#areshkar

[dead-philosophy]

HERALDING THE END

Show me how the gods kill.

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[idle-skull]

First round of art requests!!

Characters belong to, In this order:

Darius ( @chapter-master-darius )

Deimos ( @redsasexualdisaster )

Aldus ( @finley-crow-crafts )

Areshkar ( @dead-philosophy )

[axiseart]

For the captivatingly phantasmagorical @dead-philosophy (Go check him out, and feed the cryptid), of his OC Areshkar getting up to both adorable and bastardly hijinks with his version of Angron.

[dead-philosophy]

Angron and Areshkar after battle.

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[dead-philosophy]

real image of me and my followers (the little guys are Angron and Areshkar)

It's us

[dead-philosophy-art]

General Areshkar Ulver Sarkal, 76th Lacus Hellwalkers

Original post with lore can be found here on my main blog.

[dead-philosophy]

ARESHKAR ULVER SARKAL - M42 VERSION

Just a quick ref sheet for this miserable bastard and his emotional support sword. I've had this rather ambitious idea in my head lately that I'm going to finally write a fic about this sad wet creature and his misadventures after the Heresy, but we'll see if I can scrape together the brain cells to do that.

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[dead-philosophy]

Inspired by this post.

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[dead-philosophy]

ARESHKAR - WARGEAR REF SHEET

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[dead-philosophy]

I'd say Areshkar is at least mostly weird and slightly pathetic.

Every character needs to be at least a little pathetic and a little weird. And if they're not pathetic at all then they need to be super weird

[dead-philosophy]

Been busy with things, so have this concept sketch of Areshkar as he appears in the M42 AU I'm in. At that point in the timeline, he is a champion of Khorne leading a ragtag warband consisting of what remains of the Hellwalkers, beastmen, and a few wayward World Eaters. He is most famous for Doomguy-ing his way through Khorne's realm with his warband and breaking Angron out of gay daemon baby banishment jail.

He is extremely tired, weary, and worried that Angron might not remember who he is. He never got a chance to tell him that he loved him either.

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[dead-philosophy]

Of Yore - part I

Gentle wind stirred the field of golden wheat, golden beneath a cold, grey, alien sky. The beginnings of a storm.

“What will you do?”

He called out to the warrior in bronze just across the way from him. Dried viscera still clung to his armor in places, though he had tried to wash it away. The nipping teeth of the wind raked undulating patterns through the grizzled grey-brown fur of his cloak, mirroring those that danced across the wheat. Crimson pteruges clinked softly against his cuirass. He turned his gaze to the smaller man, a deadness in his eyes. The left one always twitched.

“I don’t know.”

The gladiator made the man feel so small, standing near him. A little rat in the shadow of a hound. He did not mind that. Unspoken mutual respect existed between them. The little rat savored the low rumble of the hound’s voice above the ambient whisper of the wind. He smelled petrichor. His chest felt full of sharp things, bits of glass and needles and his own shattered bones, anxieties that made their home there. Things he could not say lived behind his eyes like worms. How could he say them? He would ask something instead.

“Do you still want to die?”

The troubled warrior’s amber eyes washed over him like the heat of a campfire when one stood too close. He savored that too, it was all he could get.

“I…”

The hound fell silent. His eye twitched. The rat stared up at him, the wind tousling his dark hair, his many yearnings thrashing in his gut like lampreys. Maybe something unspoken passed between them, but maybe he was just hoping it did.

“If you die, I want to die with you.”

Areshkar awoke with a start, his thin shirt clinging to his sweat-slicked torso. His hands gripped the hem of his moth-eaten blanket, his knuckles starkly white even against his sun-starved, pallid flesh.

Had it been a dream this time, or a memory?

There was no way to know anymore. Things had grown so fuzzy, it terrified him. Memories were all he had left. He drew a shaky breath, pulling aside the blanket and cautiously crawling out of bed. His bare feet padded softly against the cold floor, his eyes burning. Tears grew at the corners of his eyes and he spitefully rubbed them away with the back of his hand as he made his way over to the corner of the room. It was the only part of his quarters that had any semblance of order, as the rest was covered in a haphazard array of his belongings -- a rat’s nest. Open books and sheafs of parchment littered the floor, and an assortment of bladed weapons sat atop any available piece of furniture, some with cleaning supplies lying beside them. Clothes, whether they were clean or not he could not recall, lay draped over the backs of chairs or crumpled in piles on the floor. Some of them no longer fit his Warp-altered frame, but he did not have it in him to work out just which ones. Moths fluttered around the room, gathering around the multitude of flickering candles atop the creaky wooden dresser, thick ropes of melted wax affixing them to its surface. He approached the table in the far corner, its surface draped with a worn crimson battle standard emblazoned with an open maw. Fragments of bronze-finished armor laid there, beside a tarnished plasma pistol much too large for Areshkar’s own hands. A stasis vial sat surrounded by a series of tiny figurines carved from bone; several pointy-eared hounds in various poses, and a miniscule bust immortalizing a face lost to time. A face that lived forever in Areshkar’s head.

Areshkar did not reach for any of these things, instead reaching for a scrap of grizzled grey-brown fur just large enough to drape over his shoulders, moth-eaten and marked by scorch-holes. He picked it up, stroking it reverently for a moment. His gaze settled on something else, a faded pict-print with a dark stain in one corner. A picture of him.

The Rat King clutched the scrap of fur to his chest, breaking into haunting, mournful sobs; anguished cries of loss and longing that echoed through the bowels of the Lacustrine.

[dead-philosophy]

ARESHKAR - WARGEAR REF SHEET

image text below the cut

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General Areshkar Ulver Sarkal - 76th Lacus Hellwalkers

DETAILS

Age: 37 Terran years (as of 004.M31)

Height: 5'6"

Weight: 141 lbs

Homeworld: Lacus Magna

Faction: Imperial Army

+ 76th Lacus Hellwalkers

+ + heavy infantry

+++ attached to XII Legiones Astartes World Eaters

++++ serves directly under Angron

WARGEAR

I. Surma combat blade - live tooth harvested from Lacusan Behemoth

II. 911.M1-pattern heavy stubber pistol, Martyr officer's edition, 45 caliber

III. Lacusan archaeotech power sword Vae Victis - chained to right arm in combat

IV. Headtaker-pattern heavy stubber carbine, 45 caliber

V. master-crafted power glaive, Otsego

ARMOR/PHYSICAL DETAILS

- Sealed helmet w/ rebreather: All terrestrial environments, limited underwater/void usage. Includes HUD and targeting system. Bio-engineered bone construction

- Control interface (right vambrace)

- Bladecatcher pelt

- Blood Hand battle honor: given by Angron (chestplate)

- Near-Abhuman, possesses increased durability, strength, endurance, cold resistance, and night vision; eyes are reflective (tapetum lucidum)

[dead-philosophy]

Areshkar in M42 - WIP

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[dead-philosophy]

Gave this meme a shot because why the hell not.