bitchofsteel

[bitchofsteel]

Freyja trailed behind, close enough to smell the iron tang of bolter residue and the sickly sweet incense burned in the name of a false and lying god. Before them lay a great monument hewn from the carcass of any even greater tree. Such life was a gift of Ne'ruul, patron of Nature, and they twisted it into the image of their hallowed corpse in mockery of the graceful arts of Shanet. Just looking at the hideous thing put Freyja's blood to a boil.

Under ordinary circumstances, she'd have picked it's makers apart piece by bloody piece, hacking off their limbs with Mercy and Venom, but these were not ordinary circumstances. This was Grythan's trial, not hers. She just had to bite her tongue and keep telling herself that.

She was not here to fight unless necessity demanded it. She was here to observe.

"Freyja! Cousin!" Grythan cried out as he ran towards his elder cousin with something wrapped in a cloth burlap, what ever laid beneath it hidden from his cousin's view. "I brought my art and surgiacal tools, like you asked!" The boy exclaimed excited to having his lesson tutoured by Frejya for once.

"Welcome, little Cousin!" Said Freyja.

She waited for her young protege with open arms, eager to help transform him into a waking nightmare. She would make him into a terror, another man-eating monster to loose against the Imperium like an arrow.

She never felt that way about it, about rearing little brothers, sisters, and cousins. In her mind, she was molding heroes, champions of the Gods who would bring bloody vengeance against their enemies.

Grythan was the first of many, a trade of youths between the Nooseman and the Minstrels. If they trained together, their fire-forged bonds would be near-unbreakable. The allaince between the two warbands would prosper on the backs of the generations to come. "You're my dear Cousin Matthew's kicthen boy, aren't you? Come, child, I have a lesson for you. Today we're going to do some meat carving."

Freyja motioned for the Neophyte to follow, leading him into a rather plain looking room within the Sanctum's high black walls. Within, fresh meat laid on a slab; the carcass of a filthy Loyalist lapdog cleaved in two. Bloody holes were ripped out of his chest and neck where his progenoids had been reclaimed.

"I believe you knew this man, didn't you?"

@cookingintheeye

[bitchofsteel]

FOR THE LAST TIME

👏 APOSTASY is the rejection of a faith after having professed it;

👏 HERESY is selective belief in only some of the tenets of a faith one professes, or belief in tenets contrary to those of a faith one professes;

👏 BLASPHEMY is derogation of the honour due to God.

[bitchofsteel]

[bitchofsteel]

"Stay sharp, Cousin. I will be your shadow, but this is your trial, not mine. This is your revenge. I will not keep you from it."

Ordinarily, Freyja would have let any Neophyte under her care fend for themselves. If they died, then they were too weak to serve the Gods under the banner of the Noosemen.

Grythan was different. Grythan had to be kept alive. Keeping him alive was the linchpin to her whole alliance. Grythan was Matthew's favorite and Matthew had the ear of his entombed chieftain. Were the MInstrels and the Noosemen to continue to work jointly, she had to keep this kid alive.

She stayed close, close enough to see him, but far enough away that he didn't feel stalked.

She could let him suffer injury, his nascent augmentations would ensure he wouldn't get gutted like a mortal, but should his life come under threat, she would devour the bastards who wanted to claim it.

"Freyja! Cousin!" Grythan cried out as he ran towards his elder cousin with something wrapped in a cloth burlap, what ever laid beneath it hidden from his cousin's view. "I brought my art and surgiacal tools, like you asked!" The boy exclaimed excited to having his lesson tutoured by Frejya for once.

"Welcome, little Cousin!" Said Freyja.

She waited for her young protege with open arms, eager to help transform him into a waking nightmare. She would make him into a terror, another man-eating monster to loose against the Imperium like an arrow.

She never felt that way about it, about rearing little brothers, sisters, and cousins. In her mind, she was molding heroes, champions of the Gods who would bring bloody vengeance against their enemies.

Grythan was the first of many, a trade of youths between the Nooseman and the Minstrels. If they trained together, their fire-forged bonds would be near-unbreakable. The allaince between the two warbands would prosper on the backs of the generations to come. "You're my dear Cousin Matthew's kicthen boy, aren't you? Come, child, I have a lesson for you. Today we're going to do some meat carving."

Freyja motioned for the Neophyte to follow, leading him into a rather plain looking room within the Sanctum's high black walls. Within, fresh meat laid on a slab; the carcass of a filthy Loyalist lapdog cleaved in two. Bloody holes were ripped out of his chest and neck where his progenoids had been reclaimed.

"I believe you knew this man, didn't you?"

@cookingintheeye

[bitchofsteel]

The half hour passed quickly and in relative silence. The wardings Freyja's sorcerers had added had ensured that the two of them made planetfall virtually undetected. A great deal of blood had to be spilled for such potent magics, a price Freyja was always eager to pay.

She landed the ancient vessel a few miles out from the Black Templars' camp, a wooded area shielded from prying eyes. But should they find and destroy her bird, she could, at the very least, contact Sublime Vengeance and rest assured that she would make it off this planet one way or another.

The rear door lowered slowly, revealing a rocky forested wilderness outside. These stones were ancient, some of which were marked by arcane carvings likely made by the planet's inhabitants.

"Freyja! Cousin!" Grythan cried out as he ran towards his elder cousin with something wrapped in a cloth burlap, what ever laid beneath it hidden from his cousin's view. "I brought my art and surgiacal tools, like you asked!" The boy exclaimed excited to having his lesson tutoured by Frejya for once.

"Welcome, little Cousin!" Said Freyja.

She waited for her young protege with open arms, eager to help transform him into a waking nightmare. She would make him into a terror, another man-eating monster to loose against the Imperium like an arrow.

She never felt that way about it, about rearing little brothers, sisters, and cousins. In her mind, she was molding heroes, champions of the Gods who would bring bloody vengeance against their enemies.

Grythan was the first of many, a trade of youths between the Nooseman and the Minstrels. If they trained together, their fire-forged bonds would be near-unbreakable. The allaince between the two warbands would prosper on the backs of the generations to come. "You're my dear Cousin Matthew's kicthen boy, aren't you? Come, child, I have a lesson for you. Today we're going to do some meat carving."

Freyja motioned for the Neophyte to follow, leading him into a rather plain looking room within the Sanctum's high black walls. Within, fresh meat laid on a slab; the carcass of a filthy Loyalist lapdog cleaved in two. Bloody holes were ripped out of his chest and neck where his progenoids had been reclaimed.

"I believe you knew this man, didn't you?"

@cookingintheeye

[bitchofsteel]

(Friendly neighborhood cannibal Chaos Lord lady here)

SPACE MARINE 2 ENJOYER??? THINK YOU GOT WRITING CHOPS????? MAKE A AN RP BLOG NOW

And/or add your blog to this list of active blogs for 2024 ⤵️

[bitchofsteel]

Freyja's voice came through the vox caster in the ship's guts. She had taken the pilot's seat, assigning Grythan the hold. The ship could have amassed eight of her brothers and sister, but for now, It carried only the young Scout.

"It won't take long. A half-hour at most. We make for the forest just outside their camp. They shouldn't be far from your brothers' stronghold."

Of course they were still building that hideous monument to their dead god. Oh how satisfying it would be to bring it down upon their heads, to use their 'holiness' as a weapon with which to bludgeon them.

Without another word, Grythan would hear the roar of the Fire Hawk's engines. He would no see Freyja make haste and guide the ancient beast out of the Hangar and into the silent Void.

"Freyja! Cousin!" Grythan cried out as he ran towards his elder cousin with something wrapped in a cloth burlap, what ever laid beneath it hidden from his cousin's view. "I brought my art and surgiacal tools, like you asked!" The boy exclaimed excited to having his lesson tutoured by Frejya for once.

"Welcome, little Cousin!" Said Freyja.

She waited for her young protege with open arms, eager to help transform him into a waking nightmare. She would make him into a terror, another man-eating monster to loose against the Imperium like an arrow.

She never felt that way about it, about rearing little brothers, sisters, and cousins. In her mind, she was molding heroes, champions of the Gods who would bring bloody vengeance against their enemies.

Grythan was the first of many, a trade of youths between the Nooseman and the Minstrels. If they trained together, their fire-forged bonds would be near-unbreakable. The allaince between the two warbands would prosper on the backs of the generations to come. "You're my dear Cousin Matthew's kicthen boy, aren't you? Come, child, I have a lesson for you. Today we're going to do some meat carving."

Freyja motioned for the Neophyte to follow, leading him into a rather plain looking room within the Sanctum's high black walls. Within, fresh meat laid on a slab; the carcass of a filthy Loyalist lapdog cleaved in two. Bloody holes were ripped out of his chest and neck where his progenoids had been reclaimed.

"I believe you knew this man, didn't you?"

@cookingintheeye

[bitchofsteel]

The Coronation of The Warmaster by LJ Koh

[bitchofsteel]

Sons Of Horus Praetor

by jjoail

[bitchofsteel]

I've been working on this once again, it's a little bit closer to completion!

Abaddon has really become one of my favourite characters. That's it.

[bitchofsteel]

Horus And Sanguinius

by Vitaly Perevoshikov

[bitchofsteel]

Invitation

by me

I want to draw a first person view of a corrupted Horus inviting you into his arms?

[bitchofsteel]

Part of the ceiling in the Sedlec Ossuary.

[bitchofsteel]

"Be my guest." Freyja answered.

As this was an exchange, she'd encourage Grythan's sadism just as much as she encouraged it in her own recruits.

"Let your hate for them fester in you, boy! Let it burn through your veins like molten iron. And when the fire threatens to erupt; unleash it upon your foes! Take their flesh, drink their blood, do as you wish.

As long as they are sacrificed one-by-one to the Gods, what you do with them does not matter."

As they walked toward the hangar bay, Freyja motioned her charge closer.

"But I'll let you in on a little secret. Eat their flesh, Grythan. Keep their bones. When you do, you add their power to yours and their souls will be your slaves.

But when you do it for your allies, for worthy spirits, you honor them and give them eternal life in the Otherworld. The Gods have decreed this; flesh and bone is our birthright!"

And with that, the two entered the hangar bay, a great toothy maw of a place overlooking the Minstrel's planet. Their escort would be an ancient Fire Raptor, one taken early into the Long War and retrofitted with massive carving blades on its front. It was every bit a mirror of Sublime Vengeance, an ugly thing scrapped together built with only brutality in mind.

"In!" Freyja commanded.

"I'm flying."

"Freyja! Cousin!" Grythan cried out as he ran towards his elder cousin with something wrapped in a cloth burlap, what ever laid beneath it hidden from his cousin's view. "I brought my art and surgiacal tools, like you asked!" The boy exclaimed excited to having his lesson tutoured by Frejya for once.

"Welcome, little Cousin!" Said Freyja.

She waited for her young protege with open arms, eager to help transform him into a waking nightmare. She would make him into a terror, another man-eating monster to loose against the Imperium like an arrow.

She never felt that way about it, about rearing little brothers, sisters, and cousins. In her mind, she was molding heroes, champions of the Gods who would bring bloody vengeance against their enemies.

Grythan was the first of many, a trade of youths between the Nooseman and the Minstrels. If they trained together, their fire-forged bonds would be near-unbreakable. The allaince between the two warbands would prosper on the backs of the generations to come. "You're my dear Cousin Matthew's kicthen boy, aren't you? Come, child, I have a lesson for you. Today we're going to do some meat carving."

Freyja motioned for the Neophyte to follow, leading him into a rather plain looking room within the Sanctum's high black walls. Within, fresh meat laid on a slab; the carcass of a filthy Loyalist lapdog cleaved in two. Bloody holes were ripped out of his chest and neck where his progenoids had been reclaimed.

"I believe you knew this man, didn't you?"

@cookingintheeye

[bitchofsteel]

You have permission to send me thirsty anons.

[bitchofsteel]

"You," She commanded the living slaves.

"Clean up this mess!" She demanded, pointing to the dead mutant, the remainder of whose blood was beginning to stain the floor.

"And you, boy" She motioned to Grythan.

"With me! You said this 'Captain Baeus' wanted to strike your Warband's training grounds, to kill your little brothers and sisters before they grew to avenge their losses. We will do exactly as they would have done to us.

You will use what you learned, find their camp. I will shadow you and intervene if necessary. I trust that I will not have to do that. Mercy will avail you, and she is a fierce mistress."

Freyja began to make her way towards the exit as her servants carted the corpse of the slain ape-man away. Beside the door was a small table, atop which were half-melted candles and the sliced-open skull of a mortal. In lieu of a brain, the skull was filled with a black grease. With the hand still made of flesh, Freyja smeared some of it on her ceramite-capped fingertips. She rubbed the stuff along Grythan's forehead and cheekbones.

For him it would be more than war paint. The grease would act as camouflage, masking his features in the shadows from which he would strike. For Freyja, the grease was a fierce death-mask, a symbol of her eternal war against the great oppressor.

Now that he was armed, armored, and painted in the fashion of her people. He was ready.

"Freyja! Cousin!" Grythan cried out as he ran towards his elder cousin with something wrapped in a cloth burlap, what ever laid beneath it hidden from his cousin's view. "I brought my art and surgiacal tools, like you asked!" The boy exclaimed excited to having his lesson tutoured by Frejya for once.

"Welcome, little Cousin!" Said Freyja.

She waited for her young protege with open arms, eager to help transform him into a waking nightmare. She would make him into a terror, another man-eating monster to loose against the Imperium like an arrow.

She never felt that way about it, about rearing little brothers, sisters, and cousins. In her mind, she was molding heroes, champions of the Gods who would bring bloody vengeance against their enemies.

Grythan was the first of many, a trade of youths between the Nooseman and the Minstrels. If they trained together, their fire-forged bonds would be near-unbreakable. The allaince between the two warbands would prosper on the backs of the generations to come. "You're my dear Cousin Matthew's kicthen boy, aren't you? Come, child, I have a lesson for you. Today we're going to do some meat carving."

Freyja motioned for the Neophyte to follow, leading him into a rather plain looking room within the Sanctum's high black walls. Within, fresh meat laid on a slab; the carcass of a filthy Loyalist lapdog cleaved in two. Bloody holes were ripped out of his chest and neck where his progenoids had been reclaimed.

"I believe you knew this man, didn't you?"

@cookingintheeye

[bitchofsteel]

"You and I are in need of armor."

Grythan had not yet earned his own armor, that would come in time. That would come at the end of augmentation, when he proved his worth on the battlefield and returned with the heads of his foes. For now, he'd be kitted in the many of every Neophyte of the Noosemen, in leather and steel, decorated with trophies of his own make. Freyja, on the other hand, was to be bedecked in a suit of ancient power armor worn down by and repaired from thousands of battles. Walking to a palm scanner near the door, she laid a gloved hand atop its surface. Even in a body glove, it would recognize her unique genetic signature and call forth her thralls. When it scanned the appendage, what little light in the room that wasn't candlelight turned blood red. That was the signal. Only a moment later, her thralls arrived, serfs and slaves collected in war who owed generational debts to her people. All of these men and women she'd collected herself. Those collected by her predecessor were long dead, for her own reign as Mistress had already lasted a century and a half. The slaves hurried into the room, fearful of what would happen if they were even a moment late.

With painstakingly practiced skill, they pulled plate after plate from the racks and laid it atop their Mistress. She did not even have to pull Venom from the wall; the largest among them, a hairy mutant with the face of an ape retrieved it for her. Drawing a knife, he ran it atop his own hand and rubbed the bloodied appendage all over the weapon's blade.

"FIRST BLOOD!" He bellowed, and his fellow thralls repeated.

Then he sliced open an artery, one easy to sew closed, but ripe enough to bleed profusely. Freyja knelt down to his level and opened her mouth, allowing her servant's blood to coat her lips.

"For the Hunt." He said.

"May the Aspects guide your blade."

"What about him?" Said Freyja, motioning to the Neophyte as her slaves fitted her prosthetic arm to its socket.

"Him? Have I not given enough? He's too young!"

"More!" Demanded Freyja, and without so much as waiting for her thrall to refuse her, she drew a knife and opened the ape's throat.

Cupping her hand, she collected his life's blood.

"Grythan!" She demanded.

"Drink! For the hunt!"

"Freyja! Cousin!" Grythan cried out as he ran towards his elder cousin with something wrapped in a cloth burlap, what ever laid beneath it hidden from his cousin's view. "I brought my art and surgiacal tools, like you asked!" The boy exclaimed excited to having his lesson tutoured by Frejya for once.

"Welcome, little Cousin!" Said Freyja.

She waited for her young protege with open arms, eager to help transform him into a waking nightmare. She would make him into a terror, another man-eating monster to loose against the Imperium like an arrow.

She never felt that way about it, about rearing little brothers, sisters, and cousins. In her mind, she was molding heroes, champions of the Gods who would bring bloody vengeance against their enemies.

Grythan was the first of many, a trade of youths between the Nooseman and the Minstrels. If they trained together, their fire-forged bonds would be near-unbreakable. The allaince between the two warbands would prosper on the backs of the generations to come. "You're my dear Cousin Matthew's kicthen boy, aren't you? Come, child, I have a lesson for you. Today we're going to do some meat carving."

Freyja motioned for the Neophyte to follow, leading him into a rather plain looking room within the Sanctum's high black walls. Within, fresh meat laid on a slab; the carcass of a filthy Loyalist lapdog cleaved in two. Bloody holes were ripped out of his chest and neck where his progenoids had been reclaimed.

"I believe you knew this man, didn't you?"

@cookingintheeye