#deamon primarch

[niqhtlord01]

The Great Git Hunt Part 1: The Death of a Legend

During the turning of the 42nd millennia the universe was to see many upheavals of a galactic nature.

 The 13th Black Crusade finally shattered Cadia and opened the great rift, sundering the universe in two and unleashing innumerable demonic incursions into real space. Tyranid Hive Fleets began appearing more frequently along the entire eastern fringe devouring innumerable worlds and forcing the Imperium to fight tooth and nail for every world to slow the tide of chitin.The Tau launched the Fifth Sphere Expansion while the Imperium’s attention elsewhere and sought to steal several dozen worlds from Imperial control and integrate their populations in the name of the greater good.

Yet the most perplexing, if not confounding, event was to pit two of the greatest warhosts against each other all over the death of one elderly man.

That man was Commissar Sebastian Yarrick.

Dying at the age of roughly 153, the energetic Commissar Yarrick made a name for himself by leading the Imperial resistance against Ork Warlord Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka on the world of Armageddon. Taking for himself the severed arm of an ork warchief he slew in combat to replace the arm he lost, Yarrick would become a nay mythical figure amongst Ork culture and the primary rival of Ghazghkull himself. It was said that the warboss only ever cursed Yarrick; an honor amongst orks for sure. Their rivalry would span nearly a century as the two would fight again during the third war for Armageddon and then far afterwards as Yarrick chased the warboss half way across the universe seeking to end the green threat once and for all.

Many would be safe to assume that with a rivalry so deep between two titans of their peoples that their stories would end with a climatic clash of arms where one would lay dead at the others feet. Yet fate sought to intervene in the cruelest of manners.

While pursuing his eternal foe with a fleet of Black Templar space marines, Imperial Guard, and several warships of the Imperial Navy; Commissar Yarrick was set upon by the newly reformed World Eaters chaos space marines legion led by their demonic primarch Angron.

With the opening of the great rift Angron emerged from the Eye of Terror at the head of the largest force of Khorne worshipers the universe had seen since the Horus Heresy. Angron was not content to follow Abaddon and his mongrels, so set out on his own to leave a path of devastation and slaughter spanning several sectors. Each world his followers set foot upon they would leave in fire with nothing but the hollow skulls of its former inhabitants piled in mile high mounds to watch over them. It was in fact the most recent slaughter on the planet Mori that reverberated throughout the warp so strongly it incapacitated the navigators of Yarrick’s fleet and pulled them out of the warp.

Angron was surprised at the sudden appearance of an Imperial war fleet, but welcomed the new challengers with great relish. The Khorne warships descended upon the imperial fleet like carrion fiends and began pulling it apart piece by piece. The navy fought back with great ferocity but the troop transports were left to fend for themselves as hordes of boarding craft were launched at them, each packed with world eater space marines churning for the coming bloodbath.

With their escape routes blocked and the transport ships in danger, Yarrick ordered the ground forces to land on Mori. It was only on the surface of the planet could the imperial force bring to bear their full might. The landing was hounded the entire way by the ever pressing chaos war fleet with many ships never making the journey, but by the grace of the emperor several made it to the surface and disembarked their forces.

Never one to back down from a massacre, Angron landed on the planet once more and led his legion against the now dug-in imperial forces. Under the leadership of Yarrick, the guard and space marine forces held the unending horde back for seven days and seven nights. Yet by the dawn of the 8th day only Yarrick and a handful of guardsman remained. Angron himself took to the field for the final slaughter and slew the guardsman with ease until only Yarrick stood against him.

Power claw met demonic axe as the elderly commissar matched blow for blow. So assured of his victory, the inability to shatter the crude ork weapon infuriated Angron and his rage furthered him to unleash a flurry of blows. One snuck past Yarrick’s guard and violently severed the commissar’s right arm at the shoulder.

As the arm and power claw fell to the ground Yarrick staggered backwards. His remaining hand tightened around his bolt pistol as blood began flowing from the wound. He looked up and saw the demon primarch looking down at him; mangled and jagged teeth grinning as Angron looked down at him. No doubt the monster expected him to beg for his life, but Yarrick would not.

Spitting out a glob of blood at the traitor, Yarrick brought up his bolt pistol and roared “FOR THE EMPEROR!” one final time and pulled the trigger. A single bolt left the weapon before Angron swung his axe and decapitated the commissar. The bolt struck home against one of the skulls hanging from the primarch’s neck and shattered it; a prized treasure as it had belonged to one of his close comrades back when the primarch had been mortal and a slave in the fighting pits of his homeworld. The primarch took up the severed head of Yarrick and put it in its place around his neck; a sign of honor for a great warrior while the rest of the skulls of the dead imperials were collected and offered to Khorne.

News of this massacre did not reach the wider galaxy for several months until a passing merchant ship picked up the distress signals of the imperial navy that still echoed in the warp. They soon found the lifeless husks of imperial ships floating above the planet of Mori and when they descended to the surface found the remains of the imperial’s last stand as well as a lone ork power claw still stained with demonic blood.

When the merchant ship reported their findings to nearby Imperial authorities an investigation force was dispatched by inquisitorial agents which further discovered the truth of the situation and the death of Yarrick.

Initially, there was hesitance with releasing the information regarding Yarrick. In a time of such chaos, the death of such a notable figure if reported to the wider imperium could trigger further outbreaks of panic. In a rare show of defiance however, the Astra Militarum insisted that it be made public and a large scale military funeral be held and broadcasted imperium wide to turn Yarrick into a martyr and potentially Imperial Saint stating that he chose to die fighting the forces of chaos then be cowed into submission.

Had the Astra Militarum made such demands a few generations earlier the Inquisition would have purged their ranks for such brazen defiance; but since the great rift’s opening they found their position had weakened and they needed the legions of Imperial Guard standing with them than against them. So, the Inquisition relented and the military funeral was held on Yarrick’s homeworld. Despite the great dangers of warp travel, several high lords of Terra made the journey to pay their respects as well as countless Imperial Guard regiments, space marine contingents, mechanicus forces, and even a rare Imperial Class Titan joined the funeral procession.

It was during this period of mourning as news of Yarrick’s death was spread throughout the imperium that it also trickled into the hands of the Imperium’s enemies as well.

Ork freebooters hijacking Imperial ships learned of the news while having fun with their human prisoners. There wasn’t an ork alive that didn’t know of the legend of “Old Bale Eye” and the impressive ork body count he had amassed over the century of fighting. News of his death spread even faster amongst orks than it had with imperials until finally words reached the green prophet himself, Ghazghkull Mag Uruk Thraka.

At first, Ghazghkull refused to believe that anyone but him could have done in his oldest rival. He had fought Yarrick too long and knew that the wily hummie wouldn’t go down so easily. But when a squad of his handpicked Kommandos came back from Mori and presented him with Yarrick’s severed power claw, the green prophet flew into a rage.

The roar let out was so powerful that it reverberated in the warp, silencing nearby warp storms and sending countless ships of all affiliations from the astral tides of the warp back into real space. Not since the war of the beast was an ork roar heard so strongly in the warp from so far away that even the navigators on holy terra itself could hear the anger of Ghazghkull.

From that moment on the greatest warboss of orks the universe had ever seen had a new mission. He would take every ship in his fleet, every gargant and war machine his boy’z made, and every ork boi in his waaagh and he would not stop until he had the head of the one who done in Old Bale Eye and mounted it to the front of his flagship.

The Great Git Hunt, had begun.  

[leftsharkhypocrite]

[wolframtheregulator]

So… I’ve started work on my next deamon prince before I finished my last, that’s bad I know, but inspiration was flowing and I am a slave to my artistic drive.

Here’s the start of the Fortunate Ones deamon prince. I don’t want to attach his torso until his arms arrive in the mail, but I think you can see where this is going. From here I’m gonna include a lot of sculpting to bulk out his legs and add more armor to them. The goal by the end of this is a luperci deamon prince with a plasma pistol and power claw in terminator armor. The majority of the model is going to be sourced from Radukar the Beast, an obliterator, and deamon primarch mortarian.

Below is a really rough digital mock-up I made to give you an idea of what I’m aiming for with this kitbash.

[askrobouteguilliman40k]

I have seen people post about what a fight between Angron and Guilliman would be like, they all think it will be a one sided fight.

I actually think it be more complex, Angron sees the sword of the Emperor, knows it can permanently kill him, but has to fight his own deamonic blood lust to give Roboute a chance to stab him, so it be a sort of three way fight, Angron vs himself vs Guilliman.

And when a beaten and bloody Guilliman lands that final blow, Angron will smile and know peace at last, no more nails, no more Khorn, just the silence of oblivion.

Oh course, the ripples of such an even will be catastrophic, World Eaters be even more berserk trying to avenge their gene father, the other Deamon Primarchs will be doubting their own immortality, Khorn himself will be enraged loosing his best champion.

...

Not that Games Workshop would ever do this, but an interesting though no?

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

My Sunshine

Author's notes: Alpharius in Living Water AU. T hank you to @egrets-not-regrets for letting me borrow Mara the Harpy Elder. :)

Past =-= Next

Warnings: None that I can think of. Let me know if you need me to add anything.

Summary: Zariel and his brothers enjoy time with their and pestering the Scout-lings. One in particular is their favorite to harass.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k, @ms--lobotomy @bispecsual @thevoidscreams

Tagged continued: @i-am-a-dragon34, @gra93fruit-blog

Zariel decides to uncurl from around his lovely Lana as he goes stalking after Claude. Of all the Scout-lings, when he or the others in his squad stalk after him. The little Raven spots them first and has the most displeased scowl on his face and zoom off to find his battle buddy to have help getting the mean old Alpha legionary to back off.

“Why don't you spar with me yourself, Claude?” Zariel asks, pitching his voice in a taunting tone.

“I don't want you to touch me,” Claude retorts.

“We don't have cooties or a touch born Plague for you to worry about,” Zariel says half amused.

“I don't want you to steal my face,” Claude says, still scowling at him and moving swiftly through the water 

“Now that's silly,” Zariel says amused,”Why do you think I need to touch you in order to do that?”

Claude scowls at him again, “I want as little to do with you and your squad as possible. Leave me alone.”

“I’ll back off for now,” Zariel says raising his hands, a smirk on his stupid teal scaled face as the older Space Marine swims off.

Claude doesn’t relax until after Zariel has fully swum into the air and started to flirt with Lana again. Good that will distract the First Born Marine for hours and he can finish helping the Gannet Harpies with their chores, easily lifting heavy weights and carefully, delicately setting them down where they asked him to put them.

Mara calls him over after a few more hours of work, noticing how twitchy and upset he’s been getting lately, “What’s the matter Claude?”

She isn’t the only to notice that Claude seems to be particularly upset by the Alpha Legionaries and how those same older mers tend to harass the poor fledgling. He takes in a couple of deep breaths as he tries to figure out what to say.

“The… Zariel and his squad keep bugging me,” Claude says as he rubs his face, “I… think for my own peace of mind, I’m going to have to tap out of helping you all for a while… until they decide they are bored with me.”

“If you think that’s best,” Mara says, peering up at him. “I could talk to Lana to see if she can get them to back off?”

“That will only partially work,” Claude says, “but I’d appreciate it if you would. I’ve fold them before that I don’t want to have anything to do with them, but they b-... they won’t listen much. They back off, only to try again later.”

He knows from his fellow Primaris Marines, those who also were cursed with teal in their scales, unless they focused to become different. That physical touch, even if both of them are in armor, a mental link is formed between both. Telepathic communication and other benefits and drawbacks can arise with such a thing.

Claude knows that Zariel is the highest ranking, and strongest personality of the squad of Alpha legion Space Marines in this squad. He knows that Zariel will realize as soon as he touches Claude, or one of his squad does, what Claude has.

The trainers warnings ring in his ears, of what the Chaos or Renegade First Born Alpha legion troopers would do, could do, to them if it’s ever found out that the Mechanicum, in all their infinite wisdom decided to mix Holy, Loyal, Primarch Geneseed, with despicable, Treacherous and Deamon Primarch gene-seed. Not that most knew what it was they had. 

The voices giggle and cackle in his ear, crooning that change is inevitable, and unless he wants to avoid the Gannet Harpies until Lana either decides she’s sick of the Alpha Legion First Born, or she dies and that same squad leaves for another potential bond that something must give. 

He’s glad that at least Cedric knows and still cares for him. Even the unsightly parts that have him wishing he was something, someone else. Cedric has said that he should talk to the others, and should show them that Jophiel of all of them would understand as he has similar self image and body issues. 

But he… can’t. The fear of Rejection, the way that they reacted to the First Born Alpha Legion Troopers had… been eye opening. He’s been… hiding what he truly is for decades. They are likely to react, understandably, poorly for this deception of his. 

He snaps out of his spiral as he hears Lana’s voice, as she’s firmly talking to Zariel and focuses on her words as she continues to speak, a stern look on her face. Mara beside her, the elder Harpy also looks disappointed in the first born Alpha legion space marine.

“-ow many times do I need to tell you this?” Lana continues, “Claude doesn’t want  to interact with you! He’s stated it in multiple different ways and methods. If he decides to change his mind, then he will approach on in his own time. Leave. Him. Be.”

“But Lana,” Zariel whines at her, his teal eyes wide and pleading, “I just want to get to know the little brother, I mean cousin better.”

“Brother?” Mara says with a light trill cocking her head to the side as she says that.

“All younger space marines are either brother’s or cousins,” Zariel says by way of explanation with a shrug and a gesture with one of his tentacles. “I don’t know why I said brother, when he’s a little cousin from the Raven Guard.”

“Must of been a slip of the tongue, then,” Mara muses.

Meanwhile, Claude just barely able to contain himself as he almost felt like both of his hearts were about to burst from his chest after they stopped for a moment or two when Zariel had referred to him accidentally as a little brother, not cousin.

From what Zariel continues to say, he hadn’t… he and the other First Born Alpha Legion Space Marines don’t know what he is. At least not consciously. Fuck. He needs to get away from rock and stay away for a while. Likely months, if not years, if he can speak with Cedric and see what they can do to coordinate things so that when he does visit the Rock, that they aren’t nearby.

“I… have to go,” Claude tells one of the other Gannet Harpy cousins.

“Are you sure?” Leo says, frowning up at him, “You look like you just saw an Orca.”

“Ah- no, I could fight and win against that,” Claude says confidently, “It’s just…”

“The Alpha Legion Space marines are bothering you again?” Leto finishes, they had landed nearby, having heard the pair of them talking. “You know, running from them won’t help in the long run, no matter how tempting it is.”

“... I just don’t want to confront them right now,” Claude says, “And it’s up to five on one, and they are… older and can be very dangerous if provoked. Besides, they have a bond with Lana. They can be very territorial.”

[sleepyfan-blog]

Phantom

Author’s Note: Sirass part three! I hope you enjoy :D

First.

Previous.

Next

Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel@whorety-k 

Warnings: none

Summary: Sirass and Pollux go to the afflicted reef to scout how many fellow Astartes they’ll need to destroy the burgeoning garden of rot. What they find surprises them.

“We’re going to have to burn all of the samples the humans took of the diseased wildlife and plants.” Pollux muttered, swimming back and forth in agitation as he waited impatiently for Sirass to finish gearing up.

“I know that, you’ve left instructions and warning for the blue stylus pushers to handle that, right?” Sirass snapped, rolling his eyes beneath his helmet as he continued to check over his gear, wanting to be sure that none of it had any flaws before they went diving into a territory defiled by Nurgle’s Worshippers. “We’ll need to check the machinery as well.”

“... But the Plague-bastard’s curses and afflictions only affect the living. Metals rust and decay but don’t fall sick.” The Imperial Fist spluttered, eyes going wide under his helmet.

“Clearly you’ve never had the dubious misfortune of having to deal with Glitchlings.” Sirass huffed, shaking his head a little “... When were you brought from?”

“Mid M-32, why?” Pollux asked “What the fuck is a Glitchling?”

“My bastard Primarch decided to cut a deal with the Plaguefather for… I’m not sure why… Some time in the past as I know it, after you were brought here. The ritual he used to seal the deal fused Machine Plague and Warp Bullshith together to create Glitchlings. They’re Nurglings, but for machines instead of living creatures. They delight in the corruption of machines and twisting them into horrific monstrosities.” Sirass explained “I heard about it from some of my Chaos brothers in passing and the knowledge stuck with me.”

“Oh fuck that entirely. They aren’t going to be thrilled about having to purge the data.” Pollux sighed. “And don’t call the Ultramarines stylus pushers. They do far more than that and you know it. They’ll likely handle the data as well, and explaining why fire and destruction is the only safe path forward.”

“... True enough.” Sirass sighed, reassured that his gear was in perfect working order. “I’m ready to go.”

“Finally! Remember, this is a scouting mission, as neither of us can deal with a full Rot Garden, we don’t have the kit to do so. There are Salamanders inbound, but it’s going to-” Pollux stated.

“It’s going to take them a few days to get here. Yeah, I know. This isn’t the first shit-awful mission I’ve been on, and I doubt it’ll be the last.” Sirass finished, cutting off the Imperial Fist. “We need to have a rough estimate of how many Death Guard are making this fucking thing, and whether or not they’ve managed to corrupt any humans into worshipping their shit-ass deamon-god. I remember the briefing protocols for something like this, I don’t need to be reminded. Let’s get going.”

Pollux grumbled under his breath, and Sirass pretended not to hear the bitchy bastard as they swum swiftly over the deceptively beautiful waters, diving in.

~

“... Wasn’t the garden bigger, the last time we were here?” Pollux asked Sirass over vox, sounding as perplexed as Sirass felt.

“It was. I helped with the last survey of the afflicted reef two days ago. Something’s changed… I could almost taste the Chaos in the water, but that’s faded somewhat too…” Sirass murmured, scanning the area more closely. “The densest bit of fuckery is this way. I haven’t seen any signs of Death Guard here today, what about on your side, Pollux?”

“No signs of Death Guard on this side of the Garden, either. Maybe they’re deeper in, or off on a hunt?” Pollux offered. “I… Suppose we should push further into the territory.” It went without saying that they should touch nothing in this cursed place unless they absolutely had to.

The signs of decay and illness were still very much present in the plant and animal life, but it wasn’t nearly as dire as it had been a couple of days ago. Some of the fish were actually moving at close to their normal speeds, doing their usual behaviors. The numbers of parasites in the waters had gone down according to Sirass’ scanners, and the amount of chaos taint had plummeted precipitously, now that he knew to look for it, knew what the signs were.

This was true even as the two mer cautiously swum deeper into the garden. Signs of healthy life were beginning to appear, and the dead were no longer crawling or moving in a parody of life. Sirass stilled completely as he reached the middle of the garden, eyes widening beneath his visor “What… Who?... Why?”

Before him was the crawling vine-rose things that marked the heart of a plague garden. It’s tendrils should be glowing and pulsing, trying to reach for anything that wasn’t tainted by Nurgle in order to consume. The center mass of the foul creation should be undulating and hard to look at without nausea and pain ripping through his body and mind.

Instead, the thorn-covered vines were a dull grey color. Lifeless and unmoving. The center mass looked like it had been ripped or slashed apart by something large and pissed off. Clearly someone else had killed the heart of the this Rot Garden, which was what helped to perpetuate Nurgle’s curses and diseases. They hadn’t completed the job, and if left unattended, the Plague Heart would come back to life and start causing problems if it wasn’t thoroughly torched in Promethium-based flames and torn out, roots and all.

But it was an excellent start. 

“I have no idea who did this… I didn’t think there were many Astartes in this area, apart from the group who lives with the humans nearby. None of them reported in, attacking this and they really should have…” Pollux muttered to himself. “We should retreat from here. It may be dead for now, but it’s still dangerous… And the Death Guard could come back. They’ll get nasty as they’ll assume we did this.”

“Mh, let’s get going then.” Sirass agreed, nodding shortly. Agreeing with an Iron Fist felt very strange and vaguely wrong… But Pollux was correct in this instance. The two of them took turns flitting from cover to cover around the periphery of the slowly shrinking Garden of Rot for the four days it took for the Salamander Flamer squads to arrive. Not a single Death Guard, nor any cultists appeared in that time.

Once the Salamanders had arrived and began the task of purifying the area with flames and psykery, Sirass and Pollux left after being checked and cleared for corrosion. The Ultramarines attached to the humans’ ocean preservation group had indeed purged all of the Nurgle Shit from the area, including information and explained why.

Sirass’ human sprinted over to him as soon as he cleared the ocean water. You hesitated for a couple of moments asking “You’ve been through decontamination, right?”

“Yes, my love I have been. The area is being purged by experts.” He explains with a nod.

“Good… It’s going to be a lot of work to restore that area, but it’ll be worth it. I’m glad that… That you’re okay. The… The stories they told us about what those twisting-illnesses can do to a person were awful!” You shudder, running up to him and hugging him tightly.

Sirass smiles a little, holding you close. He nuzzles you lovingly as he takes off his helmet, attaching it to his belt and giving you several loving kisses all over your face “I apologize that you were frightened for and worried over me, love. But I am fine. If you’d like to thoroughly check me over once we get home, I won’t object~”

You blush at his tease but nod, going up on your tiptoes and giving him a loving kiss “Yes please.”

He grins as he scoops you up, swimming through the air towards your apartment.

[wujczak]

Mortarion, Deamon Primarch of Death Guard. Rebuild of my earlier paintjob, smashed in furniture malfunction.

[profilozof]

Can we have more headcannons of your one AU with Ruby and Isha?

Sure, so:

1. The whole au takes place over 7 years in the garden, or 7 miliseconds before Mortarion briefly kills mister Robust Govenor and Big E sets Nurgle's garden on fire.

2. Isha entering materium and Ruby being her saviour quite literaly echos across the galaxy, as in roses became a great way to stay off the plague, some Eldar who are actually good people being freed from Slaneash (we will talk about it later), Harlequins sliping during their performances, the harmful mutations going down significantly, Ynnead becoming more active/aware/born, the shards of the shards of Eldar Pantheon becoming recoverable, Big E nose no longer iching, etc.

also they exit on the battlefield that Guliman and Mortarion were dueling... With an crusade worth of people including...

3. Leman Russ, who is also first L in RILL(lilly) who also was stuck fight on the doorstep of Nurgles mansion, not captured but also not being able to move forward. He also can turn into giant wolf deamon form, kinda like Corvus. He basicly carries the team when Ruby is spent.

4. Our divine and semi divine trio picks up the [REDACTED] before the full team frees basicly every single person that was stucked in Nurgle's garden i.e. a 2 craftworlds worth of eldar who wanted to free mom, the space wolves who followed Leman, a lot of unfortunate people who got droped there during the warpstorms including the regiment from the Rebelion of the Men of Iron and Zwei.

5. I decided to make Isha fight Nurgle during the final battle at the gates of the garden, because while Ruby is busy melting said gate with her silver eyes, Leman and [REDACTED] are busy fighting off 6 of Nurgles Exalted Greater Deamons and comabined force of man and eldar are desprertly to slow down 66% OF ALL NURGLE DEAMONS, Isha is showing that she is the Veteran of the War in Heaven and firstborn daughter of Khaine. Imagine said fight as pro Souls-like player fighting the final boss, naked, with first level character. All of that buys Ruby enough time to break the gate and free everyone

6. AND THEN SLANNEASH apears and tries to eat exhausted Isha to which Ruby responded by setting her whole being body and soul on fire and light up like a silver astronomican for a briefest of moments causing She who thirst to hasitate, thus making sure that Isha will have time to flee. Isha decided to not abandon Ruby and decided to risk her whole existence to save her daughter saviour and Slanneash looked her in the eyes and flinched (and with that lost her claim on those eldar who were similar to Ruby i.e. exodites, craftworlders who weren't dicks).

7. Isha healed Ruby via adopting her, as in Ruby becomes the same being that OG Eldaneash and Ulthanesh were (in this au, semi divine twins of Isha and Kuranos). So basicly Eldari primarch except love by their divine parent and geared for the WiH and not Great Crusade. Ruby is not a full fleadged diety (yet), but she is an ironicly asocieted with mental health to Isha's physical health. Among other things.

[askthelordofiron]

For someone that hates the gods and to quote "calls them cringe", why did you let them turn you into a deamon Primarch?

“Cuz Fulgrims a bitch. They caused a leak in my soul and I was forced to be this to survive.”

[roughtimeminicomics]

Say hello to Roughous Artillieus. My very own Warhammer 40K OC!! And yes, he's a Primarch.

He is the Primarch of the Rougher Days legion and their successors. He is a master at melee combat but loves to use Bolters as well, commonly using them in pairs because as he says, "He loves the aesthetic." But like many, if not all, in the 40K universe, he is shrouded with misery and above all... Chaos. But maybe not in the way that one would think.

You see, disregarding any reasonable lore (as I like to do), before the Horus Heresy, Roughous actually had an encounter with Slaneesh AND Nurgle. Both of which tried to convince him to turn himself over to Chaos, to which both he refused. But since he had such a DIRECT encounter with them, he was targeted by powerful deamons left and right. One such encounter was with a higher deamon that inflicted him with a virus made by Nurgle with Slaneesh's help. Literal Chaos began to flow from his eyes, and his Marines began to worry that they may have to put done their beloved Primarch. But Roughous wasn't going down easy. He slayed the deamon and returned home, a bolter always pointed at his head just in case. He built a mask that helped him recovcer from the virus, permanently forging it into his face.

Now the mark of the Chaos Virus marks his face, the tears that fell last marking his skin, and his eyes blacked with a pure neon green glow. And he begins to think about the Crusade, the War, and eventually, the Horus Heresy... and wondered...

Was Humanity just as horrible a force of Chaos as were the Chaos Lords?

[silvernome]

Finally able to share my finished Mortarion! Waited until Armies on Parade to reveal him. More photos at the Brookhammer site - http://www.brookhammer.com/2017/11/showcase-mortarion/

[incorrect-primarchs-quotes]

Kharn: You know what I’ve always wondered? How do tall people like you actually sleep at night when the blanket can’t possibly cover you from your shoulders to your toes, especially now that you are a deamon prince?

Angron: Kharn it’s 4am.

Kharn: Can’t sleep, huh?

Kharn: ...is it because of the blanket?

[haaaaaaaaaaaave-you-met-ted]

Deamon Primarch Angron by TazMar

[relax-and-read-on]

Damn... We need the Thesis about Whore Shaped Little Pray Pray

You asked for this. I would be less horny on main if yall didn't come in my ask box to enable me.

Ok so! Aheum:

Lorgar is probably one of the most desired (sexually) person in the galaxy, and the mf don't even know it

First let's focus pre heresy. Lorgar is hot. Unbelievably hot. All primarch are fucking sex on leg, but Lorgar.... He get out of armor often. He has a smaller, less intimidating body. He has big expressive eyes. A full mouth to suck cock preach his words. When he listen to you, you feel like you are the only person in the world. He has long, beautiful hands, made for writing. His tattoo glitter in GOLD. His skin smell of warm sand. He has diples (yes this is hc, no idc). His hips are perfect handles, made to be gripped. He has a charisma almost as high as Horus. He's full of kindness, gentleness, and devotions

And he is 1000% innocent and a virgin.

You can hit on him. Flirt. Literally show up half naked. Make the most outrageous comment. And he. Will. Not. Get it. He literally doesn't see sex all around him, he's almost as innocent as a child. And that only make his sexier.

Everyone, and I mean EVERYONE, has the fantasy of Lorgar on his knees, his pretty eyes open wide, as he's staring at his first hard dick. Of his blushing as he get hard. Of him being so fucking PRETTY and RESPONSIVE in bed. The details vary depending on who is daydreaming of all those salacious act, but it stay the core same: being the First to get to ruin such a sweet, pretty, innocent boy.

But now you are asking: what about after the heresy??

Well!! Now, Lorgar is at least a BIT more aware that Sex Is A Thing. Kinda hard to avoid when there are deamonettes running around and boinking your sons for sports. But still... He has somehow managed to land in the warp, as a deamon primarch... And still a virgin. It's a point of pride at this point. And it's driving every single damn slaanesh follower INSANE with wants. He's not even an incel asshole in a iron armor the size of a hummer, he's just walking around in simple robes, chest half naked, and he KNOW everyone is shaking with desire, and he just ignore it.

He's the biggest cock tease in the galaxy.

[askrobouteguilliman40k]

Look, I love Roboute, but really? He has not won a single fight against another Primarch with out outside interference.

Sure he can body marines, deamon princes and even greater Deamons.... But against his brothers? Nope.

For that you want the Lion, he cut off Angrons head with the Emperor's shield after an epic battle!

[sleepyfan-blog]

Author’s Note: this is the second part of mer-Joth’s fic!

Previous.

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Tagged: @egrets-not-regrets @kit-williams @bleedingichorhearts @the-pure-angel

Warnings: magical ritual, imprisonment, ask me to tag something if it bothers you

Summary: Joth wakes up post deamon-stabbing. Things go… Strangely from there.

Joth woke up to the sound of smug sorcerer chanting, and the worst headache he's had in over three hundred years. The Thousand Son who made off with Joth's own rightful sacrifice has tied him upside down to some sort of stone. Fucker left his mouth unbound, so the irritated World Eater planned on making it the damned blue badtard's problem. “HEY FUCKER! LET ME OUT OF THIS AND GIVE ME BACK MY SACRIFICE!” He also starTed to struggle against the chains binding him in place, hoping that either the links in the chain or the stone to which he'd been pinned to would give way, thrashing as much as his bindings would allow him to.

“Hmm… No. I had been stalking after that rare specimen for months in preparation for this Ritual. Then you showed up at the last moment and messily ripped it apart. Luckily for me, you kept intact the organs and bones I required for this. I and dozens of my brothers are collaborating together on this Great Work, and should we succeed, it will allow those of us who are blessed by Chaos to work with the Warp much more similarly like it is back home, rather than the ash-fired clay effort it takes to do anything more than minor tricks here and now.” The Thousand son sniffed, glaring naughtily down at Joth for a couple of moments before returning to his chanting.

The World Eater thought about that for several seconds - the greater blessings of Khorne he had earned couldn't be used in this time, on Ancient Terra for reasons Joth could only begin to guess at. The ability to go on sustained Rampages… To ensure the Blood Flowing and the collected Skulls given to the Throne…

It was almost enough to get him to purr and settle into his bonds. “... and if I promise not to interfere with your… Ritual? Will you let me free then?” He could respect another's irritation at a kill being stolen from him. Stuffy blue fuck could have led with that hours ago and saved them both the trouble. But no, stubborn bastard sorcerers refused to communicate in more than smug smirks and annoying as fuck riddles a good ninety percent of the time, trying to prove that they were so much smarter than everyone else.

At least his Primarch survived the Heresy, and had led them to greater powers, as well as the endless glory of fighting for Khorne. Away from the false light and moneyed lies of the corpse-Emperor and his throne of lies and two-faced duplicity.

The thousand son continued to chant for several minutes, the brilliant blue glow of Warpcraft steadily shining through the other's eyes, mouth and hands as he continued the task he had set himself. Fucker didn't even look in his direction in order to acknowledge that Joth had spoken.

One of his oldest and most familiar companions - Wrath - charged to the forefront of his mind, made his dual hearts sing for the preparation of battle, in spite of the deamon-poison stings that caused his body to ache fiercely all over. Joth struggled against his bindings again, feeling some of the metal begin to stretch and give way beneath his bulk and strength.

The thousand son continued to ignore him completely, his chanting in the partially air-filled cave bouncing off of the walls, creating an echo that made it seem as if dozens or even hundreds of fellow Sorcerers were chanting with him, just a beat or two off of his own chanting. The blue of warp use continued to intensity- and started to color and light the water where the other Mer sat tall, hands weaving complicated symbols over the sacrificial bones and meat laid out on the altar the fucker was sitting in front of.

The bones and meat had begun to glow as well. Moments after that, they began to move, slowly at first before gaining speed. They started to spin around and around the room, with each revolution getting faster and faster. Along with the chanting, Joth could swear that he could hear the last pained and frightened calls that the large aquatic mammal had made - had they been a warning call, to chase others away, or a desperate plea for help?

As the glowing and chanting continued to intensify, one of the larger organs suddenly splattered against a sharp rock, causing the color of the warp-crafted light to change from blue to magenta.

Oh fuck no.

Whichever of the dark powers the thousand son had been seeking to strengthen, the plea had just shifted to another, and Joth was not going to participate in a Slaaneshi ritual while tied to a big, fuck-off boulder. He could be interpreted as part of the sacrifice and that was not happening.

Joth continued to thrash and struggle against his binings, feeling the Metal continue to give way…

But the warp-light was intensifying, and the distinctive crunch of bone on stone intensified the magenta hue, prompting the Khornate Chaos Marine to triple his efforts in an attempt to escape.

The light, chanting and spinning of flesh and bone continued to intensify, weĺl-past blinking and deafening to Joth at this point, even as he'd shut his eyes, to try and preserve them.

The sound of his chains breaking was the sweetest down Joth could ever remember hearing, and he shot out of the water - feeling the electrifying buzz of active warp-energy coating his scales… Which may or may not have consequences he'll need to deal with and/or adjust to. But that was Later Joth's problem. Right now he needed to get the fuck out of here before the ritual either ended successfully.

Or… Considering this was a project led and done by The Thousand Sons… Blow up spectacularly horribly in their faces, leading to a widespread and devastating curse affliction them. But Joth had no interest in Being Cursed by an overconfident sorcerer coven.

He swum as swiftly as the twisting tunnels and partially filled watery caverns would allow him, following the scent of fresh air.

About half-way through he battled into something small, soft and warm. His deepest instincts howled Mine! Protect! Defend! As different kinds of chains began to wind around his soul, leading into your small and delicate psychic fingertips.

Having no desire nor time to explain what he was fleeing, Joth scoops you, his newly bonded human up and continues to swim at his top speed, keeping you tucked into his chest, both so that you’re as safe as he can make you be at the moment, and so that you don’t slow him down.

He does not stop when he carries you up and out of the underwater cave system that you’d been exploring. Nor does he slow down as you flail and scream - nor heed much to the confused yelling of your friends.

But since those yelling humans are important to you, they are also picked up as he continues swimming through the air as fast as he can. He air-swims for hours before gently setting you and your friends down on the soft candy beach. He curls around you protectively as a wave of magenta-tinted exhaustion hits him “Danger… in the caves.. Do not return… Little Bonded…” He croon, making sure to use the same language that you and your friends have been yelling at him the most in, his eyes closing, even as he keeps curled protectively around you.