My Tzeentch cultist (former member of the Mechanicum) who has been obsessed with a man that’s been dead for 10,000 years, Toothbrush. My beautiful ugly dog lady.
She’ll be part of a story I’m writing. I’ll post sketches and lore of her later.
My Tzeentch cultist (former member of the Mechanicum) who has been obsessed with a man that’s been dead for 10,000 years, Toothbrush. My beautiful ugly dog lady.
She’ll be part of a story I’m writing. I’ll post sketches and lore of her later.
I would have sworn there already was a drawing with him in the iconic white Marilyn Monroe dress but I couldn’t find it so I decided to bring it to life.
I made cover art for this fanfic with my punching bag Black Templar OC. He's going to have a bad time :3
Synopsis: Black Templar Starholf was severely wounded in battle, requiring a life-saving surgery. But things have gone downhill since then. He isn't healing, requiring the constant use of stim packs. He can no longer feel the emperor's love, and his prayers aren't being heard. His faith is slowly being shaken and he soon finds he cannot go without the stim packs. Furthermore, his apothecary seems to be taking him down a dark and twisted path. Can his faith save him?
Warnings: drug use, manipulation by a superior, abuse of power, using religion as a weapon, emotional manipulation, internal guilt, devout faith (God-Emperor), religious themes and imagery, medical malpractice, experimentation, canon-typical violence
Master Post - next
Fic below the cut
The chaplain's words blended into the low growl of the choir. Words faded away into the cacophony of noise and it lost its meaning. The memory of the sensation of stim packs danced around his mind and body.
This wasn't right. He'd never had this type of want and craving before. Stim Packs were a great help during battle. But so many and so often? His body still wasn't healing. The sharp pains in his back and knee never subsided. The only relief was the stim packs that apothecary Krammer gladly supplied. He constantly thought about them. It had gotten to the point where even if he was just mildly uncomfortable and feeling a bit low, he wanted one.
By the Golden Throne, he was one of His angels. He should have more self-control.
He shifted in an attempt to make his body more comfortable. This was ridiculous. He used to never move during morning rituals. It even interrupted his reciting.
God-Emperor, I have prayed these many mornings and nights. Why do you not answer like you used to? Why do I no longer feel fulfillment? Why does the pain and exhaustion grow? Am I being punished for faltering? Is the faltering the punishment?
"Back, knee, or both?"
He glanced to the side at his battle-brother, Heinrich Abernathy. His longest friend and dearest brother.
"Both," he sighed in a hushed tone. "I can keep going."
"You stopped reciting, Starholf." Pointed out the other marine.
Starholf added, "So have you."
"Only in concern for you, brother." His teasing smile fell, "This is concerning. Is the Apothecary not doing enough for you?"
Starholf shook his head, "He is going above and beyond. I fear... it might be an issue with me. I feel strange. Off."
He caught Heinrich's gaze again.
Sheepishly he said, "I'll go to him after this."
"Why not another apothecary?" Heinrich suggested.
Starholf blinked.
"Why?"
His brother opened and closed his mouth, "I'm not sure. A feeling or passing thought of having a second opinion. Apologies, it suggests ill of Krammer."
Heinrich looked forward at the leading chaplain. He didn't see Starholf bite his lip, wondering if his statement was true.
The rest of the sermons passed on slowly, time stretching as far as it could. He barely paid attention, receiving no enlightenment. It was getting harder to maintain rituals and rites. He must get it under control, not wanting to burden the chaplain.
He blinked, realizing he was outside the starboard bow apothecarium. Krammer's. He had come here out of habit.
He entered to see the apothecary taking inventory.
"I have some new packs on the observation table," he said without looking back.
"How did you know it was me?" Starholf questioned.
"The sound of your gait."
He nodded and went to the table. Each pack was stacked neatly, one upon another.
"This, this is wrong," he said aloud. "I shouldn't want these. Craving them."
"Your body has been through a lot," Krammer mentioned. "It's still healing."
"Not like this," he muttered.
The apothecary sighed and set down his dataslate.
"You must fully dedicate yourself to healing," he said. "Lest your faith waver and prove your descent."
"Never," Starholf insisted. "I follow our beloved Emperor's edicts strictly."
Krammer hummed, "Yet you don't trust him to heal you with what is given."
The battle-brother nodded solemnly and reached for a pack. The words stung. He must be faltering. He wanted to go back to battle. Go on missions. It had been some time since he had seen the sisters of Battle.
Heinrich had told him that Sister Sadru prayed for his recovery. He'd known her since he was an aspirant. The older sister had been a source of comfort and wisdom throughout the years. He needed to get better. He needed to keep praying, even if there was no answer.
The injection was quick, and the high and relief came crashing through.
His knees nearly gave out with the shock of it.
"W-what was that?" He inquired shakily.
"Higher concentrated dose," his brother stated. "Since your wounds aren't healing as they should, I'm giving you extra."
He struggled to form words, "But, I... we already did..."
Krammer chided, "You must have faith, brother. Drastic measures are needed for drastic times. We suffer not the mutant or alien to live with extreme prejudice. Sometimes excessive force is needed."
Starholf nodded numbly. That made sense, he guessed.
Krammer rested a hand on his pauldron, "You need enlightenment of a caliber one such as I can provide. Come back later tonight, after the final sermon. Come alone as this is meant for those who are healing, such as yourself. Be rejuvenated in soul and body along with others like you."
The battle-brother nodded, "Okay, I look forward to it."
Krammer's smile grew. Not in a natural way. Like it was stretching.
"As do I."
It wasn't till he left that he felt chills run up his spine. Whatever was that? He wanted to pry more but it made him feel sick. He hoped this meeting would put him more at ease.
***
Hearts pounded as they stood around the... table? Altar? No, it couldn't be. Vials of clear liquid were passed around, one to each brother.
He knew these fellow Marines. Why were they here? Were they wounded like him? Why was the air so thick with perfume?
Krammer stepped up to the table. A silk cloth was on it with a horrendous amount of colored threads stitched into it. Starholf couldn't recognize the symbols.
The apothecary smiled cooly at them all.
"Drink up."
Some took their time before partaking of the liquid. Some took it immediately, knocking back their heads. Reactions were immediate.
Stern and stoic fronts dropped. Some had looks of glee, some of relief, others had sorrow, and a few looked dull and hollow.
Starholf stared down at his vial. He detected the scent of highly concentrated alcohol, the sweetness of botanicals, and the pungent smells of medicine.
His digestive system twisted and tightened as nausea washed over him.
"Drink up," reiterated Krammer.
His voice was far too loud. It echoed and didn't fade.
Starholf felt as though his lungs were filled with cotton.
"I don't feel very good," he admitted, handing back the vial.
"This will ease the pain," the apothecary assured.
Starholf shook his head, "Not in pain."
The apothecary insisted, "You'll feel better regardless."
He bit his lip then downed the liquid as Krammer moved it to his lips. The world shifted.
"Let us begin," Krammer sighed.
Star copied the others, standing tall and in a circle around Krammer.
"Your doubts and faithlessness have made you weak," Krammer said. "This is why you were wounded and now need me to help you find salvation."
What?? No. This- he shouldn't be doing this. This was a chaplain's job.
"I have dedicated myself to the faith and healing of my brothers," the apothecary continued. "You are sick in mind, body, and soul. I can and have been treating you all for this. I am your only hope."
This was wrong. This was so wrong.
"Even now you doubt my words, a further sign of corruption."
Starholf stiffened, his head growing fuzzy.
"You failed," Krammer said. "You should be rejects of the chapter. But I have compassion upon you. I will help you heal."
"You will help us heal." The others said in unison.
Starholf looked around, they knew this?
"You will honor your pledge and devote yourself."
"We will honor our pledge and devote ourselves."
"You will go beyond what is needed, exceeding all."
"We will go beyond what is needed, exceeding all."
"Doing so will be your greatest pleasure."
"Doing so will be our greatest pleasure."
Krammer lit several sticks of incense. They weren't the usual ones. These burned quickly and churned smoke into the air. Breathing it in made his emotions feel lighter. It put him at ease.
He blinked and the smog was thicker. Krammer was placing a stick of incense to his lips. No, this was different. It looked like an Astartes-sized Lho stick.
The apothecary ordered, "Breathe in."
He did so and everything spun. He looked up into the haze and saw a faint symbol. A circle with a crescent moon. It moved upward into a smaller crescent, facing the other direction. He couldn't tell where he knew it from.
Dread filled his chest. He began internally reciting prayers and edicts of the God-Emperor as the haze grew.
He nearly hit a wall as he staggered out. When had it ended? How long was that?
"Always rough taking it for the first time," one of his brothers said. "No need to worry. A nice full rest will do you well. You'll wake up feeling amazing in the morning."
Starholf nodded as he was ushered to his room and servitors helped him out of his armor. He collapsed on his bed, feeling light as a cloud.
He felt no pain, his mind was flying, and he felt calm and energized. It wasn't right. A sense of doom loomed over him and his lip trembled as silent tears escaped his eyes.
Warnings: addiction, manipulation, abuse of power, manipulation by a superior, blackmail, violence, self-deprecation
Krammer had given him full access to the medical cabinet. He could go in and take as many stim packs as he wanted.
At first, there was plenty. Then there was barely any. He found himself being irritable and unpleasant to his brothers if he didn't take one at least once a day.
He tried weaning himself off, but cravings grew stronger, and he was ruthless in the training cages.
Nights were sleepless, and often he was called to the "meetings" Krammer held. They were becoming more and more strange. He dreaded going to them but not as much as he dreaded going to morning prayer. He shocked himself more than Heinrich when he told him he wasn't going.
He spent that time in meditation in his room. Left in solitude to go over his mistakes. Krammer said this was vital to his healing process. He doubted it but... He doubted so much already. He wanted to believe in something.
"Shame I didn't see you at morning prayer."
He turned towards his doorway, and a sister of battle stood there. Scars mixed with signs of aging around her eyes and her hair was done up.
"Sister Sadru," he lit up. "It has been too long."
"Indeed it has," she spoke.
He stood and invited her in.
"I have been cleared for battle but I am glad to see you sooner," he grinned.
She attempted to smile back but it faltered.
"What's wrong?" He inquired.
The Sister sighed and placed a hand atop his, "Forgive me for being blunt but... You look terrible."
He blinked at her.
"Heinrich said he was worried about you and seeing you now has only caused my concern to grow." She admitted. "Starholf, you look sick. Very sick. You also appear as if you have not slept in weeks. Your countenance is down."
He wanted to snap at her. Send her out. Prove he was fine. But it was true. He felt awful. Inside and out.
He began, "I... I am struggling."
"Oh, Starholf," she sighed.
He loved Sister Sadru. He'd known her since he was little. It was her battalion that came to his world to protect them long before the Astartes. She was new to the frontlines then.
A somber feeling fell over him. Nostalgia for the old times, weighed down by current ones.
He tried to enjoy the rest of the day. Going to sermons with her. Training matches with the sisters. Heinrich, Sister Sadru, and he sharing a meal.
The other two were all smiles and happy. He couldn't feel anything. Just the struggle of faking joy. He could not drag this happy reunion down with ridiculous feelings. The thoughts of a doubter.
Tonight was another meeting. The symbols in the cloth were always changing and growing. He tried to focus on that, thankful they were not inhaling smoke once more.
As each of them left, Krammed called him back to discuss something.
"How are the stim packs?"
Starholf muttered, "They are fine. Uh, thank you for your generosity."
Krammer beamed, "You are most welcome."
He hadn't looked at him this entire time, just focused on his work.
Starholf was about to ask to be excused when Krammer inquired, "Have you told anyone of this?"
Starholf shook his head, "No sir."
"Good," Krammer muttered. "I don't want the Sisters of Battle to get involved."
He didn't know why, but hearing that made it click. After everything, it took just that sentence. Throne, why was he so oblivious!?
It all added up. The constant pain after a supposed life-saving surgery. The experimental and potent stim packs. Constantly offering said stim packs to the point that it consumed his mind. The meetings and what he'd been trying to get them to pledge themselves to... it was of the ruinous powers. Apothecary Krammer had fallen. He was a heretic. He couldn't let this go on any longer. He'd never been more sure in his life.
"I will report you to the chaplain," he stated.
Krammer didn't look at him, he just sighed.
Starholf was shoved against the wall, Krammer's hand around his throat, lifting him off the ground. His strength exceeded what he should be capable of.
Star tried to pry Krammer's fingers but they didn't budge. He panicked and began trying to kick and punch the apothecary. But the other just smiled, as if he were enjoying it.
The apothecary slammed his brother into the wall again and pulled him down so his mouth was at his ear.
"How interesting it would be," Krammer said smoothly, "For you to tell the chaplain only to have me present footage of you coming in here and stealing combat stims. How the others have witnessed you committing suspicious acts that lead to signs of the dark forces. It will be your word against all of theirs and mine."
Tears pricked his eyes as he struggled for breath and at what the apothecary was telling him. He was forced to his knees, the pressure around his neck unrelenting.
Krammer loomed over him, "You will do as I say otherwise I will kill so many that I work on and will blame it on you. Battle-brother, neophyte, and captain. It will be your fault that they're dead. Their blood will be on your hands whether or not you're dead. Suicide isn't an option. I also know about the Sister of Battle you're close with and your dear brother, Heinrich. I will hurt them too."
Starholf felt his mouth foaming as the edges of his vision grew dark. No, please, no.
Krammer laughed, "Don't even think about trying to stay away. I know you already tried and failed. You're hooked. You need those stims. Your body demands it and your mind wants to adhere to its demands. I own you and you listen to me. Do I make myself clear?"
His grip tightened, "I said, Do I make myself clear?"
He saw the blackness close in. He forced the last of his strength to nod his head.
The grip around his throat disappeared and he flopped to the ground, coughing.
God-emperor, give me the strength or the will to die.
He felt a hand brush his neck and flashed his eyes upwards.
Krammer grinned down at him, "No prayers will be answered for a worthless sinning wretch like you. You've displeased him. You've allowed doubt to settle into your soul next to corruption. You let it fester and rot you away. You couldn't even see the heresy before your very eyes. No wonder he couldn't hear you."
Star felt his hearts sink.
"You've already forsaken him; thus he has forsaken you," Krammer tutted.
"No," Starholf rasped. "I haven't, I am still loya-"
Krammer grabbed him by his gorget and swung him against the wall once more. His feet weren't touching the ground again. He let out an involuntary whimper as every aspect of control he had was slipping through his fingers.
"You have fallen," his brother hissed. "Even now your body craves the stims. The ones I altered with gifts from the dark prince."
Starholf's stomach went cold.
"You have fallen and didn't even know it. You've been offending the golden-corpse this entire time."
Tears began to fall.
Krammer leaned in closer, "Congratulations, on realizing you're a heretic."
Starholf was frozen as Krammer drew nearer and licked tears off his cheeks.
The apothecary hummed, "Delicious."
He flinched as a stim pack was injected into him. He felt the pain relief and strength wash through him. It made him feel dirty.
Despite that, Krammer dragged him over to his work table like he was a rag doll.
"Be here tomorrow and I'll give you your assignment," he was ordered.
Another stim pack was shoved into his hands and he was pushed out of the apothecarium.
"See you tomorrow," Krammer scoffed.
The door slid shut and Starholf stood there, trying to process what had just happened.
Somehow he managed to take a step. Then another. Then another. And another.
He found himself in his room and let the door close behind him. He gently set the stim pack down on a shelf, then felt gravity pull him down to the ground. His hearts pounded but not from the rush of battle. Icy claws gripped both and clawed at his digestive system. He could feel them squeezing his lungs.
He lay down on his side and blinked till tears began to fall. He clasped a hand over his mouth to try to silence a sob.
He couldn't be a heretic! He wouldn't! But he'd doom his brothers, the future of the chapter as well. What was he supposed to do? He wished Sister Sadru were here. She'd know what to do.
What was this feeling around his hearts? Something that was trapping him. It was overwhelming and caused great despair and anxiety.
He was stuck. What could he do? He couldn't doom others. It was seemingly hopeless. He was trapped.
He didn't deserve it, didn't know if it would work, but it was all he knew and the only comfort he could think of.
He clasped a hand over his symbol of the emperor and began praying through tears. It was rushed, he stuttered and choked through it all, and his conviction wavered.
He repeated it and gritted his teeth, adding in pleas of forgiveness.
At one point his face was a waterfall of tears, snot, and saliva. He brought shame to his chapter and their primarch. A disgrace in the imperium.
He should be hanged for his transgressions. Tortured and hanged. Stupid, how could he have been so stupid?! Through everything?! He shouldn't have known! Seen it from the start. He shouldn't have confronted him, just gone to the chaplain! But then the surveillance. The promised deaths.
He repeated the prayer and cursed himself as his legs began to ache and the memory of where he put the stim pack moved to the front of his mind.
No, please no. He just had one. He couldn't. He wouldn't! He shouldn't.
He focused on all the prayers he knew. Strength, forgiveness, guidance, protection, conviction.
He sniffed as he wiped his nose. His alarm went off, his standard four hours were up. Minutes ticked by and became half an hour. He should be reporting by now.
It turned into an hour.
He was jolted out of his stupor upon a knock at his door.
"Brother?" Heinrich called from the other side.
He needed to move. He was going to be in trouble. He was already in trouble. Censorship? Death? Servitorization? Better than the blood of so many upon his hands. Hopefully, he died in his next battle, if he got out to battle.
His door opened and he lowered his head.
"Brother?" Heinrich called again. "Brother, are you alright? Starholf, what's wrong?"
He couldn't speak. What could he say? Tears were the only thing he could let out.
"Are you in pain?" Asked his brother. "Shall I fetch the apothecary?"
He shook his head and looked up to where the stim pack was. Heinrich followed his gaze and grabbed it, bringing it to him.
He cried harder as it was administered to him and he felt the steroids rushing through him.
"Better?" Heinrich asked.
He forced his head to nod.
His brother grabbed him by the arm and helped him up, "Let's head to the worship hall. Perhaps hearing the prayers, worship, and praise of the Emperor will help ease your burdens."
Starholf said nothing and let Heinrich drag him out. His brother was walking alongside a heretic.
Ferryman has been going to classes on the weekends! Mostly to socialize and learn from others in his legion. He gets to meet older Marines, learn Legion culture, and try all sorts of new smells and rotted foods.
On his first day, I used molasses as hair gel to help attract bugs. Also to trap them and it's more pungent than honey. He wore a bowtie made out of wrappers and we made sure his apron was soaked and dried in mud. I think he felt very dapper.
I gave him some old keys that don't go to anything to give to others to help him make friends. It worked!
He befriended fellow Death Guard, Crassus, and a Blood Raven named Isadore. Here they are on their first day!
He's been enjoying classes thus far and his new friends!
Ka'Jun is so mopey. It's only the weekends and for three hours but he's trying so hard to act like he doesn't feel left out or miss Ferryman. Fe'Fa makes it better though.
prguitarman
tangentwithtanner
germansingergirl
dailybridgerton
vaporwave
andulkaphoto
pixelskylines
baratheonpilled