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moodymisty · 3 months

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Hello 🌹I hope you are doing well in life. I'm so glad you're accepting requests again. In a way, I've been coming to tumblr for your blog lately✨ Sanguinius/aristocratic reader from Terra. A performance or concert on the next conquered planet. It was a long campaign, it took several primarchs to subjugate the world. And now the event is going on (they are in a separate box), the reader becomes bored and she casually invites Sanguinius to do something more interesting (🤭❤️‍🔥). He says that his brothers or sons may hear. And the reader objects that they are probably busy with something else and will not pay attention. As a result, someone heard it and was very surprised that the reader was capable of such a thing. And she calmly reacts something like “you underestimate my power”))) Something like this, you can change the conditions in any direction❤

[ 𝕸𝖔𝖔𝖉𝖞𝕸𝖎𝖘𝖙𝖞'𝖘 𝕸𝖆𝖘𝖙𝖊𝖗𝖑𝖎𝖘𝖙 | 𝕬𝖔3 ]

Author's Note: So sorry for this taking so long first of all! This one got stuck at the bottom of my ask box and I've finally gotten to it. I hope you enjoy and that it's worth the wait!

Relationships: Sanguinius/Fem!Reader

Warnings: Some semi-public handsiness, The implication of Sanguinius drinking your blood and enjoying it

Word Count: 1046

"If I'd known this would end up so boring, I would've considered faking being sick."

Sanguinus with an ever so slight turn of his head, looks down at you from the corner of his eye and smiles.

"Then I would've had to rely on Corvus to help me negotiate. Would you not spare me such a fate?"

You jokingly reply that perhaps you would, though it's not as if he often needs it.

Sanguinius; The Great Angel, the son of the Emperor, but foremost a mutant. It hadn't been easy, making so many overlook such a glaring, unmissable detail. Even with as resplendent as he is, it is impossible to ignore the great white wings that cue into his technically mutated being.

Residents of the current Imperium have, but many planets that the Blood Angels come across have less than stellar reactions to Sanguinius on first impression.

Impressions after however, tend to fair far better.

Leaning back into the plush seat you look away from whatever display the planet is putting on- the closest word you can use for it is play- and your head tilts to rest on Sanguinius' bicep. He's no longer dawning his armor, though his sword rests right beside him, and instead is dressed up in ornate woven clothing from Baal.

In red, of course. Part of you wonders if he simply prefers to match his legion's title, or if he enjoys being a cliche.

You attempt to hold back a sigh, and instead let out a yawn and roll your eyes. If you're bored, you can't imagine how his men are feeling, having been on the battlefield not two days ago and are now here chomping at the bit.

"Why can't we return to your quarters on the Red Tear already?"

Sanguinus looks down at you as you lean against him. His smile isn't as wide as it was before, still sitting upright.

"You're lucky my brothers aren't within earshot to misconstrue your words, my love."

Though they are here. You can't find Corvus, but you do see Guilliman in his distinctive blue across the theater; Though his head is hung oddly low.

You elect not to point out to Sanguinius that he's fallen asleep.

"And how do you know that they would be misconstruing it?" You say instead, looking up towards him and failing to completely hold in a devious smirk.

Sanguinus, instead of taking the demure but seductive bait you’ve laid out for him, scolds you instead.

"You should clean that mouth of yours then, with my sons so close."

As if Sanguinius has never before said something a bit lewd. You roll your eyes and look up at him with the sweetest, softest face you can muster, head tilted to one side.

“I highly doubt they are be able to hear us in a room this soundproofed.”

You know that despite your high collared clothes that there's a mark- one of many- he's left on your neck that's still fading, and it's implication might be just the thing you need to bring him closer to you.

When your lips touch finished speaking you watch the way his eyes leave your own for a moment, darting downward.

While you know that in almost every aspect he can overpower you, outsmart you, at the end of the day he is still distinctly human.

"I think that mind of yours will be one of the few things I will never truly understand."

Sanguinus' massive size difference often times makes the simplest of things so difficult, as he presses a hand into the arm of your chair farthest away in order to lean down closer to you.

His eyes are soft, ever so slightly hooded, as his hair tickles your cheek. You had little interest in the spectacle put on for your beloved to begin with, but now that you have his complete attention it’s faded to little more than background noise.

His lips press against yours, warm- trapping your upper lip between his own. You can't help but softly moan into his mouth as you finally get what you wanted, feeling his other hand lay against your thigh.

It dances along your leg, large and covering so much of your thigh; Now it sits tantalizingly close to the apex. Your legs spread slightly to give him room that you desperately hope he'll make use of, not that you've convinced him. Your body is hot, lower stomach tight.

When he pulls away he doesn't leave for long, lips drifting across your cheek before pressing against the pulse point just below the corner of your jaw.

He can feel the way your blood pulses underneath your skin, against his lips, and his desire grows. He likes to torture himself with it, perhaps. With the sound of your heartbeat, and the though of a taste.

Sanguinus has nigh unbeatable restraint when it comes to the curse put upon him and his sons, but it doesn’t mean you haven’t convinced him to give in once or twice.

His lips brush along your neck and your hands weave into his hair, breaths becoming quicker. Sanguinus, once against the idea now presses against you harder, pushing you into the seat, his hesitance forgotten or simply abandoned.

Neither of you hear the sound of the door to the private stall opening until it is almost too late, and two of his sons spot their primarch quickly pulling away from you and leaning back upright. He looks at them, turned in his seat. Sanguinus looks as picturesque as usual apart from a slightly jostling of his hair, but you look out of breath, clothes wrinkled.

The slightly larger of the two Astartes clears his throat.

"Lord Sanguinus," The Blood Angel nearly stumbles over his words in a rare fit of discomfort.

"We should depart now. Corvus wishes to speak to you aboard the Red Tear."

The angel nods to his sons and rises, before offering you one massive hand. You gently take it, and he looks down at you and shakes his head. You know exactly what he’s thinking and you can’t help feel a bit prideful about it, even more so when he leans down just slightly to whisper to you.

"You will be my end, you know."

#sanguinius x reader #warhammer 40k x reader #primarch x reader #reader insert #reader #mywriting

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iapetusneume · 4 months

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Last Line Meme + WIP Wednesday

This goes to the last line if what I've written, and is not the whole scene.

(From an unpublished work that was originally supposed to be 6k but now its 24k and still not done-)

Also, while the fic itself is Explicit, this scene is not. Set between Unremembered Empire and Pharos, this fic goes AU and this scene takes place on Baal. It is going to be a lighthearted story.

There was a lull in the attentions being shown to Sanguinius, and so the Lion leaned in to whisper. "So, is it true that your sons not of Baal have your tolerance for spices?"

Sanguinius grinned, and it seemed that he had also been paying attention to the conversation between the Astartes. "Oh, none of my sons - of Baal or otherwise - have my tolerance. However, it is greater for them than most other Legions I've seen."

"What have been your observations?" the Lion asked.

"Kano might be onto something," Sanguinius said. "Some of us can have a great tolerance. Not all. It served those of us well whom were gifted with it, as well as our sons." Sanguinius took another sip of his mixed drink. "The Word Bearers and Salamanders have similar spice tolerances to my sons."

There was the awkward moment of the feeling akin to a sharp bit of fiber stuck in one's teeth after a meal - to talk so casually about one of the traitor legions - but the truth of the past was still the truth.

"I have noticed the Salamanders at Macragge enjoy dining with the Blood Angels," the Lion said, "and tend to do so with more frequency than any other legion."

"I've noticed that as well," Sanguinius said. His smile softened. "They had precious few seeds of their peppers from Nocturne. What we share from our greenhouses, and what Roboute imports is a help, but it's not the same as home."

Anyone can consider themselves tagged. :)

#iapetus writes #iapetus talks 40k

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valhallasoutlaw · 7 months

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I liked how the little cards looked, so here's the palette card and insignia of my homebrew chapter! (btw I couldn't find a higher resolution image so it looks a bit like shit but hey >.<) Enjoy and I'd love to hear any thoughts!

Name: The Angels Alba

Successor: Blood Angels

Chaptermaster: Ajax Alighieri

Founder: Janas Albanos

Strength: ~800

Temperament: The Angels Alba typically recruit aspirants that strongly reflect the passionate, reckless fervor of the Great Angel in combat. They're as quick to any other emotion as they are to anger, but even the rage subsides nearly as fast as it comes.

Notes: Their power armor is a unique sub-pattern of Mark VIII Errant plate that has been streamlined to appear aerodynamic--it is also called Tyto Plate, after the predatory avian native to Baal Primus. The scraps of the plate's Standard Template Construct was discovered by Janas Albanos on Baal Primus. They possess a heavier set of plate equipped with fusion jump packs that allow the Angels Alba to perform aggressive air-and-void strikes without sacrificing mobility or speed.

History: The Angels Alba are unique, as they share a mutual founding with the Order of the Stained Glass Rose, an Order Minoris under the Sisters Hospitaller. Albanos was serving with Saint Karsta Ignotia when the STC was discovered in an isolated sector of Baal Primus. The pair fought side by side against agents of chaos and returned not only victorious, but bearing the record of ancient Baalite technology. As a reward, Ignotia and Albanos were venerated and named founders of their respective battalions. The Angels Alba and the Order of the Stained Glass Rose would honor one another with their respective symbols, with the Angels bearing the Fleur-des-lis of the Sisters beneath their heraldry, while the Sisters incorporated the drop of blood venerating the Sons of Sanguinius.

#space marine oc #angels alba #blood angels oc chapter #adeptus astartes #warhammer 40k #adepta sororitas #the blangles are stored in the baals

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bastardsunlight · 2 years

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About Sanguinius

Sanguinius

Sire: The Emperor of Man Alias(es): Great Angel, Brightest One, Pigeon (Leman Russ), Angel Weakness: the Red Thirst Legion: Blood Angels

Bio: Scattered to the far corners of the universe at their birth, 18 clones of the Emperor of man are forced to grow into manhood on foreign soil, among strangers. Some of them are alone, some are raised fairly, some are raised poorly—all are demigods, worshipped in one way or another. Sanguinius is chief among these and the emperor’s favored son. Raised on the feral world Baal Secundus (the satellite of the deathworld, Baal, an irradiated wasteland), he draws his legion, the Blood Angels, from the Folk of Pure Blood. Their love and adoration is deep and mutual.

Appearance: Massive (~18’), golden-blond hair usually worn in ringlets and set with a delicate golden laurel. Handsome features, fine-boned face, deep red eyes, easy smile. Golden, ruby-studded power armor draped with the pelt of a carnodon. When not in armor, he favors a backless chiton-like garment and himation for formal occasions.

Personality: Gentle, thoughtful, and protective of humanity and his father, Sanguinius nevertheless does keenly feel his Primarchal superiority to “Normals”, though he does not express contempt toward them. He is a fierce warrior and strategist, but a bit idealistic on occasion, much to his detriment. Any aloofness displayed is a façade to protect that which is beneath: a deep love for the people he protects and his family.

Tag: unfortunateson

#aboutsanguinius #megaultrachicken #hi 40k fandom I'm here to know about .069% of the lore and be problematic

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deflare · 1 year

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Day 9, another First Founding chapter, and it’s My Boys! My other, slightly less horrible boys! Today it’s time for the IX Legion, the Blood Angels.

By the Blood of Sanguinius!

To understand the IX Legion, you need to understand the omophagea. It’s one of the organs that gets stuck into Space Marines as part of their creation process. What it lets them do is eat enemy flesh and brains in order to absorb the victim’s memories, as a way to get battlefield intel. The IX Legion’s omophagea is cranked up to maximum power, and that’s defined their whole history.

When they were first made, the IX Legion was terrifying, less of an army than a rabble of assorted murderers. Most legions would only recruit from healthy, unmutated populations. Not the IX; they recruited the most fucked-up mutants around, remaking them into beatific soldiers with supermodel looks. They fought with personal skill but without art or pride, butchering who they were sent to butcher. Their overactive omophagea meant that they were extra eager to eat the enemy dead; they also developed the tradition of fallen officers getting eaten by their successors (to absorb his knowledge and experience), who would then adopt the dead officer’s name. This earned the legion charming nicknames like “the Eaters of the Dead” and “the Revenant Legion”. They were on the way to being the Imperium’s most hated legion.

Then they met an angel.

That is, they met their Primarch, Sanguinius. Sanguinius had landed on the moon of the planet Baal, a rad-soaked wasteland full of mutants. They were awed by Sanguinius, a beautiful unmutated human who very quickly grew into a superpowered giant of a man. Well, unmutated except for one little detail: Sanguinius had a pair of giant white angel wings let him fly. He was also a powerful psyker with a gift for foresight. Details. Anyway, over time Sanguinius came to be worshipped as a god (against his wishes), and that’s how the Emperor found him. Sanguinius, having foreseen Big E coming, went along without a fight to meet his sons (after going through Primarch Training with his brother Horus, who became his best friend). When he met his legion, Sanguinius spoke of their great victories and honor, and he knelt before them. From that point on, they were his boys, forever loyal.

Under Sanguinius’ guidance, the Revenant Legion became the Blood Angels. They studied art and literature, poetry and music. They learned to control themselves and their bloodthirsty impulses (more on that in a bit). They went from artless butchers to the Imperium’s champions, noble defenders of the common person. In a few decades, the Angels went from one of the most hated to one of the most loved of the legions by the Imperium. After becoming Warmaster, Horus occasionally commented that the crown should have fallen on Sanguinius’ head.

As part of setting up the Heresy, Horus sent Sanguinius to a daemon-infested system to either fall to Chaos or get killed. Instead, the Blood Angels emerged a few years later, aware of Horus’ plans and real angry. After a brief period where Sanguinius was the ruler of a secondary backup Imperium, he and his lads raced to Terra. The Blood Angels, along with the White Scars and Imperial Fists, were among the primary loyalist legions fighting to defend the homeworld from the traitors. Finally, the Emperor and Sanguinius teleported onto Horus’ flagship to finish things once and for all. There, Sanguinius would fight Horus, buying time for Big E. And Horus, the angel’s brother and best friend, would kill him.

The Blood Angels, and all their successor chapters, suffer from two big curses. The first is the one that Sanguinius helped them tame, the Red Thirst. Deep within Sanguinius was a core of ferocious rage and bloodthirst, which was shared with his sons. While enthralled by the Thirst, a Blood Angel becomes obsessed with drinking human blood, losing himself in the need to kill. The second curse came with Sanguinius’ death. When consumed by emotion, the Blood Angel may start to hallucinate. They begin to see themselves as Sanguinius, and whoever their foe is becomes Horus in that final battle. From the outside, the Black Rage becomes a mad berserker, able to do little except rip and tear whatever they see in front of them. There’s a cool song about this. Marines lost to the Black Rage will sometimes be formed into a special unit called a Death Company, who are sent out to die in battle as front-line assault troops. Controlling the Black Rage is a high priority among the Angels and their successors.

The modern Blood Angels are still a beloved and iconic chapter of the Imperium. They tend to specialize in quick, close-ranged shock assaults, with a lot of unique wargear designed to facilitate that method of fighting. They still try to be noble defenders of the common folk, even as the desire to drink human blood sings within them. Also, they sleep in sarcophagi as part of their creation process and afterward as well. In case it wasn’t clear, the Blood Angels are angelic space vampires.

Their most recent lore focuses on their desperate defense of Baal. A full Tyranid* hive fleet was bearing down on Baal, and also a daemon who had beef with the Blood Angels was targeting them. The Blood Angels thus sent a call to all their successor chapters to stand and defend the homeworld. They arrived just in time to help fight, but also just in time to get trapped when the galaxy split in half. Baal was on the ‘wrong’ side of the rift, cut off from the rest of the Imperium. They’d have to fight on their own. And so they did, taking brutal losses, until Guilliman’s crusade finally arrived just in time to chase of the Tyranids and deliver fresh recruits in the form of Primaris marines. Guilliman appointed Dante, Chapter Master of the Blood Angels, as regent of Imperium Nihilus (the half of the Imperium on the other side of the rift), before moving on. So now the Blood Angels are the effective rulers of half the galaxy--or will be, once they go out and re-secure all the ground lost when the galaxy broke.

So why do I like these guys so much that I’d go into this much detail about them? They are, to paraphrase Pratchett, where the falling angel meets the rising ape. I love the tension between the noble, heroic goals of the legion/chapter and the vicious, manic rage that they just barely restrain. It’s a Vibe that I’ve always enjoyed playing with. A rare spot of relatable nobility and hope in this grimdark universe of 40k.

Also, I like vampires.

*What’s a Tyranid? (Christ, this post is going to be long)

So, there’s lots of aliens in the galaxy. There used to be a lot more, but the Imperium likes genociding them. The Imperium put less thought into what’s in other galaxies.

The Tyranids are an alien species that comes from outside our galaxy. They travel through space in massive hive fleets; all of their ‘technology’ is made out of Tyranid biomatter, connected by a psychic presence called the ‘hive-mind’.. When they come across a world with life on it, they’ll invade, swarming it with a combination of giant bug monsters and lots and lots of little gribbly horrors. The ultimate goal is to eat all of the biomass on the planet, send it all up to the hive fleet, and move on.

The key word for the Tyranids is ‘adaptability’. They’re constantly absorbing genetic information from whatever they eat, and using it to engineer new bioforms for their campaigns. Get too used to using a particular poison on the swarms, and they’ll hit you with a wave of monsters who’re immune to that poison. The creativity of the hive fleet is wild and horrifying. Tyranids have a lot of biological guns that shoot smaller angry Tyranids.

The biggest problem with the Tyranids is that there’s so damn many of them. On the battlefield, they throw endless waves of little guys at the enemy, caring nothing for their lives; anything that dies will get absorbed back into the hive fleet as yet more biomass to fuel the next campaign. On a macro level, Tyranid hive fleets just keep coming. They split into little tendrils, constantly poking at the galaxy from the edges, consuming more and more worlds in their wake. And no matter how often they’re halted, more tendrils keep coming and more worlds get eaten.

If Chaos doesn’t destroy the galaxy, then the Tyranids will eat it. It’s unclear how many galaxies they’ve done this to, wiping out all life and leaving a husk of the galaxy behind. Given that they come from all directions? Some speculate that they’ve done it to all galaxies, that ours is the last light of sapient life, and that when it’s gone, the universe will just be Tyranid.

Interestingly, that’s only the second most terrifying possibility linked to the Tyranids. The scariest one? Some Imperium scholars who’ve analyzed the Tyranids’ movements think they’ve found a pattern. They think the Tyranids aren’t here as alpha predators. They think the Tyranids are fleeing from something even worse, doing what they need to survive before they flee once again.

What could possibly scare all the hive fleets so badly? And what chance does humanity have?

Master post here

#warhammer 40k #space marines #advent calendar #text heavy #lore dump #40k advent #blood angels #tyranids

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lordsofmedrengard · 4 years

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The Imperium and All Primarchs are Evil

Whenever one of Sanguinius’ many simps tell me how good he was, I point them to the extermination of the Adryantis Cluster, where the BA under Sanguinius depopulated and entire cluster of humans who rejected the Imperium, with the hollow claim that he and his Legion would weep for them as they exterminated them.

#30k #40k #warhammer #warhammer 40k #horus heresy #great crusade #space marines #space marine legion #blood angels #sanguinius #primarch #baal #imperium of man

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blogofthegloriousmongoose · 5 years

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Children of Seth: Vengeful Dead

(So this is the first chapter of a story I’m writing for one of the homebrew space marine chapters I’ve made, please let me know what you think, any criticisms are appreciated as I was hoping to submit this to GW. Also annoyingly Tumblr hates my formatting)

“Fear not what we must do, for you are the glory of the Imperium and you shall rise again to fulfil mankind’s manifest destiny of ruling this galaxy. There are great deeds that remain undone, enemies yet to conquer and raptures yet to rejoice in. So, as it is written, so shall it be done. The Imperishable, has proclaimed it - let none dare oppose his will!” - Children of Seth rite of initiation

Chapter 1

Lucky

Skin Breakers

The Angel calls

The Angel calls. That simple phrase, had echoed through the dreams of the scions of Sanguinius for months, bringing with it feelings of pain, of temptation and finally of the Great Angel himself, his noble, statuesque features contorted in unimaginable pain and regret, bloody tears pouring from his eyes as he lay on a desolate field of bones. The Angel calls. It had been this maddening cry that had brought the offspring of the Lord of the IX legion to their ancestral homeworld, blanketing the skies of Baal with a vast kaleidoscopic menagerie of ships; battle-barges and strike cruisers, all cast of the colours of Blood Angel's successors.

It was into this vast assembly that the battle-barge Setehk; flagship of the Children of Seth slipped from the warp, great purple coils of empyric energy sloughing away from the form of the vast obsidian and crimson plated battleship. Bristling with lances, macrocannons and innumerable torpedo bays which, when combined with the great rents and scorch marks from the recent Nehkar campaign, gave the battle-barge an aura of predatory savagery as it gently drifting through the cold void towards Baal.

The observatory of the Setehk was silent, save the soft droning hum of the gellar field, as it slowly receded with the transition into real-space, the tense static charge that filled the battle-barge during the in-warp transit gently died away. Rahma Anubian, Chapter Master of the Children of Seth and Herald of the Storm stood in the centre of room, his jackal-faced helmet was mag-locked to the side of his power armour; allowing him to inhale the dry, calming smell of the ceremonial incense that poured from openings in the hieroglyph-emblazoned sandstone chamber. His eyes, ambered by the blight that cursed all scions of Angel stared intently at desolate, sandy form of Baal Primus. Though it had been a century since the world had been scoured clean and left as a barren featureless husk Rahma could still feel the burning skull-forged mark of Ka'bandha, as if the daemon's infernal sigil still loomed large on the world's greatest plateau. The memories of Baal's devastation still haunted him, the almost infectious fury of the Knights of Blood, the ravenous mass of xenos descending on the surviving astartes.

The great chittering horde of tyranids seemed to be everywhere, bladed chitinous limbs lashed out from every direction, each scythe-limb attempted to carve through Rahma's relic armour. With each swing of his ancient lightning claw and khopesh the chapter master ripped through innumerable screeching monsters, each bloody tear sending a thrill of furious joy through the Herald of the Storm, the desire to gorge on the flesh and blood of the xenos singing through his mind, the red thirst's savage bloodlust burning through his will, he felt his voice rising; a mad, hungry roar began tearing its way from his throat. One hormagaunt, its repulsive, needle-fanged maw dripping with toxin filled drool lunged out from the great mass, its bladed limb slicing into Rahma's left pauldron, carving into the ceramite with high-pitched shriek, whirling around, the hateful snarl his face was set into was hidden by the cold glare of the jackal-helmet Anubian gave a maddening howl; bringing down his lightning claw, shredding the alien's skull and charring it into a wad of stinking meat. As the delirium of the red thirst overwhelmed him he became aware of a voice, ragged and straining; it was Ahmes, chief librarian of the Children of Seth carving his way through the chattering horde towards Rahma, his scar riddled face contorted with hatred as he waded towards his chapter master, the blade of his sickle-headed staff was ablaze, searing through the ravenous tyranids. As he reached Rahma he impaled a hormagaunt before vomiting forth a great kaleidoscopic inferno into the onrushing horde. With this infinitesimal moment of calm Ahmes turned to his chapter master, he desperately howled at him 'MY LORD! WE HAVE TO FALL BA-' The mind-shattering cacophony of the desperate battle was suddenly torn asunder by a vast bellow of hatred, fed by a hunger for bloody revenge cultivated over the millennia. A huge, muscle-bound form, covered in crimson blood-toned skin rose above the disgusting, insectile xenos, immense bat-like wings spreading as it stood, the ground around it burning with unholy fire. Clad in infernal brass armour, blackened by uncountable wars and wielding a terrible barbed whip and an immense double-headed axe that, even whilst bafflingly clean seemed to gush blood from its twin-blades the abomination rose; it was Ka'Bandha, eternal nemesis of the scions of Sanguinius. As he gazed at his gene-line's greatest, most murderously persistent foe Rahma felt the blood-crazed rage of the red thirst begin to finally overwhelm his mind, felt his head pound, his brain throb agonisingly as through his skull was too small, it blinded him with frenzied madness, each murderous pulse of his synapses flooding him with the urge wallow in the steaming gore of the freshly killed. With a strained, pain-filled twitch Rahma began lurching towards the crimson-skinned daemon, a murderous bellow of rage rising again in his throat. As he began hacking his way towards Ka'bandha and the bloodletters that were ripping their way into reality around him, as he slowly staggered towards the greater daemon his consciousness faded into a bloody-haze.

'You were lucky Ahmes was able to save you my lord.’ The voice jolted Rahma from his reverie, internally cursing himself he turned to see Chike approaching. Even though he was fully clad in his ancient, hieroglyph-covered ceremonial armour the commander of the Ushabti was practically silent, each step soundless as the crocodile-faced helmet seemed to grin darkly as he stared at him. His face set into a cold stare Rahma cocked an eyebrow attempting to exude an aura of polite disinterest as the captain of his guard drew up beside him. ‘Oh, what pray tell did I need saving from?’ Mentally Rahma flinched, even to himself he sounded angry and childishly petulant. Even though he was helmeted Rahma could feel the gentle sadness radiating from Chike. When he finally spoke the captain of the Ushabti’s voice was laced with dejection ‘Rahma, the Thirst nearly took you-’ he gestured to his chapter master's once brown, now stark amber eyes 'If it wasn't for Ahmes-' ‘I was in control.’ Rahma’s cold monotone cut through Chike's admonishment, though his face was blank the barely concealed anger in his voice was obvious, eyes burning with frustration. With a guttural snarl from this back of his throat the captain of the Ushabti removed the sneering helmet, the scars on his face contorted into an irritated grimace, Chike’s voice was brimming with exasperation ‘That shit might satisfy the others Rahma but I know you. You can’t even look at the Flensing Storm. Every time you’re near that damn thing you shrink away!’ Rahma winced. The moment Chike had mentioned the Flensing Storm the Lord of Atum could feel the ancient khopesh’s presence, it seemed to burn into the back of his head, somehow he felt it watching him, as though the chapter masters of old; Djoser, Khufu...even the First One each one watched and judged him for his weakness. Reflexively, as though to turn their gaze away Rahma gripped the scarab marked pommel of the axe at his side, his mouth twisting in a slight snarl, the strain in his voice was as thick as a sheet of ice ‘Were it anyone else: Imhotep, Aharon, were it any of them that talked to me like that they would be returning to Ahm Shere-‘ he paused for a moment, a frigid smile spreading across his face ‘-and not necessarily alive.’ For a moment the commander of the Ushabti smirked before glancing at the stand that the Flensing Storm rested on, his eyes fixed on the ancient relic ‘Your terrible jokes aren’t going to distract from what happened Rahma-.’ a great shadow passed over the observatory, the two astartes glanced up. An immense battle-barge, it’s colours the inverse of the Setehk, it’s symbol a brutal serrated saw blade centred with a crimson blood drop: it was the Victus, the flagship of the Flesh Tearers; their brutal progenitors. Chike, his voice soft with awe was barely a murmur ‘-but...that might.’

The Angel calls. The Angel calls. The Angel calls.

Despite the buzz of activity on the bridge of the Victus those were the only words Gabriel Seth could hear, shipmaster Berkan was speaking at him, his mouth was moving and presumably words were coming out, but Seth couldn’t hear them. All he could hear was that damned cry. The Angel calls. He ran a plated hand over his bald scalp, scratching the freshest scar; a trio of great clawed rips, running from temple to cheek. The tyranid beast that given him those scars didn’t last long after it brought itself to his attention. The Guardian of Rage smirked at the memory. The insectile beast had screeched out a challenge to him, it’s eyes shined hungrily, murderously. He’d torn off its jaw and beaten its skull in- The Angel calls.

The Lord of Cretacia ground his teeth angrily, the cry intruded on everything nowadays, it set him edge, inflamed the thirst, stoked the rage. A voice pierced the irritable malaise settling over Gabriel, wrenching him back to reality; it was Raik, one of Guilliman's monsters, though he wore the colours of Nassir Amit and bore the gene-seed of Sanguinius, to the chapter master of the Flesh Tearers he was an abomination, simply seeing him set Seth's blood boiling '-Ante is convening the council at Angel's Fall. What is your command?' Snapping back to attention Seth's face twisted slightly into a bizarre snarl-smile 'What do you want Raik?' the primaris looked confused for a moment, though obviously disconcerted the lieutenant's voice remained clipped and professional 'We have been hailed my liege, Lord Commander Dante wishes us to convene at Angel's Fall, before the council. We are to meet him and Lord Rahma Anubian of the Children of Seth.' At the mention of the Atumians Gabriel Seth groaned, he knew the reason why Dante had requested this meeting; he knew their name and the planet's veneration of him embarrassed him, he'd been actively avoiding serving alongside them of late and Dante knew it. 'Lord Seth?' Raik's voice again snapped him back to his surroundings 'Fine. Hail the Setehk, let them know.' whirling around, the Guardian of Rage strode from the bridge of the Victus, the conflicting mixture of irritation and amusement obvious on his face at the thought of dealing with the chapter that venerated him so. As he stalked down the corridor several Flesh Tearers, real Flesh Tearers Seth bitterly thought to himself, greeted him, each one nodding with a short grunt, their voices harsh and stunted with the accent grown from the proto-language developing on Cretacia. The Angel calls. The Angel calls. The Angel calls. The cry was back, Seth needed a distraction.

The training hall was a cacophony of bellows and metallic clangs, oil, blood and the occasional scrap of torn replicae-flesh where a battle-brother had been too overzealous against their training servitor. Gazing at the sparring cages vaguely Seth gestured over a pair of pale, emaciated serfs, holding his armoured gauntlet out to them. As with all menials of the Flesh Tearers these two moved in a nervous, flightly manner, seemingly trying to take up as little room as possible, learned over many years of witnessing the results of the volatile blood-fury that every Son of Cretatia wrestled with, as they shakily began to slowly remove his armour Seth turned for a moment and gazed at the shivering bondsman, as the emaciated man clutched his gauntlet he remembered the first time he had seen a serf, that swift pang of pity and confusion he had felt, even as the conditioning did it’s sacred work on his mind he had wondered; how could a man become so wretched? Carnarvon had answered that question, seeing the sympathetic look that had briefly flashed across his future Chapter Master’s face. ‘Boy, what is the first edict of Cretacia?’ His voice had been gravelly and brutal; like a molten avalanche. Sympathy breeds weakness, weakness breeds death.

‘Back again Gabriel? What is it this time? The Angel or the Skin Breakers?’ Snapping out of his reverie Seth saw a serf bowed in-front of him, holding out a practice axe and sword, his fellows shuffled about behind him each man assembled the power armour onto the holding wrack, turning to the source of the voice he saw Captain Thear, fresh from the training cages, the mass of scar-tissue that was his body slick with sweat and blood, behind him limped the Chief Librarian Shei, his face set grin and his hands apparently a few fingers lighter, with a smirk at the use of the taunting moniker Thear himself had first given to the primaris on Baal, Seth snatched the weapons offered by the bowing serfs and strode over to the two, idly spinning the axe in one hand, when he spoke his voice was dripping with a caustic dryness, his eyes alight with amusement ‘I would’ve thought that you’d address your Lord with more respect Thear, after all was it not me who dropped you on your arse five days ago?’ there was a short clashing of steel as axe-head and sword blade knocked together in greeting, the two astartes nodded and smiled before Seth turned to the still panting, slightly hunched Shei ‘You appear to be missing a few fingers there Librarian, are the cages of the Victus too much for you now? Too much time with the Sun Serpents?’. With a breathy snort Shei straightened up, his chest still rapidly rising and falling ‘Just felt like letting this soft one think he’s an actual warrior for once. Anyway, you avoided the question, Skin Breakers-‘ some of the mirth leaked from his voice ‘-or the Angel?’ Seth’s smile slipped slightly ‘Both, and Lord Dante...he wishes us to arrive ahead of the rest-‘ Thear raised an eyebrow and again his crudely harsh voice was thick with sarcasm ‘Oh, such horror!’ With a slight raising of his eyebrow’s Seth continued ‘-along with the Atumians.’ Thear and Shei smirked even more; they had been on Atum when it had first rebelled, when the Children of Seth were first conceived of, when the name had been chosen for them, Shei’s voice, still thick with exhaustion was dripping with faux-confusion ‘I thought you wanted us remembered Gabriel? For the Flesh Tearers to be bound into history? What better way to be remembered than having an entire chapter named in your honour?’ there was a brief grimace from Seth at this ‘Because they treat me like I’m a Primarch.’ That set Thear off into a gutturally brutal fit of howling laughter, Shei simply shook his head and grinned, as with every Flesh Tearer it was a predatory thing and promised violence ‘You’re far too hard on the young ones. They have the fire of Cretacia and Amit in their hearts.’ The image of a howling Rahma Anubian flashed through Seth’s mind, his jackal-headed helmet discarded, his face pulled into a vicious rictus-snarl of hatred, his ambered eyes swimming with mindless blood-hunger ‘Sometimes I wonder; do they have too much of the fire?’

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warsofasoiaf · 6 years

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Next primarch question. This time, it's the fabulous golden hawk boy himself, the conflicted Imperator Regis of Imperium Secundus. What have you to say about Sanguinius?

becauseforoncethisisme said: I don’t even read or know anything about W40K but I’m dying of curiosity about Sanguinius because you offhandedly mentioned that he was attacked by radioactive cannibals and I was all wait WHAT now?

The Great Angel. The Bright One. The Son Too Good for This Sinful Galaxy. Sanguinius was, by Horus’s estimation, all of the Emperor’s qualities rolled into a single being, and the better choice for Warmaster. In the modern galaxy, Sanguinius is the martyr who saved the Imperium at the cost of his life. He put the chink in Horus’s armor that the Emperor used to obliterate the Arch-Traitor. What can be said about him that hasn’t been said already? Quite a lot, actually. Sanguinius in the Horus Heresy novels shows a rich, deeply-conflicted character. One of the gentlest souls, yet one of great power when roused, and ultimately, saved through faith in his sons.

Sanguinius rose on the irradiated Baal Secundus, guided by a tribe known as the Blood. Radiation tainted the planet, and the people of Baal lived in the ruins of a planet once great during the Dark Age of Technology, hunted by packs of mutant cannibals. Sanguinius himself was not spared mutation, upon emerging from his pod he had a pair of small wings on his shoulder. This nearly ended him, the Blood understood that mutation was danger and death, yet the mercy of the people won out, the infant himself bore no other abnormality. This would change quickly, he grew at a rapid pace and quickly became the hero that the Baalites needed. At a year old, he was a young adult, and he could do everything that his people required, and those tiny cupid wings became a majestic wingspan capable of bearing him aloft, inspiring his people.

Yet it was not just his mighty wingspan, Sanguinius was a fearsome warrior. When attacked by a pack of mutants, Sanguinius slew them in a terrifying rage, so spurred on was he by the danger his friends were in. This marked one of Sanguinius’s most notable dichotomies: brave and calm in the face of personal danger, driven to acts of terrifying strength and fury when those he cared for were threatened. This was the mark of Sanguinius, and one of his greatest strengths and flaws. He was capable of dramatic, amazing action in defense of those he wished to defend, but that instinct could lead him to make rash decisions as well. Also key to Sanguinius were his visions. Like Konrad Curze, Sanguinius was tormented by visions of the future, especially his own grim death. Yet where Curze succumbed to fatalism, Sanguinius bore the grim fate with noble bearing.

Under his leadership, the Baalites no longer were wandering tribes clinging for survival in a blighted hellscape, but a united force of humanity, clearing vast stretches of territory to gain a chance at a true civilization, and the people flocked to his banner. As evidence of that, the people built an amphitheater on Mount Seraph, and there Sanguinius gave a speech to his people, at the culmination of which, the Emperor showed himself among the audience, beaming with pride at his son. Sanguinius swore allegiance immediately, likely due to his psychic visions giving him portents of the future which would include his father. Soon, he was ready, at the head of the Ninth Legion: The Blood Angels. Many of his brothers loved Sanguinius, and he found ways to bond with each. He shared Fulgrim’s love of art, he liked Jaghatai’s study of the Warp, he bonded with Russ’s controlled fury. He could talk to Guilliman about state-building and Dorn about duty. Though above it all, Sanguinius was closest to Horus, both were effective commanders, both looked to surgical strikes, both were amazing warriors. When Horus became Warmaster, Sanguinius heartily supported his brother, and swore to provide him all the aid he could.

Much like Sanguinius himself, the Blood Angels specialized in aerial assault and close combat. They take on high-risk, high-reward missions to secure strategic points and eliminate key enemy figures. The Angel used his wings, his gene-sons would use their jump packs, and always exposed themselves to the riskiest part of the battle, as Sanguinius never was one to shirk danger due to fear. The Blood Angels also harbored a terrifying secret, they shared part of Sanguinius’s terrible fury. Known as the Red Thirst, it was a gradual decline of faculty and control, growing thirstier and thirstier for blood until reason began to fail them, restraint became ineffective, and the Blood Angel would drink deep of the fallen’s blood. Sanguinius was horrified, and kept the flaw a secret from his brothers and father. He feared his father purging the Blood Angels, he feared the lost standing in the eyes of his brothers, and he labored to find a cure. Few learned the truth, Horus being one, who swore to keep his brother’s secret.

Yet this secret, and the love and trust Sanguinius had with his brother Horus, would plant the seeds of ruin. After his corruption, Horus would send Sanguinius to Signus Prime, using the hint of a possible cure or method to control the gene-flaw to properly motivate Sanguinius, as well as isolate his legion from seeking any fellow Astartes support (even though Horus knew Sanguinius did not suspect his treachery, he was almost always methodical in his planning as befits a Warmaster). Horus set Sanguinius into a trap, using the denizens of the Warp to push the Blood Angels beyond their limits. The two Chaos leaders differed over the plan. One idea was to corrupt Sanguinius, with the Keeper of Secret Kyriss the Perverse, the other was to kill him with Bloodthirster Ka’Bandha, an idea shared by Horus who secretly feared being surpassed by Sanguinius and eclipsed and forgotten (the feat that helped push him in the first place). Meeting the latter first, Sanguinius dueled the Bloodthirster, who crushed the Angel’s legs and used his inability to move to slaughter hundreds of Blood Angels, mocking the hero as the psychic pain of losing his gene-sons overwhelmed his mind, and the rage began to overwhelm his sons. Yet thanks to his Librarians, Sanguinius was revived, and charged back into the fray, impaling Kyriss and tearing Ka’Bandha’s wings off and kicking him into a pit. Kyriss then showed his plan, offering the ragefire to Sanguinius, to take in the rage of his sons and save them from it, at the cost of himself. This was carefully crafted to appeal to Sanguinius. Ka’Bandha used the link between Sanguinius and his sons to knock him out, but Kyriss used the love he had to corrupt him. Much like with Tzeentch and Magnus, Chaos needled its way to strike where it hurt the most, but Mero stopped Sanguinius by taking a third option, sacrificing himself instead so that Sanguinius could slay the Keeper of Secrets and save the Blood Angels. This would be a running theme in the Blood Angels: sacrifice.

When Sanguinius reached the 500 Worlds, it was completely by accident, the Warp wrecking havoc and the Pharos Beacon illuminating Ultramar. Yet despite the accidental arrival, it fit directly into Guilliman’s plans, to make him the Emperor of Imperium Secundus to pre-emptively end any leadership conflict with the Lion. Yet Sanguinius made sure to divide his power, entrusting Guilliman with the state-building and the Lion with the defense, building themselves into a power that could match the Traitor Legions in unity until such time that Terra and their father could be confirmed. Here, he showed his leadership, holding himself to the high standards he held his brothers and tormented by the visions of his death and the reality of the situation upon Ultramar. When the Lion returned to claim Curze and deliver the truth, to Sanguinius’s eternal credit, he ceded Imperium Secundus immediately, and looked to redeem himself for any perceived treason and meet his destiny.

The Warp would surely test him. His visions of his death made him wonder about the nature of Fate, and the path through the Ruinstorm showed him the stakes of the galaxy should Chaos win and existence be tainted. The path through the Ruinstorm was the 40K equivalent of Jesus going to the desert, where the whispers of Satan became the whispers of Madail the Undivided, Daemon and Preacher of Chaos Undivided, who had come with one goal: convert Sanguinius into the Angel of Ruin that would bring about Chaos’s final victory. Here, Sanguinius was presented with the ultimate decision between two terrible choices, his destiny was not set in stone. He could slay Horus at the last minute, but end up being a greater champion of Chaos than Horus, or he could accept his fate and the psychic pain would curse his sons with the Black Rage, the second of the two terrible flaws of the Blood Angels. From a literature perspective, this is a masterfully done decision, to present a character with two absolutely unacceptable options to illuminate more about them, to show what they are in adversity.

“Because as long as one single Blood Angel lives, he will be the master of his spirit. He will not let the abyss that lies in the hearts of us all take him into darkness. That is the truth you did not understand, the truth that Horus has forgotten. It is not the descent toward the shadow nor the rise toward the light that makes us superior. It is the endless struggle between the two that greatness of character lies. We are tested, and we do not break. We will never fall!”

His choice speaks to his character, a man of unyielding faith, not in himself, but in his sons. It was his victory in Fear to Tread and comes back in Ruinstorm. His choice gives his sons the Black Rage, but he believes in the spirit of the Blood Angels, that they will take the darkness and endure it, to become the greatest that they can. This is the promise of the Astartes, to take on the dangers that which only they, in their gene-crafted bodies, can handle to protect humanity. And when Madail attempts to pin him, it is his gene-sons who come to his aid again, with Alatron pinning him in place and birthing the Warp-entity as the Sanguinor, the literal embodiment of the brotherhood and sacrifice of the Blood Angels into an actual entity that comes in the time of their greatest need. Yet even the mighty Sanguinius had his limits, and Konrad Curze finally broke them with all his rampant torture and murder. He shows Konrad that there might have been a way to avoid his fate, before sealing him in a Stasis Coffin and sending him off, saying that even if his father forgave him, Sanguinius himself could not and because of his own actions, Curze would never even be given the chance to achieve it. Thus, he would drift in that coffin until his own prophecized end. That one-two punch, that all of Curze’s awful actions could have been for nothing (since if his fate was not set in stone, then his First Great Thesis and reason for being is gone) and that he would have to drift until his end in a hell of his own making broke him. Even if the Emperor was the tyrant Curze believed, even if everything he did was vindicated, it was never always destined, and that was a stunning refutation and acceptance of destiny.

Speaking of destiny, it is no wonder then, that when the Dark Angels, Ultramarines, and Blood Angels emerge, it is the Blood Angels who are picked to stand on Terra, while Guilliman and Lion give him the cover he needs. They understand the journey and have accepted the destiny of their brother, just as they worked together in the Warp, their brotherly bond allowing them to reach their brother in a way that their gene-sons couldn’t match (the Warp is metaphorical like that). When Sanguinius stood on Terra with Dorn and the Khan, he knew his fate, but still fought to defend humanity, to give time for his brothers to arrive, for the golden future that his father promised even though he knew he would never see it. When the Emperor said that it was time to go to the Vengeful Spirit, it was the tolling of the bell that Sanguinius accepted. He was at peace with his fate, and though he would go down fighting, he still did what he was as Sanguinius. He offered his brother mercy, and when it was refused, he offered him his blade. And when Horus broke his back over his knee, his destiny was fulfilled at last, the visions he saw since his birth coming full circle.

He went into his doom willingly to save as much of the Imperium as he could, and he sent that light down through his gene-sons, his brothers, and the example he set in life and death. He was a deeply complex man, a man who nearly was pushed to his ruin more than once, yet stabilized himself by remembering his humility and humanity. He gave it everything he had and handled his death with a rare dignity, leaving the galaxy with a legacy of a hero.

Thanks for the question, For Once and Calagon.

SomethingLikeALawyer, Hand of the King

#warhammer 40k #sanguinius #the primarchs

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petepaintswarhammer · 6 years

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Fire Raptors are undercosted??? Pt V

So last night was a complete reversal of fortunes. I was playing against a Blood Angel player. I finished deploying first and my opponent wasn’t able to seize the initiative. Turn 1 I did the usual. Dreadnoughts advanced up the wings covering Bjorn in the middle. I kept two tactical squads back in my lines holding the objective markers in my deployment zone, as I had pulled a card requiring me to hold one of them. The third squad went “on the hunt” ready to pounce where called for as required. Finally the Raptor screamed up the table to threaten his devastators and Baal predator. Firing started off with Bjorn focussing his frost beam and punching a hole straight through the Baal for 6 wounds! Good start old man! The Raptor then opened up with its missile salvo, I like to think they found the hole Bjorn had made with three missiles which detonated internally causing 9 damage. “Get off my lawn!” Bjorn probably didn’t shout. The nose guns and one of the heavy bolter pods opened up into the devastators only killing 3 of them while his brother on the other side cut down 4 tactical marines taking cover in a crater.

Not bad I thought, could have been better but a good start, that’s when the whistling started as a host of warriors clad in blood red armour descended from the skies. A melta shot ripped through the Raptor taking 6 wounds with it while around it bolter shells ripped the cockpit and the pilot within to shreds. It hit the ground rupturing the fuel tanks and igniting the ammo stores causing 2 mortal wounds to a venerable dreadnought… Ouch.

In defiance Bjorn moved up the field and poured promethium into the tacticals in the crater killing all but one. He opened the aperture on the frost cannon dispersing the beam as he targeted the squad of Inceptors as they touched down. He wounded one but failed to kill any of them. The Venerable dreadnought barged the remains of the Fire Raptor aside and attempted to charge the Assault Squad that had landed just in front of him. A bellow emitted from its voxcaster but was cut short when it stumbled on the wreckage and failed to make the charge. Bjorn, equally, failed to make it into combat with these new foes.

As the Blood Angels regrouped from their decent. The Assault squad surrounded the wreckage of the Raptor and the Venerable within, readying their thunder hammers. Massed firepower rained down on Bjorn and the Venerable dreadnought, tearing chunks from their armour. The assault terminators charged in and hammered the venerable into submission.

Bellowing his anger at seeing one of his brother fall, Bjorn moved up and flamed the enemy warlord. He charged the enemy Captain striking true but the Emperor was obviously watching this Blood Angel Captain, remembering Sanguinius’ sacrifice, as he made ALL of his invulnerable saves. The captain then cut Bjorn down with his relic blade. Ooof!

From there it was the Angels game to lose as they moped up the rest of my forces.

Game ended with me being tabled turn 5!

The raptor clearly did not make the difference it usually did. Some very bad luck in failing two vital charges, even with a re-roll, didn’t help. I also drew a poor hand of objective cards. In this mission you draw 6 and keep them secret from your opponent. I drew secure objective 1, easy, I had troops on it from turn 1. Big game hunter, “easy”(?) kill the Baal which again I managed in turn 1. The remaining cards required me to secure and hold two of the objectives in my opponents deployment zone as well as secure EVERY objective marker on the board. The final card drawn was Priority Orders Received, the card Bjorn drew for that required him to harness the warp… After a brief discussion I was allowed to redraw, now Bjorn had to make it across the table and secure objective 4 in the Blood Angels deployment zone. I actually thought I was going to get that right up until the Blood Angels Captain made all 4 of his invulnerable saves… By all odds Bjorn should have minced the Captain and would then have consolidated onto objective 4. Ah, well…

It was a great game against a very canny opponent. He played the hell out of his Angels, that “The Red Thirst” for +1 to wound is amazing on assault troops… I cannot wait for the Space Wolf codex to come out. Now the waiting game to see how I scored over all. I think I’ll need a couple of sportsmanship votes to secure a win and with the list I brought… I can’t see myself getting many of those from my opponents… Results are out on Saturday 10th of February. I’ll post to let you know where I came when the dust settles.

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ask-valerian-40k · 7 years

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Chapter Twenty-Four Paradise Lost Piles of broken wings were heaped high like bizarre leaves from stone trees. The Walk of Angels had become a walk of death, and all its lofty heroes cast down from their plinths. Gunfire riddled the podiums of the fallen statues, blasting apart stone brought from faraway worlds to grace the Arx Angelicum. Beauty had made her home there since the dawn of the Imperium, but she was driven out. The Arx Angelicum burned. On every level of the towering fortress war raged. The tyranid aerial swarm, free to act once the void shield was down, beat back the defenders from the stepped outer galleries of the Arx Murus. Section by section, guns fell silent, and tyranid ground organisms were brought to bear. Carnifexes battered at the fortress’ gates. Lithe-limbed genestealers climbed mirror-sheened walls. Haruspexes vomited cargoes of smaller beasts onto parapets manned only by corpses in power armour. Shortly after the void shield fell, the Dome of Angels shattered. Weakened by acidic drool and weapons effusions, the transparisteel gave out under a bombardment spat out by convulsing weapons-tracts of the ships in orbit. There were too few Space Marines vessels left to prevent this. The war in space mirrored that upon the ground; the united front of the sons of Sanguinius was broken into myriad small actions. Seeing the weakness in cohesion between the Chapters, the hive mind had driven them apart, and was eliminating them one by one. What reports made it to the strategium through the tyranid denial broadcasts spoke of Chapters shattered and battle-barges destroyed. The Invictrix, flagship of the Charnel Guard, was downed over Baal Secundus, the scattered remains of its hull burned in the Great Salt Wastes of Dante’s birth. The Flesh Tearers Victus had broken flight and had not emerged from the far side of Baal Primus. All told a dozen battle-barges were verified destroyed, ten more were missing, presumed lost. Hundreds of other craft were gone. The entirety of the Golden Sons warfleet, whose auric vessels had patrolled the northern reaches of the galaxy since the 38th millennium, were shattered into gold-rich fragments orbiting Baal’s outer worlds. Their fabled librarius was lost to the void. Their serfs were consumed by the hive mind, their battle-brothers reduced to a handful of scattered survivors. The Angels Excelsis had died in flames. The Scions of Sanguinius were down to a sole battle cruiser limping away from the conflict. So it went on. Mortis mark after mortis mark came in, not the single runes that denoted the loss of a battle-brother, but rare and terrible symbols that spoke of the deaths of companies and of Chapters. The Angels Glorious, the Burning Blood, the Brothers of Jarad, wiped out without a sole survivor. The situation on Baal was little better. And as Dante’s soul shook with each instance of dreadful news, so the Arx Angelicum rocked to the pounding of bio-artillery and ram-beasts hurled to their deaths from high orbit. The time for tight cooperation between the Chapters was over, ended far more quickly than Dante had feared possible. The dwindling warriors defending the Arx against the swarms fell back on what they knew; fighting by Chapter, company and squad, until massive casualties rendered even these modest groupings irrelevant, and too often warriors found themselves alone to face the foe and the thirst before the end. Like hive world gangs, bands of survivors carved out territories to defend within the fortress monastery. In the Heavenward Redoubt a semblance of order remained, but outside the keep of the Arx the sons of the Great Angel were forced back corridor by corridor. No matter how many of the enemy they slew, there were always more, and so they were worn down, isolated and ultimately destroyed. Although he was among the greatest military minds of his age, Dante could formulate no strategy against such attritional murder. Had the void shield not fallen the Chapters of the Blood might have persisted and eventually triumphed. It had been done before, on Macragge, but the Behemoth had been a modest shoaling compared to the Leviathan, and the void shield was gone. Dante fought where he could not command. He vented his frustration personally, axe to flesh, against the beasts that would shatter his legacy. Hubris had damned him. He had fallen for the lies of his own legend. Behemoth had been driven back. Surely he, Dante, could do the same with Leviathan? The tyranids were closing on the redoubt’s gates. If the keep were to fall, the fight would be over. Strike teams fought on multiple levels, attempting to seal the ways up to the nerve centre of the Arx. He had awarded himself the most onerous sector as penance.

The Devastation of Baal, by Guy Haley

This is perhaps the best chapter opening in the book; and one of the best passages I have read in a BL novel; awesome

also sad Dante makes me sad

#the devastation of baal #Khayon reads a novel

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