#Isstvan

[wh40kartwork]

The Phoenician

by David Ok

[the-random-hamlet]

Not Mine. Thought to Share.

[tagedeszorns]

He must die! Otherwise he will kill you! Fulgrim looked down at his defeated opponent and saw his own reflection in the mirrors of Ferrus’s eyes. In an instant that stretched for an eternity, he saw what he had become and what monstrous betrayal he had allowed himself to be party to. He knew in that eternal moment that he had made a terrible mistake in drawing the sword from the Laer temple, and he fought to release the damnable blade that had brought him so low.

McNeill, Graham. Fulgrim (The Horus Heresy Book 5) (S.486). Black Library. Kindle-Version.

The demon not giving a rat's arse for Ferrus and Fulgrim's feeling for his brother is the most intense thing in that book.

[martialeagle]

An excerpt from Flight of the Eisenstein, by James Swallow

Context: The fourth book of the Horus Heresy series. At the Drop Site Massacre, traitorous Space Marines release virus bombs over the planet Isstvan III, to kill the remaining loyalists in their legions.

Temeter and Huron-Fal were at the shallow ridge before the bunker’s steel hatch, shouting at their kinsmen to run and run, to run and not look back. Temeter felt a pang of fear, not for himself, but for his men. They had responded perfectly to his command, falling back in good order and surging away from the enemy along the trench lines they had already cleared. Hundreds of them were already in the bunkers, sealing themselves in to weather the imminent bombardment, but there were many more he knew would not live to make it to the doors. He looked up again at the sickly sky and Temeter became torn inside. Who betrayed us, he asked himself, echoing the aged Dreadnought’s question? Why, in Terra’s name, why?

‘Ullis!’ barked the old warrior, stomping to his side. ‘Get in there! We have only a few seconds!’ ‘No!’ he retorted. ‘My men first!’

‘Idiot!’ growled Huron-Fal, throwing protocol to the wind. ‘I will stay! Nothing will be able to crack my hide. You go, now!’ He shoved Temeter with his colossal manipulator claw. ‘Go inside, damn you!’

Ullis Temeter stumbled back a step, but his gaze was still on the sky. ‘No,’ he said, just as flickers of brilliant light turned the day a glittering white.

At high altitudes overhead, the first wave of the virus warheads detonated in series, a wall of airbursts instantly unleashing a black rain of destruction. The viral clades, capable of hyper-fast mutational change and near-exponential growth rates, feasted on native airborne bacteria. The thin, dark bloom of the death cloud rolled out over the Choral City, just as the second wave fell. The shells did not explode until they hit the ground, bursting to smother city districts, open fields and trench lines with tides of destructive haze.

The life eater did as it had been engineered to do. Where a molecule of it touched an organic form, it spread instant, putrefying death. The Choral City, every living thing, every human, animal, plant, every organism down to the level of microbes was torn apart by the virus. It leapt boundaries of species in a second, burning out the life of the planet. Flesh rotted and blood became ooze. Bones shredded and turned brittle. Isstvanians and Astartes alike died screaming, united in death by the unstoppable germs.

Temeter saw the warriors running towards him, dying on their feet. Figures fell to the mud as their corpses turned to a red broth of fleshy slurry, viscous fluids seeping from the chinks in their power armour. He knew that he had dallied too long, and he shouted with all his might. ‘Close the hatch. Close it!’ The men in the bunker did as he told them, even as he tasted blood in his mouth and felt his skin prickling with budding lesions. The metal door slammed shut and hissed with a pressure seal, locking him out. Temeter hoped they had been quick enough. With luck, they would not have taken any of the virus inside with them. He managed two stumbling steps before he fell, the muscles in his legs singing with agony.

Huron-Fal caught him. ‘I told you to run, you fool.’

The captain flung off his helmet with a final, agonised gesture of defiance. It was useless now, the virus having moved effortlessly through the breather grille and into his lungs. His hand flailed at the metal flank of the Dreadnought and traced a runnel of dark fluid. Even through the pain, Temeter understood. There was a small fracture in the old warrior’s ceramite casing, not enough to have slowed him on the battlefield, but more than the virus needed to reach inside the Dreadnought’s hull and savage the remnants of flesh inside. ‘You… lied.’

‘Veteran’s prerogative,’ came the reply. ‘We’ll go together then, shall we?’ Huron-Fal asked, embracing Temeter’s body to him, moving swiftly away from the bunker.

It took every last effort from Temeter to nod. Blinded now, he could feel the tissues of his eyes burning and shrivelling in his head, the soft meat of his lips and tongue dissolving.

Huron-Fal’s systems were on the verge of shut-down as he stumbled to a safe distance, skidding to a halt. ‘This death,’ rasped the voder, ‘this death is ours. We choose it. We deny you your victory.’

With a single burning nerve impulse, the mind of the warrior at the heart of the Dreadnought uncoupled the governor controls on his compact fusion generator and let it overload. For a moment there was a tiny star on the battered plains outside the Choral City, marking two more lives lost within a maelstrom of murder.

[the-consortium]

What was the most EXTERME surgery you had to do?

Like, under what circumstances, or most immediate?

A dismissive wave. A brief snide pulling down the corner of his mouth. Hard lines in his face deepen for a second. He reaches for his silver case and removes an accurately rolled cigarette. Folds the case back shut with a dry snap and places it with care on one of the stacks of papers that share space on his private desk with various datapads and books bound in human leather.

Without lighting the cigarette, he just plays around with it, letting it dance across his slender fingers with the dexterity of a practised surgeon.

"Extreme …. No, extreme doesn't interest me. My art is always just a means to an end. What I want to create is what matters. Not the circumstances in which it is created. I have worked under every difficulty imaginable and drama is a constant companion in my field of work. I have closed the eyes of good friends and taken their gene-seed. And I have brought brothers back from the brink of death at the last second under fire."

He shrugs. The Chirurgeon makes soft, metallic noises. A mechanical whisper.

"The thing that will probably always stick in my mind as the first step beyond demarcated boundaries is Quin's death on Isstvan. Or, of course, bringing him back. I don't know if he's still angry with me for that. And, admittedly, I don't care. He was the first. And whether the ones that followed were a good idea? Well, thankful none of them were. Eidolon is still sulking like a toddler now. It's his own fault that his healing took longer because he didn't follow my medical advice. No sympathy. In any case, Quin was a milestone for me. Not saved at the last second, but forced back. The standing up to what simple minds probably call fate. That's something that drives me a lot. And in Quin's case, it was accompanied by a significant improvement in his personality. In that respect - certainly one of my more remarkable works."

He smiles narrowly and without modesty.

[robot-roadtrip-rants]

something that doesn't come up very often in the How Bad Is Emps discussion is that he's. he's really old. millennia old. there's no way his sense of time isn't flagrantly broken. i mean look at him! every time we get an immediate perspective on him the dude is making plans with thousand-year timeframes. all of his buddies (well, ex-buddies) are perpetuals. emps has more in common with the eldar or the necrons when it comes to sense of time than he does with literally any non-perpetual, and that includes the primarchs.

just think about it. the primarchs are, what, three centuries old at Ullanor? they're BABIES. ok, maybe they're not babies, they're clearly old enough for simple tasks like systematic genocide and aggressive expansion, but c'mon, they haven't even reached their first millennium. of course emps isn't going to burden them with adult concerns like the encroaching threat of Chaos, or the potential dangers as humans evolve into a psyker species, or the existential challenges imposed by their warp-entity-wearing-flesh natures. they're kids! let them be kids! their brains are still growing, probably.

so yeah, emps holds off on some big conversations. and yeah, he ducks out of the crusade to go work on the webway by himself, what's wrong with that? it's just a few decades! he's spent more than a thousand years uniting humanity, surely he deserves a little time to himself. from emps's perspective, he's just spending an afternoon building a treehouse in his workshop. the kids are old enough to know better than to stick forks into electrical outlets, they'll be okay for an evening. horus you're a responsible guy, you're in charge.

but then like five minutes later magnus fucking bursts through the wall like the kool aid man screaming bloody hell about horus and then the hole he made starts puking daemons everywhere and yeah emps loses his temper and yells but he was gone for FIVE MINUTES. and now there's daemons all over his workshop! magnus what the fuck! only magnus fled as soon as emps started yelling without explaining a damn thing. also the hole is still puking daemons. ok, ok, emps will stay in the workshop and try to fix the hole before everything is covered in daemons, but he still needs to figure out what the hell is going on. leman, you're an obedient kid, hell you're always boasting about it, surely YOU'LL listen. go get magnus--yeah, i know you don't get along, this isn't the time--go get magnus and bring him here so he can explain himself.

emps goes back to the hole and--leman did WHAT? magnus did WHAT? HOW DID THEY FUCK UP BASIC INSTRUCTIONS. hang on, what's this about an isstvan. horus is rebelling? fucking HORUS??? nine legions????? HALF THE ARMY????? wtf wtf wtf oh shit it's chaos isn't it. emps looked away for five minutes and chaos got its claws in his boys. it's been six years. that's like a bathroom break. how did the boys break everything in SIX YEARS???

[nevesmose]

Separation 11347

This was, by Trazyn's infallible reckoning, his eleven thousand three hundred and forty-seventh divorce from Orikan. The Diviner, on the other hand, was adamant that it was in fact only their eleven thousand three hundred and forty-sixth. This dispute was what had caused the current divorce.

At first he had settled contentedly into his usual divorce routine, entering his meticulously-preserved time loop of a "Happy Divorce" party plucked from the Terran city-state of Nova Yoruk in early M3 as the Imperium kept its years.

As had been the case so many times before, the Lord of Solemnace basked over and over again in the reassurance of the assembled middle-aged humans that he was indeed so much better off without that asshole in his life, rounding off the festivities with a cake depicting a miniature confectionery figurine of Trazyn using a guillotine on a similarly-constructed sugar-based effigy of Orikan.

It was all very gratifying, and he was certain that when the amusement faded he would return to find Orikan waiting for him apologetically, his eminently bullyable faceplate resembling a weeping juvenile felid.

It was, however, not to be. He returned to the Galleries to find no trace whatsoever of Orikan. He was so disconcerted that he even briefly considered retrieving his much-prized clone of the primarch Fulgrim from stasis, but decided against it. It had, after all, only been a few subjective decades since he had placed the clone into a detailed diorama of the genuine being's final battle with his erstwhile companion Ferrus Manus for enrichment purposes. He had been thoroughly pleased with himself for coming up with entertainment of such realism and, judging by his mute tears of joy, so too was the clone.

What a wonderful caregiver I am, he had thought, jauntily walking away. Perhaps he and Orikan should adopt, which when used by Trazyn the Infinite is a word which means kidnap, an Astartes or Aeldari together.

Time passed and with no sign of Orikan's return, Trazyn felt it justifiable to seek other outlets for his multifarious urges. After exhausting every category on Cronhub and getting banned from Nemesorindr, he arose to find that the necrodermis of his lower limbs had spontaneously reformed itself into the shape of a baggy, ill-maintained example of the Terran garment known as sweatpants.

This could not stand. He resolved that he would start A Project, an undertaking of such majesty and glory that no one, least of all that cycloptic fool Orikan, could deny him the attention he deserved.

After brief forays into stop-motion animation and painting miniature Space Marines (accomplished by shrinking normal Astartes through arcane technosorcery and ignoring the resulting high-pitched noises as he applied pigment of a much too viscous consistency to their battleplate) his thoughts returned once more to his display of the battle between the primarchs on Isstvan V.

Theirs was a tragic tale of heartfelt companionship severed by corruption and betrayal. He himself had mentally projected several hundred phaeronfics about them to the great repository of the Necron race whose name, although untranslatable into any other language, was best rendered as The Sarcophagus-Belonging-To-Us-Alone, and some of them had even received multiple scarabs of approval from the discerning audience entrapped there forever.

Surely, he reasoned with the confidence of a being who had long since activated the developer console of his necrodermis body and manually increased its confidence, intelligence and charisma variables to 100, this meant that no one other than he could restore their friendship.

And so, in single-minded pursuit of compassion and friendliness, the Archaeovist and his forces wrought a swathe of destruction across the galaxy.

A foray into the Eye of Terror itself resulted in the capture of Fulgrim through the use of a vast two-pronged stick to pin the writhing daemon prince to the ground where he had been basking one day, while the sacrifice of his entire collection of ancient Terran doujinshis to the haemonculi of Commorragh itself had given him forbidden knowledge sufficient to wrest back the very soul of Ferrus Manus himself and place it into a suitably prepared necron host body via the biomorphic resonance of the necrodermis which had coated his hands in life.

Finally, the moment of glory came. The daemon Fulgrim and the metallically resurrected Ferrus Manus were placed into the same containment chamber and -

It was not at all what Trazyn had hoped. After a monumental bout of hand-to-hand combat lasting for hour upon hour, the two primarchs had settled into an uneasy stalemate, in the sense that Fulgrim was currently coiled around a light fixture on the ceiling and Ferrus had run out of objects to throw at him.

"You're even uglier now than you were when you had flesh," Fulgrim hissed venomously.

"And you were more of a snake then than you are now," Ferrus shot back, the frozen inexpressiveness of his necrodermis faceplate matching the famously stone-faced countenance he had displayed in life.

Fortunately Trazyn, who never made a mistake of any kind whatsoever, had prepared for such an eventuality. A concealed slot opened in the ceiling of the containment chamber, dislodging Fulgrim from his perch, and through the opening there descended a vast garment of woven silver-metallic fabric, emblazoned with inscrutable Necron symbols and sized in such a way as to accomodate the bodies of both primarchs.

"This is your get along shirt," Trazyn said, his voice amplified throughout the containment chamber. "You will wear it."

[remembrancer-of-heresy]

The Maiden and the Knight

Summary: Lucius meets a mortal girl who understands his perfection and skill in fencing. And he experiences new destructive feelings.

Lucius The Eternal/fem!Reader

Warnings: Dark romance, Yandere, Obsession.

By the Throne, how I love these hedonists and degenerates

Lucius strived for perfection, and although he loved art. But his main passion remained the use of the sword. The remembrancers admired his skill, but the Space Marine knew that it was not the same. They flew like bees from one warrior to another, continuing to create new work one after another. While Lucius continued to hone his fencing skills.

You were one of the many remembrancers on the Pride of the Emperor. Not the most famous and not the most outstanding. You could easily get lost among all the artists, composers and poets. Somehow, you not only managed to meet him in person, but also asked to become his personal remembrancer.

This didn't surprise Lucius at all. He is one of the best, if not the best, among the Emperor's Children. Mortals are obliged to praise him through paintings and poems. But over time, his acceptance of you gave way to confusion, surprise... inspiration.

You didn't just admire his skills, you analyzed them. You watched every movement, trying to catch the best images. Well, when he made special moves, you completely fell silent in pure admiration. This was usually how mortals reacted to a primarch, good music or magnificent architecture. But all your adoration was focused on Lucius's sword.

It was flattering.

In the end, he still asked you why a mortal girl like you were so interested in following the swordsman. You were so small and fragile, you never held a sword in your tiny hands. But smiling, you admitted that your grandfather and father were swordsmen. Therefore, you were given a love for the art of war, although you could not taste it.

Oh, you didn't have to. It is the job of the Space Marines to protect humanity. The Emperor's children were recognized to participate in the most brutal battles, carving a path to a great future with the sword. And you needed to capture this image. And especially the image of Lucius himself. After all, he is the best one.

Over time, you both began to communicate more and more. You told the man about fencing on other worlds, the history of the knights of Ancient Terra. About their duty and oath. Lucius never thought he could become as attached to a mortal as he is to you.

After Laeran, Lucius noticed that he began to enjoy your company even more. With your voice and knowledge about knights and swords. Unexpectedly for him, Lucius was hooked by the part about the role of women in the history of Ancient Terra. Like beautiful maidens wishing farewell to men before the war, they waited for their return. How they showed signs of attention in the form of ribbons on spears... and how knights shed blood with the name of their beloved on their lips.

The Space Marine tried to find a rational explanation for his obsessions, but could not. An attempt to ask the Apothecary about his strange condition was also unsuccessful. Halfway through, Lucius decided to stop and try to deal with these thoughts himself.

And with the way his body reacted. Every time before going to bed, when he thought about knights and ladies, he felt hot. Every time he put himself and you in their place, his throat became dry. But it would be so lovely. You with tears in your eyes, red lips wish him good luck in the war. And your gentle arms give him a ribbon. Or a lock of hair. A kiss.

You didn't seem to have changed. Despite Lucius's obvious patronage, you refused to go to the temple, arguing that you were scared. After all, quite recently dangerous xenos lived there. The Space Marine was just touched by this. That's right, his job is to fight, and your job is to be afraid and seek his protection.

Alas, your connection was broken for some time. Lucius had to fight against his brothers on Isstvan III, to protect the Emperor. He vowed to serve humanity. But the honor of Saul Tarvitz boiled his blood and he succumbed to anger. The mere thought that Tarvitz would be called heroe and Lucius would not be appreciated filled him with burning hatred. And one tiny thought that you would love Saul's skill... no, a lady should only have one knight.

He won't share.

Lucius finds you in your room. You are still as small and vulnerable, hastily wiping away your tears, trying to smile. Oh... the swordsman knew what tears taste like, but for some reason he wanted to lick them. Just the thought that he and ONLY HE evokes such emotions in you...

“I was afraid that you would die,” you gasp and come closer to him. - “I was so scared. It's horrifying. Everyone seems to have gone mad and only a few remembrancers like me are holding on. I was so sad and lonely, I-I thought”

“Kiss,” the man said in a heavy voice. Noticing your blank look, he swallowed. How beautiful. - “Kiss my sword. I killed my brothers with you in mind. Am I not worthy of attention from my lady?”

Your eyes filled with tears again and your lips trembled. And yet Lucius smelled... a strange smell from you. He couldn’t explain why, but he knew for sure that you yourself liked these new feelings. Eating and swallowing. Such delicious fear. And the fact that only the swordsman can see this... was an excitement.

Lucius carefully watches as you approach the outstretched sword. You don't even have to tilt your head. Your reflection sparkles exquisitely in the blade of the weapon and Lucius gasps as he sees your lips touch his sword. He desperately wants to plunge the blade into you, but he holds back.

After all, he must protect his lady.

[fourgods-nobrakes]

Ok so 40k has more canon than anyone can possibly hope to consume all of. BUT we all wind up with our favorite bits, and the ones that say something super crucial about our blorbos, some bit of canon we cling to and that makes a huge difference to us in how we think about them. What one or two stories do that for you with your fave? I'll start:

Aurelian by Aaron Dembski-Bowden: THE crucial character study for Lorgar, more than his primarch novel or even First Heretic. Looks at his feelings in the wake of his conversion, his convictions, what he actually wants for the galaxy, and captures the key transition point right after Isstvan V where he's really internalized how brutal this conflict will have to be. ALSO one of his best 1v1 fights.

"Revelation of the Word" by David Annandale (possibly only audiobook): The canon moment when Lorgar, during the Shadow Crusade, finds out about the developing Imperial Cult—and it's not the meme take of "he got what he wanted" at all.

Now you: what are the key things you would put in someone's hands if you wanted them to understand why you love your fave?

[mactiir]

having read several 30k books about the falls of various chaos legions, Fulgrim is SO funny because it's like:

Horus: externally has SEEMINGLY logical, well-reasoned justifications for engaging in rebellion. Post Isstvan, he is approximately the same guy as before and externally reasonable, even if he is cold, cruel, and calculating

Angron: literally exactly the same before and after rebelling, the man has a chip in his brain that makes him love murder so loyalist!Ronnie and rebel!Ronnie read basically identically. the rebellion doesn't change him that much at first in terms of the level or intensity of his murderhoboing

Magnus: the fall of the Thousand Sons is like a Shakespearean tragedy level of pride and misunderstanding, but Magnus going to Horus makes perfect sense especially considering he is literally like 20 ghosts in a trenchcoat, and he's clearly still ~trying~ to do his own fucked up version of the right thing after getting Bane'd by Russ

Fulgrim: picks up a sword and INSTANTLY becomes the most vindictive mentally unstable honors kid you've ever met. Polite art loving loyalist to BATSHIT Dorian Grey in 100 pages. Decides who will die on Isstvan III not based on their loyalties, but on who has dealt him narcissitic injuries (based on what a talking demon sword is telling him). Engages in heated debates with a portrait of himself painted in the blood and viscera of a murdered man. Stabs his captain in his quarters and gets kind of turned on about it approximately. 5 seconds after deciding to turn on the emperor. This man was a corked bottle of pure chaos just waiting for a screw and it is amazing.

[pallysuune]

"‘You won’t believe how I got here,’ (Sevatar) said to Rushal.

The Raven didn’t reply. He hadn’t replied to anything since Isstvan V. It was difficult to speak without a tongue."

-Prince of Crows by Aaron Dembski-Bowden

The fact that this is how the book casually tells you why Rushal never speaks (three quarters of the way through the book, I might add), tells you a lot about the narrative style. I love it so much.

[wh40kartwork]

Brother Against Brother

by Márton Kapoli

Isstvan III

[sleepyfan-blog]

Intake Form

Author's note: this is the first part of Lykos' backstory in the Husbandry AU! I hope you enjoy it. Next

Tagged:

Warnings: none, please ask me to tag something if it bothers you/I missed it

Summary: Lykos reports to a nearby base. He's given an intake form and has questions because of what he's asked about.

“I was told this is one of the nearby Astartes bases that accept Astartes from several different legions, rather than hosting a single legion?” Lykos stated, his hands clasped behind his back as he looked down at the startled mortal sitting behind the welcome desk at the base that he had presented himself at. 

He had found himself upon this strange world a handful of days ago, and had wandered until he found civilization. The chaplain was glad that he had been suddenly transported upon this world in his usual all-black armor and cape as he would have found the abrupt transition more distressing were he without his armor and weapons. Not that he had yet to need either, but like most Astartes, Lykos spent more time inside his armor after he had earned it, than outside of it.

“I… Yes, that’s correct. We have. We have an intake form for you to fill out, if you don’t mind…?” The baseline mortal explained, handing over an astartes sized, thin block of wood with… Was that real paper upon it? Fascinating! He had seen the forest full of trees on the outskirts of the city, but Lykos had no idea that the supply of wood was in such abundance to use paper. They also handed him a writing implement as well. 

“I will fill this out, thank you.” He murmured, smiling a little at the mortal. He’d removed his helmet upon entry to the base, having clipped it to his belt, to appear slightly more friendly. The skull mask of a chaplain’s helmet was meant to be intimidating, but he was not angling for being terrifying at the moment. Lykos could see the tell-tale signs of this base being inhabited by Ultramarines, so the luxury of paper wasn’t that much of a surprise to the chaplain. He walked over to one of the astartes-sized seats and felt himself sink into the very comfortable seats, leaning back a little as he diligently answered the questions. He briefly thumbed through the packet of paper he’d been given, before starting to read through the first question.

What is your name, rank, and Legion/chapter/war-band association? … Lykos was curious as to what was meant by chapter and war band, but he would refrain from asking until he completed this bit of paperwork. Chaplain Lykos Sirak, Word Bearers Third Company.

Time, date and location previous to arriving in this world? … The implication being that it was a common enough occurrence for Astartes to be randomly arriving on this world without being sent here deliberately was a fascinating one.  18:33, M031.876 Monarchia, Khur. Khur had been brought into compliance almost sixty years ago, and he had been helping to develop Monarchia into the place of beauty and worship that his gene-father had hoped it would become. 

Lykos went to read the next question. There was a preface written before it. If you have heard of the Drop Site Massacre, or the Battle of Isstvan three, please read and answer the next five questions to the best of your abilities. If you have not, skip to question 8.

He had heard of the world Isstvan three, but only in passing. It was a world that was either in the process of being integrated into the Imperium, or recently had been. The chaplain mentally shrugged and dutifully skipped down to question eight.

Have you noticed any unusual changes in your superior officers and/or Primarch in the past few days/weeks/months or years? If so, can you pinpoint when they started to change, and list possible triggers for them to have started to act differently than they had previously. The answer to this question is confidential and will not be discussed with others unless you indicate a desire to do so in person. Please be as specific as possible.

Well… That was an ominous question. Lykos closed his eyes for several moments, going into a meditative state as he genuinely considered the question asked of him. He had been serving the Word Bearer’s legion for two hundred years as a chaplain, and a hundred and fifty before his promotion into the roll that had been created by his Primarch, as a way to minister to the spiritual and emotional needs of his sons, along with a way to encourage the compliance of new worlds into the Imperium with the potential of not having to fire a single shot. Yes, this sort of compliance was slower than the violence-forward methods that other Legions employed, but the citizens seemed to be grateful to not be trampled to death by the ceramite boots of their new rulers.

Lykos wrote down the truth as he knew it. As far as he was aware, his superior officers had been not been acting strangely. Lykos did not have the honor of interacting directly with his Primarch, and thus, could not say if the Imperial Son was acting strangely, and wrote that down. He then focused on the next question. 

What are the dominant belief/faith or faiths of your legion/chapter/warband? Do you hold these beliefs, or do they differ? If they do differ, please explain the differences between the two. 

Lykos hesitated to answer that, keenly aware that most legions would be unhappy to hear that they openly worshiped the Emperor of Mankind as a god, given the Imperial Truth that they were all supposed to espouse the Imperial Truth… But he had been honest on this form so far, and to lie now felt… Disingenuous. Besides, there was enough room on the paper to fully explain the reasoning behind why he and so many of his fellow Word Bearers believed in the divinity of The Emperor, which Lykos used.

What do you know of Chaos?

The… The theological concept? The inherent randomness of the universe? Lykos was baffled and wrote down what he knew about the concepts of chaos. Considering the amount of room to answer that question with, there was far, far more to the question of chaos than the chaplain knew. Ah well, if it was something he needed to know on this world, Lykos was fairly sure that someone would explain.

Are you a psyker? Nope. He had no psychic ability, though there were some in his legion gifted  with such abilities. 

Have you dabbled in sorcerous arts, or consider yourself to be a sorcerer or warlock? If so, please list the major abilities you possess and the contracts you have entered into. … Well that was blunt and pointed. Again, no, Lykos hadn’t and wrote as much. 

The next several questions were asking about the kinds of missions that he had completed, his medical history including any prosthetics, distinctive markings/tattoos/scars he may have, and a request to list all of the weapons and the kind of armor he was in possession of. Questions about battles that he had participated in, honors won and lost. Lykos dutifully answered each and every question to the best of his abilities, pausing every so often to stretch out his writing wrist and fingers before continuing until he had written out his full history as he knew it. 

Do you have any rivals/enemies among your fellow astartes? Lykos suppressed a chuckle. Some of the more passionate and stubborn of his Brothers had found Eternal Rivals and Bitter Enemies amongst both their brothers and other legions. But as far as he knew, Lykos had no enemies like that. Or at least, he didn’t consider any astartes an enemy or rival in such a way, and wrote that down.

The next few questions were about which legions or chapters (whatever a chapter was) he would prefer to interact with, those he’d rather avoid if possible, and other sorts of preferences and dislike questions, which he answered with mild amusement and confusion. He would work with whoever he was assigned to do so, regardless as to whether or not he liked them interpersonally. Part of a chaplain’s training was to ensure that one could separate their own emotions and put them on hold while dealing with whatever situation or emergency was going on… More so than most other kinds of Astartes. 

Those questions were also the final questions that he was supposed to answer on the form as while there were other questions, the qualifying statements that stated whether or not he was to answer of them did not apply to him. For which Lykos was grateful, as he had spent a couple of hours writing down all of these answers. He suppressed a yawn as he got up and stretched before walking over to the mortal who’d given him this form. He smiled politely at them and said “Here you go. I have answered all of the questions that I am supposed to on this form. I have questions about some of the questions on this form.”

“That doesn’t surprise me. I probably can’t explain most if not all of your questions, but I can offer you several brochures that have been created for Astartes who’ve recently arrived on Earth… Or as Astartes call our world, Terra.” The baseline answered, taking the form, board and pen from Lykos, casually dropping an inexplicable information bomb on poor Lykos who hadn’t been expecting that.

“T-Terra? I’m… I’m on Terra? But-” Lykos spluttered, about to point out that there hadn’t been this much plant life on Terra in millenia. 

The baseline raised a hand before saying “Before you tell me something you’re probably not supposed to, I would strongly recommend that you read these brochures. One of the Astartes practiced in helping Astartes new to Earth settle in will be by soon. In the meantime feel free to wander around the lobby and other publicly marked rooms of the base. Any door that is locked is not meant to be entered unless you have the key for it.”

“I… Alright. I’ll… I’ll read through these.” Lykos murmured, internally reeling still as he took the offered information pamphlets. They were astartes sized and also made out of yet more paper. He settled down into another astartes-sized chair and began to read the first brochure. It was titled “Welcome to Terra, Loyalist.”

[quietbluejay]

Prince of Crows

atmospheric so i wonder will i get more of a grasp on Lion from this novella

this is the ultimate showdown of ultimate destiny good guys bad guys and explosions as far as the eye can see anyways looks like ADB is enjoying some purple prose huh how did Curze survive this he's been badly wounded by Lion, many, many times lion externally: fall lion internally: why won't you die???

you know what, considering i was sitting alone in the dark on my computer during my dnd game, i get it so there's 3 sets of red eyes glowing why is this so funny to me so from context we can gather that: -these 3 are night lords -possibly the only three that escaped a battle -battle started with ambush -opponents are dark angels

the other problem is figuring out who is in command of these clowns okay they have Curze and they're trying to treat him also it got mentioned that Sevatar sacrificed himself well surprise he's here

sevatar: well i guess we know how the raven guard felt sevatar: things are looking bad sevatar: i like you three the least dude 1: This is not the time for your sense of humour he's got a fun sense of humour, Sevatar, I see why people like him

so they want to regroup and strike back at the dark angels sevatar calls them idiots dude's also got style honestly i think maybe i just have a disconnect a lot of the time when it comes to ADB's writing like I feel like it should be emotionally affecting me more but it doesn't well the Black Legion books did more, also I should reread them at some point lol but i had the same experience with Betrayer it's still a good read though don't get me wrong as usual when i feel like i should be getting something from a book that I'm not, I go into overanalysis mode "i should be loving this, why don't i" anyways tldr he leaves his spear there, it's got a special effect, one of the three notices and goes for the door and the other two don't sevatar: you noticed so you get to live dude who noticed calls him insane

so Sevatar doesn't feel sorrow when he sees Curze in the apothecarion meanwhile he hears all his brothers, murderers, torturers, flayers etc weeping

yikes also apparently curze talks to the bodies!\ I like this guy Trez

dude hasn't slept in 2 weeks oh it's another chronic pain dude

eyes emoji

time to meet the new night lord command crew interesting bunch

lmao also owo what is up with the Raven Guard dude who switched sides after isstvan v?? gahh i keep wanting to read about isstvan v but it's in a bad book

click click aw man he really does care about curze

is this baby curze??

i think it is baby curze man like were they babies or young children when they came out of their pods i guess it varied??

the night haunter grapples with concupiscence:

owo

oh this is very interesting also another point in favour of the foiling of dorn and curze in that they both deny themselves personhood for the sake of a higher ideal

wow the emperor straight up blinded people lmao and thus Curze and Sevatar meet inside Curze's head

i dunno, I don't think well okay, Angron doesn't hate his legion he just doesn't care one way or the other about them

uh aren't space marine recruits children

ah man

he doesn't get it and there's no way for him to get it

DRAG HIM

i am kissing sevatar on the mouth do you know how long i have waited for SOMEONE, ANYONE in warhammer to give a speech like this and Sevatar is back in the real world and they're about to be attacked by the Dark Angels

XD also very interesting is the focus on servitors as lobotomized slaves in the POV of all the characters in this or well not focus but how it gets brought up multiple times everyone else in other works just sort of treats servitors as things interesting

you know what sevatar is a great character to throw at idw1

ah konrad is up and about

sevatar internally: sigismund doesn't have to deal with this shit

WOW HE CLUNG TO SIDE OF SPACE FIGHTER SHIP TO MAKE IT TO THE DA SHIP

incredible anyways finished it! very interesting

[wyn0rrific]

Vitus Lore Masterpost Thingy

i've finally decided to make a singular post dedicated to all the lore i have for (one of) my space marine oc Vitus!

Adding all the info under the cut since it's lengthy but I do hope yall enjoy reading about my lil guy!

Gen. Info:

Name: Vitus

Pronouns/Gender: He/She (Bigender)

Sexuality: Bisexual

Height: 6'11"

Affiliation: Loyalist Emperor's Children Apothecary (Pre-Heresy)

Early Childhood/Pre Great Crusade

Vitus was born on Chemos, several (Teran) years after Fulgrim's discovery. He was born with a hearing impairment that left him unable to speak properly, teaching himself how to read/write as his parents neglected him due to the constant work-to-survive cycle. Vitus and Fulgrim eventually meet after many instances of Vitus watching him from afar, amazed by Fulgrim's inhuman growth/adaptability. The interaction was awkward at first as the two couldn't understand each other. Eventually, Fulgrim understood Vitus' impairment, offering to learn/teach Vitus proper sign language as she only knew her own made up signs. Vitus was taught different forms of texts/cultures from Fulgrim, while they both learned Chemosian sign language (They essentially developed it themselves). The arrival of the Emperor overwhelmed Vitus, shocked by Fulgrim's reaction and the reveal of his status as a primarch. He begged him to bring Vitus back to Terra, exclaiming her interest in staying by his side and wanting to help the Imperium. Fulgrim eventually agrees, bringing Vitus with him, starting both of their paths in the Emperor's Children Legion.

Great Crusade Era

Vitus eventually ranks up to becoming one of the legion's apothecaries. He worked passively, spending more time in the flagship's apothecarium as requested by Fulgrim as he was worried for Vitus' safety. Within leaving Chemos and becoming an apothecary, Vitus was given hearing aids built by techmarines. This allowed Vitus to hear (somewhat) properly. However, this caused higher frequencies to sound 10x louder than normal, resulting in overstimulating him. Even with the aids, Vitus remained mute. Vitus being mainly in the apothecarium allowed him to get closer to Chief Apothecary Fabius Bile. She admired Bile, wishing to know just as much as he did while not understanding his evil intentions. During the early days of the legion, Fulgrim joked Vitus being Bile's "mini-me" as the two were seen together often/acted the same. Because of the similarities, most of the astartes stayed away from Vitus, refusing to acknowledge his impairment. Out of the entire legion, only Fulgrim, Fabius, and the Brotherhood of the Phoenix understood Vitus' signs (some were taught high gothic sign as well).

Horus Heresy Era

After the crusade on planet Murder, Vitus was sent back to Chemos to assist with the recruitment of astartes. During his absence she missed key events such as the Laer expedition and Isstvan III, dodging the fall to Slaanesh most of his brothers faced. He eventuality returns to the 28th expedition as requested by Fulgrim. He was invited by the primarch to view the opening of the La Fenice. Once arriving back, Vitus noticed many changes within the legion. Things felt... off. One of the main giveaways of the legion's corruption was the way Fulgrim treated him, being overly touchy (more than usual) and forgetting that Vitus was unable to speak. He chooses to ignore these changes, noting to speak to the primarch privately on these matters at a later time (which never comes). During the Maraviglia performance, Vitus' hearing device began to malfunction, forcing him to leave the performance hall in search of a tech marine. This results in him missing the entire performance, another bullet dodged.

The Dropsite Massacre slowly approaches, Vitus being confused by the event but not allowing his suspicions to grow as he trusted Fulgrim greatly. Isstvan V opened Vitus' eyes to the horrors of his own legion and the man he once loved/admired. He witnessed Fulgrim slaughter his own brother Ferrus Manus, frozen in horror as his entire existence flashed before his eyes. In response, Vitus attempts to flee the planet, severely overwhelmed/numbed by the battle. He runs into loyalist astartes, begging them to take her with them. Many were reluctant as Vitus beared the armor of the now traitor legion, but was taken as prisoner for questioning. Originally being sentenced to death for being a heretic, Vitus retaliated, exclaiming he'd fight for the Imperium until death as he stole a blade from a nearby astartes. He gouged out one of his eyes, attempting to mutilate himself more until he was stopped. After being probed by a Librarian Vitus is eventually kept alive.

Post Heresy/Current

Vitus' current status is unknown (at least to the public). He does everything he can to stay incognito, dyeing/cutting his hair, self mutilation, etc. Many say he is now dead/self-exiled, while other rumors speak of him serving as the Chief Apothecary of the Imperial Fist chapter, Sons of the Phoenix. He now has a deep hatred for the Emperor's Children, though he doesn't hate Fulgrim. Some say he is actively seeking out the primarch, in hopes that he's still out there alive and healthy.

[tagedeszorns]

Vulkan He'stan

Two versions of him - or rather his ritual branding scars - for Marine Meat Monday.

The Forgefather leads a lonely life that constantly takes him far away from Nocturne into the depths of the galaxy, where he searches alone on his own for the artefacts that the Salamanders believe hold a key to discovering what happened to their missing Primarch.

Contrary to what was said in TTS, it is not the case that Vulkan will simply appear like Father Christmas once the artefacts are collected. The Salamanders are an incredibly independent, stubborn chapter and firmly believe that nothing is given for free. Especially not their beloved Gene-Sire. Instead, the Tome of Fire and the artefacts offer the opportunity to get clues as to what happened to Vulkan.

And unlike their predecessors during the Horus Heresy, the 40k Salamanders are not at all convinced that he is still alive! The famous war cry "Vulkan Lives!" was definitely a 30k thing. More specifically, coined by Pyre Guard Captain Artellus Numeon, a Terran Salamander who, after Isstvan V, didn't believe Vulkan had been killed and who, after the events surrounding Curze's brief reign of terror in Magna Macragge City, dragged Vulkan's "dead" body across the galaxy. And managed the seemingly impossible.

In 40k, "Vulkan Lives" is no longer the flaming sign of unshakable faith. This is no longer the time of the miracles of the Grand Crusade, after all!

Do they hope he's still alive? Sure! But they are also realists. And that's why they do what's possible with what they have.

And when inexplicable things happen now and then, like a Chaplain's destroyed Crozius still working, or a dead Psyker suddenly becoming a Living Flame and simply disintegrating a Chaos Fleet … well, obviously there is still a lot to find out then!

And Vulkan He'stan is just the man to find out!

When he then emerges from the most inhospitable corners of the galaxy every now and then, he is on the one hand very happy to see Prometheus and Nocturne again, but is constantly only too aware of how far away his task removes him from his brothers. Then he allows himself a little melancholy. Shares with the Chapter Master a little loneliness that they both feel. And then he sets off again to fulfil his task.

Because that's what Salamanders do!

It was at He’stan’s request that they’d come to one of the viewing galleries in Prometheus space port. The long chamber was dark, illuminated by brazier coals. The flickering light revealed the icon of the Firedrakes as they pulled the shadows away, only for it to be swallowed as the darkness reasserted itself again a few moments later. ‘Aye, we are humbled by her savage beauty, Lord He’stan.’ Tu’Shan clapped a firm hand upon the Forgefather’s shoulder.

For He’stan it was an odd sensation. He had been apart from his brothers for a long time. His quest for the lost artefacts of Vulkan had taken him to the edges of known space, to sights he would not describe and deeds he would never speak of. To them, his Fire-born kin, he was an enigma, a distant figure whose ways were inscrutable. It was no small thing to return.

Kyme, Nick. Salamanders: The Omnibus (Tome of Fire) (S.741). Games Workshop. Kindle-Version.