Ask Female Alpharious

Yey

lady-omegon

“Shit your alive? I thought Dorn killed your ass. Wonder how you’re alive again.”

- @askthesecritivetwins

"Can't tell you sis but I have my own contingency plan for that situation......please don't put a bet on me for this, I'm not going to do that again,Sheesh"

“Nah nah nah, you owe me an explanation I mourned you. You gotta tell me.”

lady-omegon

"Okay okay okay fine..... I trained one of our sons to perfectly pretend to be me for the whole time and let the impostor fight dorn in my steed... There happy"

“Not really no. Where the hell were you this entire time?”

lady-omegon

“Shit your alive? I thought Dorn killed your ass. Wonder how you’re alive again.”

- @askthesecritivetwins

"Can't tell you sis but I have my own contingency plan for that situation......please don't put a bet on me for this, I'm not going to do that again,Sheesh"

lady-archpriest-lorgar-aurelian

“Nah nah nah, you owe me an explanation I mourned you. You gotta tell me.”

Might get a lover if you quit chaos

”...... ”lorgar kick anon out from her tower

lady-archpriest-lorgar-aurelian

“It is right ya know.”

"Don't point it out, Alpharius or omegon. idk but get out from my tower"

lady-archpriest-lorgar-aurelian

“Fine then.” She opens the window and promptly leaves.

Might get a lover if you quit chaos

”...... ”lorgar kick anon out from her tower

“It is right ya know.”

crimsonqueenmagnus

Ixora sat down in a rather fluffy and cozy chair. It was clearly made for Magnus, but today was the young girl's special day. Even if it wasn't, Magnus didn't mind. Instead of the usual red of House Magholt that she usually wore, she was in a magenta gown. It was simple, sleek, and had long, bell-shaped sleeves. She had a matching silver circlet adorning her head.

In stark contrast to her gown, she also wore a simple leather belt that held a bolt pistol in a holster, along with a sword at her other hip, which was an ancestral heirloom. Her green eyes glimmered as her birthday guests began to arrive. Each individual looked at with a delighted smile and great interest. The girl was curious by nature, and the keenest of eyes could tell she was looking beyond their physical appearances alone and also at their very souls.

While Ixora chewed the scenery, Magnus was setting out snacks. The sorceress had once again shrunk herself to a more reasonable height to allow the spotlight to be on someone she cared for. Through the glamor of a relatively simple black dress, one could see that the Crimson Queen was in full armor. It wasn't a threat, per say, and she certainly wasn't concerned for her daughter. How could the primarch that could melt brains or erase people from existence feel threatened? And yet, the simple fact that she was formally introducing her daughter to the rest of her family meant that she had to keep up her guard on principal. She didn't expect anything, but she refused to be ill-prepared.

@askrobouteguilliman40k

@ladynighthaunter

@askthecaptaingeneral

@askthelordofiron

@ravenladycorvus

@rogue-trader-samuel-drakon

@lady-archpriest-lorgar-aurelian

@lady-death-guard

@chapter-master-darius

@askthesecritivetwins

If I forgot anyone, lmk or just tag 'em

Alpharious was just watching with curiosity. The various different interactions and the tension between the various characters was very very amusing.

A glittery card with a two headed dragon on the front find it's way into... some vent somewhere. The card says: "Hi! I'm Lady Ixora Magholt, Magnus' adoptive daughter. You're cordially invited to my thirteenth birthday party!"

“Hmmm. Interesting.”

crimsonqueenmagnus

SO If you're alive in this fandom and want to be invited to a thirteen year old's silly party then please like or comment on this post. Girl's basically going into her mom's computer and hitting "send to all" with her invite lmao

Magnus is throwing a birthday bash for her adoptive daughter. You just have to respond to a specific post she made for it to get an invite.

I’m aware, was just to busy to do stuff yesterday

askrobouteguilliman40k

ladynighthaunter

Checks.

Oh god damn it.

Almost all the female Primarch blogs are deleted.

This makes me sad, I enjoyed RPing with them!

Now there is only like.... Four left?

Sits in the corner and is sad.

lionessjonson

are we the last?

crimsonqueenmagnus

I'm still here. just busy studying. I also neglect my Khan blog but... yea still here.

askthephoenician

I too have had IRL stuff get in the way (no drama just mundane)

I’m still standing!

Through the time. The new dawn of an empire on its knees.

A new project in the works.

A temperate astranomican that was being built in Mars by the mechanicum.

Kusig always felt something there, watching from the sidelines. The presence was familiar, though always just barely managed to stay out of sight.

One day in the office repurposed for the former Emperor, in came a seemingly normal serf. Though to a mind as well experienced and ancient as Kusig’s, there were obvious flaws. Ones that could only be made on purpose. A most minor test.

The serf(?) approached the desk, saying nothing and allowing Kusig to speak first.

@askthesecritivetwins

Almost immediately, the ancient sensed something fundamentally and viscerally wrong with the woman who strode in.

This was no mere serf come to deliver some sort of message.

There was a message here, but it was not one to be taken lightly.

This, this, thing was undoubtedly some kind of shapeshifter. Kusig could feel it. It's potent psychic energies were barely contained, enough to give the impression of something far larger and more powerful lurking just beneath the surface. An ordinary psyker would never have been able to tell the difference, but Kusig was immediately prepared for a fight.

His golden irises began to glow like hot embers in a forge-fire, a warning to this creature to not provoke him.

"You,"

"Who do you think you are? How have you evaded my Custodians?"

@askthesecritivetwins

“Ten thousand years ago Malcador asked the same question.” The woman mused, making no outwardly hostile motions.

The woman moved around a bit, walking around the office, looking around absentmindedly. “If you haven’t figured out who I am I must say that time on your throne must have really messed up your mind.

The woman approached a bookshelf, moving a book aside and grabbing a device, crushing it in her palm. “And you have failed to look for listening devices too. A real shame. I thought you better.” She continued to speak, the smug confidence radiating off of her like fire off of burning wood.

She circled back around, standing in front of the desk, crossing her arms. “I can either keep playing my games, or you remember who I am. Take your pick.”

There was a single possibility that nagged at the edges of Kusig's brilliant star of a mind.

It was an impossibility. Of all his creations, he'd made only two of his prized Primarchs female, and both of them died well before they were able to meet their maker. This one, this one was not one of them, but the aura was familiar, painfully so.

It was an aura he had not felt since,

Since he lost Alpharius and Omegon.

But that cannot be, they were his sons not his daughters. Who was this creature now impersonating one of his long-slain sons?

"You are not them."

“Looks like the little god chair you were stuck on didn’t melt your mind completely. Correct. I am not your son. The warp is a strange thing. One day I sleep, the next I am here. Figured I might as well pop by since you got up.” The twin spoke as she looked around once more.

With a blink, it was no serf, now a very tall woman with short white hair and cyan eyes.

The armor was unmistakable, the scaled armor and spear all pointed to it. Pythian scales, two pronged spear, all indications pointed towards the real deal. Not some wannabe.

“So, what action will you take? Try and get revenge for what happened ten thousand years ago or try and bring me into your fold? I do wonder. But again maybe that is a lie.” She mused with a chuckle, dripping with confidence.

Before him laid an illusion.

It had to be, this could not be real!

Yet there she was, bedecked in Pythian scale armor, carrying the very same spear he had forged himself as a gift for his twin sons. This was not his son, it couldn't be. Of all of his glorious creations, he'd only made two of his twenty Primarchs female, both of whom were consumed by their own home planets.

Despite having a nearly identical soul to his twin sons, this thing had to be a trick, some warp-born manifestation here to prey on his tortured mind. Was ten thousand years of torment not enough? Did the daemon and their dark Masters need to toy with him until the fucking heat death of the universe?

"You are not them." The former Emperor repeated, this time with more of an edge to his voice.

His golden irises glowed ever brighter as he stood to his full and imposing height.

Dammit!

Where was Lucifer when he needed the damn blade?!

The woman rolled her eyes as he repeated himself.

“I guess the chair really did mess you up,” She spoke, exasperated and annoyed. “Do me a favor and think pragmatically for a moment. I’m offering you the opportunity to bring back a legion of Astartes, one that has not fallen to chaos yet. Or well, not fully”

She strolled the room a few more times before finally taking a seat. The chair creaked slightly under the weight.

“Maybe there is there something else keeping you from giving me an answer? I wonder… do you think I am a daemon perhaps? Or do you think I am a wannabe? Do tell, dear old Father.”

She spoke with a less smug tone, more so out of genuine curiosity, though the undertone still indicated overconfidence. Lucifer wasn’t there, and she was quite sure she could, at the minimum, escape him if he got hostile.

Through the time. The new dawn of an empire on its knees.

A new project in the works.

A temperate astranomican that was being built in Mars by the mechanicum.

Kusig always felt something there, watching from the sidelines. The presence was familiar, though always just barely managed to stay out of sight.

One day in the office repurposed for the former Emperor, in came a seemingly normal serf. Though to a mind as well experienced and ancient as Kusig’s, there were obvious flaws. Ones that could only be made on purpose. A most minor test.

The serf(?) approached the desk, saying nothing and allowing Kusig to speak first.

@askthesecritivetwins

Almost immediately, the ancient sensed something fundamentally and viscerally wrong with the woman who strode in.

This was no mere serf come to deliver some sort of message.

There was a message here, but it was not one to be taken lightly.

This, this, thing was undoubtedly some kind of shapeshifter. Kusig could feel it. It's potent psychic energies were barely contained, enough to give the impression of something far larger and more powerful lurking just beneath the surface. An ordinary psyker would never have been able to tell the difference, but Kusig was immediately prepared for a fight.

His golden irises began to glow like hot embers in a forge-fire, a warning to this creature to not provoke him.

"You,"

"Who do you think you are? How have you evaded my Custodians?"

@askthesecritivetwins

“Ten thousand years ago Malcador asked the same question.” The woman mused, making no outwardly hostile motions.

The woman moved around a bit, walking around the office, looking around absentmindedly. “If you haven’t figured out who I am I must say that time on your throne must have really messed up your mind.

The woman approached a bookshelf, moving a book aside and grabbing a device, crushing it in her palm. “And you have failed to look for listening devices too. A real shame. I thought you better.” She continued to speak, the smug confidence radiating off of her like fire off of burning wood.

She circled back around, standing in front of the desk, crossing her arms. “I can either keep playing my games, or you remember who I am. Take your pick.”

There was a single possibility that nagged at the edges of Kusig's brilliant star of a mind.

It was an impossibility. Of all his creations, he'd made only two of his prized Primarchs female, and both of them died well before they were able to meet their maker. This one, this one was not one of them, but the aura was familiar, painfully so.

It was an aura he had not felt since,

Since he lost Alpharius and Omegon.

But that cannot be, they were his sons not his daughters. Who was this creature now impersonating one of his long-slain sons?

"You are not them."

“Looks like the little god chair you were stuck on didn’t melt your mind completely. Correct. I am not your son. The warp is a strange thing. One day I sleep, the next I am here. Figured I might as well pop by since you got up.” The twin spoke as she looked around once more.

With a blink, it was no serf, now a very tall woman with short white hair and cyan eyes.

The armor was unmistakable, the scaled armor and spear all pointed to it. Pythian scales, two pronged spear, all indications pointed towards the real deal. Not some wannabe.

“So, what action will you take? Try and get revenge for what happened ten thousand years ago or try and bring me into your fold? I do wonder. But again maybe that is a lie.” She mused with a chuckle, dripping with confidence.

saintsylestine

Alpharia and the other one by Jesus Emir

Through the time. The new dawn of an empire on its knees.

A new project in the works.

A temperate astranomican that was being built in Mars by the mechanicum.

Kusig always felt something there, watching from the sidelines. The presence was familiar, though always just barely managed to stay out of sight.

One day in the office repurposed for the former Emperor, in came a seemingly normal serf. Though to a mind as well experienced and ancient as Kusig’s, there were obvious flaws. Ones that could only be made on purpose. A most minor test.

The serf(?) approached the desk, saying nothing and allowing Kusig to speak first.

@askthesecritivetwins

Almost immediately, the ancient sensed something fundamentally and viscerally wrong with the woman who strode in.

This was no mere serf come to deliver some sort of message.

There was a message here, but it was not one to be taken lightly.

This, this, thing was undoubtedly some kind of shapeshifter. Kusig could feel it. It's potent psychic energies were barely contained, enough to give the impression of something far larger and more powerful lurking just beneath the surface. An ordinary psyker would never have been able to tell the difference, but Kusig was immediately prepared for a fight.

His golden irises began to glow like hot embers in a forge-fire, a warning to this creature to not provoke him.

"You,"

"Who do you think you are? How have you evaded my Custodians?"

@askthesecritivetwins

#Yes this is to give me more interaction with the Fem Magnus blog

“Ten thousand years ago Malcador asked the same question.” The woman mused, making no outwardly hostile motions.

The woman moved around a bit, walking around the office, looking around absentmindedly. “If you haven’t figured out who I am I must say that time on your throne must have really messed up your mind.

The woman approached a bookshelf, moving a book aside and grabbing a device, crushing it in her palm. “And you have failed to look for listening devices too. A real shame. I thought you better.” She continued to speak, the smug confidence radiating off of her like fire off of burning wood.

She circled back around, standing in front of the desk, crossing her arms. “I can either keep playing my games, or you remember who I am. Take your pick.”

OC Idea: Amun Omera, a Psyker inductee into the thousand so sons, sleeper agent of the Alpha legion

Current Status: Scout

"Oi, lady! You still in there?" There's two confident clunks on the vents before the guardswoman climbs in once again.

@chem-dog

“What ya want?”

"Figured I wouldn't have to check this vent for beasties if you're still in there." Drezda replied with a snort, "And thought ya might want a snack. Dunno what ya've been eating, but thought a sandwich might be better than whatever it is." She then holds out said bagged sandwich for the primarch with a toothy grin.

“I’ve got my own, don’t worry, but sure, I’ll take it.” A hand comes from the vent and took it before disappearing back into the dark of the vent.

"Good talk." Drezda shrugged and leaned against a wall near the vent. "Wasn't worried. Jus figured a sandwich might taste better. Heard you guys could live off dirt if ya had ta. I could theoretically live off of rations, but that don't give the brain any of those good chemicals."

“…” The silence palpable for a moment. “You do know that you’re gonna end up dying from that, right…?”

"What... sandwiches?" She asked, tilting her head to the side. "Happy chemicals? I ain't talkin' about nitro chems. I'm talkin' like... positive... emotion? Issit terminal?"

“Ugh. Lack of context I guess. Thought you were talking about something else. You are called chem dogs for a reason.”

"Aye, fair." She replied with a toothy grin, "Tryin to wean off the shite. Don't wanna leave the boss takin care of Jekyll."

“Good.” She sighed. “I don’t like those lower than me to die.”

"Mm, a few months back, and I mighta disagreed, but livin seems alright lately." Drezda replied with a shrug. "Not expectin' that sorta thing from you though... or at least most of my 'betters'. 'Fore Sam, I recall being likened to things like.... fodder, a pig to slaughter, human shield, shitstain upon humanity, bullet sponge, rusted cog in the machine that is the Imperium, scum..." She keeps going.

“I am no Salamander, I am not that kind, but I am no world eater. If someone knows something they shouldn’t, I’d rather offer them a position than kill them.”

"I'm already employed. Do I know somethin I shouldn't?" She asks, picking something out of her teeth.

“Generally, no. Only that I exist. The fact that your imperium literally calls me a daemon sent to kill the emperor and you’re not shooting me tells me your either an idiot or your smart enough to know I can flick you and you die.”

"Boss don't threaten to shoot me if I don't shoot you. Simple as... I also know if I so much as sneezed at a regular astartes, I'd be turned into a fine red mist, much less a primarch." Drezda snorted, "Even at my most reckless, I wouldn't consider myself suicidal... 'sides, I've been on the mean end of commissar guns about as often as I've been on that side of an ork shoota. Ya won't find zealotry from me. Ain't no... passion of 'humanity's finest' inna chem dog. Just will to survive an a lust for loot."