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Warhammer 40,000: Discussione Generalis IV

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Light shone over a part of the battlefield. The Sanguinor hovered, five hundred feet away, sword held upright, finger pointing downward. Warriors in black battleplate appeared from the shimmering air, their armour covered in skulls and bones. Fire streamed from their eyes and mouths, and when their bolters fired, they shot strange ammunition of blue flame. The Legion of the Damned had come to aid the sons of Sanguinius in their hour of need. Dante blinked, but this vision did not disappear. His warriors shouted and howled, regaining some of their humanity, and pressing on after the revenants deeper into the hordes of tyranids. The tyranids fell back before their unearthly assailants. The trumpet sounded again, and the Sanguinor pointed again with his blade at a spot on the field. When Dante looked where the herald indicated, the reticle in his helm beat madly and flashed green. He blinked. In his fury he had forgotten his mission. His vision blurred, and the Sanguinor became an angel of flesh and blood, huge and mighty, clad in blood-red robes. 'Sanguinius?' Dante said. He pushed on, shoving his way through combatants whether alien, revenant, or Space Marine. A carnifex reared up before him, barring his way. Dante prepared to tackle it, hefted the sparking Axe Mortalis, but a helmless warrior barged past him, face locked in a savage rictus, teeth exposed, and engaged the creature in a hopeless, one-sided battle. Captain Fen, a quiet part of Dante remarked. The Angel Vermillion had been good to his word. Dante ran past, his last embers of intellect telling him he needed to reach the Sanguinor before he lost himself for good. He fought on, sometimes alone, but as he pushed on, he was surrounded by the ghostly shapes of the Legion of the Damned, whose ceaseless, uncanny fire felled aliens all around the Chapter Master, and so he drew nearer to the Sanguinor. He passed the first of the beasts of Amareo. The red-skinned giant lay curled up, childlike, surrounded by the rent bodies of tyranids, its face at peace as if sleeping after long efforts. The second came soon after, then the third. All were dead, their immortal bodies pierced in a hundred places each. The Sanguinor maintained its position, pointing downwards. Warriors from all over the field were converging on the point, not for tactics or for glory, or even for survival. They did it for fury. They did it for blood. They did it for their primarch. Sanguinius reached out to his sons through his herald, and commanded they strike one final blow in his name. They obeyed.
 
A glorious armoured warrior stood over him. His helm was fashioned in Sanguinius' image, the same face Dante himself had worn these long years. Five months earlier after Cryptus, Dante had looked into that mask and felt shame. He felt that shame no longer. The Sanguinor had come to him at the end of his service. 'You came,' he said. His throat was dry, his lips numb. The beautiful voice that had inspired millions was a harsh whisper. 'You came after all.' The Sanguinor kept its silence, but stood back and flung an arm wide to indicate a greater presence behind it. Dante's breath caught in his chest. Once again, he saw the face of Sanguinius, but this was no metal representation. The face was of flesh, the wings that spread either side of his body were white feathers, not cold sculpture. His body was as real as his sorrow. He shone like a desert sun in the full glory of noon, a bringer of light dangerous in its incandescent power. 'My son,' Sanguinius said. 'My greatest son.' The primarch reached out to him. Dante was on his back, but at the same time it was as if he floated in an immense void, and Sanguinius hovered in front of him. And yet, when the primarch cried, his tears fell forward onto Dante's face. All reality's order was disturbed, but this felt like no dream or vision. When Sanguinius' glowing fingers traced the line of Dante's cheek, they were solid and warm, and they brought into him a sense of peace and holy joy. 'You have suffered greatly for mankind's sake,' said Sanguinius. His voice was beautiful. 'You have won your rest a thousand times. Rarely has one man given so much, Luis of Baal Secundus. You have been a light in dark times. I would give you any reward. I would take you to my side. I would free you from strife. I would release you from pain.' 'Yes!' said Dante. 'Please. I have served so long. Grant me the freedom of death.' Sanguinius gave Dante a look of profound sorrow. 'I cannot. I regret that I can do none of those things. I need you, Dante. Your suffering is not done.' Sanguinius gripped Dante's face in both hands. Strength flowed from the primarch, driving out death's comfort and replacing it with pain. The scene rippled. He heard the shouts of Space Marines, felt the ghostly touch of living hands upon his armour. Sanguinius faded. 'Please, no!' Dante cried out. 'My lord, I have done enough. Please! Let me rest!' The light was dying; Sanguinius' smile carried with it the sorrows of ten thousand years. Darkness was returning. The Great Angel disappeared into it, but his glorious voice lingered a moment. 'I am sorry, my son, that you cannot rest. Not yet. Live, my son. Live.' Dante returned to life screaming for the mercy of death
 
No, that was not right. Not right. 'I am not Sanguinius!' he shouted. 'I will die as Dante!' He blinked. Horus was gone. The skulls were gone. Poison smoke was being harried to shreds by the gathering desert wind. He saw a light in the sky, a star? The redness of the warp storm seemed to be thinning. He stared dumbly upwards, wondering if the storm was over, until a screaming roar brought his attention back to earth. Fifty yards away was the largest hive tyrant Dante had ever seen. Upon backward-hinged legs it stood taller than a Dreadnought. Red spore clouds pumped from the chimneys on its high back. Bonded to its fists were four matched boneswords, with heavy ends as square and brutal as cleavers. He had heard of this thing, the galaxy's bane, the hive mind personified. Commander Dante faced the Swarm Lord. His perception coalesced around the monster. Reality reasserted itself, his visions driven off by the sheer physicality of the hive mind. The past gave way to the present. The sounds of battle returned, albeit muted. The horde was broken into pieces. The howling of his blood-mad warriors was scattered, so isolated there could only have been a few of them left. In the monster's eyes glimmered an ancient and powerful intellect. As old as he was, Dante felt like a newborn babe compared to the intelligence staring at him through that unblinking gaze. He sensed that there were two beings looking at him. The monster, and the being that controlled it. They were separate, yet one. A sense of crushing psychic might emanated from it, so great its grasp encompassed galaxies. There was sophistication there, and terrifying intelligence, but all were outweighed by its ­bottomless, eternal hunger. For the moment that the man and the monster stared into one another's souls, Dante pitied it. The hunger of the hive mind made the Red Thirst trivial by comparison.
 
Unclean energies spread through the sky, engulfing ships in writhing wreaths of hellish light. They burst and fell, burning with green flame. Reality quivered like a struck gong. All across the deserts of Baal, the tyranids stopped, and turned as one to face the heavens, their mouths open as wide as they would go.
The awful shriek came from a billion alien throats.
The Hive Mind was screaming.
Screaming warp fire crashed against the gestalt soul of the tyranids, catching it unawares. The delicate synaptic web that bound its numberless minds into one being shrivelled like thread in a fire. Never before had the Hive Mind been so grievously wounded. Its control over its trillions of bodies was violently disrupted. Hive fleet was cleaved from hive fleet, brood from brood so catastrophically that for a moment the Hive Mind ceased to be. It recovered quickly, diminished but alive, but that moment seemed to the Hive Mind an eternity of darkness. Trillions of its creatures permanently lost touch with the Hive Mind, and were reduced to unthinking animals.
For the first time in its existence, the Hive Mind tasted death.
In the Baal system hundreds of thousands of tyranids died, their brain stems reduced to smoking mulch by psychic feedback. Aggressive void predators became drifting hulks in the space of an instant. In the strategium Dante collapsed, unconscious. Thousands of Space Marines of the Blood followed him. Many awoke with no memory of who they were, their scarred minds full of visions of Sanguinius' death. The end of their own lives in madness and blood beckoned.
The Cicatrix Maledictum had opened.
Chaos vs Tyranids

Chaos wins.
 
Matthew Schroeder said:
:Unclean energies spread through the sky, engulfing ships in writhing wreaths of hellish light. They burst and fell, burning with green flame. Reality quivered like a struck gong. All across the deserts of Baal, the tyranids stopped, and turned as one to face the heavens, their mouths open as wide as they would go.:The awful shriek came from a billion alien throats.
The Hive Mind was screaming.
Screaming warp fire crashed against the gestalt soul of the tyranids, catching it unawares. The delicate synaptic web that bound its numberless minds into one being shrivelled like thread in a fire. Never before had the Hive Mind been so grievously wounded. Its control over its trillions of bodies was violently disrupted. Hive fleet was cleaved from hive fleet, brood from brood so catastrophically that for a moment the Hive Mind ceased to be. It recovered quickly, diminished but alive, but that moment seemed to the Hive Mind an eternity of darkness. Trillions of its creatures permanently lost touch with the Hive Mind, and were reduced to unthinking animals.
For the first time in its existence, the Hive Mind tasted death.
In the Baal system hundreds of thousands of tyranids died, their brain stems reduced to smoking mulch by psychic feedback. Aggressive void predators became drifting hulks in the space of an instant. In the strategium Dante collapsed, unconscious. Thousands of Space Marines of the Blood followed him. Many awoke with no memory of who they were, their scarred minds full of visions of Sanguinius' death. The end of their own lives in madness and blood beckoned.
The Cicatrix Maledictum had opened.
Chaos vs Tyranids

Chaos wins.
Click to expand...
BUT BUT BUT MUH TYRANIDS CODAX
 
Aye. That makes it easier to do while adjusting the profiles on the new Warhammer thread when linking and such.
 
Should the Daemon Primarchs and Greater Daemons be at the same level with Ka'Bandha? Anyway is a 1-C thing applicable for combat purposes?
 
The Warp is one giant mess of tiers and it is incredibly unlikely we will ever get a standard for how powerful certain characters are in the higher tiers of strength that aren't the chaos gods imo.
 
A planetary system loomed up. He slowed further and steered close to take a good look at it. Its sun was huge, except that it was not what he would normally think of as a sun. It was not spherical but a flat disc, in colour a brilliant shimmering green. There were at least twenty different planets, each a different colour- mauve, russet, lemon yellow, magenta- but they were not arranged as planets normally are. Instead of being roughly in the same plane, their orbits criss-crossed at all angles, like the electrons of an atom, and sometimes more than one planet shared the same orbit.

Then something appeared which caused Calliden to sit stock-still with shock. A figure was flying through the system, and it was bigger than the planets themselves, bigger than the disc-shaped green sun. A vaguely humanoid figure but crimson-furred, with a ferociously fanged, dog-like head, eyes glaring like pits of blood from beneath jutting horns, the head topped by great angled horns plus a twisted unicorn horn jutting from the crown. The creature was flying by, flapping great membranous wings which put a dozen planets in shadow with each pass. It wore brief, ornately worked armour down to the waist, glinting red and black, close-fitting except at the shoulders which were protected by raised and extravagantly worked pieces. The curve-bladed battle-axe it carried in one hand, holding the haft loosely as it flew, was bronze-black and vaster than any weapon should be. A supernatural energy seemed to flow and crackle through the unbelievable apparition, making it more solid-seeming, more real, than any natural creature.

"What- what-"

Calliden stuttered until his mind found a rational explanation. "It's a hallucination. Can you see it, Kwyler?"

Though frightened, Kwyler was not quite as astonished as the navigator. "It is real," he said quietly, his mouth dry. "A daemon, one of rank too."

Now something happened which confused Calliden at first. The apparition seemed to be retreating. Too late, be realized that it in fact was approaching, but diminishing in size at the same time. The daemon seemed angry. It flew alongside the Wandering Star, no more than twenty times the size of the spacecraft now, glancing at it sidelong with its smoldering eyes, wings beating majestically.

"How can it use those wings to fly in space?" Calliden queried hysterically. "It flies on warp currents. Be careful. Don't do anything. Perhaps it will go away."

Calliden shrieked and pulled on the controls as the warp entity, in a sudden rage, swung round and lashed out with the battle-axe, itself larger than the starship. The Wandering Star jinked aside, narrowly missing being crushed by the blow, then sped off. The daemon did not follow. The spaceship was too minute to be worth the bother, no more significant than a gnat. When last he looked Calliden saw the immense Chaos creature, system-sized again, taking his frustration out on one of the circling coloured worlds, batting it sidewise with the flat of the battle-axe, and sending the broken pieces hurtling into the disc-shaped sun. For the very first time the navigator felt that now he truly understood what it was that the divine Emperor was striving to protect the human race from. Briefly he wondered if the smashed planet had had a human population. -Eye of Terror Page 96-97

Note: Just posting this here for a feat to be reminded. Not that it's anything new or such, i know. Just i'd rather not want to go search around web-sites for this particular feat.
 
Azathoth the Abyssal Idiot said:
God I really need to get off my ass and update the Chaos blog with some more recent stuff, later.
Click to expand...
Bruh, we're getting Blood Angels and Dark Angels Primaris and new Sly Marbo for Christmas.
 
>blood angels

eh.

>dark angels

ew.

>S L Y M A R B O

AAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
 
Belisarius Cawl enjoyed listening to music while he worked. Today's choice was an ancient composition of thrilling complexity whose notes delightfully evoked the mathematics of noospheric data exchange packets in a virtual, nine-dimensional informational manifold exchange. It was doubtless a complete coincidence, for the man who had written it had been born tens of thousands of years before such things existed. Art was a matter of subjective enjoyment. It spoke to the consumer more than it did the artist who created it. For all Cawl knew, the composer had hated the piece, dissatisfied with its finished form. Perhaps it had not lived up to his design, or had disappointed him due to some flaw that tarnished its excellence for him but was invisible to all others.

-In the Grim Darkness
 
Anything in particular about him? He seems interesting enough that I kind of want to make a profile of him if no one else does. Though help on what powers he has besides peecog would be very beneficial.
 
He survived being thrown into the Well of Eternity, which destroyed numerous other Lords of Change, and which even Tzeentch was not guaranteed to survive.

He's got what most generic psykers and Lords of Change have, but to a much greater degree. Stuff like fate manipulation, matter manipulation, empathic manipulation, etc.
 
Oh right sry, I did read about that part of him.

You guys mind if I at least make a rough draft of him later and show what I got and, if anything, share editing on it?
 
So while in the process of on and off studying for my final exam this coming week and doing a super rough draft of Kairo's page, can i ask if Big E should have Sealing? I don't see it on his page yet apparently on Drach'nye's page, it said that he had to resort to sealing the Daemon when he was incapable of it killing it so...any thoughts?
 
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