Legion Smack Talk Thread

[Slips]

(I'm quickly running out of likes for this thread...awesome levels are too damn high!)

 

(Also, Heathens, Write a book! You too Wade, hell collaborate and make a dual perspective Word Bearers book, DO SOMETHING, TAKE MY MONEY!)

 

Another Astartes present at the table, bedecked in Golden Yellow and bearing the Maltese Cross of Old Earth on one Pauldron, his MK III helm mag-clamped to his waist, lay his his ornate and black-bladed Power Sword on the Table, a Sign that He wished to speak peacefully to those present.

 

He turned first to the Chaplain :

 

"You, traitorous son of the XVII legion, dare call one who did nothing more than his duty a Liar? You, who unlike any of the pagan beliefs of any other legion, sought to Deify a Man who demanded nothing of the sort and went against his will anyways think yourself as Righteous and Justified? The hypocrisy in your words is clear for all to see.

 

While I will not seek to defend any of our brothers divergent beliefs they, at least, did not use their "religion" as a means of controlling and converting populace; the very thing the Emperor sought to bring down when he created your very Legion!

 

The Wolves, The Salamanders and The Scars do not venerate the Emperor as Deity nor does any of their beliefs incorporate such ideology. What they do is to seek harmony with the world they inhabit!

 

The Salamanders Respect their namesake of Nocturne for it is the Apex Predator of their World, a Challenge all of their number must overcome to prove that they are superior. What "religion" would willingly promote the hunting for naught but challenge their patron Deity? None! Instead they would worship and Sacrifice to them, to better appease their humors instead of striking them down and forging their own Path!

 

The same can be said of the Wolves and the Scars. Yours, on the other hand, goes counter to everything the Imperial Truth Stands for : Science and Reason over Superstition and Ignorance! Something that none of the Promethean Cult, the Wyrd or the Path of Heaven do.

 

As for one such as I, I need no rituals or blind faith in the immaterial to give me succor in my times of darkness for I trust in my Primarch and the Emperor to bring us into a new Era."

 

The Templar then turned to his Grey-Clad Brother of the Fang, crossing his arms before him.

 

"Son of Russ, as distasteful as it is to me to say, the Chaplain is right. There is no honor in what you did. You struck at an "Enemy" who was willing to bow down and submit to its punishment peacefully. To be brought before the Emperor for final Judgement. Instead, you razed a world."

 

The Templar then took his sword from the table and clamped it back into position on his waist. His contribution to the discussion over.

[Daemon2027]

The Chieften smiled, for a second his features made him look like a true Son, but this passed as the warmth left his face, and he gestured to the Word Bearer

 

It is not often that I agree with the fanatics, but he has the right of it. The imperial truth was our casus belli. Our reason to kill, those of our own. And for what reason. To bring enlightenment. But why? For humanity's good, or the twisted ambitions of a man wanting it all. And we gave it to him. The whole universe, but was that enough? He left us, in the moment of triumph, he handed his empire over to a council, the very corrupt system we had been told to tear down on a million worlds. Have you asked yourself why? What was he doing? He had the u inverse but I was not enough. He found away, a Xenos way, the very stuff we were told to destroy, to make himself I to a God, so that his tyranny would last forever. He wanted to be a god, the god, the only god. I don't care for the daemons and spirits the XVIIth treat with, what they are is all that matters.

 

The warrior of Sea Green took a step towards the ash grey Iconclast

The Emperor made war. He wanted us to make war. The Warmaster always, always sought to make peace. When we stumbled upon a kingdom, so delusional they thought themselves to be the true Imperium, he 3 times sent embassy. The first saw the greatest of all, bar the Primarchs die, and Sejanus was the greatest Astartes that ever was, and the Warmasters favourite, but still the Warmaster tried for peace. When his Equarry was shot down, we moved for war, but still we tried. Only once the fleet of Abaddon was fired upon did we commit, and we never celebrated. You see we made war not for power, or honour, we made war when peace failed. The Warmaster was always better then the Emperor. He did not make war for war sake, that is solely the deamon of the Emperor.

 

Turning to the grey dog

Wolf, shhh, you played your part well in this war. Chase us, it will be interesting to see what happens when the tame Dogs of the Emperor meets the Wolves of the Warmaster.

[MasterofMankind]

"Twisted ambitions of a man wanting it all" says the man who killed his own brothers simply because they were loyal, just to sate his primarch's greed.

[Leif Bearclaw]

Another guttural chuckle emerges from the grey armoured warrior as he turned to address the Chaplain.

 

I do not condemn the XV for resisting, Word Bearer for that was their choice and wyrd. I merely state that the mutation and perversions that manifested among the Sons served to demonstrate that the Legion was damned long before our assault. We merely exposed their inner rot to the galaxy, and dealt with them appropriately.

 

On the other hand, at least we left Prospero barren and the XV shattered. Perhaps your vaunted Erebus should have spent more time on his battle plans and less on his sermons, because last time I checked, Calth still stands. Prospero doesn't.

 

Turning to face the taciturn Templar.

 

I'm surprised to hear a Son of Dorn dismiss orders so lightly. We did not raze Prospero on some whim of the Wolf King. We struck with the approval of senior Crusade command, as well as the commander of the Custodes, acting in the Emperor's name. True, we did not foresee the perfidy of the Warmaster, but that is a sin shared by all who count themselves loyal, not only the VI.

 

Lastly, his lips pulled back in a grin, yellow eyes glinting with grim humour as he address the warrior wearing the Eye.

 

You will indeed see Traitor, and you'll regret leaving your true Wolves dead in the dust of Istvaan. The Vlka Fenryka will endure to see your vaunted Legion broken and blackened, your precious Warmaster naught but a memory. And while even one your craven host still draws breath, sleep lightly, for the Wulfen hunt you still.

[Daemon2027]

Is that the voice of the emperor I hear?

 

The Sea Green warrior pulls his sword free

 

Greed, our farther is not acting out of greed, he is acting out necessity.

Both the philosophers and theologians agree, that the prince who seizes the state with force and arms, and with no legal right, no public, civic approval, may be killed by anyone and deprived of his life...

Hint, you are the Prince.

 

Cassually pointing the blade at Wolf

When do you dogs stopping yapping. Did you bore the Thousand Sons to death?

[Phalanx Warder]

But that is the lie you live on, "loyalist". You were not made to protect mankind, you were made to advance The Emperor's plans of godhood. You are but pawns in His great schemes, and if mankind is getting protected, that's just a byproduct. If you truly wanted to protect mankind, you would seek to evolve them, not to hold them back like an over-protective parent.

 

Strife is what drives humanity forward, it's what births innovation and inspires artists! Put humanity in the great cauldron of strife and conflict and you would perhaps see the powerless and weak emerge as strong and powerful. War is the means to an end, and through that, humanity will evolve or die out, that is the stakes we play, that is the game.

Fine words coming from one as yourself, the brothers of the VII see through you thin vailed lies. Let us not forget your so called evolution is nothing more than a sick parody of humanity gone wrong. I feel no pitty as I gaze upon your twisted forms, the die is cast. We rely not on cheep gimmicks like your so called butchers nails, the foul miniseries of twisted Apothecarys nor the cowardice of "terror" tactics or any of the other curses you claim as some twisted boon.

 

My brothers and I stand tall in golden yellow plate, it catches the eye and draws attention for we Fists are jealous and would spill your tainted blood all by ourselves. When your glorious charge is halted and the spear tip is dull you will find us up close and in your face were the real killing takes place. This is were any son of Dorn feels at home.

[Leif Bearclaw]

The grey clad Astartes raises an eyebrow at the sword brandished by the XVI Legionnaire, casually adjusting the pelt hung over his shoulder.

 

There's a time for talk and a time for action "brother". It is decreed today is a time for talk, hence we talk. Make the most of it while you can, for the dead enjoy no such luxuries.

[Iron Father Ferrum]

The Iron Hand, his Cataphractii plate black as night, leaned heavily on the table.  His power fist could never be detached, so this gesture was as close as he could come to symbolically disarming himself as the others had done.  His still-helmeted head swiveled from side to side, taking in his brothers -- loyal or otherwise -- around the giant stone table for a moment before he spoke again.  Eventually, the gaze of his bright red augmetic lenses settled on the Son of Horus.  The voice that emerged from his helmet's external vox-mitters was cold and mechanical, utterly without emotion.

 

"The Warmaster sought to make peace?  What folly spills from your lips now, traitor?  Look at the title he willingly bears: warmaster.  Perhaps he should have been called the Peacemaster instead?"

 

He pauses, waiting for the unanticipated laughter to die down before continuing.

 

"The Arch-Traitor is not a being of peace.  He is a Primarch first and foremost, constructing gene by gene by the true Master of Mankind for one purpose and one purpose only: to conquer the galaxy in the name of humanity.  With the goal in sight, he turned from this path and made more war, made it upon the very thing he swore to fight for!  The Emperor is the Imperium and the Imperium is humanity; by making war against one, he makes war against all, and that is why his name shall forever spit upon by those who serve mankind.  That he died with triumph so near is almost laughable.

 

"That is a situation we of the Iron Tenth are familiar with.  Our own father died with his hands all but wrapped around his nemesis' throat.  We collected ourselves, then fought back, striking when and where we wished.  We did not shatter, we divided; one Legion can be found, trapped, annihilated.  A hundred strike forces can move more freely, faster, and eliminating one does nothing to diminish the others.  Yet when Horus fell, your Legion turned tail and ran as if it felt fear.  You did not turn about and fight as we did, you just fled to the deepest, darkest hole you could find in this galaxy.  And you stayed there until your First Captain dragged you kicking and screaming back into the real world.

 

"I long for the days when the Luna Wolves were allies worth having at our side.  You are not worthy of their legacy."

[Castiel]

*A Mk III helmet of shining emerald green was laid to rest upon the dias. The Salamander supressed a smile at the discomfort his appearance caused to some of those present, his onyx skin and red eyes marking him out amongst those assembled. His armour was of the same green as his helmet, decorated with inlaid teeth and fire motifs and a drake-skin cloak hung from his shoulder. A mighty thunder hammer was strapped across his back, the master-crafted weapon created by the warrior who held it, as was the exquisitely detailed inferno pistol holstered at his waist*

 

"Son of the Arch-traitor" his calm voice carried easily in the stillness of the chamber "You proclaim that the Emperor returned to the Homeworld to make himself a God, but I ask you this: What evidence do you have for this? The Emperor was seeking a way to make travel across the stars safe for his people so that no more need be lost to the perfidy of the warp. Sadly he did not foresee that his best and brightest would fall to it, acting like an attention-seeking child who has had his demands for attention ignored and so seeks another's favour to spite their parent."

 

"And you, Lorgar's whelp. Do not seek to compare the honourable Promethean Cult to the twisted warp-beings you have run to. The Promethean Cult is a set of ideals set out to guide our warrior spirits, taking inspiration from the world we were born to and the beings that dwell upon it. There is no worship of the great Drakes or the volcanoes. Our brands are our way of signifying the oath of moment, except rather than affixing in to our armour we brand it to ourselves. Unlike the twisted excuses for gods that you worship, which seek only to warp and and cause pain and torment. I will not even call you my cousins, for you long ago gave up the right to name yourselves Astartes."

[Slips]

(thumbs up all around, the fluff river lake sea Ocean runes deep here! *sniffs the air for phospex by reflex* :P )

[Daemon2027]

The Chieften replaces his sword

 

Shame. Although you never know when you need fools to manipulate so maybe you have use pup.

 

Iron man, a true master of war knows when peace is necessary, when action is needed, and when it's time to contemplate. It's a shame your farther did not know this last point.

[Iron Father Ferrum]

A strange coughing, buzzing sound emerges from his vox-mitters, and it takes the assemblage a moment to recognize it as laughter.

 

"Peace?  We are weapons.  To kill is our purpose.  Take away our purpose, and what use is there for us?  What use is a chair if no one ever sits upon it?  What use is a vox if no one ever communicates through it?  It is purpose that created us, purpose that connects us, purpose that pulls us, that guides us, that drives us, it is purpose that defines us, purpose that binds us.*  We are all of us the Imperium's machine of war, and peace deprives us purpose.  Ferrus Manus fulfilled his purpose by making war upon traitors.  That is all the aspiration any of us should need."

 

 

(*Copyright someone else, used without permission.  Given my subject matter, simply too awesome to pass up including.)

[Slips]

Upon seeing the Sea-Green clad marine replace his sword, the Templar reholsters his Volkite Serpenta, aimed at the Legionnaires Head,  upon his hip and lets go of the Hilt of his Black Blade, still affixed to his waist and addresses both the Son of Horus and the Iron Hand simultaneously.

 

Turning First to the Iron Hand :

 

"As Warmaster and Replacement for the Emperor in our Crusade to reunite the scattered fragments of Humanity, peaceful negotiations would have been Necessary to reclaim some of the lost technologies of Man and avoid the loss of Astartes and Human Lives alike in a Combat that Would have proven unneeded given discourse."

 

"You, of all Astartes Present, should realize the importance of reclaiming lost technology whole and undamaged instead of...betting...on them surviving fullscale Astartes Warfare."

 

Turning to the Son of Horus :

 

"You are one to talk, puppet of the Dark Gods. The moment they no longer need you, you will be discarded as easily and readily as any Bolter Mag."

 

Finally, addressing the Space Wolf :

 

"Would the Orders have come from my First Captain Sigismund, A Senechal, Castellan and above all those my Primarch Dorn, I would not have Questioned them. However, would I have been ordered by my Gene-Father to go burn a world after being told to do so by the Emperor by Proxy of the Warmaster, I would have raised any concerns with Him for He is of Open Mind and of more Clout than your Liege-Lord, it seems. It is no wonder mine was highly considered for the Position of Warmaster where yours was not."

 

"And do not question us of the VIIth on following orders. We, unlike yours, are much more disciplined and organised and while we would follow them to the letter, we would not let a lust for battle override reason in the manner of a beast!"

 

 

(Edit: P.S I need more likes...)

[Daemon2027]

The Chieften faces the Iron Hand

 

You still don't see. The Warmaster was the best because he could see the difference between weapons and rhetoric. You are a weapon. A blunt instrument. He used you as such, and when you came at us, it's all you could be. That's why your farther lays dead, and your elite with him. Because the Warmaster saw another way. He made a plan, and that plan slaughtered you. Its a shame you can not see that stringent up fighting is not the only option, as you are fine warriors. Just as dull as the Iron you love.

 

Turning to the Templar

 

We are no puppets, we know the nature of the gods and trust me, they do not use us. We use them. The XVIth leads for a reason.

[Castiel]

The Salamander snorts with derision "You have made your pact with beings more treacherous than even your gene-father and his ilk in the traitor Legions, and when it amuses them most they will drop you and leave you hanging out to dry. I have no pity for you, for you have walked wilfully into your fate and the anguish you shall know will be well deserved.

[Iron Father Ferrum]

"Oh, so Horus was at his best when acting as a weapon?  You have made my point quite succinctly.  Thank you for your cooperation."

[Leif Bearclaw]

The amused demeanour of the Wolf fades, replaced by pervasive melancholy and regret as he responds to the Templar.

 

Don't seek to judge us with hindsight Templar. Why would Russ question his brother's instructions? Especially as they were not countered by Valdor. Don't forget, as alien as it feel now, Horus was the Emperor's chosen, beloved by many, respected by all. I doubt your father would have been any more more sceptical than mine. We here know the account of Captain Garro, how Dorn reacted to the revelation of his brother's treachery with violence towards the messenger. I do not say this to judge or shame your Legion, merely to observe you were not so different from us. As I have said before, we were all blind to the treachery until it was far too late.

 

But do not mistake us for Angron's butchers, we are not, and have never been, mindless beasts. We had no great desire to tear down the XV, and took no joy in the duty we discharged. But we did discharge it to the letter, just as you would have had our places been reversed.

[Jarl Kjaran Coldheart]

*setting a well notched axe on the table, a grey armored fur clad giant points at the Templar*

 

"Speak not of the honor of the First Knight, for he defied his own gene-sire on the words of a imprisoned wytch. He refused the mission that needed doing for his own personal saga on the fields of Terra. Of his much vaunted honor, I now cast doubt.

 

The open mind of your Primarch? Few walls are as dense as his skull. The fabled stoicism of the FIst is little more than the lack of will, of the belief in his rightness to strike. He was brought to Terra to leave war to the warriors, to build a fortress that failed it role. 

Of open mind you said? What was his reply to Lord Corax's demands to return to the War? Was there consideration of his plight, or merely the thought of bolstering his failed fortress? 

Of the wyrd-touched brothers in yellow, has the supposed open mind of the Lord of Fists placed them in battle companies as his brothers did, where they can continue to serve? Has he treated his offspring with the rights of a warrior? Or has he instead locked them away in his floating fortress, to serve neither humanity or the Emperor? 

 

Speak to me not of the open mind and honor of the Fists. As their actions have proven, both of these supposed qualities are in short supply."

 

*turning to the spawn of the Warmaster*
 

"First you claim to be Wolves of Luna, then Sons of the Warmaster. What is next, a Legion of sable? You shed armor and honor as a snake sheds it's skin, and the last sight you see before your life's breath leaves you is my axe."

 

*finally, the Word Bearers*

 

"You are so misguided you quarrel among yourself, each preaching different tales and declaring the rest of us fools. As your whelp of a sire has shown, your pretend faith is little more than cowering before powers that should be defied. You promise yourself to the tides of the maleficarum as you lack the purity of a true warrior. You are beneath even my contempt, as you were kneeling in your own shame on Moncharia."

 

WLK

[Slips]

The Templar Sighs deeply and rubs his brow between two fingers.

 

"You will excuse me brother, these have been...trying times. I find myself more wrathful than I would normally be. Especially in forums such as this where we discuss with those of...dubious... intentions."

 

He says, looking at the assembled representatives of the Traitor Legions.

 

(Edit: Damnit two Space Wolves post one beneath the other :x Mine is a reply to Leif, for continuities sake :P)

[Wade Garrett]

The Apostle's eyes narrowed as he gazed at the warriors of the Vlyka Fenryka...and then he laughed.

 

"It seems that the Emperor didn't cut every drop of humanity from his slave soldiers after all. We are all as quick to cry 'But it's different when l do it" as any mortal.

 

You Wolves...you speak of the corruption and mutation of the Fifteenth, even as you herd beasts spawned from own kin into battle and your grothi piss on the Emperor's decrees with every incantation they mutter.

 

You mock my Legion's efforts at Calth while beating your chests about your razing of Prospero...answer me this, savage. Where is the corpse of Lord Magnus? Where are the pyres of his sons? If you truly imagine you are done with the red warlocks...well."

 

He inclined his head to the warrior in the armor of the Xlll.

 

"There is a vast gulf between an enemy wounded and an enemy defeated. The Master of the Faith and the Hand of Destiny learned that beneath the stars of Ultramar. And for you to mock Dorn and his Legion..."

 

The laughter still lingered in his voice as he gestured to the Astartes whose shoulder pieces bore the clenched fist of the Sixth.

 

"Stuborn as the stone they raise their fortresses from they may be, but each of these can truly say they know their father's fate. Dorn died hard, and he died fighting, barring the threshold to his lord's realm. Tell me, son of Fenris...what of the death-lay of Leman Russ? It must be a mighty tale, full of blood and thunder, of great deeds done and fell enemies confronted. For surely, one of whom it was said 'He is loyal in ways that shame us all"...surely such a one would allow nothing save the grave to prevent him from warding his jarl's borders. Surely, such a one would not slink away into the night like a whipped cur, leaving not a trace of his passing?"

[Soldier of Dorn]

Lightning crackles across the Tartaros-pattern armour of the midnight-clad Astartes as he speaks to the Templar.

 

"And why should our intent not be of dubious origin? Your Emperor gave us a broken father, condemned to see the strands of fate! Is such a man even worthy of respect, let alone leadership? This is where you and your kin and your primarch are mistaken. We did not betray the Emperor, the Emperor betrayed us!"

 

He slams a red-coloured fist upon the table, cracking it, and sighs.

 

"I admit, we are broken. our home destroyed. But we did not side with the Warmaster rashly. Our lord primarch contemplated long on this matter, for it was grave. But we did not act rashly."

 

Turning toward his fellow traitors, he addresses them.

 

"And what of you? I know the children of Angron could say the same, but what of the rest of you? Why did we do what we did?"

 

 

 

Dang. Just to be clear, this is addressed to Slipstreams.

[Daemon2027]

(Bugger I forgot the point I was trying to make, lol, to much Horus Rising, silly Loken clouding my traitorous heart. Sleep is required)

[Slips]

(...kinda want to make a Diorama of this latest discussion...Hopefully someone with more skill than I gets to it before I do :P)

[Jarl Kjaran Coldheart]

The Apostle's eyes narrowed as he gazed at the warriors of the Vlyka Fenryka...and then he laughed.

 

"It seems that the Emperor didn't cut every drop of humanity from his slave soldiers after all. We are all as quick to cry 'But it's different when l do it" as any mortal.

 

You Wolves...you speak of the corruption and mutation of the Fifteenth, even as you herd beasts spawned from own kin into battle and your grothi piss on the Emperor's decrees with every incantation they mutter.

 

You mock my Legion's efforts at Calth while beating your chests about your razing of Prospero...answer me this, savage. Where is the corpse of Lord Magnus? Where are the pyres of his sons? If you truly imagine you are done with the red warlocks...well."

 

He inclined his head to the warrior in the armor of the Xlll.

 

"There is a vast gulf between an enemy wounded and an enemy defeated. The Master of the Faith and the Hand of Destiny learned that beneath the stars of Ultramar. And for you to mock Dorn and his Legion..."

 

*with a sigh heavy with sadness, the axe again rests on the table*

 

"False priest, you are so free with false words and  believe yourself burdened with twisted truths that I begin to doubt you ever knew a straight path. It seems you find comfort in your many failings by trying to discredit those with the will to stand instead of bending knee to every promise of power.

 

The very fact you fail to recognize the discipline of our priests, the control required to walk the wyrd path, is enough proof of your failure. You scorn the so called primitive beliefs that we shield ourselves with, but ignore that iron will that governs our priests. We seek not to explore or harness the gulfs of the warp, but rather funnel and limit it's damage.

 

The Wolf Curse has effected our brethren. There is truth in that and not one we hid in shadows like your cults.  Those that fall beyond control are culled, for no greater sin is there than embracing the dark. Those of our brethren that can control their humors are placed in battle ranks, to serve the All-Father with their every action. It is here again that you show your ignorance, for you see falling as a path to rebirth in service of the Fell Powers. You turned from your oaths and ran to the first welcoming power. You lack the strength of will to rise again. 

 

Your ambush at Calth was an embarrassment to Astartes. Though you struck with great fury, bringing both the beasts of the gulf and the mortals who mirror your lack of will, you failed to accomplish your goal. The blue might of Ultramar lives on in its way, even your own Primarch considered your attack a culling of his ranks. Think of that concubine of the Deep. In a Legion now known as traitors, oath-breakers and scoundrel you were too weak to take part in the true Shadow Crusade. You were flotsam, drift wood, embers from a greater fire. 

 

Magnus the Foul proved his loyalty in the death cry of his world. His legion showed their hideous talents, their ripe corruption. Together the drags of an entire Legion thought the hell worlds of the Eye would provide sanctuary from the Rout, and made their escape through the aether. Aye, their escape is a burden to our honor. Much like the continued existence of your kin, it is a burden we'll be happy to fix shortly."

 

WLK

[Wade Garrett]

The Word Bearer set the palms of his hands on the tabletop as he leaned forward to address the Wolf Lord, all mockery gone from his visage.

 

"My life is not my own, beast-man. I am sworn body and soul to Lord Aurelian. If he commands that I am to die on Calth, or Armatura, or screaming upon the altar of the Pantheon Undivided, that is his right.

 

Your Legion, of all present, should understand that. Or did you curse your throats dry and pluck your beards out in fury when Russ scattered you throughout the stars, tossing your packs into the jaws of death in the vain hope of quelling the Warmaster's uprising?"

 

He smiled again, a sardonic baring of teeth that mirrored the bitter mirth of the daemonmask etched into the helm that lay before him.

 

"And just like my poor, deluded elder brother there, you see everyone's failings except your own. You call Calth an embarrassment? What then shall we say of your efforts at Prospero?

 

Command of the void, weight of numbers, Valdor's Companions, the soulless abominations of the Silent Sisterhood, led by your Primarch, Magnus himself undermining the defense...all that, and you still managed nothing more than a bungler's farce.

 

Had we fallen upon, say, the Legions of the Lord of lron or the Hydra and driven them back into the arms of the Emperor, then perhaps then you would be justified in comparing our efforts to that comedy of errors you and your packmates staged at Tizca."