#sisterofsilence

[delusionalartaficionado]

when someone says something so heretical you just.

By TheFearMaster

[askrobouteguilliman40k]

If Angron is Sparta

If Guilliman is Athens

If Perturabo is Thebes.

... Is Fulgrim Carthage?

[wolffyluna]

For the alternative fuck/marry/kill meme - Fulgrim, Dorn & Angron.

• get randomly assigned as your lab partner for a whole semester:

Ideally, Dorn. He strikes me as the sort of person who would be detail oriented and want to do the work himself so it gets done right. Yay, l get to be lazy. Except, for the purposes of this game, I have to work around the fact that one of these people is Angron, and I don’t want to try and learn anything from Angron, and I definitely don’t want to be trapped somewhere with him. However, I think I can pick up the slack of someone with a murder migraine in the lab. So I’ll go for Angron.

• get trapped with on a broken elevator for ten hours

Fulgrim. I think he’d be too perfectionist for employee training, but he’d be fun to talk to in an elevator.

• get as my employee trainer for my new job at McDonalds

Dorn. He seems like a good teacher.

[screamingatthevoid]

A loyalist Night Lord? Do the thing! I definitely want to know more about that one

[OC Character Profile]: Kazik the Impaler

Full Name: Karign Ziklu

Gender and Sexuality: Nominally male, but more like agender really, aromantic asexual

Pronouns: He/him/his, though lots of people use ‘it’, ‘monster’, or ‘aaagh!’. He doesn’t really care.

Ethnicity/Species: Nostraman (i.e. basically allergic to sunlight), transhuman (homo astartes)

Birthplace and Birthdate: Nostramo Quintus c.860.M30 (about 4 months after the coming of the Emperor - I wrote a story about it)

Guilty Pleasures: Reading the Lectitio Divinitatus, praying to the God-Emperor, self-scarification, flaying people alive, dressing as a maid.

Phobias: The fate that awaits his sinful soul…

What They Would Be Famous For: Impaling (the clue’s in the name)

What They Would Get Arrested For: Innumerable counts of torture, murder, mutilation, grave desecration, genocide, treason, unsanctioned witchcraft…

OC You Ship Them With: Kazik & Suijin (a White Scar of the sagyar mazan) is the BroTP before Suijin gets murdered by a black raging Blood Angel.

OC Most Likely To Murder Them: @danzhuge’s Culexus, Sylvie, although @crunchykhorneflake’s Khorne Berzerker Blood Angel has already had a go.

Favorite Movie/Book Genre: Horror, probably. He prefers it live action though, if you know what I mean.

Least Favorite Movie/Book Cliche: Angsty edgelords on redemption arcs (a.k.a. him).

Talents and/or Powers: Psyker with modest powers of divination, great at flaying and impaling.

Why Someone Might Love Them: I really couldn’t imagine.

Why Someone Might Hate Them: He’s a terrible person.

How They Change: He’s changed from a total psychopath to a total psychopath trying to be better and worshipping the God-Emperor and, while in the RPG he’s likely to change from alive to dead before that redemption arc goes any further, in fic he will go on to become one of the first Red Brethren of the Carcharodons.

Why You Love Them: He’s trying to be a better person and hasn’t the faintest idea how. It would be adorable and hilarious if it wasn’t brutal and horrifying.

[ask-constantinvaldor]

Daily report

Aella, one of the Ligo Aetos found an old film from the archives called Wonder Woman. As Captain-General, I invoked my authority to muster the Ten Thousand, Ligo Aetos, Silent Sisterhood and Ordo Sinister for movie night. The movie was quite enjoyable.

[pureirishnonsense]

On Foreign Sands

It was, Abbadon mused, a long while since he had simply stood and admired the light of the sun, felt the touch of the sea air on his skin. And it was a long while since he had gone without the Cataphractii Plate that he had lived most of his life in.

But Horus had mandated that in their Crusade, perhaps a well earned respite would do them all well. Loken, ever the straight arrow, had wondered if the Legion would be better served using the respite time to train and rehearse war theory. Torgaddon, ever the trickster, just laughed, and had already assembled his company on the beach. Loken, never one to stray too far from his friend, had brought his battle brothers to step upon the sands. It was a sight, seeing nearly four thousand Astartes, bare of plate or bolter, standing on the shorelines, in the cool, crashing waves and climbing the cliff sides, seeming to relish the moment to relax.

Torgaddon had taken most of his brothers up to climb the pale chalk cliffs, urging them up, laughing. Loken contented himself with brisk walks along the grasslands on the edge of the beach, jogging with most of his own. Little Horus and his cohort seemed to favour swimming, some diving deep, others rushing in the Shallows. Even Horus Lupercal, conqueror of worlds, Great Warmaster, the Emperor’s Chosen, was laughing at the antics of his sons, and had sat himself, his great torso bared to the air.

It had been too long since all of them had simply… relaxed, Abbadon mused, toes curling in the sands, and he snorted, watching Falkus and the other Widowmakers, challenge some of Torgaddon’s mob to tugs of war, long cargo hawsers snapping taut in the grip of entire squads. Abbadon was called over, and he flexed his great hands, and took his place at the fore of one of the ropes. He smirked at one of Torgaddon’s sergeants, and the ropes strained between the two forces.

Up on the grass verge, in the cool air, Loken watched, wincing a little as Abbadon and the rest of the Justaerin hauled their opponents into the sand, kicking up pale sprays of sand. He could hear the First Captain’s cries of jubilation, hands thrown up, as his comrades crowded, shouting with him, laughing, before helping their opponents to their feet, ribbing each other, jesting that of course the First Company would come out on top…

----

Elsewhere, along another shoreline, with equally crystal clear waters, Captain Kharn, Equerry to Angron, was massaging his temples to ease some of the frustrations he was feeling. No doubt Warmaster Horus’ orders were met with joy amongst the less… War hungry Legions, but Angron’s lot found such idleness distressing.

And that was emphasised when Kargos and Delvarus had whipped them into a brawling frenzy, recalling the duelling pits in the holds of the World Eater’s fleets. Rings of Astartes were shouting, jeering and laughing as their brothers fought, fist to fist, kicking and spitting, kicking up great sprays of sand.

Kharn spared a glance for his Primarch, who was watching, standing like a statue at the sand’s edge. Angron’s face had pulled a face of discontent, even as he watched his sons crash at each other. He snarled out a breath, shaking his head. “Horus must be mad,” the Eater of Worlds muttered in his harsh accent. The Equerry refrained from comment, and glanced down. Someone had painted the sand in red, one warrior on his knees, cradling a broken nose. Kargos threw up his arms, cheering, spitting some mongrel curse of victory as everyone cheered for the strike. And Kharn sighed.

“Kargos is going to get too big a head down there… I’ll even him out.”

----

No one was surprised that Kurze and his Legion, pale as death, had refused to join them on the beach.

And it surprised no one in the Night Lord’s Legion that Sevatar, the First Captain, had acted contrary to his Primarch’s orders, and strode amongst Horus’s Sons, eyes behind dark glasses, a black-blue robe about his body, only his calves, hands and face visible, pale as marble, in the sunlight, sharing snide comments and acerbic jokes with the Sixteenth legion.

Kurze, hanging back at the Legion Command Point, glared out over the grasslands, where he could hear the laughter of the Warmaster’s curs. And he squinted in the bright light. Such foolishness… and the fact that his insolent First Captain had taken to the beach only incensed him.

Of course, Kurze would be laughing when Sevatar came back, his exposed skin lobster red from the sun.

---

Sanguinius had not brought many of his Legion Sons to the Warmaster’s side, but when Horus had suggested the respite, he had been glad to hear that. It would do his Legion good to experience peace for a longer time than the travel period in Starship holds.

He had, for himself, brought out charcoals and parchment, and had taken to sketching the sheer drops of the cliffs, the pencil minute in his powerful fingers, one wing raised up to shelter him from the sun, as he sat and drew. Azkellion was at his side, pacing impatiently, as if awaiting an order. Sanguinius had, several times, ordered his Honour Guard commander to go to the shore and rest. Azkellion had pulled a face, and Sanguinius laughed, and suggested that the Guard Commander had smelt something foul just atop his lip. That had not drawn his officer into laughing.

The Blood Angel glanced down. One of his Legionaries had sprinted up, loincloth sopping wet, skin shining from the sea water and spoke, nervously.

Sanguinius closed his eyes, sighing.

Captain Amit had gone over to the beach where Angron’s Legion had taken to the beach… and had, in his way, started discourse with Kharn and Kargos… And that Discourse had turned heated… then angry… and supposedly, a bit of a brawl had broken out.

He could, if he strained, hear the shouting. Sanguinius sat, pencil still poised to etch out the shade of the cliffs… and the Angel sighed, setting it aside, rising to his feet, and brushed himself down, elegant and poised.

“I shall go before Angron decides to turn the sands red… Azkellion, could you hold my sketches?” he said, his voice musical and soft. “My word, I had hoped that we’d get a restful respite… I shall have words with Amit.”

[saberquill]

Candles in the Dark

Part 1 of 3!  Or if you prefer, you can read the entire thing on AO3. Loosely inspired by @flunkyofmalcador’s fic Happy Hanukkah, Primarch Angron. Yes, it has taken me that long to finish.

Fandom: Warhammer 40k

Characters: Blue, Hecate Silversteel

Genre: Gen

When their shuttle gets shot down over an agriworld, Blue and her mentor Hecate must blend in to the local populace to find a way back to their ship.  However, the small town where they find themselves may have a few secrets of its own- ones that call on a past Blue can't remember.

Blue crossed her arms and looked up at the shuttle.  Las singes ripped across the surface, where it wasn’t filigreed with bullet holes. The flames around the engine had died down, but it would never fly again.  

“Well.”  Hecate brushed herself off.  “Any landing you can walk away from.”

Blue snorted.  “Are you alright?”

“For the most part,” she picked at a singed strand of silver hair.  “We really do need to make sure that new tech novice gets a commendation when we get back to the Invictus.”

“Not if you don’t want Mars on our ass.”  Blue shook her head.  “Just say the ship flew well and tell them they did good work.  They’ll be happy with that.”

Hecate laughed.  “Of course, fist we have to return alive.  Which may take some doing…”  She walked over to the wreckage, circling around it once.  The expression on her face was thoughtful, closer to someone looking at an unsolved puzzle than a life-threatening emergency.

Blue nodded.  “It’ll take a distress call will take weeks to reach the Invictus.   Assuming we can even send one safely.”  She looked up, scanning the skies.  So far they were empty, but it was only a matter of time.

“It is likely they won’t take it on faith that the crash killed us.”   Hecate said, noticing the direction of Blue’s glance.  “We could use that to our advantage.  Stage a more vivid accident.  Something… showy.”

“You want flames?  ‘Cause I can do flames.  Bodies, on the other hand…”

“That’s why I said showy.  It should look bad enough that they won’t bother checking too closely.”  She raised her eyebrows.  “Unless you’ve lost your touch?”

Blue ignored her.  “Ok, then what?”

“Hmmmm,” Hecate hummed, “I think I noticed a village a few kilometers away while we were going down.”

Blue crossed her arms.  “And how do we know that’s not where they’re hiding?”

“I know our quarry,” she insisted.  “This particular sect of Slanneshi are over-the-top, even among their fellows.  If the walls aren’t decorated in macramé made from human entrails, they’ve never even visited.”

“Well,” Blue sighed.  “It may not be a perfect plan, but it’s the best we’ve got.”

“Why thank you.  It’s good to know those twenty-five years with the Inquisition haven’t entirely gone to waste.”

“You know what I mean.”

Hecate rolled her eyes.  “Well, I hope what you meant was ‘thank you Lord Inquisitor Silversteel, now I’ll kindly do as you command.’ If it wasn’t it really should be.”

“Absolutely.  Your word is, as always, my command.”  Blue tried for deadpan, but couldn’t quite hide a smirk.

Hecate raised an eyebrow.  “Yes, I thought so.  Now, flames?”

Blue snapped her fingers.  Cobalt fire sprang up around the wreck.  Most of the fuel was still sitting in the tank, the flames scrabbling for purchase on the heretically reinforced metal.  She focused, pushing through the chemical coating, drawing the fire in with her.   The explosion swept safely to each side, leaving the shuttle a twisted husk.

[commissar-fotze-blog]

Another one bites the dust!

Sisterofsilence has blocked me boohoo 😭 I guess she can't handle the truth. The one that consists of her fan art being shit.