#Nurglite

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Torglite Mini Master List

Blend in With the Rest

A nothing

Made for one Purpose

[taryn40k]

My friends and I took a test to see our traitor legions and... we are all thousand sons. XD With degrees of secondary legions. But then our fifth was 3% more Emperor's Children... he is the prettiest of the legion but we are not giving him back to Slaanesh. XD

[rga531]

[horuslupercal]

there's something to be said for ugly emperor's child and slaaneshis in general, I think. beauty as a form of mediocrity. sure there's the perfectionism and golden ratio faces and that, in itself, being extremity. no one perfectly fits the golden ratio or whatever, no one is 100% attractive. it's uncanny valley. and so, in a way, "traditional", "researched" beauty can be appealing to them. but I'm far more interested in the inverse and, to my mind, the more common thing they're a fan of -- being ugly as sin. features that might be considered conventionally attractive taken to unattractive extremes (square jaw? try having a head shaped like a cube), visible and intense "undesirable" traits, etc. where's the pleasure in everything looking the same, all monotone shades of golden ratio faces and "ideal" WCRs and WHRs? the researched ideal WCRs and WHRs don't even fall into extremity! too extreme and people don't find it attractive anymore!

[skxrbrand]

Pay attention to any of the trio's particular vanities and play on them, then it will make them a little more willing to reciprocate sensual attentions?

This is probably true for everyone except for Kha'xanzyr.

Send a N S F W headcanon you may have for my muse and see if I like it

[randomnumbers751650]

Sebastos used Ichor to create undying bodies to his people...where have I saw that before?

[wayward40k]

The heiress’s smile warmed a touch at the reassurances, and she settled down with her newfound friend at the table. There was an obvious naive curiosity about how the Farseer would go about divining the future, so she was more than happy to comply with sitting as instructed. Aelinor’s observation got a touch of a blush to cross Clementiya’s cheeks under her mask, and her response was shyly embarrassed. Was it obvious? Had there been paint under her nails again?

“I am! Ever since I could hold a brush, much to everyone’s dismay at one point or another,” she admitted, smiling fondly at the joke her mother used to make. Children were much more open to what could be classified as a ‘canvas’ for their art. “I think I’ve actually painted portraits for some of the lords and ladies here…” Some of them seemed familiar to her, in the way they held themselves and spoke.

And chattering did indeed help her relax a touch. Further coached by Aelinor, Clementiya took a deep breath and tried to go of her present anxieties. Not an easy task, but the closest she’d managed in months.

The question caused the heiress’s smile to flicker, just a touch. “Ah, no, I didn’t. I, uhm… I’m here with my uncle Orswain,” she admitted, sounding a bit ashamed at that. “He says ‘the best way to get to know a party is through the drinks’.” Clementiya was clearly less enthusiastic than the alcoholic had been while saying it.

And Orswain had indeed spent a majority of his night milling around the various sources of alcohol available for the guests, socializing and drinking with anyone willing to do so.

"Nonsense, Clementiya, it is no trouble at all." Aelinor guided her to one of the many tables at the edge of the room, intended for when food was to be served later in the evening. "Please, be seated." She requested, kindly.

The Farseer leaned forward and placed her elbows on the table, her palms raised towards the ceiling as if in meditation.

"Like so." She was lying, of course, but a little air of the theatrical was always welcome in matters of fate and fortune. Or so Aelinor believed, at least.

"You have artists' hands, dear Tiya. You are a painter, yes?" Aelinor glanced around surreptitiously as she opened the pouch that contained her Seers Runes. A little small talk might help the girl relax, Aelinor hoped.

"Relax now, Tiya. Close your eyes and empty your mind of whatever anxieties flow through you." When the young girl did as she was bid, Aelinor sent her runes skittering into the air with but a thought, and they hummed in a pleasant harmony as they spun in a figure of eight that encompassed the two women.

Silently, Aelinor plucked runes from the air and set about divining their meaning.

There was grief, innocence, a plot, and a patriarch turned corrupted guardian to name but a few. The corruption was fascinating, however, it was not a moral or financial corruption, but something... something much worse. Something primordial.

"Did you attend tonight's events alone, Tiya?" Aelinor did not disguise her searching of the crowd, she was scanning for the corrupted Patriarch that her runes suggested. Was it possible that a relation had killed the young girls parents? But as she gazed upon the milling crowds, one thought shouted above all others, an instinct honed by decades of battle and leadership.

Something was not right here.

[plasmometer]

jamilya - cultdancer and world's happiest nurglite

black crusade token

an artist needs to eat subscriptions | tip jar

[phobiato2]

Mwuhahaha, I have finished painting the nurglite tech priest, look at him in all his rotten glory.

I really liked working on this, I got to practice a bit with plasma coils, liquids in containers, and display screens. All of those points being things I could have done better, but still did them.

[cursed-40k-thoughts]

Wait Typhus was so annoying he turned a whole legion off psykers? How’d he manage that

The legion was neutral-negative on psykers due to Mortarion + the Barbarus-born DGs disliking them. Typhus using his own (previously repressed) psyker powers to aid in enslaving the legion to Nurgle didn't sit well with quite a few of them, and exacerbated the sentiment. This, of course, didn't matter a whole lot in the end, because Nurgle instills apathy in his subjects, and so their ire just sort of... fizzled.

The two main groups in the modern DG are (loosely) Mortarion loyalists and Typhus loyalists. In simple terms, the Morty loyals cleave to Mortarion's reasons for disliking the Emperor and the Imperium, and are iffy on Typhus. They try to balance being Nurglites with being astartes. The Typhus loyals are whole-hog Nurgle worship x1000 and think Typhus is doing the right and sensible thing and that Mortarion doesn't recognise the gifts of Nurgle properly. Morty and Typhus don't uh. Don't get on.

To an outsider it's a moot point; they're all diseased and bloated and uncaring horrors that are trying to destroy and infect the material universe in the name of Nurgle. So, y'know.

[kingwithpaintedfingers]

I couldn't think of any specific son who became a tyrant, they all have xD And I recognized the reference <3

Pineapple on pizza is the best. Especially with Canadian bacon or ham, yum

I wonder if/when Games Workshop will finally give an end to WH40K, will they let the Imperium or humanity as a whole just die to finally end their suffering & misery? That seems like a fitting end with all the grimdarkness.

[machinespirited]

We need Chaos Sisters of Battle and Xenos Armies alongside the DarkMech.

Show me a Sister of Battle fallen to Khorne. Show me a T'au who can touch the Warp enough that Tzeench has wormed x's way into its mind. Show me the bloated corpse of a Hive Tyrant, its form swarming with Nurglites as the army begins to sprout cordyceps fungus.

Grabbing adn shaking Games Workshop. GIVE IT TO MEEEEEE

[ladymirdan]

“Having a Nurglite boyfriend is so nice. He is so soft and sweet and cuddly, but whenever he cooks for me I shit fire”

“Then stop eating it.”

“But it's so good tho”

[kit-williams]

Plague Soup for the Soul

Plague Witch!Rader x Typhus the traveler, Herald of Nurgle

Tag list: @bispecsual @egrets-not-regrets @moodymisty @bleedingichorhearts @liar-anubiass-blog

@thevoidscreams @barn-anon @gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan @squishyowl @ms--lobotomy

@plegg

Song on repeat: Hold, Release; Rakshasa & Carcasses

Word Count: 3242 3602 words too many

tw: Casual body horror? Gonna be real people idk how to tag this. Lots of insect stuff, update: SMUT

Food was important for Nurglites. It was embedded deep into their worship, their mythos, always a key part in their legends, and of course highly important to Grandfather Nurgle. For Plague Witches they acted as conduits for two important aspects of their god... as their bubbling cauldrons contained eternal soups and through these soups is how they would preform their magic & spread the love of Grandfather. They say the most skilled Plague Witch would even get a drop of the eternal brew into their cauldron if their soup and their skills of incorporating plagues into the broth was as skilled as how Grandfather did. A good base was the key like with any good soup! Just as much as Love, good ingredients & along with their own ways of enchanting their soups kept them going century after century. But, to get them that far wasn't easy as some would too quick to ravage the body fizzling out rapidly after infecting many... and others would get cold before the potency was there.

Typhus was the Herald of Nurgle... so deeply tied to his god... so he could tell that something had agitated the Lord of Plagues as the Nurglings were not giggling they were frustrated and impatient... no mischievous glint in their eyes, "Dearest little ones," He spoke to the hoard of Nurglings that kept him company the closest one looked up at Typhus with a dopey grin, "What displeases Grandfather? Have I not done enough to sway the Great Game in his favor? Have I not brought his love to enough planets recently?"

Grandpa is pleased with you!" One shouted over the rest before the hoard babbled out, "However, there is a plague witch in your fleet with the most delicious soup! But! They offer such a meager portion that it has taken Grandpa this long to figure out where they are." They babbled excitedly.

Typhus drummed his fingers against his stomach... it couldn't be any of the Plague Witches in his direct service as they all had large bubbling cauldrons and he knew for a fact they gave him & Grandfather their portions; even if it was a new brew they were trying. It had to be a fledgling... a newly blossomed witch with a starter base... Typhus drummed his chin humming. Such a potent base for a young soup... would mean they would be a powerful witch long term and if Typhus mentored him or her... "What is the soup like?"

"OH!" One shrieked as his hoard of nurglings had heard Nurgle praise the concoction, "Grandda says it hits right in the soul! Truly made with love! A perfect base that will lovingly cradle any plague! Grandda must find this witch! They hide from his blessings! I wonder if they are shy?" They all talked over each other leaving Typhus to wonder how to lure the witch out...

The wizened crone rubbed her chin as she was far more pus and pestilence than human at this point as she spat to the side onto a nurgling, "It has to be a fledgling doing this my lord... only one like that would offer so little, not out of being selfish but simply because of how little they have. Cauldrons like these take up so much room." Behind her was her brood of nurglings giggling & babbling as they worked around her cauldron for her as she talked to Typhus. Mortal helpers got ingredients ready passing them off to the bloated demons who giggled as they tossed them into the pot, "There are a couple of fledglings on this ship that I could think might be the ones you're after but their soups aren't even twenty years old... but if it is a fledgling they'll be feeding the masses and perfecting their craft. Though... I question if they are even trying." The crone says dismissively as a nurgling brings a ladle over for her to try and she sips her soup.

"What makes you say that?" Typhus inquires as he is not a Plague Witch and does not peer into the coven politics as why would he they simply have to make sure they give him their best.

"This mythical soup grandfather is looking for doesn't sound like it has any plagues in it. No one on your ship would dare try to make a soup like this without plagues. They might be simply dabbling in the techniques which has made something that infects the soul, a grand base if it exists, which would be wonderful for converting others to the cause. But, there are a few upstarts on other ships in the fleet... that I've heard grumbles and groans from of such young things competing with others whose cauldrons have been bubbling for centuries and millennia. But this is all I can theorize to help my lord." In the list that she gives to Typhus... your name is amongst them.

Your bells jingled as you carried your tiny portable cauldron now full of donated ingredients, used bones, scraps of meat, a few fungi, and other scavenged or bought items. Three tails behind you with bells tied to them via ribbons jangled behind you as you moved through the packed halls. You were excited as you got a small bit of pork as you had arrived when it had been freshly butchered. A small amount for you and the rest for your soup! So then everyone who ate what you cooked would be able to share even if they weren't as lucky as you.

You were almost home and you could maybe take a small nap before- you stop as you look down at the small hoard of nurglings just waiting in a pile outside of your door. You looked up at the many mouthed cultist with them giving you a haphazard grin at you, "I'm sorry miss they had heard about your soup..." You watch as one of them starts to lick your door, "They've been patiently waiting."

"I... I've got enough for them to share a bowl." You sigh softly but you can't help but smile at their antics... you suppose you didn't mind a late dinner. As you unlocked the door they were wonderfully well behaved as none of them rushed inside when you opened it and walked in just letting them watch you. Your own "cauldron" full of soup wasn't much larger than the portable one in your hands as you place it on your small counter. You pulled out your nicer wide rimmed bowl as it was for nurglings... "How paitently did you say they were waiting?" You ask as you grab your ladle.

"Very." The man said with a charming smile as your three tails whiped about behind you causing the bells on them to jingle as you walked over to the pot and gave them a large serving.

"Well I hope you all enjoy." You say putting the bowl down and then handed him a small cup full.

"Oh! Thank you." He says as you walk back into the room just barely hearing his mutter, "Divine Excrement... that's fucking amazing."

Moments like this you lived for... the way others eyes would light up as they would enjoy your cooking. It was always hard to refuse their request for seconds... just as you stood there as they all looked up at you holding the bowl politely asking for another bowl... "Ah ah ah fellas remember what she said. She could only spare us this amount and I'm certain she'll have more tomorrow?" He looked over at you and you nodded.

"Tomorrow I'll have a full cauldron and if you come early enough you can ask for seconds." That got the happy little creatures to cheer as you waved them off as you closed your door.

The cultist looked down at the nurgling with a large eye on its stomach as its iris was beloved grandfather's symbol... it was excited, bouncing all around as it was certain that this was it! The cultist pulled out a small device and radioed his lord, "Lord Typhus we found the witch."

You were tired as all you had left to do was enchant the soup and then you could finally enjoy your dinner. You rubbed your eye with the palm of your hand as the bells on your clothes and tails felt so heavy by this point but just a little bit longer. You thought to how you were close enough to be able to afford a proper cauldron and then you wouldn't have to limit yourself too much on how many people you could feed. Sure it would take up more of your already limited space but you knew it would be worth it! You were getting ready to enchant when you heard the door unlock... you looked worried as no one should be able to unlock your door even if they had good intentions. Your hand grabs the wood of the cleaver handle as not much of a fighter but you were going to try... why was there suddenly a buzzing noise and why was it so loud? The door opens and it gets even louder as you back yourself up into a corner as a Space Marine wedges themself into your door... and not just any Space Marine but the Herald of Nurgle himself... Typhus the Traveler... when his yellow eye lenses look right at you, you drop the clever out of fear and press against the wall.

He chuckle softly, "Well the blossoming Plague Witch that has been eluding Grandfather..." He looks around the room and right at your cauldron, "I can see why your offerings have been meager. Let me have a taste."

You swallow the lump of dread in your throat as you dare speak up, "It's not done yet.. my lord." You quickly tack on.

"Oh?" He said as he regarded you like a scared cat as you were pressed against the far wall, eyes wide with fear not daring to leave the threat in your sight, "When will it be?"

You swallow again, "Four minutes... I have to enchant it first." You hoped he would leave.

But you were not that lucky as he gestured to the cauldron, "Well do not let me keep you little witch. I might be patient but I do not possess Grandfather's long patience."

You inhale as you have to be a brave girl. You peel yourself away from the wall and stand in front of your bubbling cauldron, your back to Typhus. Your mind began to play its song as your head bobbed before your body started to sway as your bells began to jingle. The mouth on your lower back opened up as you sang with two mouths. Your movements were bouncy and at time violent as you focused on the words leaving your mouth and the way the bells rang with such pleasing chimes. You had forgotten Typhus was there watching you. You made your bounding way around your cauldron singing loudly as you were having fun, like you always did, putting your hands together as you crouched before jumping back up with a grin on your face.

Typhus watched as your hair bounced free from its ribbon holding it back. Your eyes glowing a bright green as you were lost in the ritual process as small jars of spices, herbs, and powders floated their way over to you. You took handfuls, pinches, and scoops as you added them in time with parts of the ritual where you weren't singing. The smile on your face wide as you sang louder and louder in a language unfamiliar to Typhus but that hardly mattered. Witches all had their own ways of enchanting and if a nonsense song was your way... he wouldn't question it.

You stop for a moment before violently spinning in place, your bells clamoring, as you sang in a high pitched voice... and Typhus could hear something respond in a voice that wasn't your own. You did this call and response three times. The climax of your enchantment approaches and you sing so loudly before your mouths howl in an otherworldly way. Your cauldron bubbling violently as you grab a handful of a spice blend from a pouch as you pause and chant out the last words before throwing it in. A cloud appears as it bubbles violently changing color from a dark brown to a yellow.

You deflate as you finish dancing. It was always so physically demanding to enchant your soup but it was worth it done this way... to see the happy faces of those eating your food! You turn around and yelp as you see Typhus in your doorway as you remember he was there watching you the whole time. You quickly grab your small portable cauldron and fill it, trying your best to not let any spill as you offer it to the Herald. He takes it and opens up the mouth plate and you avert your gaze as for Typhus he finally gets to taste this soup that Grandfather Nurgle has been pining after.

Typhus takes large gulps from the tiny thing you handed him... Oh! He can feel it worm its way right to his soul like some burrowing parasite! Yet it was like getting a warm embrace from a parent... or even a lover... that filled his limbs with a tingling warming happiness. Yet he could feel it also be akin to a gentle kiss from death... the sweetness of the lips leaving a mark on the skin and yet death fails to collect. He could feel his powers swell... his connection to Nurgle strengthen even! It washed over his SOUL and it was absolutely INVIGORATING and perhaps even a little ADDICTING like getting praise from Grandfather Nurgle.

"Fill it again." Typhus demands of you and of course you obey.

"Someone tend to her cauldron." You hear him bellow out as he pulls himself free of your door and you look confused. As another woman walks in and starts to tend to your soup. You put a lid on your small portable cauldron.

"Wait... what is going on." You say as you are led outside and other cultists lead you after the Herald of Nurgle. "Where am I being taken too." You ask fearfully.

Typhus decides to answer you, "To the Plague Cathedral upon the flagship, my ship. Grandfather demands a serving. And what better place to offer it to him."

You swallow as you follow him as those around you make sure you will be taken to the Cathedral.

You had only been here once before as the Cathedral on the flagship was more like a massive hive as unlike the giant fungi that grew around the church you went to... this was massive with so many insects around. You were led closer to the large ornate altar as it oozed honey as you could feel your shoes stick to the floor as well it went from floor to comb. Large insects of Nurgle skitter on the walls and ceiling as they watched and buzzed the closer you got.

"Come now little blossom." Typhus coos as you notice that the cultists with you stop at the last row of pews closest to the altar and yet Typhus gestures you to follow. The lump in your throat grows heavy as you say close to the herald as your new companions are a hoard of nurglings and the swarms that enter and leave from the large structures on his back.

"Open it up and leave it on the altar then come back right here." Typhus orders and you obey, putting it on the altar before you take the lid off and rush back to Typhus' side. You jump as the braziers suddenly blaze to life with sickly green flames.

You might not have been as connected to the warp as Typhus was but he could see a visage of his deity looking down, it was still a small offering but... it didn't matter as Nurgle finally had a taste of this soup that was eluding him just like the plague that made Ku'gath.

"Typhus! Have you tried this?" The voice said to him as you just flinched not understanding the loud voice filling the air around the alter and you wanted to hide behind the marine but you stayed.

"I have." He replies just looking up at the loud buzzing swarm that seems to gather. You try your best to not cower.

"Blessings! Blessings! How old is this soup?" The Grandfather inquired.

Typhus turned to you, "How long have you been tending to this?"

"Five years my lord."

"All of this in such a short amount of time! Blessings Typhus! Blessings! The garden will surely flourish with her delicious food!"

"Of Course Grandfather." He slammed his scythe into the comb keeping it standing as the destroyer hive buzzed loudly and you flinched.

"Blessings upon thee child! For the Grandfather has told me to bless thee! I come from the garden of plenty overflowing with milk and honey." He says just as if a sermon was being held. "And just as you will be embraced by the garden you two shall be a fountain of plenty... rejoice young witch!" The buzzing got louder and louder as the destroyer bugs all swarmed inside of him. The hand suddenly on your throat has you kicking your feet as they leave the ground as you are place on the altar and he once more removes his mouthplate. "Open up." His thumb rests on your chin and you obey... afraid of what will happen if you don't but equally scared of what will happen if you do.

As you open your mouth he opens his as you watch several destroyer bugs crawl out from his mouth as you can hear the faint noises from him as he... starts to regurgitate something. His shoulders move as his throat bobs and you are left helpless as to what is about to be placed into your mouth. You feel destroyer bugs landing on your face and on your body... antennae drumming against your skin. His mouth pushes to yours as something slowly crawls into your mouth... it's honey.

Your eyes open wide as destroyer hive honey was something that only champions of the Grandfather could have... but only in small amounts as too much would leave one into a mindless warp spawn. You eat the sweet sticky liquid as it just keeps oozing and oozing into your mouth before you... you start to convulse as Typhus pulls away running his tongue around your mouth just licking up the excess and wiping what oozed out onto his chin. Typhus enjoys the sickly sweet smell that permeates from you... or perhaps that is more of the hive's enjoyment as the smell he likes comes from between your legs but he could indulge in that later.

The sickening crack echoes as the side of your skull breaks apart as your hair solidifies into petals and a large, yet lightweight, flower has bloomed. A gift directly from the garden... Typhus lets his hands wander over your form letting his fingers press hard against your breasts and between your legs as you whimper feeling dazed and confused. Typhus decided that later was now as he bit the rough material between your legs and ground his teeth as it was shredded.

His tongue swipes up against your bared cunt as you whimper still confused as to what was going on... why your head was pounding... why there was so much buzzing in your ears... you're cunt quivers as you don't realize how the insects crawl over transformed flesh and lap up your nectar and brush against your pollen. Typhus in the meantime buzzes loudly himself as your honey is far more like nectar as well. His tongue pushing in hard and deep deep into your stigma like an insect pushing their labium deep down the style. His tongue pushed hard against the clitoris trying to get you to orgasm again... give him more nectar... Little Blossom give him more nectar!

You whine out as your nectar is swallowed up by Typhus for his hive to use... and he's not going to leave your flower wanting. He places his codpiece on the altar as Typhus grunts softly pushing the far too large cock inside of you. Your body relents as he buzzes out in enjoyment as he starts to cross pollinate you. Though if he were to go off of his allusion of earlier... this was the milk he had alluded to earlier. But his eyes were focused on the lovely flower on the side of your head... blood pooling in one of the combs on the altar as the pink petals had swirls of your hair in them... the rest was brain matter colored... bones... muscles... a beautiful human flower.

You look up at him still so very dazed but whimpering underneath the space marine as you wonder where you are... not realizing you're being fucked on the altar within the grand Cathedral. "Such a pretty little Blossom." Typhus grunts as he stills and rushes himself to completion as he will have more time to savor you later.

Typhus looks at you as he puts his codpiece on as cum oozes out of you as your flower is slowly closing up as you seem to be passing out. He picks you up and freed his scythe as it was now time to let you rest... for there was much for you to learn.

[johanarchy]

Lately I've been having a lot of fun creating some Chaos Marine OCs and I thought I might introduce them here !

So behold ! A very unlikely friend group :

The Iron Warrior is called Cassius Merle, the Death Guard is Mychos Ankou and the Emperor's Child is named Antares Fitz.

I have a whole story for how they met, but the short version is that they all got stranded on a ruined world after the end of the 13th Black Crusade and had to team up to get away.

I have informally named them The Smelly Trio because they all stink. They bicker. They share a braincell. Together they can overcome anything.

Mychos and Antares are in a romantic relationship. No one understands how it happened, least of all the two of them. Cassius is in some kind of queerplatonic partnership with both, though he would rather die than to admit that he actually likes them.

More doodles and yapping under the cut (ft me not being fully set on what their armours look like)

"I really don't care for the Gods. Like everything, they serve a purpose, but I have never needed their help blowing walls up, and I don't see why that should change."

Cassius is the youngest, he was recruited just a few decades before the Black Crusade. As most post-Heresy Chaos Marines, he isn't his Primarch's gene-son; he comes from Imperial Fist geneseed, something he feels extremely angsty about.

He's short of height and of temper, and though he tries very hard to be the hypercompetent brain of the group, he is absolutely not suited for leadership, or for functionning outside of the rigid structure of his legion. That's not his fault, he was just never really taught critical thinking. Or proper social skills.

He likes manual labor, it makes him feel useful and lets him turn his brain off, both things he desperately needs.

"You misunderstand me. I do not wish for the end of humanity. Humanity delights me, like all species of living beings do. But to think that, just because I am part of it, that I should believe it above the laws of nature ? No, this is something that I cannot accept."

Mychos is the oldest, having actually been part of one of the first waves of Death Guards from Barbarus. He used to be, and technically still is, an apothecary, but nowadays his duty is mainly to create more and more elaborate biological weapons for his fellow Plague Marines to use.

He carries himself with the unnerving friendliness and cheerfulness that only nurglites can have, and with a sort of "gentle giant" attitude that makes many people dismiss him as slow and simple minded; but do not be deceived, this is a wisened veteran who knows the world he lives in, he's just very chill about it.

He is a big nature lover, with a soft spot for fungi, which he lets grow over his exposed bones. He tends to start little gardens in every place he stays in for more than a few weeks, something he is exceptionally skilled at. He talks to all living things in his little ecosystems, plants, fungi, insects, even bacteria, and sometimes they actually answer.

"The problem with the Imperium is that it's run by losers and prudes who have never had a single minute of fun in their lives, and they expect everyone else to be as miserable as them or die. I say fuck them. Do whatever you want. If your so-called-God has a plan, you won't live long enough to see it happen anyway."

Antares is also fairly old, being of the original Emperor's Children stock, but he joined the legion at the tail end of the Great Crusade, just before the Heresy, so to him, the influence of Slaanesh has always been an integral part of it.

As such, he became the very picture of selfish hedonism; indulging his impulses and never thinking about consequences. This makes him a pretty bad soldier, as he does not respond well to authority and struggles greatly with delayed gratification. His saving grace is his skill as a fighter, especially on difficult terrain where his satyr-like mutations offer him great mobility. He had to heavily modify his armour to accomodate his legs, but his own vanity was also very much a factor in some of the choices.

Like any good slaaneshi, he loves his drugs and sex and music, but his true passion is food. He is teaching himself to cook, to varrying degrees of success, but mostly he tends to pillage the kitchens of whatever place he is helping raid at the moment. His taste is not refined, he just chases intensity in flavour.

I have more to say but it would take entirely too long to type it all up so I will stop there for now. Thank you for your time !

[skxrbrand]

Im sure this is supposed to be ironic