#By Graham McNeil

[incorrect-primarchs-quotes]

They be simping about fortresses 😭😭

#The skull harvest #By Graham McNeil #books excerpt #Iron warriors #warhammer

[minweber]

We all like to joke about how simple and shameless historic references in warhammer names usually are, but it wasn’t until I tried to honor this tradition by coming up with a name for an astronomer techpriest that I remembered that Linya and Vitali Tychon already exist and I never noticed. So I guess it was me who was simple after all.

#all jokes aside it is one of my favorite little Warhammer things #we really are all out there showcasing our best one-page-of-wikipedia-and-a-youtube-video historic knoweldge #and I think that's rad #warhammer #warhammer 40k #adeptus mechanicus #Forge of Mars #Graham McNeil #did you know that he is one of the lead writers at riot games these days? #surely must have been involved with Arcane at least a little bit #don't have a point here - just a fascinating bit of worlds colliding

[tragedybunny]

Angel Exterminatus

I'm so tired of this book. I just want it over with. I don't like Graham McNeil and this book is painfully long.

#fulgrim #perturabo #angel exterminatus #warhammwer 40k #horus heresy #warhammer 30k

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

So Riot Games closed down Forge, shat all over LoR, and fired their most famous writers (curios for 40k fans: Graham McNeil is on that list).

Just when there was room for careful optimism we can now assume that aside from the bit once every few years when an Arcane season drops that league-lore is dead.

It was already not in a good place to begin with but that sure does not look good in the long run. It's just so weird, like, no matter if you like McNeil as an author or not, going by his fame he's not the sort of caliber of writer that gets caught up in random cost-cutting layoffs. Unless of course they shut the entire section down and don't give a shit anymore about anyone writing anything.

#league of legends #riot games

[jellyfishinajamjar]

Man something needs to be said for media access in Warhammer. I’m making a medic themed loyalist Death Guard chapter, so my thoughts was ‘oh, I should probably read Flight of the Einstein, cause that’s basically my chapter’s founding myth’. Except it’s not for sale. Anywhere. You can buy a paper back on Amazon for 200 bucks or get an ebook or get fucked. Those are your options

So often in 40K you’ll read some cool bit of lore in a wiki article and you go ‘that sounds fucking awesome where can I read that?’ And then you look it up and it’s from an anthology book made available only in a limited run at the 2018 Horus Heresy Weekener convention and now its only available from GW as an mp3 file for $26.99 (yeah, I’m that pissed off that I can’t read The Ancient Awakens by Graham McNeil that I googled what fucking convention the paperback was exclusive to, it’s a good fucking story. Or it would be if I could FUCKING READ IT)

So yeah, it blows that I can’t get these books without a time machine. I want to have a library of books not some tablet that has books. I want to be able to loan them to my friends, I want to build a timeline on a shelf so I can judge when something happens in relation to the rest of the setting, I want to have annotated copies and be able to reference a piece of lore I half remembered cause I thought of a new idea for an army based on it. But no, for the vast majority of Warhammer fiction, unless it’s new or really popular it’s audio book, 200 buck scalper copy, or a pirated pdf. I want paper in my hands I want to look at my shelf and see all the good times I had reading I want to get contact memories touching old paper and remembering where I was in my life when I first read it I want physical paperback books. James Workshop please I’m willing to pay like an extra twenty bucks to get it made to order please. Please don’t let all this good writing languish in inaccessibility I want to give you money in exchange for goods James please

#jellyfish jams #media accessibility #warhammer #games workshop #black library

[violetbirdie]

Just finished Angel Exterminatus and throughly enjoyed it. I know a lot of Emperors Children fans on here hate how Graham McNeil writes them, but idk, I always find myself smiling through all his books with just how over the top everything is. Maybe it's because I'm audiobooking them, it makes it easier to just ignore parts I dislike. Don't get me wrong, I thought Lucius's and Marius's deaths were lame as hell. But every scene with Perturabo and Fulgrim just was an absolute delight. They hate each other so much, and I think Fulgrim being a manipulative little bitch was so fun. But I love characters like that, and Fulgrim is already above and beyond my favorite primarch. I think it's helped by the fact that we only get one scene from his pov and it features another ferrus based mental breakdown for him, so it's easy for me to just assume half of what he says is a lie to not only everyone else, but to himself as well.

Of course I do think fulgrim's primarch novel is still my favorite, and I need to still read the Fabius books. So I won't say McNeil is my favorite writer. But I have enjoyed his work more than some of the other Black Library writers I've gotten through so far.

#violet reads warhammmer books #Fulgrim #angel exterminatus

[mactiir]

so i recently finished "False Gods" and it literally made me so angry that I'm actually considering literally rewriting it so it doesn't suck. And I mean the whole thing. Just like. Patching the entire fall of Horus. Full shade on Graham Mcneil because I think I could do better.

#and you may ask yourself #was this really bad enough to commit to a 12 month fix it fic? #and the days go by #chaos flowing under #warhammer 40k #Horus heresy #black library #Wh40k #Wh40k fic #fix it fic #graham mcneill

[trazynstolemygender]

im so excited for that new emperors children renegades book! obviously i'll devour any ec content, hell i've even read the reflection crack'd, but it'll be nice to get some ec stuff written by someone who actually doesnt hate them. unlike mr graham "an androgynous man is the scariest thing ive ever seen" mcneil.

#like maybe no one will beat josh reynolds #but this one is by the guy who did a more perfect union and that was pretty good #his descriptions of the feast at the end and the gallery of paintings with people sewn into them give me hope #warhammer 40k #emperor's children

[gaunt-and-hungry]

A Wretched Star to Be Born Under

A sneak peak into the newest chapter coming out for Brine and Ice

Summary: Another Sledge Party returns from The Revenge, provisioning and supplementing The Terror. Heinrich deals with some unwanted sensations for the reverent Leftenant Irving. Tons of awkward tensions. Content Warnings: None Word Count So Far: 2,121 Name drop of Lillian McNeil of @ashton-slashton

“That would be Mr. Reiss then. Graham is with him,” Edward Little’s spyglass gave a pleasant ‘clink’ as it was snapped shut in the cold of his fingers.

“They’re late,” Erebus paced along the gunwale of the Terror, “But alive. Must count our blessings, Leftenant,” he assured. “I’ll report to the Captain.”

It was the third sledge party to make it back. Getting to the Revenge was easier than returning, laden down with the provisions and needs of the crew. A straight shot across the ice it took them just under a day to reach the sanctity of the Revenge. There was a shift in temperatures across the northern belts of floes that prickled the pack of waves that froze and thawed like clenching fists around the warm currents that trickled down from the north. This thaw and refreeze could only be seen once they reached the precipice of where The Revenge patrolled the furthest sheets, locked into her own harbour of frigid waters like a caged animal.

May was never this cold from what Erebus had recalled. He knew these waters but had never traversed these narrow shulks of waterways. He was not foolish enough to, though clearly he was foolish enough to wander out into such violently inhospitable reaches for the sake of others. Ross owed him, that was certain, and it took everything within his power to not hold any of the spite he felt for Ross against him as he, himself, was paving a way through the ice. Three and a half years they had been lodged in this hellscape, suffering the weight of lightless cold and hours of perpetual twilight that shook the skies with ribbons of fluorite and seafoam greens.

For all that the Frozen North held within its grasp, the end of the earth was closest here than it was anywhere else in the world. Stretches that maddeningly were endless and yawned anciently as if a perverted idea of purgatory had swallowed them whole occupied the eye. There was no wonder as to how they ended up in such clutches. But that mattered not. What mattered was the aching creaks and groans of the bodies of wood that threatened to cave like the ribs of a carcass snapping wide to bear open the welcome sight of her innards. When water began to pool beneath the hulls of the ships, everyone felt it. The canting was violent as the slick and supple lubrication of fluid against rutted wood. The search party that Erebus had lead was not met as welcomingly as he had anticipated. But a full belly with food that was not tainted with old lingering haunts of a poorly constructed tin had a tendency to shift the tone and mood of many. Consolidation on needs that would be most prevalent were carried with them.

“How did you find us?” was the first thing that he was asked as he warmed himself by the stove in the great cabin on Terror. He was given a teacup of coffee. Francis looked at him knowingly. It was hot and that was all that mattered. Some sort of unspoken understanding passed between them as if Francis had confirmed a suspicion he had even though they had met naught two hours prior for the first time in both of their lives.

“That is what I do.” He had replied candidly. “That is what I am good at.” he offered but then paused. “Lillian McNeil,” he finally spoke and confessed. “I know him. If I did not, well…” He shook his head. “I would have figured it out.”

There was an unspoken understanding between Captain Francis Crozier and Erebus, the two of them sharing a queer and mutual comprehension that seemed to exist both outside of the hulls of the ships and yet woven tightly betwixt the both of them like a thread. He had told the Captain, now Commander of the Expedition, that Ross had sent him. There was a hope that glimmered in Francis Crozier’s eyes when those words were spoken. Knowing that there was aid to be had from the other ship, though some miles between the two of them, had done something to Captain Crozier that had the man looking as if he had received the greatest news of his life. “Deus Ex Machina, aren’t ye?” He had said it with a laugh. Disbelief in his tone as he huffed out that exhale. “For what it's worth, lad, I’m glad you are here. I’m not a man that believes strongly in anything I cannot see with my own two eyes. But I can see you. And I believe you. And you are a right blessing.”

Something shifted inside Erebus. Something hideous had shifted that day when he met Francis Crozier for the first time. Something hideous cracked inside his body and began to leak an unknown warmth deep in the pits of his body. “I will get you out of here.” He promised solemnly. 

—

Whatever they had done to stave off the thing that was called Tuunbaq seemed effective enough. Though, knowing Heinrich, the thing was giving him the broadest berth that it could with the horrors that the man carried. Crew took over, eagerly following the barked orders of Leftenant Little and the rest of the team that came to gather their beloved crewmates inside the warmth of the belly of Terror, harbouring her young like a great beast in the hellscape that they were entrenched in.

He was beaming, quite proud, as he lingered to watch the swarm of midshipmen and alike unpack their sledge and usher the cold frigid and yet heaving hot bodies into the berth of their vessel. He watched as they swarmed like hungry ants for something that promised a next day and a proper meal. The sledge parties had gone without a hitch save for the storms that whipped viciously like an angry lashing through the barren tundra. The ever-white stretching on forever with little to shelter from hideously malicious winds could rip tents apart with the smallest of effort. For what it was worth, half catering to the directions of the other crew, they had managed to harbour safely along the ice flats that bore no topographical safety. They used the piled sledges to maintain a barrier between them and the direction of the wind, which seemed to sometimes change on a whim simply to spite the teams.

Most of their casualties were toes and, unfortunately, one pinky finger, the thing snapping right off like an iced-over twig in a much more familiar cold. Alas it was out of Heinrich’s control and far beyond the decency he would allot himself in this setting. He was there to keep the thing at bay and he did so quite well. The cluster of men were using what daylight they had, the hour late and dinner far for certain something that ought to have been underway by now. With all that they had brought it should last them a bit more still yet, supplementing their lack of proper sustenance that should have been adequate for their time already spent frozen in.

He examined the thaw happening about the hull of the ship, the water pooling a hideous hazard to the men as it would occasionally refreeze, pushing up and out in the flexing of the jaws of ice. Currently, it sat as a placid puddle about her body, several feet deep and so briney as to smell it on a stale day. It always reeked a bit of iron. He paid it no mind and consolidated his efforts in whittling away at whatever unusual force was causing such a malady in this inhospitable and desolate place. Even the indigenous folks were aware that something horrifically unusual was happening. There was no secret about that.

He was discrete, of course, and always was. But what he could not be discrete about was beginning to deeply rot inside of him like an infection. He mulled it over for a moment, the hideous machination that was bubbling up inside of him as he anticipated the source of the infection at any moment. Hodgson was off duty today. Which meant that surely it would come tapering down at any moment to provide the other Leftenant with much needed support in coordinating and organising the men. He was, after all, brilliant with maths.

“Mr. Reiss,” the voice had come from a direction that he was not anticipating it. He did not turn around. For he could not, his blood both simultaneously boiling and freezing over all in one fell swoop. He pretended to be occupied with something on his sleeve. He pretended to not notice. Finally, the voice was just beside him, behind him, far too close, far too pleasant, far too shaky in the cold. He wanted to fix that. And that, of all things, was a problem. “Mr. Reiss,” he called again, quieter. There was no need to shout in this proximity, after all.

His hips swayed as he turned but did not move where his feet planted; he smiled, fond and careful, charming as always, and a head taller, “Oh! Leftenant Irving. Nice of you to come. I have your manifests,” He pulled them from somewhere in his coat and handed them over, hands gloved in the finest of leather and fur that anyone aboard the ships had ever seen. They paled in comparison to anything that even Sir John Franklin would have possessed, damn and curse that man’s husk of a body. His jaw clenched as he watched Irving’s trembling hands accept the neatly bundled and tied parchments. His scarf had fallen loosely around his throat a little, exposing a bit of his throat as he looked up at Heinrich with a glimmer in his eye and a smile on his cracked lips. Heinrich wanted to vomit.

“Oh! Oh you are quite well with this all,” he spoke, his mittened hands fumbling with the folds of his greatcoat as he tucked them away hastily. “I m-must ask you,” his teeth began to chatter and Heinrich had half of a mind to shut him up right then and there, a visceral reaction coiling inside of him. “Would you be coming in and down for dinner? I’ve come to collect the lot of you two,” he gestured with a cant of his head to Little who was still coordinating the men, steps slick with fresh snowfall as they carefully team hauled crates and casks together. 

This surprised Heinrich for it was not what he was anticipating at all. He had been prepared to droll about the materials and foodstuffs. He was prepared to discuss the extra fabric and blankets and some other raw materials which could be of use in keeping the crews comfortable. He was prepared to discuss the numerical values of every minute detail down to its last ounce. He was not prepared for John Irving to invite him to dinner. “In the Wardroom? With the lot of you?” His wrist made a limp circle as if collecting every bit of command into that encasement of which he would then be a part.

“It is the least we can offer for such efforts and your…” he licked his lips and Heinrich did the same. He desired to yell at the younger man for such a thing. Useless it was to apply saliva to one’s lips in these conditions. He ought to pull his small round of a tin and dab the oily slick of a salve he had brought along and run his finger along those slightly parted lips. He was snapped out of his thoughts, “generosity. It would be quite pleasant for you to share a meal with me- Ah- with us.” He smiled mindfully then, the coldburn of his cheeks inflamed. 

“I could never deny your hospitality,” Heinrich’s feigned control was fitted to the small of his back as he tightly clenched his fists in a mock parade rest. He bent at the waist to masque the gesture as nothing more than simply courtesy. “I would delight in joining you for dinner, yes,” His accent was thick, his throat tight. 

The way that John Irving seemed to rise on the balls of his feet for a moment and then lower himself back down not once but twice gave Heinrich the impression of someone resisting the urge to flee and run from him. Yet he stayed himself, hands clasped behind his own back. “I will help finish this up here then, you ought to head in. You must be utterly chilled to the bones,” his smile never left his lips nor the tinge in his chilled cheeks. Heinrich felt fine.

#the terror #my writing #writing blog #the terror amc #oc: ere #oc: nemesis #oc: lily #original terror characters #the terror fanfic #the terror fanfiction

[piltover-sharpshooter]

//I think that what I hate the most about the bullshit sustainability excuse is like--

Ok let's all pretend we are souless exec who'd rather kick a baby than take a pay cut yes? Legends of Runeterra and Riot Forge aren't profitable so we are changing them/ killing them. Fine, money go up.

I don't believe for a SECOND that the cost of maintaining these two was so great you had to fire 500 people. League of Legends makes so much money I'm confident in saying Mythmaker Irelia alone could fund Legends of Runeterra for a year.

And also, why are a lot of the people that are let go creatives that seemingly aren't related to those suppposed failures? What does Riot Tart or Raptorr or Graham McNeil or ANYONE have to do with them?

'Not about pleasing shareholders' suck my ass.

#occ #screams into the void #godsdamn t

[hammer-of-olympia]

Talking about Honshou reminded me about my least favorite things in the Iron Warriors Omnibus.

Graham Mcneil keeps killing off my favorite Iron Warriors.

Forrix, former first captain and the closest Iron Warrior to Perturabo dies in Storm of Iron. I understand why, because Honshou can't lead if he's still there. But still...

And then there's Vull Bronn, who dies because... Honshou could trust him. He laments only being able to trust one of his men, so naturally he leaves the one man in his band he can trust to die.

#iron warriors

[incorrect-primarchs-quotes]

#Lmao #😭😭😭 #The skull harvest #By Graham McNeil #book excerpt

[frutiylaris]

Tumblr sisters and brothers, those in between and trapped within the tetrahedron for bad behaviour. In specific: 30K crowd, hello, hi! I'm gonna dirty this place a lil bit with my thoughts on the fucking GUY- THE MAN- SNAKE THING- Fulgrim. Going into both, Fulgrim: Palatine Phoenix and then Fulgrim: Visions of Treachery was my next deep delve into the funny fellas of 30K and the space marines. I set out with TWO goals and those were learning about the emperor's children and their primarch. And to some extent I did learn and educate myself, and I was pretty fond of the traitor legion afterwards. Now palatine phoenix? Good short novel that really honed in on what perfection means and the downsides, both visible and not visible until disaster strikes. A nice nod to the Phoenix schtick fulgrim has going on and is overall enjoyable, even if one of the space marines is named ABDEMON. Very silly. The Graham McNeil novel? No, just no. Perhaps I spoiled myself by thinking that "Ah yes, the primarch novel first makes sense," and that tainted my view on things, but even then, I have one major issue with the novel itself. The corruption of fulgrim and the emperor's children. Now I don't know if I'm missing something here or misread anything anywhere, but the corruption itself just happens. And by that, I mean there is no "Hmm, this is strange" and noticing that something is off or gradual build up, its just kind of, instantaneous? Fulgrim picks up the daemon sword and its just a fucking trainwreck from that point onwards like its the type of corruption you'd see in some hentai or anime or SOMETHING! He doesn't even fight back! Not a smidgen! And it pisses me off because- The fuck is the point of the corruption then??? Theirs nothing to corrupt from the outset was fulgrim always just a strange ass sexpest??? Like hello??? I liked pretty much everything in the book except him. The novel has his GOD DAMN NAME ON IT! AND HE DOESN'T EVEN GET A DECENT FALL TO CHAOS?! No abusing the perfection and slowly twisting the idea overtime to fall more and more in line with the excess of slaneesh. No its just- fucking god DAMN "Hm, I'm hearing my inner voice all of a sudden must be normal. Ah yes inner voice, I should sniff prometheium fumes and plot the death of my sons whom I'm proud of. Good idea me!"" I'm exaggerating obviously, but this was my takeaway and its made the book poor in my mind. Very weak in my opinion but at least I learnt where the noisemarines got their name from? Positive? Alright, I'll piss off now. See you in a few months when I inevitably write something fulgrim related in my Alternate horus heresy, bye bye!

#warhammer 30k #warhammer 30000 #fulgrim #primarch #horus heresy #emperors children

[nosetoons]

It's been a long-ass while since I did a digital drawing, or at least posted one.

This was a long overdue gift for probably my favorite artist (no exaggerating) on Weasyl and here, @cursedbeasts.

This is their design of Hirimau Dahan, a character from the Forges of Mars trilogy created by Graham McNeil. I've always loved their art, especially with Dahan involved (my favorites are probably about 40% of him).

TL;DR design was done by CursedBeasts, character entirely was actually done by Graham McNeil

#hirimau dahan #warhammer 40k #forges of mars #the nose

[beastofnurgle]

gf & I are reading A Thousand Suns rn and while a lot of it is good Graham McNeil just can't let a book go by without mentioning the swell of a woman's bossom or how a female character is so beautiful all the men want to "deflower" her or whatever

Graham. Graham! I'm just trying to read about space marines calm down already

I get it. you love when women bounce boobily down the stairs. You love to have a madonna/whore complex. I know.

But can you go be horned up somewhere else on your own time my god man

#graham mcneill #black library #the horus heresy #30k #books #the hobbyist speaks #40k #a thousand sons #charley

[soraka-in-warhammer40k]

Angelus Exterminatus by Graham McNeil

I think this one is the perfect example of what makes the Horus Heresy books unique: the book doesn't give a shit even if you have the outcome spoiled already. In most cases, people who are 20+ volumes deep into the series are aware of how things will end. The only question is the "how" and here's where a number of curious twists and developments come in.

We all know Fulgrim will achieve his goal - although the road to it was a lot more bumpy than he would have wished. We all know that Peturabo would make it out, albeit somewhat damaged in his health, and he draws the completly wrong conclusion from it. Like, he was so, so close to realize that all his traitor brothers were egomanical shitheads only caring for their own agenda, and his takaway is "alright, they all suck but HORUS will at least appreciate me" - which for one speaks of the man's maipulative capabilities but dang Perty you were SO close to getting it.

Generally this book is mostly about Peturabo and his boys, with the secondary role being the imperial remants of Istvan V trying to do something at least. There's also some Eldar fuckery on the side, indicating that the Heresy in its details was not entirely a human affair - but the true antagonists here are Fulgrim and the Emperor's Children.

The true genius of this book is that while Peturabo is a bitter, paranoid, strict, and all around unpleasant person to be around with, who's mood swings can get him to beat whatever poor soul just screwed up to death, he is the perfect vehicle to unload all that shittiness on those who deserve it - and oh boy do Fulgrim and his bois Fabulous Bill and Lucius the Walking Taunt Spell try their utmost hardest to deserve it.

Generally the Iron Warriors are uncompromising assholes, but you can't help by sympathize with them given the absolute insanity they need to put up with the Emperor's Children. One is a military formation following orders, the other is a bunch of insane chaos cultists. At least decision of the Iron Warriors to join Horus has a bit of rationality to it, they were entirely unaware of the warp-madness going on in the background by the time they picked a side.

Also: poor Forrix, that guy definetly did not deserve all the shit coming his way. Generally his three commanders are in bad spot, but he's had it so rough that even Peturabo internally in the end is like "wow, mood".

#40k book review tag so i find this later #wh40k #warhammer 40k #angelus exterminatus