius the Eternal fans out there - why do you exist?! - don’t worry he’s not dead. Lucious Lucius is fine… in general terms. He just happened to lose a good amount of favor with Slaanesh and Fulgrim for being killed by his own blade. By a mortal. Who came from the same Legion as he. And stayed uncorrupted…. Yeah, he’s getting a good, hard spanking from the God/Goddess of Suprise Butt-Sex.

Also a shout out to @crysdrawsthings , I think you would have fun with Raphael and his pretty hair.