Nature vs. Nurture, the What If? edition

[Rune Priest Ridcully]

Just read the bit about Dorn after I posted.. You feel so sorry for him, but also wonder about how on earth he would be given a legion considering the state he was in. Loved the description of Magnus and Angron.

[Hyaenidae]

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[Kol Saresk]

I'm still trying to figure out how Nostraman Curze got a Legion.....

[Rune Priest Ridcully]

Well, he hadn't wiped out a whole planet with his bare hands...
Does anyone know what the Salamanders were called before finding their Primarch?

[Kol Saresk]

But according to a glimpse in that Forgeworld video, he did eat the dead. Not exactly sure which is worse.

[Conn Eremon]

I heard a rumor that it was Imperial Rams. I know not of its veracity.

 

I've got an idea to put up in a bit.

[calgar101]

This is very interesting to read. Angron to me could very much have been like Alexander the Great, when I read Betrayer I had visions of him creating his own 'Ultramar' had he not been cursed with the nails. I shall be following this.

[Wade Garrett]

LORGAR, PRIMARCH OF THE IMPERIAL HOUNDS

"Of course you want to be a warrior. All young men do...it's why so many of them die before their time. But we're not that important...not really. Consider. The farmer tills the land and grows the crops that feed a city. Within the city's walls, children play, poets and artists create lasting works of beauty, and philosophers and priests bring learning to the people. And then comes the warrior, with a burning brand and a shining sword. He kills the farmer, sets fire to the crops, breaks open the city walls, beats the wives and daughters, and sows hatred like a seed. When he comes, there are only two choices. Flee...or send for men like me."

"But jarl, you are a great warrior, and you aren't like that!"

"I make no excuses for what I am, lad. I wasn't strong enough to be a farmer."

~Exchange between Lorgar Cleftjaw and Bjorn Shieldbearer, upon the latter's induction into his Legion.

Little is known of the Primarch Lorgar's early years upon Fenris. The world's people are often reluctant to speak to outsiders, but a few reliable facts can be ascertained from the sagas of the XVII Legion. The young boy's incubation pod landed on the freezing deathworld, and the infant staggered into one of the world's primitive settlements in the middle of a howling snowstorm. Most of the tribesmen were certain he was some sort of changeling evil spirit, except for a widowed farmwife who rebuked them for a pack of superstitious fools and took the boy to raise as her own.

Shunned by most of village for his unusual origin and the violent seizures and visions that sometimes overcame him, the boy learned the arts of agriculture and carpentry while most of those his age were learning the axe and sword. Such combat experience as he possessed he gained while battling against the packs of Fenrisian Thunder Wolves that sought to prey on his family's flock.

It was while Lorgar was away watching his sheep that his life would change forever. He saw smoke rising from the village, and abandoned the livestock to their own devices to investigate. Reavers had come from the sea, and slaughtered almost the entirety of Lorgar's people, including his mother. They had rounded up the choicest of the young men and women to take as slaves when the young Primarch and his dogs stormed out of the woods to confront them.

Upon that day, the villagers saw a new side of the despised weakling "witch boy". Tears for his murdered mother streaming down his face, the golden giant fought like one of the legendary "baresarks", and the only reason any of the raiders survived at all was the few remaining aboard their ship cast off to sea almost as soon as they caught sight of the rampaging demi god falling upon their fellows.

Smearing his face with ashes from his burned village, Lorgar gathered the survivors and vowed to bring an end to the endless cycle of raiding and warring that plagued his homeland. When another band of raiders descended upon the neighboring town a few months later, they got far more than they bargained for. The Primarch had put the lessons he learned from battling the vicious wolf packs to good use, and his ash anointed warriors fell on the sea kings like a storm of wrath. Soon, dozens of villages were under the golden avenger's protection, and under his guidance they began to build ships of their own to hunt the raiders down upon the open seas.

But there was one raider who would not stand idly by and watch his kind hunted into extinction.....

Such records as Imperial remembrancers were allowed access to give little concrete details of this reaver lord, known as Wulfen, the fragments as we were allowed to read telling wild tales of a skinchanging monster with armies of blood red wights wielding bronze blades. What is known for is that his fleet clashed with Lorgar's in a battle that would decide that fate of Fenris, and his black "hell sword" carved the Primarch's face clear to the bone, forever marring Lorgar's golden visage and providing the demigod with his (mocking? respectful? These people's customs make NO SENSE!) nickname "Cleftjaw". But as the warlord prepared to strike the final blow, the Primarch's loyal dogs threw themselves upon him. Wulfen easily slew the noble beasts, but it gave the Emperor's son the time he needed to drive his mighty spear "Hearthguard" into the man's black heart. Never again would the people of Fenris live in fear of the sea raiders.


"Heralds? Are you....heralds are soft skinned things who weave lies like a fire makes smoke. A hound, now...a hound will die for you, and it'll never lie to you. Change the damned name."
~attributed to Primarch Lorgar, upon his first meeting with the Legion forged from his gene seed.

[Hyaenidae]

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[Ace Debonair]

Ok, nobody liked my Fulgrim.

Screw it, let me try again. I'll do the whole thing this time, maybe that'll help.

When the Emperor came to Medusa in search of one of His sons, he found a world in the grip of a renaissance. Whilst still a brutal and unstable world, there were small plateaus of stability amidst the mayhem. Sensing the presence of his kindred, The Emperor made for a cave in the mountains. There, He found the man known to the Medusan people as Fulgrim Dragonslayer, destroyer of Asirnoth. Fulgrim was considered by the clans to be the ruler of Medusa, spending his time working on ways to transform the landscape from a barren wasteland to a world of peace and plenty.

This son of the Emperor, obsessed with technology and art, and driven by a thirst for fresh knowledge, took one look at the Emperor in his gleaming armour, as much a masterwork of form as function, and knelt before Him, offering up the spear he had used to slay Asirnoth and swearing his fealty to the Emperor. The Master of Mankind raised his son up, told him of distant Terra and the Great Crusade, and Fulgrim pledged himself willingly to the Emperor's cause. Fulgrim learned that a terrible accident had befallen his Legion, and much of their geneseed had been destroyed not long after Fulgrim's creation. Upon meeting his Legion, Fulgrim spoke with such impassioned eloquence that the Emperor named the III Legion the Emperor's Children, and allowed them the use of his personal symbol, the Aquila, on their armour.

As the Great Crusade progressed, Fulgrim showed a seemingly never-ending interest in technology, always searching for ways to further transform Medusa into a haven. This love of technology also extended to a complete understanding of war machines. The Dragonslayer never forgot the awe he felt upon seeing the Emperor, and spent much of his time adapting his Legion's armour and vehicles to inspire the same sense of power and splendour. Fulgrim's love of technology was almost infectious amongst his sons, and became widespread within the legion, some members even going so far as to replace ailing or injured limbs with ornate mechanical counterparts, graven in shining silver.

Fulgrim was well-liked by his brothers, and felt a keen kinship with many of his fellow Primarchs Often inspired by his brothers, the Dragonslayer would forge them great and powerful weapons or decorated yet durable armour. It is known that Fulgrim was close to Perturabo, linked by their love of grand architecture, and Ferrus Manus, who despite all their differences Fulgrim regarded as a kindred spirit. The Dragonslayer was amongst the few to reach out to Dorn, the Haunted, forging him a unique set of black gauntlets bearing the sign of the Emperor's Aquila.

Fulgrim was, tragically, the first Primarch killed during the Great Atrocity, slain by one of his brother Primarchs at the Massacre of [iNSERT ISTVAAN V EQUIVALENT HERE]. Imperial records are confused on the exact manner of Fulgrim's death, but the effect on his Legion was massively unforeseen. The III Legion shattered in the aftermath, rallying behind several different leaders and going their separate ways. Many of these splinters were easily destroyed by the massed forces of the traitors, but one survived. Led by the grieving Captain Lucius, the damaged Legion made for Terra in the hopes of protecting the Emperor. They arrived too late to take part in the final conflict, and Lucius determined the remnants of the Legion would shed their name until they once more became worthy of Fulgrim and the Emperor. They became the Scions of Medusa, painting their shoulder armour black and forsaking the use of the Aquila. The use of ornate cybernetics became the only link between the Scions and their past existence, a trait continued for ten thousand years hence.

Any better?

EDIT:

Regardless of if my Fulgrim qualifies as cool or not, I approve the motion that we jump on the Alternate Heresy Bandwagon once more. It's fun, and all the stories before mine are pretty darned awesome.

[Wade Garrett]

Glad you liked it, Heathens.

 

I tried to keep that "the one soul in twenty that never wanted to be a warrior" vibe, plus I think a lot of the problems he has would go away without Kor Phaeron pouring poison in his ears for a century or two (something that whichever Primarch ends up on Colchis will have to deal with) and I thought it would be interesting to give him a mother as his single parent instead of a father like most of the Primarchs had, because that also ties into the "Lorgar wasn't a real warrior like me nyah nyah nyah." He gets from his brothers in canon.

 

As far as having the Imperial Hounds when we already have the War Hounds...we've got Imperial Fists & Iron Hands, Blood Angels and Dark Angels, Iron Warriors & Iron Hands...I don't think ensuring every Legion had its own unique heraldry completely different from the others was very high on the Emperor's list of priorities.

[Conn Eremon]

I'mma take another crack at this. I rolled a couple d20's to randomize who I am talking about and where they will land, just for the heck of it.

 

The world Angron looked down upon was something he hadn't expected to find outside of his Companion worlds, a shining jewel as beautiful as his own Macragge. Here the Emperor had decreed that one of their illustrious brothers would be found once more and he ached to see with his own eyes who this fledgling equal would be. The lord and master of the Angels of Death was down on the world already, which the Imperial cartogrophers had labeled 'Mundus Planus.'

 

Stories among isolated, fleeing tribes spoke of a traitorous beast found in the ocean of grass. They had raised this animal as one of their own, for it looked like them and spoke like them. When the Empire came, the creature was taken from them as tribute. This they knew as when their end began. Instead of refusing to bend knee to the Palatine and eventually returning to their tribes with newfound hatred for the imperial, the beast of the plains who walked like a man embraced their ways. When he returned to the steppes of his former home, it was as its conqueror. The peoples of the steppes, what few survivors were left free, refused to give name to their waking nightmare, the death of their people.

 

Little of the tribal ways of life remained on Mundus Planus, known to them as Chogoris, a name swiftly dying as the tongues that uttered them are silenced. Much of the great continent, so like the pangaian landmass of Terra's prehistory, had been utterly swallowed by the industry of what was simply known as the Empire. Under its dictator like ruler, hundreds of isolated city-states were conquered, rebuilt and interconnected. Though barely into the gunpowder age, the Empire had little of the problems typically suffered by nations of such grandiose sizes in those times. Intricate pathways lay like a spider's web across the globe, insuring swift, safe travel and communication. Marble walls enclosed every city, manned by disciplined warriors who understood first and foremost that their worth lay in their teamwork and obedience. The highly mobile but lightly armored horse archers of the western quarter proved to be no match to the Empire's armies under its new management. Heavy armor and interlocking shields protected the men, while the inexorable push onwards drove the enemy into tighter and tighter packs where their mobility was useless and the imperial shortswords king. What had once been known as the Empty Quarter was fast becoming a new colony of the Empire, a conquest on the verge of completion when the true Imperium arrived.

 

From afar, as Angron climbed the long steps of the Palatine's great palace, a primitive imitation of the Imperial Palace on Terra, the Angel Sanguinius' armor appeared a dark red. As the Champion of Macragge drew nearer, however, his posthuman eyes could spot out that his armor was of the deepest black, every centimeter covered in small cuneiform script in the color of blood. He could also see the bright gleam of hunger in his eyes, that forever plagued his brother. His winged form stood behind the shoulder of a man equally impressive, seated upon a great throne as the Primarch of the Hounds of War approached. Though reclining in luxury, he wore an ornate armor in the same colors of his armies. Blackened leather connecting plates of the deepest green, inlaid with the red gold of the frozen northern mountains, the colours of the royal patriarch.

 

"So, you are the new addition to the family. I have heard the people of the steppes refer to you as the Jackal."

 

"A name I have discarded, along with the rest of their influence. Here I am Jonson, the Palatine."

 

"Well, Jonson. Jackal. It is time we took you to meet our father."

[Hyaenidae]

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[Ace Debonair]

@Ace: Yes sir, much cooler, and more defined. When I originally read your first story, it almost seemed as if you had simply put Ferrus back on Medusa, only changing how he had killed the wyrm. This, though, is far more badass.

I swear there were more differences when I weighed the idea in my head, even if I sucked at getting them written down.

That said, I personally see a lot of similarities between Fulgrim and Ferrus, even if Ferrus is a lot more straightforward in nature.

This Fulgrim is a Primarch who loves technology and art in equal measure, although I should actually play up his ingrained narcissism some more if I ever go into detail. Actually, I could see him boasting that he transformed his homeworld into a stable paradise in front of Perturabo and Angron, who could politely yet firmly put him straight about how they've each done that a dozen times over.

Also, Magnus could be called The Red Lion, perhaps?

It's kind of like how Sanguinius was The Angel and Angron was the Red Angel in canon-40k.

EDIT:

Fulgrim just made the 'cool Primarchs' list. My sleep-deprived brain demands I pull the happy face, thus:

EDIT EDIT:

Errant capital letters. Cut them down to size.

[Wade Garrett]

I have an idea for Ferrous MORDAX (the Iron Devourer) on Nuceria, who attacked by aliens right out of his incubation pod and tainted with necrodermis and thinks only the Butcher's Nails in his head are stopping the creepy alien metal skin he cut off from taking over his mind, but I'm not sure what to do with it besides

"Ferrous =  even angrier General Grievous who REALLY hates xenos"

[Brother Heinrich]

Some good stuff here, if no one has done it yet, I was thinking about writing some background for Curze on Baal. Sort of a dark mirror trading places with Sanguinius. I'll get cracking after work. I like the whole 'Alternate Dornian Heresy' idea Heathens.

[Conn Eremon]

Well, I had written it as a stand-alone

Using Macraggian Angron and Colchisian Sanguinius just because. Considering that we might consider collating it all, perhaps I can remove the Lion bit altogether.

[Ace Debonair]

I have an idea for Ferrous MORDAX (the Iron Devourer) on Nuceria, who attacked by aliens right out of his incubation pod and tainted with necrodermis and thinks only the Butcher's Nails in his head are stopping the creepy alien metal skin he cut off from taking over his mind, but I'm not sure what to do with it besides

"Ferrous =  even angrier General Grievous who REALLY hates xenos"

 

WAAAAANT

 

Er, I mean, that sounds cool.

 

He could still be a craftsman at heart but think it's all the influence of the creepy metal skin because all he truly knows is pain, paranoia and anger. ("These hands have created many marvels, but they are not truly mine")

 

 

 

EDIT: After I've had some sleep, would everyone be OK with me trying out Horus on Deliverance?

[Conn Eremon]

If nobody has done it yet, go for it. If somebody has done it already, go for it.

 

If you want to be part of a collected end product, stick to the former.

 

Edit:And I changed the Lion thing.

[Ace Debonair]

If nobody has done it yet, go for it. If somebody has done it already, go for it.

If you want to be part of a collected end product, stick to the former.

Edit:And I changed the Lion thing.

This isn't going to be the Horus we all know and love, though.

You have been warned.

Now to get some sleep.

EDIT:

Also, Jonson could always steal the nickname 'Warhawk' from The Khan, or something derived from it. Bloodhawk, maybe?

[Hyaenidae]

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[Conn Eremon]

Bloodhawk sounds nice, but I'm starting to like the sound of a traitor dubbed the Jackal.

 

I'm curious who the Warmaster would be. All the obvious canon ones have been taken, I think, so whoever it ends up being will be a unique choice. I still think that what makes the Warmaster most is Cthonia, for no reason other than it makes the Primarch the first found.

[Wade Garrett]

Cormac:

 

You should probably cut that bit where Angron calls him "The Jackal" then. Unless Maccragian Angron has retained his canon counterpart's sense of diplomacy.

 

And now I'm imagining Cthonian Curze as Warmaster. There goes the Crusade....

[Conn Eremon]

Macraggian Angron is all about accepting other peoples. Assimilation rather than eradication. The Palatine is doing the opposite on his own home world of Mundus Planus. It was deliberately not diplomatic.

 

Edit: If everyone thinks it's out of character, I can modify it.

[Ace Debonair]

WAAAAANT

Er, I mean, that sounds cool.

He could still be a craftsman at heart but think it's all the influence of the creepy metal skin because all he truly knows is pain, paranoia and anger. ("These hands have created many marvels, but they are not truly mine")

EDIT: After I've had some sleep, would everyone be OK with me trying out Horus on Deliverance?

Hell yes, Horus on a tyrannical slave world would be gnarly. Oh, and please don't think I didn't care for your first story, I just didn't totally understand it. The first was cool already, you just made it awesome. Also, my pharmacy drug-addled mind may have easily missed something too.

Nah, my first story was OK at best. Nowhere near the standards set by earlier tales.

This is the difference between taking twenty minutes to think about something and about six hours.

...Maybe Mortarion could be the Warmaster?

Or Alpharius?

EDIT:

Perhaps the most obvious one from our remaining choices - Warmaster Leman Russ!

The Horus I've got planned won't even be in the running for the Warmaster-ship, although I'm gonna have to think more about it before I post up my idea. Lesson learned!

...Also I might have to change his name somewhat and think up something awesome and snazzy to give his Legion more of their own identity.

Right, now to actually go and sleep this time.