angelofkhorne-blog

[angelofkhorne-blog]

mgm48:

“Does it hurt? Does it hurt for you to know you cannot be free forever? Aha, perhaps you know not the beauty in commands, the beauty in being a useful slave!” 

More than that, it was her inability to comprehend the beauty of freedom. She longed not for the liberation from power and the ability to kill. She longed not for humanity. She simply wished to be used for her power, and for her to be held as a weapon.

“I would give anything to become a gun again! I would give anything to be wielded, and held, unable to speak… I miss it,” that was the ultimate truth. The only one truth she would hold to agree and know she had a feeling for.

“Perhaps someday we would have to engage in a skirmish… But right now, right now it feels as though you are weak. Regardless, you will have to discard that weakness and play with me.”

She sighs as the redness in her face becomes more apparent.

“I cannot wait… For that day.”

"oF COurSe iT- ... Of course it hurt. It still does. Knowing that all I tried to accomplish was meaningless because it was done in someone else’s name.” He could only look on her with some fury, trying to suppress the urge to go fully berserk. What madness, what idiocy was this? Were machine spirits this singleminded and obsessed with their existence as tools? 

“You know so little, of what is weakness and strength.” It was a god damn INSULT, frankly, and Angron could feel his blood beginning to boil. “So little of what a slave TRULY is...” if  He had been a Primarch, had been the strongest gladiator, had been raised up and chosen as a Prince of Khorne. “If you enjoy the role of slave you are the worst of the worst. I could feel, in every instant, my mind being burrowed away by this tHInG tHEy pUT in me. You have NOT known what it is to truly be a slave, to fEEl yoURSeLF becOMINg the toOl, tHe mONstER UnsTOpPabLE...”

He had to struggle. To not yield. But the cry echoed in his head.

Kill.

Maim.

Burn.

[angelofkhorne-blog]

tyrantofsinners:

@angelofkhorne

“What a disappointment.I throw a contest with all my money to attract strong competitors and all i got was small fry. You lot disappoint me. Can’t even beat a unarm man. You call yourself killers?”

Kouu always like fighting. It’s one of the few things he TRULY understand. Violence always been simple. You just have to be stronger then the other person and crush them with every skill in your arsenal then it be over.

So he posted a challenge around utopia. Beat him in a abandon lot in the city and they can have all his money. So the scum bags in this city came and came. With all sort of weapons and skills.

And they call got crush with out Kouu even barely breaking a sweat.

Then he saw it. Someone who attracted by the carnage. A man twice his size with armor Kouu have never seen in his life before. The man  look at Kouu and Kouu look back at him.

A kindred spirit. Both men love violence.  The man who been consume by violence and the man who only know of violence

“Well come on Berserker. I bet you didn’t come by to talk did you? One look at you and i can tell your a man of action also. Let’s have a friendly little spar and see if you can match the world strongest man in combat.”

As if sensing the upcoming fight. The men who been brutalize by Kouu make a run for it.

He had found the statement of challenge clutched in the hands of two street toughs. Pathetic, especially when they had shot at him with their pitiful guns. Two more sacrifices to Khorne, two more pitiful lives wasted. Worthless blood, but at least it seemed there was one Servant around here who would be worthwhile to offer the Blood God. 

Kill. Maim. Burn.

The mantra echoed in Angron’s head as he headed towards the parking lot. There were weaklings running from a dark, shadowy figure up ahead. There was an aura of menace, of proper... challenge coming from this one. Diminutive in stature as compared to one of the Astartes, but there was no concealing the killer’s aura.

KILL. MAIM. BURN.

That gaze was full of many things. Anger. Challenge. Pride. But most of all bloodlust. All thought was starting to leave Angron’s head as the chant of his god began to make its way through his head, the dark glow of the Mad Enhancement becoming ever more prominent.

KILL. MAIM. BURN.

“No... no talK. OnLY PaIn. KhORnE will feASt TOniGht!” He could not help but smirk, then grin, then laugh at the boast, voice deepening and distorting as the madness spread even further. 

“StROnGeSt mAn? maYBe...” He took a fighting stance, axes at the ready.

“BuT i aM A MaN nO loNGEr.

KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL KILL

Charging. Rushing forward, the axes swing at his opponent’s head. No thought, no speech, only the urge of brutality.

It has begun.

Violence

[angelofkhorne-blog]

@velvetdasher

The instinct was there again. To maim, burn, kill. It was lesser than in his previous life and form, less pulsing and pounding. Less.

But it needed to be sated somehow.

So here was Angron, hulking and brutal as he swung his axe again and again in this grove of trees. Two by two they were felled, axes swinging one way or the other. He was surrounded by all sorts of trees, mind focused only on the destruction of what was around him. He was paying no heed to what was nearby and failed to notice or care that the axes were swinging straight towards somebody’s very vulnerable neck.

After all, what’s a dead body to a murderer?

[angelofkhorne-blog]

mgm48:

A chuckle fell from her lips at his response. 

“Oh no, don’t get me wrong. I did mean you are no physical weapon, but the fact that you are a fighter, that is enough. But a slave has its own merits, no? You’re useful, for something.”

Her smile faltered at his response. 

“… You are really no fun. Perhaps I won’t give you that satisfaction. I don’t bleed. But I at least deem everyone worthy of my time. I am born, again and again, to fight, to be expanded. A physical weapon to be used and held. Pulled until the bullets run out.”

“Tch... slave. I thought I’d discarded that title once, traded it in for many more. What does it matter to be useful if one is not free? To seize opportunities, to be treated as an equal?” He shook his head. “I had just a taste of it once, seized by the spirit of revolution and dying. I would give anything for it.”

“You misunderstand, little spirit.” It had been ages since he had thought this clearly, since he had been able to put together a coherent sentence. “I have not had the pleasure of being able to speak and function like this in a while, not in any way been able to still the instinct to rampage and kill. Should I engage in combat it could once again be lost to me. I will not give this little freedom up for just any opponent.”

After all, that first kill would have to be something very special indeed.

[angelofkhorne-blog]

mgm48:

“Hmm, that’s rather interesting. So would you be a fighter, made to think he was a weapon? You should’ve fallen for that! It would have been so beautiful! But ah, a large melee weapon, you would be.”

She doesn’t even stop, she continues. As though proud of the fact that she is nothing else but a weapon, personified.

“I’m a weapon! I’m a machine gun! Would you like to have a taste of my bullets?”

“Not quite.” A deep scowl was etched into his face. “I said I was no physical weapon, but I am still something of a tool. Vat born, sculpted and shaped into a fighter and slave, used again and again. There is no joy in that.”

“Only if you think you’d have a chance at fighting me, little machine spirit. My god requires blood, but I’d prefer to fight those who are worth my time.” There is no arrogance in those words, only brutal fact. This was a man who was born to kill, and had done so again and again for eons.

[angelofkhorne-blog]

mgm48:

@angelofkhorne

“My… such a heavy build. Are you a melee weapon? Or perhaps… a cannon?”

A quirked eyebrow. “I am no physical weapon, although my Father might tell you otherwise. If I were a weapon... I probably would be a chainaxe, or perhaps a greatsword. Are you a weapon then?”

[angelofkhorne-blog]

drachenhaut:

  As he heard the Berserker talk with no problems whatsoever Siegfried lets go of the handle of his sword, he was certainly glad things didn’t have to go like he thought they would be. Being able to talk with a Berserker was still rather odd for him, even when he had met a number of Berserkers back in Chaldea.

  “I agree, at this moment I think we should focus on what these AIs want us to do, I do have people waiting in that ‘void’ they mentioned. But, is it not weird for the AI that was supposed to know everything on this ‘world’ of them? One should be wary to this strange situation. Don’t you agree?”

It was, Angron supposed, the nature of the Butcher’s Nails and this war that was allowing him to think clearly or at all. The deterioration seemed to have been scaled back, as were their effectiveness, allowing him some level of control and speech. Still, the primarch did not doubt that should it come to combat even his little capability to talk would be stripped from him.

“It is worth wariness, and I have my own few theories. Chief of them concerning my.... f a THER....” That word was enough to trigger a red glow of anger around him, speech becoming growling and more difficult to discern. “It is hIS PlOt and hE has gATheREd us to uSE us... wE ArE puPPEts...” Already the Berserker instinct was kicking in, the urge to push and fight, the Nails embedded in his head shimering with red energy. “gEt bACk WhiLE i mAKe iT StOP...”

[angelofkhorne-blog]

bloodedgeexperience:

@angelofkhorne

              “Whoa, whoa, WHOA!”

       The boy’s response to the figure in front of him was… Not exactly cool-headed. But when one’s faced with something that doesn’t look entirely human in a place where they had all just been told they would be fighting monsters and ‘distortions’, what reaction was he supposed to give? Besides immediately swapping into a combat stance?

       “What the hell, were the monsters supposed to pop up this soon…?!”

Angron had not been entirely expecting to be ambushed so soon after his arrival, but the boy’s outcry had caught his ear. Effective combat stance, strong defense... and he had that aura which was becoming so familiar. No doubt about it, this one was a servant. Monster? Angron was puzzled for a second until he remembered that even out of full Daemon form he resembled nothing less than a hulking, misshapen brute of a man.

“I am no monster, at least not one created of this world. Hone your senses a little: you and I are much the same, boy.” Only in that they were Servants, of course. There was still the raw desire to kill, maim and burn embedded deep within the daemon’s consciousness. “I will not fight, not unless you think you can give me much of a challenge.”

[angelofkhorne-blog]

drachenhaut:

@angelofkhorne

This sensation… Yes, without a doubt he had found a Servant. He clearly didn’t expect to find one so quickly, it was after all just a recognition walk. He didn’t know if the Servant would strike or try to establish verbal communication first. After all, judging by the looks the Servant he was a Berserker. So he had to take a simple bet and be the first one.

 “I suppose that both of us meeting here was mere coincidence, Berserker. Or perhaps were you looking for another Servant?” He had a hand near his right shoulder, ever ready to unsheathe Balmung if he was suddenly attacked.

There was no mistaking the energy coming off the other, even with the limited knowledge the Grail had provided. A Servant. Gripping the handles of his trusted axes the Berserker looked into those eyes. Stoic and shielded. A hero’s eyes, cursed though that label was there was no mistake.

“I learned long ago that there is no such thing as coincidence... Saber.” It was not too difficult to guess at the class of the other. The humongous sword at his shoulder was a dead giveaway, and he did not exude the desire to destroy and consume that the Berserker would. “Besides, I’ve no need to look for other Servants, unless they wish to fall by my hand. There is more blood to be spilt than that of false heroes, if what they said is true and there is a war for us to fight.”

[angelofkhorne-blog]

Cracking his neck once, twice, Angron feels the call of his god.

To save humanity? Feh, the machinations of the Emperor, no doubt about it. Mankind had lost its innocence millennia ago.

It did not matter. What matters is that this is a call to war. To arms. He can hear the blood singing in the veins of those around him, the pulsing of the heartbeats together as one. Whatever lies within these distortions can be fought. And if it can be fought... it can be killed.

Raising the Gorefather Angron roars out in triumph and fury. There shall be blood and skulls for Khorne aplenty on this night, and the nights to come.

[angelofkhorne-blog]

his name is angron b/c he gets angry blame GW not me

was genetically formed to make a superhuman

has daddy issues. like, a lot of them

had friends but now his friends are dead and all he has is shitty brothers

except lorgar lorgar was a true bro and saved his life

by making him a daemon

thanks jackass

likes to fight??? a lot. b/c the adrenaline juice told him so

can talk we can talk about things it won’t be all fights i swear

[angelofkhorne-blog]

HAMILTON | ACT I | SENTENCE STARTERS

send one for my muses reaction!

“You could never back down, you never learned to take your time.” “He looked at me like I was stupid, I’m not stupid.” “Talk less. Smile more. Don’t let them know what you’re against or what you’re for.” “Fools who run their mouth off wind up dead.” “Who’s the best? C'est moi!” “It’s hard to have intercourse over four sets of corsets.” “If you stand for nothing, what’ll you fall for?” “I will lay down my life if it sets us free.” “I imagine death so much it feels just like a memory.” “I’m laughin’ in the face of casualties and sorrow, for the first time, I’m thinkin past tomorrow.” “I’m lookin for a mind at work.” “Excuse me, miss, I know it’s not funny, but your perfume smells like your daddy’s got money.” “You want a revolution? I want a revelation.” “Look around at how lucky we are to be alive right now.” “Chaos and bloodshed are not a solution.” “It’s hard to listen to you with a straight face.” “Chaos and bloodshed already haunt us, honestly you shouldn’t even talk.” “You say the price of my love’s not a price that you’re willing to pay.” “You’ll be back. Soon you’ll see. You’ll remember you belong to me.” “When you’re gone I’ll go mad, so don’t throw away this thing we had.” “When push comes to shove, I will kill your friends and family to remind you of my love.” “Close the door on your way out.” “Have I done something wrong?” “Dying is easy, living is harder.” “But what do we have in common?” “You walked in and my heart went ‘Boom’!” “I’m about to change your life.” “My love for you is never in doubt.” “I just might regret that night for the rest of my days.” “I’ll never forget the first time I saw your face.” “When you said “Hi” I forgot my dang name, set my heart aflame, ev'ry part aflame.“ “You’re like me. I’m never satisfied.” “He’s a bit of a flirt, but I’m ‘a give it a chance.” “I’m a girl in a world in which my only job is to marry rich.” “From what I hear, you’ve made yourself indispensable.” “Well, well, I heard you’ve got someone special on the side.” “I will never understand you.” “Love doesn’t discriminate between the sinners and the saints.” “I am the one thing in life I can control.” “If there’s a reason I’m still alive when so many have died, then I’m willing to wait for it.” “Stay alive ‘til this horror show is past.” “I’m a general. Whee!!!!” “Yeah. He’s not the choice I would have gone with.” “Don’t do a thing. History will prove him wrong.” “I can’t disobey direct orders.” “Pick a place to die where it’s high and dry.” “Pray that hell or heaven lets you in.” “Should have shot him in the mouth. That would’ve shut him up.” “Watch your tone. I’m not a maiden in need of defending, I am grown.” “My name’s been through a lot, I can take it.” “The fact that you’re alive is a miracle.” “I don’t pretend to know the challenges you’re facing.” “If you could let me inside your heart…” “I’m never gonna stop until I make ‘em drop and burn ‘em up and scatter their remains.” “You have no control who lives, who dies, who tells your story.” “History has it’s eyes on you.” “So what happens if we win?” “If this is the end of me, at least I have a friend with me.” “Oceans rise. Empires fall. It’s much harder when it’s all your call.” “I swear that I’ll be around for you.” “Why do you assume you’re the smartest in the room?” “Why do you write like you’re running out of time?” “Yo, who the f is this?” “What are you waiting for? What do you stall for?” “If I could grant you peace of mind, would that be enough?” “They are asking me to lead. I am doing the best I can.”

[angelofkhorne-blog]

The former primarch had not expected such a... wordy response. That kind of flair to those words, the slight little upturned “I am better than you” sense, was very much like his brother Fulgrim. That pinnacle of arts and culture, that paragon of perfection, someone who had been allowed to live and be himself. He had fallen to corruption, of course, but at least that was something he was able to well and truly choose.

Angron had hated Fulgrim passionately.

“Because Khorne cannot be fed on the blood of innocents alone.” A relenting grunt, and Angron’s grip loosens on the Father and Child. This one would not be a worthy first battle in this place. “Besides, killing you would be... pathetic, to begin my path in this city, and I’ve yet to find my Master.” There were few words that Angron could have uttered with such loathing as that, and yet it was spat like bile out onto the city pavement. 

A Primarch’s Path [First Open]

angelofkhorne:

Pain.

Unbearable, unimaginable, excruciating pain.

That was the first sensation to greet Angron, as he felt the oh-so-familiar and horrific sensation of the Butcher’s Nails embedding themselves deep within his consciousness. The world was full of suffering and rage inside his mind, his muscles, his soul, urging him to fight, to maim, to kill. It took all his will to suppress it, but… to suppress the urge? It was impossible. He had never-

And then the flood.

Information surging within. The Grail. The need to serve. He would almost laugh if that did not expend the energy needed to get up, to grip the axes, to walk without giving in to his inner rage. But he needed to know, and to move forward. Was this the doing of the False Emperor? It couldn’t be- it was far too benevolent of him to think to save the people. 

But for now, he had to push forward. Find his Master (what a laughable word that was), and do what needed to be done. Still, Khorne was calling for blood, and Angron turned to the nearest individual and with all the will he could muster grunted out a challenge.

“You… can you fight?”

◘ ◘ ◘ ◘ — He had not intended to approach the giant hulking mass of a man. Things like ‘a sense of privacy’ and ‘self-preservation’ kept his otherwise gregarious nature at bay. Some people made for fascinating conversational partners. Others - well! - it behooved him to exercise caution when choosing whom to introduce himself to.

But a question had been posed and every question was but another opportunity for him to flaunt his esteemed presence.

He leapt to the task.

        ❝ I can certainly defend myself, good sir, yes, but whether or not I want to fight, that’s another matter entirely. Might I ask that you clarify what exactly you want to hear from me? ❞

Because while he would have been more than happy to show off his magic and dazzle with a few pretty little spells, he hadn’t the time nor desire to sweat. Or bleed. Bleeding was just as bad, oh!, and the stains were absolutely dreadful.

Had this man any idea how difficult it was to get blood out of silk? He had nightmares about his garments being speckled with the garish stuff.

[angelofkhorne-blog]

[I am still figuring out the nuances and bits of playing this angry angry man but like this post if you want me to make you a starter. This is uncapped, by the by!]

[angelofkhorne-blog]

A Primarch’s Path [First Open]

Pain.

Unbearable, unimaginable, excruciating pain.

That was the first sensation to greet Angron, as he felt the oh-so-familiar and horrific sensation of the Butcher’s Nails embedding themselves deep within his consciousness. The world was full of suffering and rage inside his mind, his muscles, his soul, urging him to fight, to maim, to kill. It took all his will to suppress it, but... to suppress the urge? It was impossible. He had never-

And then the flood.

Information surging within. The Grail. The need to serve. He would almost laugh if that did not expend the energy needed to get up, to grip the axes, to walk without giving in to his inner rage. But he needed to know, and to move forward. Was this the doing of the False Emperor? It couldn’t be- it was far too benevolent of him to think to save the people. 

But for now, he had to push forward. Find his Master (what a laughable word that was), and do what needed to be done. Still, Khorne was calling for blood, and Angron turned to the nearest individual and with all the will he could muster grunted out a challenge.

“You... can you fight?”