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And lo did Fabius Bile present his clone of Great Horus to Abaddon, he who would be the Despoiler.

And Abaddon did blush, and he spake his mind. “I don’t like men with too many muscles.”

And Fabius did glare at the new Warmaster, and declared in anger. “I didn’t make him for YOU!”

— Epistle 32895742535 of Lorgar (I’m Just A Sweet Apothecary)

(via warhammer40kdatabase)

And lo did Great Horus contemplate his life and choices, for his lieutenants were all balls-to-the-wall fucking crazy, and so he searched for comfort with his brother Fulgrim, whose wise counsel had guided him through the years.

And Fulgrim had replied between snorts of warp dust, ‘I’ve found that a good fisting solves attitude issues.’

And Great Horus did not ask for advice ever again.

— Epistle 39550666969 of Lorgar (Death Is Nothing Compared To A Couple Hours With The Emperor’s Children)

(via warhammer40kdatabase)

And the Primarch of the twentieth Legion stood forth and said, “I am Alpharius.”

And a legionnaire stood forth and proclaimed, “No, I am Alpharius!”

And a rememberancer jumped from his seat, and called out, “No! I am Alpharius!”

And the Magos of the Adeptus Mechanicus banged one of his many arms on the conference table, and spake thusly, “The unit that calls itself Magos Derreom, serial number 500001123BW45846 is obliged to inform you that it is Alpharius.”

And Lorgar facepalmed.

And the cleaning lady looked up and whispered under her breath, where no one could hear. “I’m Alpharius.”

— Epistle 3096112 of Lorgar (The Forbidden Works)

(via warhammer40kdatabase)

And lo, the Emperor’s Children commanders awoke Fulgrim from his slumber.

And Fabius, who was the wisest, spoke: “Who are you, demon?”

And Fulgrim, freed from his shackles of possession replied, “It’s Britney, bitch.”

And the Emperor’s Children rejoiced, and wept tears of joy, for their Primarch had joined them once more.

— Epistle 69 of Lorgar (cont’d)

(via warhammer40kdatabase)