Feral World Religion

A hilarious piece of writefaggotry posted on /tg/ by an anon about an isolated feral world and their interesting spin on the Imperial Cult.

On an even-more-hilarious meta-level, they totally forgot Ferrus Manus, which is funny whether or not it was intentional.

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The feral worlder led the Sisters into the temple. Sister Superior Helena was relieved to see it was in relatively good condition- however backwards this planet might be, at least it had kept up its worship. Admirable, really, in a world that had not been contacted by the Imperium since the Salamanders had made a stop shortly after the Horus Heresy. Whatever her thoughts on the Astartes, they'd at least managed to impress these savages with the creed.

"Here," the feral worlder said, pointing at a series of crude paintings inside the temple. Or perhaps crude was the wrong word- primitive, yes, but obvious effort had been put into them. They would not compare with the stained glass or sacred paintings of an Imperial convent, but their bright colors and symbols were certainly eye-catching.

"Tells all the story. Known it since I was a babe." The feral worlder seemed proud, or else simply eager for the approval of the strange women with fire-spitting wands.

"Tell us, then," prompted Sister Helena. The feral worlder nodded, grinning, and pointed to the largest picture. It showed a man dressed in animal hides made of gold, sitting upon a chair that towered over a tiny village painted in the background.

"Emp-Rar," she explained.

"Emp-Rar?"

"King Emp-Rar, of the village Terra. Powerful magician, made himself god."

"Magician?" explained Sister Isabella, her face contorted with fury. "That's heres-"

Sister Helena cut her off with a look. She might normally have agreed with Isabella's assessment, but the feral worlder hadn't seemed to mean anything chaos-related by the word. Besides, until their rescue ship arrived, they were stuck on this barbaric little rock and would have to save their ammunition for true emergencies.

"Go on."

The feral worlder pointed to another picture.

>ourfaceswhen.jpg

"Betrayed by his son, the Horse."

The Sisters looked at the picture, which indeed showed a very evil looking horse. Trying not to laugh, they silently noted that it did have lots of spiky bits painted on it.

"Other sons fight the Horse, even though-" her voice dropped to a frightened hush- "the Gill Man came to take away their manhood with the Coat of Stars!"

Any confusion on the part of the Sisters was answered by the painting of the Gill Man, a large, scaly monster dressed in a starry coat with scissors on the end. Or rather, it was answered by the fact that the scales on his chest were blue and displayed the Ultramarines symbol.

"Yes," whispered Sister Rosalind, "this story was definitely told by the Salamanders."

The feral worlder moved on to the next series of paintings, each with a symbol that suggested a different Primarch.

"The Great Green One," she said reverently. "Knew the secrets of Fire and Steel. Refused to let the Gill-Man take his manhood."

Sister Rosalind suppressed a giggle, deciding that the next time she saw the Salamanders she would call them Great Green Ones. They'd kill her for it, but it would be worth it.

"The Angel," came the feral worlder's voice, pointing at the next painting. "Emp-Rar's beautiful daughter." Indeed, the golden-haired woman in the painting was remarkably beautiful, her body barely covered by a sheer piece of cloth, her blue eyes large and sad as she wept tears of blood.

"Was there a female Primarch?" Sister Ophelia hissed excitedly. "I never learned about her!"

"Don't ask," replied Sister Helena. With any luck, the Blood Angels would never end up visiting this planet.

"One son was a wall."

"You mean, built a wall?"

"Was a wall. Emp-Rar's concubines gave birth to a great wall to protect him. Wall called Dorn."

"I'm really pretty sure this is heresy..." groaned Sister Isabella.

The feral worlder looked at them suspiciously. "Priestesses of Emp-Rar should know the story. Why so many questions?"

Sister Helena smiled, doing her best to convey smug superiority. "We merely wish to see how well you know your history. Memorized speeches are all well and good, but it doesn't mean much if you can't explain in detail."

The feral worlder seemed a bit embarrassed at that. Her head bowed, she pointed to three smaller paintings.

"Other sons, Great Green Ones say are not important, but we put them up here anyway. Important to know history. The Raven-" she pointed to a painting of a large black bird, his wings spread, giving what looked like a murderous glare to the other paintings- '"The Man with the White Scar-" this painting showed what appeared to be a man riding a horse made of steel, a primitive attempt at understanding the concept of an attack bike- "and Bad Angel. Great Green Ones not talk about Bad Angel, though. They say he brings bad luck to those who knew too much."

"They would," commented Sister Mariana. "And I think the Great Green Ones seem to have been a little bitter over Guilliman's backers. Are there any they did say were important?"

The feral worlder beamed at her.

"Wolf-Man. Along with Great Green One, refused to lose his manhood to the Gill-Man's coat of stars." With that, she pointed to the final painting on the temple walls.

The painting showed a huge barbarian, naked from the waist up. Over one shoulder was slung a woman, who looked as if she wasn't quite sure whether or not to be upset by her impending ravishment. In the other hand, he wielded a giant tanker of mead, using it to crush his opponents while taking a healthy drink from it himself.

"Well," said Sister Helena after a moment's pause, "at least they got one right."