#musings on custodes

[minweber]

Musings on Custodes: The Power of Names

One of my favourite headcanons for Custodes is all about what their naming conventions should be.

And you can consider the title a clickbait, since I don't actually mean their famous practice of names acquisition, but rather the way they name things around them, particularly - their various tools and weapons.

It is a whole thing with Custodes that they don’t really see themselves as a part of the Imperium - not just in terms of command structure, but in the general sense of “we want nothing to do with that thing and only care about what happens to it in very roundabout ways”. Which, bear in mind, is not a moral stance on their part - they are all about autocratic empires, it’s just that this one isn’t being currently ruled over by their specialest guy in the whole universe. And yet they still have to regularly interact with its variously washed masses, so it’s not hard to imagine that they would want to differentiate themselves from them as much as possible in the process.

Which presents a bit of a challenge, since their whole visual aesthetic is very much the Imperium’s turned up to 11 - nothing is more abundant in imperial iconography than gold and eagles.

But you know what isn’t?

Memory.

Cultural memory specifically. Custodes' relatively unique access to the cultural knowledge of humanity's distant past has always been an important, if not an extremely prominent part of their lore. They know a lot about Terra's ancient history, culture, philosophy, music, nature! Surely, like every elite in history in similar position, they would use this knowledge to separate themselves from those without it. And names are quite an efficient way of doing that!

In fact, they already kind of do this. You can't tell me that an imperial naval commander ordering their fighters to clear a path for an Orion dropship knows who (or even what) the fuck "Orion" is. The same can be basically said for all current Custodes vehicles: Ares, Pallas, Coronus, Calladius, Galatus, Achillus, Telemon - to most of the Imperium's population in 42nd millennium those would probably be somewhat recognizable High Gothic-related words at best, and complete nonsense at worst.

But those are, on meta level, just expressions of Custodes' hellenistic theme. And in-universe those names were probably given out a long time ago, for different reasons and likely not even by custodians themselves. So I would love to see this realized in more ways. Through references to other mythologies, other types stories, other areas of human knowledge.

Like, say - Custodes are clearly well suited to a bird of prey motif, what's with striking suddenly and precisely from the sky and all the regal associations. But everybody and their mother within the Imperium apparently knows what an eagle is, even though I doubt that any of the Terra's bird species to bear the name actually survived into the grimdark future. Dawneagle Jetbike my ass - you'll only have yourself to blame when a crate full of them gets sent to a Space Marine chapter because it sounds exactly like something they would have (not to mention the fact that there is like an 80% chance that "Dawn Eagles" are already a chapter somewhere out there). But surely there are other predator birds to use when naming stuff? Ones that would actually be way more meaningful for you, because you are basically the only ones left to know that they ever existed? "Osprey" and "Kestrel" sound cool! "Buzzard" maybe not so much, but it is unique! And uniqueness is an actual requirement if an important part of your identity revolves around knowing things that everyone else has forgotten.

It would be cool, I think, if appreciation of the value of this lost knowledge was played up as a larger part of the Custodes' deal. A lot of cultural symbols familiar to us nowadays seem to have survived into the distant future by being so deeply embedded in our ideas of power and proficiency - all the more reason to appreciate that which fell by the wayside. "Yeah, this simple word is just a name of an animal or an item that small groups of humans in an unimaginably distant past used to associate with something - but I know that, and you don't, and that makes it meaningful to me" sort of deal. Mundane that becomes mystical by the virtue of having been lost.

So, I guess what I am saying is that I would love to see Custodes rock up to a CSM ship named something like Covenant of Despair, which just finished crunching through the Imperial battleship Litany of Defiance, and proceeding to absolutely wreck their shit from aboard the assault cruiser Frogmouth .

[divinituscaptivus]

"Yes, there are women among my protectors. I do not see why this is revolutionary."

[grimdarknesstales]

Shield-Captain Salvador

Tittle: Shield-Captain Salvador

Gender: Male

Specie: Human/ Custode/ Draenaught

Affiliation: The Emperor of Mankind

Occupation: Shield-Captain, Ambassador, Imperial Commander, Spy

Background: 

Salvador is an ancient Custodes who have served the Emperor for millennia; from the great crusade and through the Horus Heresy, he has seen the Imperium rise and fall from grace. Yet he remained loyal to the Emperor's vision. During the age of apostasy, he was assigned as Shield-Captain of Aquilan Shield in charge of protecting an imperial guard assigned to one of the crusades heading toward the north of the eye of terror under the order of Goge Vandire. At first, he didn't think much of this mission as the ever-loyal Custode. It wasn't in any position to question the Emperor's judgment.

This mission proved disastrous, and nearly lost when their fleet was ambushed and almost completely whipped out by the esoteric and powerful weapons wielded by the mysterious force inhabiting the system. Only a few troops survived the onslaught thanks to the ingenuity of the imperial guard they were assigned to protect. This allows them to make first contact with the mysterious forces currently controlling that system. A group of humans from the dark age of technology going by the name of the "Human Enclave." Realizing the potential this faction of humanity holds, Salvador began to understand why he was assigned on this mission and quickly fulfilled his duty as a diplomat with this advanced sect of humanity. It took many months, but eventually, Salvador formed a secret treaty between the two factions in which the Human Enclave shall remain a secret from the Imperium in exchange for their service to the Emperor and mankind. 

After Salvador settled such a deal. He continued to serve the Emperor as Ambassador of the Imperium of Man, Imperial Commander of a planet given by the Human Enclave as embassy and imperial colony inside their border, as well as spy, keeping his brothers in holy terra informed of the happenings of this human faction. He has been doing it for millennia, enduring the path of time and battles to the point of being trapped inside a Contemptor-Galactus Class Dreadnought.

[thethronezone]

Arggg im obsessed with your musings! Can we get more things involving the Emperor?

An exploration of the less glamorous side effects of overusing psychic powers (dizzy, nose bleeds, nausea) and how his Custodes or Primarchs deal/react with their lord/father effectively being sick and/or overworked

Otherwise, i'd love to hear about the sort of ways (and instances) through which he expresses love or affection

As great and powerful as their master is, the burdens he carry are enough to kill a lesser man. And while their master persists, he does eventually tire.

The custodes recognize the signs where others don't. To the masses, the Emperor is more than just a ruler; he is a symbol of dedication. As such, the thought of him ever growing weary is unthinkable. But his faithful custodes know better. They see how his sharp eyes scan for the exit. They hear his words grow sharp, his sentences clipped and harsher than normal. Small details that no normal baseline could ever hope to perceive.

They prepare his personal chambers for him the way they know he likes it. Dim lighting, incense made out of old Terran flora and a bath with water so hot it would scald any lesser being. In the Emperor's personal baths, the air is thick with steam and the scent of a flower no one but the Emperor remembers the name of.

When all is prepared, they wait for him, and they don't have to wait long as the Emperor barges into his chambers, slamming the door shut behind him, a clear sign of his troubled mind and restless spirit. He does not stumble but his center of gravity is slightly off, more forward leaning that usual, and his pupils are almost lost in the sea of gold that are his irises.

Immediately, and without a word, his loyal custodes are there, removing his armor for him with both absolute reverence and hurry, as it just won't do to make their master wait even a moment longer than necessary. Unless spoken to, nothing is said during this moment, the silence filled by the sound of clinking armor and soft clicks and hisses from ancient machinery. Their master's hand clench and unclench with impatience and they work even faster.

Once bare, the Emperor slinks into the bath that has been prepared for him, eyes closing and letting out a quiet sigh of relief as the hot water gradually eases the tenseness out of his muscles. He leans his head back and that's when one of the custodes approach, out of their own armor and dressed in a simple robe. In silence, they lather their hands in oil and starts massaging their master's scalp before working their fingers through his hair. The custodi works slowly but methodically, well aware of what movements and pressure pleases the Emperor.

Once done with his hair, they cover their hands with another kind of oil and start massaging the rest of his body. His neck, his shoulders, his back, arms, hand, legs and feet. When needed, they dip into the water to reach whatever body part is next, uncaring about the way their wet robe clings to their skin. And then, and only once the massage is done, does the custodi stand up, bow, and leave, their duty done for now.

The Emperor stays seated in the bath for an hour, not a minute longer. That's all he allows himself, for his work is never ending and his duties won't wait, even for him. And just like how they helped remove his armor, his custodes are there to help him get dressed. Not in armor this time, no, but a simple yet elegant robe. It's comfortable.

As they dry their master off and slip the robe over his powerful frame, they provide him information on whatever might have happened while he's had his short moment of rest. His responses and questions are short and to the point but they lack the harshness they previously bore. And that's when the custodes know that they have succeeded in their duty once more and have, for even just a short while, managed to relieve the heavy burden that lies on their master's shoulders.

[his-dedicated-sensei]

Anatomy.

A small musing on quiet evenings with the Emperor.

It's a simple affair to Him.

You rest there, body cushioned by velvet, head only slightly raised by the softest of cotton pillows. You don't question how He can manage this luxury with His grand ideas going on. But you rest.

His footfalls are what you know best. Each feels like thunder, yet, with the rhythmic timing of a metronome. You remember flinching when you first heard Him, in that armour of His, with all those mighty warriors by His side. You are as you were now - without fear.

His hands - ah, more His fingers - it's hard to explain. He begins to massage, just along your ankles, and shins. It does not take Him long - but He knows it intricately. The body, that is (and not just yours). You feel every moment, laying there, His hands working every muscle, every tendon. To Him, it was the simple idea of recounting anatomy in your being - how a human should be, how they were put together.

He works. It's silent, mostly, but exquisite - even your bones come to rest as you feel those hands of His move towards the knees, then to your thighs. Millennia of being with humans, you wager, is how He learned. A breath leaves your body, shaky, yet relaxed. He loves this body, you wager, for He knows it more than others. It's His favourite to diagram - yet, He'd never tell.

The Custodes paint you, sometimes. He guides them on the finer details of anatomy - your anatomy. After all, you are human, just human, brilliantly human. That's why, in these moments, away from the humans He saves daily, He turns to you.

You wager, as His fingers now graze along your hip - ah, there's another breath - you wager He does it to remind Himself. Not of what anatomy is, but why He cherishes it. Why - goodness, that's... a bit of a new spot - why He keeps fighting for our sakes.

You feel His breath, for a moment. This position, you see Him reflect a moment on your midriff, as if counting all the cells within you - all the blood running through veins and arteries - you gently shift your leg, finding the blush on your face too bright.

He looks to you. He moves back, softly, though you hear Him chuckle. Anatomy, after all, is simple to Him, in how it reacts. Perhaps, in time, He will help with other matters of anatomy - but for now, He takes your hand, and with a squeeze that could just as easily shatter stone like glass, moves his thumb along your skin, holding you like glass.

Simple matters of anatomy, where the bones in your hands can feel the bones in His. You only hope, in time, you know His anatomy just as well as He knows yours.

[shiyorin]

Hello👋 I hope you're doing well) if the requests are still open, can you write something for the Emperor of Mankind? 🤭 A soft Yandere with the reader psyker eternal. He does not like when anyone other than Malcador and the Custodians communicate with her, even the primarchs saw her only fleetingly at celebrations. But the reader is completely satisfied with everything. She can do her favorite things and not worry about anything. Dream🥰

The description of the Emperor here is quite vague because I like the way he is portrayed through others's POV. But here we are.

You gazed into the dying embers of the fire, listening to the familiar sounds of your chamber settling into nightly slumber around you. Another day had drawn to a close within the confines of the Imperial Palace, but not for you.

Not yet.

You rose and drifted to the window, looking out upon the sprawling expanse of the Terra below. Lights in thousands of windows flickered like distant stars, whole hive districts darkened as the citizens within their live. All throughout the realm, lives wound down in preparation for the coming dawn.

All except you, it seemed. Not until he came.

As always, your thoughts turned inevitably to him. The gilded cage he had granted you so long ago, this place that served now as your one and onlyhome, however grand. A sanctuary from the cruel outside world, and yet, a prison nonetheless.

His sanctuary. His prison. His… everything.

Always he came to you here at night's deepest hour, even his Custodes can't come here. When the shadows within shadows held dominion and privacy was assured. That was when he would emerge like a wraith to steal what moments he could find in your company, before withdrawing back into the places from whence he came.

The routine had repeated for centuries unchanging. Long ago you had ceased to question its purpose or meaning. It simply was as immutable. Their tryst formed one more link in the chain binding your existence to his in servitude.

Tomorrow, as always, you would see him withdraw once more into isolation, leaving you to continue existing at the periphery, useful, beloved, and ultimately powerless. Another day would pass, and another, each one leading you gradually further from the life you had known outside these walls. From the dreams, ambitions, and connections of your former self.

Until at last even memory itself began to fade like mist beneath the dawn. Only he remained, constant as the Star to guide you remaining years. Your Emperor. Your Master of Mankind. Your God.

His coming disrupted your musings, as inevitable as the tides. You sensed the stirring in the aether that preceded his physical arrival, the subtle bending of probabilities and skein of fate. A shiver traced its way down your spine in premonition.

Turning, you beheld him emerging from a fold in reality itself. Golden light spilled through the rent as he stepped free, severing the passageway behind with a negligent wave. Clad as ever in gold, eyes gleaming like twin suns beneath his ornate armor, he commanded the room utterly.

A god made from a human. Destined to rule all, whether worshipped or reviled. Yours, eternally.

"My dearest." His voice enfolded you, smooth as fine wine yet bearing weight of aeons. "You await me still."

A statement, not a question. He knew as well as you the path each night would take, the steps they must dance through countless repetitions. And the ritual brought them comfort, as all such familiar routines do in a chaotic universe.

You inclined your head. "Always, my lord."

Crossing to your side, he lifted a hand to cradle your cheek, a lover's caress from one who spurned all other connection or weakness. For him there was only duty. Only for you.

You leaned into his touch with a soft sigh, closing your eyes the better to engrave this fleeting instant of intimacy upon your memories. Savoring each sensation as though it were their last, though repetition had dulled the keen edge of uncertainty long ago.

Your Emperor. Your constant. Your prison. Your everything.

[kit-williams]

The Yandere Space Marine Masterlist

Descriptions Modern!au

Dark Angels Azazel Erros x Mortal/Pet Secret Sin Azazel rework: Sick Thoughts

Emperor's Children Palion Hiss x Muse Beauty in the Eye

Iron Warriors Harram the Wallbreaker x Orichalcum/Ori Heartless Madness

White Scars Nogai Sengik x Хонгор I wanna be your slave

Space Wolves Captain Arkyn Joriki x Elskling War Wife

Volak x husband Algir x gn partner Baldun x wife Olgus x husband Svat x wife Rune Priest Odus x wife Hvold x wife Seven Brides for Seven Brothers

Imperial Fists Astel Redlane x Mouse The Spider Suite

Night Lords Ghosk Sevyrarek x Rabbit Run Rabbit Run

Anrir Nor x Caretaker Pastel Bats Sleeping Fields

Blood Angels Sirus Amah x Moonlight Your Blood is like Heaven to me The right shade of red

Iron Hands Vauth Marlos Marlos Vauth x Byte Automat Ozone Logic Bomb (Bispecsual)

World Eaters Zul Gospod x Spaseniye Peace of Mind

Ultramarines Tulio Sydo x Psychi/Psychoula Courage and Honor A Nymph by the river Just under the skin Gift from thevoidscreams Thundering call Clothes stealing pregnancy edition Jealous Tulio Loyalty Swap: Superbeast

Death Guard Solos Phorgur the Reaper x Lovie Toxic Love

Thousand Sons Nakht Rhan x Birdie Bye Bye Birdie

Black Legion/Luna Wolves Zhur Painbane x Dolli Quest Glaubenskraft (DD:DNE Rape) Early morning sex

Garviel Loken x ??? ???

Word Bearers Jihias Kinreaver x Lamb Sacrament of Sin

Salamanders Nubin Orenn x Bev To'ken Aishite Aishite Aishite (DD:DNE Incestous Language) Aishite Aishite Aishite (alternative)

??? Tears of a Dragonheart

Raven Guard Sor Delyn/Kazi Delax/Moremo Klaek x Dove Just Let us Adore You Love You Like a Love Song What if Dove was nervous

Alpha Legion Keeper Alpharius? x Vixen Skyfall You know my Name

Black Templars Brother Roland Lichtner x Bäckerin Venom of Venus Rein Raus Bun in the Oven Du riechst so gut Roland Penance Reaction to Backerin being pregnant

Carcaradons Tyberos the Red Wake x Ophelia The Red Tithe

Crimson Fist Pedro Kantor x ???

Astral Claws/Red Corsairs Huron Blackheart x ???

Mechanicus 91-Yrac x H3X/sweetspark The Savant

Adeptus Custodes Initial thoughts Golden Palace of the Dead

Constantin Valdor x Shard of the Emperor (Female) Sickeningly Sweet

Adonis x Smoothie To Fry an Egg

General/Multiple Boys The boys and their darlings Pheromone Spray 1 2 Bonus Zul Spray First Kiss 1 2 3 Song Inspirations Baseline hitting on darlings The boys and period darling Roland and Tulio The boys and hugs

[sculptorofcrimson]

Down With His Throne

Synopsis: Traitor Valdor, and his endless hunt. His endless hate, for the Shards of his master. Relations: Aquilans x f! Shard A/N: Essentially traitor Valdor trying to kill the Shard, and his musings on his loathing of all Shards of his master.

They know better by now than to let him go.

They know he feeds from fear. Whose fear? Theirs? No, the Custodes do not fear. From Him. From the tip of the Apollonian Spear.

He hates them. He loathes them. He loathes those that wear his master's face like a crown, bearing His resemblance, bearing His glory. Does He not belong to him? Does his glorious servant not have the right to His bones, when there is nothing left of Him? Why should he not reclaim what is rightfully his, rightfully meant for the greatest of the Ten Thousand, why should some pitiable, worthless mortal earn what should have been granted to him? To him to safeguard, to protect, and to fervently worship?

Siphoning memories blow by blow, if only to tear out the last shreds of his lord's sharded soul, if only to drink up His cries and hear 'Oh, Constantin' one last time, even if it's spoken in rage and pain instead of in praise, even if it leaves him broken and aching and so utterly alone afterwards, even if it leaves the traitor that was Valdor wallowing in the misery of his own betrayal. 

Sometimes he kills them in the middle of a life, in the middle of a laugh, a cry, or a sob. He kills them in the middle of being human, a sniper's bullet through the skull or a sudden poison leaked into their goblet. The greatest of the Emperor's assassins, having gone against his vows. Quick deaths never grant him many memories. He never feels alive after those, but he also never feels pain from a quick kill. In the scant moments he feels human, the weight of his betrayal finally sinks in and he knows despair, he knows pain and hate and vicious denial until the obsessions and the heartlessness sinks in again and he feels nothing at all, not even despair at what he had become.

It was Horus' poisoned gift to him. The Archtraitor's greatest and final laugh. Enough mind to be human, yet not enough to care.

His brothers will try to stop him. Sometimes they almost succeed. Havadur Csarthal. That fool. He saved her, the seventh shard, he dove in front of the Apollonian Spear's blade and held Valdor down with the dying remnants of his corpse as the Emperor's newest incarnation fled from his blade, he had gazed Death in the eye and spat in its face. He had refused to scream as the Apollonian Spear flayed him skin from flesh, slow and deathly quiet, refusing to cry out and bring more brothers to the same site of his death even when he could see the red glimmers of their eye lens, even when he knew if he screamed, they would undoubtedly dive down and try to save him. And so he had refused to even cry out as he was bled by a thousand small nicks of the Apollonian blade, he refused to scream as Valdor tore every last shred of a life from his mind and drank up the ragged humanity remaining in his marrow. He had saved his charge, he had saved her for the price of himself and the price of dying a slow, ignoble death without even pity, and it was enough. For an Aquilan Shield that sacrificed himself, it was enough.

He was the first of many Aquilans.

The Siegebreaker, the Traitor Captain, the First of the Custodes, he had done his utmost to make sure Csarthal died a heartless, ignoble, merciless death. That he died, worthless, screaming into the hollow void. He turned his grave into a traitor, he made sure his name would be remembered with nothing but scorn and loathing, he made sure to betray his name in death as he had never betrayed in life. Scorned, loathed, shunned for consorting with the First of the Ten Thousand, one of the many Custodes who stood idly by as he lowered the blade. Havadur Csarthal would be remembered with no more kindness than the Companions that had still bowed, reverent, obedient, when he had first betrayed them all, when he had lowered the walls and shields of the Imperial Palace and broke the Siege of Terra with traitor hands. When he alone had broken the Palace's walls, and welcomed in Horus' hordes.

His sacrifice had robbed Valdor of his kill. He will bleed all traces of honor from his death. No light, no rest, and no mercy. The Custodes will remember him as nothing but an incompetent fool, without a single trace of success, dying a voiceless demise at a traitor's hand. And should she ever call out in disgrace, swearing her bodyguard had died to save her, the shard would have to break the vow of silence her beloved Aquilan had died to maintain.

If he still had the ability to enjoy such cruel ironies, he would have smiled at such bitter humor. It was their ugly secret, between him and her alone, known to them both how he had truly died, but if she wished to tell the golden the truth, he would know. He would know she had lived after all, and the golden would hunt her down, both the Traitor and his loyal brothers, they would hunt her down and this time he would be truly sure that Csarthal Havadur's sacrifice had meant nothing. Nothing at all. 

He believed that one shard would live, sneaking away onto an Agriworld where she had cast away her laurels and lived quietly. She would fall in love with a Commissar, and pass away peacefully in her sleep at the ripe age of three hundred and seventy two, surrounded by her great-grandchildren. 

That secret had died with her. Only he knew, and as of his words, none would tell. None would see the scar Havadur had clawed into his back, none would hear how he had roared as the Aquilan clung on with a dying man's embrace and screamed at his charge to run, to run from the beast that was once a glorious captain. To run, and never once look back upon them both. None would know he had died resolutely, without even uttering a scream, as the Apollonian Spear wrenched free from soft tissues and tangled bones, its edge now dull from hacking through auramite. 

In the grand scheme of things, Aquilan's sacrifice had truly meant nothing. Nothing at all.

But sometimes they would fail to stop him. 

Sometimes he would catch one alone, away from their bodyguards, away from their guns and their knives and their spears. He could lure them away, with such cold, cold determination, Apollonian Spear swinging, ticking, pawing at the earth beneath his feet like a pendulum as he waits, and wanders, waiting for the shard to fall. The spear blade occasionally dipping, accidentally slicing through the ragged silk of his tabard or through the chains wandering over his armor, nicking his armor just enough to reawaken images of the previous owners of his auramite, just enough to dream of the past before the blade swings back, waiting, waiting. Waiting for them to stumble, stagger, finally tumbling to a halt. Watching that beautiful, golden light of his lord's reincarnation finally die out, that love of humanity stamped to ash and bone when they realize the Aquilans can't save them. When they call out, and hear nothing back. 

Those ones die in languish silence, without even a word. Dying thinking they were betrayed, dying entombed on a throne, thinking they were never truly loved enough. Thinking they were abandoned, left to die by the Aquilans when the Yellow King caught them in his grasp, dying in his arms as he drank and tore the memories of his master from their bones. The cold, almost joyous revelation from each sip of his lord's memories he steals, dreaming of Him through His corpse, sinking in His love, if only for a moment, if only for a sweet, addictive taste of ichor leaking from a single shard's broken corpse. Just enough to keep him dreaming, make him feel human for once, before it is gone and the last light of his lord trickles away from truly shattered remnants and he casts them aside, wandering on, always moving, never returning. 

Always onto the next one, with just enough madness left in him to head on to the next, and the next, and the next. It is the hunt that must never end, the thirst that will never be quenched. The True Blood Games, played out through an arena without walls and without boundaries, where the only prize was his master's skull, cracked open and leaking time over his bloodstained palms. Lapping up the dregs of His dreams, inhaling His humanity and His love, basking in His stolen radiance before it fades and he digs deeper, slices further, bleeds the shards more and more just for a taste of His dream. Just for a little more, a little more of His love that the fallen captain will never feel again.

Sometimes they sacrifice themselves. Sometimes, they die meaningless, worthless deaths. Sacrificing themselves in a vain illusion of glory. Valdor crushed those ones down, cutting into them with no less steel than if they were lambs. Sometimes, he whispers the true uselessness of their sacrifice in their ear when he sinks in the Apollonian Spear and drinks in the tattered soul-weave of his master. He speaks to them of how he lied to them, how he promised to spare so and so if they would surrender. How he promised, but how he lied, how he had no concept of honor and no concept of denial, and when they finally perished, he shall have no concept of honor either. They sacrificed themselves, they died, and it was worth nothing in the end. Not even a few seconds of respite from his blade.

And sometimes the shards don't even die. He cripples them, he leaches perfection from their bones, he strips away the very core that had His essence intertwined, and leaves the broken, rotting mess behind. Unable to walk, to move, to even weep, stripped away of all that made them live. A husk, without even a soul, or a mind, or a memory. No past, no future, just a silent, sobbing ghost, broken so utterly beyond repair. The living dead, haunting the Aquilans. A corpse staring them in the eye and begging for death, a mewling corpse with their heart torn out and crushed beneath golden boots, just like what He did to him. Just like how He took his dreams and crushed them, and now he shall deal unto His shards as He has dealt upon him. How he tears out their core and laps up the fragments of the Emperor, and leaves nothing but ghosts behind.

Nothing. Nothing left of him now. Not even enough left to hate.

When the rush of exultation fades, it leaves nothing behind. Not even a shallow pain, not even a sorrowful keening, simply an voracious ache, a hollow so empty not even despair could fill it. It was the cries of a long-broken heart finally imploding under its own weight, crying out for justice and finding nothing back. It was a body built to be loved by a god, built to throw itself on the altar of sacrifice, now starved of the one thing that had made its life worth living. When the once-doting hand had turned striking, when he could no longer lap adoration from the hand of his king, he learned to lick it off of His fingerbones. He learned to chew it off of the scraps of His skin and gnaw open marrow for the scraps of His essence, for the split, scant moments of joy, of purpose, in a life devoid of all else. When He had starved him of all that had made him worth existing in the first place, what else was there but to scrabble uselessly, to tear away dregs of His dream, just for the split moment of being loved? Of feeling loyal, even once, when you know you have betrayed Him beyond even death itself?

He had betrayed the Emperor once. He will do so again. 

Sometimes, he can actually lure them away. The eight shard fell to deception. Promise him so sweetly that he'll seek redemption, promise him that His favored servant surely couldn't leave Him forever? Surely he'll see the light, if only he'll let him in, if only he'll promise not to scream, if only he'll promise to take him in like he had taken in the Custodes.

He should have known better than to trust a traitor.

The only rewards of tolerance are treachery and betrayal.

He had betrayed the Emperor once. He will do so again. 

When he cleans the Apollonian Spear from the splatters of the shard, when he sinks deeper into that reverie of Emperor-laden memories torn from the shard, he can almost feel a smidgen of regret for what he had become. For taking all he could from a naive, innocent man and laying him to death for the soul of a man he loved(no, hated?). For a sin he both loathed and adored and was so utterly loyal to, for the Emperor tore out his ability to hate His abuse. For the pain he adored to damnation, for the sin, for the brief high of being in His love. He had loved him, yes? He had loved him, but it wasn't enough, it is never enough, the shards must bleed, they can only bleed, it's their only gift to die before the Apollonian Spear and feed the mind of an assassin that killed for love, and killed because he hated. They were his master, they were his master once upon a time, but he cannot let them live. He cannot let them be, he cannot spare them from the Apollonian edge, when all he feels is sanctity whenever he butchers them back to the grave His lord resides.

'Oh, Constantin.' he hears Him sigh. 'Look at how far you've fallen.'

~~~

The Aquilans despaired after the last death. They had deluded themselves into thinking she would be different, that the boy that had naively trusted the monster the first time was a mistake.

It was not.

It was the Order's eleventh loss by then. A blow to their morale, and a blow to their pride. The Emperor had died before Horus. His remnants had died before His own captain. They curse his name, they curse his spear, they curse his stitched-together-armor built from the raiments of his brothers, but most of all, they curse themselves for failing Him again. And again. And again, as the monster clad in scraped-together auramite kills them again and again, always with cold, swift zeal, without err, and without deviation. He never lets them live. He cannot let them live. There is no respite, no mercy and no rest. For those that caught the rage of his eye, there is only death.

They stand in meaningless, sullen vigils. Shield-Captain Lehievin, the Leviathan of Terra, only watchers over their latest charge's grave with an ashen face and a grim scowl. The failed bodyguards rustle in quiet, aimless rituals, dropping flowers over the upturned dirt, draping veils over her portraits, burying the bloodstained laurel with infinite reverence. Their cloaks, when they turn, are full of tears. It would have been kinder if they had lamented. It would have been crueler if they had sobbed and screamed and lashed out at one another for their failure. Anything but the silent penitence they face, tears coating immaculate auramite, giant golden gauntlets carefully scooping out the dirt and replacing it over the new grave. Knowing the monster is listening to their cries, knowing the monster is reveling(or at least as close as he can to revel) in their charge's death. Knowing he will kill again, unrestrained, unchained. 

And knowing their next charge would end much the same.

'Shield-Captain.' Magtanggol bows his head. Lehievin barely turns to greet him. 'Shield-Captain.' he tries again, and Lehievin shakes his head in an irate motion, finally jerking around to meet him.

'Speak.'

'The next shard is predicted to be in the Sol system already, Shield-Captain. We will have to move fast to intercept her.'

Lehievin considers the news with no grand expression. The corpse was barely cold in its grave, and yet now the Monster was already trying to set his rifle's sights on the next.

'When?' he finally responds.

'Another twelve years. Long enough for her aging to finally noticeably stop, and around the time the first...mutations of His begin to occur. We will have to deploy rapidly, before he settles into the adjacent systems. We will have to conceal all evidence she had ever been at all.'

'And the Captain?'

Magtanggol smiles cruelly. His handsome features, as sharp and as weathered as marble statues, were highlighted by the gaunt grimace of his smile. 'He won't know. Not if we obscure the paranormal occurrences this time too.'

Lehievin considers this for a moment. He heaves a sigh before replying.

'It is rare,' he begins. 'when a charge re-appears before even a century has passed.'

'Her death was particularly swift. A single bolterround through the next. The Apollonian Spear's wounds were not numerous. I suspect he did not have enough time to...erase and eradicate all traces of our lord from the corpse before we descended upon him. Our lord's essence may have fled. Departed for a better host, shall we say.'

'Departed...' Lehievin murmurs. 'It is such an ugly word.'

'As I agree, Shield-Captain.'

'And how sure are you about this news?'

'Quite. The Astropathic signals match.'

'You do know that so close to our current system, the Captain will likely have prepared for this, yes?'

Magtanggol smiles humorlessly. This time, there were teeth in that grin. 'Oh. Yes. Certainly. But we have no option but to try, do we not? We still have time. He doesn't know yet. Our communications take time to run, even for the Custodes, and even if he intercepts us now, we will reach her much swifter than he can dream of. And besides. Do you see another option, Shield-Captain? A single alternative, but to endure?'

Did they truly have no option, but to hope, to grasp, and to endure? Yes, they truly didn't.

Lehievin looks away, leaning heavily against his guardian spear. For a moment he looked like an old man with a crutch, wistfully looking into the sunset and wishing he was a young man again, when oceans were still unburnt and brothers yet unbetrayed. Finally, he snarls one last time at the grave. His fingers close tightly upon the spear's haft as he whips around to face his lieutenant.

'Very well, Magtanggol.' Lehievin returns Magtanggol' grin with a soft, yet surprisingly bitter, smile. 'We deploy at dusk. Notify the Aquilan Shield Captain-Commander. We have found our second charge. The Shield-Company will not let Him die.'

No. Never. Never again.

Because, in truth, what other choice did they have, but to hope, to beg, and to fight against the inevitable?

[gallifreyianrosearkytiorsusan]

Spins Around, Around, Around

Prologue =-= Next

Author's note: Alpharius in Husbandry

Warnings: Let me know if I need to add more.

Summary: He muses on the state of things.

Tagged: @barn-anon, @bleedingichorhearts, @c-u-c-koo-4-40k, @egrets-not-regrets, @kit-williams,

Tagged continued: @sleepyfan-blog, @whorety-k

Alpharius is in his guise as 'Zariel' the Ultramarine Apothecary. In order to have that guise he has to be a trained Apothecary. Ultramarines could be pedantic, rules-lawyer, Codex-thumping shit heads who could count the smallest of grains into the trillions of they were in a mood to be that excruciatingly exacting if they chose to. And he's seen them do something similar, which could be terribly interesting, until it got very, very boring.

He'd heard about the Primaris Marines, an interesting concept, and he wonders what had pushed the Imperium to design a newer version of the Astartes program that such a thing was needed. Likely nothing good if they needed faster, stronger, supposedly smarter, harder version of the Space Marine.

He's tried to meet the few that are on base, but they seemed like a terribly skittish bunch, and there were only a few of them, merely a handful in this part of Ancient Terra's hemisphere. So new and rare a model of Marine. There was a great fuss when one of the other Primaris came in with the winged blessing of the Ninth Primarch, one that is so rarely granted to a Blood Angel, or one of the successor chapters.

Or so he's learned from his brothers that were in other locations to learn of such things from their stubbornly closed mouthed cousins. The… fervor of some of the Blood Angels to wanting to meet young Jophiel… raised flags to 'Zariel' and some of the brothers that were imbedded with the Blood Angels and their Successor Chapters.

So they did their best to ensure that a meeting, planned or 'planned' wouldn't take place, as best they can with the contrary shits that are their cousins at times. Besides, the youngster preferred not to meet any First Born Blood Angels especially.

Which spoke of a… Concern, also what he's managed to gather, and this has him shaking his head, how foolish and shorted sighted their brothers in the future could be with the Primaris Marines and how they handled and reacted to them was dangerously dumb.

But- there were… opportunities to be had, contacts to make, and plans to coil and loop and pull them deeper into things if they played their cards right. He just doesn't know what he did to make the Primaris so skittish when he hasn't been able to properly introduce himself to them as 'Zariel the Apothecary'.

Which, he was supposed to have the Black Templar Apothecary Scout on the same rotation as him and do some mentoring of the lad, but he'd chosen to work with Hura of all Chaos Apothecary Space Marines over him. Which almost felt insulting, Hura could be… indulgent at times, and is well known for being patient, and slowly lures in his prey with the slow, persistent hunt of one who knows that he will get what he wants in the end, no matter how long he has to wait.

It's impressive, even if its annoying to deal with and makes it so that the Chaos Marine Apothecary accidentally side steps the less subtle ploys and plays of the Alpha Legion. But the Alpha legion are always very fluid and flexible, willing to change and alter their plans accordingly.

They just need to recalculate and got at it a different way, with an different method. No one escapes the Hydra. No one avoids their notice or gaze, it is the Hydra who monitor things and ensures that certain… Issues aren't noticed by the Public at large, be it Astartes, Custodes, and Human, especially the base line humans of Ancient Terra.

They have spies everywhere, including in those ridiculous 'Human First' cults, and all other cults that have popped up with the advent of the Marines landing here, as well as the cults that were here before they'd shown up. There is a wealth of information that they have gathered and continue to gather.

Black Templars- the fools that they are, and how they try to break the bonds, unless it is… Intense, and even those it depends on the individual and what they become and who they are that is some of the deciding factors on if Death is preferrable to being near a human. Honestly, Sons of Dorn could be so dramatic at times, despite how Stoic and Calm they pretend to be.

Melodramatic sword swinging Zealots the lot of them. Ugh. It gives him a headache just thinking about dealing with their Feral Warbands or 'crusades' as they prefer. The jokes on them, they will not be called a Crusade, because they are feral, spiteful gremlins that have the utter audacity to be Unpredictable, in ways that the Alpha legion almost can't handle.

It is Almost, because the Alpha legion are the best Legion, at what they do and how the can manipulate those around them. Further weaving the webs of lies and manipulating the hatreds and the ways other perceive things so that the webs are suited and perfectly fit for their schemes.

By understanding all that they could, was the Alpha Legion able to stay ahead of everyone else and not be caught off guard, or at least not as badly as the other legions could be. Monitoring Custodes was both more and less difficult. They are Damned Big, Shiny and Gold, people notice when they are nearby, they break whatever Warp-veil there is far quicker, more often, and easily than even the most chaos-twisted of the Marines.

Which is… interesting and something that they monitor. Infrequently, because they really don't want to garner the notice of the Custodes that are on Terra, as few as there are because of how much more brutal and lethal they tend to be… especially if their during and post Heresy. High Handed fuckers think that they are so much better than everyone else. And… well, no one smart would argue against that, even if the truth is more complicated than it first appears in the beginning.

[adeptvsastartes]

If you could either change one event in the past or guarantee one opportunity in the future, which would you choose?

(any muse(s) you want to answer with!)

Another ghost taunting him in the Warp. Expected. Valdor marched through the realms of Chaos without issue-- golden armor, weathered and worn and covered in gibs or dirt or blood. His eyes long since lost their determined sheen, only hollowness remaining in his gaze. His grip tightened on his spear. How many years had he been looking for the Emperor's lost shard? His true name? A thousand years? Two thousand? No, surely more, surely FAR more. Constantin Valdor had searched for the Emperor for so many years, they all blurred, and he lost count over how much time passed. It was to the point he adapted to the Warp, learning of it-- using cults to learn Enuncia, studying cloning, advancing, while he endlessly searched for the one man he would dedicate his life to.

" If I could change one thing, " Valdor spoke absentmindedly, as if this were an automatic response, one he'd grown so accustomed to saying that he just started responding to things like this over and over and over again, " it would be stopping the Emperor from making the Primarchs. "

" I failed Him by not telling Him. " Valdor grunted out, readying his spear as it crackled with energy, eyes staring down the next daemon in his path as if it were but an annoyance. He swung his spear, cleanly cleaving through the horrid spawn and sending more ichor across the ground and his armor. He was going further into the Warp. Another sight of a mangled soul whispering to him, I am Kalak the Blood-Gorger.

" I failed Him by letting him continue. It was my duty as His spear to protect Him. I knew the Primarchs would be nothing but trouble. I knew they would doom us all. And yet... "

" I stood by. Because it made Him happy to create them, beings who could truly talk to Him, have conversations, live as long as He could. They were not genecrafted with loyalty like myself or the Custodes were. He could debate with them. He could love them. I suppose, in some ways, I failed Him, because I could not compare to such aspects-- yet I once thought myself better than His sons. I am a loyal warrior, His servant. "

As Constantin said those words, he slowed and tilted his head back to look up at the churning blood-red skies of Khorne's domain. Exhaustion overtook his body, leaving him weak. He did not stop... for ten thousand years, he just never stopped. His knees finally buckled, and he dropped to his knees. He was so tired... When the Captain-General tried to look at the soul that asked him this question... they were gone.

" Oh... Emperor... "

" ... please... Let me find You. Your name. To free You of Your curse. " So then I could free myself of mine.

[minweber]

Musings on Custodes: Assorted Headcanons

Decided to get together some of the stuff that's been rattling around in my head for a while and which doesn't seem significant enough for a topic of its own. As usual, everything presented here is basically just my headcanons for Custodes, only some of which are supported, to varying degrees, by current lore:

Custodes don't communicate with each other in combat - as in, fight and perform complicated group maneuvers without talking to each other. This is barely a speculation, because the codex straight up says that they fight silently. There, however, it is used mostly to denote that they don't have a battlecry, and they do also use Thoughtmark, so can still very much communicate while staying silent. I think it would be very cool and fitting to push it further, and take it to mean that they actually don't communicate, as in don't pass any information to each other in battle. Instead, whenever they fight as a group, each of them just knows what each of them should do, and has an absolute certainty that everyone will do their part, perfection in all things and all that. They essentially operate like a reverse hive mind, with each individual thinking for every member of the group, and it all always syncing up through the magic of Posthuman Big Brains. It is very silly, but the exact kind of Dune-like super brain powers that 40k in general seems to find so irresistible.

Custodes despise the Minotaurs - like, as much as they can despise someone who is not an actual traitor... Maybe a bit a more. Have you ever noticed how High Lords of Terra, the mighty rulers of the Imperium of Man, are not in full control of the very world from which they rule? How there is an incredibly powerful military force, over which they can exert exactly zero influence, always lurking around their seat of power? And how they seem to have created for themselves an army spear-wielding superhumans with a hellenistic motif, armored in red and... bronze? Yeah, I have no idea how intentional this was on part of writers of old Imperial Armour, but Minotaurs are 100% poor man's (lord's?) Custodes, made to imitate control over something that was forever beyond their creators' reach. And I do oh so believe that Custodes themselves would see it, and man oh man would that grind their nuts. They aren't keen on Astartes in general, and the ones that are essentially parodies of them, bound in service to those they would certainly consider lesser men? Oooh, superhuman patience or no, there would be salt.

Most custodians are what we would call some variation of aroace - this one is a full on headcanon of mine, based on nothing save my quixotic quest for depiction of warhammer posthumans that is more than just "very smart and very scary when angry". Whenever we talk about "more evolved human beings" in sci-fi context (I genuinely hope that my slight obsession with this topic is viewed solely within it), it is worth remembering that evolution is not like, a scale. Nothing is just "overall better" than anything else, it is all about adaptation to circumstance and environment. So too custodians are not simply "humans, but better" - they are shaped specifically for their role as Emperor's companions. Which, I think, would have interesting effects on those parts of them that lie outside this purpose - like experiencing attraction very differently from most humans. Here I should hurry to add that I am using the term aroace incredibly broadly, more as a closest available analogue to something that maybe doesn't exist in observable human experience, rather than in all of its defined nuance. But yeah, I like to imagine that a lot of them don't experience romantic and sexual attraction at all, their brains and body chemistry just not wired for it anymore, and those that do, do so in ways that may be alien to us. For example - being more detached about it, their feelings blending the line between emotional and intellectual, their love or lust less... visceral than ours can be? Something that is not more or less, but instead just different.

They do not idolize the Emperor, and may actually be pretty critical of him - Wait, stop, I can explain! Yeah, we begin to really veer off now - but I do so love characterization rooted deeply in contradiction. I don't challenge the idea that they are unflinchingly, mind-numbingly loyal to him and would commit any heinous crime on his word. But I also like to imagine them having the same sort of "predisposed towards the same personality traits and flaws" thing that Astartes have with their primarchs. Having their unique personalities all grow around the same powerful inherited core. Basically, they all see him in themselves - and if they thought that he was infallible, then... Well, it's not as interesting as the opposite, is it? What if instead they see him as a deeply flawed figure, and see those flaws reflected in them, but at the same time are too much like him to admit either? Isn't it delicious - to be able to see how deeply flawed and toxic are the ideals that you follow, and yet be shaped by them to such an extent that you cannot help but desperately chase them?

Kind of flowing logically from the previous two - Custodes are capable of experiencing attraction, but never to each other. It's just all too easy for them to see all the parts of him, of themselves, that they don't like in others of their kind. In fact, maybe this goes beyond attraction - maybe this is the reason that they have trouble truly working together and trusting one another?

[roxiearts]

so I redesigned some of my old ocs from a fandom I really like. And revamped them in a way. I sadly couldn't give them poses because I have on and off art block rn but i still wanted to draw them so I do apologise if they all have a lack of poses. So with my revamped old fandom ocs I'm going to give you some lore with them. Only three ocs has poses in

Tw/cw: brief mentions of kidnapping, child death, war, murder, arranged marriage and heavy implied manipulation.

Note: Yeah these are backrooms ocs with a whole lore to them. The backgrounds I used isn't my photos I found them on the Internet. There are two backgrounds I did draw.

anyways onto the lore.

The titans and the musesA group of immortal entities that are seen to be gods and goddesses of a group of people called "The Homines of mater terra's custodes" which roughly translated to "The people of Mother earth's guardians." No one knows what happened to this group but there are lucky some stories about them. So far we only know about a few entities they worshipped. We are just going to call them "Titans and Muses" as what these ancient people used to call them is unknown.

First god and goddess we found was Atticus and Penelope. The titan of greed and the muse of nature.

Atticus (left):

Atticus was said to be born out of the wrath of a war between two kingdoms trying to take each other over for their own greed. This greed in this bloody war caused him to be born. He laughed at the humans thinking they were pathetic over something like a kingdom. These kingdoms wasn't satisfying his greed.

He summoned the two greedy Kings to him, he claimed there is so much better than their kingdoms. He told them he knows there is worlds outside of this world and all thar power in those worlds was much satisfying to him.

The two kings were scared of this demon in front of them, they dropped the war and helped him trying to find these "worlds" that was satisfying his greed. If this was successful is still up in the air.

Penelope, the muse of nature (right):

Penelope was born from the tears of a mother who losted her 6 year old daughter to the lack of food in the cold winter.

Penelope grew up with the human mother, she sang songs for humans and monsters like. Being a light for peace between the two kinds. She was loved by the village and monsters alike. She was a symbol of hope. She grew food for both humans and monsters.

As she got older, Her blooming self and beauty attracted many suitors including Atticus.

Atticus and Penelope's meeting:

Penelope was rejecting many human suitors, she claimed she wanted to be unmarried for life. She butted into Atticus when he was visiting the village to trigger the monsters bloodlust once again as he didn't like how they were acting friendy to the humans.

Penelope apologised to Atticus, he tool one look at the young woman and he found the cause of this peace of humans and monsters. He also found an attraction to her, he wanted her for himself. This attraction was unhealthy and he didn’t see her as a human being but a object to desire. He wanted her to be his bride, his wife forever.

He knew her mother would never accept him marrying her daughter. So he came to a plan, he decided to kill her mother and kidnap Penelope. And that what he did. He made it look like Penelope's mother was killed by a monster which caused suspicious between humans and monsters. He kept Penelope in his realm for 10 years, breaking her mind. Soon she agreed to marry him, they soon got married.

Soon Penelope fell pregnant, her labour lasted for 28 hours, her screaming caused sounds that monsters and other ancient gods that might be around to hear. Soon she gave birth to twins. Angelette and Atlas.

Atlas:

Altas is the older twin, his form was human but his face was black out with multiple eyes. This believed because of his father's evil against his mother caused problems with her pregnancy.

He could talk still but its unclear how. He was titan of all seeing. Due his multiple eyes could see different places in his realm. He took his father's throne after he imprisoned his father for his sins against his mother and his never ending greed.

Altas never married or had any children but he did have multiple lovers. Both male and female.

Angelette:

Angelette or "The Angel" is the youngest twin. She was the muse of the light.

She was a protector of monsters. She was a peace maker between humans and monsters. Just like her mother. She said to visit other gods and goddesses for advice because she didn't want to disappointed her people and monsters she needed to protect.

She was untrusting of some humans. Only the humans who attacked or killed monsters for no reason. She was a holy goddess, she was pure and virgin until marriage. She was loyal to her friends and her people. She did marry a titan and had kids with him.

Her husband was Ezekiel, the titan of monsters.

Ezekiel was born of the wrath of the monsters, he grew up with multiple monsters. He soon came a leader to them, a king of sorts.

Later down his life, Ezekiel heard that was a virgin goddess. Singing to other gods and goddesses, monsters and humans all around the world.

He quickly followed Angelette's melodies. He laid eyes on her and he quickly fell in love with her. He decided to meet her after the show. He tried to impress her and she seemed impressed. He quickly popped the question after one day of knowing her and she was surprised but turned him down but she was interested of knowing.And soon they got married and five kids.

Kaia:

Kaia was the oldest of the children of Ezekiel and Angelette. They were the muse of the sea, she was a eel like humanoid. She was called sea witch by outsiders because she lured humans into the sea when they harmed another human in some way. She was a siren with the lures, singing them to the sea.

There isn't much about them besides they would sometimes appeared male and other times she appeared female.

Lucia:

Lucia was the second child of Ezekiel and Angelette. Lucia was the muse of desire and love. Lucia was a goddess with many lovers, mostly male lovers. There was a lover she was obsessed with.

His name was Eli, there is no surviving images of Eli. From we know, he was a human man from medieval Europe and a Knight. He was a brave warrior with amazing skills.

He came across Lucia when she was bathing in the rivers of the garden of her kingdom. She was scared of Eli at first. She hasn't seen anyone in armour before.

He took off his helmet, he smiles at her. She smiles back at him. He fell love with her, with her songs and dancing. Lucia used to sing songs like her mother to different people, monsters and other gods. She dances for them too. Eli would dance with Lucia, every night under the moonlight.

Lucia attached many suitors because of her beauty. But her heart belonged to Eli.

A man was jealous of Eli, his name was Caesar. A man of noble family he was. Even he came from a noble family, there is no imagines of him so far.Caesar wanted to marry Lucia. So Caesar killed Eli while he was sleeping. Lucia found out and she killed him in a blinded rage. Lucia was heartbroken of Eli's death. She disappeared shortly after Eli's death.

Helena:

She was lived in the same castle as Lucia. She was a joyful goddess. Treating her servants with kindness and making them smile. However she was blind at birth but it didn't stop her from bringing joy to everyone! But after Eli's death and Lucia's disappearance. She took the throne to keep her sister's kingdom safe.

Isolde:

Isolde was the fouth child of Ezekiel and Angelette. Isolde was the muse of winter. Due to her ice powers.

She was scared of hurting her siblings, she created a realm for herself. That was filled of snow and ice. There isn't alot about her due she was keep to herself kinda of character.

Achilleus:

Achilleus was the last child of Ezekiel and Angelette. He was very close to his sister, Lucia. People said they looked like twins. Due that he looked similar to his sister, Lucia.

He was the titan of riches. He was loyal and wise man. Giving advice for unfortunate souls. Soon after Lucia's disappearance, he changed. He wanted his pictures to kept hidden. He said he went off to find his sister. He hasn't returned to the kingdom ever since.

Okay, there are entities we do know that isn't related to Atticus and Penelope nor are their children or grandchildren.

Evangeline:

Evangeline, the muse of worlds and future. She was a overseer and protector of worlds. Its unclear what worlds she was overseeing and protecting. It was mostly worlds her father looked after.

She was born into the world, around the same time as Angelette and Atlas. Her mother was a mortal woman while her father was a god. Sadly her mother couldn't take the godly powers of her newborn daughter and sadly passed away soon after Evangeline's birth.

She was given the crystal of prophecies by her father. She became more wiser and stronger. The only side affect was that she would see so many visions of the future, both harmless and traumatising she started to have nightmares from the traumatising visions and getting headaches from them.

So she decided to put a blindfold over her eyes to calm these visions. She only takes it off for a vision when she needs too. Sadly her father disappeared, so she had to take his place. She was already struggling with this intrusive visions, she wonders how can she live up to her father's legacy?

A 100 years later, she met a human man. She approached him and asked his name? He told her his name was "Linus". Sadly there isn't any images of Linus. Linus soon started a friendship with Evangeline. That came romantic. It's unclear if they married in private or not. Or it just a romantic relationship with no marriage.

Its unknown what happened to Linus but Evangeline changed, She decided to stay in hiding for centuries so she could focus on her work or that what she told her people when she left.

Horace:

Horace was the titan of worlds, he was a goofy god when he was around Penelope and his other friends. A man of great wise and kindness, he took care of everyone he could. Sadly there isn't any images yet of him.

At some point, Horace fell in love with a mortal woman named "Cressida". They soon married and had Evangeline.

We don't know what happened to him, we only know that he disappeared.

Edith:

Edith is the older twin and the first born daughter of Evangeline and Linus. She is. the muse of destiny. She is the only closest goddess we have to the titans and Muses. She is still active along side her sister while the others of this group are a mystery of what happened to them. She is a helpful young lady, even though she is probably 100 years old or more.

There isn't alot we know about her, because it wasn't long ago when we met her and her sister.

Evelyn:

Evelyn is the youngest twin and last born of Evangeline and Linus. She is the muse of protection. She is quite helpful around humans. However she quite immature and childish at times, lucky Edith is there to keep her in check. Again, There isn't alot we know about her, because it wasn't long ago when we met her and her sister. That's all for now...

[askthecustodes]

Watching

Another self indulgent drabble, this time Arturia as an Eye of the Emperor, now posing as a Lord Inquisitor, and Valdor making his way back to Terra.

‘So little has changed,’ he mused. The massive space station took up most of the viewport in front of him, almost blotting out the planet behind it. Towering spires reached out into the void, while buttresses punctuated the latticed windows and ship docking ports. Zipping among the towers were smaller vessels. He had watched many such stations built in his time.

‘And yet, so much.’ 

Behind him was the hiss of doors opening and the quiet tap of slippered feet. “Lord Valdor. My mistress requests your presence.”

“The Lord Inquisitor.” The Custodian turned from the vaulted window to face the adept. 

“Yes, my lord.” The young woman straightened from her deep bow. She at most had seen twenty rotations, likely born in the void by how unnaturally tall and willowy she was. She turned on her heel. Her long strides were almost a casual stroll for him, but he remained several meters behind her. He had already explored the bulk of the major compartments while in warp space, avoiding the clerics and other fanatics who wanted to question or worship him in equal measure. With his escort, none dared approach, but he was not ignorant to the number who fell to their knees in praise to the God Emperor simply at the sight of him. The adept wound her way through the maze of hallways and lifts to bring them to the great hall before the forward bridge. Vaulted windows lined either side, the winking of stars or the flutter of station lights causing the pillars to cast long shadows.

“Annefrae.” A soft voice came from beside a pillar they almost passed. The adept startled, her head whipping around to find the source. Constantin couldn’t blame her- he hadn’t spotted the hooded figure either.

“My Lady!” She bowed deep. “Lord Valdor, as requested.”

“Thank you, Annefrae. You may go.” The Lord Inquisitor looked back the way they had come. Annefrae nodded, sparing a wide eyed glance for the Captain General before her quick footfalls faded away down the hall. Constantin paid her no heed, his attention focused now on the hooded figure. Little was visible between the deep hood and a half mask covering the bottom of her face. The rosette that hung around her neck was- as he had come to learn from the Interrogator he had commandeered the vessel from- the symbol of her office and authority. A stylized strygis bird skull adorned the center of it, and lightning framed the center. Between the long strips of fabric wound around her forearms and calves, and the shadow of her caplet, it seemed the bird skull was appropriate.

“You must be the Lord Inquisitor.” Constantin’s head tipped to one side, the plume of his helmet swaying.

“My retinue tells me you call yourself Constantin Valdor.”

“Indeed.”

He could feel her gaze rake up and down him, even if her head did not seem to move. “... And you fashion yourself one of the Legio Custodes.”

Constantin’s eyes narrowed. “I am.”

“They have not been called a Legio since the Emperor walked the stars.”

“What are you suggesting?”

“You are not what you claim.”

“A pretty audacious lie to make.” He adjusted his grip on the spear at his side.

She shrugged. “And yet, not the worst I’ve heard. Where did you get that armor?”

“It was crafted for me, Inquisitor” He growled, “And you are obligated to follow orders. I am taking this vessel back to Terra.”

“I am obligated to protect the Throne from all threats. Take off your helmet, then. Prove it’s gene locked to you.”

“And if I do not?”

“I would prefer to settle this without violence.”

“Then defer.”

“For the Throne, I cannot.” From within her capelet, she withdrew an archeotech pistol and a short sword. “You would not be the first Custodian I have crossed blades with. Let's see if you know their way of combat.”

“Your Interrogator will sorrow at your death.” He shook his head at her as he activated the Appolyion Spears’ spitting energy field and raised the blade to meet her advance. 

The Lord Inquisitor darted forward, the shimmer of camoleen across her cloak causing the edges of her to shudder. He realized a moment too late the truth of what it had been hiding- she was almost as tall as he was, and preternaturally fast. She was within his guard in a moment, knocking his spear wide with the flat of her own blade. And up came that pistol to meet the soft armor just above his thigh plate. The hiss fizzle met his ears just as he snarled in pain. 

And then she pulled away as he recovered and followed. She feinted and weaved, sweeping under slashes and testing his defense. That pistol- a kinetic destroyer, a model he had known Venetari to carry- did not find its mark again, but his cloak smoked where she had come close. The cacophony echoed through the hall, a staccato of ringing metal and squealing power fields. With each deflection or dodge, he grew more irritated. Her blade bore the lightning eagle on the cross guard, and fine inscription curled around the pommel. The metal was unmarred despite his Spear’s sweltering charge or the scrape of the monomolecular blade. A Misericordia, then. The idea of it burned in his aggrieved soul.

Finally, her guard was knocked wide, and in came the Apollonian Spear’s blade, piercing her chest and, with the momentum of the strike, pinned her against the pillar behind. As blade met flesh, the truth of the Lord Inquisitor flooded his mind. Her name as it had been given, by the Emperor himself. Arturia Blackhawk.

She stared at him, sensing the transmission of knowledge into the golden figure before her. The man she knew might have been surprised at the revelation, but he would not have given her the time to retaliate- he had been explicit about his thoughts of her, right to the end. Arturia raised her pistol level with his faceplate, and fired. His head snapped back and the spear pulled loose, dropping her to the floor.

Constantin’s mind was reeling. The Spear had told him all- her birth, the brushes with death in the process of becoming a Custodian, falling in love with him, the pain of his continuous rejections, the devastation of the Emperor’s fall, their conflicts right until his disappearance, the grief and confusion of his absence, the cold resignation of serving in an Order that revered and distrusted her in equal measure, the final death in realizing her final mission as custodian had wounded her beyond what could be healed to perfection, and her rebirth as an inquisitor, and all the death that followed in her wake. He had not been prepared to see himself through her eyes. Then his visor plate went black with the force of the kinetic destroyer, knocking him back several steps. He ripped his helm from his head before Arturia could shoot him again.

“Wait-” He rasped, wide eyes meeting hers, “Arturia, wait-”

It was the fallen Custodian’s turn to dumbly stare. “... Constantin.” She finally mustered. Blood was beginning to collect in her mouth with each breath. “It wasn’t… supposed to be… you.”

“Throne.” He swore, dropping to his knees beside her. “I’m so sorry-”

She recoiled slightly as he pulled her into his arms. “Why?”

“You didn’t deserve to be hurt like that, I should have-” Constantin was cut off by her trying to pull herself up and out of his arms. He heard the chirp of a vox as she pressed the bead in her ear.

“Bring me… Dalnos,” She wheezed, “No. No threat. Just… Chest seals.” The vox chirped again and she pulled her mask down so she could spit out a glob of blood. Her eyes met his again. “Fek… you’re a… right bastard, you… know that?”

He nodded, his face tight with contrition. “Arturia...”

“Don’t be… sorry. I don’t… need your p- pity.” 

“It’s not pity- I couldn’t admit it then, and I was a fool not to tell you, but I loved you. I still love you.”

Her expression softened a fraction, and for a moment he thought he saw her deep seated grief. “How could… you?”

“Duty, pride… Fear.” He brushed some of her hair back behind her ear, as he studied her face. “We lost so much. I couldn’t… let you love me.”

She didn’t move, her wet breathing punctuating her silence.

Down the great hall, the sound of power-armored boots echoed. An Astartes, an apothecary by the white of his diagnostor helmet and the Narthecium on his wrist, strode down the center of the room. Constantin didn’t need his helm to see the change in posture as the astartes spotted them and saw the state of Arturia. 

“Ally, Dalnos. Ally.” She huffed, answering the unspoken question. Arturia sheathed her weapon and tried to pull herself to her feet.

“Sit back down, Ma’am. When will you accept armor, eh?” Dalnos growled through his vox.

“Always… next time.” Arturia pulled her rosette out of the way, letting him pull away her robes to expose the bubbling chest wound. Constantin remained close, tension collecting in his shoulders as he watched the apothecary so casually touch her. If Dalnos noticed, he paid no mind. He tsked at Arturia as he sprayed biofoam in the gash and then placed seals over the entry and exits.

Dalnos’ attention turned from Arturia to Constantin. “Do you require any attention?”

Constantin shook his head. “I’ll heal fine on my own.”

Arturia tried again to pull herself to her feet, using Dalnos to steady herself. Dalnos huffed. “Will you accept help this time?”

“The hole’s… in my… chest, not my… legs.”

“Your lung is collapsed.”

“I… noticed.”

Constantin rose, maglocking his ruined helm to his belt. “Even when you have a retinue at your back, you still refuse help.” Arturia turned to retort, but Constantin swept her off her feet. He stared down the Apothecary who jerked forward in protective instinct. “I’ll follow you.” He added. Arturia rolled her eyes, but just relaxed against his chest.

[wayward40k]

(rescue) - for your muse to rescue mine from danger (from this meme!!)

// valdor to possibly clementiya? :)c possibly a returned valdor??? ONLY IF U WISH @adeptvsastartes

Symbol meme starters. @adeptvsastartes

Clementiya had never imagined aid to arrive, when Xenos had overwhelmed the Estate and taken her prisoner in her own home. She'd quickly lost hope that the distress call had reached anyone before being disabled, given no other option than to be quietly cooperative in some attempt to protect her surviving staff. So when she heard combat out in the main corridors, the heiress could only anxiously await whatever resulted.

She hadn't expected it to be a Legio Custodes. The young woman gazed at the massive man in uncertain awe, briefly forgetting how to breathe as she comprehended his presence. It finally dawned on her that, perhaps, silently staring at her rescuer was rude, and she quickly gave him a deep curtsy. "Th-thank you, my lord..."

[chronicle-of-isha]

Chapter 4: Dealing with a diaspora

The ship’s corridors, contrary to the warm colors of gold and red that decorated the walls and floor, were quite cold; with only the occasional decorative plant to break up the repetitive colors. But, without any other quarter presented to her, Isha could do little but sit there; back against the wall, arms wrapped around her knees.

Although the actual temperature of the floor and wall did not truly discomfort her, the sheer incredulity of dumping her there was as biting as any frigid storm.

After being taken back to the Emperor’s dreadnought, she’d effectively been ignored; by the Emperor, by the Custodes, and although some of the much smaller human crew cast the curious eye towards her they took their lead from their liege and ignored her as well.

‘Well, almost all of them.’ Isha thought sadly. There were many that narrowed their eyes, and clenched their fists when their eyes noticed the pointy ears peeking out from under her hair. Those dock hands or engineers were swiftly escorted away from the premises by normal human guards.

At the very least, the Master of Mankind was avoiding an incident aboard his vessel.

She could guess the cause of their anger.

This ship was far away from human space, near the border worlds of the Aeldari Empire; where hunting had been a pastime of the so-called nobility and common folk alike. A shudder crossed her spine as she remembered the memories she gleaned from her children’s minds, and the rage that forced the usually invisible edict of Asuryan to appear, binding her to her arboreal throne.

It had been a long time after her freedom from Khaine’s tortures; after the civil war of the gods had burned out.

The Aeldari had finally created a post-scarcity society; and she watched them as they rebuilt worlds, created wonders, and began to pursue various arts to perfection.

Then the perversion of all that they were began.

Even when she went to Vaul with Kuronous to create the Spirit Stones to circumvent the edict, Asuryan’s chains didn’t bind her; which told of the force of the feeling she had been consumed by when she saw what the Aeldari had begun to do.

If these men and women aboard the ship were from this sector of space, it was little surprise that some of them had been the victims of her people’s cruelty.

Though it did nothing to explain why the Emperor was here; especially with such a large fleet. Diminished though she was, and partially blinded by the Emperor’s wards, she could see the vague silhouettes of other human starships traveling along the path burnt by the Emperor’s presence in the Warp.

Isha stretched out her being, carefully avoiding the Emperor’s psychic wards within the ship, and felt the degree that space had stretched; the one truly universal way of telling time in the constantly expanding universe. Back calculating from the time she had last measured time this way, she was surprised to realize that several decades had already passed since the Fall.

‘Cursed Warp.’ She thought, shaking her head. Time was even more tumultuous than it had been in the Sea of Souls. What had felt like mere moments, falling from the Pantheon, had actually been far longer in the real world than she’d realized.

‘Could the Imperium really have expanded so quickly?’ she wondered.

Decades were a long time for humans, and her people in this time of need, but empires did not appear overnight; and in the lifetime of an empire, a decade was less than a blink of an eye.

Her mind wandered, going over the various worlds she had watched over from upon her throne.

The last time she had cast her eyes on humanity, they were still fractured into multiple factions across the stars; and even on their own homeworld, Chaos cultists and madmen killed each other with gleeful abandon, endlessly repeating history. At least, it would have seemed that way to an Aeldari; Isha mused. Reviewing the events on a human timescale, their greatest wars might have looked glorious, only happening once or twice every generation.

She sighed, already bored despite the fact, she had spent far longer bound to her throne by the edict. At the very least, she had her plants and animals to distract her then.

Looking at one of the plants, she reached out with her mind; entering its essence, listening to the water being drawn up by capillary action along vascular xylem, as the outer phloem pumped sugars and enzymes down into its roots to break down nitrates and minerals; simultaneously feeding the numerous bacteria in the dirt with fresh carbon.

“Do not test me.” The Emperor spoke.

Isha cast a sideways glance upwards at him, nose wrinkling at the smell of scorched Warp stuff from the Emperor’s silent teleportation.

“Should I feel honored or insulted that you yourself act as my guard?” She remarked darkly, unmoving from her position on the floor.

The Emperor snorted. “I would not risk anyone else, and anyone else would be found wanting.”

A dry chuckle came from Isha’s mouth. “Do you think so little of me to truly believe that I would make an enemy of you when I am the enemy of the Four?”

“Your kind is as mercurial as they are merciless.”

There was a moment of silence as the two looked at eachother; the other humans, quickly removing themselves from the premises, unconsciously feeling the psychic pressure radiating between the two of them.

“What are you doing here?” Isha finally broke the silence, equal parts curious and wary. “This is not your home.”

“We.” The Emperor spat out angrily. “are needed here to deal with the remains of the misery your kind wrought.”

“The Eye of Terror is far from here, and I can sense the other ships you have coming. It is a far cry from what you will need.”

Although vague, Isha could see the shadows of guns and other weapons of war on the ships that followed. Too many for a simple patrol or guard, yet not enough to weather an assault in the Warp.

“The Warp is not my current concern, for now. My people are.”

Isha raised an eyebrow. “Have you come to save your people from Chaos, so far from the seat of man?” A surprising sentiment, much softer than she had originally expected from the Master of Mankind, and bizarre as Chaos was only slightly more prevalent here than anywhere else.

He returned her inquisitive stare with an unmoving look.

“Why save a few thousand when I can prevent the death of billions.”

“You…” Shock robbed her of her voice for one moment, before she rose from the ground. “You dare!” The air around her began to twist, miniature tornadoes forming at her fingertips as she rose. “Those are my children!”

The Emperor was not here for the Warp, or his people. He was here to cull the overflow of Aeldari running from the remains of their homes. To stem the flood of refugees, spreading out towards the scattered ruined colonies and worlds of sundered humanity.

These refugees were from the Core worlds of the Aeldari empire. Proto-Pleasure Cultists and initiates, not steeped deep enough in Slaanesh’s taint to be consumed instantaneously, yet not entirely blameless of the corruption that had killed so many.

An infinitely small fraction of a percentage point of the populations those planets had, but that still meant thousands upon thousands of Aeldari were heading to the various worlds around their empire. Living beings who would need planets and resources to survive.

Of course, the planets most suited for life outside the Aeldari empire were usually the habitats of other alien species; humans included.

“Then it would have been better for the both of us if you had taught them restraint.” The Emperor replied bluntly; unmoved by the new turbulent psychic energies radiating from Isha’s form.

“They are broken, and pose no united threat to man.” Isha almost growled. “This place is far away from your core worlds. Why murder them in a place where only the faintest traces of mankind have reached?”

“Mankind’s empire will spread across the stars.” He retorted, quietly. “I would rather have the process be a reconquest than a rebuilding.”

The winds around Isha stopped for a moment, a silence before a quickly growing storm.

“For the scattered colonized and abandoned worlds, unaware of you or your armies…”

The plants beside her trembled and grew with her anger, affected by the psychic energies overflowing from her essence.

“Worlds you in turn plan to conquer and subjugate with force when they’ve ripened far in the future…”

Thorny vines and fanged leaves stretched out from the plants as thick roots spilled out from the dirt; crossing the floor and walls, searching for a gap to bury into.

“To leave empty worlds uninhabited by your kind free of competition…”

Her eyes blazed with psychic energy as she stared back at him.

“You commit genocide on my children in their time of greatest need?”

“Your people have sacrificed thousands of others to save one of your race.” The Emperor replied calmly, strangling the plants with his own psychic power; withering them all in an instant. “Do not lecture me on the weight of alien life compared to your own.”

Isha clenched her teeth with all her might as her rage rippled across her; sharpening nails into claws, elongating canines into fangs.

“At least...” She spat, wrestling with the wildness within her. “Let me speak to them.” Her form returned to that of the fair Goddess of Fertility. “If all you need is for them to be gone from your domain, then use me. Let me send them back; convince them to join the other ones in self-imposed exile.” Bitterly, she looked into the brown eyes of the emperor with her own silvery ones. “You made a tool out of me, so then use me.”

The two of them stared at each other, neither backing down. After a long moment, the Emperor opened his mouth.

“... We are chasing an Eldar raiding party. A rag-tag assortment of pirate vessels and repurposed pleasure cruisers that now serve as slave carriers. Their ships will burn, whether you convince them or not. The wounds they have left on my crew are too great.”

Isha breathed out, letting the remaining rage out of her body.

“If you must slake your people’s bloodlust, so be it.” Better the Wraithbone constructs than the living occupants. “But, where shall my children go?”

He shrugged. “I did not care before, so I had not thought of it.”

Isha’s mind dug deep into her memories of the borders of the Aeldari domain; ancient holdouts from the War in Heaven, forgotten battlefields, and buried bunkers. After a few seconds, she found what she was looking for.

“There is an Aeldari world that used to hold a colony. Its environment is harsh, too harsh for humans, but survivable by the Aeldari.”

The Emperor tilted his head at this. “You would not make it a better place for them?”

“And make it another mouthwatering target for your empire?” This time it was her turn to snort. “I think not.”

“Mother to the Aeldari indeed.” Chuckled the Master of Mankind. “If only they had inherited your foresight.”

“If they had, you may have never reached the stars.”

“Perhaps…” And a great weariness radiated from him for a brief instant. “But they didn’t and we did.

[crimsonqueenmagnus]

Rules, Tags, and Information

Decided to re-do my blog intro stuff!

Anyways, first things first I will list some rules that I have:

-This blog is occasionally NSFW or at least could be NSFW if I so choose it. I am 28 and do not want to interact with minors on this blog.

-It is one thing to have some jokesy asks, even teasing or weird asks but if they begin to get repetitive, I will delete them.

-Warhammer 40k is a vast universe with a lot of different types of individuals. I'm more than happy to interact with any characters/OCs of the universe but please bear in mind that certain topics do not really involve my muse so do not keep pushing topics that my muse/me do not seem interested in.

-I do not interact with drama. If an issue arises, I will simply block the person involved and move on with my life without really acknowledging it unless they are a genuine bad person. I don't want the person involved to leave the fandom and I don't want to argue either. That is the short and long of it.

Tags:

#crimsonqueenmagnus : Responses and drabbles written from the POV of my primary muse, Magnus.

#sorcerer inyotep : Responses and drabbles written from the POV of my Thousand Sons sorcerer OC, Inyotep Ra Tarek.

#inyotep bio : Information on Inyotep

#lords of ataraxia : Responses done in the POV of Lord Alghast Magholt and Lady Dennia Vorteaux, Ataraxian council nobles of the two most prominent houses on the planet. They live in the City of Phyrron which is the capitol city of Ataraxia.

#banter: less-serious but still in character back and forths between myself and other blogs.

#unsafe-sorcery : NSFW tag. Not regularly used.

#ixora-magholt : Responses and writings from the POV of Ixora Magholt, adoptive daughter of Magnus. BIO HERE

The Story So Far...

My Magnus does diverge from Canon Magnus, obviously there's the fact that this rendition is a woman. I find that that fact alone keeps a lot of losers away anyways. Outside of this, Magnus is currently in a relationship with the Captain-General of the Custodes, Atticus Vulcroa.

After assisting in battle alongside Atticus, it seemed the Changer of Ways wanted the battle to continue despite Magnus' hesitance, considering she had been appreciative of the Custodian's help. When this occurred, she realized she couldn't continue as a daemon for concern of the backlash her decision would have upon the sons that were still loyal to her. With the aid of Atticus, Magnus was freed from Chaos' influence, maintaining her wings but losing her more daemonic features. Although the rubric still remains on the Thousand Sons, the influence of chaos quiets their souls somewhat.

Seeing as the Thousand Sons no longer had a home within the Immaterium, the legion made their way to a new planet to call home. A large, jungle planet on the outskirts of Imperial space known as Ataraxia seemed to fit the bill. The planet was known for birthing many psykers and also its intriguing mega-fauna. Upon arrival, Magnus came across Darius and his Revenants, who were presently engaging with Black Legionnaires. They worked together to flush out the faction and bring relative peace back to Ataraxia.