ask-omegon-primarch

[ask-omegon-primarch]

Alpharius, Konrad, Perturabo and Lorgar about to “reinforce” their loyalist brothers at Istvaan V.

You can find me over at twitter and Instagram as well,

and for those interested I also have a Patreon, Cheers!

[ask-omegon-primarch]

[New Sanguinius hc]

Apollo-阿波罗

Guangjian Huang

[ask-omegon-primarch]

Malice No More

There are few in the Galaxy that would claim worship of the Outcast God - intentionally at least. His tendrils are thin and subtle and his influence is felt not most in the bathing of blood or the degradation of cathedrals, but in the twisting self-destruction that goes unseen every day. 

But still. In a galaxy of never-ending war and hatred, the Sleeper Now Woken can still have some appeal. It’s a reprieve. From wrath and desire, from madness and misery. Malal will turn the pitiful over and tear out their suffering. There’s freedom in that. That’s what no one understands. There’s freedom in oblivion. To indulge is no shame, and to spread that is charity at its finest.

But still.

However free oblivion may be, to survive, to thrive in this age, there must be some structure to the void. It must have shape.

That’s what Omegon told himself as his children wheeled out the Sons of Malice.

It was a battle, but not a fight. Not really. The Alpha Legion doesn’t fight battles they intended on losing without serving a purpose, and the Sons of Malice were worthy prey. Their custom was cannibalism. It made infiltrating their slaves easy, but the Sons of Malice were silent and whispers were not easily heard. But the slaves proved their worth. The Space Hulk that the Sons lived on required heavy operation. When the day of battle came, not much more was needed. The Sons numbered less than a thousand, and small and scattered as the Alpha Legion was, few had seen so many together in a hundred-hundred years. The Sons fought with valor. They didn’t panic or falter, they didn’t retreat. Omegon wondered how many of them must have died before they were overpowered. 

He allowed the survivors to eat the traitorous slaves as a boon to them. Most screamed betrayal, but he noticed that some were completely quiet as the flesh was ground from their bodies. He thinks he’s proud of them.

Now all that’s left are the Sons.

They didn’t have to be restrained after their feast. They understood that they had lost. They looked up to Omegon with cold eyes, through cracked and splintered visors, armor punctured and scorched. Not a word.

He reached out to them and spoke. “My sons,” He began, his voice whispering in the backs of their skulls, like foul tendrils whipping out from a shadow. “You’ve served faithfully. You have upheld your rites when the mongrels declared you heretics. You fought against the Screaming Aether when the Rueful Four thought to claim you as their own. You were claimed by none and made your own way. When you bent your knees and pledged your souls to the One Abandoned, it was your own will.

Your will is not enough.” 

He closed his fist, his voice scratching at their bones.

“Our Lord needs more than your will, and he has sent me as his emissary to make you His. You will lose yourself. You will be no more. Your voice will be a whisper in a shout. Your bodies will be molded into shape.

We shall squeeze you empty and then we shall fill you with ourselves.” 

[ask-omegon-primarch]

id like to think that the surviving loyalist primarchs have sort of changed in 40k, like developed in some way. heres my take on the khan, vulkan and corax- all very accurate depictions, i assure you.

[ask-omegon-primarch]

Primarchs, according to thier Starbucks Order

A discussion with @mazarinedrake lead us to agree that Pre-heresy, Fulgrim was That Bitch that showed up 15 minute late to Primarch Meetings with a Starbucks, but also the guy with enough decency to also have everyone else’s order too.  Ergo, Pre-Heresy Primarch Starbucks Orders: Lion El’Johnson: Orders a Black Coffee then puts like 10 sugars and 20 creamers in it once he gets his hands on it.

Fulgrim: Sugarfree Coconut Milk Iced Coffee, but DID bring everyone else’s order too so ppl don’t judge him that much.

Perturabo: Tall Americano

Jakharti Khan: Trenta with as many shots of Espresso he can convince the Baristsa to put in, and a 5-hour energy for “creamer”.

Leman Russ: Complains that starbucks doesn’t have Beer, gets hot chocolate even though he’s both allergic to chocolate and lactose intolerant. 

Rogal Dorn: One Black Coffe ™

Konrad Curze: Triple Expresso, poured into his can of monster and drunk in front of Dad, God and everyone else.

Sanguinus: Decaf Unicorn Frap with Organic cane sugar and almond milk 

Ferrus Magnus: Complains that what starbucks makes isn’t TECHNICALLY a macchiato, but orders it anyway

Angorn: Never specified an order but the time Fulgrim gave him peppermint hot chocolate with marshmallows and sprinkes was the first time he did not use the hot beverage to assault someone SO-

Roubotte Guiliman:  Would have a Pumpkin Spice IV drip if possible.

Mortarion: Extra high fructose corn syrup, six shots, creamer-instead-of-milk Unicorn Frap.  Do NOT mix his and Sanguinus’ drinks up.

Magnus The Red: Order starts as a caramel macchiato but has so many substitutions and persnickety instructions that when it’s done it’s not.

Horus Lupercal: Keeps trying to order a “Double Double” and doesn’t understand why Starbucks and Tim Horton’s don’t have the same menu.

Lorgar Aurelian: Bottled water becuase Coffee is IMPURE (nvmd the morality of bottled water)

Vulkan: Matcha Frap, but he keeps smuggling Hotsauce in his armor and pours it in.  Everyone politely pretends not to notice.

Corvus Corax:  Lone Tea Drinker in the group. Has the Barista write “Black coffee” On the outside though.

Alpharius and Omegon: Their order is delivered to the local starbucks in a dead drop and changed thrice weekly.  The barista is supposed to only open the envelope when Fulgrim or another Recognized Representative places an order for “Lord Alpharius” BUT what nobody’s realized is the barista all got sick of that shit after like, a week and has been making stuff at random. Each thinks they’re being trolled by the other twin and refuse to be the first to crack.

[ask-omegon-primarch]

Fantasy Guide: Common battle wounds and how to fix them

Arrow wounds: Now if the lung, heart, kidney, other major organ is hit, there may be little to do. The kidney has a back up, so maybe a skilled surgeon could save him, not exactly sure however. If hit by an arrow and not hit dangerously in an organ or artery, we can help. Firstly, DO NOT REMOVE arrow by yanking. Arrow must be worked from the skin by skilled hands. Once arrow is out, wash would with clean water/alchohol/herbal remedies. To heal slow, sew up wound and wrap in bandages. To speed it up, cauterise the wound with fire. It will hurt and patient pay pass out but now the arrow wound can heal faster. This works for crossbow bolts as well. On the gross side, arrows may be smeared with dirt or shit, so sepsis is a danger. This is how the great Richard the Lionheart died. Sometimes the mighty lion is killed by a shit arrow. But hey, shit happens. Arrow wounds take a couple of weeks to heal.

Sword slashes: if shallow, wash and bind up. May require stitches. If deeper, repeat process with more stitches and more bandages. Even if shallow, the cut must be washed using alcohol or clean water. May take a few days to weeks to heal depending on wound depth and severity.

Stab wound: Again don’t remove knife or object. If already removed, wash would and sew it up. You may need to cauterise. If guts, organs, brain, is falling out, there is nothing to do. This may take a couple of weeks to months to heal depending on wound.

Broken Bones: A break must be splinted with a board of wood and bandages. Slings can support arms and wrists. If your character breaks a leg, it may be worse. Breaks don’t heal great without modern medicine. Your character may have a limp or leg pain. In you’re are living in a hot climate, you’re pretty much fucked because infection sets in fast. These may take months to heal.

For @maslovianwench

[ask-omegon-primarch]

[something that’s been long overdue :)]

[ask-omegon-primarch]

“I’ve found that one thin layer of green paint helps to maintain the illusion.”

This week’s sketch: Alpha Legionnaire dressed as a Ork meets Ork dressed as an Alpha Legionnaire.

[ask-omegon-primarch]

“I miss him.”

If my character was under a truth serum, what would you/your character ask them?

They have to tell the truth, remember!

[ask-omegon-primarch]

“Yes, all Guilliman geneseed here. Absolutely, no doubt. World Eaters? Never heard of ‘em. Angron who?”

Khorne who? We are simply loyal sons to Guilliman. Blood for the Emperor and Skulls for the Golden Throne and all that.

[ask-omegon-primarch]

“The answer is cowardice.”

53: Do you like giving head? (why/why not)

“Giving head? You mean, like…”

A daemon primarch stammered over his words like a child, unsure how to phrase the answer so it would not come out awkward.

“No,” he finally replied, with absolute certainty. But for whatever reason he refused to go into detail.

[ask-omegon-primarch]

[brothers who have been fighting wars w each other for hundreds of years acting like brothers and not borderline strangers]

// You’re not a true 40k fan until you come across some lore you just think is total crap and decide to completely take the setting into your own hands.

[ask-omegon-primarch]

villains are hard to design. making them ugly is dangerous, depending on what traits you choose to frame as monstrous or undesirable, you could very well end up saying something fatphobic, racist, anti-semitic, etc

but if you make a hot villain then people will get thirsty and demand redemptions and refuse to acknowledge their evil actions, no matter how despicable

[ask-omegon-primarch]

[Y’know, speaking about Jaghtai Khan, how bombass would it be if during End Times™ the “stuck in the Warp crew” of Leman, Corax, and maybe Janus-Shard yeeted into  Commorragh to get their speedy boy back and he was just sipping martinis w Vect, head of his own Kabal like ugh sorry v guess vacation’s over]

[ask-omegon-primarch]

“In honor of what I am told is a particularly patriotic holiday in some sector of the Imperium, I would like to announce that I am falling to Chaos.

No I am not accepting questions. Yes I will be razing your world and offering your heads to Slaanesh. Enjoy your barbeques, I know I will be!”

[ask-omegon-primarch]

The pair were just about chest to chest, Lorgar slightly taller. Even with his face fully covered, Omegon might as well have been carrying a wide, self-satisfied smirk that stretched from ear to ear. The two beady dots that acted as eyes narrowed in the helmet’s eyeslits, becoming little more than diagonal whites. 

“Just because something is a lie, that does not mean that it is not real.” The Emperor was not a God. He lived as a man and died on the Vengeful Spirit a death that would take millennia. But the Warp takes that grand lie, that he is a God, and reflects it within itself. The lie becomes reality. The truth is now as fiction, and lies reign. 

(Ask-Omegon Primarch) Grump zzz

@ask-omegon-primarchSleep deprivation was an interesting sensation for one who had never experienced it up until that point. “Damn the Youngest One and her ‘experiments’,” one part of the daemon primarch cursed. A herald of the Lord of Blood, so well integrated into Lorgar’s mind he might as well be Lorgar. Another part urged Lorgar not to fall asleep just yet. An equally integrated herald of the Prince of Pleasure. Two remaining heralds kept silent, thankfully.

“Interesting,“ Lorgar himself thought. “But it is logical, really. The most difficult parts of personality are the drive for aggression and the drive for pleasure… wait, what was I talking about?“

His thoughts were unclear. An hour of lone worship in an incense filled chamber would do that to you. Sicaran incense in particular. If a person was a mere mortal it could outright kill them, but for a primarch, prolonged exposure had resulted in a dream-like daze, one that he still struggled to shake off as he strode to his quarters. A few of his sons came to him with pleas, requests, prayers, but he brushed them off rudely. Something he knew he would regret later.

The massive gate opened, and Aurelian was briefly frozen in place when he saw a fellow primarch in full battle plate. His armour was a strange tint of blue, trimmed with silver, with green markings on his pauldrons.

“I assume you also have some pleas for me, Omegon Alpharius. Or was it Alpharius Omegon? Or am I Alpharius?“ Lorgar continued unfazed, believing that he was only taunting a mirage brought on by excessive inhalation of incense and sleep deprivation. He closed the gate behind him.

[ask-omegon-primarch]

Omegon raised a hand over the ‘mouth’ of his helmet, as though he were in shock. “I would have thought that you of all people would have been happy to hear of my turn to faith.” Again, he shrugged. “Then again, ‘Undivided’ never did mean undivided, did it, dear brother?” His tone was mockingly courteous, lacking at all in any fraternal respect. And truthfully, how could he respect him? Chaos Undivided. No bigger lie in the universe.

“It is a shame, really. You are a seeker of truth, are you not? And yet, here you are. A preacher of falsehoods. A minister of lies.” He shook his head. “Chaos was not meant to be undivided, nor is it meant to be worshipped. Chaos is simply that. To deny it was a sweeter hypocrisy than anything in the galaxy.” He took a step forward, the dancing flame at the tips of the candles turning away like trying to outrun a predator. “Perhaps it should be you who kneels to me for blessing.”

Blessing. Prayer. Faith. All lies. Omegon knew. The warp is a fickle and changing thing, full of spirits and devils, and to ascribe order to it, even the most debauched and terrible order that the ‘Gods’ promised, was nothing but a trick. Why lie? Why pretend that there is any method to madness? The only truth to them was that fundamental, ever haunting name that stuck to the foulness of the warp wherever it swept: Chaos. The truest thing in the universe. Do not spill blood for the Blood God, spill it in spite of him, spill it because it was meant to be spilled.

(Ask-Omegon Primarch) Grump zzz

@ask-omegon-primarchSleep deprivation was an interesting sensation for one who had never experienced it up until that point. “Damn the Youngest One and her ‘experiments’,” one part of the daemon primarch cursed. A herald of the Lord of Blood, so well integrated into Lorgar’s mind he might as well be Lorgar. Another part urged Lorgar not to fall asleep just yet. An equally integrated herald of the Prince of Pleasure. Two remaining heralds kept silent, thankfully.

“Interesting,“ Lorgar himself thought. “But it is logical, really. The most difficult parts of personality are the drive for aggression and the drive for pleasure… wait, what was I talking about?“

His thoughts were unclear. An hour of lone worship in an incense filled chamber would do that to you. Sicaran incense in particular. If a person was a mere mortal it could outright kill them, but for a primarch, prolonged exposure had resulted in a dream-like daze, one that he still struggled to shake off as he strode to his quarters. A few of his sons came to him with pleas, requests, prayers, but he brushed them off rudely. Something he knew he would regret later.

The massive gate opened, and Aurelian was briefly frozen in place when he saw a fellow primarch in full battle plate. His armour was a strange tint of blue, trimmed with silver, with green markings on his pauldrons.

“I assume you also have some pleas for me, Omegon Alpharius. Or was it Alpharius Omegon? Or am I Alpharius?“ Lorgar continued unfazed, believing that he was only taunting a mirage brought on by excessive inhalation of incense and sleep deprivation. He closed the gate behind him.