[Horus Heresy] The Primarchs

---§ THE PRIMARCHS §---

Family get-togethers: they don’t usually go down in history as epic events that shape the fate of the galaxy. Unless, of course, your brothers happen to be the most powerful beings known to man.

This is Neil Roberts’ artwork for the forthcoming Horus Heresy: The Primarchs anthology. This is the first time that many of these Primarchs have been depicted in such detail; take a closer look at some of the stunning details.

In tomorow’s blog, Neil will be talking about the process of creating this awesome artwork.

As to which Primarchs feature in the anthology itself, and who the authors will be, those is still closely guarded secrets, but as soon as the Sigillite gives the word, we’ll get more details to you

You can order posters of some of Neil’s other Horus Heresy covers here.

==> THE PRIMARCHS The story Created in the Emperor’s own image, the primarchs had long thought themselves to be princes of the universe and masters of their own destiny – they led the Space Marine Legions in glorious conquest of the galaxy, and no enemy of the Imperium could stand against them. However, even amongst this legendary brotherhood, the seeds of dissent had been sown long before the treacherous Warmaster Horus declared his grand heresy. About the book Gathered within this anthology are four novellas focusing on some of the mightiest warriors and leaders that mankind has ever known – Fulgrim, Lion El’Johnson, Ferrus Manus and Konrad Curze – and the roles that they may have yet to play in a war which threatens to change the face of the Imperium forever. June 2012 • ISBN 9781849702072 Edited by Christian Dunn[/quote] Créés à l'image même de l'empereur, les Primarques ont longtemps pensé eux-mêmes être des princes de l'univers et maîtres de leur propre destin - ils ont mené les Légions de Space Marines dans la glorieuse conquête de la galaxie, et aucun ennemi de l'Imperium ne pouvait tenir contre eux. Cependant, même parmi cette confrérie légendaire, les graines de la dissidence avaient été semées longtemps avant la traîtrise de la grande Hérésie déclarée par le Maître de guerre Horus. Réunis au sein de cette anthologie, quatre novellas se concentrant sur certains des plus puissants guerriers et leaders que l'humanité ait jamais connu - Fulgrim, Lion El'Johnson, Ferrus Manus et Konrad Curze - et les rôles qu'ils peuvent avoir encore à jouer dans une guerre qui menace de changer le visage de l'Imperium pour toujours. Contenu du recueil de novellas : - The Reflection Crack’d de Graham McNeill - Feat of Iron de Nick Kyme - The Lion de Gav Thorpe - The Serpent Beneath de Rob Sanders

Horus Lupercal a écrit: Il est judicieux de tisser des relations amicales avec d'autres forums, ne serait-ce que pour ce faire connaître.

PS : les images proposées ici ont été postés hier, de façon un peu sibylline et inexpliquée, dans le topic Wharhammer 40K (collection d'images diverses).

Arch Imaginer Neil Roberts lays down his paintbrush and picks up pen today to write us a guest blog about his stunning primarchs artwork.

Okay, I happily admit it - I love Warhammer 40,000.

I have done since, with my own pocket money, I bought a copy of Rogue Trader at Beatties Toy Shop, Milton Keynes way back in 1987. I read, re-read and re-read over and over again that rulebook, months before I even bought a miniature to paint and play. The artwork and background was what immediately hooked me - all incredibly potent fuel to a fervent young imagination.

Nowadays I try to distil that knowledge and respect for the world of 40K (or should that be 30K?) into my book covers. With each cover I’m trying to produce an image as striking and jaw-dropping as John Sibbicks’ cover to that first rulebook.

And sometimes, that means I get to draw Primarchs for a living.

The cover brief for The Primarchs was to illustrate a key moment at the Parade of Ullanor where Horus has a quiet word with Fulgrim. So, knowing what I did about Ullanor, I had to have the parade in the image somewhere, but I didn’t want to have to paint millions of troops and thousand of craft. The Primarchs were to be the focus of the image and the parade would form the backdrop.

The Titan swung its weapons towards Lucius. The engine was wasting its strength coming for a single warrior, but it had seen him atop its fallen twin and had marked him for death.

Lucius knew he could not fight such a powerful enemy, and turned to run, but before he had taken a single step, the angelic outline of a warrior on wings of gold dropped from the smoke. He bore a flint-knapped blade in one hand and a long-barrelled pistol worked in silver and onyx in the other. His stark white hair flew around his glorious features as the heat bleeding from the Titan’s reactor washed over him.

‘One for me, I think, Lucius,’ said Fulgrim, levelling his pistol at the battle engine.

Fulgrim shot with the calm poise of a duellist on a misty heath. A shining spear of incandescent light imbued with the heat of a newborn star spat from the gun and struck dead centre on the Titan’s shields. A shrieking flare of overload banged like a host of shattering mirrors and a powerful sphere of energy pulsed out like a solar flare.

Lucius was hurled from his feet and hit hard against one of the towering crystal spires at the edge of the facility. Pain sawed up and down his back, and he grinned as he tasted blood.

Even through a haze of smoke and pain he saw what happened next with complete clarity.

Fulgrim stood alone before the war machine, his pistol cast aside and his sword held loosely at his side. The Titan’s auto-loaders ratcheted canisters of shells around from its rear hoppers, and the breeches snapped shut on a fresh load. Fulgrim’s free hand reached up to the battle engine, as though demanding it halt its march.

Lucius laughed at the absurdity of the gesture.

But Fulgrim intended more than simple defiance.

A shimmering nimbus of misty light gathered around the Phoenician, its substance shot with threads of barely visible lightning. Fulgrim’s splayed fingers closed into a fist and he twisted his grip as though tearing at unseen ropes.

The battle engine halted in its rampage, the cockpit snapping up and its weapon arms jerking spasmodically as though the machine was suffering a hideous seizure. Fulgrim’s outstretched hand continued pulling and twisting at the air, and the Titan’s war horn brayed with plaintive horror. The cockpit panes shattered, spraying glass tears to the ground as it slumped back onto its hissing legs.

Lucius watched with horrified fascination as bulging wads of oozing flesh pushed their way out of the cockpit, swelling and pulsating with grotesque life. The gelatinous mass of expanding meat obscured the mastiff head, drooling from the armoured carapace in raw pink tendrils of mutant flesh.

Lucius rose to his feet, awed and wondrously horrified at the death of the battle engine. Amniotic fluid fell in a drizzle from the Titan’s ruptured body, its every orifice and exhaust port choked with monstrous growths of rampant flesh culled from its mortal crew. The stench was appalling, and Lucius breathed deeply, savouring the reek of burned meat that was already beginning to decay.

He approached Fulgrim as the primarch gathered up his fallen pistol.

‘What did you do?’ asked Lucius.

Fulgrim turned his dead black eyes upon him and said, ‘A little something I learned from the forces that empower me. A trifle, nothing more.’

Un ou des volontaires pour en faire une traduction ?

The Titan swung its weapons towards Lucius. The engine was wasting its
strength coming for a single warrior, but it had seen him atop its
fallen twin and had marked him for death.

Lucius knew he could
not fight such a powerful enemy, and turned to run, but before he had
taken a single step, the angelic outline of a warrior on wings of gold
dropped from the smoke. He bore a flint-knapped blade in one hand and a
long-barrelled pistol worked in silver and onyx in the other. His stark
white hair flew around his glorious features as the heat bleeding from
the Titan’s reactor washed over him.

‘One for me, I think, Lucius,’ said Fulgrim, levelling his pistol at the battle engine.

Fulgrim
shot with the calm poise of a duellist on a misty heath. A shining
spear of incandescent light imbued with the heat of a newborn star spat
from the gun and struck dead centre on the Titan’s shields. A shrieking
flare of overload banged like a host of shattering mirrors and a
powerful sphere of energy pulsed out like a solar flare.

Lucius
was hurled from his feet and hit hard against one of the towering
crystal spires at the edge of the facility. Pain sawed up and down his
back, and he grinned as he tasted blood.

Even through a haze of smoke and pain he saw what happened next with complete clarity.

Fulgrim
stood alone before the war machine, his pistol cast aside and his sword
held loosely at his side. The Titan’s auto-loaders ratcheted canisters
of shells around from its rear hoppers, and the breeches snapped shut on
a fresh load. Fulgrim’s free hand reached up to the battle engine, as
though demanding it halt its march.

Lucius laughed at the absurdity of the gesture.

But Fulgrim intended more than simple defiance.

A
shimmering nimbus of misty light gathered around the Phoenician, its
substance shot with threads of barely visible lightning. Fulgrim’s
splayed fingers closed into a fist and he twisted his grip as though
tearing at unseen ropes.

The battle engine halted in its rampage,
the cockpit snapping up and its weapon arms jerking spasmodically as
though the machine was suffering a hideous seizure. Fulgrim’s
outstretched hand continued pulling and twisting at the air, and the
Titan’s war horn brayed with plaintive horror. The cockpit panes
shattered, spraying glass tears to the ground as it slumped back onto
its hissing legs.

Lucius watched with horrified fascination as
bulging wads of oozing flesh pushed their way out of the cockpit,
swelling and pulsating with grotesque life. The gelatinous mass of
expanding meat obscured the mastiff head, drooling from the armoured
carapace in raw pink tendrils of mutant flesh.

Lucius rose to his
feet, awed and wondrously horrified at the death of the battle engine.
Amniotic fluid fell in a drizzle from the Titan’s ruptured body, its
every orifice and exhaust port choked with monstrous growths of rampant
flesh culled from its mortal crew. The stench was appalling, and Lucius
breathed deeply, savouring the reek of burned meat that was already
beginning to decay.

He approached Fulgrim as the primarch gathered up his fallen pistol.

‘What did you do?’ asked Lucius.

Fulgrim
turned his dead black eyes upon him and said, ‘A little something I
learned from the forces that empower me. A trifle, nothing more.’

Horus Lupercal a écrit: Roboutte pour ce petit job.

Emperor a écrit:Euh on parle de quel genre de Titan ?
Parce qu'il me paraît un peu trop über le Fulgrim là.

Darkness a écrit:

Emperor a écrit:Euh on parle de quel genre de Titan ?
Parce qu'il me paraît un peu trop über le Fulgrim là.

Dois-je rappeler que dans le roman qui porte son nom Fulgrim se cogne un avatar de Khaine à mains nues ?
Alors über ou pas über l'albinos efféminé ?
C'est pas un titan qui va lui faire peur.