Time slowed down whenever Angron fought, or at least it seemed like it did. It was a strange feeling; he didn’t remember exactly what it had been like back in Rome, but on Nucreia—after he had gotten the Nails—time had simply ceased to pass, and Angron’s entire existence had become a red-tinged haze of brutality. It had almost been like suddenly falling asleep, almost like some ocean had swamped his being, and eventually he would wake up with hundreds—possibly thousands—of corpses around him, happy at last. It had been a struggle to maintain understanding of the world around him, and even harder to make

Angron Revitalized by MoreaGaara, literature

Literature

Angron Revitalized

Angron noticed that nearly everyone reacted differently to him in his new body, including Roboute Guilliman. The only people who seemed to know and understand what had happened were Alpharius—who had apparently learned how to teleport at some point during the past ten thousand years—the Emperor, and his newly discovered father, Tomar. Angron had spoken with him a little, and had learned that changing sexes was utterly normal for their mother’s species, and therefore for him and all his brothers. Tomar was not, however, sure why Angron wasn’t able to use his magical gifts, however. The only thing Angron was able to

Awakening by MoreaGaara, literature

Literature

Awakening

Angron hadn’t slept since the day he had received the Butcher’s Nails a few weeks after he had arrived on the hellworld named Nucreia. It was a rare side effect, his masters had said, but a welcome one: a gladiator who could not sleep was one who devolved into anger, rage, and berserk fury that much faster. It didn’t take Angron long to figure out why; within the first few days of sleeplessness, every shadow held a threat. Every distant noise was a maddened gladiator, escaped from their cell and out for blood—anyone’s would do. Somehow, Angron had found a state of restfulness despite the Nails; not the prohi

Mortarion by MoreaGaara, literature

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Mortarion

On the one hand, Nurgle was smiling when Mortarion returned. On the other hand, Nurgle was always smiling. Mortarion knew better than to try and read real happiness into his patron’s expression; he had, after all, failed to either kill the resurrected Guilliman or bring him into Nurgle’s diseased fold. For his own part, Mortarion would have much preferred to simply return immediately to the Plague Planet he hadn’t bothered to name without spending any time in his patron’s garden, but long experience had taught him that he had better present himself. Especially after a failure. Mortarion drew a deep breath in throu

The Lion, Cyphered by MoreaGaara, literature

Literature

The Lion, Cyphered

Lion, are you awake? the other voice in his head asked. The voice that had no name but Cypher. In response to its question, however, Lion only stretched and sent a wave of affirmation towards the voice; he might be awake, but he didn’t feel like speaking. The Custodes didn’t let us in to see the Emperor, the voice was saying now. And Guilliman had us arrested. The Lion’s eyes opened—or felt like they had; the eyes of the body he and Cypher shared had already been open—and he looked at the other side of a powerful force field he had beheld only once before. When he had last seen it, there had been a monster

Guilliman by MoreaGaara, literature

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Guilliman

Guilliman watched the progress of the battle from his flagship. Occasionally he would issue orders, depending on how their current enemy—another force of Chaos-worshippers—was reacting. It was soothing, in a way, to watch the rhythm of the battle; this he understood. This was what he had lived for ten thousand years ago, and it was his favorite part about living now. Unfortunately, the battle was progressing so smoothly, he only needed to devote part of his attention to it. The rest of his mind could and did wander, and always circled back to the same question: why can’t I remember mom? By all accounts, the first time

The New Custodians by MoreaGaara, literature

Literature

The New Custodians

Constantine did not frequently get time to himself between the demands of being the Captain-General—by sheer dint of being the oldest and best among the Custodes—and the demands of representing the interests of the Custodians (and therefore the Emperor, imprisoned as he was) to the Council of Terra. To have an entire Terran day—a whole twenty-four hours—to himself was unheard of. Yet somehow, he had managed it, mostly by way of pointing out his successor was ready to get some first-hand experience. Horus, how could you? Constantine would never get his answer, and neither would the Emperor. Even if the Emperor unde

Daemon Hunter by MoreaGaara, literature

Literature

Daemon Hunter

One hundred of Jaghatai’s sons had followed after him into the Webway portal, chasing after the Dark Eldar who had enslaved his people. Jaghatai had hounded the group across the galaxy for seventy years, and over that time had freed most of his people and returned them home. But he took the oaths he had sworn seriously, and he refused to stop until these Dark Eldar were dead and he had their leader’s head on a pike to decorate his command chair on his flagship. One hundred White Scars had followed him into the Webway portal into the Dark Eldar section of the Webway snaking through the Immaterium. One hundred White Scars were n

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