She Who Thirsts

Designing EC

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‘Should we intervene?’ Ramos looked at the other Noise Marine. ‘To what end? We have our task, and it is a greater one by far. Let them wage their little war. We participate in a conflict larger than any of them could conceive of.’ He turned and cast his voice into the grove, shaping the wraithbone with it. Esquor and the rest of his brothers joined him, each singing to their own audience of roots and
winding branches. Their raucous dissonance caused the strange matter to spread like a cancer.

The wraithbone within them reverberated in sympathy with that growing through the hull, creating an exquisite feedback loop. The song never ceased, continually running through the solidified warp energy, filling the Kakophoni with its echoes. Around and around it went, redoubling itself with every circuit. The song perfected itself with every new note, becoming more what it must be. Soon, he and his brothers might even join with it, as their Choirmaster, Elian, had, so many centuries ago. He had sung them a path to the perfidious eldar, a path they still followed even now. Elian had been consumed by the song ,eaten from inside out by the power of it. The ursong. The Shattersong. The song that could crack a universe, or save it. A song of birth and death.

Slaanesh’s song, begun on the day of the Dark Prince’s conception, and sung continuously by select choirs, ever since. The aeldari had begun the song, and their ghosts still sang it, in the depths of the webway. But Ramos and his brothers had their parts as well. They added their voices to those of the dead, the lost and the damned, throughout the continuum of time. A universal choir, all singing in harmony with one another across the vast gulfs of existence, backwards and forwards. Singing the Dark Prince into existence at the beginning. Singing to ensure that he had always existed, and would always exist, at the end. They sang so that the sun might rise, and always have risen.

Without the song, Slaanesh might cease to be. And without Slaanesh, the song would never have been. Ramos could not conceive of such an absence, and his mind shied away from the enormity of it. Without the song, he would never have cracked the Lunar Gate. Without the song, Fulgrim would never have picked up the Laer Blade.Without the song, he might have been condemned to a lesser existence one more faceless warrior, among a Legion of such. One more forgotten death-yet-to-be. The swelling frustration of that impossible moment lent strength to his voice, and he thrust his gauntlets forward, the sonic emitters built into his palms blaring their discordant rhapsody. ‘I will not be chained. I will not be caged. I will not be a slave.’ His words hammered the air, urging his choir to greater efforts. ‘We will not fade away. We will sing. We will always have sung. We will be singing when the final curtain falls. Sing, my brothers. Sing!’
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Whatever you say design team
 
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You have the other 2 in the article warcom team


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Snek dad is no longer snek

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The spacemarine powerpack that's not on the Gilded Panoply needed to remain intact
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Duellists don't use guns so of course no Firebrand, they didn't give him a whip because of the epic model but because that's something they thought up to give him a ranged weapon

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A daemon face? For the daemon primarch? Why would you want that?

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I don't think a single person looked at this and thought ah yes the classical halo look

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So that's why his hair doesn't look very good
 
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