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I notice in nearly every piece of Iron Warriors fluff, something is made out to be about how much they hate the Imperial Fists. Yes, I get Dorn and Perturabo had a big rivalry and an argument. But really, that's it. It ends there. Meanwhile, other legions that have been far more slighted by their former brethren seem to take things more in stride. Now of course the exception here is the Thousand Sons and Space Wolves, but given the Burning of Prospero and the Battle of the Fang I take this hatred a bit justifiable.
But for instance, the Iron Hands do not seem to have a special loathing for the Emperor's Children from what I've seen. And yet they suffered far worse at the hands of Fulgrim then Perturabo and Dorn. The same applies to the Blood Angels, whose great enemy seems to be Ka'Bandha for injuring Sanguinius at Signus Prime rather then Horus/Black Legion for actually killing the guy. Fulgrim basically killed Guilliman, yet the Ultramarines harbor no special hatred for the Emperor's Children. The Word Bearers and Ultramarines have a fierce history of conflict in the Heresy, from when Lorgar was forced to kneel to the Battle of Calth. And yet the Ultramarines don't seem to hold the Word Bearers with any particular loathing and the WB's seem to only have a minor grudge towards them (using Gulliman as more of an insult in the Dark Apostle trilogy for instance rather then obsessing over getting back at him). The Death Guard and White Scars fought mainly each other in the Battle of Terra according to Index Astartes, and yet nothing special exists between them there. And speaking of the White Scars, they don't have a special obsession or hatred for the Dark Eldar despite Jaghatai Khan being sucked into the Webway fighting them.
Hell, even the Imperial Fists seem more peeved at the Iron Warriors then the CSM who killed Dorn, whoever they were.
This message was edited 3 times. Last update was at 2012/10/10 02:13:10
My Armies:
5,500pts 2,700pts 2,000pts
2012/10/09 21:15:17
Subject: Re:Are the Iron Warriors just being babies?
The Fists got all the glory while the Iron Warriors continued to bleed in the trenches of a thousand god forsaken worlds.
Such things can make a man quite bitter.
Since most space marines seem to have the emotional maturity of a child ( which isn't too suprising considering the circumstances of their recruitment ) it shouldn't
be too suprising that mere bitterness turned into outright hatred.
2012/10/09 21:30:45
Subject: Re:Are the Iron Warriors just being babies?
Space Marines in general, love to hate. Of course the Iron Hands hate the EC, they betrayed them and killed their primarch. Similarly the Blood Angels hate Abaddon and the Black Legion... and the Word Bearers hate the Ultras. dark angels hate the fallen dark angels as well...
These chapters usually have opposing themes, so it's like cat vs. dog for most of them.
Harriticus wrote: Hell, even the Imperial Fists seem more peeved at the Iron Warriors then the CSM who killed Dorn, whoever they were.
The Iron Warriors humiliated Dorn by luring him into an obvious trap at the Iron Cage and beating him at his own game, slaughtering a huge number of Imperial Fists in the process. They were only saved when the Ultramarines, the guys who they had been ready to go to war with, swooped in to rescue them, adding further humiliation. Worst of all, Dorn knows knows that the entire affair was mostly his fault.
The situation probably wasn't helped when an entire company of fists failed in their mission and were killed by Iron Warriors in the siege on Hydra Cordatus.
Poor Imperial Fists can never seem to catch a break in the fluff.
For what it's worth, Honsou's hatred of the Imperial Fists actually makes sense; as somebody mocked and degraded for having Imperial Fist gene seed, he's pretty ticked off about them.
This message was edited 3 times. Last update was at 2012/10/09 23:50:18
Harriticus wrote: Hell, even the Imperial Fists seem more peeved at the Iron Warriors then the CSM who killed Dorn, whoever they were.
The Iron Warriors humiliated Dorn by luring him into an obvious trap at the Iron Cage and beating him at his own game, slaughtering a huge number of Imperial Fists in the process. They were only saved when the Ultramarines, the guys who they had been ready to go to war with, swooped in to rescue them, adding further humiliation. Worst of all, Dorn knows knows that the entire affair was mostly his fault.
The situation probably wasn't helped when an entire company of fists failed in their mission and were killed by Iron Warriors in the siege on Hydra Cordatus.
Poor Imperial Fists can never seem to catch a break in the fluff.
For what it's worth, Honsou's hatred of the Imperial Fists actually makes sense; as somebody mocked and degraded for having Imperial Fist gene seed, he's pretty ticked off about them.
Still man, IF's seem a lot more pissed then the unknown warband that killed Dorn (the fact they're unknown to readers still is telling enough). I'd think those who killed the guy would be treated with more hate then the ones who humiliated him....
My Armies:
5,500pts 2,700pts 2,000pts
2012/10/10 01:59:11
Subject: Re:Are the Iron Warriors just being babies?
Perhaps their hatred for the Fists is overemphasized to show they are obsessive, possessed of an iron will to see something through. I also notice that when a chaos planet gets besieged over a long period, it is almost always an Iron Warriors fortress world. Shows their theme has an aptitude for long, drawn out conflicts.
But I hope they are being babies. Then I can cuddle them to cheer them up.
This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2012/10/10 01:59:53
Perturabo has always gotten the short end of the stick when it came to his brother Primarchs. He harbors resentment for a lot of them because he never gets a lot of credit.
I don't think it has been mentioned yet but it isn't just an argument between Dorn and Perturabo that started it, it is that both forces boasted that they were the best at siege warfare.
Fafnir wrote: Oh, I certainly vote with my dollar, but the problem is that that is not enough. The problem with the 'vote with your dollar' response is that it doesn't take into account why we're not buying the product. I want to enjoy 40k enough to buy back in. It was my introduction to traditional games, and there was a time when I enjoyed it very much. I want to buy 40k, but Gamesworkshop is doing their very best to push me away, and simply not buying their product won't tell them that.
2012/10/10 11:08:21
Subject: Re:Are the Iron Warriors just being babies?
CuddlySquig wrote: Perhaps their hatred for the Fists is overemphasized to show they are obsessive, possessed of an iron will to see something through. I also notice that when a chaos planet gets besieged over a long period, it is almost always an Iron Warriors fortress world. Shows their theme has an aptitude for long, drawn out conflicts.
Pretty much this. Iron Warriors are known for being paranoid and obsessive, its one of their inherited traits. Dorn and the Fists were who they had a rivalry with, and over 10,000 its just got more bitter. Sure, its not as personal as some grudges, but thats the thing about grudges and feuds - to an outsider they look petty and rediculous, but to the individuals involved its important and all-consuming.
Harriticus wrote: Hell, even the Imperial Fists seem more peeved at the Iron Warriors then the CSM who killed Dorn, whoever they were.
The Iron Warriors humiliated Dorn by luring him into an obvious trap at the Iron Cage and beating him at his own game, slaughtering a huge number of Imperial Fists in the process. They were only saved when the Ultramarines, the guys who they had been ready to go to war with, swooped in to rescue them, adding further humiliation. Worst of all, Dorn knows knows that the entire affair was mostly his fault.
The situation probably wasn't helped when an entire company of fists failed in their mission and were killed by Iron Warriors in the siege on Hydra Cordatus.
Poor Imperial Fists can never seem to catch a break in the fluff.
For what it's worth, Honsou's hatred of the Imperial Fists actually makes sense; as somebody mocked and degraded for having Imperial Fist gene seed, he's pretty ticked off about them.
This is the version told by the Iron Warriors, that the Fists were soundly beaten blah blah blah. The Imperial Fist version goes that the Iron Warriors lacked the balls and capability to actually finish off the Fists, who met and repelled every attack that the Iron Warriors could throw at them.
And it was more of a squad of Imperial Fists at Hydra Cordatus rather than a company I am pretty sure.
With the Fists and the Iron Warriors it is rivalry, they are both seen the best at what they do and their Primarchs dislike of each other spread down throughout the legions. It's also to do with the siege of the palace, it was with the guidance of the Iron Warriors that the walls were breached, they used their expertise to bring down everything that the Fists believed in.
I think one thing that bears mention is that Iron Warriors seem to largely be inherently very sadistic and sinister.
Think about the battle of Istvaan V, how even the Daemon-possessed Word Bearers found their utter glee at bombing the gak out of Loyalists and traitors alike with impunity disgusting, and how much Perturabo seemed to enjoy tormenting Dorn in the Iron Cage, delighted at humiliating his brother, deliberately prolonging his suffering when it would have been wiser to not do so.
The Iron Warriors aren't babies. Just profoundly evil.
The Iron Warriors aren't babies. Just profoundly evil.
Not quite...I can't remember which novel it's from, but I remember one time during the Horus Heresy when Iron Warriors led by Perturabo himself going to a meeting with the Emperor's Children were disgusted/horrified by the depravity and twisted nature of the Emperor's Children and their mortal followers, with a shocked Perturabo himself wondering what had happened to Fulgrim.
This message was edited 2 times. Last update was at 2012/10/11 08:51:50
I should have left him there. He had served his purpose. He owed me nothing - yet he gave himself to me willingly. Why? I know not. He is nothing more than a pathetic human. An inferior race. A mon-keigh. But still I broke off my wings so that I might carry him easier. I took him from that place, into the snowstorm where our tracks will not be found. He is heavy. And he is dying. And he is slowing me down. But I will save him. Why? I know not. He is still warm. I can feel his blood ebbing across me. For every beat of his heart, another, slight spill of heat. The heat blows away on the winter wind. His blood is still warm. But fading. And I have spilled scarlet myself. The snow laps greedily at our footsteps and our lifeblood, covering them without a trace as we fade away.
'She sat on the corner, gulping the soup down, uncaring of the heat of it. They had grown more watery as of late she noted, but she wasn't about to beggar food from the Imperials or the "Bearers of the Word." Tau, despite their faults at least didn't have a kill policy for her race.'
But then the Emperor's Children set the bar very low.
From Angel Exterminatus...
Spoiler:
The forward elements of the capering host were drawing near, and coils of hallucinogenic fogs writhed between the legs of the riotous assembly. It moved with a life of its own, eager to explore its creators' bodies and taste their sweat, their breath and their dirt. The screams that reached to the skies were delirious and joyous, agonised and ecstatic, a braying wall of sound that echoed from the sides of the valley like the raving of a million madman.
Scarifier priests spun and leapt throughout the dancing horde, their hooked chains and envenomed blades whipping and stabbing with gleeful abandon to cause pain and excruciation. Where their poisoned tips pierced an artery, the grateful victim would be seized by mad choreomaniacal fits. Roaring observers aped their lethal convulsions and the dancing mania spread ever wider, becoming more and more elaborate until the original victim's madly-pumping heart emptied their body and a new dance began elsewhere.
Mass psychogenic hysteria gripped the thousands of men and women, who screamed and laughed and cried like mourners or celebrants. They fought, they fornicated; moving to the rapid, pulsing beat of a driving imperative that none among the Iron Warriors could know. They carried towering banners, streaming gonfalons and serrated pennants ablaze with imagery that was at once obscene and alluring, repugnant and inviting.
Forrix recognised none of the heraldry, feeling a gut-deep revulsion at the graceful sweeps of the symbols worked into the textured banners. A meld of curves and voluptuous arcs penetrated by hard lines with barbed arrowheads atop their length. Nor were all the members of the host equal; kings and queens and princes were feted in all their finery; silks and steel, velvet and leather. Their crowns were bone, their orbs the skulls of willing sacrifices, and the sceptres the woven finger bones of the handless handmaidens attending them.
And just as there were the gaudy courts of royal madness, so too were there regicides by the dozen as pretenders tore them down and took their bloodied crowns for themselves.
As degenerate as the dancing host's behaviour was, it was nothing compared to the physical malformations wrought on the flesh of its number. Some disfigurements appeared to be congenital, others the work of swords or maces in ritualised combat, but the vast majority appeared to have been engineered by scalpels, bone saws and genetic modification.
Men with anatomies reversed by horrific surgery capered on their hands, with legs sutured to their shoulders and faces in their bellies. Vat-grown cherub-grubs led packs of wild, spine-backed creatures, like the bastard by-blows of loathsome centipedes and giant scorpions. Women cavorted naked with scented oils slathering their bared breasts. Many of these women were gifted with breasts beyond the number decreed by nature, and these violet-hued individuals were attended by howling slaves and weeping devotees.
Amid the heaving, spasming march of the decadent host, some were content to dance, some to debase, others to violate, yet more to scream their throats bloody as they drove their bodies to lunatic extremes of excess. They howled with the hybrid monsters and the most desperate for sensation set themselves ablaze and laughed as the flames consumed them.
Forrix took his helmet from the mag-lock on his thigh as the rapturous mass of degenerates drew near and the acrid tang of perfumes began to discomfit him.
'I saw some strange things on Isstvan, but this is...' began Forrix, snapping his helm into the gorget seals as vocabulary failed him. No mere words could give name or reason to this behaviour, no codes of honour could reconcile this madness with the militaristic perfection and arrogant swagger the Emperor's Children had once possessed.
'What has happened to you, my brother?' wondered Perturabo, his face betraying no hint of the terrible anger that must surely be raging within his heart.
'Where are the legion warriors?' asked Falk.
Forrix scanned the heaving mass of frenetic humanity as they spilled over the outermost earthworks; cavorting through razorwire-edged killing grounds, across spiked ditches and past iron-faced gun emplacements. What would take months of bloody siege to break through was overcome in moments by the vanguard of the Emperor's Children.
At some unheard signal, the host fell utterly silent, halting in its maddened march a stone's throw from the Iron Warriors. Clouds of kicked up dust mingled with the twitching curtain of narcotic smoke issuing from hidden censers. After so cacophonous a din, the silence felt impossibly loud, and Forrix scanned the sweating, breathless host for some sign of what was coming next.
That sign came as the lunatics abased themselves on the sand, prostrating themselves as supplicant savages before burning flora. Soltarn Vull Bronn dropped to one knee, placing his palm on the earth.
'Get up, damn you,' snapped Forrix. 'Iron Warriors bend the knee to no-one.'
Vull Bronn ignored him and cocked his head to one side, as though listening to a voice only he could hear.
'He's here,' said Bronn. 'The Phoenician. He's coming.'
Forrix looked up as the flesh host before him parted, pushing themselves back with their bellies scraping the sand to make a wide corridor between them. Through the swirls of pink and mauve clouds, Forrix could see the outline of something huge and swaying approaching. Vague silhouettes of power-armoured warriors marched alongside it, their forms granting some hope that the III Legion had not abandoned all pretence of being a fighting force.
Fifty warriors in the shimmering purple of the Emperor's Children emerged from the smoke, and their appearance drew a gasp of shock from the assembled Iron Warriors. Slashes of vivid pigment were spattered over their armour, the myriad contrasting hues and clashing colours offending the eye with their garish disregard for the legion's heraldry. Jagged spikes jutted from pauldrons and their helmets were byzantine winged affairs, with amplification hoods and intensifiers worked into the visors.
They carried a banner of stiff pink that Forrix could tell was fashioned from human skin, its texture and stench all too familiar to him. A runic form was emblazoned at its heart, the recurring motif he had seen worked in various forms upon the armour and flesh of the maddened horde, but distilled into its purest form. Borne by legion warriors, the symbol offended Forrix less than it had before, and he found himself drawn towards its beguiling curves and graceful loops.
Anger touched him, and he threw off whatever glamours were worked into its form.
Glamours?
Where had that come from? A word of ancient usage that was meaningless in this age of reason and technological certitude. Whatever toxin burned in the censers was a powerful psychotropic indeed if it could drag such an archaic term from the mind of an Iron Warrior.
Like the mortals before them, these warriors parted to form an honour guard, and behind them came a screaming, wailing mass of legionaries whose weapons were unlike anything Forrix had ever seen in a battle barge's armoury. Like oversized axes they were fitted with all manner of amplification devices, tonal distorters and artefacts whose function Forrix could not even begin to guess.
Thrumming bass notes of raw kinetic force throbbed in their long necks, and Forrix wondered if such weapons might be employed in the reduction of a fortress wall. These warriors went without helms, and their faces were a horror of distended jaws with eternally screaming mouths and gaping wounds in the skull where their ears had been surgically adapted to collect and render sound into its purest elements.
And then the primarch of the Emperor's Children stood revealed, his entrance as dramatic and sudden and shocking as he had no doubt intended.
Atop a vast palanquin of living beings fused, sewn and warped together, the Phoenician emerged from the sentient clouds of fumes. A squad of warriors in Cataphractii armour bore this flesh palanquin on the vast shoulder guards of their armour, the spikes and sharpened edges of their pauldrons drawing blood and screams of pleasure in equal measure.
Fulgrim's frost-white hair spilled from beneath a helm of dazzling silver, and his entire body was wrapped in a cloak of shocking purple and golden feathers. Motion rippled beneath the cloak, like a metamorphic larva on the verge of hatching into the most beautiful creature imaginable. Fulgrim waited until his Phoenix Guard halted before throwing open his cloak to reveal his sculpturally perfect body. His elegantly curved pectorals, rolling deltoids and ridged abdominals were bare of armour and gleamed with fragrant oils. His limbs writhed and fresh tattoos of coiling serpents; tattoos that even now began to fade as his superhuman biology undid the damage to his epidermis.
Perturabo stepped towards the living platform as Fulgrim descended on a ramp of shields held out by his warriors. Forrix saw a warrior in perfect balance, who understood his body and its articulation to the highest degree. His every step was carefully placed, giving the lie to his flamboyant appearance.
'Brother Fulgrim,' said Perturabo, 'Welcome.'
I should have left him there. He had served his purpose. He owed me nothing - yet he gave himself to me willingly. Why? I know not. He is nothing more than a pathetic human. An inferior race. A mon-keigh. But still I broke off my wings so that I might carry him easier. I took him from that place, into the snowstorm where our tracks will not be found. He is heavy. And he is dying. And he is slowing me down. But I will save him. Why? I know not. He is still warm. I can feel his blood ebbing across me. For every beat of his heart, another, slight spill of heat. The heat blows away on the winter wind. His blood is still warm. But fading. And I have spilled scarlet myself. The snow laps greedily at our footsteps and our lifeblood, covering them without a trace as we fade away.
'She sat on the corner, gulping the soup down, uncaring of the heat of it. They had grown more watery as of late she noted, but she wasn't about to beggar food from the Imperials or the "Bearers of the Word." Tau, despite their faults at least didn't have a kill policy for her race.'
I don't think the Iron Warriors are evil, they just stopped caring about anything. Everyone had taken a dump on them, including themselves, they were scattered and broken long before any other Legion and even their own homeworld didn't want them.
The HH short story with the crippled Warsmith shows the pre-Heresy mindset of the Iron Warriors pretty well; if you're coming down here to cause trouble, we'll shove you in a meat grinder and then turn the handle hard.
I think the Iron warriors reasons are perhaps more valid then most others imagine in the real world you and say bob do a job, you stay late every night and work really hard but bob is the first out the door at finishing time every night. Then a chance of a promotion comes up and bob gets it then gloats about it to you this is how Perturabo must have felt to do such a vital but thankless job not earning victory laurels and praise like his brothers! having plenty of time to think like most would in his position that he is being used whilst his biggest rival gets the enormous honor of showing their skills to the person you want the approval of most when you believe you are the best at what you do.
2012/12/31 01:32:48
Subject: Re:Are the Iron Warriors just being babies?
Waiting for my shill money from Spiral Arm Studios
the entire Horus Heresy was a big teenage rebellion. Why should the Iron Warriors be exempted from the Angst.
Self-proclaimed evil Cat-person. Dues Ex Felines
Cato Sicarius, after force feeding Captain Ventris a copy of the Codex Astartes for having the audacity to play Deathwatch, chokes to death on his own D-baggery after finding Calgar assembling his new Eldar army.
Second, they are above all thing spiteful, paranoiac, and egomaniacal. Hatred itself is reason enough to hate. Dorn and the IF were just similar enough to the IW to draw the latter's innate suspicion and envy in greater measure than the other legions and primarchs. The grudge does not flow from some specific slight, real or imagined, but rather from their very nature.
BlaxicanX wrote: The Iron Warriors weren't the only Legion that got shafted of glory during the Great Crusade.
I really wish people would stop bringing that up, as if it was some kind of valid slight.
"Waaaah we do so much work and no one acknowledges us. :( :( :("
Pretty sure these are grown men. Even if that were a valid reason to be resentful, to carry that bitterness for over 10,000 years is moronic.
How about, Waaah, we are slaves to some uncaring dictator who uses us as little more than canonfodder and garision troops. Let's kill the tyrant!
All the Marines were.
Yet, only the whiniest of them turned.
Dude, you always make me laugh with your simple spear of truth....cheers
Automatically Appended Next Post:
Manchu wrote: First, the IW are most certainly evil.
Second, they are above all thing spiteful, paranoiac, and egomaniacal. Hatred itself is reason enough to hate. Dorn and the IF were just similar enough to the IW to draw the latter's innate suspicion and envy in greater measure than the other legions and primarchs. The grudge does not flow from some specific slight, real or imagined, but rather from their very nature.
O noooo, they are evil? After reading Angel Exterminatus I think they are good and the IoM is EVIL....
No really, authors are turning everything upside down.....
This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2012/12/31 12:14:30
ADB: I showed the Wolves revealing the key weakness at the heart of the World Eaters; showing Angron that his Legion was broken and worthless compared to the others; that he was the one primarch who couldn't trust his own warriors, and that they didn't care if he lived or died; showing that loyalty to brothers and sons is the heart of success for the Legiones Astartes, to the point even Lorgar makes a big deal out of saying the World Eaters and their primarch were massively outclassed by Russ, and Angron was too stupid to see the lesson Russ had sacrificed time, sweat, and blood, to teach. We're talking about a battle the Wolves won, by isolating the enemy general through pack tactics, and threatening to kill him, without a hope of defending himself. It was a balance, 50/50 - Angron overpowered Russ, and the Wolves were losing ground to the World Eaters; but Russ and his warriors had Angron by the balls, and barely broke a sweat. They won, no question. Lorgar even says: "The Wolves won, meathead."
Dorn won’t help you either. He’s too busy being the Emperor’s groundskeeper, hiding behind the palace walls. The Wolf is too busy cutting off heads as our father’s executioner, while the Lion holds on to his secrets, and has no special fondness for you. Who else will come? Not Ferrus, certainly. Nor Corax either. Even as we speak, I suspect he flees for Deliverance. Sanguinius?’ Curze laughed cruelly. ‘The angel is more cursed than I. The Khan? He does not wish to be found. So who is left? No one, Vulkan. None of them will come. You are simply not that important. You are alone.’ Konrad Curze to Vulkan
O noooo, they are evil? After reading Angel Exterminatus I think they are good and the IoM is EVIL....
No really, authors are turning everything upside down.....
I think that's the whole point. It keeps things "interesting" so that you keep buying the books to read on and find out the "OMG, HOW DID THE GOOD GAIS AND BAD GAIS SWAP SIDES?!"
This message was edited 1 time. Last update was at 2013/01/01 19:39:15
Click here for my Swap Shop post - I'm buying stuff! DR:90-S++G++M+B++I+Pw40kPbfg99#+D++A++/eWDR++T(T)DM+ Black Legion/Iron Warriors/Night Lords Inquisitorial Friends & Co. (Inq, GK, Elysians, Assassins) Elysian Droptroops, soon-to-add Armored Battlegroup Adeptus Mechanicus Forge World Lucius
Like that time in The First Heretic where the Iron Warriors sadistically loosed their artillery on loyalists and traitors alike. Imperial propaganda, I am sure.
Arcsquad12 wrote:Don't forget that most of the Iron Warriors are completely insane thanks to the Obliterator Virus
Source? I'm pretty sure only the Obliterator Cults and some of the Hereteks/Dark Mechanicum have the Obliterator Virus, not the majority of the Iron Warriors.
Nerobellum wrote:As time passes, I think we're just learning that Imperial history is VERY CLEARLY written by the victors.
Quote for truth. This is actually a really simple and good way of explaining why fluff keeps changing
Click here for my Swap Shop post - I'm buying stuff! DR:90-S++G++M+B++I+Pw40kPbfg99#+D++A++/eWDR++T(T)DM+ Black Legion/Iron Warriors/Night Lords Inquisitorial Friends & Co. (Inq, GK, Elysians, Assassins) Elysian Droptroops, soon-to-add Armored Battlegroup Adeptus Mechanicus Forge World Lucius
Inquisitorial Friends & Co. (Inq, GK, Elysians, Assassins) 
Elysian Droptroops, soon-to-add Armored Battlegroup 
Adeptus Mechanicus Forge World Lucius