Shadowbrand wrote:I must say I liked a Thousand sons. But I don't think the Wolves were properly portrayed.

It just seems a little off a Rune Priest would condemn Thousand Son sorcerers.

And how Russ was depicted was totally different then i imagine. He didn't even give much a second thought then to annihilate his brother.

Asherian Command wrote:

The Thousand Sons were seriously one of the most noble legions, and people loved them. They were respected, and they fought things that the imperium was going to fight anyway!

Xenith wrote:

This thread boils down to the fact that space wolves are donkey-caves.

Daemon-Archon Ren wrote:To be fair, the Thousand Sons don't really have a "non-noble" aspect to them in any way (at least as supported by fluff).

necrongod wrote:so lets get this straight: there are NO wolves on fenris?

Grey Templar wrote:Terra was actually still a verdant green world at the time of the Great Crusade complete with animal life and living oceans.

then Horus bombed it

purplefood wrote:I would bomb Terra if i had been Horus... but then agin i would have ordered all my ships to ram the planet for funsies so go figure.

blazinpsycho&typhooni wrote:I'm actually having a hard time understanding the question.
So the wolves on Fenris aren't actually wolves? But descendents of colonists, but what about the actual humans on Fenris?
or is the question something else?
Maybe the wolves aren't "Wolves" as we know, but something else?
Seriously I'm lost.

Grey Templar wrote:this is more of a philosophical discussion.

blazinpsycho&typhooni wrote:

Grey Templar wrote:this is more of a philosophical discussion.

Philosophy has never been my strong point, could you explain how it is philosophical?

Index Astartes wrote:

"There were those amongst the Imperial court suspicious of the Thousand Sons' methods. Paramount amongst them was Mortarion, sepulchral lord of the Death Guard who knew too well from his own dark past that sorcerous power never came without a price. Leman Russ, Primarch of the Space Wolves, for whom any battle fought through sleight of hand and clever deceit was by definition dishonourable also lent his voice to the critics of the Thousand Sons. The schism grew so great that it threatened the very foundations of the new order, and so the Emperor of Man himself decreed a council to resolve the issue for all time.

The mightiest proponents of both sides convened on the planet Nikaea to debate, with the Emperor himself enthroned above the dais as arbiter, in an ancient amphitheatre that seated tens of thousands. There, beneath the glittering starlight, the witch hunters presented their case. They recited a litany of human misery inflicted upon the Emperor's own subjects by sorcerers enslaved by Chaotic monstrosities; of mutants unable to control what they had become, and despots who turned their psychic gifts to dark and selfish purpose. To speak against these charges came Magnus himself. He climbed the dais in silence, his own visage seeming to confirm everything the witch hunters asserted.

But when he began to speak, it was clear none of his accusers could match the charisma or presence of a Space Marines Primarch and least of all this particular Primarch's certainty of conviction. Magnus told the assembled throng that no knowledge was tainted of itself, and no pursuit of knowledge ever wrong so long as the seeker of that truth was master of what he learned. And, Magnus decreed with finality, there were no secrets the Thousand Sons had not mastered, no ways too labyrinthine for them to know. When he stepped from the dais, the council was divided more sharply than ever: the witch hunters had made their case collectively with great impact, but with insufficient power to blunt the persuasiveness of the Primarch of the Thousand Sons. The assemblage openly wondered if even the Emperor could decide against one of his own sons.

The tension had reached the palpable knife-edge of violence when a contingent of Space Marine Librarians approached the dais. The Emperor acknowledged them with a nod and all fell silent, for visible amongst the librarians were the chiefs of some of the greatest Legions in the Imperium. These mystic warriors formed a semicircle about the podium to indicate they spoke with one voice, but it was a young Epistolary who stepped forward to deliver their words. Though his identity has been lost to history, he is said to have spoken with a passion that bordered on ferocity, and offered to the assembled council a third alternative. A psyker, he proposed, like an athlete, was a gifted individual whose native talent must be carefully nurtured. Psykers were not evil in themselves. Sorcery was a knowledge that had to be sought, even bargained for, and neither man nor paragon could be certain they had the best of such bargains. The other Librarians united around him, and proposed that the education of human psykers to best serve Mankind be made an Imperial priority. The conduct of sorcery would be outlawed forevermore as an unforgivable heresy against Mankind.

The compromise presented by the Librarians offered both factions something, and appeared to be what the Emperor himself had been waiting for. The Emperor ruled it law without allowing any rebuttal, and the Edicts of Nikaea stand to this millennium as Imperial policy regarding human psychic mutation. But it was not the decision favoured by Magnus. The Grimoire Hereticus records the fateful face-to-face confrontation between father and son when the Emperor himself barred Magnus's attempt to storm from the hall in protest. He bade Magnus cease the practice of sorcery and incantation, and the pursuit of all knowledge related to magic. It is said the cyclopean Primarch's face appeared brittle as aged stone as he received his father's command. Brittle enough to crack, but the Primarch of the Thousand Sons bent his shoulder and pledged himself and his Legion to obey. Neither Emperor nor Primarch knew that this moment would be the last time they would meet, and that events had been set in motion that would climax in treachery, bloodshed and pain."

Alpharius wrote:It made a lot of sense, and it made for a better story too.

Index Astartes wrote:
Neither Emperor nor Primarch knew that this moment would be the last time they would meet,

Index Astartes wrote:

A psyker, he proposed, like an athlete, was a gifted individual whose native talent must be carefully nurtured. Psykers were not evil in themselves. Sorcery was a knowledge that had to be sought, even bargained for, and neither man nor paragon could be certain they had the best of such bargains. The other Librarians united around him, and proposed that the education of human psykers to best serve Mankind be made an Imperial priority. The conduct of sorcery would be outlawed forevermore as an unforgivable heresy against Mankind.

The compromise presented by the Librarians offered both factions something, and appeared to be what the Emperor himself had been waiting for. The Emperor ruled it law without allowing any rebuttal, and the Edicts of Nikaea stand to this millennium as Imperial policy regarding human psychic mutation.

chaos0xomega wrote:

Spoiler:

A lot of people focus on the canis helix connection to explain the "No wolves on fenris" bit, but I think thats just a smokescreen to cover for something else. The implication throughout the book is that they are warp entities. There is a point in the story where the tutelaries are "frightened" and disappear as the fenrisian wolves pass by the thousand sons. That seems to suggest something much more than humans-made-wolves to me.

Brother Heinrich wrote: however the fact remains, the thousand sons are the only legion to use bonded sentient entities from the warp in order to boost their powers.