Forum adverts like this one are shown to any user who is not logged in. Join us by filling out a tiny 3 field form and you will get your own, free, dakka user account which gives a good range of benefits to you: No adverts like this in the forums anymore. Times and dates in your local timezone. Full tracking of what you have read so you can skip to your first unread post, easily see what has changed since you last logged in, and easily see what is new at a glance. Email notifications for threads you want to watch closely. Being a part of the oldest wargaming community on the net. If you are already a member then feel free to login now.

PREFACE

Now, let's imagine that Black Library makes a huge mistake and decides to hire me to write the entire Horus Heresy series, choosing to fire writers like Dan Abnett that are infinitely better suited to the task than I am. This is the general outline for the series that I would write. Now, remember that this is just what I would do if I was improbably put in that situation. I'm not advocating for racial genocide or anything so don't get mad at me. And I'm not bragging about how much better I am than Black Library (rather, quite the opposite).

THE LOYALIST PRIMARCHS

So, here's a list of the Primarchs and how I would've written them. This list was written in no particular order. I just wrote whatever came to my head.

Reboute Guilliman, Lord of the XII Legion

Reboute always seemed kind of shady to me. When I first got into the Horus Heresy type stuff and I skimmed over his entry on Lexicanum, I noticed two things; he was building up Ultramar, not the Imperium and the only battle he fought in the Horus Heresy was the Battle of Calth, wherein the Word Bearers attacked Ultramar. Of course, this was later clarified. Reboute was a super loyal dude and he would've helped the Imperium if the Word Bearers hadn't destroyed his fleet. So I guess he wasn't shady. Personality wise, Reboute doesn't really stick out. He was a very rigid, organized man with an analytic albeit closeminded way of thinking. So, he was pretty much a blue version of Rogal Dorn that owned less tanks.

Here's how I would've tried to write him (though I would've somehow botched it up). Reboute viewed the Emperor as a man in over his head. He had looked at the Imperium from an unbiased viewpoint and realized that it was already on its way out. It was too reliant on the progress hating Mechanicum and the Astartes Legions, some of which were ruled by very temperamental (Angron), disloyal (Magnus) or unstable (Kurze) Primarchs. Furthermore, the Imperium was economically dependent on conquest. Once they ran out of new, fertile worlds to conquer what would they do? And for that matter, what would happen to the Astartes? If the Emperor truly wanted to rule over a peaceful realm, then what use would he have for highly expensive instruments of violence like Reboute?

Reboute decided to get out while he still could. He claimed the two missing Primarch's legions, taking on the burden of rehabilitating and cleansing their broken and partially treacherous remnants. This was viewed a heroic undertaking by most, though his more disgruntled brothers (Kurze and the Lion in particular) saw it with suspicion. He led his bolstered Legion, now greater in size than any other, to the most remote area of space, the Eastern Fringe, and set to work building his new empire. Hundreds of planets were terraformed and an Astartes fleet was built at a scale never seen before. This new empire, which Reboute had taken to calling 'his utopia' in private, would not fall victim to the Emperor's many mistakes. Once Ultramar was large enough, Reboute would secede from the Imperium assuming that it hadn't collapsed already.

Things didn't go according to the plan. When Horus rebelled, he sacrificed the Word Bearers Legion in a surprise attack to ensure that Ultramar wouldn't get in the way. In fact, Reboute would've just stayed out of the way and let the conflict go its course if Horus had ignored him. After the Word Bearers' attack Reboute's utopia was left in ruins. Everything he had worked for was gone and it's destruction served no purpose. His normal, cold blooded pragmatism gave way to inconsolable rage.

When the Emperor, for all intents and purposes, died, Reboute stepped in. He published the Codex Astartes, disbanding his brother's Legions and limiting them greatly so that they wouldn't be threats to his reign. Under Reboute's rule, the Imperium was dedicated to only one purpose; the eradication of the Traitor Legions. Entire solar systems were razed to satisfy his bloodlust. This event, which would later be referred to as the Scourging, cost the Imperium greatly. Some of the High Lords dissented to Reboute's course of action, claiming that he was only hastening the Imperium's downfall, but Reboute paid them little heed. Seven of the Traitor Legions were driven back to the Eye of Terror, leaving only the Night Lords and Alpha Legion lingering in Imperial space.

Reboute pursued the war against the Alpha Legion personally, going as far as to brutally murder Alpharius with his bare hands. When the Emperor's Children emerged from the Eye of Terror and launched a surprise attack on Macragge, Reboute sought out Fulgrim in single combat. The daemonically possessed Fulgrim slit Reboute's throat with a poisoned blade within the first few seconds of melee. Against his wishes, the dying Reboute was placed in a life support machine similar to his father's. He spent 10,000 years unable to move or even speak praying for death before a Tyrannic Incursion finally ended his miserable life.

Corvus Corax, Lord of the XIX Legion

Poor Corax didn't really do much. In the history of the Imperium, he'd be a footnote. Without him, things would've gone pretty similarly. The only thing that really makes Corax (otherwise known as the Raven) stand out is the lengths he was willing to go. Not even the perverted Fulgrim or insane Kurze was willing to tamper with geneseed technology. Yet, when Corax was pushed far enough, that's what he did. So that's the angle I'd write him from. He's a person who doesn't believe in half measures.

When the Chaos Gods flung the Primarchs away from Terra, Corax landed on Kiavahr, a world notable for it's adamantium. Political dissidents, convicts and workers who simply couldn't meet their quotas where used a source of free, unlimited manpower in the adamantium mines. Corax was discovered by these miners, who believed in was in fact their Messiah as a prophecy had foretold long ago. Supposedly he would deliver them from slavery and bring about a golden age of peace and prosperity to Kiavahr. They raised him to believe this, teaching him all the skills they thought a leader should know alone the way.

Instead of being taught multiplication and division, they showed him how to make pipe bombs and chlorine gas. When he should have been learning about the glorious history of mankind he was being educated as to which pressure points to jab in close combat. Corax matured quickly and soon took on the mantle of their Messiah, just as they'd hoped. The miners would've been crushed in an outright rebellion, so instead he led them on a campaign of guerrilla warfare and terrorist attacks. Along the way many civilians were slain, but he was a firm believer that the ends justified the means. In Corax's mind, nothing he did mattered as long as it for the miners, now known as his chosen people.

Kiavahr's local government eventually collapsed under the pressure. The Emperor recognized that only his son could so skillfully orchestrate a planetary scale coup with just two thousand disgruntled miners under his leadership. He soon arrived at Kiavahr, now ruled singlehandedly by Corax, and offered the Raven his rightful place at his side as the Primarch of the XIX Legion. Corax initially declined, refusing to leave his chosen people and his role as their Messiah. Over a full day and night of quarreling, the Emperor convinced him that the Prophecy spoke of a much grander scale than the miners thought. Rather than just referring to the miners it was about the entirety of the human race. Their oppressors, which Corax was destined to deliver them from, weren't a corrupt planetary government but rather the endless hordes of Xenos assailing mankind.

Corax took his position more seriously than perhaps any other Primarch. He was relentless in his duties, viewing humor and friends as a distraction. When Horus turned his back from the Emperor Corax simply viewed the Traitor Legions as more oppressors to eliminate. On Isstvan V, when his Legion was decimated and he witnessed the full extent of the treachery, he became more resolved than ever before. He needed to muster an army, but standard Space Marines took far too long to mature and train.

Through indepth research, he found that the Emperor had built the geneseed with quite a few limitations on the speed of growth and the extent to which the Astartes could grow. Tampering with the Emperor's perfect geneseed was the worst of all crimes, one that was truly irredeemable. Even if it worked, the Emperor would no doubt have him executed and his Legion purged after Horus was dealt with.

No half measures.

Corax removed every genetic limitation he came across and set to work implementing this improved geneseed on a massive scale. The adolescents implanted with it grew at horrific rates, quadrupling in height and weight within days. They became hideous creatures of raw musculature held together by frames of bioenhanced bone, constantly wracked by pain. For reasons unknown, Corax referred to these creatures as the Spire Guard. On the battlefield the Spire Guard were unstoppable, tearing through ranks of Astartes with ease. Unfortunately, their bodies were incapable of handling their newfound power. Most Spire Guard plunged into seizures and died within days of their transformation.

The solution Corax found to this was to simply create more Spire Guard. Soon his Legion was abducting entire populations of adolescent males from Imperial planets. He found it a logistical nightmare to replace Spire Guard as quickly as they died, but he somehow managed to do it anyways. He was perhaps the only Primarch who stood a chance against the Traitor Legions now. Corax couldn't back down now. There was simply too much at stake.

He chose to partake in one battle against the Night Lords personally. Upon seeing what his Legion had become, Corax finally snapped. The possibility that the prophecy he'd spent his life time struggling to adhere to was a lie, and that all the pain and suffering he'd caused had been for naught, drove him to madness. The Raven ordered an orbital strike on his position to ensure the death of the Spire Guard and himself. Though the popular myth is that his last words were, "Nevermore", they are in fact unknown. He was sobbing as he spoke, rendering a great deal of his last words incomprehensible.




That's all I have for now. I'll write more for the other loyalist Primarchs soon. At the moment I'm trying to think up material for Jaghatai Khan besides GENGHIS KHAN ON A MOTORCYCLE VROOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOOM!

What do you mean Mongolians in space and motorcycels are not mandatory! I think you secrectly aspire to usurpe the black libary for yourself But seriosly, great work man.

That's brilliant, particular the last line - had me laughing

Thanks guys, your C&C is much appreciated.

Jaghatai Khan, Lord of the V Legion

To willingly spearhead the largest genocide in all of history, the Great Crusade, you'd have to be at least somewhat sociopathic. Jaghatai Khan was no exception to this. He was a man who lived for thrills and nothing more. All he really wanted was to hear the roaring of his engines and dying screams of his enemies.

Khan landed on the planet Chorgoris, a fertile world dominated by great expanses of grassy plains. The planet was ruled by competing barbaric tribes, equipped with only the most rudimentary technology. Some of the more advanced tribes had recently created their first primitive fire arms. A minor, aspiring warlord raised Khan as his own son, teaching the Primarch in the bloody ways of Chorgoris. The warlord ruled over a small tribe known as the White Scars, a name Khan would take to heart. A minor cut on the warlord's knee grew infected and prove to be his undoing.

Immediately, Khan stepped in and took control of the White Scars. The Primarch proved to be a much more competent leader than his adopted father. He carved a bloody swathe across Chorgoris, slaughtering any that dared stand in his way. Out of fear mostly, neighboring tribes joined up with the White Scars with the hopes of sparing themselves from Khan's wrath. Within a matter of a few short years Khan had conquered all of Chorgoris.

Though Khan was a skilled general, he was not gifted in the field of politics. He spent all his time seeking out any would-be usurpers and brutally murdering them. The White Scars empire gradually crumbled under his reign. New tribes began to sprout up on the outskirts of his empire. The underclass of assorted peasants and farmers were growing increasingly dissatisfied with Khan's leadership; fear wasn't enough to keep them in line. Even Khan's own generals were considering attempting coups, hoping to take control of the White Scars before Khan could do anymore damage.

When Khan increased increased local tithes, almost a million peasants began an outright rebellion. Gathering what soldiers and barbarians remained loyal to him, Khan rode through the streets of his dying empire, putting down the revolt one peasant at a time. Nearby tribes took the opportunity to attack, so Khan rode against them too. Outnumbered and attacked from all sides, this appeared to be the end of Khan.

This was when the Emperor, who had been watching him for the past few days, chose to intervene. He teleported onto the battlefield with a force of a hundred Custodes and ensured victory for his son. When offered the opportunity to lead the V Legion for the Great Crusade, Khan eagerly accepted. His Legion, now named the White Scars, became specialized in the tactics that had won Khan control of Chorgoris; lightning swift assaults with no regard for the safety of your own men, only the destruction of your enemies.

Horus assumed that Khan would side with him in the upcoming war for control over the galaxy. After all, Khan seemed to fit perfectly with Slaanesh. He lived only for physical thrills and pleasure, which was exactly what Slaanesh would provide. The Warmaster was mistaken. Slaanesh came to Khan in dark dreams, showing him all the pleasure she could offer. As tempted as he was, Khan was disgusted by Slaanesh's perverted nature and chose to stand by the Emperor that had saved his life years ago.

Following the conflict, Khan continued to stand by the Imperium. He opposed Reboute's Codex Astartes, but was forced to comply by a joint Mechanicum and Imperial Guard force. Khan kept on fighting for the Imperium with what little remained of the White Scars, though Slaanesh never truly left his dreams. She continued to whisper of all the pleasures he could unlock if he only freed himself by the obstructive bureaucracy of the Imperium and gave his soul to chaos.

Khan met his end when his flagship was swept off in a great warp storm.

Whether or not Slaanesh was able to finally claim the warrior's soul is unknown.

Nice, though I can't help but feel you could expand on his demise a little more - it seems to end a little abruptly for one that had achieved so much.

The RL Genghis Khan for instance, was murdered by one of his many wives - a "Chin" Princess that he took as a hostage & tithe as payment from the ruler of one of the first big provinces that he took over.

Playing on that, it could be said that Khan had a love interest in someone that turned out to be possessed by a Slaaneshi daemon. Slighted at Khans constant refusals of Slaanesh's advances, the daemon plunged a dagger through his chest, piercing his primary and secondary hearts before consigning his ship to the void.

Could be expanded on, but I'm off to the pub so limited on time!

kitch102 wrote:Nice, though I can't help but feel you could expand on his demise a little more - it seems to end a little abruptly for one that had achieved so much.

The RL Genghis Khan for instance, was murdered by one of his many wives - a "Chin" Princess that he took as a hostage & tithe as payment from the ruler of one of the first big provinces that he took over.

Playing on that, it could be said that Khan had a love interest in someone that turned out to be possessed by a Slaaneshi daemon. Slighted at Khans constant refusals of Slaanesh's advances, the daemon plunged a dagger through his chest, piercing his primary and secondary hearts before consigning his ship to the void.

Could be expanded on, but I'm off to the pub so limited on time!

I have to say, I like that a lot more than what I wrote. It's more emotional and it's more historical. That said, I was under the impression that Primarchs weren't sexual beings. They were different enough from humans to be their own damn species and they didn't seem to have sex drives (with the exception of Fulgrim, and that wasn't until after he was possessed). Maybe a female prisoner of the White Scars, forced to become a serf, made a deal with Slaanesh. She was daemonically possessed and while she was helping Khan put his armor on she did what you said, stabbing him through both hearts with a daemonic blade.

Avenging the wrongs done to her tribe by the Khan in the days of yorn, "We surrendered to you out of fear lord, know now that fear is replaced with joy, and surrender replaced with vengeance".

STAB

ARGH!

Gurgle

Hack

Cough

Splat

Boom

Glad you like the suggestion, who's up next? I like this thread - good one!

Damn you're good.

So far I've only written about jerks (Khan), egomaniacs (Reboute) and psychopaths (Corax), so I figured the next Primarch I'd write would be one of the more morally upright ones.

Vulkan, Lord of the XVIII Legion

Of all the Primarchs, Vulkan was perhaps the most human. Following his death, he was remembered not as a warrior like Khan or a psychopath like Curze, but rather as the kind, gentlehearted man he was. Horus once remarked that he regretted Vulkan's death, though it was a necessary evil given Vulkan's unflinching loyalty to the Emperor.

Vulkan landed on the planet Nocturne, which was used as a human farming ground by Dark Eldar. The primitive people of Nocturne, having not yet harnessed electricity or fire arms, were no threat to the Dark Eldar, who could pick and choose slaves as they pleased. These people were allowed to live and breed only so that they'd provide more prey. They had taken to living in the darkest, most remote caves they could find, where the slavers were less likely to find them.

There, the young Primarch was raised in an environment of constant fear. At any time, any one of them could be snatched away. Unlike many of the other Primarchs, Vulkan truly understood what it felt like to be a victim. When the raids heightened, Vulkan decided that he wouldn't take it anymore.

Upon witnessing a new group of raiders landing, Vulkan left the cave, a hammer in each hand. He slaughtered any that he came across, making quick work of them with his twin hammers. So inspired by his example, the villagers left the caves as well to keep up the fight. They stole and mastered the Dark Eldar's technology, evening the odds.

To the Dark Eldar, mon-keigh primitive compared to even their own backwards kin couldn't possibly be a threat. Seeing all the villagers in one spot, no longer hidden in Nocturne's great cave systems, they launched an all out attack. All of the nearby slavers converged on Vulkan's posistion.

They had made a huge mistake.

Vulkan endured every venomous sword and electromagnetic whip they threw at him. He shrugged off every monomolecular blades and poisoned crystalline rounds they shot at him. Even a head-on shot from a fearsome dark lance couldn't slow him down. Every raider that dared stand against the Primarch was brought down by his hammers with ease. When two Cronos Pain Engines converged on him he brought them down simultaneously, both of the creatures succumbing to one blow.

A nearby Ravager, a fearsome gunship, managed to melt down Vulkan's hammers through a lucky shot from a Disintergrator Cannon and attempted to run down the unarmed Primarch. Vulkan simply grabbed the Ravager's spiked prow and hurled it into a nearby rock wall. At that point, any of the raiders with functioning spines ran for their miserable lives. The newly empowered villagers managed to track down and bring to justice a good number of them.

Against many of the villager's wishes, especially those who had lost family and friends, Vulkan refused to allow the raiders to be tortured. In his words, he refused to stoop to their level. He ordered them all quick, merciful executions and that was the end of the matter.

A week later the Emperor arrived. He revealed himself as Vulkan's father and spoke to him of all the help he could do if he accepted his position as the Lord of the XVII Legion. After only a few minutes of conversation Vulkan accepted. Soon he met up with his other brothers, whom he bonded to instantly. He was especially close with Rogal Dorn, who shared his view that the Great Crusade should be for the good of the people.

On Isstvan V, Vulkan would become the third of his brothers to die and the first Primarch causality of the Horus Heresy. Revealing his treachery, Perturabo ordered the Iron Warriors artillery to open fire on Vulkan's posistion. He disappeared in a great mushroom cloud along with his Legion's 1st company, leaving only ashes behind.

Of the Primarchs, I would write Jonson as the most comparable to Joffrey from Game of Thrones (though he'd be less of an idiot). Also, his moniker would be the Beast, because your first name can't be your moniker. You wouldn't call Vulkan the Vulkan.

Lion El'Jonson, Lord of the I Legion

Lion El'Jonson, sometimes referred to as the Beast, landed on the world of Caliban. It was a beautiful and fertile planet, but it was blighted by it's proximity to the Eye of Terror. At times, the material and the immaterial seemed to blur. Animals would explode into monstrosity of unbridled muscle and writhing tentacles. Impossible geography abounded; floating mountains and horizontal waterfalls were considered common sights on Caliban.

Jonson spent the first ten years of his life wandering the corrupted wilderness. For a full decade he had no contact with any humans or even civilized xenos. The only world he knew was the nightmarish realm he had found him within. But Jonson was a Primarch. He did not despair at his circumstances. Jonson learned which animals and plants could be eaten and where it was safe to sleep.

Eventually, Jonson came across a group of Knights from an organization known as the Order, dedicated to cleansing the world from chaos. Initially the Knights chose to kill Jonson, believing that a man of his superhuman stature surely was tainted. In all likely hood, if the Knights had tried to kill him Jonson would've slain them all, but this wasn't the case. One of the Knights, a great warrior named Luthor, sensed something in Jonson and prevented his fellow Knights from attacking. They coaxed Jonson into coming back with them to the Order's castle stronghold, where Luthor would act as his father.

Jonson learned to speak within a matter of days. Initially he sought to return to the wilderness, finding society and humanity as a whole irritating. However, it appealed to his greed and ambition. These Knights presented the oppurtunity to rule over an entire planet, a concept Jonson relished. He convinced Luthor to induct him within the Order, claiming to share their vision of an untainted Caliban, and rose up the ranks with ease. Soon, with his great intellect and strength, Jonson had risen to the top of the Order. Though he seemed dedicated enough to their mission, many of the Knights still distrusted him.

Referred to as the Beast behind his back, he became known for his ill temper. When questioned he would often respond with impromptu executions. Despite this Luthor still held great faith in his adopted son and stood proudly by him. Through an all persuasive campaign of planetary genocide, Jonson led the Order to purge all chaos tainted beings from the planet.

The Beast's rule continued for about a decade. He let Luthor handle most of the day to day matters, only intervening when the threat of Chaos reemerged. For reasons unknown, Chaos never tempted Jonson, despite his close proximity. The hellish dreams that plagued many of his brothers were completely unknown to him. Just as Jonson was beginning to grow bored with Caliban, the Emperor arrived.

The Emperor, his true father, offered him power he could've never dreamed of. He would be leading a Legion of thousands of super human, genetically augmented warriors equipped with the finest armor the galaxy had known. A whole fleet of space vessels, capable of destroying worlds, would be at his command. And he, Lion El'Jonson, would be annihilating entire species in the name of the greatest empire the galaxy had ever known. His only qualm was that he would be taking orders from the Emperor, though he consented when informed that he would be communicating with the Emperor quite rarely as he went farther and farther from the Segmentum Solar.

Luthor, being too old to become an Astartes, was of little use to the Beast anymore. Jonson ordered him to turn the Order into a recruiting operation for his legion. The best and youngest Knights would be put through a series of trials and if they succeeded they would become Astartes and sent out to meet up with the main fleet of Jonson's Legion, which he had named the Dark Angels. Luthor was hurt greatly by his son leaving him behind, so Jonson took the opportunity to tell him that if he failed in his recruiting duties he'd be killed. After all, he needed some way to keep his adopted father loyal to his cause.

During the Great Crusade the Dark Angels conquered a great many worlds, though Jonson made no friends amongst his brothers. He was enraged when Horus was appointed as Warmaster, viewing him as a usurper. The Beast refused to accept Horus' rule until he was whisked away in the night by a joint Sons of Horus and Night Lords task personally led by Horus and Curze. They made it very clear that he would do as instructed or the poor Dark Angels would become Primarchless and be absorbed into another Legion. When the Horus Heresy broke out Jonson immediately sided with the Emperor.

Now, I don't know if I would've been creative enough to think up the awesome part about the siege weapons, but if I was then I would write that also. Basically, in the Horus Heresy, Jonson steals a bunch of siege weapons that will prevent the Warmaster from ever attacking Terra. This means that the Imperium will be able to survive, though it will be reduced to only Terra and maybe a few planets that Horus doesn't notice while he's rampaging around the galaxy. And Jonson is all proud of himself and he's like, "IM GUNNA BE THE NEW WARMESTER!" So Perturabo, being the jerkass that he is, comes up to Jonson (Isstvan V hasn't happened yet, so everyone thinks Perturabo is loyal) and says, "Hey, if you give me those siege weapons I'll tell everyone that you'd make a great Warmaster!" And Jonson is like, "Ah yeeeaaaaaah" and gives him the siege weapons. Then Perturabo uses those siege weapons to make Vulkan go boom. So, if I had thought of something as awesome as that I would've written that, but I don't know if I would.

So, then, during the big assault on Terra, instead of helping to fight Horus, Jonson says he needs to handle something on Caliban. This wouldn't be from the perspective of Jonson, so you don't know what it is, but I'd be implied to be pretty big considering that he's going to deal with it rather than fight Horus, whom he hates more than anyone else. And that's the last anyone ever hears of Jonson.

At the end of the heresy the Dark Angels return to Terra at only half strength. They agree to serve the new Emperor, Reboute Guilliman, on the condition that there is no investigation into what happened on Caliban. Reboute decides to discreetly look into later (seeing as a missing Primarch is a big deal) and discovers there is no more Caliban. It's possible it was sucked into the Eye of Terror or obliterated through a sizable orbital bombardment, but he doesn't no for sure.

Ferrus Manus, Lord of the X Legion

Alright, in the background Ferrus Manus, the Gorgon doesn't stand out. He's stoic. Okay, so are Dorn, Guilliman and Perturabo. And he's machinery focused. So are Dorn and Perturabo also. All Ferrus really did was have iron hands and die. The Horus Heresy series didn't really expand his role. I'm not blaming the authors though; he was a background character. His main purpose was being killed by Fulgrim to demonstrate how far Fulgrim had fallen.

Well, he's friends with Fulgrim. So maybe I'd have him be a perfectionist like Fulgrim. That's why they're buddies; they relate to each other. And that can tie into the fact that his Legion has a lot of bionics. They're obsessed with self improvement, just as Ferrus is. Note: I checked the 40k wiki page on this and apparently Ferrus Manus is canonically the opposite of what I would've written; he hates machinery and gak.

So, Ferrus grew up on the harsh and unforgiving world of Medusa. It had partially terraformed in the 29th millennium by an ambitious scientific colony but the project had been abandoned, leaving Medusa a planet just barely hospitable for human life. Earlier on, Ferrus' adoptive father instilled in them the lesson, "The world's tough, ya just gotta be tougher." When Ferrus had just reached young adulthood (though he was only three in Terran years) Medusa was attacked by a lesser C'tan being known as the Dead One. It was a great, eyeless serpent of shining chrome, born aloft on the chain draped skeletal frames of wings. By this point Ferrus had already gained a position of leadership on Medusa, acting as a sort of governor for one of the world's few cities.

Ferrus chose a direct approach to the problem. He hiked to the top of the largest volcano he could find and hollered to the skies, challenging the Dead One. Having never seen a soul as ripe as a Primarch's, the Dead One couldn't resist. It came down from the clouds like a bird of prey. The Primarch and the God fought long and hard. Though initially the Dead One had the upper hand, Ferrus would emerge as the victory. He manged to get a good grip around the Dead One's neck and it hurled it within the volcano's crater. It's lower half was submerged entirely within the bubbling lava and destroyed instantly. What remained of the flailing and screeching C'tan gradually melted away from the radiating heat.

Strangely compelled, Ferrus laid his hands in the molten chrome. No longer distracted by the Dead One's attempt on his life, he was able to fully sense the metal's innate power. The chrome hardened around him. As Ferrus carefully stepped back, he found that though it had become harder than adamantium, it was easily as flexible as his flesh. The experienced awed and unsettled the Gorgon deeply. He would only ever speak of it once, to his brother Fulgrim.

When the Emperor came to Medusa, Ferrus consented to lead the X Legion almost immediately. He found himself even more awed by just the sight of the Emperor than the C'tan he had confronted. More than that, the Gorgon supported the Emperor's vision of a united universe, free from the wanton violence and destruction that was presently threatening to consume it. Ferrus named his legion the Iron Hands after his own, believing they should seek to emulate him and refine themselves with all the wondrous technology of the 31st millennium.

Ferrus got alone well enough with the other Primarchs, though he gained a strong friendship with Fulgrim. They both sought for constant self improvement (and they were the only Primarchs whose names started with 'F'). When the two fought together they were unstoppable. They're fleets stayed together as long as they could over the Great Crusade, though they were ultimately forced to part.

The Gorgon gradually became a hideous patchwork of man and machinery. Soon he had built himself into his armor, which he was constantly augmenting with the assistance of his legion's finest servitors and tech marines. In jest, Fulgrim told him that he'd make an excellent lightning rod or radio tower. Ferrus did not take the comment lightly; he called Fulgrim a dancing pretty boy pansy who had no place in the Emperor's army and proceeded to storm off. The two later reconciled. Their next disagreement would not be so trivial.

Fulgrim begged to Ferrus to join Horus' rebellion. Ferrus refused and the two brothers later found themselves head to head on Isstvan V. Despite his mechanical augmentations, the Gorgon was easily outclassed by Fulgrim's masterful swordplay and was impaled through the throat within the first minutes of combat.

I really like these interpretations, and I agree with some of them as well. I might as well call it personal fanon, what with the dubious nature of all 40k canon.

I like this, and yes I demand feedback! But seriosly. great work LL, you always impress me with your postings here in the fiction section

Alright, new Primarch. This entry will be kinda short. And yes, I'm still the loyalist Primarch part. Also, I switched Erebus' and Kor Phaeron's roles. Kor Phaeron was a religious man with no military experience, so why the hell did Lorgar make him the 1st Captain and set up the devilishly cunning Erebus as just a fething Chaplain. Seriously, Lorgar was a real fether at times.

Lorgar, Lord of the XVII Legion

Lorgar, otherwise known by his moniker of the Prophet, was raised on the religious world of Colchis. It was ruled by an ancient priesthood that believed an almighty, golden being (or, according to some, presence) would descend upon their world and bring upon them a new age of enlightenment. Like most abandoned, lost and orphaned children, Lorgar was raised by the priesthood and indoctrinated in their age old ways. The Priest Kor Phaeron acted as his father.

Just three years after his "birth", Lorgar was an ordained Priest and Colchis' rising star, referred to as the Prophet for his seizure induced visions of a great future yet to come. He was reknowed for his diplomatic approach to things and his undying devotion to the priesthood. Soon he had risen to the Grand Master of the Priesthood, referred to as the Divine Emissary of the Golden One. For a full decade he ruled over Colchis and it was a peaceful time. Some came to believe that the Prophet was in fact their savior and that it's description of being golden was simply figurative language.

This concept terrified Lorgar. He had any who spoke of this imprisoned and forced to repent. Those who did not change their wicked beliefs were destroyed; Lorgar went as far to ensure it was as though they had never existed. Any records or traces of their existence were purged in great furnaces, leaving ashes as the only testament to their miserable lives. The Prophet was dominated by a deep fear that there was no beneficent, divine hand guiding the universe and that he was alone in an uncaring universe.

When the Emperor arrived, Lorgar (and the Priesthood by extension) were overjoyed. Lorgar's prophecies were correct. The golden armored giant brought to Colchis all the miracles of modern technology and the protection of the Imperium that the Holy Astartes Legions and countless Guardsmen provided. He offered Lorgar the opportunity to lead the XVII Legion and pursue the Great Crusade with his brothers, all according to the Emperor's sacred plan. Lorgar accepted instantly.

Kor Phaeron was eager to join the Great Crusade as well, but was much too old to become an Astartes. The procedure would no doubt kill him. Instead of leaving his adopted father behind, even though he had found his true one, Lorgar had Kor Phaeron put through a variety of surgical procedures. Through the use of bionics, rejuvenation therapy, minimal 'geneforging' and surgical enhancements, Kor Phaeron was able to fight with Lorgar. He was appointed the Chaplain of the 1st Company, the Prophet's Spiritual Advisor and the Master of the Faith for Lorgar's Legion, now known as the Word Bearers.

The Word Bearers were larger than any other legion save the Ultramarines. Lorgar spent a great deal of time recruiting and training his Legion, as opposed to immediately setting out on the Great Crusade. In fact the Prophet was extremely hesitant to go out to war, a field he was untrained in, in the name of his godlike father whom he was terrified of failing. He made sure to appoint the finest military minds to his Legion as advisors and only gave the most cunning Astartes positions of authority. A genius strategist by the name of Erebus became the Captain of the 1st Company and one of Lorgar's most trusted men (despite Kor Phaeron's distaste for him).

When the Word Bearers finally set out they were quite thorough. They did not simply stop at conquering planets. Instead, they launched year long campaigns to cleanse the entire world of possible xenos or chaos taint while indoctrinating the population in the worship of the Emperor and ensuring that the worship would consider for generations to come. Great Cathedrals and artworks were built under Lorgar's eye, creating worlds worthy of the Emperor's light. The Word Bearers, despite their size, conquered exceedingly few worlds, something the Emperor would not stand by.

He rebuked Lorgar before his Legion and made it very clear the purpose of Astartes was war. They were to cleanse the planet of those who would not obey follow the Emperor and leave the rest for the great bureaucracy of the Imperium. Lorgar was a failure, wasting precious time and resources. In the Imperium, failure at such a grand scale was not tolerated. If he had been a standard General as opposed to the Emperor's son, he would've faced demotion and serious retribution.

For a solid month Lorgar mourned the Emperor's command. And, with all the time he had spent in the Imperium, old fears were resurfacing. The Imperium wasn't the utopia he'd dreamed off and the Emperor certainly wasn't the benevolent God he'd imagined. Rather, the Emperor was a vindictive dictator struggling to maintain control over his authoritarian domain. Perhaps he was adrift in a meaningless existence as he had dreaded.

Erebus, having hidden his devotion to the forces of chaos for years, chose this tumultuous time to speak of it to his Primarch. The Prophet had always thought of it as an especially corrupting xenos force and nothing more, just as the Emperor had taught him. He'd been very clearly warned of it's insidious nature and then told nothing else. Erebus spoke to Lorgar of the almighty gods of emotion that competed to rule the ever shifting tides of the warp. They welcomed worship and rewarded loyal followers greatly. A Primarch like Lorgar would be priceless to them.

Initially, Lorgar struck Erebus down and drew his meltapistol, ready to slay his scheming captain. Kor Phaeron, having heard the commotion, burst inside. When Lorgar informed him of the force Erebus had truly been serving, Kor Phaeron urged Lorgar to just pull the trigger and stop the heresy at its start. Oddly enough, Erebus did not panic. He didn't beg for his life or pray for forgiveness. The 1st Captain just stared down Lorgar without a word. Soon Kor Phaeron was shouting frantically, begging his Primarch to kill him.

Lorgar dropped his weapon and, with an air of solemnity, admitted, "The bastard is right."

A skilled orator, Lorgar set to work corrupting the remainder of the Word Bearers. He preyed on their fears and insecurities, emphasizing the Emperor's bloodthirsty nature and contrasting it with the welcoming forces of Chaos. Almost the entire Legion was swayed to Lorgar's cause and those that weren't disappeared rather quickly. According to Imperial Documents Lorgar submitted back to Terra, a great deal of Astartes had perished in the Battle of Nedris against the highly lethal K'nibs and gibbering G'fithrers. Later investigations, conducted in M.33, indicated that there was no planet by the designation Nedris, nor any xenos referred to as K'nibs and gibbering G'fithrers. Also, there were causalities from all companies, indicating that the entire Legion (which was spread across a vast swathe of space) had united to fight on one planet, something nearly unheard of. These details were glossed over in the confines of the Imperium's ever growing bureaucracy.

Following this, Lorgar brought the ways of Chaos to Horus Lupercal, the Warmaster, the Emperor's Favored Son whose exploits were legend and whose loyalty was unbreakable.

Thus, the Horus Heresy was born.

Under orders from the Warmaster himself, the bulk of the Word Bearers Legion was sent to Ultramar. They were ordered to destroy the bulk of the Ultramarines fleet, situated at Calth by Horus' orders, while the battle of Isstvan V was underway. Horus lied greatly about the Ultramarine's numbers so that the Word Bearers would be less likely to resist. In fact, he was essentially sacrificing their Legion to ensure the Siege of Terra went smoothly. Lorgar himself, with around a third of his Legion, would accompany the Sons of Horus as the Heresy raged.

Erebus, aware of Horus' plans, persuaded Lorgar into having Kor Phaeron leading the strike on Calth. He insisted that Kor Phaeron, who long term loyalty was in question, needed to draw enemy blood. If he spearheaded the destruction of Ultramar, there would be no turning back. In truth, there was still bad blood between the two and Erebus was simply hoping to get rid of the False Astartes Chaplain. Even Lorgar was beginning to feel annoyed by him.

The bulk of Lorgar's Legion would never be heard from again, lost in the fighting. Kor Phaeron's vessel was shot down before he even had a chance to enter combat. His last words, recorded over a vox unit were, "Moving into posistion; there are more of them then the-AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAA!" Realizing that Horus had betrayed him, his faith in the Warmaster's cause and Chaos as a whole was beginning to wane.

When he reached Terra and saw what the Emperor's Children were doing to the innocent civilians just caught in crossfire, he realized he had gone too far. Standing on the bridge of the Word Bearer's flagship, he ordered that his fleet open fire on Horus' vessel. Their combined firepower would leave nothing left of the unsuspecting Warmaster. The crew refused to obey. When Lorgar ordered it again, Erebus attacked him from behind with a meltagun at a range of less than five feet, incinerating a great deal of the Primarch's spine. As Lorgar writhed and screamed on the deck of his vessel, his suffering ignored by the crew, Erebus put the meltagun to his head and finished him off.

Wow - that's cool.

How much of that is original LoneLictor material / is any based in current fluff? I really like it.

kitch102 wrote:Wow - that's cool.

How much of that is original LoneLictor material / is any based in current fluff? I really like it.

Thanks, I really appreciate your comments.

I made up the parts about Lorgar killing the people who thought he was God, Horus tricking the Word Bearers on Ultramar (in reality the Word Bearers knew what they were getting into when they attacked Calth), Erebus orchestrating Kor Phaeron's death and Lorgar turning loyalist at the end. Most of the rest (like the parts about Lorgar needing something to worship) were from Index Astartes IV, published in various installments of White Dwarf Magazine, back before White Dwarf was crap. Now, I don't like how I wrote this paragraph...

"When he reached Terra and saw what the Emperor's Children were doing to the innocent civilians just caught in crossfire, he realized he had gone too far. Standing on the bridge of the Word Bearer's flagship, he ordered that his fleet open fire on Horus' vessel. Their combined firepower would leave nothing left of the unsuspecting Warmaster. The crew refused to obey. When Lorgar ordered it again, Erebus attacked him from behind with a meltagun at a range of less than five feet, incinerating a great deal of the Primarch's spine. As Lorgar writhed and screamed on the deck of his vessel, his suffering ignored by the crew, Erebus put the meltagun to his head and finished him off. "

...so I'm going to write out that scene.

Terra had been plunged into night.

The sheer volume of drop pods, raining forth from a fleet of a size unseen since the Ullanor Campaign, had blotted out the sun. Terra's only source of illumination was the raging fires that threatened to consume the planet wide cityscape. Swirling, tumultuous clouds of smoke and ash only added to the darkness. Occasionally the sky would light up from nuclear warheads and pulse missiles fired from orbiting Strike Cruisers. The light was always short lived; traitors preferred the shadows.

From the bridge of the Fidelitas Lex, Lorgar's personal flagship, 1st Captain Erebus watched in awe. The only thing that stood between him and the void was a twitching force shield with a peculiar red tint. Most of the ship's crew didn't like it; to them it was just another occupational hazard. Lorgar, the Prophet, had insisted on it. At the moment Lorgar was reclining in his great throne, focusing on a set of viewscreens while the crew toiled beneath him. Also at Lorgar's insistence, the bridge was divided into two sections. There was an arrow shaped trench pointing towards the force shield and suspended on platform above them were the high level personal like Lorgar himself. From there he could see all, judging over his minion's miserable lives like the instrument of God he'd deemed himself to be.

The throne was carved from a single chunk of obsidian. It was plain in features, save two leering daemon heads at the end of the armrests. The Prophet was wearing his ceremonial blood red robes, complete with dancing golden patterns. A stiff black collar was propped up around the sides and back of his head and a dazzling rainbow halo was psychically suspended above the Prophet's scalp, completing the outfit. He didn't look noble or powerful; he looked pompous and absurd. Unlike his Primarch, Erebus had instead chosen to deck out in the most physically intimidating combat gear

With his Tactical Dreadnought armor, he looked almost as large as Lorgar. It was painted a darker shade of red than Lorgar's robes, less like freshly spilled blood and more like an ugly scab. A great daemon skull had been built into his chest, its spiraling horns flanking his tusked, canine helmet. Light shown from his slanted mechanical eyes. Twin rows of pikes ran down the curvature of his back armor, adorned with the skulls of infants he'd slain. In one hand he clutched his accursed Crozius Arcanum, a once noble weapon now infused with chaotic energies. It was a rod five feet in length ending in a Custode's skull. Two bands of metal encircled it, one horizontally and the other vertically, forming the frame of a sphere. Hundreds of mono molecular pins ran down the bands. In his other hand was a combi-melta, a weapon that looked as though someone had welded two oversized guns together and then added a chainsword and some sort of diesel engine just for show. His entire appearance was built around intimidation; he was 1st Captain Erebus, the Chosen Son of Chaos, and he would be regarded as such.

Gears clanked and pistons hissed with each ponderous step as he approached his Primarch.

From his obsidian throne, Lorgar was gazing upon a wall of twenty six viewscreens in a four by six formation. Each one was from a different Word Bearers' helmet feed so that Lorgar could see the Siege of Terra from the ground level. It was an expensive set up, but it had been built on Lorgar’s assistance. At the moment he was watching from the perspective of the 312th Company, helping the Emperor's Children to consolidate a recently conquered civilian district. A man was running down the street from one of the Emperor's Children Noise Marines, several diamonds built into his chain drapped and blood encrusted armor. A peeled leathery face frozen in a permanent scream had been nailed onto his left shoulder pad.

The Noise Marine hurled a Blazer IV model grenade after him. There was a bright flash and the vidfeed’s audio briefly went out. It returned just as the light subsided. The vacuum created by the grenade’s fireball had sucked the air from his lungs and wrenched the lungs from his body in the process. There were hanging from his mouth, deflated and soaking with flame. Raining cinders were singing tiny holes in the exposed lung flesh. Laughing hysterically, the Noise Marine gestured to the man as he stumbled blindly. There was too much blood and smoke in his face for him to see anything. The Emperor’s Children lacked the sympathy for a mercy kill; they’d leave him alive as long as his pain entertained them.

On another screen one Noise Marine, his arm ending in warty tentacle slicked with some oily substance, was chaining an obese woman’s hands over her head to a nearby pole. She was begging for his life, saying that her father owned a manufactorum and that if they let her live they’d be paid more than they had ever seen in their lives. He stroked her fat chin(s) with his hand and said that they weren’t going to kill her, though by the end she would be begging for death. His vox grill rendered his voice a harsh metallic growl. Then, the Noise Marine began caressing her bloated form with his tentacle, whispering all the things he’d do to her. She began to sob.

“Dance!” bellowed one of the Emperor’s Children. He was helmetless so you could see his gaunt bug eyed face and the vox grill that had replaced most of his lower jaw. Wires were running up down his head, digging in and emerging from scarred holes in his scalp. Bloody tears were running down from his pink compound eyes that seemed on the verge of popping straight out of his ugly head. He blew off a young boy’s foot with a shot from his bolter pistol. Again, he shouted at the screaming boy. “Dance!”

Lorgar’s own Word Bearers were systematically dissecting an elderly woman at the center of a chalk drawn eight pointed star. She was staring ahead blankly, occasionally twitching or making an odd whining noise if they removed a particular organ. Her liver had warranted the most resistance, but after they’d wrench that free of her chest cavity she seemed to calm down. The Word Bearers took no pleasure from this debauchery as the Emperor’s Children would’ve. In their minds, it was just their obligation to their Dark Masters to do this. Nothing personal. Somehow that made it worse. They replaced the organs they removed with excrement, as decreed by some daemonic whisperings heard by a Veteran Sergeant.

“Do you see this Erebus?” Lorgar said. He was twitching. Erebus noted that he hadn’t blinked in almost a full two minutes, something unusual even for Primarchs. His voice cracked. “You see it, don’t you? Don’t you?”

“Yes my liege,” said Erebus. “I see it.”

“Is this the righteous crusade you envisioned when you spoke to me of rebellion?”

“My liege, if I may say, this is one of many battles. Did you not see the agri-farmers dancing in the streets of Gorgious? Was the liberation of Anthraxus-”

Cutting him off, Lorgar said, “Is this what you envisioned Erebus? Does this sight please you?”

“It is a necessary evil.”

“What about ‘chaos’ means that the Emperor’s Children have to rape and pillage the civilian hablocks? They still have their freewill. They know what they’re doing. And they could stop at anytime without consequence. So, explain to me, how it is necessary?”

Lorgar was an impudent child who relished the concept of liberation but recoiled in disgust when faced with the real thing. In Erebus’ mind his Primarch was unworthy of any of his ridiculous titles and all the pompous garb he had grown accustomed to wearing. The halo on his head alone was worth more than the average Imperial civilian would ever see in his life. At least Kor Phaeron would’ve waited until after the battle to throw a tantrum about it.

“Well Erebus? Have you no answer?”

“There is a philosophy,” said Erebus slowly and carefully, in an unintentionally patronizing matter. “That in every good there is some evil and in every evil there is some good. Black and white don’t exist; only shades of grey. Even our glorious reclamation of the universe for chaos is not without sin. That is the nature of humanity.”

“You bastard! How can you stand by this?”

Of course Lorgar was the first to resort to name calling. When confronted by logic and rational thinking, that’s what he always did. He was just a child in a demigod’s body. The fact was that if Lorgar got what he wanted at the moment and there was no Horus Heresy, he’d be back to whining about how unjust the dictatorial Emperor was. And somehow he would blame it on Erebus, because he made Erebus do everything for him and then proceeded to blame him for it. The 1st Captain felt his temper rising.

“Captain Gaunto!” said Lorgar, standing up from his throne. “Relay this message to all vessels of the Word Bearers fleet in Terran orbit; open fire with all batteries on the bridge of the Vengful Spirit, the Warmaster’s flag ship.”

Erebus’ twin hearts skipped a beat. The Vengul Spirit’s shields were at 12%, just enough keep out any unwanted psychic presences and deflect the occasional stray fire. The combined battery of the Word Bearers’ fleet wouldn’t leave anything left of Horus. And without him to unite the opposing factions of the Chaos Gods, it was all over. Erebus’ life works would be rendered moot and he’d be facing the worst tortures imaginable at the hands of the Emperor.

The combi melta went off before Erebus realized what he was doing. A melta gun fires a blast of sheer heat that can reach up to 3.4 billion degrees. It’s intended to melt through the adamantium halls of Land Raiders, the finest vehicles the Imperium has to offer. A Primarch’s super human biology is only slightly superior to one. Lorgar saw what was coming and leapt to the side, but the radiating heat caught him bad. Burnt flesh peeled from blackened bones. His robes disintegrated from his form.

The scorched remnants of Lorgar came crashing into his viewscreen display, which toppled down raining shattered glass and sparks. There it was that Lorgar came to lay, in a pile of broken machinery. Blood, sweat and lymph fluids were exiting his body from his cracked, peeling skin. He craned his neck slightly to catch a glimpse of his legs and suddenly a great deal of vomit was spilling forth from his mouth. It was just leaking into his many wounds.

Erebus felt the currents of the warp shifting. Something was draining energy from his surroundings and concentrating it, shaping it into some lethal. A faint glowing aura surrounded the Primarch; the little bitch was launching one last ditch psychic attack on Erebus. Panicking, the 1st Captain raised his Crozius Arcanum and brought it down on Lorgar again and again, laying waste to the Primarch.

Wow. I mean, of course I will like any story about anyone going to bat with Lorgar's face, but this is good. Really good.

Huzzaaa! Someone beat Lorgar! Someone get that man a beer

It's good because it's conflicting. In a way everyone will always be happy to see Lorgar take a beating. What's really awesome in a grimdark way is that it happens the first time he's about to do something we would like him for...

Ty for the comments, they really are appreciated.

Leman Russ, Lord of the VI Legion

Russ is the mostly the same as his incarnation in the Index Astartes, as well as the Horus Heresy novels. He serves the Emperor unquestioningly, acting as his Executioner. When the two now forgotten Primarchs revealed their true colors, the Emperor trusted only Russ to deal with them appropriately. And when Magnus was corrupted by the forces of Chaos, it was Russ who stopped the Thousand Sons before they could wreck havoc upon the Imperium.

Growing up on the death world of Fenris, a planet that had been classified as unsuitable for life by the Mechanicum, Russ had raised by feral, barbaric tribes of primitive humans. They had instilled in him the belief that the strong should rule the weak, for when Fenris' sky serpents came searching for prey or the ice beneath you began to crack, weakness was death. With his superhuman biology, Russ was easily the strongest of his tribe and was soon crowned it's leader. He protected his people well from Fenris' dangers and was a good leader by their standards.

After two full decades of ruling over his tribe, Russ met the Emperor. Recognizing the somewhat feral looking giant as his son, the Emperor offered him better living standards, security (something Fenris was dearly lacking in) and an entire Legion of super soldiers under his command in return for serving the Imperium. Russ accepted without hesitation, seeing the Emperor as his rightful ruler.

The Wolf King (as the citizens of the Imperium came to know him by, despite Fenris' distinct lack of wolves) showed the Emperor something the other Primarchs lacked. When given orders, Russ did not question them. He had no qualms about the nature of his assignments. The Emperor was his rightful leader, and Russ would obey him as such. His brother Magnus, a self proclaimed intellectual, mocked him for this, accusing Russ of lacking the free thought that separated man from beast.

Later, Magnus would violate the Council of Nikaea and the commandments of the Emperor himself, by journeying across the warp and psychically reaching into the Emperor's mind. He screamed of Horus' treachery and the Imperium ravaged by warfare. This allowed the warp to mesh with the real world for a fraction of a second, spawning the most heinous of Daemons within the Imperial Palace and mutating the Emperor's attendants into mewling chaos spawn. The resulting psychic shock wave would give psychics across Terra nightmares for years to come. The Emperor immediately shut Magnus out, but the damage was done.

Russ was given a golden opportunity for revenge.

He was dispatched to Prospero to capture his rogue brother and purify his Legion, one no doubt already in the throes of Chaos. On his way there, he received a message from the Warmaster Horus informing him the Emperor had adjusted Russ' assignment. His new task, first and foremost, was to kill Magnus. Blinded by wrath and his own unquestioning nature, Russ obeyed. He launched a week long orbital bombardment upon Prospero, but the Thousand Sons were prepared for him. Their battle monastery and all their world's major cities were sheathed in psychic shields that couldn't be penetrated by his Legion's orbital missile strikes.

However, Magnus' battle monastery did have a weakness. It's psychic dome only protected it from attacks above the ground, not below. Russ had his Legion's vehicles equipped with drills, buzzsaws and all sorts of mining gear. It is said that at least seventeen million servitors were brought in by Russ to assist in digging and stabilizing their underground tunnels. To ensure that the Thousand Sons would be unable to predict their bold plan, Russ had high level Xenos psykers and daemons executed outside the cities and monastery by the thousands, causing great rifts and waves in the currents of the warp. Magnus himself was blinded to the Space Wolves plans, though his journal indicates he did have a nightmarish fever dream about Russ, now a slobbering hairy beast, clawing his way through the floor of Magnus' personal quarters and dragging the Lord of the Thousand Sons to the flaming depths below.

Nine days later (nine being the holy number of Tzeentch), Russ arrived. The battle monastery began to quake and it's foundations gave away, collapsing great portions of the building. Ammunition stockpiles detonated in the chaos, creating great explosions and terrible plumes of flame that could be seen from orbit. With the concentration of the Legion's Sorcerers interrupted, the psychic shield burst into flickering warp flame, which came raining down upon them. Amid the smoking ruins, collapsed towers and claustrophobic tunnels the Space Wolves and Thousand Sons did battle.

The Thousand Sons were outnumbered 9 to 1, but they the powers of the warp at their side. Lumbering behemoths of writhing flesh and spastic, tentacled creatures wreathed in blue flames prowled the battlefield, preying the Space Wolves from all sides. Servitors erupted into biomechnical beasts of grasping claws and gnashing teeth. Magnus himself took to battle, the ravaged ground liquefying under his feet as he cut a bloody swathe through the Space Wolves ranks. Lightning shot forth from his finger tips and the ground beneath his enemies exploded into tentacles at his whims. Those who looked into Magnus' cyclopean eye died horrible deaths as their armor reached scalding temperatures and their organs ruptured within. Even with their numbers, the Space Wolves seemed hopeless.

That was when Russ emerged from the wreckage, having finally clawed his way free from a twenty eight story tower that had collapsed upon him. He took one look at Magnus and went into action. Charging towards him, the Wolf King grabbed a nearby Sorcerer by the throat and hurled the unfortunate Traitor at Magnus' eye. Magnus reacted quickly, blasting the Sorcerer with lightning and flame, but it served only to melted the Sorcerer. Liquefied ceramite, reaching an estimated three million degrees, splashed Magnus' face. Drawing his fearsome frost blade, Russ slashed his brother's throat and simultaneously kneed his crotch plate with enough strength to shatter it.

Blinded only in the real world, Magnus could still see Russ through the warp. Scaled hands, oozing tentacles, fearsome claws and other appendages best left to the imagination reached up from the wreckage, assailing Russ from all sides and pulling him beneath. As the Wolf King struggled, Magnus impaled him through the chest with a glowing blade. Russ reached out and grabbed Magnus' wrist with both hands, wrenching in opposite directions. Bone snapped and flesh teared, removing his hand from his body. Wrenching the blade free from his chest, the Wolf King stabbed Magnus through his shattered crotch plate.

Sheer pain broke Magnus' concentration and the daemon limbs gripping Russ slipped away. As the Lord of the Thousand Sons lay on his back, battered and broken he mouthed a prayer to Tzeentch. He and his warriors began to fade from sight, dissipating into thin air. Though the Thousand Sons Legion was saved, it was too late for Magnus. Russ decapitated his brother and then crushed his skull beneath his ceramite combat boot, just to make sure. The Space Wolves emerged from Prospero as the proud victors of their greatest battle yet, unaware that Horus had manipulated them.

Upon learning what he had done, Russ was desperate to redeem himself. When the Horus Heresy broke out, the Alpha Legion had been tasked with keeping the Space Wolves away from Terra. Determined to not fail the Emperor again, the Wolf King neglected the Alpha Legion's hit and run strikes on his fleet, going straight to Terra. There, on the rubble strewn streets of a Death Guard controlled hab block, he would meet his end.

And here's the actual story part, describing Russ' end.

Thick cords of inflamed intestines dangled from the Plague King's ruptured belly, swaying in the ashy wind. Bound together by a length of rusted chain, they served as a sort of loincloth for him. His corpulent form was swarming with flies and maggots, engorging themselves on his dead flesh and replacing it with their secretions and vomit. Wet, runny molds and some sort of monstrous daemon flesh patched over the gaps in his corroded, pustule dotted armor. A hood of dried flesh and a bulky, wheezing respirator mercifully hid his dead gaze.

Mortarion the Plague King, Lord of the Death Guard Legion had chosen to bring the blessings of Nurgh-Leth to Terra personally.

In undeath, the poor souls of the Imperium's underclass would find immortality. They would be numbed to the pains of existence. In effect, Mortarion brought to them an end to all suffering. He viewed his association with death as a misunderstand; in his diseased mind, he was a champion of life. Of course, there were those who opposed his noble cause. Those deceived by Tzeentch claimed that the numbed state of undeath was not life at all. And there were others, like the Emperor, who were opponents to life itself. The Emperor, in his great golden armor with his flame wreathed sword, was the true patron of death. Now the Emperor was on his way out and soon Tzeentch would face a similar fate. It was hopeless to oppose Nurgh-Leth.

As the Pestilent God himself had said to Mortarion, "Life always finds a way."

The Death Guard's rank and file Astartes, their shattered and eroded armor barely containing their bloated corpses, performed most of the actual work. Mortarion simply oversaw it. They slew those that resisted the Champion of Life and composted their bodies as a breeding ground for maggots, fungi, diseases and all of the universe's beautiful things. The civilians that swallowed their pride and bent their knee to the Death Guard found themselves rewarded with immortality as their bodies swelled and festered. It was a fine existence doing the Lord's work.

"My liege," said Kargul, Captain of the 3rd Company in a wet, gurgling voice. A cloak of dried flesh had been draped over his great shoulders, setting him apart from his men. Thick, coagulated blood drooled from his respirator as he spoke. His envenomed sword was sheathed as he spoke to his Primarch, a symbol of respect. "Reports are coming in of a giant tearing through our ranks in the Northern Quadrant. He's heading towards our position."

"Thank you, Captain," Mortarion said. "May I have the visorscope?"

Kargul handed him a cumbersome mechanical device, meant to fit over an Astartes' helmet and provide vision to far off areas of the battlefield. Mortarion wore a Primarch sized, nonregulation respirator helmet, but it seemed to work well enough for him. He saw a huge figure, not quite man but not quite beast, carving a swathe through the Death Guard ranks. The feral thing seemed to ignore most of the Plague Marines, but those that had the misfortune to get in his way met a bloody end. As it laid waste to a corpulent terminator with a glowing power fist, it let out a horrible cry. "MORTARION"

What disturbed Mortarion the most was that there wasn't any anger in his voice, only the slightest hint of resignation. "Form a defensive firing positive and focus on giant. Make sure he pays for every one of our rank he's slain and every innocent he's murdered. Do not, on any circumstances, engage him in close combat."

"My liege, do you know who he is?" Kargul said as he drew his plasma pistol.

"Our brother of the Space Wolves Legion, the esteemed Leman Russ. Though I can't say I knew him particularly well, it is a dire shame that he could not be swayed to our cause. Someone with his strength could have done wonders for our cause."

"Perhaps we should fall back."

"It's too late for that, Captain Kargul. He'll reach us before any gunships can."

As the Wolf King neared, the Plague Marines opened fire. All other noise was drowned out by a bombastic choir of every weapon available to the Traitor Legions. Rows of standard infantry men blazed away with rusted bolt guns, their rounds merely deflecting off of Russ' concrete grey armor. Those shots that managed to penetrate his armor's joints or weak spots, and even those that hit the Primarch's feral, slanted face had no effect. His flesh was like steel and his bone were stronger than any adamantium. A melta gunner, his weapon built into his armor by leaking hydraulic tubes and enveloping molds, barely missed the Wolf King. The radiating heat blackened his armor and lit his wolf pelt cloak ablaze, but seemed to have no other real effect. Three Plague Marines clutching repurposed flamers, now spewing liquid flesh that seemed to melt through substances like acid, opened fire as he came within their range.

Russ grabbed a nearby Terminator, this one hitting him with a barrage of fire from it's twin barreled autocannon, and held him up as a shield. When the Terminator began to melt, his armor slouching and losing its finer details as it dissolved, Russ hurled the Terminator into them. Two of the flamer wielding Plague Marines were dispatched, but one remained. Russ was drenched in the burning substance and came careening into a pile of rubble.

At that moment, Mortarion was upon him. He brought his fearsome scythe, a weapon known as the Manreaper, down on Russ. The Wolf King rolled over to dodge it and the Manreaper embedded in the concrete beside him. He snatched a nearby discarded bolter and opened fire one handed into Mortarion's face. The Plague King's respirator blew open, spraying a thick musky gas into his face. He stumbled, allowing Russ to kick his feet out. Grabbing Mortarion by his upper arm as he fell, Russ slammed him into the rubble beside him. Before he had even hit the ground, Mortarion blasted Russ with a bolt of decay from the palm of his hand. Parts of his chest plate rusted away as the flesh beneath withered and died.

Russ responded with a quick thrust to Mortarion's throat, causing him to vomit up something dark and syrupy. Gagging horribly, the Champion of Nurgh-leth drew a curved dagger from his belt and stabbed into Russ' eye. The weapon, dripping with venom and filth, went in deep. Mortarion had let his guard down as he attacked, putting too much faith in the blow. Then and there, Russ should've quietly expired as the blade pierced his brain.

Russ was no stranger to brain injuries. When he had first met the Emperor, miscommunication had resulted in him taking a powerfist to the face. Against the Xsspexithxill of K'aildor, he'd been hit head on by a lucky shot from an enemy mortar. As he had fought the XI Primarch, whose very existance had been stricken from all records, a krak grenade had somehow ended up in his mouth. And he couldn't forget the time a 28 story tower had collapsed on him during the Battle of Prospero.

Instead of quietly expiring, Russ smashed Mortarion's face with his powerfist. The weapon, wreathed in a thin film of electromagnetic energy, combined with his superhuman strength, did a great deal of damage. Mortarion was left with caved in skull; what was left of his rotted brain was leaking out. Captain Kargul, having just reached the melee, stabbed down towards the prone Russ. With his mere Astartes reflexes, the attack was intercepted easily by Russ. Grabbing Kargul's wrist, he steered the blow towards Mortarion. The blade stabbed through both of the Plague King's hearts and impaled his body to the ground.

One final blow to the face destroyed Mortarion's head, leaving a puddle of goo and the occasional skull fragment in it's place. As Mortarion left the state of undeath and truly died, his body seemed to dissipate. Some parts of it liquefied away, occasionally bubbling or hissing as they excited his corpse, while tens of thousands of flies and mosquitos took to the skies, forming a thick, buzzing cloud. Worms, maggots and other fleshy things clawed their way free of the Plague King's sticky flesh. A small, rotted squid made odd slurping noises as it exited his stomach.

Mortarion's body had been a host to a great deal of life, which now needed a new home. And what was better than Leman Russ, a being of similar statue and strength lying right next to them, with a gaping whole in his chest and a variety of other orifices to enter through. The Wolf King began to howl and writhe as the creatures swarmed him. He clawed furiously at the maggots burrowing beneath his flesh and buzzing mosquitos forced their way through his eye's pupils. As the creatures heightened their assault, Russ let out a horrid scream that no man should ever hear, let alone make. The screaming was soon cut off, as the slurping squid had chosen to force it's face down his throat.

Leman Russ, the Wolf King, the Emperor's Execution and Lord of the VI Legion, met his end gagging on a dead squid.

Rooh cool. Although I have to wonder if this doesn't set Mortarion as simply invincible.

Well I cant say Im a fan of this latest addition. I don`t mind changes to the fluff but this, well it dose not sit well with me

The battle between Montarion and Leman Russ reminded me of the battle between Mike Tyson and McNeily.

Russ (McNeily) went down faster than a twenty dollar hooker. The rest is solid though, as I especially loved Guilliman getting devoured by the Nids. And you have an oddly canonical backing there. In an old White Dwarf (end of the 90's) they fought the battle of Macragge, and the Ultras lost both battles. Of course it was ret-conned on the spot unfortunately.

The main weakness is how fast the Primarches fall, I mean Reboute fall within a second after meeting Fulgrim, and I already compared the match between Leman Russ and Montarion. If this continues then Horus will first strike down Sanguinius in one blow after haggling with him over Chaos, then comes Empy with a guardsman into the room, the guardsman dies as Horus stares hard at him, then Empy gets pissed and deals a mortal blow to Horus, who retaliates by mortally wounding Empy.

I'm not so sure about how evil Guilliman and Lion seems to be (Lion should be more clever as he seems more like Rabban the Beast of Dune-fame, while Guilliman I agree should be more opportunistic seems to be borderline treacherous there, but again you have actual backing from GW as the Ultramarines serves Ultramar first and the IOM second). While the Khan seem to be a cross between a Mongol warlord and a Hells Angel which I can accept as the man is known as a great conquer but a poor ruler.

Lorgar falls extremely easily to chaos, I mean I would have him hating Guilliman with a passion from before (I know there is little source behind this hatred except logic as shortly after he is told to emulate the legion he really hates), and Empy ordering his monuments shattered by the Ultramarines sends him spiraling into the arms of chaos as the last straw in addition to his rebuke of his worship which Lorgar took as a father rejecting his son.

That are general tips from me, all in all I like the read, and it's not ulcer-inducing as most things about Space Marines are.

Yo, don't have much time right now, but I have skimmed through your guys' comments and agree with most of what you say. I will fix a lot of the gak in here the next time I'm on Dakka.

Thanks for the honest constructive criticism!

And, just to clarify one thing; Mortarion isn't immortal. He just was killed damn quick, but all the viruses and bacteria and mold and bugs that lived in him attacked Leman. I'll clarify that, and also make the fight longer and better.

So yeah, I'll fix a lotta stuff when I get back.

Beaviz81 wrote:The battle between Montarion and Leman Russ reminded me of the battle between Mike Tyson and McNeily.

Russ (McNeily) went down faster than a twenty dollar hooker. The rest is solid though, as I especially loved Guilliman getting devoured by the Nids. And you have an oddly canonical backing there. In an old White Dwarf (end of the 90's) they fought the battle of Macragge, and the Ultras lost both battles. Of course it was ret-conned on the spot unfortunately.

The main weakness is how fast the Primarches fall, I mean Reboute fall within a second after meeting Fulgrim, and I already compared the match between Leman Russ and Montarion. If this continues then Horus will first strike down Sanguinius in one blow after haggling with him over Chaos, then comes Empy with a guardsman into the room, the guardsman dies as Horus stares hard at him, then Empy gets pissed and deals a mortal blow to Horus, who retaliates by mortally wounding Empy.

I'm not so sure about how evil Guilliman and Lion seems to be (Lion should be more clever as he seems more like Rabban the Beast of Dune-fame, while Guilliman I agree should be more opportunistic seems to be borderline treacherous there, but again you have actual backing from GW as the Ultramarines serves Ultramar first and the IOM second). While the Khan seem to be a cross between a Mongol warlord and a Hells Angel which I can accept as the man is known as a great conquer but a poor ruler.

Lorgar falls extremely easily to chaos, I mean I would have him hating Guilliman with a passion from before (I know there is little source behind this hatred except logic as shortly after he is told to emulate the legion he really hates), and Empy ordering his monuments shattered by the Ultramarines sends him spiraling into the arms of chaos as the last straw in addition to his rebuke of his worship which Lorgar took as a father rejecting his son.

That are general tips from me, all in all I like the read, and it's not ulcer-inducing as most things about Space Marines are.

I've edited the Russ entry a helluva lot, as well as the fight. I'll fix up the Lion's and Lorgar's entries tonite.

EDIT: I'm also looking for advice for Sanguinius. I'm not really sure how to write him; to me he seems like a perfect, loyal angel who was perfect in every way and would be regarded as a Mary Sue if he hadn't been killed off. Here's list of facts about him.

1. He has angel wings and is known as the Angel.
2. He can see the future.
3. Horus insisted that he was the best Primarch and should've been the Warmaster.
4. The Imperium loved him.
5. All of the other Legions loved him.
6. Horus feared Sanguinius more than any of the other loyalist Primarchs.
7. He killed the most powerful Bloodthirster and Khornite Daemon of all time.
8. He kept the Traitors from breaching the Imperium Palace and saved the Emperor's life, despite the fact that it was Rogal Dorn's job (poor Dorn).
9. He saved the Emperor's life again by creating a chink in Horus' armor.
10. Even 10,000 years after his death, he is still revered by the Imperium.

You can argue that a lot of Primarchs (especially the loyalists) are Mary Sues, but Sanguinius is one without a doubt. I'm trying to figure out a weakness for him or a way for him to not be so Sueish without completely redoing his character. I was considering making him a temperamental, loyalist equivalent to Angron, but he's supposed to be gentle and humane. So I considered making his psychic powers a weakness of some sort, but then I read that his soul is incorruptible and pure.

feth, I'm considering writing him as the complete opposite just to spite Blood Angels fans, but that'd be just as bad. One of the very first rules of writing is to not antagonize potential readers.

I think the answers a bit obvious - arrogance. Someone that gets that much love and praise is bound to fall short of being humble.

His weakness could be his opponents casting aspersions on his character, or better yet, his marines, his 'children'. Sure, he's no Fulgrim when it comes to chasing perfection, and he's not a petulant little child - he's strong and devout, like some kind of warrior monk or something.

You could draw a comparison between him creating this chink in Horus' armour, and Horus creating a chink in Sanguinus' pride by baiting him with flase truths that made him attack in haste, giving Horus the opening he needed to fell the Emperors beloved Angel. Perhaps Horus had daemonic assistance in damping Sanguinus' ability to see the future - yeah, that's it I reckon, daemonic assistance in withering Sanguinus' ablities, or planting an illusion in Sanguinus' mind that makes him think his skin is melting, he's starting to look like Mortarion, anything that brings him down a peg or two. Could be that Sangy was always a better fighter than Horus, but was defeated ultimately by his own desire for praise? The Emp saw him get bitch slapped to the ground and Sangy gave up out of humiliation or something.

In a nut shell, vanity and arrogance. Not enough to rival Fulgrim (otherwise the daemonic possession thing could've happened to ol' Sangy too) but a big enough part of his character to rule him.

You're right; I was looking at it the wrong way. He's not the loyalist equivalent to Angron; he's the loyalist equivalent to Fulgrim. I will have the Sanguinius entry written up within the next 10 hours.

Thanks Kitch!

Anytime chief!

Sanguinius, Lord of the IX Legion

In the 41st millennium, Sanguinius is known as a martyr and a great hero. Referred to as the Angel, most Imperial citizens have some variation of the belief that he saved the Emperor in his hour of need. They do not believe that he saved the Emperor from Horus, as most citizens aren't aware of the Horus Heresy. Most don't even know of the existence of Chaos Space Marines unless they have the misfortune to encounter them. According to many Priests, the Angel is still alive, protecting Terra from any that would dare defy the rule of the omnipotent, all powerful God Emperor.

In reality, Sanguinius died at Horus' hands on the bridge of the Vengeful Spirit in a great deal of pain.

When the Chaos Gods flung the Primarchs across the galaxy, Sanguinius came to land on the world of Baal Secondus, where he was adopted by a tribe known as the People of the Pure Blood. Unlike his brothers, Sanguinius sported a pair of great feathery wings on his back. For this he was known as the Angel. The People of the Pure Blood came to revere him as a god for this, as well as his super human body and his limited ability to divine the future (which was shared by his brothers Lorgar, Magnus, Corax and Curze). He led his tribe to vanquish all their enemies and conquer the desert world of Baal Secondus as well as helping them to advance their primitive society. They came to revere him even more and the Angel soon grew accustomed to godlike treatment.

The Emperor arrived on the fourth year of Sanguinius' rule, and though he almost immediately accepted the Emperor's offer, it is said that he was somewhat saddened to learn that he wasn't quite as special as he thought he was. He was but one of twenty other Primarchs, born to an even more powerful Father, rather than the God he'd come to view himself as. Nevertheless, he swallowed his pride and served the Emperor well. None of the Primarchs were more devoted to the ideal of a safe and secure galaxy free of xenos tyranny than Sanguinius himself. His Legion, the Blood Angels, became somewhat famous as the protector of the poor and the downtrodden after liberating a series of Imperial worlds from Ork oppression with limited civilian causalities.

In the Angel's dreams many of the Chaos Gods came to him, tempting him greatly. Tzeentch spoke to him of leading a great rebellion against the Emperor and taking the title for himself, like he deserved; should a god like Sanguinius live out his entire life within his father's shadow? Using a similar approach, Slaanesh argued to him that he'd earned all of the galaxy's many vices and should just relax. Even lesser Chaos Gods, such as Mo'rcck and Svsith whispered to him in tumultuous dreams. Ixel, the Chaos God of Fear, screamed to him that the Emperor was plotting to kill him out of jealousy.

No matter how tempting they were, Sanguinius heeded none of them. His duty was to the Great Crusade and the Emperor. It is said that when the Horus Heresy broke out the Emperor said to him, "What would you do if I asked you to die for me, fighting your own brothers?" At the time, the Chaos God's voices were louder in his mind than ever before, insisting that now was the perfect time to betray the Imperium. Sanguinius answered "Die, my liege."

The Emperor sent Sanguinius to the world of Signus Prime, to cripple a World Eater's strike force heading towards Luna. If they managed to reach Terra's only moon they'd certainly conquer it (despite the last minute reinforcements courtesy of Dorn). The World Eaters were led by Ka'Bandha, Khorne's greatest Bloodthirster and one of his most powerful servants (second to only the Daemon Prince Doombreed). He seemed to radiate malice and rage, violating the minds of Imperials who stood too close to him and leaving them hollow shells of their former selves. Even Astartes weren't immune to his foul influence; they became ravening beasts within his presence, sometimes even growing spiky mutations or fusing with their weapons.

Sanguinius made a plan to dispatch the World Eaters, betting it all on his ability to take out Ka'Bandha. He believed that he could slay the Bloodthirster with ease. After all he was Sanguinius, the Angel, a god in his own right. None could stand before him. He had had a fuzzy vision of him breaking Ka'Bandha's back, though he noted that the sky was a dark grey in the vision, despite Signus Prime's red skies.

He was mistaken. Ka'Bandha bested him in single combat and would've killed him, had he not been too busy rampaging through the Blood Angel's ranks. According to some accounts of the battle, Ka'Bandha stabbed some Blood Angels in the more intricate organs of their geneseed but left them alive. Reportedly he even tore the helm off of 1st Captain Gabriel and vomited blood down his throat before continuing his mad rampage. A Dreadnought, later vanquished by an Ork Weirdboy in the 33rd millennium, claimed that he was entombed after he was "force-fed his own legs by a great Bloodthirster during the Slaughter at Signus". The full extent of the damage done to the Blood Angels at Signus Prime is unknown, but many believe that Ka'Bandha is responsible for the Black Rage.

Sanguinius returned to Terra humiliated, his Legion in shambles. Luna was lost within days and with Mars conquered by the Dark Mechanicum, Terra was alone. The Imperial Fists, masters of siege warfare, had fortified the entire world while the Blood Angels and White Scars had mustered their Legions around the Imperial Palace. The Space Wolves and the Dark Angels were rumored to be on their way, but in all likelihood the Traitor Legions would reach Terra first. Even if the Space Wolves and Dark Angels could reach the Emperor on time, odds are that they wouldn't make too much a difference. The loyalists would still be outnumbered greatly.

The Angel led the defense, refusing to fall victim to his own despair. Though Dorn's fortifications failed, Sanguinius was able to hold the Traitors back from the Imperial Palace for days on end. He kept the morale of the Imperial Guard and Arbite forces high, giving rousing speeches even as the Palace fell under heavy bombardments and the men were struggling to hold the gate. Ka'Bandha attacked again, but Sanguinius did not make the mistake of facing him alone twice. He sought out the Bloodthirster and lured him to an area close outside the Palace, where he was within range of an Imperial Fists post. As Ka'Bandha charged the Angel, he fell under heavy lascannon fire. One of his wings was punctured heavily and he fell to the ground. Landing atop him, Sanguinius impaled him through the chest in the midst of a pack of Daemonettes. Seeing one of Khorne's greatest servants lying prone, the Slaaneshi Daemons couldn't resist. They fell upon the weakened Ka'Bandha, attacking him from all sides and angles. Though he managed to fend them off, the Bloodthirster was greatly weakened. He came at Sanguinius again with a clumsy swing of his axe, which the Primarch easily dodged. Sanguinius grappled with him and managed to slam Ka'Bandha's back against the crumbling wall of a Cathedral, breaking his spine.

In one final act of spite, he twisted his neck to the side until his spine severed completely, stealing Sanguinius' kill (LoneLictah says, "Did you know it is medically possible for a human with a spinal injury to do what Ka'Bandha did? That's why paramedics yell at you to lie still after a car crash."). It is possible he believed Sanguinius used dirty tactics and didn't really win the fight, so Ka'Bandha was simply determined to not let him get the final blow. Some Khornite Daemons are known for their twisted sense of 'honor'.

Sanguinius died aboard the Vengeful Spirit in mortal combat with Horus. According to some Imperial Scholars Sanguinius foresaw his own death and chose to fight Horus anyways. In any case, Sanguinius was one of the Primarchs most skilled in close combat and it is entirely possible he could have bested Horus in a fair fight. Even if Horus had won, he would've likely been too injured to stand a chance against the Emperor. Fortunately for Horus, as the Angel reached the Vengeful Spirit's bridge, daemonic voices and visions assailed his mind. He saw his skin melting away and his body bloating with festering disease until he had taken on a form not unlike Mortarion's as leering creatures screamed to him of how his brothers were superior to him in every way. Angron was stronger, Corax was faster, Magnus was more psychically attuned and the list goes on. Something in the Emperor's voice declared that he was a pathetic, mewling excuse for a Primarch. The Imperium will remember you, it said, as the self proclaimed Angel who failed on Signus and then again on Terra. His leg appeared as though it was still shattered by Ka'Bandha, when in fact the wound had long since healed.

Screaming, Sanguinius charged straight towards Horus. He struck the Warmaster in his stomach plate, creating a chink in his armor but otherwise failing to wound him. The voices and visions cleared, revealing that he had impaled himself on the crackling talons of Horus' lightning claw. The Angel slipped off of the weapon and expired on the cold, steel floor.

Coming up next is a little story thingy about the Battle of Signus prime, written in 3rd person from the perspective of Sanguinius IN MAGICAL ITALICS with lots of gore an' stuff.

Cracking read, I especially love the bit where you theorize on the origins of the black rage. The idea of the wonderful Blood Angels actually carrying daemonic something or other inside of them is simply brilliant.

Lines such as "fed him his own legs" are epic additions too

Tell me Angel, what angers you?

Did it anger you when the Emperor slew your beloved brothers of the II and XI Legions?

Thirteen hours of pitched warfare had left Signus Prime an endless wasteland of blasted, rock-strewn fields and tides of rushing blood. Warriors fought for positions atop piles of corpses, with new bodies being added to the pile as fast the blood swept the old ones away. The Blood Angels that hadn't yet fallen to the frothing mass that blighted their kin struggled to hold formation as wave after wave of Berzerkers crashed against them. The flaming remnants of once Great Cathedrals were gradually eroded away by the rising currents of blood. Havoc teams within frantically ascended spiraling staircases and clanking elevators in the fight for higher ground. Two opposing factions of skull obsessed, highly volatile supermen fought for the future of the human race as the galaxy burnt around them.

Did it anger you when the Emperor appointed Horus as the Warmaster, believing him infinitely better suited to the task than yourself?

Sanguinius fit his title of the Angel well. He was a tall, muscular figure born aloft on feathery wings and armored in shining gold plate. His face was handsome and boyish, something unusual for a person of his position. Ka'Bandha, a towering behemoth of red musculature, wispy black smoke trailing his leathery winged form, looked like a daemonic reflection of the Primarch. His face was that of an ugly man's, slanted forward and with a mouth full of yellow fangs to give him a more feral appearance. His twitching, bloodshot eyes lacked pupils. Spiraling ram horns emerged from the sides of his head where his ears should've been, while a pair of smaller more devilish horns appeared slightly above his eyebrows.

Did it anger you when your own father chose Horus over you to become the Warmaster?

Their fall was gaining speed. Pinned beneath Ka'Bandha, Sanguinius was unable to fly properly and Ka'Bandha was unwilling to. The Bloodthirster held onto Sanguinius' armor's collar with one hand as he pummeled his way with the other. They were descending fast enough for the blood leaking from Sanguinius' mouth to seemingly shoot straight up away from him. Ka'Bandha leaned in closer and unhinged his maw above the Angel's, allowing the blood to stream right into his mouth. Sanguinius' head fell back limply, allowing him a glance at the world below him. The ground was getting closer; they'd hit it any second now.

Did it anger you when the Emperor came to Baal and expected you to live and die for him without reward?

Ka'Bandha had been holding Sanguinius' back to the ground, so that he was facing above. Flapping his wings slightly, but not nearly enough to slow their fall, he positioned the Angel and himself in a more upright position. His face twisting into a toothy grin, he held Sanguinius in a mocking embrace and pushed the Primarch slightly below him, putting a cloven hoof atop a ceramite, golden knee. Streaming blood slicked Sanguinius' face as it shot upward. Even now, beaten within an inch of life and with his deepest insecurities brought to front by the sneering daemonic voices, he refused to surrender. He put his hands around Bloodthirster's bull neck and squeezed as he desperately flapped his wings. Still leering, Ka'Bandha spat a mouthful of gory bile onto his face.

Will this anger you?

He hit the ground hard, feet first. All of Ka'Bandha's weight and momentum came crushing down on the Angel's knee. Ceramite shattered and bone splintered. This was the first time that the Angel, in all his superhuman glory, had ever been truly injured; this was the first time he'd ever felt true pain. In the din battle he'd been shot and stabbed many times before, but those were superficial wounds at best. He was capable of silently enduring what would kill a normal man ten times over. But this was a new sensation. Sanguinius had finally been hit with a wound fit for a Primarch.

Or is a pretty faced blondie like you only capable of fear?

They had come to land atop a jagged, rocky hill cutting through the blood ocean. Sanguinius came tumbling down the ashy slope, grit clinging his leg's exposed wounds. Ka'Bandha whipped him as he fell, watching him roll until he came to rest at the edge of the blood. A wave splashed his trembling form.

I find that letting a manling like yourself die would be far too merciful. Khorne is the Lord and Wrath and I find that only your deepest and most horrible torment would satisfy mine. Angel, you deserve a long, fulfilling life wherein your innermost fears can flay your mind for years to come. Though your leg will appear to heal, this wound I have left you with will always fester.

"No life could be worse than yours. Tell me, how does it feel to be something incapable of happiness, only rage? No matter what you do or who you will, the Blood God will ensure your life is one of abject misery," Sanguinius said with pure spite in his voice. "If you truly believe that you can kill a god like me, go ahead and try it."

Let your hate fill you, Angel. It could do a pathetic creature like you some good.