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post #1 of 4 (permalink) Old 01-02-11, 03:21 AM Thread Starter
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Default Bloody Sore

So, this is a story/poem that I've begun about the Dornian Heresy, specifically the Blood Angels. If anyone hasn't read that: it's an Alternate Heresy, actually the Alternate Heresy, and the Blood Angels are Nurgle mutant-cannibals. It will theoretically be very long, and time will tell how much I will finish (hopefully all).

Disclaimer: I don't own Warhammer 40K and asociated trademarks.

Also, I haven't abandoned To Face One's Doom, if anyone is wondering. I'll come back to that in a few days.

They were Legion- and sore, since the day they appeared in the sky near Baal,

Since their leader, their Primarch, their Angel, Sanguinius took leadership’s reins,

Since the one who was raised- in his time- by the mutant and cannibal tribes

That were great by their strangeness in form and were known as the Changed- since the being,

For the winged superhuman was that, since Sanguinius became in command

Of the Ninth, of the Legion Blood Angels- replacing each man with his own,

Making each of the Legion a Changed, killing, eating the others with sauce,

Or with alternate additives, appetite never being gone from their minds.

In the desert, the bones were consumed, and protected by powers above,

The Blood Angels flew out, and achieved stunning victories in their pretense

To be serving Man’s Emperor- glamours of Nurgle held well, hid the truth.

Still, equipment was weak and crusading, they came to a slowdown in time,

And the powers of he who they, happy, embraced brought malaise to their minds-

Though this major disease could be cured by consuming much blood, for the men.

Though Sanguinius himself did not suffer the pain of the troubling, slow plague,

He did not want the Legion to slow and to demonstrate weakness, for that

Would be deadly and bring more attention to any of them in their lies.

Thus Sanguinius, the Angel, the lord of a Legion corrupted- yet strong-

Thought, and searched for a cure, and attempted remembering something undone,

Something gone that he’d use for the Ninth’s resurrection- for he planned more war,

As he planned the conclusive rebellion to kill his true father- the one

That would hate him for cannibalism, and mutation, and life in the sands

That were coating Baal both before and beyond his arrival by pod.

They still covered the soil- radiation had changed all Baal past good’s bounds,

And the Wastelands had brought both the Changed and Sanguinius himself to their fates.

Radiation, perhaps, could indeed be the key and allow them to change-

They were altered already, so why would they not have more gene-change be done?

But Sanguinius knew well that mutations could not fix the tanks that they drove.

Radiation could not fix the spirit, and illness- the phage was much more,

For a simple contagion could not harm Astartes, the Legion would stay.

It was likely a link to the deity, Nurgle: Sanguinius knew well

Of the dangers in dealing with beings that were potent, mysterious, dark.

Such his father had been, but with time, his intentions were clearer than fact:

After all, had the Emperor not made attempts to destroy all the Changed?

He was heartless- or would be. Sanguinius would face him one day, win, and kill,

Rule it all- but about the destruction, decay of the Legion right now?

It was possibly hopeless, and yet pure despair could not rule him- not now!

There were methods, he knew, such as asking the Cogs- the Mechanicum’s help.

They would fix both their ships and their tanks, they could cure any troubles they had.

But they weren’t the Changed, and as such there was risk that the truth would be found.

They would have to discover a world where mutation was high, as was steel,

Where the mutated folk used technology too: those could help, aid the Ninth!

No such world had been found, even as the Blood Angels searched sectors past count.

Thus Sanguinius resolved to go on, not to alter their goals and their hopes.

He walked out- in a spaceship, his wings could not lift him above the steel ground-

And the chamber that said “meditation”, where Primarch Sanguinius relaxed

And at once concentrated on what he would do- it fell back from his gaze,

And Sanguinius began his lone walk thru the various hallways and stairs.

He looked out from his path, and he saw much destruction- the rust and the dirt,

Both the water and air seemed destructive to something so weak- it was weak,

And so many already stood still on Baal that construction was raised,

And the Changed with each moment came closer to being only captives of war,

To creating the engines and not living life as they did- as they should.

Thus Sanguinius descended, the ship still in transit across the wild realm

That the Emperor knew as the Warp, and Sanguinius cared little for names.

As the ship was transposing its bulk to wherever the landing would be,

On whatever location on their destination, the world Hijerull,

Something creaked- and Sanguinius, with many Astartes, rushed forth to find out

Whether this ship as well would be stuck and destroyed in this weird spaceless place.

First to reach the explosion, Sanguinius could see that the change was not huge,

But the damage sufficed to destroy any chance to fly out once again.

Thus the ship had to break its ascent- else, Sanguinius would guess, his own men

Would be forced to repair this construction, and they had no inkling of how,

Therefore- likely- unless they would exit the Warp, they were doomed to be stuck

On a ship that would not any longer remain truly shiplike in deed,

Though the outer form well could be seen as quite normal, if slightly harassed.

Thus Sanguinius cried out: “Be aware, you who pilots this ship: land right now!

We are horribly damaged by something or other, and doomed to the Warp!

If we exit right now- and we’re close, I suspect, to the world Hijerull-

We can land, and from there we will do what we do when on worlds: we shall eat,

We shall slowly digest their fat flesh and increase our own greatness and speed,

We shall grow for the better, Astartes- now listen to this, gather here!

Doom may seem to approach us, but I am right here, as are we- we’ll survive!

We are greatest of Changed, and so many are here in this ship- we’ll prevail!

Not a single Blood Angel shall bow to the Faceless and mad- we shall feast!”

Last edited by VulkansNodosaurus; 01-02-11 at 03:26 AM.
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post #2 of 4 (permalink) Old 01-29-11, 10:02 PM Thread Starter
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Replies? Anyone?
Here's section 2:

Azkaellon, a man in Sanguinius’ own guard, which did not have much use

To the Angel, who better than most could defend his own self from his foes,

Listened well to the speech that his leader was making, and roared his assent.

Those beneath him ignored Azkaellon, and he didn’t mind, for his lord

Was the one that he never would seek to control or betray in the Ninth.

As Sanguinius had helped him when he had the Faceless escaped, and had raised

Azkaellon beyond what a lot of the Changed had expected from him,

Now the Guard would repay yet the gratitude felt for being saved from being munched.

Thus he walked to his Primarch, as well as each other Sanguiniary Guard,

And saluted his lord, and again took up watch at his side in deep thought.

But that state did not last; for Sanguinius took action and helped with repair.

Thus he worked with the engines, without any praise to the Spirit Machine,

To the mind the Mechanicum saw in all things- and perhaps that was bad,

For the ship did not seem to obey the commands of Sanguinius, but shook.

In uncertainty, agony shook the Baal-Face and threw to the floor

Azkaellon and several others, the fury a thunder that rolled.

Azkaellon again the Mechanicum thought of and output a sigh,

As Sanguinius’ irreverence towards them was somewhat excessive and trite,

In a mind that was else quite uncluttered with thoughts that could hurt and not help.

True, as tools of the Emperor, they had the utter dislike by the Ninth,

But they had such experience that just denying it couldn’t help much.

Thus, Sanguinius was hurting himself- or he would be, if he knew as much

As his guard, but the Primarch of course knew far more than each other could guess.

Azkaellon, thus content, again picked himself off the floor and desired

To give aid to Sanguinius, and did, tweaking dials to bring it back in

And attempt to allow Baal-Face to return in full safety to space.

A Sanguiniary Priest walked to him, Azkaellon remarking at that:

“Well, there isn’t much room, but come on! There cannot be enough of us here!

If we don’t bring Baal-Face to safety, we’re doomed, all as one, save perhaps

Our most perfect of Angels, Sanguinius, which works with us now- do not fail!”

But indeed, Azkaellon himself felt the tiredness envelop his heart.

What was useful in this? Was it really correct for the ship to escape?

He pushed back those disturbing dark thoughts, as Baal-Face broke Warp-bounds again,

As Sanguinius rejoiced, lifting arms and his wings in triumphant success,

As the shuddering ship once again saw the stars that were not just a thought

Of the simple insanity that was the Warp and the monsters inside,

As the Priest Azkaellon had not quite convinced breathed and lowered his knife,

As indeed Azkaellon himself was content for a moment or two,

Right before once again a significant feeling of wrongness fought back.

He would live. They would live, and Baal-Face, despite the unfortunate name,

Would again bring them somewhere unknown in unending, uncertain, brute war-

That which gave them far greater abilities, now each was mightier yet

Of the Changed, for although implantation was painful and lasted for years,

It was worthwhile in full for the power and lifespan the gene-seed could give.

Many didn’t survive, Azkaellon could not pity them- they had failed.

So with that, Azkaellon bowed down to his master, as much as he could,

As his improvised armor still rested on him, and restricted his acts.

As the ship broke again into freedom, Sanguinius retreated to walk

To the bridge, Azkaellon immediately feeling a need to be there,

And while waving a hand in a motion to make the Sanguiniary Guard

Follow him and the Primarch, he set an example by rushing himself.

Thus they walked, with the jump-packs the Guards carried- few had endured on Baal,

But the Guards had them still- like the wings of Sanguinius, disturbing the air.

As the ship passed below, quite intact even though it had weakened in flight,

Azkaellon was second, a second behind his Sanguinius, his Lord.

This most honored position was followed by seven Blood Angels, and then

Strode high Ntolian, both Azkaellon’s commander, oppressor- the lie,

He who’d always opposed Azkaellon’s ability, ruthlessness, might.

And the last- last, a new one, Yelxeter, who’d turned a Blood Angel last year,

On the visit the Legion had paid to their homeworld to get newer tanks.

On the bridge, the control room, Sanguinius looked down at the Captain in doubt.

“Are you certain the main Navigator is blameless from major mistakes?

You know well that although they are mutants, a lot in my father have faith

And prefer to confer with his horrible self, and betray me and us.”

But the Captain, Lefreden, replied: “No, the fault did not flow from the bridge.

It was something mechanical- even the best Navigator could not

Make explosions the size of the blow that was heard by us all, in the hold.”

As the Primarch was content, the Guards saw no reason to doubt the account.

They were scattering slightly, to gaze from the windows outside Hijerull,

That new world that they’d heard traded, having technology plenty for- what?

Azkaellon did not know Sanguinius’ most secretive thoughts, nor his plans,

And did not truly care for the reason the world Hijerull had to fall.

Thus Sanguinius himself walked, and looked out the windows, and down at the world,

And declared, Azkaellon completely entranced by his words: “We will drop.

Yes, this world- I have doubts we can talk to this world. We will drop, we will kill!”
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post #3 of 4 (permalink) Old 01-30-11, 01:47 AM
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As one who is not exactly a fan of poetry, I must say I was impressed. You used simplistic words and imagery to great effect, making it readable yet enjoyable. I'll be looking forward to your next installment. Have some rep

Heresy-Online's Expeditious Stories Challenge 13-06: "Serenity" has started, get your stories in by July 11th!

Originally Posted by spanner94ezekiel View Post
3. Nothing Boc said should ever be taken seriously. Unless he's talking about being behind you. Then you run like fuck.
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post #4 of 4 (permalink) Old 01-30-11, 03:20 AM Thread Starter
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re: Boc. Thanks! The next installment will be next week, I would estimate, and will be from Lefreden's POV. Then, a couple of characters I don't know the names of and back to Sanguinius, or Azkaellon. Again, thanks for reading/commenting/compliments!

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The Emperor has turned to Chaos. The dream of the Imperium has become a nightmare. But Horus and his Coalition stand against the dark, here at the end of time.

Lorgar's Betrayal
What was broken has been mended. And what was burned away can never be reforged.
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