"My brother, your flagship is burning. Are you sure you won't return?"
On the bridge of the Truth's Law, Lorgar stood shoulder to shoulder with Angron. The Nucerian was far more powerfully built, like one of the Titan giants from ancient Terran myth.
Yet his face seemed forever twisted by pain. The vile devices known as the Butcher's Nails had been driven deep through his skull.
In response to Lorgar's question, Angron casually waved a hand. He glanced back at his honor guard, the Devourers, with complete indifference.
"They're merely weak trash. The Ultramarines are making their final counterattack. If they can't even stop such an assault, then they have disappointed me as always."
Lorgar could sense the dejection of the World Eaters standing silently by the bridge doors.
Their genetic father had never spared his sons a second glance. In the Nucerian's eyes, they were scarcely more noble than lowly mortal slaves.
Angron, raised on the warped world of Nuceria, had long since formed equally warped beliefs.
"I'll go and crush those irritating pests myself. Only slaughter and blood can ease my Butcher's Nails for a while. They're buzzing inside my head. I can feel them boring deeper. The vile gift those High Riders gave me has tormented me for decades."
"But I am still grateful for this damned pain. It has made me remember my brothers and sisters. We swore to live and die together. We fought for freedom until death. We laughed as we made those damned slavers pay in blood."
"We were trapped in Nuceria's mountains. My brothers and sisters survived on my blood, and at the very end, I fled. I fled shamefully."
The Nucerian's soul had always remained in his homeland. He cared nothing for the sons constantly dying on the battlefield.
To him,