What does the Lion look like?

[Faithwing]

Hey, guys.

 

Was just curious what the man looks like. I'm pretty sure all the art I've seen is unofficial.

 

Is there a descriptive passage in a book that can be quoted, or have I missed an official piece of artwork?

 

Sorry if this is an overdone topic.

 

Thanks!

[DiscipleOfCaliban]

I believe this image is from Visions of Heresy so is therefore GW sanctioned. Just shows an older set of his armour though, not the best view of the man himself.

 

http://img2.wikia.nocookie.net/__cb20120214061326/warhammer40k/images/7/76/Pre_heresy_lion_el_johnson.jpg

[MadDoc]

That is not from any of the Visions books, not any of the four individual releases nor Collected Visions.

 

In fact, I believe it's fan art.

[Gillyfish]

Can't say I know that image either. I think I might have seen an image somewhere in a GW/FFG publication, but I may well be wrong.

[ZONKEY]

As far as I am aware the lion has very long blonde hair with very angular features... Though I have seen good artwork where he has long curly black hair that's greeting at the temples with a long face with various scares around his face

[d@n]

What does the lion look like? A traitor thats what ;)

[Chaplain Lucifer]

This is a rendition, made by a B&C resident, based on the known features of him:

http://mahalokapoeapau.files.wordpress.com/2011/09/lion-el-johnson.jpg?w=497

[ZONKEY]

I don't imagine the lion looking like a sanguinius esque person

 

I never see the lion modelled with a pistol

[DiscipleOfCaliban]

That is not from any of the Visions books, not any of the four individual releases nor Collected Visions.

 

In fact, I believe it's fan art.

 

Thanks for the correction, not sure why I thought it was. I'm quite glad as this is not really how I would want him to look.

[Azoriel]

There's several descriptions of the Lion:

 

from Descent of Angels

The Lion was a truly imposing physical specimen. A giant, standing at a little under three metres tall, it was impossible to escape the suspicion that he had been cut from a broader canvas than the majority of men. His body was perfectly proportioned and entirely in scale with his height. He was powerfully built, lithe yet muscular.

 

Given that the people of Caliban had black hair for the most part, the Lion’s most arresting feature at first sight was the russet golden shade of his hair. The combined effect of his physical characteristics paled into inconsequence, however, in comparison with his more intangible qualities. Jonson exuded a raw majesty, an unspoken aura of such magnetic authority that it was clear from the very first instance why Sar Luther had chosen to give him the name ‘Lion’. There was no other name that could ever have possibly fitted him.

 

from Fallen Angels

Like all of the Emperor’s sons, Jonson was the product of the most advanced genetic science known to mankind. He hadn’t been born; he had been sculpted, at the cellular level, by the hands of a genius. His hair was shining gold, falling in heavy curls to his broad shoulders, and his skin was pale and smooth as alabaster. Green eyes caught the light and seemed to glow from within, like polished emeralds. His gaze was sharp and penetrating, laser-like in its intensity. Normally, Jonson preferred to wear a simple white surplice bound with a belt of gold chains, which only served to accentuate his towering physical presence and genetically perfect physique.

 

This time, however, he was clad for war, cased in the intricately-crafted power armour that had been gifted to him by the Emperor himself. Ornate gold scrollwork had been worked into the curved, ceramite plates, detailing forest scenes from distant Caliban. Across the breastplate was a vivid depiction of a younger Jonson wrestling with a fearsome Calibanite Lion; the monster’s back was bowed and its paws raked furiously at the sky, its neck strained to breaking point by the primarch’s powerful arms. At his hip, Jonson carried the Lion Sword, a glorious blade forged on Terra by the Emperor’s own master armourers. A heavy cloak of emerald green swirled at the primarch’s back, and he walked with the portentous tread of an avenging angel.

 

from "Savage Weapons"

THE LORD OF the First Legion sat as he so often sat these nights, leaning back in an ornate throne of ivory and obsidian. His elbows rested upon the throne’s sculpted arms, while his fingers were steepled before his face, just barely touching his lips. Unblinking eyes, the brutal green of Caliban’s forests, stared dead ahead, watching the winking dance of distant stars. Every so often there’d be the slightest betrayal of movement: the rise and fall of his armoured shoulders, or a moment taken to blink and shake his crowned head in silent dismissal.

The warlord’s armour was the same rich, unspoiled black as the void into which he stared. Sculpted across his breastplate and greaves, rearing lions formed from red gold – that rarest of metals dredged from the dusty crust of Mars – bared their teeth at a diligent and devoted bridge crew. He wore no helm while he sat in repose, yet the mane of ashen blond locks was bound back in a tight horsetail to keep his face free of distraction, and a simple silver circlet adorned his tanned brow. This last trinket sported no ostentation, being nothing more than an echo of tradition from the disbanded knightly orders of the Lion’s adopted home world. By such simple crowns were the knight-lords of Caliban once known.

 

from "The Lion"

            The Lion stepped out on the descending ramp of the Stormbird with Corswain to his right and the recently-arrived Captain Tragan to his left. Behind came a number of banner bearers and other attendants carrying such articles of Caliban as usually accompanied the primarch; plaques, goblets, crowns, shields and other items associated with the Lion’s multitude of ranks and duties. Behind them came the cabal of Librarians, now numbering six from the fleet mustering in orbit, their blue robes flapping in the slow but strong breeze – the higher-pressure air of Perditus turned even a sluggish gust into a wind that could bowl over a normal man. As one the Dark Angels silently lifted bolters, heavy weapons or swords in salute to their commander-in-chief.

            The Lion needed no helm, though the air was acrid in his throat and made his lungs feel stretched by its weight. He wanted to impress upon all present that he was a primarch, with the force of an entire Legion to command, and not just any Legion; the Dark Angels, the First Legion. His standard bearers took up station on either side of the route to the main gate, the Lion’s many titles shouted through their external address systems.

            The Lion’s armour had been polished to a gleam, the black enamel as glossy as midnight oil alloyed with diamond, the gold shining like the heart of a star. A scarlet cloak draped from his shoulders, its train five metres long, kept aloft by the artifices of Caliban; ten suspensor-floating devices wrought in the shape of short blades etched with the names of the Knightly Orders of his homeworld. On his left hip the Lion wore his greatsword, Adamant, its ruby-encrusted pommels and gold-chased hilt and crosspiece glittering as brightly as his armour. Below the right side of his breastplate the Lion’s belt was hung with six cylinders each the size of a man’s forearm, bound with platinum, the dull red leather cases containing the Proclamations of Caliban; the first laws decreed by the Lion after his ascendancy to command of the Dark Angels, swearing Caliban to the service of the Emperor for eternity.

 

from Unremembered Empire

The Lion emerged from his lander stony-faced, bareheaded, his long golden hair trailing in the wind. So beautiful, so deadly, so empty, so unreadable. He carried his war-helm under his left arm, and marched with the same perfect discipline that his men displayed. To each side of him came his voted lieutenants, in identical step. Beloved Corswain was commanding the First Legion elements on the other side of the Ruinstorm, so the Lion was braced by Holguin and Farith Redloss. Holguin carried an executioner’s long sword upright before him in his two hands, the tip of the six-foot blade rounded over like a butter knife. His pauldron was marked with the crossed swords of the Deathwing. Redloss carried a massive war-axe, haftwise across his chest. His pauldron bore the skull-in-hourglass of the Dreadwing. All three wore black artificer armour worked with red Martian gold.

 

from Unremembered Empire (a few pages later)

The Lion looked at Guilliman. The Avenging Son looked at the Lion. The Lion’s black armour was richly engraved and inlaid with red gold. The chestplate and pauldrons displayed all the interconnected icons and symbols of his Legion, the complex heraldry of the Dark Angels hierarchies, visible and invisible. All the secret hosts, thrones and powers of the First Legion’s secret structure were represented there, united by the central insignia, the six-pointed hexagrammaton. He wore the pelt of a forest beast across his right shoulder, and the golden badge of a shrouded urn at his throat.

 

Five different authors, five different descriptions.  As such, I'd say you're free to accept any one of them...  Or even come up with your own.

[Syphid]

Here's a picture from the cover of The Primarchs, with the Lion on the far left.

 

Oops, disregard.  That's Sanguinus - just noticed the wings.

[Bryan Blaire]

I know this is slightly off topic, but I think it's an idea to explore somewhere that the "crossed swords of the Deathwing" sounds like the Chapter symbol of the Guardians of the Covenant, and the skull in hourglass sounds somewhat like the symbol of the Star Phantoms.

[Master Sheol]

I still wonder why all people paint Jonson blond when he has reddish hair... He is a Lion and lions has a reddish mane...

He is one of the tallest primarchs too...

Thanks to Azoriel for posting real descriptions of the lion from real fluff by BL/GW...

[Plague Angel]

I still wonder why all people paint Jonson blond when he has reddish hair...

 

He certainly did.

 

I couldn't resist I'm sorry

[Isiah]

For those who don't know who that pic is, it's the poet Lionel Johnson, who wrote The Dark Angel.

 

A bit of a literary joke there from Plague Angel ^_^.

 

Cheers

I

[Plague Angel]

In all seriousness, though, I know I personally imagine the Lion's face looking like Lionel Johnson. Just, you know. Space Marineified. All bulked up.

 

Probably a lot. He was a skinny dude.