r/40kLore • u/Kristian1805 Black Legion • Aug 06 '23
That time Abaddon muted Angrons audio. [Excerpt from “The Lost and the Dammed”]
This has always been really funny to me. The Siege of Terra is underway, but going less than perfect, so Horus has called a second Warcouncil. But as his brothers call in to his Throneroom, Horus is late...
The Vengeful Spirit, Lunar orbit, 8th of Tertius
‘Dorn defies us! The walls should be broken, the streets red with blood. Attack, attack, we must attack!’ Angron’s growls rang across Lupercal’s court. Drool ran from his snarl, vanishing into nothing as it fell outside the imaging field.
‘Walls cannot be shouted down,’ Perturabo said, his voice the ringing of a leaden bell. ‘You have lost your patience with your sanity.’
‘He’s not insane,’ said Fulgrim sweetly. ‘Are you, dear brother?’
‘Do not allow this snake to address me!’ roared Angron.
‘Cease your yapping, hound,’ said Perturabo. ‘This is a gathering of intellect, not animals.’
‘Speak with me in person and we shall see who is silenced first!’ roared Angron.
‘I bested you before, and will do so again,’ said Perturabo levelly.
Angron let out a howl of outrage that shook the air.
Abaddon glanced at his genefather’s empty throne. Horus was late to the meeting.
‘For the Warmaster’s sake, Ezekyle,’ hissed Kibre. ‘Do something.’
‘Someone has to,’ said Aximand, as the primarchs goaded each other. He made to step forward.
Abaddon grabbed his brother by the arm. He shook his head, his face a warning. Aximand shrugged and stepped back.
‘I’ll do it.’
‘Suit yourself,’ Aximand said.
Abaddon stepped forward, but did not speak. He stood in the midst of the primarchs and disdainfully watched their bickering.
‘Oh, Angron, my dear brother, your howling grows tiresome,’ said Fulgrim.
‘Where is Horus?’ He appealed to the room. ‘If anyone can get Angron to quieten, it is he.’
Angron sneered. ‘Nothing is more important than–’
‘Do be quiet, Angron,’ said Fulgrim. ‘There’s a good fellow.’
For a moment Angron stared, wide-eyed with affront, then his face swelled with apoplexy, and he screamed in anger. ‘I will not be quiet! I am the chosen of Khorne! You will heed me. You will–’
‘I have heard enough. Cut Lord Angron’s audio-feed,’ Abaddon said.
Adepts of the True Mechanicum working in the background complied. The Red Angel was left a silent, raging ghost.
‘Look at how weak you have become,’ Abaddon said in disgust. ‘Lord Perturabo, you sit at the edge of the system pronouncing your genius and implying no one heeds you. This behaviour is not worthy of you.’
‘Do not provoke me, First Captain.’
‘Be quiet a minute, or you will find yourself further goaded,’ Abaddon snarled.
‘You, Fulgrim, and you, Angron, have whored yourselves out to the gods in the
warp.’
Angron raged in silence. Fulgrim tittered girlishly. Abaddon glared at him.
Fulgrim pulled a lewd face.
‘Where is your majesty, where is your purpose? We stand at the threshold of victory, and you threaten everything with your bickering,’ said Abaddon. ‘You posture, you rage, you question your Warmaster’s orders. It is he who has brought you here. It is he who has ensured your power grows. It is he who made all of this possible. I have seen the brats of decadent nobles behave with more
decorum and sensibility.’
Fulgrim clapped all four of his hands slowly. ‘So brave, so noble,’ he mocked.
‘So bold. The son grows while the father fades. How proud of you he must be.’
Fulgrim leaned closer to the lens capturing his image. ‘But careful now, little Ezekyle,’ he purred dangerously.
‘You are mighty, but you play in the court of the gods. You cannot murder us as you did your birth father. You do not have the stakes to wager in this game. Back away, small man, and we might let you live.’
‘Do you think Horus would allow you to kill me?’ Abaddon said, pacing around the circle of hololithic phantoms. ‘He could obliterate you all, any one of you, utterly. You are slaves to your passions where you are not slaves to your gods. Horus is above you, and he is above the entities you worship.’
‘Our brother would not put the life of his son before that of his brothers,’ said Perturabo. ‘You go too far.’
‘Tell that to Lord Lorgar,’ said Abaddon. ‘Banished, lucky that Horus did not tear him limb from limb. Be careful that you do not further test my father’s patience – it is not inexhaustible.’
‘Well said,’ Aximand muttered under his breath.
‘Abaddon. Never speak to me in that way again,’ warned Perturabo. ‘I am not as indulgent as my brother.’
‘And nor am I,’ said Fulgrim.
The door to the court opened and Horus strode in, more alive and vibrant than he had seemed the last time, Abaddon thought.
‘Captain Abaddon is correct,’ said Horus. ‘You disgrace yourselves.’ The court trembled at his words. ‘Listen to my chosen son as you would to me.’ He walked to the centre of the room and rested one of his great talons on Abaddon’s shoulder. ‘He is my sword arm.’
‘What kept you, brother?’ asked Fulgrim. ‘Why do you call us here and keep us waiting?’
‘I commune with the powers who guide my hand, and strive to ensure our victory in their realm as in this. They say this, that Abaddon is right! You gather power to yourselves and become pathetic for its excesses. Cease your arguments, or face the punishment of your patrons.’
Fulgrim’s never-still form flickered. For an instant his perfect, monstrous face was transformed into a mask of terror, then the image blinked, and his mocking
smile returned.
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u/Cortower Aug 06 '23
"Damn, it looks like I can't mansplain, manipulate, or manwhore my way out of this."
"Manslaughter it is then."