#bellephus

12th Millennial joins MMM

Bellephus wanting to recite poetry to set a romantic mood, while Narvo and Savona are having other ideas (and absolutely do NOT want to hear his so-called poetry), is something i thought might fit their vibes.

Cropped and censored to appease the tumblr gods.

Reposting Bellephus and Savona for @legiopraesagio for continued support of my Fabius-stuff!

The Gutter Poet and his Lady.

Through the smoke, Savona saw Bellephus, Varex and several other warriors approaching. ‘It is time to leave, my lady,’ Bellephus said as he eyed Quin. ‘What?’ Savona shook her head, trying to clear the blood from her eyes. ‘I took the liberty of preparing Butcher-Bird. I’ve already called for a tactical withdrawal on the Twelfth’s vox-channel. Anyone still alive will meet us in orbit.’ ‘What about the others?’ Savona asked, without thinking. ‘They are not of the Twelfth,’ Bellephus said simply.

Bellephus the Gutterpoet

Savona's loyal Sergeant (shipping that), rather mutated and convinced that his poetry is kickass.

It is not.

A Space Marine approached, his armour inscribed with line upon line of obscene Chemosian gutter-poetry. His name was Bellephus, formerly of the 214th Millennial.

Reynolds, Josh. Clonelord (Fabius Bile Book 2) . Kindle-Version.

Beside her, as always, strode her amanuensis, Bellephus. The gutter-poet seemed to be her loyal dog, for reasons known only to them. The hulking renegade wore battleplate inscribed with line upon line of obscene verse, and his helmet bristled with unnatural fleshy growths. Despite the state of his armour, the bolter he carried was well cared for, as was the sword sheathed at his side. Fabius knew him for a steady hand, as far as such things went.

Reynolds, Josh. Clonelord (Fabius Bile Book 2) . Kindle-Version.

🎃 Happy Halloween 🎃!

What better way to celebrate than with some Nurgle fluff? For my last bingo ficlet, I wrote about the stinkiest of good boys: Paz'uz from the Fabius Bile trilogy!

More details beneath the cut.

Attached to this letter is a wig cause sometimes...it's nice to imagine what a full head of hear is.

Also, may I have a Konrad clone? I require it for reasons

As a poet, he particularly loves these dark hours. When every light in his quarters is switched off and only the glow of his datapad bathes his face in a bluish light as he feverishly and creatively scribbles line after line.

Now and again one of the maws on his neck twitches and pointed teeth flash wetly, but otherwise it is quiet.

The sudden flash as a message pops up surprises him and makes him tense up in the high of the battle hormones shooting in.

Bellephus stretches his shoulders, opens and closes his jaw a few times to give the tension space. Then he regains his composure and reads the message. Only one person has the clearance to appear immediately with their messages on every datapad on Urum. And that person rarely addresses their Twelfth Millenial brethren directly.

"What?!"

The word is loud in the sleepy silence of the quarters. Next to him, Savona moves and half-opens her eyes, mumbling, "Hrmw?" without quite really waking up yet.

"He wants me to cut his hair!" Bellephus can't quite keep complete amazement and a hint of panic out of his voice now.

Now Narvo is also stirring on his other side, yawning. "Why the fuck are you shouting? We still have a three-hour rest cycle."

"Because the spider wants me to cut his hair short!"

The utter absurdity ensures that both of his partners sit up after all. Savona yawns as demonstratively as she can, but it's just a kind of introductory remark before she says, "Why you?" - "Because I'm the only one here with reasonably short hair." Disbelief falters in Bellephus' voice and the mouths on his throat and neck snap again in irritation at nothing.

Narvo points to his shoulder-length, sleep-tousled hair: "That doesn't count?" - "Apparently not."

Savona pulls a little more of the blanket towards her. More as a show of force than because she's cold. "Why does he want short hair anyway? He hasn't cared about it so far, has he? He lets it grow, it falls out partially with the blight; a stringy status quo establishes itself until the next body." - "Absolutely no idea."

Narvo grins. "Then you should really make an effort and see that you go to him right away!"

Another flash of a new message. Bellephus reads it, then goes "Hah!" in Narvo's direction and says: "But it's you two too!"

Savona takes the datapad. "What's wrong with him right now? Or is he just trying to stress us out?" - "What now?" Narvo sighs with ominous foreboding in his voice.

"We're supposed to fly to the smugglers' station and buy a … I can't believe it … rubber sex doll. A rubber doll that looks like a Night Lord! And have it wrapped as an opulent gift."

Narvo pushes past Bellephus and out of bed, padding on bare feet to the other side of the room, where the three warriors' gear forms an insiders-only organised pile. "Whatever he's planning to do with it - I want to be there! That sounds fantastically bizarre! I don't know who he's trying to insult to the core - but it'll be fun."

(I'm letting you decide who he encoutered! I would like you know that I don't want to start with combat, so someone willing to talk will be appriciated

I'm not sure if you would need this but just fyi:

Verdan is armed with a force halberd, a mostly empty strom bolter and is wearing a scuffed and beaten up aegis terminator suit with a seriously fucked up helmet.)

The room is larger than the rather inconspicuous door might initially suggest. Columns divide it up and disappear into the darkness at the back. Some narrow windows let in grey light with strange streaks and something can be heard from outside that might be the sound of fighting. An impact further away - dust trickles from the ceiling and the lumens hanging from long cables dance for a few seconds.

The two people in the room turn towards Verdan in synchronised motion, raising their old, ornately decorated baroque bolters.

They were obviously busy looking for something. Cupboards have been rummaged through, drawers are open and jars of viscous liquid have shattered on the stone floor. Some strange tissue samples have also been scattered and are twitching on the tiles.

In a way, the two Chaos Marines certainly live up to the image you always have of them. Their armour is in various shades of pink, purple and crimson and is richly decorated with gold ornaments. One of the two, whose armour is adorned all over with text in a language unknown to Verdan, has strange flesh-like outgrowths on his helmet and a snow-white crest swings elegantly to one side as the marine fixes his gaze on the newcomer.

The other person, however - well, apparently the Heretics have gone further in their corruption of the Emperor's work than previously known, as it is obviously a woman. She wears no helmet and her painted lips twist into a slightly too friendly smile, showing too pointed teeth. She is no shorter than the Astartes next to her, on the contrary - limbs elongated into goat legs even give her a little more height.

Thank you for the doll! It was not like it was expected. It was perfect for weapons testing and for just stabbing. I am not a degenerate. Having sex with Konrad is an ick, and There are MUCH better choices out there. How's the wig?

(again - wrong ask-box! But I can just reblog)

So first up: Fabius with short hair. Pretty!

"I mean, what did you expect? I did my best! But working miracles is more Saqqara's speciality." Bellephus' otherwise rather melodic voice has a distinctly annoyed undertone. He throws the scissors on the table and takes a step away from Fabius. Though he's made the Chief Apothecary take off the chirurgeon for the duration of the haircut (the metallic monster has retreated to an armour stand in the corner of the room, rattling quietly, and Bellephus knows it's watching him), the spider is dangerous enough without his artificial guard dog when he's annoyed.

But it's hard to tell if he's angry. He stares in the mirror. His brow furrows. The corners of his mouth twist. Suddenly he starts to laugh.

Bellephus involuntarily reaches to his side, where of course no bolter is currently maglocked. Shakes his head in amazement. "What's funny?"

Fabius runs his hand over his skull, which has been shaved down to a strip in the centre. Chuckles to himself - probably the creepiest thing you could hear on Urum at the moment. "I can't remember ever having short hair … As a child, maybe. And that … that's really amusing."

Bellephus exhales deeply and the maws on his neck hiss angrily. "No, I still don't get it. What exactly is funny?"

Fabius stands up, shaking the cut-off remnants of hair off himself. The Chirurgeon raises its arms - like a threatening tarantula or a child who wants to be picked up by its father. "Well, this is the first time I've decided not to simply accept and surgically address the ravages of the Blight, but to actively try to … hmmm … look more attractive, even if I'm already dying. And I just find the irony very funny. I've always looked down on your and my other brothers' vanity. And now I'm playing the game. Although admittedly at an amateur level."

Bellephus nods. Repacks the long-hair clippers after cleaning them. "And let's be honest - I'm willing to bet you won't be putting in this effort for long."

Fabius snorts. Still amused. "Thank you for your frank assessment of my emotional resilience, Gutter Poet. But since you're probably right, I'm not going to start a discussion about it."

Bellephus gets ready to leave, turns round again: "What actually happened to the doll that Narvo and Savona got and handed in?" - "I haven't the faintest idea - except that aggression was probably more of a motivator than attraction, and I'm enjoying my ignorance in that regard. Maybe I should actually clone Curze and have him raised somewhere where he won't turn into a psychopath. Might just do the Night Lords good to have a stable father figure for a change."