Legion Smack Talk Thread

[Legatus]

*Shaking his head in regret at the words of the crimson clad member of the XVIIth Legion.*

"Do not project your failings onto others! Yours was not the way to conduct the crusade! The people of the countless worlds my Legion conquered do not dread the day of our return! If only your father had listened to his brothers, rather than to the voices in his mind!"

[Kol Saresk]

XVII Legion, Chapter of the Veiled Warden, Cult of the Ifrit Ashen Circle

 

His helm met the Salamander's sneer, its paint permanently darkened by the ashes of the very same mortals he spoke of earlier.

 

I am not the only one of us who plays at Humanity. I've seen what happens to the Fireborn when they give in to the bloodlust. I have seen what how the flames dance in the eyes of your Pyroclasts as they put whole cities to the pyre. I have seen you burn down women begging for mercy, just as I have. And I saw who you enjoyed it. For all your attempts to be closer to Humanity in the hopes it will hide your daemonic appearance, in truth you are no better than I, my brothers, or our cousins in the VIII.

 

I cast no aspersions, I only speak the truth none want to hear. I remember the days when your Legion had a thirst for self-destruction and I have seen how your Primarch has turned that outward with the lie that you are bringing rebirth through the purity of flames. There is no purity to fire. The only thing it leaves in its wake is ash.

 

*Here he stopped to lift a pouch from his belt. He remembered this pouch well, as he remembered the other ten at his belt. This one, it came from a battlefield known only to Imperial records as "Five Hundred and Thirty-Six-Seven".*

 

in this pouch, are the remains of a world. This world was peaceful. It had no weapons of war. Or at least none that could threaten us while we remained within our power armor and had the might of the Legions behind us. Its name was Shangri-La. Rather fitting.

 

My brothers an I and some of our cousins from the XVIII came to this world, back when we of the XVII were still the Imperial Heralds. This planet accepted us with open arms, let us into their cities and our mortal adjutants into their markets and homes. Talks of them joining the Imperium without bloodshed were going well. Until the talks reached one point: the pacifism of the locals. They had to give it up, as the Imperial Truth dictated that spiritual enlightenment was a fool's errand and Imperial Law dictated that as they had the population numbers, they must send tributes of soldiers to fight off-world.

 

Due to their willingness to work with the Imperium as long as they could protect their society, the iterators demanded that we, both the XVII and XVIII back down from our staunch positions. Faced with the voice of higher authority, my brothers and I backed down.

 

But not the XVIII.

 

No, they could not stand at this dissension. Much like you do here and now, they said Humanity must be united in all things!

 

These pouches at my belt, they all hold the ashes of a world I helped burn to nothing. But this one in my hand, I watched it burn. I did nothing to fan the flames, but neither did I fight them. These ashes of a peaceful world were made by the XVIII Legion, by your Legion Salamander and for no better reason than a world refused to fight for the Imperium despite its willingness to join and obey! It bent the knee and yet the most humane Legion was the one to burn it where it knelt in submission!

 

So go ahead, call me a monster. I am satisfied that both of our appearances match the monster within.

[Iron Father Ferrum]

 

 

I'd say that it's rather hard to be more uncaring then the Emperor, under him we've been little more then tools for war and destruction.

 

 

The black-clad Terminator's helmeted head slowly shook side to side in consternation.

 

"You still do not understand.  Yes, the Emperor treated us as tools for war and destruction.  As I've said before in this very council, we are weapons.  We were made with the sole purpose of fighting wars.  That is what we are, that is what we do, that is our purpose.  To be angry about it is equivalent to a hammer being upset about only being used to drive nails!  This line of whining on your part will garner you no sympathy here."

[Castiel]

"Lies and falsehoods, I expected nothing more from the false prophets. 536-7 or Shangri-La as you fancifully name it? That is no campaign that my legion ever undertook, and the actions you describe are certainly not how any of the Salamanders would act. Take your falsehoods and leave, worm. If anyone burned that world it would have been your Ashen Circle, those Iconoclasts that you hold so dear. Did you then raise temples upon it and try and force worship of the Emperor in those sent to colonise it?"

 

(Can we stick to the established fluff please? Just making up campaigns and actions to prove your point doesn't really work.)

[BassWave]

 

 

 

I'd say that it's rather hard to be more uncaring then the Emperor, under him we've been little more then tools for war and destruction.

 

 

The black-clad Terminator's helmeted head slowly shook side to side in consternation.

 

"You still do not understand.  Yes, the Emperor treated us as tools for war and destruction.  As I've said before in this very council, we are weapons.  We were made with the sole purpose of fighting wars.  That is what we are, that is what we do, that is our purpose.  To be angry about it is equivalent to a hammer being upset about only being used to drive nails!  This line of whining on your part will garner you no sympathy here."

 

 

"Pay the worm no heed brother. All that comes from his serpent tongue are the same moans over slavery, and the same tired jests. It appears the Third needs to be spoon fed their thoughts as well as their victories."

 

With that, the Tenth legionaire turned his back on the purple clad hedonist, cyber familiars resuming orbit. He had turned his attentions just in time to hear the Salamander and the Word Bearer's discussion. As the seccionist finished speaking, the sounds of an engine starting echoed through the room once more.

 

(OMG Kol, please tell me you didn't make that up! You have a source on that piece of fluff? Its delicious!)

[Kol Saresk]

(Of course I made it up. There were no Word Bearers present when Vulkan went bonkers and burned prisoners alive and enjoyed it in Vulkan Lives. I just took something that was present in established lore and added other hints of it elsewhere. If you prefer, I can use Vulkan Lives. I'm sure the Night Lords would love remembering that bit. :D)

 

EDIT: Apologies, quick skim through says Vulkan burned prisoners alive just to kill one xenos. The great humanitarian purposefully causing collateral damage. It was meant to hint at Vulkan's inner rage IIRC, a rage that most likely burns in his sons as well.

[Castiel]

(I think its better if we keep to established fluff, otherwise anyone could just make things up to suit themselves. Should point out that Vulkan burned an Eldar witch that was escaping and had just caused lots of human deaths in Vulkan Lives)

[BassWave]

(Well, kol, you're playing a word bearer. I'm sure he can acquire that sort of info with daemonic assistance ;) I was really hoping you were actually quoting fluff though, oh well)

[Kol Saresk]

(Me too. It'd be awesomely juicey. Hey FW/BL, call me!)

[Castiel]

(Of course I made it up. There were no Word Bearers present when Vulkan went bonkers and burned prisoners alive and enjoyed it in Vulkan Lives. I just took something that was present in established lore and added other hints of it elsewhere. If you prefer, I can use Vulkan Lives. I'm sure the Night Lords would love remembering that bit. )

EDIT: Apologies, quick skim through says Vulkan burned prisoners alive just to kill one xenos. The great humanitarian purposefully causing collateral damage. It was meant to hint at Vulkan's inner rage IIRC, a rage that most likely burns in his sons as well.

(No prisoners were burned, just the witch actually)

[Kol Saresk]

Hmph, believe what you will Salamander. It wouldn't be the first time something was struck from Imperial records. There was a short moment of silence that not even the humorous Emperor's Child and the snickering Night Lord dare breach.

 

But remind again of how the noble XVIII treat their prisoners? I hear tell of a joint venture between Curze and Vulkan that saw the mighty, noble and humane Lord of the Drakes burn down a xenos that had offered surrender, a prisoner of war at that? And all because of a death the xenos did not even cause?

[Castiel]

"The only thing that needs struck from Imperial records is the name of your legion and its pathetic excuse for a primarch. Aye, Vulkan burned a xenos witch to death when it offered surrender, but only after it and its kind had made an escape attempt that led to the death of many humans, either by the pressure of the panicking crowds, which was only alleviated by Vulkan pushing a Stormsword aside, or by the wayward fire of the VIII legion. The xenos caused many deaths that day, even if indirectly. Besides, killing the xenos to make the galaxy safe for humanity was one of our purposes. Do you really expect us to apologise for it?"

[Kol Saresk]

Why would I expect you to apologize for the very thing we would do? The Word Bearer replied with a grin.

 

You yourself just now admitted that if it was for the cause of Humanity Ascendant, you would do anything to see that goal, even the murder of innocents. You burn with the same hate we do, and yet you still hide behind this facade of nobility, as though it will erase the monster you are. No, we are alike you and I. We both have our devils inside and both of our forms have been twisted to reveal them for the whole galaxy to see.

 

It is an undeniable, and may I say fundamental, quality of Humankind that when faced with extinction, any alternative is preferable. So you walk your noble high road while I walk my low road. I'll get to Hell before you, but I will meet you there, Monster.

[Castiel]

"You think to goad me by calling me monster? I know what my appearance makes me look like and I am at peace with it. Our visage alone has been enough to inspire compliance on hundreds of worlds. The difference between you and me is this, Word Bearer, I have the outward appearance of a monster, but the heart of a man. For you the reverse is true. You are like a snake hidden beneath a flower, showing a pretty face to the world, but poison lies underneath."

[Loesh]

 

The black-clad Terminator's helmeted head slowly shook side to side in consternation.

 

"You still do not understand.  Yes, the Emperor treated us as tools for war and destruction.  As I've said before in this very council, we are weapons.  We were made with the sole purpose of fighting wars.  That is what we are, that is what we do, that is our purpose.  To be angry about it is equivalent to a hammer being upset about only being used to drive nails!  This line of whining on your part will garner you no sympathy here."

 

 

 

The son of Fulgrim shook his head right back.

 

"And yet, and YET, the other loyalists have the gall to bring up slavery to the dark gods, obligation, and causing destruction? Pfah! If our obligation is to war then I think i'm doing a rather fine job shattering the wretched edifice the Imperium has become, clearly the Emperors greatest mistake was that he made us a little too well. If you're happy with your lot in life then so be it, all I see is a terrible waste in potential."

[Iron Father Ferrum]

"Happiness has nothing to do with it; all emotion is an unfortunate side effect of our human origin and should be purged.  I am simply stating the truth.  We hammers.  We exist for the sole purpose of driving nails.  To claim otherwise or to step out of that role is simply unnatural."

[Loesh]

http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/mediawiki/images/5/56/Empschildrenlogo.gif

"I'd argue there's little natural about who, or what, we were before the Dark Gods, but even then if that's your natural order then i'd prefer to be unnatural."

[Relict]

The Contemptor Dreadnought in bone white and sky blue turned to regard his once-cousin of the Third Legion. If he still had a face, that face would have betrayed disgust mingled with pity. 

 

"Unnatural," The vox-speaker of the Ancient said. "'Unnatural' is an understatement of what you have allowed yourselves to degenerate into. I remember the Third Legion as it was, once - disciplined and resplendent. Yes, it was true that we disdained your obsession with beauty. However, it was also true that we admired the relentless precision with which you prosecuted warfare. I have been alive for a long time, whelp. I remember when your legion became arrogant beyond all measure. I remember when that arrogance led you down the path of corruption. Now look at yourselves - your twisted bodies contain only twisted souls. We World Eaters may fight each other, yes, but we do it in the pits, for honor. What honor do you have? You and your brothers murder and debase one another with no cause other than pleasure." 

[Wade Garrett]

XVll

 

"You put such faith in those little toys of yours." the Apostle said to the son of Ferrus, indicating the servo skulls still floating behind him. "Seeing into the souls of men, measuring the dimensions of the neverborn...let's put them to the test."

 

He spoke a Word, not in Colchisian, or Gothic, or any other tongue that those present (save for his own brothers and perhaps the son of Magnus) could comprehend. New reams of data poured through the lifeless eyes, uploaded directly into the mind of their master.

 

The readouts still showed fluctuations of Warp energy around the Bearers of the Word, the Son of Prospero, and the Child of the Emperor, but now...

 

The Raven Guard croaked hollowly as it gestured with malformed talons, a black eyed mockery of humanity....

 

The Ultramarine's blue armor was trimmed in blood red and faded bronze, hatred and martial pride radiating from its wearer like bloodmist...

 

The Dark Angel's robes dripped hideous ichors onto the table in front of him, his face a disease ridden skull as he sought to lord over his brethren...

 

Every one corrupted and twisted. His fellow X legionaries worst of all, the remains of their faces curling up in sick grins as they heeded the words of an iridescent giant with jeweled eyes, whispering for them to cut, and cut, and cut at their own flesh, to revel in the cold caress of iron...

 

Then the blasphemous data streams died, alongside the skulls that had been transmitting them, dead flesh and bionics perishing in sparks and flame at the touch of the Primordial Annihilator.

 

"When the weak willed look into the immaterium, it looks back into them." the Apostle hissed. "And your Legion is weak, Iron Hand. By your own creed I condemn you, for have your Iron Fathers not written that all flesh is weak?

 

And yet you are flesh, men of the Tenth. You were born to mortal parents, not hammered together in a foundry, no matter how much you wish otherwise.

 

That you deny this, that you reject it, that you mortify and mutilate yourselves to escape your nature of blood and bone...and you claim to know no fear? Pathetic."

[BassWave]

The ramblings of the mad preacher caught the terminator's attention. As the last words spewed from the madman's lips, the ebon machine strode forward, pistons and servos whirring softly. The Gorgon's son stopped just inches in front of the apostle, emerald eyes seemingly boring two holes through the traitor.

 

The intensity of the room was at its peak. Here stood two enemies within killing distance, each insane enough to risk the eternal fires of phosphex in order to land one, decisive, satisfying blow on the other.

 

Everyone gripped their weapons with an intensity that would have snapped a mortal's spine.

 

It was the cyber familiars that finally made a move. In unison they encircled their master's head, and with a hiss, removed his helmet. There was a moment where steam hissed obscuring the sight of his face. When the steam cleared, the visage of death itself greeted the apostle.

 

The Tenth legionaire's face was difficult to look at, as it brought revulsion and unease amongst his peers. There was not a shred of skin to be found on his head, nor were there eyes in his sockets. Only hollow, dark pits where they used to be. Tubes snaked in and out of nasal cavities and in past his jaws. The skull itself looked as if it had been dipped in molten lead and had allowed to dry.

 

 

"Look upon the face of true sacrifice." His mouth remained eerily shut as he spoke. "Each of my augmetics were the result of the sacrifices I have made in war. My right arm? Lost to the edge of a blade belonging to a now extinct Xenos race. My lower body? Lost to the power claw of an ork warboss whose Waagh had been utterly crushed. My face?..."

 

There was a pause as he made "eye" contact with one of the Night Haunter's spawn.

 

"Suffice it to say that I'm familiar with the feeling of phosphex boiling my flesh."

 

The revenant bore his gaze into the apostle once more.

 

"Instead of waiting idly by in the medicae ward for organic replacements. I chose to receive bionic augmentation in order to resume combat once more. Now, I am an almagation of all the sacrifices I have made to continue my duty to the species. I am now faster, better, harder, and stronger. Unlike your...mutations... my modifications are pure in human ingenuity. Despite my inhuman appearance, it is the pinnacle of human intelligence that has allowed me to still serve."

 

Despite the skull visage being unable to physically shift in emotion, somehow the shadows played across its surface in a more sinister fashion.

 

"The Tenth do not know fear, warp puppet. All my brothers here would gladly tear everyone in this room apart even with the threat of extermination with unquenchable flames. The problem is, none of you are worth it."

[Loesh]

http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/mediawiki/images/5/56/Empschildrenlogo.gif

 

The son of Fulgrim patiently listened intently to every word spoken, then slowly stepped forward.

 

"Are you quite done, you pile of scrap?

 

The point of sacrifice is to lose something in exchange for something else, yet in the same breath to you tell us of how it is the height of human ingenuity and how it makes you stronger, better, faster. If I actually believed such a thing I would say your sacrifice is worthless for getting something better out of the bargain, instead you'll have to be content with being pitied. My mutations are pure of flesh, delivered from the Prince of Excess on high and I would have it no other way! Machines are tools of empowerment, but they are not what make humans great, what makes humanity great is our hearts and our minds. No matter how much of yourself you replace with metal, no matter how much armor you'd coat yourself in, you'd either be virtually worthless or an unholy abomination without that fleshy blob in your head called a brain.

 

You'd be an inanimate object, fittingly, then you'd much better fit the definition of a 'puppet' then the Apostle."

[Russ Brother 92]

*striding forward beside his kinsmen, the breacher starts mouthing words of punishment, destruction and hatred in old Medusan tongues, each word tinged with intense glowing anger...*

 

"Child of Fulgrim, pride of the prince of excess... You are a melting pot of all that went wrong with our kind, your passion is true and once strengthened the boundaries of humanity, no it merely lives to destroy it. You and your cousin traitors are the true puppets here, enslaved to the will of the warp, tied down yet you have no homes or crowning glory - all that you fought for already is or soon will be bought but ash and rocks in the void... Know this TRAITOR and know that it shall be the once shattered legions who tear your heads from your shoulders, rip your minds apart and blast your rotted homelands to atoms!!"

[Loesh]

http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/mediawiki/images/5/56/Empschildrenlogo.gif

The son of Fulgrim turned on the newest one to speak.

 

"Then so be it! Better to be a slave to the Dark Gods then a slave to the Imperium, better every world be turned to ash then toil under the Emperor! Better to be tortured, better to die, then to never glimpse the glory of Chaos! For to never see Chaos is to never live for either yourself or those around you, if turning traitor means damnation then so be it and i'll enjoy taking as many of your kind down with me as I can."

[Russ Brother 92]

*The warrior's arm shot out, hand gripping the throat of his once-cousin Loesh...*

*A dense growl forms through the throat of the warrior... "Cousin, you do NOT live, you flee from your future and your death! So go now and carry on running, we shall chase you to the ends of this universe and into the next..."

*He releases the warrior and steps back, perturbed looks from the other Iron Hands, glowering eyes and hands on weapon hilts... A great boom echoes as Iconoclast Heathens smashes his fist upon the great table...*

[Loesh]

http://wh40k.lexicanum.com/mediawiki/images/5/56/Empschildrenlogo.gif

 

The Slaaneshi is startled, but only for a moment, letting him finish before speaking and rubbing his throat.

 

"Death is but a new sensation, I would not flee cousin, I would carry on the tradition of my Primarch and remove your head from your shoulders."