899. M40,
By this year, 182 years had passed since Hogg escaped Slaanesh's Mickey Mouse Clubhouse, and 10,732 years had passed since the Horus Heresy.
Sitting on his leather sofa, Hogg suddenly felt a little tired. It wasn't physical exhaustion or mental strain. He just felt like he ought to take a bit of a rest.
During the Horus Heresy, he had fought tooth and nail, and the Blackwatch had been reduced to a fraction of its former strength. The Imperium had still turned into the same old cesspit, and Old Man Yellow had been stuck on the toilet for over ten thousand years, but at least things were far better than that original dark fate.
After the Heresy ended, Slaanesh had kidnapped him. It was a little embarrassing, but he wasn't a coward! He'd gone toe-to-toe with Slaanesh for ten thousand years, cutting the Chaos threat to the Imperium by at least a quarter. That was a monumental contribution. Every intelligent species ought to kneel and thank him.
During that time, his good brother Guilliman had made one blunder after another, but within three thousand years of the Heresy, he and the other Primarchs had still ushered in a golden age for the Imperium, allowing it to build up a decent stockpile to weather the eight dark, ignorant millennia that followed.
Through the porthole, Hogg could see the shadow of his own pitch-black tentacles looming above the Blacklight, like silky hair waving in the breeze as they hunted Warp locals who had strayed into the Webway.
He didn't need to eat deliberately, nor did he have to lie stupidly in front of a star and gorge himself like a C'tan. Through the pitch-black shadow he projected into the Warp, Hogg feasted on sustenance far more delicious than stellar radiation.