“Leetu hurries to the body. It is laid out in a clumsy, disjointed sprawl, and the wounds upon it are appalling to see. Even so, Leetu reaches down and gently touches the bloody throat. There is no pulse, no heat. Sanguinius is cold and gone.”
Art by Richard Bagnall
“The others approach: Rogal, adorned in shining golden plate inlaid with chrome and amber, and Constantin, caparisoned in lacquered auramite. Behind them, the assembled host stands ready, four companies of the most superlative warriors the galaxy has ever known.”
By R. Bagnall
“I love all my brothers, but my love for Sanguinius is particular. I envy him. Does that sound strange? // He is… How can I put it? He is… impossible to hate. Have you met him? You must meet him. He will take your breath away.”
Art by Yeyouxingmeng
This is my own take on the Emperor of the Mankind, after drawing all the Primarchs, it was fair to draw the Emperor (full HD and no background here):
https://t.co/vlrVDawF63
That's all, folks!Thanks everyone!
#warhammer#warhammer40k#warhammer30k#horusheresy#horusheresylegions
“He turned, raising his arms, and took a god-machine’s weight on his shoulders. Every muscle in his body locked tighter than the iron trying to crush him. Drool stringed through his metal teeth, skinned knuckles white as he defied the will of a Titan.”
Art by @SalvaTrakalART
𝐋𝐨𝐫𝐠𝐚𝐫 𝐀𝐮𝐫𝐞𝐥𝐢𝐚𝐧 & 𝐂𝐲𝐫𝐞𝐧𝐞 𝐕𝐚𝐥𝐚𝐧𝐭𝐢𝐨𝐧
“Hello, Blessed Lady” the god’s son chuckled. She was just tall enough to reach his waist.
“I… I can see you” she almost laughed. “I can see your smile.”
Art by @SalvaTrakalART
“The Angel and the daemon meet in the air, beneath a sky the colour of blood, drawing breaths that taste of murder. The first impact of blade against blade is a metallic thundercrack while their sons wage war below, fighting and dying in the shadows of their fathers’ wings.”
He turns, and sees the Angel. The Bright Lord of Baal, head bowed and turned to the left, is crucified against the far wall. He hangs like an icon or relic, a sacred sigil to be worshipped and knelt before. His arms and wings are outstretched, his golden wargear dented and torn.
“He moves towards His son with the lustral wrath of a supernova. Horus comes to meet Him with the atrocifying hunger of a black hole. They clash, each landing blows simultaneously. The Old Four squeal in alarm, and then applaud. Father and son. This is between them now.”
“Lorgar felt ashamed. In his brother’s face he finally saw real hate, and in that moment he learned a lesson that had evaded him all these decades. Guilliman had never hated him before. // Guilliman hadn’t hated him. Not until now. This was hate.”