King of weirdness and bad ideas

Rogal Dorn and Perturabo would be fascinating rivals in the modern world, as their approaches—while both technically brilliant—differ in motivation and style. Perturabo, the primarch of the Iron Warriors, was a master of siege warfare, meticulous planning, and devastating efficiency, often driven by bitterness and a need to prove his superiority. Dorn, by contrast, built on unyielding defense, pragmatism, and loyalty.

If they had companies, Dorn’s might be something like "Dorn Security Solutions"—focused on sturdy, reliable, and long-term sustainable projects: bunkers, vaults, government buildings, or cyber "fortresses." His motto could be "Resilience above all." Perturabo’s firm, say "Iron Siege Industries", would specialize in more aggressive, innovative, and perhaps destructive technologies—think advanced weaponry, demolition systems, or software for breaching defenses, with an emphasis on overcoming any resistance.

Competition? Definitely, but likely indirect. Dorn would target clients seeking absolute protection (governments, banks, corporations), while Perturabo would cater to those needing to break through obstacles (military contractors, hackers, security-testing firms). Their rivalry would escalate, though, if they vied for the same contract—like a government bid for an "ultimate defense system." Dorn would design an impenetrable stronghold; Perturabo would test it with his own methods, then offer something "better" by his standards.

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The Wedding of Leman Russ

The wedding of Leman Russ, primarch of the Space Wolves, would be wild, raucous, and brimming with energy—a perfect reflection of his wolf-like nature and the culture of Fenris. As a warrior with a hunter’s soul and a brother’s heart, Leman would turn the ceremony into a boisterous celebration of life and kinship.

Location: The ceremony would take place in the snow-swept tundra of Fenris, beneath a starlit sky and accompanied by the distant howls of wolves. The venue would be a massive wooden hall built from giant logs, adorned with furs, runes, and hunting trophies—skulls of monsters and weapons of vanquished foes. Roaring fires would blaze high, warming the guests even in the harshest winter chill.

Proceedings:

Ritual: No long speeches or delicate promises—Leman would swear loyalty to his bride (or partner, if it were a symbolic union) over a massive horn of mead and a broken blade, signifying an unbreakable bond. An ancient Fenrisian custom might be included, such as a shared hunt where the couple together brings down a ferocious beast, proving their strength and unity.

Feast: Tables would groan under mountains of meat—roasted carcasses of Fenris’s giant creatures, like sea drakes or ice bears. Mead and ale would flow freely, served in drinking horns and the skulls of fallen enemies. The Space Wolves would sing hoarse sagas of heroism and battle, accompanied by the pounding of shields.

Atmosphere: Chaotic yet filled with brotherhood and joy. No formalities, just a raw celebration of life, combat, and camaraderie. Guests would feel the wild energy of the place, as if they’d become part of the wolf pack themselves.

Leman’s Behavior: Leman Russ would be at the heart of it all—loud, hearty, and full of life. He’d laugh, drink with his brothers, and recount tales of his conquests. Yet in key moments, he’d reveal his deeper, loyal side, especially if it were a true bond of love or alliance. His partner would need to be as fierce and untamed as he is to earn the respect of the wolf pack.

Symbolism: The wedding would celebrate strength, freedom, and the bond of the pack. Leman might gift his partner a runic amulet or the pelt of a slain beast as a token of their union. Everything would revolve around survival and the thrill of the fight.

Location: The ceremony would take place on Chemos, his homeworld, in a stunning palace of marble and glass, its walls adorned with frescoes, statues, and golden inlays. Every detail—from the lighting to the symmetry—would be meticulously designed to inspire awe. Alternatively, it could be a floating pavilion on some exotic planet, surrounded by gardens of rare flowers and fountains singing harmonious melodies.

Proceedings:

Ritual: Fulgrim would treat the wedding as the ultimate performance. Vows would be poetic, delivered in a melodic voice that enchants all who hear it, accompanied by a symphony played on instruments from across the galaxy. He might include a ritual of beauty—perhaps painting a masterpiece together or performing a dance symbolizing their harmony. Everything would be choreographed to perfection, without a single flaw.

Feast: The food would be an artistic experience—delicate dishes sculpted like works of art, wines that shift flavor with every sip, and desserts so beautiful they’d be almost too exquisite to eat. The Emperor’s Children would mingle among the guests in ornate armor adorned with filigree patterns, while music played continuously, from soft harps to dramatic operatic crescendos.

Atmosphere: Enchanting, sensual, and utterly intoxicating. The air would be perfumed with fragrances and flowers, light refracting through crystals, and every glance would reveal a new aesthetic marvel. Guests would feel as if in a trance, though perhaps slightly exhausted by Fulgrim’s relentless pursuit of perfection.

Fulgrim’s Behavior: Fulgrim would be flamboyant and charismatic, dressed in silken robes and armor that accentuate his otherworldly beauty. His movements would be graceful, every smile calculated, and his voice would resonate like music. He’d approach his partner as a muse—expecting them to match his grace and refinement to form a perfect pair. His love would be intense but superficial, focused more on outward expression than deeper emotion.

Symbolism: The wedding would celebrate beauty, art, and perfection. Fulgrim might gift his partner something like a mirror reflecting their ideal form or a jewel so stunning it outshines the stars. Everything would revolve around aesthetics and harmony, down to the smallest detail.

Impression: Guests would leave spellbound, feeling they’d witnessed the pinnacle of artistic expression. Some would be swept away, while others might sense a lack of depth beneath the beauty. It would be grandiose, perhaps excessively so.

The wedding of Ferrus Manus, primarch of the Iron Hands, would be a stark, disciplined, and utilitarian affair, reflecting his unyielding nature, obsession with strength, and disdain for weakness. Forged in the harsh crucible of Medusa, Ferrus would craft a ceremony that prioritizes resilience and functionality over sentimentality. Here’s how it might look:

Location: The ceremony would take place on Medusa, amidst its volcanic forges and jagged iron peaks. The venue could be a massive forge-temple, its walls lined with smoldering anvils, molten metal rivers, and the ceaseless clang of machinery. The air would be thick with the scent of smoke and steel, illuminated by the glow of lava and the sparks of hammering.

Proceedings:

Ritual: Ferrus would see the wedding as a forging of a bond—unbreakable and practical, like the metal he reveres. Vows would be short, direct, and spoken with the weight of a hammer striking an anvil, emphasizing strength, loyalty, and endurance. He might include a ritual of crafting—perhaps forging a shared weapon or piece of armor together with his partner, symbolizing their unity through toil and fire. The act would test their resolve, as weakness has no place in his world.

Feast: The meal would be austere but hearty—roasted meats from Medusa’s hardy beasts, bread baked in forge ovens, and strong, bitter spirits served in iron mugs. There’d be no excess or decadence; everything would serve a purpose. The Iron Hands would stand in stoic silence, their cybernetic limbs gleaming, observing rather than celebrating.

Atmosphere: Harsh, intense, and unrelenting. The sound of clashing metal and roaring furnaces would drown out any softness. Guests would feel the heat and weight of the environment, a constant reminder of Ferrus’s philosophy: only the strong endure. There’d be no frivolity—just a grim, purposeful energy.

Ferrus’s Behavior: Ferrus would be imposing and resolute, his metallic hands glinting as he stood like a statue of iron. Clad in minimal ceremonial armor (he’d scorn ostentation), his presence would command respect. He’d treat his partner as a fellow warrior or artisan, expecting them to match his strength and determination. Emotion would be restrained—his love expressed through deeds, not words, like a perfectly forged blade offered as a gift.

Symbolism: The wedding would revolve around the themes of steel and self-reliance. Ferrus might present his partner with an iron-wrought ring or a shard of the xenos metal that coats his hands, symbolizing an unbreakable connection. The event would be less about affection and more about creating something enduring, a partnership tempered in adversity.

The wedding of Magnus the Red, primarch of the Thousand Sons, would be a mystical, intellectual, and Warp-infused spectacle. As a master of knowledge and sorcery, Magnus would transform the ceremony into an event that transcends the physical realm, celebrating the union of minds and souls. Here’s how it might unfold:

Location: The ceremony would take place on Prospero, the homeworld of the Thousand Sons, within a magnificent pyramid of crystal and gold, its walls reflecting a thousand colors. The hall would be filled with libraries, ancient scrolls, and ethereal projections of star charts. The Warp would permeate the air—a subtle mist of energy linking reality with the unseen.

Proceedings:

Ritual: Magnus would treat the wedding as a cosmic merging of two souls. Vows wouldn’t just be spoken but shared telepathically—an exchange of thoughts and visions, revealing their deepest desires and knowledge. He might incorporate a Warp ritual, such as conjuring an ethereal flame together or crafting an astral projection of their future. The proceedings would be accompanied by recitations of ancient texts in a tongue most guests couldn’t comprehend.

Feast: The food would be exotic and symbolic—fruits from unknown worlds, wines that shift flavor with the drinker’s mood, and dishes prepared through alchemical means. The Thousand Sons would stand as guardians, their armor glowing with runes, and guests might feel their minds opening to new ideas simply from Magnus’s presence.

Atmosphere: Ethereal, dreamlike, and faintly unsettling. The air would hum with energy, whispers of the Warp occasionally audible, and guests would experience visions—some beautiful, others terrifying. It would feel like standing on the edge of infinity.

Magnus’s Behavior: Magnus would be majestic and charismatic, his single eye glowing like a red sun. Towering in a robe adorned with occult symbols, his voice would resonate as if echoing from another realm. He’d approach his partner as an equal scholar, expecting curiosity and courage to face the unknown. Though proud and perhaps arrogant, his love would be profound, wrapped in intellectual passion rather than physical tenderness.

Symbolism: The wedding would celebrate knowledge, power, and connection to the Warp. Magnus might gift his partner an artifact—perhaps a book with infinite pages or an amulet infused with a fragment of his essence. Everything would revolve around transcending human understanding.

Impression: Guests would leave awestruck, feeling they’d witnessed something beyond comprehension. Some would be inspired to seek truth, others haunted by what they glimpsed in the Warp’s shadows. It would be beautiful yet perilous—much like Magnus himself.