#wh40k lore

Beautiful excerpts from Atlas Infernal by Rob Sanders:

>The Hexenguard were no longer hulking figures in blessed plate but Traitor Space Marines in ancient power armour, helmeted Thousand Sons in blistering azure, clutching bolters and waiting obediently for orders. The only armoured figures without helmets were the cloaked sorcerers who acted like lieutenants on the bridge, their unhealthy features glowing with dark power and minds in constant congress with the warp. Chief among these was an androgynous tyrant standing where Sister Archangela Voightdecker had been.

>>>ANDROGYNOUS TYRANT

‘Welcome to the Impossible Fortress,’ the sorcerer leered. Gone was the androgynous monster. His face had changed and seemed in constant motion: a Cadian grimace, a courtesan’s smile, a nightworld barbarian, the alien eyes of an eldar, the rictus grin of a servitor, Voightdecker, Czevak himself. The transformations continued, less a morphing of the flesh than an elusive trick of the eye.

>>>Courtesan's smile

Ahriman is also canonically a professional catfish lmao

He's not actually 12ft+ tall. He's Just Some Guy in actuality but through a combination of biomancy and psychic projection, he appears to be very tall. Or, I mean, by the time of the Great Crusade he doesn't really even have a "true form" anymore, he's just whatever he needs to be at any given time.

He doesn't appear very tall or muscular or whatever all the time, even in the 30th millenium. He appears as a giant golden figure when he needs to project strength and authority, but sometimes he appears as a normal ass looking guy. Like when he finds Perturabo, he appeared as a normal baseline human. To some baseline humans, he just appears as some schmuck in a lab coat.

So for most of human history, before he revealed his true power level, he was looking like some guy.

A phalanx of golden-armoured warriors surrounded him, each holding a crackling halberd longer than they were tall. Seconds before, Angron had been in the centre of a battlefield, and the Butcher’s Nails were still in command of him. He saw strangers on all sides of him, brandishing weapons. The Nails saw blood, begging to be spilled.

The closest of the golden warriors took one step further, and Angron killed him for it. The blink of an eye was all it took before he cast the corpse to the ground, torn in half from collar to groin by his bare hands. The others advanced, their halberds at his throat and spasming with angry chains of lightning.

Angron found a dozen weaknesses in each of them, angles left open and postures vulnerable. He would make this entire room red, until you couldn’t see the gold, he would–

+Cease.+

HHHHHCHOkay,

SO:

As I revealed in This Post, I have life-longedly loved GamesWorkshop’s(idk WHY my tag for them is separated; I should prob fix that |:T) settings, tho I wouldn’t say I’ve really been a *PART* of its fandom cuz I was at most a lurker in EVERY fandom before Homestuck, but An Idea occurred to me today about some VERY obscure parts of the Imperium’s backstory which would make ALLOT OF THREADS snap NEATLY INTO PLACE, and I’m going to write this theory down(with no idea how unviable their novelizations make it cuz No I Am Not Reading Those Things) even though it will probably be of zero interest to most of my Dear, Dear Sweet Readers u_u u_u

ANYWAY(and under a cut to Spare You All):

INTRO A while ago I posted this on the Advance Tau Tactica forum, posing the question as to what’s really behind all the inconsistencies in WH40K lore.  At bottom of this post is link to the complete discussion thread. If any of you are Tau players, or are interested in Tau lore, the A.T.T. forum is great place to visit.

EXCERPTS Proposition: It's not a Retcon, Nobody is Driving the Bus! Much of what we think of as retcon of WH40K lore is just some author not doing do diligence; or just not caring enough about the subject to even bother. Only rarely do I think someone knows what the lore is, and then goes ahead and does whatever they want to anyway. Much less, do I ever think there is a wilful "overturning" of lore; just because some editor or game designer wants to remake the WH40k universe.

What Games Workshop and Black Library Authors have said about the subject.

"Here's our standard line: Yes it's all official, but remember that we're reporting back from a time where stories aren't always true, or at least 100% accurate. If it has the 40K logo on it, it exists in the 40K universe. Or it was a legend that may well have happened. Or a rumour that may or may not have any truth behind it." Marc Gascogne, chief editor Black Library

"With Warhammer and Warhammer 40,000, the notion of canon is a fallacy. [...] Warhammer and Warhammer 40,000 exist as tens of thousands of overlapping realities in the imaginations of games developers, writers, readers and gamers. None of those interpretations is wrong." Gav Thorpe, Lead Designer GW

"It all stems from the assumption that there's a binding contract between author and reader to adhere to some nonexistent subjective construct or 'true' representation of the setting. There is no such contract, and no such objective truth." Andy Hoare, Game Designer GW

"There is no canon. There are several hundred creators all adding to the melting pot of the IP." Aaron Dembski-Bowden, co-author Horus Heresy series

Please take a look at the discussion thread, or at least give your opinion on the status of WH40K lore as it stands today.

>Klute was forced to break off. Mammoshad had provoked the High Inquisitor to frenzied apoplexy with some lie, twisted truth or daemonic silence and Czevak had seized the hexagrammic stamphammer and was smashing indiscriminate purity runes into both the bouncing coin and Torqhuil’s heretical construct. Czevak was roaring at the coin and the daemon was bawling back through the speaking trumpet.

‘Bastard thing!’

‘Grow to enjoy it I think you did, Bronislaw!’ Mammoshad squawked. ‘Got a taste for victimhood and the lash. Enjoyed Ahriman inside you, I think, violating your mind and polluting your spirit.’

Klute grabbed his friend from behind, a hand digging into each thrashing shoulder. Torqhuil pulled his device of daemonic congress away from the swing of the hammer and the High Inquisitor’s flailing boots.

😳😳😳

>>>Got a taste for victimhood and the lash. Enjoyed Ahriman inside you, I think, violating your mind and polluting your spirit.’

Why did Czevak enjoy Ahriman inside him and why is this bitch ass daemon kinkshaming him for that

>Czevak felt as though he were in the presence of a god – or at least one that aspired to such exaltation. The air was bleached of all else but the being’s will. A cold desire – devoid of the fever of human passion – saturated Czevak.

😳😳😳 Listen I took this one a bit out of context ("A purity of purpose so powerful as to scorch lesser evils and the taint of corruption from its unswerving path." is the next line that explains the nature of the said desire) but that was still a weird thing to say you know

>The inquisitor’s eyes widened in panic and once again he began to convulse against the restriction of his bonds. Ahriman’s blazing eyes narrowed before the sorcerer laid his gauntlet upon the aged inquisitor’s chest. The spasms subsided and the cramps faded to terrifying memories.

‘Like all others – of the flesh, of the other, of the ether – I am driven by need. I would no less allow your heart to stop beating than I would allow my own, inquisitor – for both now beat beyond their natural inclination. They beat that I might learn the rune designations for the eldar warp gate on Etiamnum III. They beat that I might breach the eldar webway without invitation. That I might enter, as you have, the hallowed halls of the Black Library of Chaos and further learn my fate, the fate of this galaxy and the relationship between.’

Ahriman touches Czevak's chest and keeps being a pervert towards old men as usual.

> Czevak threw forward his face and spat a stringy gruel of blood and saliva into Ahriman’s blazing eyes. Blinking, the Thousand Sons sorcerer unclipped one of his gauntlets and brought a glowing hand to his god-like face. With delicate fingertips he wiped the blood and spit from his eyes before rubbing the spittle between fingers and thumb with interest.

If I had a nickel each time someone spat in Ahriman’s face and survived that, I would have 2 nickels. Which isn't a lot, but it's weird that it happened twice.

>‘For all this talk of hearts beating,’ Ahriman told him with a cool, celestial certainty, ‘blood is not my medium. But I have seen what you may do and what you will do. Please forgive me the horror we both know you will make me put you through.’

Thousand Sons sorcerer having rubrics carry him in a fucking palanquin was sick as fuck, I'm stealing this. Xarchos is horny for some reason and his eyes "feast on Czevak’s young and athletic body". To comment that the Inquisitor looks younger off course, what else were you thinking about, perverts? TS are so othered by the narrative (as usual), that Czevak makes up a whole new slur for them, [chaos] spawn-fondler. Lol. TS must be the honorary mpreg Legion bc once again there is pregnancy imagery and it's even more obvious than in other books. They're growing a super powerful daemon inside a planet, the planet itself is compared to an egg and a womb, and the daemon to a fetus, the daemon's gestation gets interrupted and there's a detail about it having an underdeveloped conjoined twin attached to its body. I'm sorry for Ahriman's and Xarchos' miscarriage or glad for their abortion? 😭😭😭 Ahriman lifts his ass out of the cuck chair to make fun of Czevak via his telepathic link with Xarchos. Czevak calls him a slur again ("deviant"). Ahriman who is puppeteering Xarchos sets Czevak’s harlequin coat on fire bc he wants the Atlas Infernal he assumed would be in the coat's pockets. There is no Atlas Infernal in the pockets and he's angry. Thankfully, he burned only the coat, Czevak isn't naked. Ahriman is being weirdly coquettish about torturing Czevak again. Then we get back to the pregnancy bullshit (different this time). Ahriman retreats from Xarchos' consciousness bc Xarchos gets killed by a fucking fetus (top 10 anime deaths ahh moment). Czevak has brought an Omega Minus pariah embryo in a jar and Ahriman opened it bc he's stupid (or smart? I don't know what he wanted). Xarchos is killed by it. The poor baby daemon gestating inside the planet is getting aborted by the pariah aura. Czevak escapes. Ahriman is so fanny traggot coded here that Czevak misgenders him by calling him "it". Ahriman has learned the location of Czevak’s ship from Czevak’s mind and that actually happened 50 years before their actual conversation bc the world it's happened on has a moon that's affected by a warp anomaly, it exists 50 years into the past relative to the world it orbits, so Czevak assumes Ahriman must have sent the warning to his own confused 50 years younger ass. Don't look at me like that, I was confused too.

Sorry, I'm not including everything of this in attached quotes. I don't think anybody will be that much interested in the fetus daemon or the way pariah fetus makes a psyker die. Go read Atlas Infernal if you wanna see that. Killing Xarchos with a super gross aborted pariah clone baby was still less embarrassing than the Crimson King by the way.

>Looking up, Czevak watched a further squad of Rubric Marines stomp down the nearby scree. Upon their shoulders the undead Adeptus Astartes carried a golden, pyramid-style palanquin, upon which sat an armoured, androgynous giant. He wore the gleaming, ornate armour of the Thousand Sons Traitor Legion and as he got up out of his warped throne and walked off the palanquin, his boots telekinetically carried him to the ground as if walking down invisible steps. The monster pressed his palms and dark-rune painted claws together and feasted his eyes on Czevak’s fresh face and athletic, younger body.

‘You are looking well, inquisitor,’ Xarchos observed, his own features rapidly changing, every turn and angle producing a different face. He finally settled on an unsettling reflection of the High Inquisitor’s own. ‘Far better than when I last saw you. I see the eldar have been treating you well.’

‘Their hospitality was better than yours, warp scum,’ Czevak told the sorcerer.

>‘Damn you, Xarchos,’ Czevak shot back with a smile.

‘Erudite, inquisitor. But hardly surprising. A truly learned man would not have been – for the longest time – my puppet, his strings tangled in my web of intrigue.’

‘Save it, spawn-fondler,’ Czevak called. ‘I’ve cut my puppet’s strings and seen myself for the pawn I’ve become.’

>‘Where’s that sorcerous bastard master of yours?’ Czevak asked, staring into the depths of the warp void below. ‘I would have thought he would want to see this story through to the end.’

Xarchos smiled. ‘He’s watching.’

Like a pebble dropped into a still pool, Korban Xarchos’ face sploshed and rippled. As the wrinkles radiated outward the face became still once more, but instead of Czevak’s features, the traitor’s face was now that of Ahzek Ahriman. The sorcerer beamed cerulean majesty and turned his demigod’s eyes on Czevak.

‘Inquisitor,’ Ahriman greeting Czevak with cold civility. ‘Still the maggot wriggling through the rotten flesh of galactic corruption, I see.’

‘Until maggots devour yours, deviant,’ Czevak replied.

>Before Czevak had time to reply, the sorcerer waved two casual fingers at him. The inquisitor’s Harlequin coat was suddenly aflame. The enchanted blaze flashed through the garment, incinerating the item about Czevak’s body until all that was left was ash on the breeze and the junk that the inquisitor kept in his pockets. Peering at the items piled either side of the inquisitor from his now non-existent pockets, Ahriman’s eyes glowed and narrowed.

‘Could I be so bold as to save me some time and you unbearable agony – again – by asking, inquisitor, where is the Atlas Infernal?’

‘I couldn’t tell you…’ Czevak began.

‘I really have no interest in occupying the narrow confines of your mind again, inquisitor…’ Ahriman’s voice was everywhere, bouncing around the open-cast crater and through Czevak’s mind. The Rubric Marines tightened their deathless grip on the inquisitor’s arms, holding him in place as their sorcerer lord gazed into him. ‘But if you press me.’

The speed and savage force with which the sorcerer attempted to ravage his soul surprised even Czevak.

>He re-lived the polluted presence of the sorcerer. How he had invaded Czevak’s mind once again on the surface of Melmoth’s World, with the Rubric Marines holding him still. In his feverish search for the Atlas Infernal, Ahriman had set upon Czevak’s suspicious memory of Father, but Czevak hypothesised, what if the sorcerer had seen more? Travelled back further in his memories and only in the reflection of defeat had seen Czevak give the Atlas Infernal to Klute; had seen the Scorpento Maestrale and the deep blue star outside of the bridge lancet windows. An astrotelepathic message sent to Auboron – perhaps only the simplest of warnings and locations – forwarded to a confused Ahzek Ahriman, fifty years in his past. Would the daemon sorcerer heed its own garbled counsel? He might, with nothing left to show for years of intricate planning and failed entrapment than a vanquished daemon and an Omega-Minus level soul-scalding, high up above Melmoth’s World. Czevak grunted. The Eye of Terror was certainly strange enough to support such a hypothesis.

>>>An astrotelepathic message sent to Auboron – perhaps only the simplest of warnings and locations – forwarded to a confused Ahzek Ahriman, fifty years in his past. Would the daemon sorcerer heed its own garbled counsel?

>>>Its