Samus_aran115 wrote:Actually, as far as chaos marines go, the sons are rather inactive. They have nothing to do except follow ahriman around while he plunders the eldar for knowledge
Also, no. Rubric marines are far superior for all of the son's needs. The sorcerers essentially control the marines' every move. Actual astartes are too big of a risk. They might not obey the sorcerers, and they lack the ability to cast spells, which is useless.
And to your Gene-Seed comment. Never thought of it that way! It's certainly possible that they'd have ways of creating new gene seeds. Beyond that, it's possible they would no longer need gene seeds, and that sorcerers could possibly just transform people into marines.
Actually that would be dumb to just turn anyone into a marine, but yes, they could recruit regular humans with psychic potential, train them, and transform them into astartes.
All of which reminds more of some pretty good fan fic posted to the YahooGroups
40k-Chaos-list by Brad Hann several years ago... Apologies for the length, but I always thought it was a great bit o' writing for what it was... And, of course, if Brad wants it taken down, I'll do so immediately...
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Immortality.
Annicus stood naked in front of the Sorcerers, along with the eight
other remaining aspirants who had been selected from the massed ranks
of cultists on the Planet of the Sorcerers. This was the final test.
If he passed, he would become one with the Sorcerers of the Thousand
Sons, learning the ways of power. If he failed... well, nine thralls
remained of the scores who had been chosen. The rest were dead, and
Annicus knew that to be the standard price of failure.
Those who failed would never achieve Immortality.
He had withstood the agonising rituals which implanted the unholy
geneseed of the Thousand Sons within his body, and survived the years
of training which had claimed so many lesser men. Annicus felt
nothing but contempt for those who had failed. They obviously did not
believe in the power of Lord Tzeentch, and He had punished them
suitably. Their souls now writhed in eternal torment under His baleful stare.
Nine remained. Lord Tzeentch's sacred number. A good omen, Annicus
thought. They stood in a line in a great domed chamber. The Serpent
rune adorned the walls, and pink and blue fire blazed in great brass
braziers, casting flickering illumination through the hall. Inanimate
suits of baroque powered armour - the warrior class of the Thousand
Sons - stood at immobile attention, mindlessly awaiting the commands
of their masters. Those same masters, high ranking Sorcerers, stood
at strategic places around the chamber; their low chanting filling
Annicus' soul with delight and a little trepidation. Soon Annicus
would stand among them, destroying the servants of the False Emperor
with the power of his mind, uncovering the secrets of the universe.
Immortality was within his grasp.
The nine were called forth. Ornate suits of blue and yellow armour
lay before them. Unaided, the nine began to strap the armour over
their enhanced bodies. As each piece slid into place the locks which
held the suit together snapped shut, fusing the suit into a single
sheath; a second, toughened skin. Finally they were ready - clad neck
to toe in the armour, only their heads bare.
A sorcerer approached each one, and took the helmets within their
grasp. Slowly, reverently, the helmets were raised on high. Sorcerous
lightning flickered, and the chanting reached a crescendo. Then, to
the sound of a thunderclap, each helmet was lowered, slammed down
over the head of the aspirant.
Annicus gasped as the world changed. Through the helmet's eyes his
perception altered. The mundanity of the mortal world fell into dull
grey shadow, over-shadowed by the shifting swirls of astral energy
that permeated the atmosphere. Here and there was a flickering,
pulsing glow, and with a shocking insight Annicus realised that these
were the souls of those within this very room.
Immortality!
His mind floated freely, leaving the heaviness of his mortal shell
behind. Joyous, he tried to float through the hall, but was stopped
short by an invisible barrier. No, this was not the way it should
be... he tried again, moving in a different direction. Again he
struck the barrier. This was not right. Panic began to build, and he
tried to flee; but no matter which way he turned, he could not escape
the walls of his invisible cage. Lethargy seeped into his body; it
would no longer respond to his commands. It was almost as if there
was no physical shell remaining...
The suit that had once contained the body of Annicus - and now
carried but a handful of dust - stood at immobile attention, awaiting
the commands of its master. And within, the trapped soul of Annicus
gibbered and thrashed and pleaded for release from captivity.
Lord Tzeentch had granted him his wish.
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Again, NOT my writing. Just passing it on.
Valete,
JohnS