While it’s not finished yet (and I suspect this will be one of several writings in this AU/concept), have a piece of my first ficlet!
Warnings for pregnancy, alluded but not explicit past miscarriages, and the reader being something I’m calling a ‘genemother’ but the reader’s actual gender is not specified— this is pure self indulgence folks and you’re along for the ride /silly
It is rarely remembered that despite everything that they must go through to ascend past their mortal limits, an Astartes is still human.
The Emperors Angels, the war machines, the creatures of untold mental and physical strength that some Imperium citizens might even call demigods in their own right— they are all still so very human at their core, though you’ve met plenty who would like to pretend otherwise.
But you can’t blame them.
You can’t blame the gawking soldiers, the gobsmacked nobles. Seeing a chapter of fully-armored Space Marines march upon a planet is a sight typically reserved for priestly dreams or xenos nightmares, though you have been long-blessed to be simultaneously one of and yet separated from the humming machine that is the God-Emperor’s will and law. *Your* space marines. *Your* Astartes. *Your* boys. *Your* Salamanders.
You may barely stand to their waist, but they would have you believe that you’re an angel in how devoted they are to your wants and needs.
After all, you are their chapters genemother. A biological marvel, a connecting half to the primarch of whom has long since disappeared— though you had never personally met Vulkan by any stretch of the imagination, you’d like to think he would be proud of you. Proud that, despite all the odds that ravage the chapters, you are a pinnacle stone upon which they can continue to march forward and protect humanity from all the threats against it. Ironic, considering how you’re—
A soft coo pulls you from your inner thoughts. You glance down to see a tiny pair of eyes looking up at you in turn, the small babe having woken from his nap against your chest. A moment passes before your infectious smile echoes upon his tiny face, followed by a gurgle of gentle and innocent joy. He reaches a hand up towards your cheek, gently squirming within his swaddled cocoon of soft blanket, and you let him touch those shaky little digits against your cheek with all the grace of a mother bonding with their child.
"You’ve woken far too quickly, little Za’ven.” You smile wider yet and lean down to press your forehead to his, feeling his pleased little gurgles turn into that halting, broken laughter of a babe who barely knows how to laugh in the first place. “How else will you grow into a big and strong Salamander if you don’t get your sleep?”
To that, Za’ven simply hiccups and wiggles again within his gently-wrapped blanket.
In truth the infant has not yet grown enough to be afforded a name on record, but a name you have given him all the same and a name his father and uncles have each called him by upon his birth. Your third child, but the first for his father and the first to have been born into the horrors and wonders alike of the universe. He is a miracle and blessing— hopefully the first of several at minimum. An answer to the impending doom overlooking many an Astartes chapter; losing the very blood of their primarch through genetic anomalies, mutations, and a constant loss of battle-brothers in a neverending war.
By some cosmic joke or blessing bestowed upon you by the God-Emperor himself in his ascended wisdom, you are capable of birthing children with Astartes blood. Not fully, not completely— these babes would still need to grow and complete their augmentations and training, but they will do so with the genetic memory of their primarch already offering them strength. Vulkan’s tenacity, honor, power— if the members to your endless medical care have been honest, the children you bare may even ensure that the Salamander’s geneseed remains strong and viable long into the future.
For however long humanity needs the God-Emperor’s angels to fight.
The sound of a door opening is barely heard over your gentle murmuring baby talk. For a moment you assume it is another apothecary who has come for yet another blood sample of mother and child, but you’re surprised instead to see the imposing form of the Salamander’s own chapter master.
"Tu’Shan," you can’t hide the momentary surprise that colors your tone. “To what honor do I welcome the master of the Firedrakes?”
He doesn’t answer at first. Instead, the Astartes’ attention is drawn to the small babe in your arms, cooing and babbling in what will one day be words, sentences, perhaps even a recitation of ancient war chants as he marches across the battlefield. But for now he is small and fragile, and holds every ounce of interest that the chapter master seems to have in the first few seconds of his entrance into your quarters.
"You speak of being honored,” he finally says, tone so low that you feel as much as hear it. Like the rumbling of shifting stones. “And yet it is I who is honored most of all to see our genemother healthy and with child.”
He steps closer, though the slow and careful motion seems out of place for a space marine of his rank and experience— not the crawl of a predator stalking forward, but the humbled approach of a sinner to a church.
It is only when Tu’Shan’s massive form takes a knee beside your bed that your cheeks begin to feel hot.
“And *you* speak with such reverence,” the words try to sound amused and teasing, but instead they seem embarrassed. Shy, even. “I cannot hold back a xenos horde nor can I embolden the Imperium’s people to action. I am not even of Nocturn’s cradle in birth. And yet,” your eyes finally shift, looking towards the man as he gazes at the small infant who has already begun to fall asleep once more, “you kneel for me.”
Tu’Shan makes a noise. You’re not certain if it’s a scoff or a chuckle, and he seems to lack a desire to clarify.
The air is still for a while instead. Not suffocating, not cold, just… quiet. You can only begin to wonder what is going on inside the chapter master’s mind as he kneels like a worshipper at your bedside altar, mattress soft as a cloud while the vibrant silken veils of black and red are pulled aside so that anyone who enters your room could see you sitting upon it. Many Salamanders have already learned to not disturb you if the veil has been drawn shut.
“….His name,” he finally says, breaking the silence with a question that is not a question.
“Za’ven,” you answer gently, hoping that the conversation doesn’t waken the infant, though the constant background hum of the distant forge and the sounds of voices and activity around the monetary have seemed to temper the baby’s sensitivity to noise. “I understand the name once belonged to a battle brother of high honor.”
A revisit to an old model, but I'm testing my camera and trying to get better pictures overall. Someone told me my Typhus models original photos looked like they'd been run through an AI filter and it got under my skin. But it gives me an excuse to repost some stuff and talk about it too, so here we go.
My Techpriest Enginseer for the tank army I never got off the ground, lol. At this point I was doing the full dry brush buildups from I think in this one's case it was Zandri Dust, a wash, then building up layers of contrast and drybrush. It makes for a good rich color but can be maddening.
Ah, the model that got me back into painting! I love Snikrot, every little thing about him screams cool to me and he was so much fun to paint. I had only just begun to use contrast paints here and hadn't developed my own personal style yet. I was trying so many different things but I still really love this model. I hadn't painted in YEARS but when I saw this model I knew I wanted back in. I even have the kill Team, I'll post them some other time.
Oof, ignore the mold lines here, I wasn't confident in my blade skills and was at times painting as a way of therapy and wasn't as attentive in my construction as I could have been. That said, there's a lot I like about this time period in my painting. I had settled into contrasts and edge highlighting through careful brushwork but I was still learning with every model. I was trying out so many different things still but I felt like I made solid colors and highlights and that my block work wasn't bad at all.
That's the last of them for now! I'm still working on other projects, the ongoing Tyrant for next week and the blight of Nurgle models I have that I want to paint more than anything. I don't even have the codex yet or I'd have already begun painting Plague Marines. As it is my warband is growing by what only has a singular weapons profile and Typhus.
"This is an attitude that developed as a consequence of the Salamanders' own unusually close connections to the Nocturnean people, as they are one of the only Chapters of Astartes who continue to interact with their families and the people of their homeworld after their transformation into Space Marines."
It is 100 percent cannon that a Salamander Space Marine would go back home sit in a chair and tell stories to a dozen grandchildren or great-grandchildren of what they had seen.
They would be there helping their family fix up around the house. or even like help with homework.
A Salamander coming home after a century of war and sitting on the grave of their sister who died of old age and just telling them stories.
They definitely get good by hugs.
I think one of the best ways for warhammer 40k to break out of its niche is to focus more on the Salamanders.
They are the most human of the space marines and help bridge that gap between the Grimdark and reality.
The Story: Five years have passed since war came to Nocturne. Third Company, still feeling its losses, recovers its strength. And though a small party have ventured out in search of a certain errant fire-born, it is the Salamanders of Fifth Company who must wage war. On Helentine, the Black Legion has come in the name of Chaos an only Brother-Captain Drakgaard's warriors stand in the way of their dark glory. Victory for the Imperium hings on the alliance between the Salamanders and the Sisters of the Ebon Chalice, warrior zealots and devout servants of the Ecclesiarchy. But there is more to this Promethean War than conquest, and only as the conflict grinds on are the true motives of the enemy revealed…
The Good: Once again we return the Salamanders Chapter, a personal favorite. This story picks up where the first Salamanders novel series left off and addresses many lingering plot threads and introduces new ones.
One of the great things about the Salamanders Chapter is their humanity. It is an irony, that the space marines who seem among the most fearsome: red eyes, black skin, are among the ones who care the most about the people of the Imperium. One incident in particular is when one of the Dreadnoughts actually speaks and praises an Imperial Guard Commander. Space Marines largely ignore and look down upon the mortals of the Imperial Gaurds and Dreadnoughts in particular, being entombed in a cybernetic sarcophagus and spend most of their time sleeping, are especially aloof. One of the things that makes Warhammer 40k so appealing is in its humanity. In the grim darkness of the far future where there is only war and hellish abominations want to consume humanity in horrifying and terrible ways and yet there is still courage, compassion and honor to be found in humanity. Even amongst those whom normal human weaknesses and emotions have supposedly been purged from their bodies and minds.
These emotions come into play in different way with the character of Ur’zan Draakgaurd, captain of the sixth company. In several stories including this one, it is stated that while a chapter of the Adeptus Astartes are always brothers on the battlefield, but like any group of men, they are still prone to petty competition, squabbles, and power struggles. This reflected in the personal struggles of Draakgaurd, he has served the Salamanders for many years and has no doubt earned many honors to the chapter and saved many lives but at the same time he has never really been the big hero. His stories are not the ones told to the new recruits in order to inspire them and put fire in their hearts. He is little more than a grunt. A good grunt, but not that special of a Space Marine. His drive to win the world of Heletine is motivated by more than duty in a way that feels very real.
For many of the citizens of the Imperium, the Space Marines are little more than a myth, unstoppable Angels of Death. To more informed individuals, the Apeptus Astartes are mistrusted and feared due to their independent ways and traditions separate from Imperial Dogma. This is reflected in the Sororitas as many of the sisters outright fear and are disgusted by their traditions that are decidedly different from the Imperial Creed. The way the Sororitas react and sometimes work against the Salamanders works in very good way that keeps with the character of the Sororitas.
The book also includes illustrations about the main characters in the book, which is very good to have every once in a while to help the reader get a feel of how the characters are supposed to look. It really helped clarify Bookworm’s mind’s eye.
The Flaws: There is a debate floating around the Warhammer club as well as gaming in general in that, in Warhammer 40k, women are not fairly represented and more focused on the all male Space Marines or the male dominated Imperial Guard and the truth is Rebirth further proves this point. As read in the summary, all female army of the Adeptas Sororitas are said to be an important part of the story, but they are rather neglected in the text. Only a handful of chapters are dedicated to their actions and even less when they and the Salamanders fight together. It is quite disappointing and further reinforces the notion that geekdom still remains a boys club, even though it has been proven that women are a major portion of science fiction fandom, if not a larger portion, than men.
While Bookworm can’t say he is huge fan of the Sororitas from what he has read, they do have a fascinating lore and it would be nice to hear more tales of their adventures. The concept of female Space Marines, is one that Bookworm is open to. There are dozens of books about the Adeptus Astartes but there are only three or four about the Adeptas Sororitas, the all female army of the Imperium of Man. Games Workshop really needs to step up and diversify or else it will become increasingly irrelevant.
This also lends to an extension of another flaw of the book and one that is also common in many Warhammer Books, in that is tries to juggle to many story lines at once. The text head hops something fierce, there are times when four perspectives are being seen, sometimes during the same chapter. It can get extremely confusing at some points and raises the question as to why the author did not simply write a separate novel altogether. This may be due to the fact that the author is trying to set up plot lines for future books but the truth is the execution can be sloppy at some points.
Final Verdict: Maybe a little jumbled in a few places, but Rebirth is a fantastic tale that is sure to bring about a new age of the forty first millennium. Action, intrigue, and ancient myth tie together that makes readers itch for the next one.
