Legion Smack Talk Thread

[Toomanyprojects]

"Did you hear that?"

 

"No"

 

"Then you're already dead"

 

XX Legion has no need of smack talk :)

[Excessus]

"Did you hear that?"

"No"

"Then you're already dead"

XX Legion has no need of smack talk

Brother, we do it for the pretense. Keeping the targets in a false sense of security is imperative to success.

[Millicant]

(As I will be joining in soon, I would advocate the timeline should follow the current Black Library "position." That way we don't get ahead, and have a story progression to discuss as it happens! Very exciting that way.)

[Daemon2027]

(That's what I have been trying to do, talk up to the point the black librey books has. But also try to bare in mind spoilers and that not everyone in universe will have the same level of knowledge as we do as the reader)

[Daemon2027]

My Alpha Legion brother has it right. In fact I am proud to have member of the XX serve with my forces. Of course, that has nothing to do with the extra gene testing I have implemented.

 

(That is to say, I am still making that Alpha Legion kill team, only on the scale of my Sons. Also Word Bearers, I'm a complicated traitor :) )

[Millicant]

    The door at the entrance rumbled open, too old and worn to escape the attentions of the legionaires gathered within.  Where previously a single light shone over the grand, rounded table at the center, a pale glow now shone through the open hatch, casting new shadows into the darkened room.  A Legionary stood in the light, a second to his left and a pace behind.  After a short pause, he strode purposefully into the room, his second following suit with equal pride.  Immediately the worn MkII armour caught the attention of those gathered, bearing the signs of use in battles beyond memory, yet polished to a sheen that brought a reluctant, lopsided grin from a Child of the Emperor.  Bypassing the weapons rack, he stopped abruptly at the edge of the table.  

 

    The light over the center table illuminated a small area where representatives from the Legions approached to speak.  This room was sacred, set aside as a place of words instead of deeds.  None were allowed to break that covenant.  Some respected the bonds in place, while the honourless among those gathered simply acknowledged the presence of Phosphexerta Servitors lining the higher, unseen alcoves.  

 

    Weapons still resting at his side, the newest arrival raised his hand and pointed with two fingers at the son of Curze across the table.  The newcomer's eyes radiated a hatred that shone brightly through his helmet's red lenses.  A single bark of laughter from the scion of Fenris announced his surprise at not being chosen.  The extended gauntlet remained long enough to ensure there was no doubt of its target, then swung gently to the door.  A wicked and sadistic smile crept over the Night Lord's face, revealing sparking, sharpened teeth.  He shook his head slowly, clearly enjoying denying the request.  

 

    "Not today, cousin.  Perhaps some other time."  The smile remained, brimming with insincerity.  

 

    After a brief pause, the pointing legionary lowered his arm and reached for the ornate sword at his hip.  The Night Lord's smile faded abruptly, replaced by a more genuine expression.  Passing the hilt, the rich black hand found the scabbard's latch.  Removing it from his hip, the Legionaire passed the sword to his second without looking, followed by his pistol.  The second held both reverently, waiting for one more piece of wargear.  

 

    Keeping his gaze fixed on the Night Lord, the new arrival reached up to the latches on his helmet.  White feathers ruffled gently as he removed the ornate relic and placed it on the edge of the table.  The hard eyes were half-hidden in the shadow of his brow, but none doubted their target.  With a deep breath, he released the tension in the room and turned his head to observe every legionary gathered in turn, nodding slight to those he respected.  Finally finished, he nodded to his second, who moved to the weapons rack and carefully stored the entrusted items.  

 

   With a seemingly uncharacteristic grin, the Dark Angel spoke. 

 

   "Brothers."

[Slips]

http://www.reactiongifs.us/wp-content/uploads/2013/03/slow_clap_citizen_kane.gif

[BassWave]

The machine monster looked up from his contemptuous gaze. A newcomer had joined, also clad in obsidian, however it was clear that it wasn't a brother from the Tenth. His stride lacked the implacable determination the Tenth bore. Instead, it was an air of superiority, much like those of the Third. Unlike the Third, it lacked empty threats. He didn't even have to look at the new legionaire's symbol to recognize where he hailed from.

 

"Ironic that a legion that is lauded as the First is always last to join the fight."

[Daemon2027]

The Chieften replaced his helm

 

It's a shame, I would like to have played with the Angel. You fought for so long yet lacked the record of the XVIth. Maybe you shouldn't leave half your forces at home. Or are they your forces?

 

Unfortunate I must take my leave, a war to fight.

 

he turns, nodding at the shadows. From the darkness does a laugh, both human and devil. The beast steps out, parchment hanging from the cracked armour, the lines between flesh and armour blurred, blue flame dances across ceramite. A book is chained to his left shoulder, he stands over the tallest Astartes.

 

I am The Paladin. I have served this Imperium since the beginning. Now I serve the truth.

[Slips]

(hahaha seeing your posts about your sudden change to WB, I was half expecting it. Now we have representatives of all form of WB : Pre-H, Heresy and Late Heresy-we-are-daemons.)

 

 

The Templar looks to the Un-Astartes, a very visible look of contempt and barely contained rage on his face :

 

"Truly, Daemonspawn? I doubt anything of the 'Paladin' is left within you."

 

"You claim to be serving the truth but, I think everyone gathered here, except maybe for the Chaplain, would agree that you are filth worthy of contempt to be erased from existence. Abomination, your words are just lies that will fall on deaf ears here." He says indignantly.

 

(My slight flu might have made me a bit less coherent than I want to be, bear with me :( )

[Daemon2027]

(Yeah, im fairly tired and could probally have come up with something better)

 

I know the truth, the real truth, I have walked with The Devine, I have stood under the gaze of the very gods you deny. I have ascended, become more then just a gen enhanced man. You call me filth, I am the opposite, I am perfection, you call me daemonspawn...

the Gal Vorbaks voice had become steadily more demonic

A Daemon is just another name for a god.

[Slips]

The Templar casually rests his hands on the butt of Volkite Serpenta and the Pommel of his Power Sword and gazes into the un-eyes of the Daemon.

(for if you gaze too deeply into the abyss, the abyss gazes back into you...man I loved reading that line.)

 

"Tell me, Spawn (not the B-A comic book character), Do you, like all of us gathered here, fight in the name of Humanity? True we may be divided on what 'Fighting for Humanity' truly means at this point but, I doubt one such as yourself fights for such a cause, Aetherbeing."

[Daemon2027]

The beast flexes his claws, unnatural lightening coursed down the edges

 

Check yourself Templar, your namesakes served my Gods in a way you will never know. Of course I serve humanity. I will open our geno's eyes, show them the truth of the Gods. There is more horror in this universe then we have yet to see. The only way to survive is to accept the Gods into our souls.

 

(That quote works better with the rest, but also remember the abyss is something good, it's where our inspiration comes from. Also love Spawn)

[Leif Bearclaw]

I am The Paladin. I have served this Imperium since the beginning. Now I serve the truth.

(So you're being a Word Bearer now? That requires different smack talk to SoH, damn you .)

The grey clad warriors eyes shine golden, fangs bared as he confronts the abomination intruding on the conference.

Bah, the only truth you need concern yourself with this. You stand here a perversion of everything that was intended in the making of the Astartes. Even the deviant filth of the III, the unthinking butchers of the XII and the arch traitors of the XVI are paragons of truth and virtue in comparison to what you have inflicted upon yourself. When this gathering is concluded, fear for what is left of your soul, for my brothers and I will find you, and the last thing you will feel is my blade taking your head.

[Daemon2027]

(Lol, I change my mind a lot, my damnation really lies when I brought a Gal Vorbak off ebay to expirement with and I fell in love)

 

A guttural laugh came from within the Paladins helm, to onlookers an impossible smile spread across the helm, a trick of the light, or something more sinister

 

Ahhh the dogs, you tell me of the corruption on our soul, so why can I see the beast lurking behind your eyes. You are not pure, you have made your own deal, with the wolf. Come at me with your sword, but it's your teeth you want to use, and just remember, you are a tame dog, and I will put you down. Now slink off, this is a discussion not a fight, if it were, you would be dead already, as I am divine, and you are blind.

[Leif Bearclaw]

Once again, the VI Legionaire's mouth cracks in an amused grin, though his eyes remain cold as he faces the creature that was once an Astartes of the XVII Legion.

 

You seek to lecture me, and yet you understand so little. We all have our inner struggles, the turmoil our our Father's gene lines. The VIII have madness and cruelty, the IX and XII have different bloodlusts, the IV, VII, XIV and XVIII all have their own brand of unbreakable stubbornness, you of the XVII have the sickening need to prostrate yourselves before a higher power, and we have the beast within. What makes us your superior is how we deal with that flaw. You, and all your traitorous kin submitted to your flaws, gave up the struggle, and damned yourselves. We make no 'deal' with the beast, it is a foe to master that, when broken and controlled, becomes an asset to exploit. Those who fail to master their inner beast do not ascend to the ranks of the Rout. It is our victory over the Wulfen that makes us what we are, and gives us strength. Whereas you stand here a slave to your flaws, and all the more contemptible for it.

[Daemon2027]

We do not seek gods because we need to worship, we seek gods because we want the truth, and the truth is they exist. We worship them because it is right to show deference to the beings that have shown us the truth.

As for mastering your flaws, perhs we should ask a scion of Magnus about your mastery of the beast. I was shown the events of Prospero before you even wrote your oaths of moments. And perhaps you should ask one of your Gotti where their power really flows from. The earth of the iceball you call home, because that may be the biggest lie your legion tells. Their power is exactly the same as those of the XVth legion you were so happy to kill.

 

(Hmmm.... This is harder to argue then I thought, got to say I agree with the Space Wolves in regards to the XVth, it's all about control, the Thousand Sons had lost that, and the Space Wolves didn't. Although post Nikea they should have stopped imo. Also my iPad is about to die so to the 'morrow, or at least later today, good sirs).

[Excessus]

http://imageshack.com/a/img912/7973/tu7KbR.jpg

 

*Fingers danced over a keypad ad the Alpha Legionary's wrist, delivering a message to the strike cruiser in orbit. Reality ripped apart, revealing the crimson and gilded Mark IV armour, a colourful feather signifying the Pavoni heritage of the newcomer. The Alpha Legionary faded into the shadows as though an answer to the colourful presentation of the Thousand Son.*

 

Heel, daemon!

 

*The Thousand Son librarius member lashed out, seeping much of the unnatural warp powers out of the XVII legionary. While still dangerous and visually impressive, the lethal byproducts of the warp was calmed down to safe levels in the room. The unnatural light from the XVII thing shone bright to his aethersight, making him feel the urge to avert his eyes.*

 

What have you done, fanatic? Is your sense of self so little you willingly chain your soul to an inhabitant of the great ocean? Fool! The power of the great ocean is a powerful tool to use and it requires control and discipline, but giving up your spirit to the warp you have lost all that. The Vlka Fenryka are hypocrits and deniers of the truth, but at least they are honest about their primal nature. I could never imagine a fellow marine going to your lengths in this endeavour, I feel for you, brother...

[Jarl Kjaran Coldheart]

double post.

[Jarl Kjaran Coldheart]

                                                                                                  http://i69.photobucket.com/albums/i65/kieran_m/101px-Spacewolveslogo_zps817575af.png

 

*with a snarl the amused look worn so long  fades instantly, the facial expression finally matching the cold, murderous gaze. Raising his well notched axe and appearing as if he is moment sfrom launching across the table, he presents the image of one of the Rout in true form: matchless savagery and a desire for murder-make held in check by the iron strands of discipline. The kill urge fades with effort, the warrior caging his Wolf with monumental effort. Finally the axe comes to rest on the table, the fur clad giant unaware or uncaring of the reaction of those around him*

 

Hear the sorcerer speak as if he is the master here! He condemns the priest as if he doesnt consort with the same powers, make the same bargains. The powers of the spawn of Magnus are great, as is the depths they've fallen in their arrogance. They sought to harness the fell powers, to turn them into servants to clean their armor and service their bolter...They see themselves as the one source of knowledge, and thus blind themselves to the true depths of the Warp. 

 

They think themselves masters, but are so blinded they lack the sight to see the edge. They break every oath they've sworn, pushed every boundary they've come across. They were so arrogant to think they could push and conquer the Warp, thinking nothing could rival their spellcraft or cunning. They are so high minded that the powers they served duped them with ease. They turned to their "servants" in their hour of desperation, when the Wolves were at their throats. They found themselves as powerless to stop us as the gnat to the bear. They fought as any Astarte would, but their folly was revealed for all to see. They lacked the strenght of their own convictions in the end. Label the Rout as hypocrites if you will, we serve as we were forged by the All-Father. No trial or disgrace marks our wyrd. It is the Imperium's regret that you cannot say the same.

 

Dont damn your fellow oath breaker without a long look at yourself, and find the leash he wears around your own neck.

[Wade Garrett]

"Enough."

 

The Apostle's eyes narrowed in distaste as he looked at the others seated around the table.

 

"Balance your humors, all of you. This is a solemn conclave, not a Twelfth Legion fighting pit." He sighed, longer than any mere human could, and then began to speak once more.

 

"You, Iron Hand, are wrong. We are, one and all of us, inmortal.

 

You Wolves know it too. Our lives of flesh and blood are merely the beginning. ..but you, too, are wrong. You think that if you live honorably and die well, you go to Uppland.

 

Listen to me now if never before...there is only the Underverse. We all go there, and it is more terrible than you can imagine.

 

The Underverse. Slathissin. A billion, billion names, and every one of them falls short of the truth. Eternal torment. Do you know what those words mean? Every soul that ever was, flayed. Flensed. Infected. Vivisected. Violated. For all of time! And every soul that ever will be will join them unless we act!

 

The Emperor knows! He pretends that this existence is all there is, that the immaterium is merely a parallel dimension beside our own...any lie he can spread, that he can force others to believe. Anything but the truth. As long as He can rule the world of flesh he will gladly damn every soul within it to the flames!

 

That is why my Primarch walks this path! Not out of childish jealousy, or some obsessive need to bow before a god, or whatever other nonsense you blind fools accuse him of!

 

You say you fight for humanity. That you defend humanity. You are all wrong. What does it matter if you create a perfect kingdom, if all within it are safe, well fed, and happy, when their final destiny is an infinity of suffering?

 

Only in submission, cooperation, symbiosis...that is how we will spare mankind from torment unending. That is what we sacrifice millions... billions!-to avert. Sacrifice....it is never easy. If it is, it is no true sacrifice."

 

He was silent, then, but before anyone else could speak, he turned to the newly arrived Blessed Son, and addressed it in the tongue of the damned.

 

"And you...we bear the Word! It is our burden, not something to exult in! Not something to boast about like a child with a new toy! Control yourself! For if you shame our Legion farther, it will not be one of the False Emperor's bootlickers that sends you screaming back to the Sea of Souls!"

[Daemon2027]

[in Colchisian]

Save your sermon Chaplain, I have carried the word, through pain, through suffering, through pilgrimage, through faith. I have earned the right to praise the Word

[Millicant]

    He turned to regard the Iron Hand solemnly, taking in the words with great care.  As his brother finished speaking, the Dark Angel adopted a look of sincerity and compassion.  Staring into the bionic eyes across the dim table, he spoke softly, with consolation.  

 

    "My father grieved the loss of his brother, in his own way.  I know that he did not always agree with Lord Manus, but he had the utmost respect for his demise.  Better that he fall in loyalty than live as a traitor.  He gave his life to prove that no words could sway him and no supposed friend could convince him to abandon his duty.  There is no shame-"

 

    He stopped abruptly, as if realizing he misspoke.  With a downward glance, he continued smoothly.

 

    "-there is no better way to fall, than one last act of defiance.  No soul amongst humanity's empire will doubt the loyalty of your father.  Take pride in that, Iron brother."

 

    Pausing for a moment, the Dark Angel let his words hang in the silent room.  

 

    "As for my tardiness, I apologize most humbly."

 

    The mien of sincerity dropped away, hard eyes now fixing the Iron Hand with nothing resembling compassion.  

 

    "My war began before your human mother conceived you, when the Iron Tenth were but a burgeoning idea in the Emperor's mighty mind, when the First among you walked alone into the stars.  I marched from Terra without aid, without support, without seventeen other legions to stand beside me.  There is a reason we are the First, brother.  Do not think to sully our battle honors with your petty complaints."

 

    With a grand gesture, the Dark Angel bowed to the room.  A mocking grin flitted over his features as the heraldry on his pauldron were finally visible in the low light.  Centuries of warfare were written upon his shoulder, glories of battles before the formation of any other legion. 

[Excessus]

http://imagizer.imageshack.us/a/img912/7973/tu7KbR.jpg

 

*Still keeping a barrier active around the deformed half-legionary of the XVIIth, the Thousand Son bowed slightly to the Dark Angel. What was showed off was no combat record, no victories or glories, but the multitude of archaic well-balanced geometric patterns below his legion symbol. If there would have been a mortal calculus-adept in the room they would surely have brought tears to his eyes. Only the Thousand Son would know their meaning, and that seemed to be the point of it all, to show that there were more merits to the universe than a glorified history.*

 

As usual, brother, you of the first legion does not hesitate to rub your crusade record in everybody's faces given the chance for it. While we were still pacifying the remnants of the last resistance on Terra, you were given the opportunity to crusade. To show off that honour as if it was a choice you were in a position to make borders on arrogance befitting the Ultramarines or Sons of Horus. I had expected a more humble response from one of you old knights.

 

*The green lenses of his helm then focused on the members of the X legion, one at a time, with respect.*

 

The astartes of Legio X are not the only ones that has seen their primarch fall. I feel your pain, as I too saw my primarch fall during the razing of Tizca, struck down by the uncivilized barbarian Russ. Though he was later reincarnated as an etheral being befitting one as powerful as him, the moment he fell will always be imprinted in my soul.

[Legatus]

"I shall make a note for my Lord. Once the rebellion is dealt with and the crusade is resumed, we are to delay our advances and make sure to not progress any faster than the average, lest we be perceived as arrogant."

"On second tought, perhaps I should also suggest that we reduce our forces so that we command no more than anyone else."