unfinished portrait of lorgar aurelian, primarch of the word bearers, circa 877.M30, by an unknown remembrancer

Genefather Cover Art

by Artur Nakhodkin

At last malcador's dream of superhuman big ladies can finally be made Canon. His sacrifice was finally vindicated

Malcador dabbing in the warp rn.

The solid confirmation does show, though, or rather puts a new light on, how funny Big E’s blatant trust and favouritism of the Custodes was.

“But you could make some of the Primarchs women, surely?”

“Mmm. No, no I don’t think so.”

“But the Custodes-“

“No, can’t be done.”

“But surely a little extra effort-”

“We ran out of girl budget. Also Auramite.”

“You can’t be serious.”

“What if, hear me out, we made different armour and coated it in melted down roof tiles?”

“Four hundred quadrillion thrones, Neoth.”

“They could be really nice roof tiles.”

We've been expecting Epic for a while, but to have the box contents all laid out at once really throws into sharp relief the sheer volume of stuff it contains.

bet your fucking ass I’m writing in a homoerotic rivalry between Praetor Pantariste and Shield-Captain Themistoclea

Crossposting some Night Lords musings

Some rambling in relation to 40K / 30K [Predominantly around the Night Lords Legion] below the cut-off.

Art from 3rd Edition Chaos Space Marines Codex / Index Astartes.

Something I have come to consider a disappointment of sorts is the missed potential when it comes to the Night Lords Legion.

On one hand, they fill a niche that is absolutely needed to drive home the horrors of the Imperium of Man. Even with the most generous interpretations of the Emperor and his Great Crusade, you have an unsightly blemish in the form of the Night Lords being a useful bunch of self-serving monsters that the Emperor tolerated / was willing to entertain a blindspot for as long as he could pretend Curze wasn't That Bad and they got results. And again that's with the most generous interpretations: The Emperor unintentionally making a Leopards Eating People's Faces While The People Are Still Alive Legion and and tolerating it out of pragmatism. The more common / neutral implication being that he absolutely knew what they were doing [wanted them doing it, no less!] and signed off on it because they shaved a couple years off the Crusade atrocities be damned. The worst that he didn't care whatsoever about it and the only reason the Night Lords were abnormal was that they merely didn't pretend to be what they aren't.

This is a vital niche to fill when it comes to displaying the fucked up society that is the IoM and how even in its "Golden Age" there was stinking shit beneath that veneer of gold. You just... don't get it, for most of the other Legions. Especially in newer lore. GW has spent a bunch of effort to try and make the other Legio more 'human' [despite them being post-human galactic conquerors]. Especially with GW reducing so many other baddies into "lol it was Chaos / possession / insanity". The IoM needs something to have been a terrible blemish that cannot be conveniently blamed on Chaos or One Bad Apple Spoiling The Rest [Curze, quite explicitly, hates his Legion, and in many cases the feeling's mutual outside a respect for his capacity to do and enabling of Horrible Things].

But on the other hand. On the other hand. It writes itself: Really? Really? We are supposed to take it at face value that Nostramans are just built different, pay no mind to the sheer coincidence the moment Curze ceded Nostramo to the Emperor's Great Crusade they slid immediately back into the same lopsided government he had overthrown, and that The Administratum Couldn't Do Anything About It the inequalities just rapidly reasserted themselves crime magically skyrocketed after the removal of one single person, and on top of this the Societal Undesirables just coincidentally kept filtering into the Legion?

You have a world - no, I apologize: Explicitly an entire system: Night Lord lore explicitly mentioned in the old Index Astartes how he found out from a system's prosperity soaring - that in the span of a singular generation had its inequalities removed by the removal of every single despot that Curze didn't think he could press his thumb down on hard enough to play nice in the new system, and with Curze's removal the Administratum... magically couldn't do the same job as one person to keep at least one star system from falling back into the same groups' hands? And for that matter practically everyone that system recruited after the first generation was a bunch of horrific baby-eating self-serving murdering societal rejects who had no concern for anyone beyond He Himself And Him?

While 40K absolutely needs somebody to show that the Great Crusade's shit stunk too, that it was an interstellar bunch of murderers and ne'erdowells draped in the legitimacy and glory of a gilded despot, there was just as much potential to use them as a stepping stone of "Gee. It sure is convenient that the Imperium Did Its Best but Some People Are Just So Bad that despite giving them everything they could have ever wanted they still bit the hand that fed them". Or, for that matter, to introduce Traitor Marines who are just. Like. People who grew up watching their star system abolish economic and social inequalities. Dared to buy into the hype of such spreading through the galaxy. And then watched everything crumble around them. With stark division between those whom this broke, those who in desperation [for better or worse] threw their lot in with the Chaotic Powers... and those who just keep the legend of the original Night Haunter alive. Astartes who prowl the edges of Imperial Space and just.... topple the Noble Houses. Convince planets to throw off the yoke of Imperial Rule, whether in good faith or even just to try and make ever more fires for the IoM to have to put out [and thus increasing the odds of something slipping through the cracks or the inadequacies of the system catching up with it].

Adding onto this with some musings from other posts I fully understand that Curze's brutality was brought about by excessive and violent terror. Even the most benign interpretations of his rule over Nostramo pitch him as a murderous vigilante prone to violent fits. But that's fine! There's layers to how somebody like Curze could still call out the Emperor and other Great Crusade's architects / 'greatest' participants precisely and accurately. How Corax seemingly [in newer lore] likewise abandoned their revolutionary leans and within a matter of generations was actively reinforcing Deliverance's former system of exploitation, the two really being mirrors / foils for one another. Works have already established that Curze hates what he and his Legion have become [that the feeling is mutual] and that whatever noble intentions he might have had at any one point he's just as deserving of an executioner's blade well before the Heresy.

I guess I'm just disappointed that the Night Lords were reduced to a singular, unironic and straight-faced hat while every other Legion is given kiddy gloves to go "And that's why Chaos ruined everything". It diminishes the horrors of the Great Crusade, goes uncomfortable places with the idea of Some People Are Just Born Criminal And It Can Be Measurably Tracked In The Genome, and removes the potential for several thematic hooks.

How the Astartes see themselves:

"They regarded Amit the way all humans regarded him, with their pupils dilated at his bloodstained beauty and their hearts racing with the threat of his armoured physicality."

"Amit was hardly alone in believing the Astartes were another species to the original genetic knotwork of humanity."

How the Custodians see them:

"An adequately proficient warrior, for a Space Marine. Human voices, human customs. The Legio Custodes need no such rituals, no bold evocation to summon up courage."

To clarify my point, let me also show you some visuals.

I think I have asked this before but, what's the ryu number of the infamous First Chaplain of the Legio Astartes Word Bearers Erebus?

Erebus does not have a Ryu Number.

I don’t like the Legio Custodes hype tbh

Yeah have them be scary, have them able to take on a squad of Astartes and come out the other side, fine. But when people are saying “Oh there’s not a SM in existence who could reliably kill a mook Custodes, not even Abbadon or Sigismund” it’s a bit tiresome. Especially when the SM champions are often shown taking on the worst the galaxy has to offer; if Ragnar can spite a Daemon Primarch as a newbie and Calgar/Dante can survive the Swarmlord, they can damn well take on a few Bananas in Pyjamas

Because otherwise you get a take where people unironically claim the Traitor Legions would have never existed if only one Custodian got off their ass when the Black Templars went on their crusade, and that the Primarchs’ powers were irrelevant because 2-5 of the golden boys apiece could take them…when the logical assumption is “that trivialises much of the setting and breaks the scaling over its knee, so it’s probably not true.”

Like yeah they’re super badass, nothing wrong with that, but among the ridiculously varying portrayals of 40k, ‘my’ one is the one where even a hero of the Custodes wasn’t sure he could take Asterion, and where an Ork or a World Eater with luck or numbers on their side can absolutely take one down if the situation is right. They should be able to cleave through normal marines (or most anything else) like butter, but they shouldn’t be able to laugh at the best the Astartes have.

Prólogo

Mundo Imperial de Lelithar, Sector Agripinaa, Segmentum Obscurus. 2.38 post LCM.M41

Miniar había sido durante siglos un lugar de lujo y poder, donde las élites nobiliarias y de los gremios comerciales de Lelithar y otros mundos cercanos se dedicaban al descanso, al placer, a la negociación y la conspiración. Una isla volcánica en medio del océano, lo suficientemente lejos de las masas continentales como para garantizar su exclusividad y seguridad pero apenas a unas pocas horas de vuelo de cualquier lugar del planeta o los espaciopuertos.

Arremolinadas en la ladera de un cono volcánico inactivo derrumbado docenas de villas y complejos residenciales se repartían en torno al gigantesco puerto deportivo antaño lleno de yates y deslizadores de recreo. Avenidas, grandes jardines, parques, galerías comerciales y complejos de ocio donde la élite imperial se olvidaba de su ajetreada vida o al menos fingía hacerlo mientras continuaba con sus cotilleos, sus negocios y sus maquinaciones.

Pero eso quedó muy atrás, eso sucedía en los tiempos en los que la lejana nebulosa del Ojo del Terror tan solo era una ominosa luz en el cielo de Lelithar, antes de que se convirtiera en una sangrante herida en el cosmos de la cual surgían horrores sin fin. Antes de que los fuegos de la guerra rugieran entre las estrellas. Antes de que las masas de los anteriormente fieles y sumisos ciudadanos imperiales sucumbieran a las mentiras esparcidas por la mal llamada Voz del Emperador y la Plaga del Descreimiento los llevara a la rebelión, a la locura y la masacre. Antes de que la mil veces maldita Cicatrix Maledictum partiera los cielos con una promesa de horror y muerte.

Lelithar, como otros mundos del sector Agripinaa fue asaltada por la gigantesca sombra de la Decimotercera Cruzada Negra, no solo sufrió el ataque desde los cielos de los servidores de los Poderes Ruinosos sino que en sus ciudades y sus colmenas se esparció la Plaga del Descreimiento y poco a poco, agrocomplejo a agrocomplejo, bloque a bloque, nivel tras nivel la inmensa masa de los zombies de plaga se extendió devorando toda vida mientras las batallas se sucedían en sus cielos y sus continentes.

Miniar carecía de cualquier valor estratégico así que no hubo ninguna batalla o incursión, pero pese a todo no escapó de la violencia, nadie ya sabe cómo fue, y nadie lo sabrá nunca, pero la infección de la Plaga llegó hasta la remota isla. Los terribles sucesos que arrasaron la isla no fueron ni siquiera un pie de página en los terribles conflictos entre los soldados de la Guardia Imperial, el Adeptus Astartes y los Dioses Máquina de la Legio Ignatum contra los Perdidos y los Condenados. Si bien en un principio las unidades de Arbitradores y las fuerzas privadas de las diversas familias nobles que se habían refugiado allí intentaron contener la Plaga finalmente toda vida humana sucumbió dejando un paisaje desolado de destrucción y cadáveres andantes.

Villa Pertinax está casi en la cúspide del volcán, una lujosa villa donde fácilmente podrían vivir con todos los lujos varias docenas de personas y todo el servicio requerido, desde sus jardines y terraza se tiene una vista total de toda la bahía y en el lateral más alejado de la zona noble se yergue una inmensa antena de comunicaciones, antaño el principal medio de comunicación insular tanto a nivel planetario como orbital. Hacía ya muchos meses que ninguna comunicación entraba o salía salvo el tráfico de datos rutinario que unos pocos cogitadores aún en funcionamiento enviaban de forma programada por sus operadores ya hacía tiempo muertos. Sin embargo los sistemas automáticos de la torre aún funcionaban, así que cuando un grupo de figuras surgió de entre la maleza que cubría su base una cámara automática los enfocó e inició la rutina de vigilancia y aviso programada.

El archivo que generó la cámara no era nada especialmente llamativo: un grupo de humanos con ropa y equipo de trabajo ligero, si bien armados con equipo estándar de la Guardia Imperial que escoltaban a lo que parecía un técnico que trabajó durante un corto periodo de tiempo en uno de los puertos de servicio de la antena. Unos pocos minutos después el grupo se alejó por donde había llegado y la cámara prosiguió con su rutina de vigilancia. La alerta generada junto con el archivo adjunto fue procesada en los cogitadores de las instalaciones de vigilancia del puerto y un aviso automático enviado a la fortaleza-comisaría planetaria.

Todo siguió igual en Miniar. Muerta, arrasada, infestada de no-muertos vagando por sus calles y avenidas.

Satélite de comunicaciones Norte 37. En órbita geosincrónica sobre el hemisferio Norte de Lelithar.

El servidor Norte 37-4672 era el último operador asignado al satélite 37 de la red secundaria de Lelithar, muy probablemente también fuera el último ya que desde el estallido de la guerra se había suspendido el servicio de mantenimiento y reparación de la red de comunicaciones civil y gubernamental y todos sus indicadores de funcionamiento y operatividad marcaban niveles críticos de falta de nutrientes y oxígeno.

Sin embargo al cerebro lobotomizado de Norte 37-4672 no le preocupaba su inminente muerte por inanición o asfixia, o la ausencia casi total de tráfico de comunicaciones desde hacía ya varios años. Toda su existencia se basaba en transmitir, o cómo era este caso, esperar que llegara tráfico que derivar a otras redes de comunicación planetarias o exoplanetarias. Así que cuando después de tantos meses llegó una ráfaga de datos desde la antena de Miniar simplemente la derivó hacia la capital imperial asegurándose además de incluir un mensaje exoplanetario dado que era una alerta de seguridad dirigida a los Arbites. Una subrutina perfectamente habitual en estos casos, algo tan sencillo como marcar el mensaje con una runa estilizada coronada por una calavera y enviarla encriptada a un nodo de comunicaciones no estándar situado en algún lugar cerca del punto Mandeville del sistema.

Tras este breve lapso de actividad Norte 37-4672 pasó una vez más a su rutina de escucha de las redes de comunicación muertas de un planeta casi muerto.

Sentrillion sneered at the scene before him.  Through the clearing mists he could make out a simple structure. It was an ornatly carved crystalline table. It reminded him of the table that was used for briefings during the days of the Great Crusade. Memories flooded back reminding him of the time before their rebellion. He was commander of the 6th assault company then. Back when the III commanded respect amongst the Legiones Astartes. To see this mockery of a more glorious time made his blood boil. "Unless," he growled as he approached the table furling his great wings around him like a cloak. Placing his hand upon it he spoke the words that had been lost to time, "Sentrillion Iollus, Commander of the 6th Company 3rd Battalion." The table vibrated as a section of the table illuminated beckoning him to his proper spot.  "It can't be," he said drawing his sword and taking a more defensive weapon stance as he moved to the place lit up for him. As he did a great thud sounded in the distance followed by rythemetic vibrations like a great beast walking slowly getting closer.  The mists parted as a great steel behemoth entered the clearing. Sentrillion readied himself to strike but the faint light reflected off the mockery of the aquilla that adorned its centre mass. Recognizing it as a Leviathen dreadnaught Sentrillion paused as the ruby eyes of the helmet in the center of the mass regarded him.

Moving to the table it placed its great clawed hand upon it and ancient speakers crackled as they came online.  "Alloysux Krouss, Lt of the 9th armored Company 3rd Battalion."

"Alloysux? I thought you fell upon Terra?" Sentrillion asked as a section of the table came on to the right of where the dread stood. He stood in awe of the dred as it had been reported to him when he ordered the retreat of the 3rd company when it was confirmed The Warmaster was slain by the hated Corpse-Emperor.

" I did." The dread moved to its spot. " I fell to a Scar plasma shot. Fell but would not expire. As such I was interred." The voice through the speaker cracked with emotion as it remembered the event. " It is good to see you again Lord Captain."

"The feeling is mutual, " Sentrillion said lowering his blade. "Though I do wish to know the nature of our reunion."

"As do I," a voice hissed in the mists as they parted and a flow of haze moved towards the table taking shape as it got closer. As the haze cleared the form came into focus revealing an ancient torso of power armor bearing the aquilla and other markings of the Emperor's Children Legion. The lower serpentine half pulsated as the newcomer slithered towards the table. Propping up his arcane staff he lowered himself to the table. "Thulo Okoleth, Libraius to the 3rd Company 3rd Battalion. " The table glowed in response.  "Lord Captain," Thulo said as he bowed in respect to Sentrillion. "I received a communicae that I was to come here, I had at first sensed it was a trap."

"I did as well," Sentrillion said recalling the message that he recived. Saying to come to Gavin IX, the sight of where the the third battalion came into its own during the crusade, just after Lord Fulgrim had returned to the legion. They had held the main landing pad after the collapse of the breachhead established by the VIII. "Seems a coincidence wouldn't you say for us to be summoned here?"

"Haven't I taught you anything Sentrillion?" a voice cut through the night as a figure in an ornate suit of terminator armor stepped forward. Covered in numerous iconography of Slaanesh, his lightning claws crackled with chaotic energy. Stepping towards the table he placed his clawed gauntlet upon the table. "Helon Zhorisch, Lord Commander of the the 3rd Battalion.  Legio Delagatus of the Emperor's Children Legion." The entire table glowed as those gathered kneeled in respect to their supreme commander. "It is good to see you all here once more and ready to tear down the hated Imperium as a demonstration of our perfection in war."

How it all started...

The Custodes were supposed to be the Emperor’s friends and advisors. Which got me thinking.

What if they had actually been that? There were many, many moments in canon where Big E could have done with a well-meaning slap upside the head.

“My Lord, why not just send the War Hounds down instead of teleporting Angron up?” “What about chastising Lorgar in private instead of publicly? Much better for unity and morale.” *waves graphs showing how much garrison duty, and how much efficiency, the Iron Warriors are doing*

Except that the Custodes in canon are all stoic assholes and complete yes-men.

So I changed that.

The original draft for the AU was for the Primarchs to be parented by various Custodes while the Emperor was his usual manipulative canon self. But that wouldn’t work.  With more personable and proactive Custodes, he wouldn’t be his canon self. And it would be too many characters to write right out of the gate.

Enter Constantin Valdor. (At the time of writing, the Valdor novel hadn’t been released and so the AU ignores it.) All I had to do was make him a kind, introspective and forthright character and the rest just fell into place.

Oh, and the Emperor is a slightly feral actual Eldritch Abomination.

Which actually makes him a better parent.

Link to SpaceBattles here.

Link to Ao3 here.

List of Titles in the Series:

Complete:

One Mile West of the Dreaming Sun: 5+1 Constantin Valdor-centric snippets through the Unification Wars, and his relationship with the Emperor. Gradual canon divergence. Soft.

Rise Up to Meet It: Horus origin story. The Vth Legion discover Cthonia, and a certain feral little fluffball. Some drama, but ends with fluff and cuddles. 

Your Tooth and Eye: Leman origin story. Horus tries to befriend the just-discovered Leman, who is an angry smol with identity issues. Meanwhile, there are monsters trying to kill them. Slice-of-Life-ish drama.

Five Cubits South of the Boiling Stars: A collection of snippets set between One Mile West and Rise Up. Focuses mainly on the various Custodes, adds worldbuilding, and also contains a mini-arc on the Scattering of the Primarchs. Overall wholesome, with a dash of eldritch horror here and there.  (Continuous work, updates irregularly)

Great Celestial Hieroglyphs: Magnus origin story. A slightly different deal is struck with Tzeentch much earlier. The XVth Legion suffer the consequences and an unlikely alliance with the VIIIth Legion is struck. Contains a second plotline about the growing partnership of two Astartes. Drama/Horror. Lots of Body Horror and Eldritch Horror. Plenty of Feels. Eventual bittersweet ending.

Pit Born: A stand-alone snippet about a supporting Astartes character, and the recruitment practices of the VIIIth Legion. Briefly starts off dark, quickly turns into Fluff.

Passerine: Sanguinius origin story. After being revered on Baal, Sanguinius navigates life in the Imperial Palace amongst his own kind and is faced with the task of reforming his bloodthirsty Legion. Very Fluffy, with a few bits of gore here and there. In Progress: No Frozen Firmament: Rogal Dorn origin story. Adopted by the Imperial House of Dorn, young Rogal is soon made aware of politics. Slice of Life, very Fluffy. Includes Woolly Rhinos.

Nykona Sharrowkyn and Sabik Wayland should have kissed at the end of Sons of the Selenar but Graham McNeill is a coward

A bit rambly, but on the but on the subject of Legion size:

I wish people would stop saying that the Legions could never number more than 1-2 million marines, or that the Custodes could never number more than 10 000 or so Custodes. It’s extremely wrong, and here’s why: at the end of the Great Crusade, there were over 2 million space marines in the galaxy. The GC lasted for around 2 centuries, and saw vast numbers of marines die. Depending on the source, marines live for centuries (4-600 years at least) or until killed. Similarly, Custodes live for thousands of years, and it took around 100 years for the Emperor to create 10 000 of them (Burning of Prospero states that they reached that number around the mid-point of the GC), with a few dying in battle. Both of these projects suffered from other projects devouring resources that could have been funnelled into one or the other, and if you scrap one you have tens, maybe hundreds of millions of male children that can be used as a conscription pool for the other. We know hive worlds regularly have populations in the hundreds of billions.

Hell, using the Ultramarines, Iron Warriors and Sons of Horus Legions you’re already up to some 550-600+ thousand marines, and that’s just a sixth of the Legions (if the largest one and two of the runner-ups). You think the Iron Warriors or World Eaters, the Legions who took the largest losses throughout the GC, couldn’t have reached 3-600 000 in a century of peace? They still reached 150K (WE) and 150-180K taking those losses and without the benefit of the resources we could pour into those two Legions by scrapping the Custodes project. You don’t think the Emperor’s Children could have reached 2-300K if they relaxed their standards somewhat, when they still managed to reach 120K?

Saying there’s a limit for how many you could make is just fucking WRONG, and it’s unreal to me how often people will argue the point just because an in-universe unreliable narrator said so.

"From iron cometh strength! From strength cometh will! From will cometh faith! From faith cometh honour! From honour cometh iron!"

Gonna do some Old school space marine series

this is my art process rough thumbnail sketch to fix silhouette

than paint.

I started with this Iron Warriors Warsmith 

will do the old warhammer 40k rogue trader marines :)

@misterculexus hehe your fav chapter :)