#terran astartes
Text
The Inquisitor knows about yandere astartes, it won't end well
Inquisitor [REDACTED] report on yandere Astartes (????)
+++ CLASSIFICATION: [LOCK]
+++ CLEARANCE: Obsidian
+++ ENCRYPTION: [LOCK]
+++ DATE: 327.M38
+++ AUTHOR: Inquisitor [REDACTED], Ordo Malleus
+++ SUBJECT: INVESTIGATION INTO SUSPECTED GENEFLAW AFFECTING ADEPTUS ASTARTES SUBJECTS ACROSS ALL CHAPTERS AND FOUNDINGS
+++ EYES ONLY HIGHEST TRANCHESINQUISITORIAL CASE FILE [EXCISED]
Summary of Findings:
Initial reports of this suspected "Geneflaw" first reached my conclave several terran years ago. Astartes assets deployed to war zones began exhibiting highly erratic behaviors and perverse compulsions unbecoming of the Emperor's finest warriors.
Behavioral divergences included:
Unnatural emotional outbursts and loss of emotional mastery
Uncontrollable sexual urges and deviant acts
Possessive, clingy behaviors violating sacred chains of command
Irrational self-destructive and anti-imperial actions driven by object fixations
At first, these cases seemed sporadic and isolated across different Chapters. However, as more deplorable incidents piled up, a clear pattern emerged. Something grievous had gone wrong on a fundamental level.
Excerpted examples of documented cases:
[REDACTED] - BLOOD ANGELS CHAPTER
Audio log of Sanguinary Priest [REDACTED]
"Some dark curse has been visited upon our Chapter. A growing number of my battle-brothers have become… afflicted with wanton hungers. No mere physical needs, but all-consuming fixations on certain mortals within our care."
"They will stop at nothing to "claim" these individuals for themselves, body and soul. Any attempt at intervention results in unthinkable acts of disobedience and violence…"
[SAMPLE ENDS]
[REDACTED] - BLACK TEMPLARS CHAPTER
Thought downloading from captured Chaplain [REDACTED] upon interrogation
"The time for restraint is at an end. I can bear this throbbing in my soul no longer! She must know the depth of my unfettered desire, the fever pitch of my infatuation. If she does not return these longings, I shall shatter worlds until the God-Emperor take pity!"
*Interrogator's Note: [NEUTRALIZE]
[REDACTED] - EXCORIATOR CHAPTER
Recorded pict-captures from helm-cams during incursion on [REDACTED]
-Extreme Battlefield Fraternization between crusaders and human auxiliaries
-Acts of exhibitionism and self-mutilation by crusaders
-Systematic execution of any battle-brother expressing disgust at above actions
-Final pict: [REDACTED]
The list of astartes goes on. Worse, there appear to be no patterns in age, founding, homeworld or even primarch genealogy. These repulsive behaviors are emerging across every Adeptus Astartes chapter at random. The Imperium teeters on the brink of an catastrophic, gene-coded crisis.
Research into potential countermeasures and remedies continues. However, my conclusions thus far firmly advocate an extreme response to contain this threat.
RECOMMENDED ACTIONS:
1) Immediate executions for any Astartes subject exhibiting Geneflawed behaviors. No exceptions.
2) Full and systematic extinction-level viral bombings against all potentially compromised Chapters and fleets.
3) Pre-emptive destruction of all Astartes gene-seed repositories, along with any Adeptus Mechanicus factions and forge worlds implicating in its creation or study.
Only through the complete erasure of this genetic stock can the essence of the Adeptus Astartes be preserved for the inevitable darkness yet to come.
The Emperor's work must be done, no matter how abominable the means required.
I await your tribunal's final judgment on this matter.
Thought for the Day: "There is nothing to be gained through mercy, only fleeting weakness and eventual damnation."
-Inquisitor [REDACTED]
72 notes
·
View notes
Text
I don't know anywhere near enough about Sanguinius to metaphorically crochet him into a little finger puppet for my primarch fics but how about a little baseless speculation about him and Fulgrim? Please note that this is all based on how I view them in the universe of my silly little stories and is in no way a claim about knowing how they are in canon / lore.
I would probably a) portray Sanguinius as a genuinely sweet adorable cinnamon roll too precious for this world and b) have Fulgrim utterly loathe him because of this.
I tend to write Fulgrim as being a pleasant and charming person who, deep down, is about 50% a deeply broken overthinking ultra-perfectionist and 50% really jealous and vindictive. Please understand that this isn't me saying he's just evil and always was because it really really isn't. It's entirely possible for someone with these traits to function perfectly well in society and not be a bad person in any meaningful sense.
However.
One of his formative experiences as a primarch was almost losing his entire legion due to the Blight corrupted geneseed that almost wiped them out right at the start.
He had to build them up himself from nothing with the constant threat of annihilation both in the sense that "if I fuck up a war and lose however-many thousand Astartes in a terrible accident on the double-ended dildo planet I have no reserves or replacements" and also "every use of our geneseed is a gamble against the horrific mutation coming back and destroying us all over again". In that context the solution he turns to, and the only one that probably makes sense based on his prior experience on Chemos, is perfection.
Make no mistakes, ever, anywhere, because the cost of failure is incalculable, even if it means committing science-treason so you can purge all weakness from your own space dudes. It's not a desire for perfection based on arrogance, although he is of course immensely arrogant in a lot of ways, but one motivated deep down by fear.
People like to clown on Fulgrim based on Jaghatai's infamous "I hear you do strange things to your warriors 😂👌" sick burn, but to be honest, viewed from his context, what Fulgrim's doing is somewhat understandable.
That is if we assume that the Khan isn't just making a cheap insult but rather is implying he knows a lot more than would be preferable about Fabius dicking around with Astartes genetics in order to detect and eliminate carriers of the corrupted gene-seed so that the III Legion, one of the smallest of all numerically, can still survive. And then a lot of other things too because, like Fabius could believably say in one of the weirder McNeill stories, forbidden science is akin to the ancient Terran delicacy known as Pringles. Once you pop you can't stop.
With that in mind it feels like a lot of Fulgrim's post-heresy actions, not just the snake orgies but the general distance and lack of care for his sons, comes from revelling in just finally being free of that level of stress and pressure weighing down on him at all times. Even Perturabo doesn't withdraw from the Iron Warriors that much and he's a dick.
Anyway, back to pre-heresy days. He has all this going on and then in comes Sanguinius with his giant fucking angel wings who everyone loves and who turned his legion into One Direction (not really but you know... perceptions vs reality and no one in this setting actually communicates with one another since they'd probably have a lot in common regarding fears of being mutants etc)
It's the kind of thing that I think would feel like a dagger in the heart to someone like Fulgrim. Directly highlighting and literally embodying all of his fears about mutation and imperfection and yet somehow appearing to get away with it while he has to exercise constant control and do horrible things simply in order for his legion to exist.
So for that reason I think he would absolutely hate Sangy and do everything he could to undermine him.
"Oh no, brother! I've accidentally spilled this entire Big Gulp cup of bright red Tizcan wine all over your beautiful white wings, and only moments before you were due to make a speech to ten million people about how wonderful the Imperium is! Let me help you clean it up."
And then he pulls out a Looney Tunes sized bottle labelled Fabius's Finest Molt-O-Matic Guaranteed Feather Remover and starts spraying it on him.
#he had the Big Gulp cup brought all the way from an ancient Terran dig site just so he could spill as much liquid as possible at one time#fulgrimposting#fulgrim#neves rambles#wh40k#warhammer 40k#warhammer 40000#horus heresy
37 notes
·
View notes
Text
Finally Found You. (You Survived.)
Erriox finds the voice in the darkness: Erriox (Iron Warrior OC) meets Lenora (OC) again. From Erriox’s perspective.
Author’s note: I finally finished this! There’s another piece for Erriox and Lenora that I have written and I really wanted to post, but I really needed to get this piece done first since it makes more sense to follow behind Lenora’s perspective of this encounter. Just for fun, here’s the music I listened to while writing this: Yoriichi’s theme from Demon Slayer by Samuel Kim, Middle of the Night by Elley Duhé, and Lend Me Your Voice from the movie, Belle.
Also, dialogue spoken in the Gothic language is in italics.
Tagged: @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts Anyone also interested in being tagged for these stories, please let me know in messages or your comments.
While he was in recovery, Erriox learned many things about this world he ended up in. This was Terra, ancient Terra. He was currently in what the humans called a hospital. His injuries were extensive enough such that he was sent to another facility farther away which was better equipped to handle his wounds. It would only take longer for him to heal enough before so that his body can take care of the rest. Their own body system still worked the same as before and while they still had superhuman recovery from injuries and diseases compared to normal mortals, it’s just that the medical technology at this time was a mix of ancient and modern technology. Diagnoses and treatments for injured Astartes as well as information on Astartes biology were still in development. Interestingly enough, apothecaries from different legions worked alongside each other and their human companions at these hospitals, observing and learning from each other.
It was also in this hospital where he started to gain a basic understanding of the English language, the language mostly spoken in the current region he was in. He was thankful that one of the apothecaries suggested that. It gave him something to do while in the hospital and a kind medical worker gave him some materials to get started. He managed to get the mere basic grasp of the language. It wasn’t easy to say the least, but it was enough to somewhat communicate with the mortals he encountered.
Astartes warriors from different factions and legions started appearing in this world many terran decades ago. The circumstances of how each warrior got there differed, but the feeling that this was some fevered dream that they haven’t woken up from seemed common across the board. The Thousand Sons of Magnus and Lorgar’s Word-Bearers suspected that warp magic was involved and were delving deeply to research this phenomenon. He wondered if this also happened to any of his battle brothers as well. Not that he was particularly enthused about meeting some of them any time soon.
Many of the Astartes were also bonded to mortals of this world as evidenced by the humans passing through the halls of hospital, some accompanied by their bonded Astartes warrior. Unsurprisingly, a number of apothecaries were bonded to human medical workers there as well. Erriox noticed more occurrences of bonded Astartes warriors as he started his journey to find his human once he was discharged. It was a strange phenomenon, something they had very little control over. The Iron Warrior suspected that the owner of that gentle voice that he kept repeating in his mind was his bonded one. He wasn’t sure if it was a true bond with a mortal or rather some obsession that he hung onto in order to mentally move forward during his recovery, but he strongly felt it was the former rather than latter. It was as if instinct was drawing him to where he needed to go. Otherwise, there was little reason why he would attempt to find this voice in the darkness after he recovered. Despite his doubts, Erriox hoped his human would be receptive to their bond once he found them.
Erriox had joined several roaming warbands as he passed through their territories in his travels. Some Astartes of the same legion or chapter tend to group together, forming their own bases. However, because of the strange circumstances and with how randomly the locations each space marine were transported to, it was more common than not that different Astartes of different legions, Chaos and Loyalist, created warbands and worked together. He was slightly concerned about the chaos-tainted Astartes being among the ranks, but outside of the occasional posturing or disagreements, they tend to stick to themselves and cooperate when needed.
It was in the dimming sunset that he finally came across his human’s home. He wasn’t sure what led him there, but he had an inkling that he was at the correct location. A canid came running from the back to the front of the house, growling and barking loudly at him. He continued towards the house unworried, as he knew there was little the canid could do to stop him. It stood its ground, not stopping the incessant barking. That canid had quite the gumption and Erriox approved of the iron that little creature had. Then the door opened and she came out. It was her. Her voice was the one that called to him in the darkness of his unconsciousness. It was her, his bonded one. He knew at that moment, she was his human. In the depths of his beating hearts, his soul roared out to complete the bond. Iron called for it. Iron demanded for its completion.
Erriox watched with some amusement as his human commanded the reluctant canid to go into the house, leaving her vulnerable against him. Somewhat foolish, but brave, he’ll give her that. Not that she needed to fear any harm from him nor worry about being unprotected anymore now that he was here. Three strides was all it took to get close to his human and with a hiss and click, his helmet came off. He watched her eyes widen with recognition. Not giving her a chance to run, Erriox unceremoniously dropped to one knee and roughly pulled her into his arms. He felt her stiffen, and for a brief moment, he thought she would try to leave. She relaxed and pulled back slightly, smiling at him as if welcoming an old friend, bringing up a hand to gently stroke the scars at the side of his face. Erriox closed his eyes and leaned into her touch. He couldn’t even remember when was the last time he received such warmth. She let out a contented sigh and wrapped her arms around his neck, fully relaxing into his embrace. Something felt complete then, like two parts of their bond finally clicking into place.
He pulled her tightly to himself, saying fervently in Gothic not caring if she understood or not, “It is you, my Iron. When I was lost and weak, it was you who kept away the rust. I finally found you.”
His expression softened when he felt her nuzzle back, catching the words “you” and “survived” in her murmur.
She patted his cheek gently with a quiet laugh, “You came just in time. Would you like to have dinner?”
Erriox started, staring at her in surprise. Did she just speak Gothic?
She laughed again, gesturing to follow her into her (their) home, “Come have dinner.”
The Iron Warrior got up, huffed in amusement, and followed her in. He wondered how much of the Gothic language she understood. What a clever human he had!
#space marine husbandry#space marine husbandry sentience#oc: lenora#oc: erriox#iron warrior#my writing
41 notes
·
View notes
Text
Introducing another named Voice:
Ankylométis, the apprentice apothecary
A relatively young Astartes, who trained under the legendary chapter apothecary Recupien. The senior mentor recognized his talents and suggested to the council of captains that young Ankylométis should skip his service in the Malto Nobles order to instead serve as an apothecary in the rear line units of the chapters first company
Ankylométis was thus given the honor of wearing the colors of the chapter much earlier than his peers, however (sticking to the main tradition) he is not yet allowed to wear the chapters symbol on his armor. Unlike a certain Jedi knight from Star Wars, Ankylométis accepted his seat on the counc- I mean, his place in the company with gratitude and high hopes for the future
Orks would like him, because he balances his Astartes brutality with a cunning mind, which earned him his name, an ancient Terran epithet
#warhammer#warhammer 40k#warhammer 40000#wh40k#space marines#astartes#space marine#miniature#miniature painting#primaris#voices of favor#VoF#apothecary#Space marine apothecary#apprentice
22 notes
·
View notes
Text
Acceptance
Sevatar/Rushal small oneshot, with gore, flaying, Stockholm syndrome, implied cannibalism, and no safe or sane consent. The ship is its own warning⚠️
A survived squad of Raven Guard finds a footage of a pale Astartes tortured by a Night Lord, and one of them identifies the victim in the footage as Alastor Rushal, 96th Captain. They should have turned it off to mourn Rushal, who’s assumed dead already, but can’t look away from the screen.
Rushal was lying naked on an operating table, a dried trail of blood painted his chest, his mouth scarred as well as bloody. His tar black eyes were wide and full of tears, but there was no trace of the fresh shock unique in the eyes of newly captured prey. His Night Lord torturer stood beside him, unarmored and at ease, wiping a flaying knife with the dark blue fabric of his robes. A bloodied dagger lay near Rushal’s empty hand.
When the flayer’s blade sank into his skin, Rushal stayed so pliantly still that it took a few more seconds for his Raven brothers to realize how his hands and feet weren’t bound to the table.
The Ravens keep watching, their dark eyes following the surgical precision of the flaying knife in unison. Captain Rushal cried, the powerless sound of a surrendering mind. He didn’t even show disgust when the tip of the blade began to slide around the mark of the XIX Legion over his left shoulder.
The Night Lord’s face was outside the frame. The vid recording only captured his body below the neck, and the slow movement of his bare hands.
Rushal’s eyes shut when the Night Lord started pulling, lifting the skin covered by dark Raven tattoo with the blade probing almost gently underneath. Tears flowed down his face.
The Ravens are recent recruits reaped from a reformed Deliverance, not nearly as hardened as intimidating Captain Rushal and the unkindness of his Terran confidants. They have never seen an Astartes shed a tear even out of pain, nor had the reason to imagine it.
Then there was a low chuckle, raspy but surprisingly soft, as the Night Lord finally plucked the dripping flap of skin cleanly from Rushal’s shoulder. The palm-sized open flesh already began to fix itself, sealing the capillaries and regenerating its skin over exposed fat. The Night Lord ran his thumb over Rushal’s pained frown. His nails were black. Ragged little scars covered the back of his pale hand, scabbed over and healed only recently.
The Night Lord spoke, in a flowery tongue none of their small audience could understand, but its tone had made it clear that he meant to praise. Rushal remained quiet, but he smiled and opened his expectant eyes to meet his torturer’s gaze.
Still holding the tattooed piece of skin between two fingers, the Night Lord leaned down. His features were captured perfectly on screen. A face sculpted in alabaster, smooth raven hair, scars crossing his face, eyes narrowed. Unsettling. Strangely charming. The young Ravens barely held back their gasps. It was the only Night Lord they recognize.
Sevatar glanced at the cam before putting down his flaying knife, to cup Rushal’s chin with his other hand. He licked Rushal’s cheek for the wet trail of tears, fingers stroking the veins in the side of his Raven’s neck.
Rushal groaned, his voice drenched in need and impatience rather than simply pain. Sevatar lifted the strap of skin above Rushal’s face, right over his closed mouth. A drop of congealing blood fell onto his swollen lower lip. Rushal’s lips parted.
This could be delicious. I don’t know. Said Sevatar, in whispery, sharp Low Gothic. You tell me.
One of the Ravens turns off the footage before anyone could do anything otherwise. He presses down on the button so hard and abruptly that it almost broke its panel. Silence and darkness reign for a long moment. They all tense as if they smelled blood from inside the screen. It’s hard to look at each other in the eyes.
The footage will be sent to their Captain. They never speak of it again.
🦇 🐦⬛
Thank you for reading. Comments are much appreciated
33 notes
·
View notes
Note
Barn Anon. The promised happy piece.
Castle was baffled as he looked at the bundle in Susan's arms. Humans can get even smaller and more fragile? How do they even survive? Harold laughs at Castle and Susan doesn't hesitate to plop the baby in his arms. Instantly he's panicking. How many times has he bruised Susan, her parents and even Harold on accident? What if he hurts the baby? Her baby?
Harold was quick to show him how to properly hold the baby, it sleeps so peacefully. Castle rocks it gently, mimicking what he has seen Susan and Harold do. Hm, maybe it won't be that bad after all. How much work could a baby human be?
It's only a few hours later that he would regret his thoughts. Ear piercing crying shatter the silence of the peaceful home. He can hear Susan and Harold both rushing to soothe the baby. Later that evening he would approach Susan and ask her how long till the baby grows out of this crying for everything phase? She laughs at him and he groans at her answer. She pats his arm and tell him it's just how babies are. He grumbles when she tells him that she thinks he'll be a great uncle to her newborn. Hmph, the things he does for his human.
Castle did his best to not mutter too much though Susan and Harold understood his desire to make himself scarce these first few weeks of life. All the baby did was cry and process its food. Castle did not think much of the fact that at one point he too was so very small... he too was so very helpless... he too was just a careless act away from simply dying.
It made his teeth itch with the sudden anxiety. Just like when Susan was pregnant and her delivering. He wasn't allowed inside but he could hear her scream out in pain. These ancient Terrans were still, rightfully, wary of Castle and his ilk. He knew what they said about Astartes... stuff that humans back home would whisper but here they would say it aloud and shout.
How they were barely human... how could they trust our kind... how we were made for killing... how come they couldn't solve all the problems that seemed to pop up. They were space men... why wouldn't they share their secrets with them... how could they just do that to their bodies? And on and on and on...
He looks down at the six month old as he just screams and yells just not understanding how speaking works but he's not distressed he just screams for the sake of it... he screams because its how he communicates at this moment in time. How tiny grubby hands gripped his hair and pulled but it hardly felt much to him an annoyance really. A tiny toothless mouth gnawing on his fingers as soon just normal yells turned to frustrated cries...
"Oh hush you're just tired. You remind me of one of my brothers... hardly ever wanting to relax when visiting new worlds." Castle drawls in gothic just looking at the tiny boy in his hand. He wonders if tomorrow will be the day that they all return home or wake up from this dreamlike state they find themselves in. But he can make the most of it until then.
#warhammer 40k#space marine husbandry#space marine husbandry sentience#OC: Castle#OC: Susan#OC: Harold#Space Marines#adeptus astartes#barn anon#tales from the barn
27 notes
·
View notes
Text
Facts on the Remnant Knights legion
All the marines have Dark-Blue eyes, even if they had a different eye color before the operation, it eventually Turns Dark-Blue like Jaune's
The Paladins, Remnant Knight Honor guard, are made up entirely of Terran Born Marines. Due to their veteran status and combat Knowledge.
Terran Born Remnant Knights are revered by Remnant Born Astartes
The Remnant Knights have a penal squad, Oathbreakers, those that broke not only the Oath of their legion but were responsible for both Civilian and Remnant Knights deaths.
Oathbreakers wear blood red gauntlets to signify the blood on their hands, along with single slash mark across the helmet and shoulder pauldron that carries the Legion symbol, done personally by Jaune himself with Crocea Mors. Symbolizing they've been "Cut off" from the main Legion and Primarch. They also lose their rank.
Oathbreakers do not interact with the main legion, they have their separate space designated for them only.
Oathbreakers can redeem themselves, though to do must be something extraordinary brave that goes above and beyond their duty as an Astartes. Once redeemed, they repair the slashes with gold and are allowed to wash away the "blood" from their hands. Their former rank is restored and may even be given a much higher rank as well due to their actions that redeemed them.
Paladins do not wear terminator armor like other Legion Honor guard do, while they value the protection and firepower they offer, they don't like how limited in mobility they are. As such, only a handful wear Terminator armor, the rest wear highly decorated regular power armor.
Remnant Knights interact regularly with the Citizens of Remnant, this is so they don't develop a superiority complex like other marines Have in other legions. To value the human lives they are sworn to protect
To Remnant Knights, it is highly dishonorable to seek one's own glory in battle, espcially lone wolf style glory. Those that do it tend to be the ones that end up as OathBreakers or seen as irresponsible.
This does not mean those that do it are punished if they are forced into such a position, for instance a Remnant Knight who stays behind to cover his battle brothers retreat, one who realizes that a battle line needs to be broken, civilians are in endanger etc. It's only if they purposely do so despite other ways of presenting itself.
Jaune has banned his legion from looting riches from worlds they conquer. Despite pleas from high nobles on Remnant such things would benefit Remnant.
Jaune has no trust in the high nobility of Remnant, as such they are under constant surveillance.
This is mostly cause of personal experience with the Imperium Nobility and how they act. Espcially when one inquired about Pyrrha, not knowing she was his wife.
Remnant Knights do interact with their families, many even becoming heads of said families.
Pyrrha's role within the Legion is highly scrutinized the upper elites within the Imperium as no one of her caliber should hold that much power that is exclusively reserved for the Primarch.
Her "matriarch" status has started a cult or two that jaune has had to snuff out.
#rwby#jaune arc#warhammer 40k#lost primarch au#jaune is a lost primarch au#warhammer 30k#snippet fact#pyrrha nikos#remnant knights
83 notes
·
View notes
Note
Having run out of extinct Terran beasts to name themselves after, we now introduce new Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes: the Brawling Orks, the Eldar of the Emperor, the Tyranids Rampant and the Silver Kroot.
Can you imagine Eldrad reading “Eldar of the Emperor Adeptus Astartes Chapter”? The man would be so appalled he’d stroke out on the spot
45 notes
·
View notes
Text
I know the aesthetic is "everyone is filthy and bleeding and the worlds are all polluted and rotting and everything is awful all the time" but considering one of the Ruinous Powers is literally the god of filth and disease, it would make sense for the Imperium to have a culture of purity and cleanliness actually
"To despoil the Emperor-given body of humanity is heresy of the gravest order! You wash your face young lady or the pox-father will strike you down with zits before the Sanguinalia dance!"
People on ships probably have ritual cleansing periods based on the Terran day-night cycle, Ultramar has Roman-style public baths where the Ultramarines hang out
Of course since this is 40k they're going to be absolutely unhinged about it
Commisars shooting soldiers because they're not keeping clean enough when there's mud and blood and death everywhere and they've been fighting orks for the last solid day
Men dying of thirst so the general can have his twice-daily bubble bath to show his piety
The Sisters Hospitaller do canonically daube their armour in 'protective' incenses and ointments, either for genuine protective reasons, weirdass Imperial superstitions or maybe just so they can smell pretty while they're stalking through crowded wards saving lives or torturing injured heretics before executing them with bolt pistols I don't know (her ass has NOT agreed to medical neutrality!)
so I like to think that, like we say "sing yay many verses of this song while washing your hands to make sure you've done it long enough" they're doing the same with Imperial hymns
(not sure about the Militarum's doctors since they sometimes lean into "ghastly WW1 field hospital" vibes, but the SH's actually study new things and have access to medical texts and research mutation and xenobiology so I think they have a grasp of medical sanitation and PPE, most Astartes probs do too)
Picture a Astra Militarum doctor, Sister Hospitaller and Spess Mehreen Apothecary all stood by hand-sinks singing as they wash their hands:
Happy those who do not follow the counsel of the wicked, Nor go the way of sinners, nor sit in company with heretics.
Rather, the law of the Imperium is their joy;
the Emperor’s law they study day and night.
They are like a tree planted near streams of water that yields its fruit in season...
Some Astartes or Battle-Sisters do the whole "fight gloriously for days without rest against impossible odds until relief comes" thing that happens every week or so like clockwork and realistically come out the other side absolutely filthy and rancid, so they flagellate themselves half to death for failing to meet the ritual bathing criterias needed to maintain their divinely-granted human forms because they're terrifying religious fanatics
#maybe this is why the Astartes look so cool and the Sisters keep being drawn like they just stepped out of a spa day before fighting#''brothers! this hair gel has been passed down from the days of Sanguinius himself! No Blood Angel may go into battle without it!''#whoever designed that ridiculous Sororitas boob-plate has also shoved automated perfume dispensers into the shoulder pads#the Tau ar out there screaming WHY IS THIS THE HILL YOU CHOOSE TO DIE ON WHAT IS YOUR ACTUAL PROBLEM#warhammer 40000#warhammer 40k#warhammer 30k#warhammer 30000#adeptus astartes#adepta sororitas#space marines#sisters of battle#games workshop#worldbuilding#war crimes#somewhere there's a forge world with an STC for head & shoulders and they're making bank
52 notes
·
View notes
Text
Malcador's Knights of the Sigil
(AKA Sigil Knights)
In the middle years of the Great Crusade, when the Emperor had not yet retired to Terra but the distance between the capitol world of the Imperium and the great Legions of the space marines was growing ever wider, a proposal came to the War Council.
Drafted by Malcador the Sigilite, Regent of Terra, the proposal called for the creation of a unified force of space marines. They would be experts chosen from among the ranks of the various Legions, to be grouped together as a rapid response strike force. Thus they would serve the Imperium in those times when the assembly of the Imperial Army or the ponderous might of the Legions was inappropriate for the task at hand. In so doing they would serve as exemplars of the Astartes for the Imperium and foster goodwill between the Legions as those chosen for duty would carry the comradeship of such mixed units with them when they returned to their own Legion.
Only five primarchs voted to support the proposal.
The inauspicious beginning would come to characterize the Knights of the Sigil. Although more and more Legions would eventually send representatives, it soon became clear that many of the primarchs were unwilling to release their best and brightest from their service, and instead Legion headquarters sent such marines as were considered unfit for duty in their parent companies.
Perhaps it was not helped that the color of their armor was chosen to be a burnished bronze - though symbolic of an alloy made strong by mixing metals, it also hearkened back to ancient Terran traditions of a third-rate presence: ranking behind the gold of the Custodians and the silver of the Knights-Errant. Despite such pressures - or perhaps because of them - the Sigil Knights would become a knight-knit group, ferociously loyal to one another and to Malcador himself, who they came to view as benefactor, the provider of one last refuge from disgrace.
Amidst the myriad tragedies of the Horus Heresy came the sundering of Malcador's Knights of the Sigil. When those marines hailing from traitor Legions came under suspicion, many chose to renounce their heritage and be counted among the early Blackshields, the rest either joining them or donning the silver of the Knights-Errant and becoming individual operatives.
Though they received no great love in their lifetime or lamentation at their end, it is arguable that following the wars of M32 the foundation of the Deathwatch would use the groundwork laid by the Sigil Knights to create a galaxy-wide force operating in cohesive teams formed from the many chapters of the Adeptus Astartes.
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Technoarcheologist and Inquisitor
Aboard the Ark Mechanicus Deimos’s Cog the living quarters of the current head of the First Deimos Explorator Fleet was not which one would expect out of the living quarters of a tech priest. By and large the quarters are separated into two different sections, one of them was exactly what you would expect machines and incense and work tables and private spaces for veneration stretched out for hundreds of square meters, it was a private site of innovation and as well held a small meeting space where senior tech priests of the fleets synod or Skitarii Marshals could meet personally with Fabricator Minoris Technoarcheologist Magos Domina Aleph-Gimmel Bellerov-2.0. there was even space enough for the head of the accompanying chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, Artificer Siderénia Teleiótita, to sit comfortably. Accompanying Admiral Ezekiel Bendavid of an Imperial flotilla similarly had a designated if auster chair.
The other half however of Aleph-Gimmel’s private quarters seem to be something straight out of the second millennia in Old Earth. Still covered in icons of the Machine God this section of rooms seemed almost comfortable. At Great expense it had been covered in wood paneling, as well as seats made with cushions for both baseline humans and rather augmented tech priests to be able to longue. Aleph-Gimmel also personally oversaw the construction of a kitchen and accompanying amsec cellar room as well as room for dining. Strangest of all rooms in an almost a mirror to the rest station on the other half of these quarters where she could simply plug in and rejuvenate there was a classic four-poster terran bed and private study.
Aleph-Gimmel only let a select few into that last space. She had learned the importance of being able to cater both to her own tastes and guests while serving as a diplomat for her fleet.
Today however was a much more informal situation. However it was just as important, if not more.
Aleph-Gimmel sat at the head of the dining table. Her chair was specially crafted in order to accommodate her panoply of augmentations and exploratory machines attached to her back and wired into her head. She had retained the use of her digestive system exclusively for nights like this, otherwise it was possible for her to gain nutrients the same way as many tech priests, through intravenous methods.
As she waited, she looked down at her glass of Squire’s Rest Amsec. She was running through the calculations in her head for the first time this person meeting her in this room would be thrown off take priests normally did not keep such quarters however that may not last the entire night. This was going to be a meeting not formally not between the leaders of any such organizations supposedly between friends. If she could be said to have such. The viscosity of the amsec was 0.2, well with acceptable parameters. Her emotional regulator let her know that neurotransmitters flagging the feeling of emotion of anxiety were being generated. She flagged them for destruction.
Another alert buzzed through her noospheric sensors that the doors to this room were being opened.
The figure that emerged into the room was wearing black armor, as well as standard imperial uniform that was issued usually to its officers of the highest order. Her skin was dark and beautiful. It was marred only by an ocular implant and scarring around it. Most glaring however was a chain around the figure's neck.
An Inquisitorial rosette in gleaming gold and silver hung from it.
Her grey eyes looked down at Aleph-Gimmel and the matching set of plates at the tail end of the table and decanter ready to be poured. “Fabricator Minoris Technoarcheologist Magos Domina Aleph-Gimmel Bellerov-2.0.”
With that she stood up and gave a small bow. “Inquisitor Seraph Seraphdottior, please take your seat. I have arranged for this dinner for you.” The magi’s voice though organic was carefully modulated. Ste similarly kept a small non threatening smile upon the her face. If she were to leave this meeting alive it would take every ounce of her expertise.
Sera looked around the room covered in itchings of cogwheels and skulls on the wood. She then pulled out the seat and sat in it. “You've made quite the renovations since Omega… what did you tell the Greater Deimosian Synod? She died in battle?”
The artificial vox box that Aleph-Gimmel had installed in herself played out a recording of the message sent out. “As a result of the battle that has taken place on Erophant III, Fabricator Minoris Magos Domina Omega Bellerov-1.0 has died and the Fleet Synod of Deimos’s First Fleet has elected to select myself, Fabricator Minoris Technoarcheologist Magos Domina Aleph-Gimmel Bellerov-2.0 to be her successor in leading the fleet amongst the mysteries of the Omnissiah. Erophant III has been liberated.” A moment passed and then once more with her organic voice, “The first course is coming! I do hope you enjoy these Ultramarian cheeses, Inquisitor, they were selected at great expense.”
A pair of servitors walked into the room, each carrying platters. They had implants that made them seem like they had been specially designed for serving dinners. Sera’s icy eyes seemed to take note of them before the platter was placed between the two in the table. Aleph-Gimmel reached out with her unaugmented hand to grab some of the food. Her hand though unaugmented was still covered in jet black mechanistic tattoos.
After a period of silence The Inquisitor once more broke it. “Do you understand why I'm here, Magos?” Sera, even as the tech priest was eating happily and taking the occasional sip of fine amsec, have not touched a single plate and was instead standing still and grim as a statue in an ecclesiarchical nave.
“For dinner?” It was halfway between a joke and a sarcastic common calculated just well enough to make The Inquisitor smile or even laugh perhaps this would put her at ease.
It did not.
Sera Seraphdottior picked up the knife set beside her for later in the meal. “I am well aware of the corruption that ran through your fleet. And I'm here to ensure that it has been purged and removed. Omega Bellerov-1.0’s taint by Khorne it's not as secret as you made it out to be. I will be allowed full inspection of your facilities I tell you only now Magos, as a favor due to our previous engagements. I will be beginning with your Metallica Class Factoryships”
Aleph-Gimmel remembered well the time that she'd run across the Inquisitor before and a happily aided her with whatever was needed. “I can assure you that any sympathizers or others corrupted were swiftly launched into the Erophant System’s star.” To continue nibbling on a piece of cheese as she spoke. The next course was due to begin both of their plates, one well used one utterly empty, removed and replaced with another set of fine China similarly emblazoned with the symbols of the Adeptus Mechanicus.
“You are indeed credit to Deimos and Mars Aleph, however,” she looked around the room. “Keep your eccentricities in line. I would hate for them to develop down a similarly destructive path. You already have an abnormal taste for luxury.”
“I can assure you that my devotion to the Omnissiah, The Emperor On Earth, The Motive Force, and Machine God is total and utter.” It came out far angrier and stronger than she had intended but Aleph-Gimmel would not take such accusations lying down. She was the leader of a Synod for the Emperor's sake!
“Good.” The rest of the dinner concluded in silence neither wishing to speak more.
Inquisitor Sera Seraphdottior left, and her ship detached itself from Deimos’s Cog.
Aleph-Gimmel slumped down the back of her chair. She sent out a summons to trustworthy Skitarii Marshall, there was much to be done.
9 notes
·
View notes
Text
Update: finally got the all-clear to take Jasteel out of isolation and I let him into the garden to run around and enjoy the sunshine. Of course even a month inside is going to turn even the most sedate, neat Astartes into a lunatic; he really ran right through the first mud puddle 😩
So now he gets bath time in the shower.
Edit: A Lot of people telling me that he's not a Thousand Son because 'hE'S thE wRoNg CoLOur!'
He IS a Thousand Son! He's a rare Terran Retro Breed! This is what Thousand Sons looked like before breeders bred the Prosperan Red(also known as the Magnus Red, after the bloodline's founder) in an effort to dull the effects of the Flesh Change!
Yep! Flesh Change is crippling to a Red, but deadly to a Terran!
It's also why the Rubric Blue came about; the Flesh Change doesn't actually bother them but of course there are other side effects!
Jasteel being a rare Terran is also why he isn't neutered, which I also get a lot of hate for. People don't seem to realise that we need all the genetic diversity we can to bring back this rare breed, so he needs to spread his genes. I'm not a breeder myself though, and I know I'm not up to caring for marinelings, so I had him spayed instead. No 'Whoops Litters' here!Just a healthy boi who occasionally goes to the vet bc he does better with Artificial Insemination.
It was why I kept Anrek, my new Night Lord menace, in a carrier the whole time until I could confirm he was fixed or get it done. Not that I think Jasteel would be interested, but like I said, I don't want to risk an accidental litter!
17 notes
·
View notes
Text
Musings on Custodes: Nobilitas Terra
Ah, the now famous “all Custodians begin their lives as the infant sons of the noble houses of Terra” line from the 8th edition codex (not reproduced in the 9th one, btw). It has now experienced the kind meteoric rise in quotation previously enjoyed only by biblical verses in times of major church schisms. Let’s talk about the part of it that’s actually interesting though.
So Custodians are drawn from the children of Terra’s nobility. It is apparently not exclusive and other sources are allowed on Custodes’ own discretion, but this is both the traditional and the main one. It seems that originally the Emperor was doing something of a mamluk/janissaries thing with them, taking infant children from the families of his potential rivals as both hostages and soldiers that could be raised loyal only to him. Later, when his power grew to so far outstrip that of Terra’s aristocracy as to make any internal challenge of it inconceivable, it instead became prestigious to submit a child of a family to this service - not conscription, but an offering to the golden idol of humanity instead.
So surely, in 42nd millennium, with the Emperor’s eclipsing presence… changed, if not gone, there must be some sort of interesting dynamic between the Custodians and the bloodlines that spawned them? Well, the codex seems to dismiss the idea out of hand, stating that there is no real way for nobles of Terra to recognize their scions once they become Custodians - which presumably means that there is no grounds for interaction? And sure, I can recognize why the official lore in its current state isn't interested in that: Custodians are fixated on the Emperor to the exclusion of everything else, and the Terran nobility itself is a fairly faceless thing in the lore, one of which we don't really know enough about to build any kind of investment from their perspective.
But here we are all about the things that could yet be, rather than the things that just are! And I honestly think a bit of lore expansion in this direction could be pretty interesting!
Between the origins of the Rogue Traders and the Custodians themselves it seems that, much like the priesthood of Mars, some clans on Terra were indeed once powerful enough to make the newly ascendant Emperor deal with them in terms other than total subjugation or destruction. Would the meteoric rise of the Imperium during the Great Crusade grow or diminish their powers? On one hand - the previously mentioned growth of the Emperor's power in relation to them and the whole new "breed" of imperial elite he was literally creating (I know that in modern lore there is some speculation about what were actually his plans for the Astartes and the primarchs post-Crusade, but however things would have turned out for them, had he his way, I doubt it would have resulted in even a modicum of power returning to the hands of his once-rivals)... But on the other - during times of obscene growth and expansion rich and powerful tend to grow even more so, and I doubt that grimdark future avoids this tendency. So I will go out on a limb a little and say that while during the rise of the Imperium the power of Terran nobility may have waned in relative terms, it probably grew in the absolute ones.
And the following ten thousand years of sitting at the top of a stupidly expansive feudal confederacy probably did not hurt them either!
In the days of the Era Indomitus, then, these vague "noble houses of Terra" must be some sort of force to be reckoned with - politically, culturally, and probably even militarily. Likely on a galactic scale. And the personal guard of the Emperor, the supposedly most advanced beings in the entire Imperium, the living symbol of his power - are staffed almost exclusively by the scions of those houses. Do you see my vision? Do you agree that something simply must be there?!
Custodians are the Emperor's representatives and envoys, the single most powerful military force on Terra and the organization in full undisputed control of access to the most holy site in the entire Imperium, a place from which, technically, ALL authority within its borders is derived. Even without the bloodline connection there should be some kind of a relationship between them and the other powers of the throneworld! Even if we look at the pre-codex, fully palace-bound version of Custodes that care for absolutely nothing other than the Emperor's corpse physical safety - they still recognized that the events on larger Terra influence this safety and need to be at least reacted upon. And in the modern version they have never even been that shut-off. Even before the lifting of the Edict of Restraint, Solar Watch patrolled the Sol system entire, Aquilan Shield departed on their mysterious protector missions and the Emissaries Imperatus were busy being a diplomatic corps, for fuck's sake. I find it hard to believe that they would simply ignore Terra's political players, leaving them to do whatever unless someone rolled up armed to the Imperial Palace. So there definitely would be interactions - and once that hook is in, the fun begins.
Are custodians willing to "stoop down" and play nobility's games with them? Do they even have aversion to doing so? Surely, with all the talk about their talents beyond head-chopping, they are capable of scheming with the best of them? And if doing so is the most efficient way to get the job done - why would they object? And if they are no strangers to political manipulation and the noble families desperately want the prestige that comes with having produced a Custodian - why wouldn't the demigods indulge them and use it as a tool? Especially since they - if we keep the codex idea of it being impossible to recognize surrendered infants as the Custodians they become - hold all the cards and can basically present any of their number as a scion of this or that family? And while we are at it - do they themselves actually know? I imagine it must be not that important to them, but are there any records kept? Could you be a 200 hundred year old Custodian fresh out of training (a random example - like so many things, it is not known how long the creation and training of a Custodian takes) and be suddenly told that the aging matron of a noble house with whom you have to go and negotiate is actually your biological mother? Would that stir something? Curiosity, at least? Or is the Emperor’s light so absolute that it can blind one to even the most deep-nested human impulses?
Do Custodians remember sins and glories forgotten by the tapestries of gold and jewels? Do they watch some relatively minor and unimportant house with baffling prejudice - all because someone from it almost outdid the Emperor in something more than ten thousand years ago? Do some bloodlines enjoy unseen protection due to secret deals that have passed out of all human memory?
What about the internal politics of the organization? Millenia of drafting from a relatively closed pool of families means that some Custodians are related to each other - does that matter to them in any way? Even if the golden demigods are completely free of prejudice and superstition - which their history of paranoia kinda tells me they are not - genetics do play an objectively huge part in their existence. Is more expected of those drafted from families that produce more Custodians than others, or have spawned some especially renowned heroes? Once again - is it even public knowledge amidst the Custodes?
And what about the nobles themselves? Do they seek favor of the Adeptus Custodes? Is such a thing even possible? Do they view them as another player in their political games, or are they more of a force of nature, a condition that everyone has to deal with and adapt to? How does the process of submitting children even work nowadays? Is it compulsory? How many are taken from each family/genertaion? Do any struggle against this harvest, or has the honor of the thing completely overshadowed any resentment that they might have had?
Basically what I am saying is that, for the purposes of worldbuilding, interaction between systems is always better than the lack of thereof. And if one were looking for the ways to expand Custodes' lore - this one feels like a great source of characterization for them.
#a tangent that wasn't really worth putting in the main text#Is Terran aristocracy actually the most ancient and powerful within the Imperium?#It seems logical at a first glance#but Terra has collapsed into barbarism during the Age of Strife#while many other worlds - though not as powerful at its outset - have survived with their social hierarchies relatively intact#the knight worlds being the most of obvious example#so there probably should be a ton of aristocratic families throughout the Imperium that can trace their lineages far beyond those of Terra#love to imagine the kind of bickering that could exist due to that#musings on custodes#adeptus custodes#warhammer 40000#and a slightly more cursed one to follow#Terran aristocrats mad thirst for custodes right?#well any Terrans really#I mean come on#we do it here and we have never even seen one#and doing so gotta awaken something in people#but then... if you are an obscenely rich and powerful noble you kinda have resources to act on it#not with custodians themselves obviously#but with all the wild genetic engineering stuff going on within the Imperium#surely its not impossible to modify a person into being roughly the same size and looking like a custodian#without all the powers stuff - which is supposed to be the hard part#especially for a... very driven client#imagine bursting down into the dungeon of a traitorous nobles palace to cut them down in the name of the Master of Mankind#and finding out that they have a gimp genetically engineered to look like you#I'd cut down on interactions with regular humans too
7 notes
·
View notes
Note
What is your opinion on the "Female Space Marines" thing, Lady Mirdan?
Are you trying to get me cancelled, my good man? 😅
Strap in. This is gonna be an unhinged and unfocused ranty wall of text.
Short answer:
Female space marines are a primaris level of a bad idea, and I really hope it doesn't become canon.
Slightly longer answer:
I feel like people forget that the Imperium are bad guys. Even the Emperor's “dream” for the Imperium is a fascist utopia, with all its horrible connotations going along with that.
There are good/interesting people/characters mixed into this mess, and I find it so interesting to see them interact in a world where the morals are (sometimes not) so radically different from the one we are living in.
The Imperium is a horrible, xenophobic, misogynistic, misanthropic hellhole.
The rotting carcass of the Emperor on a golden throne is a perfect metaphor for this.
The only thing that matters is brute strength or power/resources.
Human lives are very cheap in the Imperium. I have heard the argument “It doesnt make any sense to ignore half of your population when making space marines”, yes it does. Geneseed is rare and valuable, but humans are not. There is always someone willing to give up their son for a chance to get the God Emperors' blessing.
But let's say it is possible. Geneseed is fully compatible with female anatomy. Would someone still do it?
My guess is: probably not.
The Imperium can't even come up with a new pair of shoelaces without the inventors risking being called heretics. None of the bigger, more established chapters would risk it. Entire chapters have been wiped out for less.
I would also expect that the Ecclesiarchy would be rather unhappy with the Astartes dipping their toes into their own military recruitment pool. Terran bureaucracy is not a thing to be taken lightly.
Can’t Roboute Guilliman just go in and make it a thing?
Maybe, but why would he want to? What has given anyone the opinion that Guilliman is a “good guy”?
He often (in my opinion) wrongly gets accredited as the primarch of reason/tactics/politics when he is clearly the master of Propaganda.
He is memed to be this chivalrous boy scout when he absolutely is not. That is his carefully crafted public image.
Look at what types of men he chooses to promote when given the chance. Strong and dumb, every time.
But how about the chaos space marines?
Here we actually have an argument to do it. We have seen in several books (Nightlords, Fabius Bile etc,) that human fertility drops dramatically in the warp.
Here every body counts, and they have to be more economical with their initiates.
Fabius Bile himself is working hard to make this a possibility. Even though he wants to do his own thing and not just more space marines, they are close enough for me to be called female space marines, and I'm fine with them. The EC can have them… but do we really want them to?
What about the other Traitor Legions then?
Most of the traitor Legions leaders grew up in the Imperium and shares a lot of their sensibilities and morals.
I would doubt that the Black Legion would be fine with it even IF (big if) Abaddon himself were ok with it. A lot of his warbands would be pissed. There aren't good and rational people; they are just as brainwashed as the imperials. (I imagine a good re-enactment of this happening would be the Templin institute’s comment field on their video about this, but with (actual) curses and no profanity filter)
But GW has done bigger retcons in the past!
Yes, they have. And most of them have been handled badly.
I fully believe that female space marines CAN be introduced in a good way.
Do I trust GW/BL to do this well? Absolutely the fuck not.
I have read a good number of BL books by now, and I think I have come across well-written female characters… twice?
But my friend has a kitbashed army with female space marines, and he wants to play with them.
Hell yeah! Can I see it? I love kitbashes, and I much rather see a female space marine on the table than an “Angry marine”, for example. I’m not bothered in the least by anything fan created.
It is GW I don't trust.
You don't want female space marines because you are a sexist!
I'm not gonna bother defending against this because that would make me a hypocrite.
Yes, the primary reason I don’t want female space marines is so I can have a harem of imaginary big, buff boyfriend waifus that will never ever have an unmotivated, badly written love interest written in. Do you have any idea how rare that is to come across in a fandom?
115 notes
·
View notes
Text
Descriptions: Boys
This will be updated whenever I feel like because sometimes I get inspired
Dark Angels
Azazel Erros
Eye Color: Dark Green
Hair Color: Wheat buzzed short
Height: 7'5
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Strongman/muscular but not dehydrated
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- Tattoo of the aquilia on his right pectorial
- Tattoo of the DA symbol on his throat
- Hidden under his short beard on his chin is a red splotchy birthmark
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: Several Brains; he's dragging you away for asking him that question.
Emperor's Children
Palion Hiss
Eye Color: Neon Pink in left silver in the other
Hair Color: White that goes down to his ass
Height: 7'3
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Eternal Bodybuilder, though in reality it changes slightly depending on what his obsession likes so right now his abs aren't as defined as Muse enjoys a little bit of fat on him.
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- On his non dominant hand his nails are filed into clawed points
- His dominant hand his nails are kept blunt
- His pupils are slits
- His left shoulder has been fused to his armor as well as the armor around his left shin.
- Symbol of Slaanesh on his left buttcheek
- series of scars on his back that he refuses to acknowledge
Prosthetics:
- Vocal cords have some mutation/prosthetics to them
- at the base of his spin are 6 injection plates as there is where his armor will inject a cocktail of drugs into him.
Civilians Eaten: At least 6; he might have had more when he was really high
Iron Warriors
Harram the Wallbreaker
Eye Color: Stormy grey
Hair Color: Buzzed brown hair that curls when it grows at all
Height: 7'7
Size: Normal Iron Warrior Stocky
Build: Dad bod
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- Horn stumps on both shoulder blades
- Remnants of where flesh and armor had started to fuse on his legs
Prosthetics:
- right leg below the knee (He did not want to be trapped in his armor)
Civilians Eaten: None; he'll scoff in disgust he's not a barbarian
White Scars
Nogai Sengik
Eye Color: Dusty Brown
Hair Color: shoulder length black hair
Height: 7'4
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Strongman with gut
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: None
Space Wolves
Captain Arkyn Joriki
Eye Color: Gold
Hair Color: Wiry red hair that is shoulder length full of braids and dreads
Height: 7'5
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Strongman on the pudgy side
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: None
Imperial Fists
Astel Redlane
Eye Color: Grey
Hair Color: Buzzed white hair
Height: 7'11
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Strongman with a bit of a gut
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
-
Prosthetics:
- Apothocarian port array matrix on his back
Civilians Eaten: One (He needed to hide the body)
Night Lords
Ghosk Sevyrarek
Eye Color: Dark Blue (nearly black)
Hair Color: shoulder length black
Height: 6'10
Size: On the smaller side of Night Lord
Build: Swimmer Build
Wing Span: From Tip to Tip: 24 Feet
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- Nose has been broken twice
- Loves to decorate his wings before battle, has special skin hides and chains with hooks (all lightweight items) that he uses to strike fear
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: 2 full people; one he ate really slowly as part of a torture tactic.
Anrir Nor
Eye Color: Dark Brown (nearly black)
Hair Color: mid back length black hair
Height: 7'0
Size: Standard Terran Astartes
Build: Swimmer Build
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- his hands are suspiciously unscarred, not a blemish on them.
- Throat has an old tattoo that Anrir says is Terran in origin meaning "free of guilt" or "not guilty" (refuses to elaborate further)
Prosthetics:
- Apothicarian port array on his back
Civilians Eaten: Eaten a few organs to cause fear
Blood Angels
Sirus Amah
Eye Color: Red
Hair Color: Short curly blonde hair
Height: 7'2
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Muscular but not dehydrated
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- Enlarged canines
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: Has probably had enough blood to fill 5 human adults
Iron Hands
Marols Vauth
Eye Color: Grey
Hair Color: BALD
Height: 7'10
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build:
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
Prosthetics:
- 2 Utility Mechadendrites
- Left arm up to elbow replaced
- Both legs up to thighs replaced
- One eye is replaced
- Various organs replaced including one of his hearts
- Has a 4th lung; fully mechanical
Civilians Eaten: None
World Eaters
Zul Gospod
Eye Color: Red-brown
Hair Color: Dirty Blonde, the sides shaved and kept tied back out of the way of the nails.
Skin Color: Ruddy*
Height: 7'5
Size: Standard Terran Astartes
Build: Muscled Strongman on the more bulky side
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
-The skin on his arms is a ruddy color to a near red color around his hand due to being permanently blood stained
- This gradient is also present on his legs where his feet are almost red and his thighs are a ruddy color
- Nose has been broken 8 times
- A brass tattoo that loops from his collar bone and his upper back (It drinks up blood)
- both shoulders has ritualistic scarring that he did when he was still a War Hound (refuses to state their meaning... gets melancholic when they are brought up)
- faded back tattoo of a red dog head oh his left trapezius (another one he refuses to go into)
-
-
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: Uncertain; most likely has taken bites
Ultramarines
Tulio Sydo
Loyalty: Loyalist
Eye Color: Grass Green
Hair Color: Light Brown that curls slightly
*Skin Color: Rich Tan
Height: 7'3" (2.2 m)
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Strongman but a bit more cut
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- His left hand ring finger is missing a joint.
- His back is Tyrannid claw marks, and puncture scars leading to needing internal prosthetics.
- Bite mark on Right shoulder (again from a Tyrannid having ripped off his pauldron)
- Scar on right temple to the crown of his head (received as a child refuses to elaborate)
- Right hand has a few scars from when he was a neophyte (he attempted to learn a knife trick)
Prosthetics: No external ones
Civilians Eaten: 3 (he needed to hide evidence)
Death Guard
Solos Phorgur the Reaper
Eye Color: Sickly Green
Hair Color: Short thinning brown
Skin Color: Pale with faint greenish tint
Height: 8'0
Size: Taller than average Death Guard
Build: Lanky and Emaciate when ungorged. Post engorging looks akin to normal Death Guard bloated.
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- Right eye appears to have 3 pupils and iris' all smashed together
- His entire mouth/jaw area is mutated. It can split open (think of the monster from Jeepers Creepers) into a segmentation of 5 parts all connected by a thin layer of flesh. There are also a lot of extra teeth within his mouth and that go down his throat. A 2nd "mouth" hides in his throat that will come up, it looks like a mutation of a mosquito mouth mixed with a bee's/insects which he will use to pierce a body and eat their organs without having to rip open the body too much.
- Elongated pink tongue
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: Lost count; more than 100
Thousand Sons
Nakhr Rhan
Eye Color: Icy Blue
Hair Color: shoulder length silken brown hair
Skin Color: Bronzen
Height: 7'7
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Muscular but not dehydrated
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- Blue tattoo sleeves going up both arms to his shoulders
- his palms have the eye of Magnus tattooed on them
- the back of his neck has the eye of tzeentch tattooed on it
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: Nine (Tzeentch's number)
Ari
Eye Color: Crystal Blue
Hair Color: Brown ends at shoulders
Skin Color: Bronzen
Height: 7'5
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Bulky swimmers
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- His armor is living but he is not bound to it; armor has insectoid/beetle features
- both of his arms up to his elbows have light blue tattoos on them
- both palms have the eye of Magnus tattooed on them
- His lower back on the left has a mark showing his dedication to Arhiman's cause (He learned underneath Arhiman and while Ari was mad he also understood what drove him to try and make the desperate attempt)
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: Organ eater; Lost count how many he's fed to his armor
Black Legion/Luna Wolves
Zhur Painbane
Eye Color: Honey Brown
Hair Color: Buzzed Wheat Blonde with a lock that seems to curl on his forehead and near his ears (permanent cowlicks)
Height: 7'9
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Dad Bod
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- Left pectoral has a Luna Wolf head eating the Eye of Horus symbol
- Over his appendix is the star of chaos tattooed on it
- His canines are enlarged & he has the starting of claws on his feet
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: He's taken bites out of mortals
Word Bearers
Jihias Kinreaver
Eye Color: Copper-gold
Hair Color: BALD
Skin Color: Coppery
Height: 7'4
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Dad bod (he soft priest boy)
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- Has a tongue piercing
-
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: He's eaten probably enough body parts to make up a human.
Salamanders
Nubin Orenn
Eye Color: Molten Red
Hair Color: BALD
Height: 8'3
Size: Normal Non Primaris Salamander
Build: Soft Strongman/Dad Bod
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- Burns on his hands
- His left ear mostly missing due to a Drukhari getting close to stabbing him in the temple
- Left eye has a lot of scarring around it due to same Drukhari trying to take his eye as Nubin crushed him to death slowly and painfully
Prosthetics:
- Entire right leg (He has a very fancy off duty one that he made himself; the on duty leg was also made by himself)
- Various organs
Civilians Eaten: None (He hopes you were joking)
Raven Guard
Sor Delyn
Eye Color: Black
Hair Color: Black buzzed
Height: 7'7
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Lean muscular
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- Scars on his mouth that go from ear to ear
- there are scars on the back of his skull from his body half rejecting some implantation during his surgery as a Space Marine
Prosthetics:
- 3 service studs
- Left foot
Civilians Eaten: One (Do not ask questions)
Kazi Delax
Eye Color: Black
Hair Color: black ear length
Skin Color: Ashy
Height: 7'5
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Lean muscular
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- scar that goes from his hair line to his jaw over his right eye
- tongue was cut in half (lengthwise) when he was a scout (was doing something stupid)
Prosthetics:
- 2 service studs
- Right Foot
Civilians Eaten: None
Moremo Klaek
Eye Color: Black
Hair Color: Greying black/salt n pepper, cropped
Height: 7'6
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Lean muscular
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
Prosthetics:
- 5 service studs
Civilians Eaten: None
Alpha Legion
Eye Color: Alpharius colored
Hair Color: BALD
Height: One Alpharius Tall
Size: Alpharius Sized
Build: Alpharius built
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
-He is Alpharius
Prosthetics: None
Civilians Eaten: Alpharius
Black Templars
Brother Roland Lichtner
Eye Color: Warm Brown
Hair Color: Buzzed Platinum Blonde
*Skin Color: Ivory
Height: 7'5
Size: Normal non Primaris
Build: Strongman (gets a bit more of a gut after wife is aquired)
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
- scar from a chainsaw between where his 2nd and 3rd rib would be on his left side (Chaos Astartes)
- dent on his forehead from small arms fire from a cultist
- broken nose (about 4 times)
- leg scar from where he started to cut off his own leg before the apothecarian got to him and chewed him out
Prosthetics:
- service stud
Civilians Eaten: None (He is going to report you to the Chaplain)
Adeptus Custodes
Adonis
Eye Color: Forest Green
Hair Color: Cropped red hair
*Skin Color: Olive
Height: 9'3
Size: Standard Custodian
Build: Bodybuilder not dehydrated
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
-
-
-
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: None
Apollo
Eye Color: Icy Blue
Hair Color: short strawberry blonde
Height: 9'3
Size: Standard Custodian
Build: Bodybuilder not dehydrated
Scars/Birthmarks/distinguishing features:
-
-
-
Prosthetics:
Civilians Eaten: None
13 notes
·
View notes
Text
Hiii, I have been doing some creative writing for a Great Crusade AU and wanted to share! Feel free to give comments, critiques, and anything else :D
Chapter 1 - The Royal Court
Palets - The Warp - Suveren Sector - Segmentum Solar - 801.M30
The thunderous bang of army firepower, the miniature explosions of the Astartes bolter fire, and the clanking of God-Engine gears rang out in Mantorov's mind. Each of the wars he found as he searched within the tides of the Warp was about as interesting as the servitors; perhaps at one time, he'd have been fascinated, but they were now as benign as breathing or eating. He continued flowing, his body taken by the stream, for only a fool would fate the hand of fate. That is when he found it, a silver strand that called to him. His mind pushed toward the trail, hoping to find that which the Legion had sought for so long. Then, his mind hit the wall. His senses suddenly left the swirling painting that was the Warp and returned to his body; the darkness of his room did not help the sudden sensory deprivation.
Mantorov looked upon his brother; Domnin stood there, his face contorted in the oh-so-familiar grimace that he held. While Mantorov would never say it to his brother's face, he knew if the grimace stopped, then the man would be handsome even despite his years of battle scars. "You said your dive into the Tides would take a few minutes," Domnin nearly roared, his voice only dampened by his armor and the telekinetic field placed around Mantorov. Once he gained his breath, Mantorov word's scratched their way out of his throat, "It was a few minutes; I never specified that it was Terran standard time that I was going by," his venomous laughter rang through the room. Even to one of the Illuminated Lords, there was always something unnerving when an Astartes laughed. Even Mantorov was made uneasy by his own vocalization. Luckily, Mantorov was forcibly cut off by the ringing of an alarm; after nearly three months of sitting around and doing nothing, they had stumbled upon a world.
Palets, the mighty vessel that held the Sun Brother chapter of the Illuminated Lords, left the confines of the Warp and breached real space. The terrible sound of the Warp breaking was voxxed across the ship. For the psychically inclined of the vessel would hear the stories of their upcoming victory within. To those who lacked such gifts, they simply heard what sounded like the chittering laughter of those who were to watch them perish. Mantorov stood alongside the Chapter Master Kulik, and his mind wandered as he stood upon the dias as it always did when he was forced to perform the benign rituals before war. Of course, once the psychic rituals and divination began, he truly felt most at home. However, his mind was taken away from the Warp, and now he had to listen to a speech for which he cared not and find a way to apologize to Domnin.
He understood the need for a Watcher. They all knew the risks of any prolonged dive into the Tides. While not every member of the Legion was a Psyker, a good portion of them were or at least had enough to feel the clawing of Neverborn, who wanted into their souls. Yet, the unfortunate sods who would be called into service as the Watchers always grew furious that a dive into a realm of chaos takes longer than originally expected. It was, however, one facet in a multiprong problem the Legion faced with the new role they had claimed; the old Rats desired brutal efficiency to conquer a world in a matter of hours instead of days. They still strove for speed, but with the Illuminated Lords' new way of war, patience was becoming more and more of a virtue.
Hours passed as the set-up for war began. The world was a simple one, just a small feral world in need of Imperial forces who could show them the Imperial Truth, not to mention that from divination and scanning, the world held resources that would be highly sought after. Mantorov and his Koldun squad of fellow psykers landed upon the world; their ship, designed for stealth, would appear as little more than a shooting star to the world's inhabitants. Mantorov silent contemplation about who would be the unfortunate Lord of the world was broken when Galkin, a recent recruit to the ever-growing Librarium, managed to squeak, "Dear master, do you think the death toll will be high?" Mantorov knew the answer, for the Tides sang in the song of tens, so there would be ten mortals who would pass before the night was done. Mantorov broke his silence, his face forcing itself into a nightmarish visage of a grin, "Oh my dear boy, the deaths will be low, but they will be glorious."
Chapter 2 - The Prince and the Pauper
Sovlum V - Feral World - Suveren Sector - Segmentum Solar - 801.M30
The tactics of the Illuminated Lords were not built for worlds like these. Weak and pathetic planets could easily be swayed by the beauty of the other Legions or the calamitous brutish strength that the barbarian Legions could muster. To the uninitiated, the actions of the Illuminated, the desire to go out and conquer every world they encountered instead of just sending mortal warriors or informing nearby, smaller detachments was strange. The Illuminated never trusted their fellow Astartes to get the job done, of course, but there was a more profound element to the issue: control. Each Legion was given a few worlds over which they held ownership; for many, to expand their power base, they would simply make deals or contracts with nearby factions to acquire resources. Pathetic dealing with factors that would invariably ask for more than they gave, so the 15th had decided there was but one way to expand in the galaxy. The Under-Empire is the connected network of secret governance under everyone's nose.
Mantorov truly appreciated his gifts and the gifts of his squad once they approached their destination. Deep swamps were hellish for Astartes, while the muscular forms gifted to the Emperor allowed for movement where the mortals would typically be stuck and left to die, but it still never helped, being over 1000kg. Luckily, Kulik had at least enough tactical prowess to assign fronts that his soldiers could handle. As Poma, the dear master of flames, hardened the slop of mud into a decent enough pathway for the squad, Mantorov cautioned, "I would advise caution in these muds, my brothers, for our enemies are simple in nature but well adapted to the slop."
Galkin, the youngest of the Astartes, stuttered out, "We have nothing to fear, right?" His question was initially met by the curious and terrifying gaze of the senior sorcerers of the squad; in a hurry, he elaborated, "At most, they will send spears or arrows at us, and last time, I was instructed our armor is meant to protect against even las-weaponry."
Ved, a hulking bear of a man and master of the ways of biomancy was the first to speak. His gruff voice growled over the vox, "Armor is only as good as the flesh underneath, and your flesh is hardened but still weak against the Tide Master's will."
All of the 15th understood the will of the Tide Master. It was common knowledge that the tides of the Warp were what decided the fates of all men. However, some people were destined for more extraordinary things. The Exorcist Cult first coined the concept of Forged Destiny before their eventual dismantling, and it was the belief that if certain people are chosen by fate, then that means someone chooses them. Many terms for the Tide Master were prevalent: Primordial Creator, Lucky Mistress, and Star God were all somewhat popular, but Tide Master was the one predestined to win.
Mantorov froze at the mention of the Tide Master; the invisible hand of destiny was his domain, and yet it always made him uneasy. The whispering and rending teeth of the Warp sang in his mind at the mention, as it had for everyone in the squad. Daemons assailed his mind, but he still managed to whimper out, "This world is far too close to the Eye for discussions of the Tide Master; please do not bring it up again until we are off of this wretched-" his voice was interrupted by the sudden swish of an arrow piercing the air.
The barbaric yells of the world's populace filled the air as their arrows littered the hard mud and thunked off the Astartes' power armor. The ineffective fire did little to damage the Astartes, yet the Daemon's laughter still incapacitated Mantorov; he knew the Emperor would have their heads if he knew about talk of the Daemonic, but what else fits what assailed them? Ved was first to act; he roared in pain as the scratching continued; tumorous pustules rose from the ground, soon sprouting limbs to grab hold of the savages and consume them. Mantorov grits his teeth as the psychic leftovers from Ved's spell are incorporated into the barrage of death. This was no psychic backlash or call from the devils; it was a psyker.
Mantorov delved deep into his mind, looked past the memories of loss and love, and drifted away from the biological imperative to survive that filled his very being. He found himself adrift in the infinite well of power that was his soul if only he let go of his limitations; he had not come to commit soul suicide; however, instead, he had come to get away from his pain. To focus on what truly mattered and what the Legion was known for: Let their blood run cold as the nightmare is made real. A mass of tendrils poured out Mantorov's mouth; the aether ran through him like adrenaline, allowing for magic to form despite the impossibility of concentrating.
The gnashing mouths of his living thought form launched themselves at the pathetic tribals; their limbs would be shattered, and their minds would be broken. Some were lucky, dying swiftly as the tentacle maws consumed their hearts. Others were forced to feel the pain of the Astartes creation process, a great memory to tap into when torturing others; of course, those who experienced them usually chose suicide as a preferable alternative. The slithering deaths granted by Mantorov and the mutating pustules that Ved had let loose soon turned warriors into cowards, fleeing from their eldritch murderers. Mantorov knew their demonstration would give way to tall tales and legends of death, and he was proud. He observed his surroundings, taking in the newly vacant swamp before he laid eyes on a peculiar sight.
The child had been roughly five or so; his hair was dark as night, long and unkempt, and his face was much like the 15th Legion's. In truth, Mantorov would have simply killed the child had he not reminded him of himself at a younger age, so he walked towards the thing that piqued his interest. Heavy stomping feet shook the ground as he walked, yet the boy did not run.
The Angels of Death approached the young boy; his father had told him that fear was the ultimate weakness and that one must face death head-on with bravery. He had hoped the illusion of bravery would be enough to make up for his cowardice at the moment, while his face was flat because he was spending every ounce of his power fighting his muscle's desire to flee. He forces himself to look up at the abominable metal thing, its voice assaulting his ears like the scratching of wood to make a spear. "Are you lost, little one?"
The boy did not speak, simply shaking his head "no" in response. Mantorov was still shocked that someone so young had a strong enough soul to handle such a raw spell; he knew that his new mission was to make sure this child was taken off the world. With his grim face splitting into a devilish grin, he demanded, "You will follow us and be my apprentice; in exchange, I will spare your pitiful village." The child gulped before agreeing to the deal.
The crowning ceremony was to be held on the ship, away from the swamps and the danger that came with unknown territory. Mantorov watched as Galkin marched before the congregation of Astartes and was granted ownership of the world; he had little care for such affairs, and his focus was on how his new apprentice was utterly intrigued by every minute detail occurring; curiosity was good for a Librarian. He closed his eyes, letting the details wash over him, letting the wails from the world enter his ears as within the morning, the planet would find their leaders severed into nine parts, carved with eight runes, tended with seven flowers, and flayed into six layers; the emotions washed over him, and he was proud to be an Illuminated Lord.
6 notes
·
View notes
Last Seen Blogs
sunriseranb0w
Hello There🤗
datura-tea
what's a chicago?
niklauselijah
the originals sideblog
ristaticraw
Artistic War
mslivka24
Untitled