#i have a lot of feelings about lorgar and i do wish he was less shit on by the fandom | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

luwupercal · 2 years

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some further notes on Betrayer, less juicy maybe, but fun. i'm gonna do a few highlights here

i actually highlighted two words off this big chunk, "Lotara" and "Angron"

Lotara Sarrin had earned the Conqueror's throne six years ago, just before her thirtieth birthday. Her promotion had made her one of the youngest flag-bearing captains in the entire spread of the Emperor's expeditionary fleets, which in turn had made her a focus for scriveners and imagists inbound from Terra's remembrancer order. They'd plagued her, dogging her every step in the brief period Lord Angron had allowed their kind aboard the World Eaters flagship. When they'd been shipped back to Terra in shame, their work undone — in fact, barely begun — the official notations recorded their departure as [...] Spacesickness. That had been Khârn's idea, delivered with his sly, dry lack of a smile.

The real reason was simple enough: they'd annoyed Lotara Sarrin, therefore they'd annoyed Angron. The primarch had ignored them until the moment he heard Lotara's first complaint. They were banished back to Terra the next day.

i didn't highlight this for any special hoity toity analysis reasons. i just highlighted this because i love both Lotara Sarrin and the fact that Angron actually likes her, not just respects her but LIKES her

going back to Lotara by herself, for one, i appreciate her being in her mid-thirties. you don't get a lot of specifically 36 year old women written the way she is, as far as i'm aware? that is to say, she's very clever, strategically as well as a quick thinker to the point of bordering on impulsive, and she's very headstrong and stubborn and confident, and she's also full of spite, and she's specifically liked because of those qualities and not in spite of them. honestly i wish i had an oc that was like Lotara in this way and *i* get deadnamed as a girl, folks

and returning to Angron in the segue that he actually LIKES Lotara, first of all, again: he doesn't like Lotara in spite of her impulsive and headstrong personality, he likes her BECAUSE of it. which i think is fun as hell, because Angron relating to another human being is fucking swell (& that's what he's doing, no mistake). i also like that Khârn, who is significantly more level-headed than Angron and generally pretty different personality wise, ALSO likes Lotara *because* of her personality and not in spite of it, and i enjoy that he also, i think, has his similarities w Lotara (in that they don't respect or revere what Angron is supposed to be and instead call him out on what he actually is to them, yes, but also in other things i will probably be more qualified to talk about once i'm farther into this book). and generally i just enjoy the idea of Angron and/or Khârn having friends because boy do they need them (Angron moreso than Khârn, since Khârn has friends outside of Lotara and Angron... has Lorgar — but, y'know)

i will say, i'm not, like, wholly convinced on shipping here. i think it's a fun hypothetical, i'm not against Lotara with Angron and in fact i encourage it, but i also think them just being friends is also fun. i think generally their dynamic and Angron actually giving a shit about and respecting another human being and Lotara being validated by the guy who's functionally her transhuman demigod boss, that setup is already fun enough, and shipping can be had or not be had depending on preference.

anyway Lotara Sarrin is great, not because she's one of the boys or whatever, but because she shot a space marine and was validated for it, which is the dream. also because she's 36, which i appreciate; i dunno if other people who are 18-21 like me feel this way but does anybody else feel overrepresented agewise in speculative fiction? it's always either teens or early-mid 20s, and i'm tired. i would like more 36 year old women, you know?

anyhow i'll make another posts and queue it on further notes i have just so we can get some serious analysis and not just me hyping up a military girlboss

#betrayer thoughts #long post

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ask-the-crimson-king · 3 years

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More Stuff from Betrayer

[While on the topic, I want to show the various humans out there a very interesting scene out of Betrayer.

Two, technically, but one that's a bit longer than the other. Image IDs will be provided at the end of the post, cause there's going to be a LOT.

Some interesting insights into how Lorgar views Chaos and a bit about the Emperor as well. I always find this scene to be fascinating, especially since he's borrowed the astropathic choir of the Conquerer to listen to worlds dying across Ultramar while he muses on this.

And then there's when Angron walks up.

Some interesting, albeit a bit morbid, banter between brothers. I do like how Angron even greets Lorgar on the way in, and Lorgar is just standing there stunned. The insights into how Angron views the Devourers is also neat, and it is to be expected at this point. Lorgar trying to argue for them and trying to get Angron to stop ignoring them outright is another neat touch.

The two begin talking of Ultramar, and Lorgar reveals that Nuceria is going to be the capstone for his ritual. Angron asks why, and the following is said:

I like this passage for a few reasons. Firstly, how Angron "dreams" has always been something of interest to me. Because I doubt he ever really gets much rest and respite. Here we get some insight into this, although this also was already expressed a bit earlier. This passage also leads into Angron's recollection of the Night of the Wolf, but I wanted to focus on this.

Lorgar and Angron's "bond" is something that's always intrigued me. It definitely feels more one-sided, with Lorgar seeking for brotherhood that isn't really there, but there are a few moments to make it feel a bit more genuine. However, there is still something missing from these interactions. I can't really describe it other than a barrier between two primarchs who will never see eye-to-eye. Lorgar does, to his credit, try to be understanding and patient throughout, but I can also definitely feel his annoyance coming through at certain places.

In a way, I can almost feel a similar sort of vibe to how Magnus interacts with some of his brothers. Namely with Perturabo in one of the opening chapters of his primarch novel. However, the bond between those two is still very different from the one Angron has with Lorgar; those two actually do have a deep connection, while these two don't. There's a misunderstanding and underestimation coming from both sides in certain aspects; Lorgar in almost sounding condescending to Angron, and Angron still thinking Lorgar a weakling.

TL;DR, Betrayer good.

Image IDs below the cut:

Image ID 1 & 2: A scene from Betrayer where Lorgar is standing and listening to worlds burn. It reads:

Serving as conductor for an astrological orchestra was more taxing than he’d dreamed, though his blunter, more militant brothers would struggle to grasp the finer points of his efforts. Exhaustion left him wondering, even if only briefly, whether absolute peace would create a stellar song as divinely inspired as absolute war. Fate had played its hand and Chaos was destined to swallow all creation whether or not Horus and Lorgar raged against the Imperial war machine, but if what if they’d stayed loyal to the Emperor? What then? Would the Great Crusade have shaped a serene funeral dirge, to play behind the veil as humanity died in a defenceless harrowing?

Therein lay the fatal flaw. The Emperor’s way was compliance, not peace. The two were as repellent to one another as opposing lodestones. It didn’t matter what enlightenment the Imperium stamped out in its conquering crusade when obedience was all its lords desired. It didn’t matter what wars were fought from now into eternity. The Legiones Astartes would always march, for they were born to do so. There would always be war; even if the Great Crusade had been allowed to reach the galaxy’s every edge, there would never be peace. Discontent would seethe. Populations would rebel. Worlds would rise up. Human nature eventually sent men and women questing for the truth, and tyrants always fell to the truth.

No peace. Only war.

Lorgar felt his blood run cold. Only war. Those were words to echo into eternity.

He didn’t trust the Ten Thousand Futures the way Erebus claimed to. Too many possibilities forked from every decision made by every living thing. What use was prophecy when all it offered was what might happen? Lorgar was not so devoid of imagination that he needed the warp’s twisting guesswork to show him that. Anyone with an iota of vision could imagine what might happen. Genius lay in engineering events according to one’s own goals, not in blindly heeding the laughter of mad gods.

More than that, Lorgar sought to keep one thing in mind above all else. The gods were powerful, without doubt, but they were fickle beings. Each worked against its own kin more often than not, spilling conflicting prophecies into their prophets’ minds. Perhaps they weren’t even sentient in the way a mortal mind could encompass. They seemed as much the manifestations of primal emotion as they did individual essences.

But no, there was a wide gulf between hearing them and heeding them. Gods lied, just like men. Gods deceived and clashed and sought to advance their own dominions over their rivals’. Lorgar trusted none of their prophecies.

Image ID 3-5: A series of screenshots from Betrayer. Angron comes into the scene. It reads:

Angron entered the basilica, armoured in his usual stylised bronze and ceramite and with two oversized chainswords strapped to his back. He even wasted time with a greeting, raising his hand in the first time Lorgar could ever remember such a gesture from his broken brother. The Word Bearer tried not to let his amazement show at his brother’s new consideration.

‘Lotara says you stole her astropathic choir.’ Angron’s lipless smile was a ghastly thing indeed. ‘I see that she may have been correct.’

‘Stole is a strong word. “Appropriated” seems much less ignoble.’ Lorgar spared a glance for the skies above the cathedral, as the Lex ripped onwards towards Nuceria.

‘What do you need them for?’ Angron asked. His wounds from being buried alive had already faded to scrunched scar tissue pebbling his flesh, just another host of scarring to overlay the last.

The Devourers lurked behind him, stomping into the cathedral without the primarch sparing them a glance. To be one of Angron’s bodyguards was no honour, despite how fiercely the World Eaters’ champions had fought for it in the first, optimistic years. Angron ignored them no matter where they went, never once fighting alongside them in battle. In their Terminator plate, they’d never managed to keep up with their liege lord, and they were as prone to losing control as any other World Eater, meaning any hope of them fighting as an organised pack was a forlorn one at best.

Lorgar watched the Devourers – those warriors who’d spent a century learning to swallow their pride and pretend they weren’t ignored – speaking amongst themselves at the basilica’s entrance.

‘Hail,’ he greeted them. They seemed uneasy at being addressed, offering hesitant and wordless bows.

Angron snorted at his brother acknowledging them. ‘Bodyguards,’ he said. ‘Even their name annoys me. “Devourers”, as if I’d named them myself – as if they were the Legion’s finest.’

‘Their intentions are pure,’ Lorgar pointed out. ‘They seek to honour you. It’s not their fault you leave them behind in every battle.’

‘They’re not even the Legion’s fiercest fighters, any more. That rogue Delvarus refuses to challenge for a place in their ranks. Khârn laughed when I asked him if he’d ever considered it. And do you know Bloodspitter?’

‘I know Bloodspitter,’ Lorgar replied. Everyone knew Bloodspitter.

‘He beat one of them in the pits, and carved his name into the poor bastard’s armour with a combat knife.’

Lorgar forced a smile. ‘Yes. Delightful.’

Angron’s face wrenched again, at the mercy of misfiring muscles. ‘What primarch ever needed guarding by lesser men?’

‘Ferrus,’ Lorgar said softly. ‘Vulkan.’

Angron laughed, the sound rich and true, yet harsh as a bitter wind. ‘It’s good to hear you joke about those weaklings. I was getting bored of you mourning them.’

It was no joke, but Lorgar had no desire to shatter his brother’s fragile good humour. ‘I only mourn the dead,’ Lorgar conceded. ‘I don’t mourn Vulkan.’

‘He’s as good as dead.’ The World Eater smiled again. ‘I’m sure he wishes he were. Now, what are you doing with Lotara’s choir?’

‘Listening to them sing of other worlds and other wars.’

Angron stared, unimpressed. ‘Specifics,’ he said, ‘while I have the patience to hear such details.’

‘Just listen,’ Lorgar replied.

Angron did as he was bid. After a minute or more had passed, he nodded once. ‘You’re listening to the Five Hundred Worlds burning.’

‘Something like that. These are the voices of the freshly dead, and those soon to join them. The mortis-moments of random souls, elsewhere in Ultramar, as our fleets ravage their worlds.’

‘Morbid, priest. Even for you.’

‘We’re inflicting this destruction on them. We mustn’t consider ourselves distant from it. It may not be our hands holding the bolters and blades, but we are still the architects of this annihilation. It’s our place to listen to it, to remember the martyred dead, and to meditate on all we’ve wrought.’

‘I wish you well with it,’ said Angron. ‘But why steal Lotara’s choir? What happened to yours?’

‘They died.’

It was Angron’s turn to be surprised. ‘How did they die?’

‘Screaming.’ Lorgar showed no emotion at all. ‘What brings you here, brother?’

Image ID 6 & 7: Two screenshots from later in the previous scene, when Angron asks 'Why Nuceria?'. It reads:

‘The metaphysics are complicated,’ said Lorgar.

That had Angron growling. ‘I may not have wasted days in debate with you and Magnus inside our father’s Palace, but the Nails haven’t left me an absolute fool. I asked the question, Lorgar. You answer it. And do so without lying, if you can manage such a feat.’

The Word Bearer met his brother’s eyes, and the rarely-seen palette of emotions within their depths. Pain was there in abundance, but so was the frustration of living with a misfiring mind, and the savagery that transcended anger itself. Angron was a creature that had come to make his hatred a blade to be used in battle. He’d weaponised his own emotions, where most living beings were slaves to theirs. Lorgar couldn’t help but admire the strength in that.

‘We’re going to Nuceria,’ he said, ‘because of you. Because of the Nails.’

Angron stared, and his silence beckoned for his brother to continue.

‘They’re killing you,’ Lorgar admitted. ‘Faster than I thought. Faster than anyone realised. The rate of degeneration has accelerated even in the last few months. Your implants were never designed for a primarch’s brain matter. Your physiology is trying to heal the damage as the Nails bite deeper, but it’s a game of pushing and pulling, with both sides evenly matched.’

Angron took this with an impassive shrug. ‘Guesswork.’

‘I can see souls and hear the music of creation,’ Lorgar smiled. ‘In comparison, this is nothing. The Twelfth Legion’s archives are comprehensive enough, you know. Your behaviour tells the rest of the tale, along with the pain I sense radiating from you each and every time we meet. Your entire brain is remapped and rewired, slaved to the implants’ impulses. Tell me, when was the last time you dreamed?’

‘I don’t dream.’ The answer was immediate, almost fiercely fast. ‘I’ve never dreamed.’

Lorgar’s gentle eyes caught the warp’s kaleidoscopic light as he tilted his head. ‘Now you’re lying, brother.’

‘It’s no lie.’ Angron’s thick fingers twitched and curled, closing around the ghosts of weapons. ‘The Nails scarcely let me sleep. How would I dream?’

Lorgar didn’t miss the rising tension in his brother’s body language – the veins in his temples rising from scarred skin, the feral hunch of the shoulders, no different from a hunting cat drawing into a crouch before it struck.

‘You once told me the Nails stole your slumber,’ Lorgar conceded, ‘but you also said they let you dream.’

Angron took a step closer. He started to say ‘I meant…’ but Lorgar’s earthy glare stopped him cold.

‘They give you a serenity and peace you can find nowhere else. Humans, legionaries, primarchs… everything alive must sleep, must rest, must allow its brain a period of respite. The remapping of your mind denies you this. You don’t dream with your eyes closed. You dream with your eyes open, chasing the rush of whatever peace the Nails can give you.’ Lorgar met Angron’s eyes again. ‘Don’t insult us both by denying it. You slaver and murmur when you kill, mumbling about chasing serenity and how close it feels. I’ve heard you. I’ve looked into your heart and soul when you’re lost to the Nails. Your sons, with their crude copies of your implants, have their minds rewritten to feel joy only in adrenaline’s kiss. Those lesser implants cause pain because they scrape the nerves raw, thus your World Eaters kill because it gladdens their reforged hearts, and ceases the pain knifing into their muscles. Your Butcher’s Nails are a more sinister and predatory design, ruining all cognition, stealing any peace. They are killing you, gladiator. And you ask why I’m taking you back to Nuceria? Is it not obvious?’

End Image ID.]

#warhammer 30k #word bearers #world eaters #lorgar #angron #enjoy some betrayer folks #long post

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