#legion of nines (daemons of tzeentch)

[tzeenneth]

𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐈𝐑𝐎𝐍 𝐊𝐍𝐈𝐆𝐇𝐓 𝐀𝐍𝐃 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐀𝐂𝐊 𝐏𝐈𝐓

The Iron Knight is a legendary champion of Tzeentch, said to be descended from the line of the first Daemon Prince of Tzeentch. As such, what is known about him is shrouded by the inexorable march of time and twisted further by the beings with who he keeps company: liars and schemers, the daemons of the Trickster. However, some tales persist even across deceptions, retellings, and all the different iterations: a mortal man from a storied line, stricken with nurgh wrought leprosy whilst untangling himself from a scheme woven by the Changer himself.

He manages to free himself and decimate both the Nurglite host responsible for his condition and the several enemy factions by luring them into their fetid embrace, but is slain by the Nurglish disease before he can truly enjoy the fruits of his labors. However, before the Plague Lord can lay claim to his soul, Tzeentch snatches it from between Nurgle's rotting fingers. So has the Iron Knight been a sore spot and point of contention between the Changer and Poxmaster, a subject that never fails to lessen the broad smile of Grandfather Nurgle.

The Knight is named such either for his constitution or his daemonic mask, said to hide his leprotic disfigurements. A creature of few words, the Iron Knight is one of the very few daemon princes of Tzeentch who does not have wings. Instead, he traverses the Crystal Lands on the back of a large Cockatrice. His abode, the Citadel of the Iron Knight, is well garrisoned and attended as well as decorated with the petrified forms of Daemon Princes and Greater Daemons foolish enough to mock his lack of wings.

Along with being master of the Citadel, the Iron Knight oversees the Black Pit. The Pit is a inky sub-dimension within the Crystal Lands that holds the prisoners of Tzeentch, though for what fell purpose none can say for sure. The Iron Knight is both charged with guarding this location and ensuring none of it's inhabitants leave and forbidden from actually leaving his citadel, cursed by Tzeentch for some slight no one quite remembers. The Winds of Ulgu blows strongly here and those taken by the Pit of Shades become yet another prisoner in this dark and endless pit. In order to obey Tzeentch's edict and observe his punishment, the Iron Knight makes use of shadowy, semi-corporeal clones to carry out his will.

Banner made with Driblex's Helbrass Reskin

[ask-the-crimson-king]

The sorcerer continues along the tour as he listens to Fabius's questions. It is when he begins questioning his motives that he pauses, his steps coming to a stop. He takes a moment of consideration before responding, continuing on his way.

"He has always been a visionary," he begins. "He has always had the grandest visions of the future for all of us. And, for quite some time, I had felt his ideals were my own." As he turns the final corner, they are greeted by four Rubricae standing guard. Zikar-Sin dips his head to them, stopping before intricately decorated doors, embossed with the ouroboros that painted the pauldrons of all within the Legion. The edges depicted feathers intertwined with twisted and mutated limbs, with nine eyes placed along them, with the ninth eye itself being in the center of the Legion icon.

"I do feel the need to be close to him. Many within the Legion feel so. He is the Crimson King -- our King. To be near to him is to be close to a star itself. There is power there, and an intellect to rival any other found in the galaxy," he said. He let out a sigh, brushing a hand through his sandy-blonde hair.

"But my relationship with him is complicated. I still do hold him in very high regard and esteem, and I am more than blessed indeed to be requested to help with this undertaking, but..." He tilts his head, pursing his lips together. "In a way, you are correct. My time away from the Legion, especially working alongside the likes of the Word Bearers, has taught me the virtue of leaving the past alone. Initially, I thought we were trying to restore Prospero to be as it was. I have since learned the truth of the matter, and I am still not entirely sure how I feel about it."

He turned back on his heel, opening the door and revealing a vast archive, with all manner of shelves filled with tomes and scrolls and artifacts sitting neatly in stasis. They appeared to stretch into infinity both in height and in length, occasionally interspersed with tables holding all manner of strange and esoteric items. Among the shelves, there was the occasional sorcerer riding upon a disc of Tzeentch, or the rare human or daemon also running amok. A few Tzaangors could also be spotted pulling things from shelves, stacking them onto platforms that were unseen to the naked eye.

"I will explain the goals of the project and how the Legion will make use of it soon, but for now, welcome to one wing of our vast library and archival network," Zikar-Sin said, gesturing to the chamber around them. "It is immense and ever-growing, but it hopefully should not be too hard to navigate. The only downside is that you may need the help of someone who has some form of psychic ability or through the use of a Tzaangor or daemonic scribe. All that you see here is only surface perceptions. Allow me to demonstrate."

The sorcerer walked to the nearest shelf, packed with volumes neatly arrayed. He rested one hand on them, looking back to Fabius and his companions. "If you are to look closely at these books, you will notice none have their contents printed upon the cover nor spines. Same goes with the scrolls. This is because these are meant to be placeholders -- they represent the space that the particular tome you are looking for would hold. Follow so far?" he asked.

"However, if you were to say, be looking for an evolutionary history of the fauna of Prospero..." Zikar-Sin plucked a book from the shelf, opening it to reveal a cladistic diagram from one of the random pages within. "You can find it as easily as you wish. It is a manner of exerting a bit of willpower, which is why it's more easily done by one with some form of psychic knowledge." He closed the book. "Once the book is off the shelf, it will retain whatever knowledge you have called upon until it is returned. Does that make sense?"

[The thread was continually being quite long, so I am making a new continuation post; prior reply found here.]

@the-consortium

"Most of the human crew have not exhibited many signs of change or mutation," Zikar-Sin said as he turned to begin leading Fabius and his... allies? Friends? Did Fabius Bile have anyone he called a friend? The sorcerer couldn't tell. Regardless, he began leading them down one of the many winding halls that made the ship seem paradoxically larger than it actually was. "Many of them have been the ones helping to ferry in the psykers from elsewhere in the galaxy to safety. Though there will be substantial mutation found among the mortal populace that will eventually inhabit Tizca, I can assure you."

One of the crewmen saluted Zikar-Sin and his entourage as they went back, a smaller and bonier arm hanging over one ofhis shoulders holding a bag of tools. One of his eyes were missing, the socket now long since scarred over.

"Our first destination will be the ship's internal archive," the sorcerer proclaimed. "So that you are familiar with how to navigate it, at least. It exists as a literal extension of the libraries we keep on Sortiarius. The small library provided for you is paltry in comparison, of course. From there we will go to the observatory where I can give you a more firsthand look at the present climates of Prospero and Sortiarius, along with a look at their pasts for a point of reference. Afterwards, well... We can see what piques your interests."

[arch-magister-khnemu]

THE ARCH MAGISTER

Ferando Khnemu

Exalted Sorcerer of the Thousand Sons, Arch Magister of the Drowned Moon Sect, Heavenmaster of Seshat

“I detest trickery. But if we ourselves are to suffer deception, our hands are … zzz …”

- Khnemu, the Somnolent

/ Age (M42): 11,170 /

Fer Khnemu oversees the training of Thousand Sons neophytes. He is chronically fatigued.

M30: A kind warrior mage with a sense of humor

M42: A jaded and snarky sorcerer lord

Occupation: teaching, scheming

Origin: Prospero [830.M30]

Skills: sorcery, biomancy

Likes: the old ways of the legion, justice, knowledge

Dislikes: insolence, scheming, cruelty

Affiliation:

3rd fellowship, Pavoni Cult

The Legion's Netjer (teachers; cult adepts)

Cult of Knowledge, 3rd Sect

Equipment

Artificer Mk III Power Armor: A gift from Khnemu’s Terran mentor, Jul Pran; an ancient suit of power armor adorned with ibis & Pavoni motifs, commissioned in time for the Komenka Troika Xenocide. When observed in the astral plane, this baroque armor shines with a blinding lunar radiance, or suffocates all aetheric sight with an impenetrable darkness.

The Spear of Iah: This force-spear is inscribed with catalyst etchings attuned to Prospero’s moon. Its design pays homage to the spear wielded by the sorcerous Prosperine moon goddess of ancient myth, Iah.

The Hand of Tides: A wicked lightning claw that resonates with authority among the daemons of Tzeentch. Its scythe-like platinum claws constantly drip a black murk; its fullers are dyed a deep blue, a reminder of long past glories.

Retinue, Servants, and Allies of convenience

Ravi Suvesh: Primus Medicae; currently one of the few sorcerers allowed to tend to the legion’s precious geneseed. Former member of the Heroditine Cirle of the Legion’s Apothecarion, once attached to the 3rd Fellowship.

Arhnath Bharam: The Arch Magister’s sworn sword. Former Blade Master of the Khenetai Occult’s Naunet terminator elite.

Honored Mahendra: Guardian of Seshat; a revered sorcerer interred within an Osiron dreadnaught. Former master of the Pavoni arts.

His nine Magisters, including Heh & Yah, and their Thrallbands

Nenime the Corsair Princess: A funny eldar who should know better.

Notable Events

The Great Change

Xenocide of the Kamenka Troika

Secondment to the Salamanders Legion

Fall of Prospero; the assault on the Locis Mundus

Siege of Terra

The Rubric of Ahriman

Age of Burning

Siege of Fenris

Battle of Luna

Invasion of the Stygious Sector

Skirmish at Kaelac’s Bane

The Ritual of the Damned

Sect of the Drowned Moon

Led by Fernando Khnemu, the sorcerers of the Drowned Moon are masters of lunar arcana and conjurations related to the warp’s abyss; when called to war, they bring to bear luminous powers and leviathan screamers of Tzeentch.

The Sect makes its home deep within Sortiarius’s shifting wastes in the Heaven of Seshat: a vast stepwell citadel watched over by a pair of ceratsus knights, the remnants of a jackal-helmed Khenetai Occult blade-cabal, and Naunet terminators.

The Sect also has great influence over Hara, a world of expansive salt flats and underground oceans, where permanent water can only be found where the surface crust has broken away to form enormous sinkholes. Hara’s human population, the Kin, are deeply spiritual and psychically gifted. Scattered among nine sorcerous clans, they provide the Sect with its favored soldiery.

[purephoenician]

Character Bios

The rebloggable version!  I mean to expand on these later.

Tenebrus:  Also known as Tenny, he is a space marine of the Emperor’s Children legion.  Before he was initiated, he was a child stage actor, singer, and dancer–primarily owing to his parents wanting to live off his income.  As he grew older, however, his parents worried that his voice changing would mean losing their cash cow, and so had him castrated in the hopes of preserving his voice.  Tenebrus promptly ran away to the Emperor’s Children and was made astartes, because Fabius Bile likes a challenge.

Sekbas and Abrumek:  Mirror twins born on Prospero, Sekbas was completely unable to cast magic, while his twin was a more than capable (if highly anxious) spellcaster.  As Sekbas grew older, his lack of magic bothered him more and more until he eventually decided to fly away and join the World Eaters.  He survived Angron, general initiation, and the Nails, and thus became a full World Eater.  Abrumek was aware that something was very wrong with his twin after the Nails were implanted, however, and thus flew off to join the Thousand Sons–they had the greatest access to magic in the known galaxy outside of Tzeentch himself, and surely they would have access to spells that could help him find Sekbas.  They refused to help Abrumek until he proved that he was in fact a fighter (if highly anxious), and he eventually won becoming a space marine from them.  He is now an Aspiring Sorcerer with a band of nine Rubric Marines, and did manage to find his twin.  They often act together, with Sekbas protecting Abrumek from his anxiety-daemons and Abrumek helping Sekbas with the social aspect of living.

Estodel:  Estodel is a Raven Guard noise marine who turned “traitor” in order to protect Deliverance from an imminent attack from Chaos forces.  While he was successfully able to dupe the leader of said Chaos forces into believing he really did want to turn traitor, he was not able to convince the leader to not force him to take oaths with one of the four Chaos gods–namely Slaanesh, who made him into a noise marine.  He was then able to convince the Chaos forces to attack outlying planets belonging to the Raven Guard instead of directly going for Deliverance–this saved his homeworld at the expense of being seen and believed to be a true traitor.  He now works mostly independently alongside Chaos, doing what he can to sabotage their efforts to destroy the Imperium.

[warsofasoiaf]

Since now you’ve covered Nurgles primarch, care to cover Magnus the Red and the Thousand Sons?

Magnus is a tragic story of hubris and raises the question of fate and destiny in the 40K universe.

Magnus, more than any other Primarch, is defined by his use of sorcery. On a planet of outcasts feared for their sorcery, a red-skinned giant was easy to fit in, and this cemented Magnus’s understanding and familiarity of the Warp, as it is a thing that is both a familial comfort as well as an appeal to his innate curiosity and drive to learn. His early endeavors with Warp-craft taught him much, but he believed that due to his great psychic might, the warnings of Amon could go unheeded. His psychic might was phenomenal, the Great Ocean offered nothing that could harm him. And thus, Magnus began the path of pride that would lead to his ruination.

Interestingly enough, Magnus retained a psychic connection with the Emperor, but his actions were very similar to the other Primarchs pre-Emperor, uniting the various factions on his home planet, taking out monsters, rising to the top because of ability and intelligence, so while it is possible that knowledge of the Emperor and his creation influenced him, I do not believe it is the case, he seemed to carry the instincts of his fellow Primarchs. When the Emperor showed up, he and the Emperor were old friends and allies. Magnus saw a fellow scholar devoted to the advancement of knowledge.

The first big crisis for Magnus was how to handle the Thousand Sons gene-seed, as next to the Emperor’s Children, the Thousand Sons had one of the lowest-strength legions thanks to defects within it. His legionnaires were succumbing to the horrid Flesh Change, which transformed them violently and painfully into mindless Chaos Spawn. While some in the Imperium thought euthanizing the Thousand Sons was the merciful thing to do, Magnus pleaded for the Emperor to give him a chance to cure it using his sorcery. This he was able to do, though he was tricked by Tzeentch. Magnus believed he lost his eye for the power to stop the Change, though apparently their cure was temporary in exchange for their doom later on. What Tzeentch was really after though was to continue to stoke Magnus’s pride. The warning about the Warp were for lesser minds with less power, ability, and knowledge than Magnus. By believing that his sorcery saved his sons, Tzeentch was leading Magnus to continue to ignore the warnings that others were giving him. Magnus and the Sons soldiered on, distrusted by many of their fellow Astartes.

There is no discussing Magnus without taking a look at the Council of Nikaea. First off, I’m not doing the Council of Nikaea any justice, you really should go read McNeill’s depiction of it in A Thousand Sons, it’s a great read. Mortarion and Russ, among other detractors to include Space Wolf Othier Wyrdmake, who betrayed Ahriman’s trust to divulge Thousand Sons secrets to the Council, finally had enough of psychic powers thanks to many of the psychic threats they faced in the Crusade and the psykers in the Age of Strife. Mortarion offers a stinging rebuke couched in concern for his brother, others offered tales of psychic monsters, and Magnus offers a spirited defense of warpcraft, and Yesugei (awesome character BTW) offered the third option that would eventually lead to Sanctioned Psykers. You can see Magnus’s real strengths and shortcomings, as his pride has him gloss over much of the psychic dangers while speaking of the real benefits, whereas Yesugei, by his own admission, bumbles the proposal thanks to his poor command of High Gothic. You can actually really see the whole Thousand Son’s strengths and weaknesses on display here, since they are the ones who notice all the seven’s around the Death Guard (Nurgle’s number), but do not recognize the nine’s of Tzeentch. It’s a great chapter even for novices to 40K lore, though I will admit the blend of politics and intrigue really are enhanced by setting knowledge.

The interception of Horus’s visions and Magnus’s Folly highlight Magnus’s greatest strengths and flaws as a sorcerer and person. No one else could have intercepted the vision, and it takes a sorcerer of no small skill to hijack the vision. But Magnus never understood Horus’s deep-seated pride and resentment, that was why Magnus couldn’t persuade Horus the way Erebus could. Erebus could needle on Horus’s fear of being forgotten with the vision of the grimdark future, Magnus could only offer empty promises that thinks weren’t necessarily going to be the way that Horus envisioned. The Folly though, was borne out of Magnus’s desire to prove once and for all that sorcery could be a boon. If he could warn the Emperor using sorcery, the Emperor would have to accept that sorcery saved the Imperium. Russ and Mortarion would choke on their scoffs, they didn’t stop the civil war.

And just then, Magnus was hooked. Magnus was so convinced that he couldn’t be wrong, that nothing in the Warp could threaten him, that he never conceived of the fact that he could be wrong. So when Magnus breaks through the Webway, he finds that he inadvertently did Chaos’s bidding, and Magnus was blindsided. He was not the genius he thought he was, and Tzeentch was laughing his ass off. This put him into a great depression, as his very sense of self was challenged. Originally, he sent many of his sons away, he hid knowledge of the Space Wolves, because he wanted to not aid Chaos any further. The psychic connection to his Sons, combined with the knowledge that he would die for nothing, eventually got him to take the field. He fought in a defiant rejection of Fate, and when all was done, Tzeentch came to him with one more offer: your soul to save your sons. Magnus cared for his sons and felt betrayed by the Emperor. And so he took the deal, and damned himself for his sons.

The Thousand Sons themselves were sent to the Planet of Sorcerors, lost and adrift, needing to place their gene-father back together from the shards left behind. Ahriman in particular is the quinessential Thousand Son, convinced of his power and correctness. He would work to rebuild Magnus into the Crimson King, the daemon-primarch seeking vengeance against an Imperium which spurned and betrayed him. Ahriman himself would cast the Rubric, which stopped the Flesh-Change at the cost of obliterating the non-psyker Thousand Sons into dust sealed within their power armor. When Magnus angrily confronted Ahriman over the Rubric, Tzeentch stopped him from killing him, as it turned out it was another one of his schemes. Magnus, used by the Emperor, used by Tzeentch, was now confronted with the ultimate refutation, just like Mortarion. He wasn’t as smart as he thought, he couldn’t see the Emperor’s plan, he couldn’t see Tzeentch’s manipulations that led him to become a Daemon, and he couldn’t even stop Tzeentch from using the Rubric. Magnus, confronted with the reality of his hubris, and left speechless.

Of course, that was not the whole of Magnus. Notably, one shard of Magnus’s drive to serve the Imperium would be fused to Revuel to become Janus, and other shards would be subsumed by the new persona of Magnus, the Crimson King. The only other shard of note would be “Magnus,” the father of his sons. Now, this is most interesting, as “Magnus” had a plan for Ahriman to use the Rubric, fail, have him build a new Rubric with more knowledge, and this would fix the Flesh Change and allow Magnus to become whole once more, with “Magnus” at the head of the fragments. In this, “Magnus” still exhibits his notable pride, and the Rubric is pretty awful stuff (though the Flesh Change is no picnic either, and it has stabilized and freed the Thousand Sons from Tzeentch though Ahriman just ended up serving him willingly anyway). The Crimson King though, through his own plans, would end up absorbing most of the other fragments and thus the plan would have resulted only in Magnus’s destruction. Ultimately, “Magnus” decided to cease to exist rather than be absorbed by the Crimson King. Magnus as he exists now is the Crimson King, the one who enthusiastically declared for Horus, the one who craves vengeance. He is Magnus without his nobler self, that Magnus chose to die rather than become the monster of his worse nature. The greatness in Magnus is long gone, only the Crimson King exists now.

Thanks for the question, Anon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

[bloomofiron]

Martell, the Cage of Tin and Velvet Daemon, the First Age of Mankind

While traveling the cosmos in his youth, Tzeentch came upon a great wonder within the Warp, a singularity where fate and magic converged, the output of energy allowing for impossible things. The true nature of this convergence is known to no one, save him, and he knew he could allow no other possess it. Crafting a cage of tin wires, he ensnared the convergence within, trapping it forever. Around the cage, he drew shrouds of behemoth leather and gorgon scales and spider's silk and daemon hides, so that none might peer inside. Satisfied with his work, he named the unsorted pile of leather and cloth 'Martell', the first of his children.

It was in Martell's Tzeentchian nature to struggle against her prison, and she changed herself many times, trying to escape. It was to no avail, the cage the Lord of Change had trapped her in held her too closely, and in time, she settled for comfort. A creature of impossible things, Martell once turned her gaze outwards and glimpsed Slannesh as She-Who-Thirsts might have been, a Goddess of Love, Harmony, and Duty, and on this, she based the other half of her nature. In demeanor, Martell is thoughtful and kind, her smile disarming and her touch soft. It is, however, never the correct action to deny her what she is owed, including respect, as her anger, when provoked, is a terrible, cosmos-shaking thing.

In her daemon form, Martell stands just under nine meters in height and is comprised entirely of fabric that lays over a skeleton of tin wires. The nature of her outer clothing varies to suit the time and place, though it is always voluminous and flowing, and she typically appears hooded and veiled. The inside of her mouth is red velvet, like a pincushion, though the hundreds of thousands of pins, needles, and hooks face outwards, ready to catch and devour. Further down her gullet are rings of thimbles, to grind and pulverize. It is best, in general, not to be anywhere near her mouth. Her eyes are brass buttons and her face is a milk-white cloth, stretched tightly over something that rests beneath it, to give it form and definition. Martell's movements are sometimes jerky and askance, like a puppet that was improperly strung, though that's just a deception to trick the viewer, or perhaps it's that that the human eye can't keep up with her properly. In combat, she is a supremely dangerous foe, ribbons of her body flare outwards to choke, garotte, and strangle, and her hands scatter legions of men as a child might play with leaves.

It was in this form that Martell met Varajan, when the Black Tyrant was the Green Sun, and the two fell in love and were married. They have been in love ever since, though her husband's life ebbs and flows, and each time he is reborn, he forgets her - though their love is such that this forgetfulness cannot endure, and in the end he will always find his way back to her.

Despite her prowess in combat, Martell is not the equal of Khorne's warmongering spawn or as invincible as Nurgle’s Great Unclean Ones, and summoners do not often call her to the Materium to send her to war. Her true talents lie elsewhere.

A seamstress without peer, Martell knows the secrets to crafting steelsilk, weaving adamant glass into clothing, plucking emotion from a mortal's heart and fashioning it into cloth, as well as a dozen other esoteric techniques lost to time. As a creature of the Warp, she sees little problem with impermanence, and she cannot impart these abilities to others by crafting STCs. Martell also styles herself a matchmaker, and mortals are sometimes tempted to contact her for romantic advice. Her fees are... quite steep, but her results are guaranteed.

Finally, when bound to a summoner (either willingly or unwillingly), Martell can be worn, and when she is used in a such a way, she imparts a fragment of her impossible nature unto her master. When worn, Martell appears on her master's person as clothing appropriate to the individual or situation. The nature of her body does not allow her to transform into power armor (which isn't truly clothing), but she might appear as a bodyglove, hooded cape, jacket, veil, or scarf. This article of clothing grants her master a Minor, Major, and Epic power, or three powers in total. These powers do not cost experience or character points (though they may have other costs associated with activating them, such as spending Willpower or magic points), and the character can use them so long as he wears Martell on his person. Like Martell's appearance, these powers should suit the character's personality and theme. Some guidelines are given below.

Minor - This power is something that any Heroic character might have. A new sword technique, a simple spell or psychic power, a small increase in toughness, etc.

Major - This is a power that an important or unique character would have. Knowledge of a complicated spell or ritual, potent psychic powers, master-level combat techniques, etc.

Epic - This power is something that would normally lie outside the reach of mortals. Access to spells or rituals of the highest circles, combat techniques known only to the Primarchs, the ability to fend off any attack made by a mortal weapon, etc.

[wtf-skittens]

Skits, how did you get into warhammer40k?

TL:DR version: Via my university librarian and the A Thousand Sons novel, mostly. XD

Long version: I was at uni studying games animation, and one day sometime in 2009 I noticed my uni librarian, a bloke nicknamed Dingo, painting some miniatures during his lunch break. I was all ‘hey that looks cool’ and he was like ‘yeah wanna try it?’ He dug up some random lil tyranid for me to test paint, and it turned out I was pretty good at it! (twenty-odd years of prior art experience probably helped XD). I also quite enjoyed it, and it was a good way to kill time and rest my brain between classes. (It also led to Dingo having to often remind me to breathe, because I would legitimately forget to do so regularly while painting. ¬_¬ I am not a clever man)

So I ended up painting one of his several armies for him, a Tzeentch-focused Chaos Marine army he called the Heralds of Change. One of the squads in said army was a squad of Rubricae, and because I really liked the blue and gold of the box art, he let me paint them that instead of the purple and silver of the rest of the force. This army kinda became ‘mine’ while I was at uni, since I’d painted all of it. ;) 

There were other people at uni who also played 40k, and a lot of them kept their armies in the same side-room of the library that Dingo kept all his (plus terrain) in. So it wasn’t uncommon to find people playing 40k between classes and such, and ofc I ended up joining in as well, using ‘my’ Heralds of Change army. Through them I also started playing the Dawn of War computer games, and eventually started reading the Horus Heresy novels. By this point I’d been enjoying the 40k hobby for like a year without paying a single cent of my own money. XD Good times. 

And then I read A Thousand Sons, and absolutely fell in love with the XV Legion. Damnit. So that’s about the point where I went “hey I’d like to make my own Thousand Sons army!”, and Dingo gave me that original squad of Rubric Marines and their accompanying Rhino that I’d painted to help form the core of my fledgling army. They were soon joined by a second Rubric squad + Rhino, a Defiler, a Vindicator, a Land Raider, the metal Ahriman model, a big ol’ winged daemon prince, and a Forgeworld Thousand Sons dreadnought. That dread was my first real foray into sculpting anything with greenstuff, and again, I found out I wasn’t terrible at it. XD Then I got myself a squad of chaos terminators, but I decided I wanted to make them look more like the 30k TSons artwork in the Collected Visions Horus Heresy artbook. So that squad was my first attempt at major conversion, and despite all the things I’d do differently with them now, I’m still quite proud of them.

Now, during all the games I’d played, the sorcerer model of my second Rubricae squad developed something of a reputation of sucking hardcore. The dice seemed to specifically hate his face. He’d fail to hit or wound anything; he’d be the first in the squad or army to get killed by the enemy, or he’d fail a psychic test and die horribly, or he’d explode into giant chicken-daemon which would also fail to do anything useful before getting killed messily, etc. etc. So we nicknamed that one particular model Kenny. “You killed Kenny! AGAIN! You bastards!” 

At some point after reading A Thousand Sons, I decided one day to look up Egyptian names - I don’t even remember why. Just for the hell of it, I flipped to the “K” section - and found Khentimenti, mystical god of the dead’s destiny.

Kenny immediately became Khenti, and I think that was about the time I first started actually thinking of background fluff and characterisation for my lil plastic/metal mandollies. XD And THEN I decided that my lil band of TSons were actually still loyalists, so I had to come up with a backstory for that, and reasons WHY they were blue instead of red, and why they’d still have a daemon prince and a Defiler (because I still wanted to use those models, damn it), so on and so forth. My fluff also tied in to the fluff of some of my mates, and we all developed our own lil collaborative area of 40k space where all our armies hang out and interact, etc. So that led to a story I wrote based on one of the games I’d had with some of them, and I’ve been developing the fluff for my army (alongside theirs) ever since. XD It also led to me starting a second TSons army - this one more 30k-styled, in the red and white instead of blue and gold.

One of the other things that’s kept me in the hobby is the various RP games that Fantasy Flight released - Deathwatch, Dark Heresy, Only War, & Black Crusade. My lil group of mates have been playing those various games for the past four or five years, even moreso than the tabletop miniatures game. Since all our games are set in the same general area, stuff that happens in one game can affect (or completely derail ¬_¬) what goes on in another. My various characters have lost enough body parts collectively to almost build an entire new person. XD Good times!

anyway uh wall-of-text crits for over nine thousaaaaaaand~ I hope you enjoyed this ramble! XD

[tzeenneth]

Mo’arkai the Entangler, First Daemon Prince of Tzeentch

Mo’arkai was the first Daemon Prince of Tzeentch, raised in short order to her fellow firsts: Eydis of Khorne, Pthosyst of Nurgle, and Quellosh of Slaanesh. Like her contemporaries, she was the rival of Be’lakor and spent most of her existence frustrating his attempts to takeover the world. Mo’arkai can see the strands of fate of every individual person and often endeavors to tie them together should it benefit her or Tzeentch to do so. This can be to the boon of the recipient, but more often it is to their woe. No one knows this better than Be’lakor, for she has entangled his string of fate to that of many rival newborn Princes. These new princes are as much rival to her as Be’lakor and using her ability, she slays many of the former.

Be’lakor proves tenacious, however, and lives to see the completion of the Vortex and to be en-yoked by the Gods of Chaos for his transgressions.

Mo’arkai still exists, keeping her same name and tying fates together for fun or purpose. She destroys fellow daemons who dare make use of her name or face and has a hated rival in the Thief of Faces, the Changeling.

[tzeenneth]

WIP.