2013.12.10 22:25 penguinopph We Pride March for Macragge!
2016.05.26 21:52 electricshout The 9th Legion of the Imperium.
2010.05.14 01:28 /r/Warhammer40k - Unofficial Home of 40k on Reddit
2023.06.08 06:30 Mayor_of_the_redline Sanguinius by @_GoldRiver
|Mayor_of_the_redline to ImaginaryWarhammer [link] [comments]|
2023.06.08 04:31 LordMorionix1093 POV: Eres la linea de tiempo donde Horus tenia el plan perfecto contra Sanguinius
|submitted by LordMorionix1093 to Warhammer40kEsp [link] [comments]|
2023.06.08 04:09 Far_Disaster_3557 Deathwatch “Death Angels” Thread
Several threads this week about Blood Angels who give in to the Black Rage and would normally get placed in the Death Companies. Here’s my take.submitted by Far_Disaster_3557 to deathwatch40k [link] [comments]
*”Deep in the Segmentum Pacificus is an asteroid field which used to be a huge planet. Concealed upon one of these asteroids was built a Watch Fortress, where a secret obscured for millennia is still kept.
Regulus Fortress is, in most other respects, an otherwise normal Watch Fortress; indeed, Strike Force Regulus is quite busy lately across the Segmentum.
However, Regulus has a particular component: The Death Angels. These are Blood Angels (and successor chapters) who—while serving the Deathwatch— succumb to the Black Rage that curses all bloodlines of Sanguinius.
Rather than immediate execution, or attempting to imprison and ship the Watch Brother back to their home (requiring great use of time and resources), these poor souls are transferred immediately to Strike Force Regulus.
Once at Regulus, the cursed battle brothers are placed into a new company, under the command of a Deathwatch Blood Angels Chaplain specifically tasked to care for and provide guidance to all Sanguinius’ Sons for their final mission or missions before the Black Rage claims them.
These chaplains are an unbroken line back to the beginning of the Deathwatch, and each carried the title of ‘Brother Bone’ along with an ancient suit of power armor the color of an old ossuary, trimmed in bright gold.
The armor of these “Death Angels” is a dark, rich red, trimmed in black—but retaining their bright silver Deathwatch arm and helmet, as a symbols of their Black Vigil and veteran status. They are hyper-aggressive and inclined to tear Xenos foes to shreds—perfect for special-issue jump packs and fielded as Vanguard Veterans.”*
Imma use this thread as a WIP for this unit. —Indomitus chaplain incoming to be kitbashed into Brother Bone. Delivery Friday. —Prime and zenithal probably tomorrow. —Need some Blood Angels successor chapter shoulders. Sigh.
2023.06.08 01:14 Negative_Sock4219 History of the Swarmlords battles pre 10th!
”He landed lightly upon the gory corpse of a fallen giant. Before him the swarmlord loomed, taller than a wraithknight and greatly more massive. Its eyes glittered at him with malign intelligence.
‘Great Dragon!’ Yriel called, holding aloft the Spear of Twilight. ‘I come to slay you, as my forefather Ulthanash slew the wyrm Draoch-var with this very blade!’
Three huge creatures lumbered at Yriel, directed by the psychic command of the leader-beast, but he leapt aside from their swipes, the spear granting him unparalleled reflexes. One and then another fell, pierced by the pin point lance beams of the prince’s followers as he bounded closer to his prey. Roaring, the swarmlord attacked, driving down a claw twelve paces long at Yriel. He back-flipped, the wind of its passing stirring his hair. The tip of the claw slammed down into a carcass, slowing the hive tyrant for the merest heartbeat as it tugged it free, but it was enough. The prince landed on his feet. Smoothly he drew back his arm and cast the spear of Ulthanash at the creature. The spear screamed a polyphonic wrath-song as it hurtled through the air, passing in an eyeblink to pierce the jaw of the swarmlord, drive up through the soft mouth into the swollen brain case, and emerge, gleaming, from the top of the armoured skull.
The swarmlord toppled, lifeless. Yriel yelled in exultation, feeling more alive than he had in many cycles. He had become jaded by his life as a corsair. But this! This was the theatre of life full in the round!
”A single pod cut through the toxic fumes and the burning sky, hammering into the centre of the plain and the milling confusion of the alien horde. There was an instant realignment, like constellations suddenly clarified in the heavens. The army turned as one, unified by singular purpose once more. The thing which tore itself free from the spore-pod was immense, the pinnacle of genetic mastery and a paragon of inhuman might. The greatest bio-scholars of Terra could not decide whether it was a consciousness in its own right, or an immune response of the hive mind – brought into being when the tide was set against it.
The swarmlord raised its head and bellowed as it rushed forward to meet them.
iIt closed the distance in what seemed like moments. A blur, the storm given form. Blades scissored down against the Custodians. They blocked, even their movements too slow. Bio-electric fields warred with the power fields of their weapons in a whine of feedback and a shower of sparks. It forced Varamach to his knees, and the great cleaver blade descended, burying itself in the armour of his neck. There was a spasm and a gout of blood, and he had only a moment to drive his spear up and into its flesh before he fell. Another loss, too massive to countenance. Natreus ducked under its guard and slashed across its chest, but the swarmlord brought all four of its blades to bear. It pinned Natreus, blades barely containing him as he struggled, blood coating them in furious smears. The Custodian’s spear fell from his grasp, and the swarmlord cast him to the dust.*
Only Tamerlain remained. He broke into a run, swinging his axe as he advanced. The heavy castellan blade impacted against one of the boneswords, chipping it. There was no surprise in its dead eyes, only a snarl of alien hate.
‘This is His domain,’ Tamerlain said, not caring whether or not it could hear or understand. ‘I am His servant, and you shall not end me with my duty yet undone.’ He moved beneath its dance of blades, feeling them scrape against his armour – turned aside by angle, speed and the armour’s inherent strength. It snarled, dripping venom as it stabbed down at him. He dropped to his knees, his hand finding Natreus’ spear. ‘Forgive me,’ he whispered, and drove the unpowered blade up with such force that it cracked the monster’s armoured sternum. It slammed one of its blade limbs into his side, and he brought his axe up again. An arm flew free in a gush of sour fluid, and it batted him aside with the flat of another blade.
They were evenly matched. Opposites. Mirrors. One the pinnacle of human genetic mastery, the other a crescendo of accelerated hyper-evolution. One was golden, the other base.
They fought down the burning slopes, even as the tyranid swarm wove around them in a tightening noose. By-blows obliterated swathes of brood organisms. The swarmlord did not care as it scythed through its own, as it drove Tamerlain back. He fought with every century of his experience behind him. He could feel the names carved into his armour, pressed against his flesh. Each carried a burden.
He moved as fast as he was able, raising his axe to block and parry or to cut and slash. Their melee devolved into a grinding brawl, drawn out and bitter. He tensed as he fought, feeling the dull ache of fatigue. He struck for its thorax, cleaving it open even as it brought two of its blades round.
It pincered him in place. He felt something break in his armour’s systems, his gauntlet clenching in palsy. He closed his eyes and focused. It was more gruelling and more intense than any Blood Game he had run in the service of the Throne, more pressing than any battle of his long years. He felt his fingers close, finally, around the hilt of his misericordia dagger, and pulled it free. He pushed it up and drove it into the thing’s snarling visage. Dissonator spirits engaged with a flare and the blade blazed golden for a glorious instant as it sank through flesh and chitin. The beasts screamed, every last one of them howling in animal agony.
Tamerlain kicked out his leg and drove the dying monster back. Behind him, the world roared again – in sympathetic victory.
" Fifty yards away was the largest hive tyrant Dante had ever seen. Upon backward-hinged legs it stood taller than a Dreadnought. Red spore clouds pumped from the chimneys on its high back. Bonded to its fists were four matched boneswords, with heavy ends as square and brutal as cleavers. He had heard of this thing, the galaxy’s bane, the hive mind personified.
Commander Dante faced the Swarm Lord.
His perception coalesced around the monster. Reality reasserted itself, his visions driven off by the sheer physicality of the hive mind. The past gave way to the present. The sounds of battle returned, albeit muted. The horde was broken into pieces. The howling of his blood-mad warriors was scattered, so isolated there could only have been a few of them left.
In the monster’s eyes glimmered an ancient and powerful intellect. As old as he was, Dante felt like a newborn babe compared to the intelligence staring at him through that unblinking gaze. He sensed that there were two beings looking at him. The monster, and the being that controlled it. They were separate, yet one. A sense of crushing psychic might emanated from it, so great its grasp encompassed galaxies. There was sophistication there, and terrifying intelligence, but all were outweighed by its bottomless, eternal hunger.
For the moment that the man and the monster stared into one another’s souls, Dante pitied it. The hunger of the hive mind made the Red Thirst trivial by comparison.
A rumble sounded in the monster’s throat. Muscle fibres exposed by gaps in its chitinous armour contracted; that was all the warning Dante received. There was no threat display, no roar to intimidate, it simply hurled itself into the attack. The hive mind was nothing if not efficient.
Despite its size, the Swarm Lord moved with staggering speed. Its alien anatomy made its attacks difficult to predict, and Dante found himself fending off a blur of jagged bone. Crystal veins glittered in the blades, generating a shimmering energy field like none Dante was familiar with.
The Swarm Lord’s weapons met the Axe Mortalis with a thunderous boom. Dante reeled back from the blow, letting out a brief blast from his jump pack to steady himself, dodging narrowly to the right to avoid a return strike from the Swarm Lord’s two left-hand swords. He ignited his jump pack fully, making a short leap backwards as the swords from the right smashed into the desert where he had been standing. The energy field encasing the blade exploded the sand.
As the beast slammed down its weapons he snapped off a quick shot with the perdition pistol. His aim was honed by centuries of practice. The meltabeam cut a roiling line through the air, connecting with the Swarm Lord’s lower left elbow joint. An explosion of steam carried the smell of broiled meat out towards Dante, and the thing’s arm went limp.
It made no cry of pain. As it moved forward, its useless arm snagged on the ground. With an total lack of human emotion, it severed the crippled limb with a sword blow and moved in to re-engage. Dante leapt again, jets on full burn. He swooped low, darting in to strike and withdraw. His fuel indicators plummeted, but Dante remained aloft, soaring away from bonesword strikes with expertly timed exhaust bursts. His blows left a dozen smoking scars in the Swarm Lord’s carapace. It responded with a buffeting storm of psychically generated terror that had no effect on the Space Marine lord, so deep in the thirst was he. The thirst grew in Dante until he stood on the brink of the Black Rage, a pit he could never climb from. He resisted the urge to finally throw himself in. The strength this last surrender would grant him would be formidable, but his mind would be gone for good, and so he would perish. Not until this thing was slain would he abandon his last shreds of self-control. He had to know that it was dead.
He focused on his hate, on his desire to kill, on his need to rip this interloper’s head from its shoulders and cast it to the sand.
The Swarm Lord’s armour was thickest on its shoulders, head and back. They duelled for long minutes, Dante landing so many blows that the edge of his fabled axe dulled, and its power unit vented black smoke. All his skill could draw but a little blood. The Swarm Lord snapped and swung at him with undiminished might.
Dante needed a decisive blow soon. The Swarm Lord’s endurance would outlast his own, and one lucky strike from the beast’s weapons could end the fight long before exhaustion set in. So Dante dived in again, axe held low in the manner of a cavalryman stooping in the saddle to strike with his sabre. Jinking through swinging boneswords and into the spore cloud issuing from the Swarm Lord’s chimneys, he raked the blade of his weapon across the leader beast’s face, catching it across one eye. He was momentarily blinded by the swirl of red microorganisms belching from its back, and forced to touch down.
The two combatants wheeled to face each other. The chitin around the Swarm Lord’s right eye was cut down to a gleam of bone. Ichor and humours from its ravaged eye wet its cheek.
Dante smiled coldly. ‘I shall take your other eye, and then I shall kill you.’ In return the leader beast shrieked, a psychic assault that channelled the polyphonous voice of the hive mind into a concentrated mental blow. Dante reeled under the combined sonic-psionic blast. Something gave inside him. He tasted blood at the back of his throat. His mind suffered more than his body, and he staggered back, dazed, his axe dragging through the sand.
The Swarm Lord seized the opportunity and ran at the commander again. Dante blasted backwards, but even as it charged the Swarm Lord assailed Dante with fresh psychic attacks, sending out a lance of psionic energy that cut through his armour into his leg and knocked Dante wheeling from the air. He slammed into the ground with bone-jarring force. His face slammed into his helm, breaking his nose. The terror field halo around Sanguinius’ golden mask buckled and gave out in a skittering crawl of psychic energy. His iron halo’s energy field failed with a bang.
The thing screamed again. Dante’s being was deadened from the soul outward. His vision swam. The energy his thirst gave him was stolen away. The Swarm Lord thundered at him, head down, three swords back, ready to strike. Dante regained enough of his wits just in time, activating his jump pack while he was still on his back. The jets sent him scraping across the ancient rockcrete and sand of the landing fields at high speed, drawing a shower of sparks from his armour. Alarms wailed from every system of his battleplate.
A second, brain-rattling impact shook him as he connected with the wreck of a Land Raider. The systems diagnostics for his jump pack wailed at high alert, red danger runes blinking all over his helmplate. With a thought, he jettisoned his jump pack, rolling free of the stuttering jump unit as the Swarm Lord barrelled into the tank wreck with such force it lifted from the ground. The Swarm Lord turned on him quickly, grinding Dante’s jump pack into a pool of fire and sundered metal under its broad hooves. The Land Raider slammed back down.
More alarms rang in Dante’s helm. On standard battleplate, a jump pack took the place of a Space Marine’s reactor pack, replicating most of its functions as well as providing limited flight capability. Without it, Dante was left in a suit of armour with only residual power.
He had seconds left of combat effectiveness at the most. Emergency battery icons clamoured for his attention, bars sliding quickly down to red emptiness.
The Swarm Lord screamed. Psychically induced horror buffeted Dante’s mind, tormenting him with dread. Dante roared back, unafraid.
‘I am of the Lord of the Blood,’ he said, as he broke into a run, the alarms of his dying armour wailing in his ears. ‘What I do, I do for he who made me. No personal ambition is mine. No glory do I seek. No salvation for my soul or comfort for my body. No fear do I feel.’ The Swarm Lord swung at Dante hard. Dante retaliated with a counter blow, shattering the bone sabre. Thick alien fluids pumped from the broken blade. The eye set into its hilt rolled madly, and it began to shrill. ‘By his Blood was I saved from the selfishness of flesh.’
The Swarm Lord was unmoved by the death of its symbiotic blade. The stroke continued downward, the remains of the sword catching Dante below his breastplate and penetrating his plastron. A combination of Dante’s impetus and the Swarm Lord’s immense strength punched the bone fragment deep into his body, penetrating his secondary heart, scraping on his spine, and exiting the other side of his torso.
The creature snarled in what would have been triumph in any other species. Dante’s formidable progress was arrested. Hissing deeply, the Swarm Lord lifted Commander Dante off the ground, armour and all. Warm blood ran down inside Dante’s bodyglove. Toxins leaked from the Swarm Lord’s weapon, sending spiders of agony crawling along his nerves.
‘By his Blood was I elevated.’ It was over. He began the Mors Votum. The Swarm Lord lifted him high, screaming in victory, and swung its arm down to flick Dante from the blade’s shard so it might finish him on the sand.
Reactive foams bubbled from Dante’s armour, bonding him firmly to the remnants of the Swarm Lord’s blade.
‘By his Blood do I serve.’
The beast hesitated, only for a fraction of a second, but it was enough. As it was raising its remaining two blades to cut Dante in two, the commander raised the perdition pistol. His armour died on him, its systems starved of power, growing heavier with every second as his life ran from his body. His aim did not waver.
‘My life I give to the Emperor, to Sanguinius, and to mankind,’ he intoned. The Swarm Lord’s face was reflected in the dulled metal of Dante’s mask.
Sanguinius’ face shouted silently at the hive mind.
Dante disengaged the weapon’s failsafes with a flick of his thumb.
‘My service is done. I give thanks. My life is finished. I give thanks. Blood returns to blood. Another will take up my burden in my stead. I give thanks.’
He fired the perdition pistol at point-blank range into the Swarm Lord’s face. Its flesh liquefied and boiled off as superheated steam. Its first bonesword bounced from Dante’s armour, ripping long scratches into its decoration. Bloodstones fell from their mounts. Still Dante held his aim true. The pistol’s power pack grew so hot with thermal feedback it blistered his skin through his ceramite. Still he did not relent. The fusion beam bored through the creature’s organic armour. Thermic biogels bled from cavities in the chitin, but they could not stay the perdition pistol’s beam. The weapon glowed with white heat. The Swarm Lord reared backwards. Its cries became gurgles as its tongue cooked in its head. Desperate to be free of Dante, it severed its own wrist with a clumsy strike. Dante blacked out for a moment from the pain of the bone shard jarring his organs as he hit the floor. When he came to he was lying on the ground. The Swarm Lord slumped to its knees alongside him. Its movements were feeble. Keening quietly, it fell forward, chest heaving. Air whistled through its breathing spiracles, then ceased. Dante rolled his head to one side. One of the boneswords lay close to his face. The eye set into its hilt stared hatred at him before dimming. The pupil dilated. The sword, too, was dead.
Dante took a painful breath. Fluid bubbled in his lungs. His body ached all over from the tyranid’s poison.
He was dying."
2023.06.07 23:04 AceGree Sanguinius from Warhammer 40k. Primarch of The Blood Angels and omega perfect boi.
|submitted by AceGree to HeroForgeMinis [link] [comments]|
2023.06.07 22:47 Endarox909 Sell me on Blood Angels
2023.06.07 19:26 Vextor17 How I got into warhammer 40k 4-5 years ago
|submitted by Vextor17 to VirtualYoutubers [link] [comments]|
2023.06.07 19:25 Vextor17 Basically how I got into 40k 4-5 years ago
|submitted by Vextor17 to Grimdank [link] [comments]|
2023.06.07 19:02 Endarox909 Why Dark Angels
2023.06.07 15:29 KeyEntrepreneur1816 Konrad Curze!
2023.06.07 12:47 Mistahsac Why doesn't Guilliman Take off his armour and don it on his brothers to revive them.
2023.06.07 01:51 TruckerWilliams [Spoilers] Father Day is coming up soon so I thought it would be fun to see how each of Primarchs feel about The Emperor so here every quote I could find on them giving their opinion.
2023.06.06 23:55 Calackyo When an 'assassinate' turns into an ambush.
Couldn't have been closer to losing a mech, can't believe Glitch made it out alive. Everyone is getting a raise next month for this.submitted by Calackyo to Battletechgame [link] [comments]
2023.06.06 17:47 rEEfman_SK Lore bits from The Lost and the Damned [excerpt]
‘They are almost incalculable in size. There are representatives from every Traitor Legion within the Solar System. He commands thousands of regiments of traitor soldiery, hundreds of Knightly houses, dozens of Titan Legios, which though they were diminished at Beta-Garmon,’ he indicated Sanguinius, ‘still outnumber our own. Now the innersystem blockade has been swept aside, the unified forces of the Dark Mechanicum are heading for Terra from Mars. We are beset on all sides.’On the size of incoming Guilliman's army.
‘Horus brought most of his armies here. Roboute’s forces are formidable. When I left him, he was busy sending orders that Ultramar and all the Ultima Segmentum be emptied of men. More forces flock to him on the way, including elements of Vulkan’s and Corax’s Legions we thought lost. When he arrives, it will be at the head of a force the near match of Horus’ said Sanguinius.Malcador explains why the Primarchs - except one - were not briefed about Warp. Which one was it? The book does not say. I think it was either Lion, Russ or Corvus.
‘My boy,’ said Malcador wearily, ‘you cannot understand because matters of the spirit were not given you to understand by your father. I could explain them at length and you most of all would never comprehend. Do you not think if it were possible that I or your father could have explained them already, that you would have been told of the threat in the warp from the very beginning?’Seems like Malcador knew Sanguinius will die in Siege of Terra.
‘I deeply regret that it was not done,’said Dorn.
‘The results would have been disastrous, believe me,’said Malcador.
‘Not telling us was arguably worse,’said Dorn.
‘Was it?’ said Malcador softly. ‘Very well. Let us take you, Dorn. You were made to command the material realm. Nothing in this world is beyond your grasp. But understanding of the warp would have eluded you. Being a man who desires mastery of all things, you would have been drawn to study it, and in doing so, you would have fallen. You are resistant to the dangers in the dark, but no one is immune.’ He paused. ‘Only one of you had the mettle to resist the whispers of the gods at the start. He was told.’
‘Who the Emperor told is not important. Even now it is better that you do not know,’ said Malcador. ‘To name the powers in the empyrean is to invite their attention. The knowledge alone is corrupting – that is all you need to know now, and far more than you needed to know then.’
‘You must perform your part. I shall perform mine when the time comes.’ As one of the few men in all existence who could look into a primarch’s eye without flinching, Malcador met the gaze of each of the three loyal sons in turn. ‘All of you have your parts to play in this struggle.’ He smiled sadly at Sanguinius, and the Angel looked aside.The Phalanx was not a part of Siege of Terra, because Dorn wanted to use it for the evacuation of the Emperor.
‘If Terra falls, the Emperor must survive,’ said Dorn. ‘We all agree that the Emperor, not Terra, is Horus’ objective. The Phalanx represents our best chance of effecting His escape. Only my flagship has any chance of fighting in and out of the system to carry Him away. In all other cases, the perimeter ships will remain out of engagement range until Roboute approaches,’ said Dorn.Dorn admits that Alpharius was not entirely pro-Horus. This ties to my theory that Alpharius was running the Orpheus protocol for a long time - https://www.reddit.com/40kLore/comments/13xz11w/another_alpha_legion_theory_spoilers/ .
‘Could Mortarion have had a change of heart?’ wondered Sanguinius aloud. ‘I am certain few of our brothers expected to find themselves allied with daemons. Mortarion least of all – you know how much he hates the warp.’The Primarchs did not know that Vulkan is perpetual. Kurze has definitely found out the wrong way - hammertime.
Dorn’s eyes narrowed. He thought momentarily of Alpharius. When the twentieth primarch infiltrated the Solar System, he had spoken with Dorn, and what he said could have been interpreted as contrition. Dorn had not listened, and had slain Alpharius at Pluto, a fact he still kept from his brothers.
A sly look crept across Malcador’s face.The Emperor was apparently close to completing the Webway gate on Terra.
‘Vulkan lives,’ he said.
The shock visible on Sanguinius, Dorn and the Khan’s faces gratified the Sigillite, and he smiled like a conjuror pleased with the effects of a trick.
‘I’m sorry?’ said Dorn.
‘What do you mean, Malcador?’ said Sanguinius. ‘I saw him dead upon Macragge. I witnessed his corpse borne away by his sons myself!’
‘Vulkan’s corpse is not like other corpses. The Salamanders took him back to Nocturne, where they were successful in restoring him to life. Vulkan has… certain abilities, as you all do,’ said Malcador.
‘Disaster struck when He was close to completion. Your brother Magnus, my lords, was loyal, but arrogant. In his hubris, he used sorcery to warn the Emperor of Horus’ treachery. The sorcery he employed, that he had been forbidden from, destroyed the wards around the bridge, and all the foes of men came rushing in.’This one is very hotly debated topic in this subreddit, but Malcador clearly says (could be lying though) that Horus pushed Russ to kill Magnus.
‘That is where Valdor’s men were for so long when you returned, my brothers,’ Dorn said to Jaghatai and Sanguinius.
‘So Russ was sent to punish Magnus without reason,’said Sanguinius.In 40k the Emperor cannot leave the Golden Throne or be externally killed, because he is holding the warpgate on Terra closed.
‘Not without reason,’ said Malcador. ‘But the chastisement was never meant to be so harsh. We determined to despatch the Wolf King to bring Magnus back to Terra for censure for defying the judgement of the Council of Nikaea. Horus manipulated the order.’
‘Let me explain, Constantin,’ Malcador said. He paused to gather his thoughts before he went on. ‘What none of you know is that your father is trapped upon the device He created to keep the bridge to the webway open. It was intended to be a temporary measure, until the Mechanicum could stabilise the conduit. But all their work was destroyed. If He leaves the Throne now, the doors into the warp will open, and Terra will drown under a tide of Neverborn and all their infinite malice.’
2023.06.06 13:50 Urungulu BA Dread - Lib, or DC?
2023.06.06 09:41 SonofaBeholder Looking for Feedback on my Custom Blood Angels Successor Chapter. Also, Name Suggestions welcome :)
With 10th edition coming up it’s finally time to start a new chapter I’ve been thinking about for awhile. Their theme is doctors: this chapter fields a higher-than-average number of Apothecaries, and each novitiate must be trained not only in treating their fellow Astartes, but in medical practices for the average guardsman before they are allowed to join the ranks of the Sanguinary Priests. They do this for 3 reasons:submitted by SonofaBeholder to impcat [link] [comments]
1.) they are in a largely isolated section of the Segmentum Pacificus and don’t see other chapters that often, working with the local arm of the IG most commonly.
2.) following Sanguinius’ practices in caring for humanity.
3.) No one is gonna question why they need so much blood if they are doubling up as battlefield medics ;)
Sanguinary Priests hold such a high honor within the chapter that the Sanguinary High Priest (chief Apothecary) is always the heir to title of Chapter Master and second in command of the chapter as a whole.
Their other theme is classic blood angels rapid assault: lots of storm ravens/talons and jumppack troops, to the point their first company doesn’t field any terminators, rather it’s all vanguard veterans/ sanguinary guard.
When a marine is committed to the death company, their former battle brothers join for a company-wide funeral ceremony (think kinda like the Legion of the Dead from Dragon Age), after which the marine is treated as deceased. These Death Company marines are dressed out in full bone-white with black markings to indicate they are the chapter’s “ghosts”.
Would appreciate feedback and suggestions on the color scheme. Could also really use help picking a name for these guys.
2023.06.06 04:37 hedginator Gret Angel, Pale King, Fulgrim, or Dark Imperium?
2023.06.06 04:36 hedginator Great Angel, Pale King, Dark Imperium, or Fulgrim?
2023.06.05 22:36 Henkjanpizzaman Horus vs sanguinius WIP (Model by STLproject)
Currentlg working on Sanguinius, but i figured id share Horus in the meantimesubmitted by Henkjanpizzaman to minipainting [link] [comments]
2023.06.05 19:35 TonberryFeye [Fan creation] Organisation of, and progression through, a Primaris Space Marine Chapter
2023.06.05 16:44 Furyofthe1st Not to downplay Sanguinius and the Khan, but if it had been two other legions, we'd be in a very different galaxy.
|submitted by Furyofthe1st to Grimdank [link] [comments]|
2023.06.05 11:50 TheAngel_Sanguinius A broadcast has been heard on every vox and radio receiver in the galaxy…
Sanguinius’ voice is transmitted far and wide, a rallying cry for the Imperiumsubmitted by TheAngel_Sanguinius to MultiverseOfWar [link] [comments]
“Go not softly into that good night. Old age should burn and rave at close of day. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.
And you, my father, there on that sad height, Curse, bless me now with your fierce tears I pray. Go not softly into that good night. Rage, rage against the dying of the light.”