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Description

Power-armoured super-soldiers are always frightening opponents. His Most Exalted Eminence Theophrastus Brutallus Necromortis Fumblethwaite’s Imperial Praetorians are especially terrifying due to their hatred of all other life. Part of this is said to stem from years of harsh conditioning but those who have studied them more closely say it is an integral trait. The very first Praetorians looked like humans of Old Earth, but millennia of genetic enhancements made them larger, stronger, faster, tougher, more aggressive and thankfully sterile. A steady stream of volunteers from the galaxy’s most fetid basements (whose miserable inhabitants never got much anyway) kept their legions at full strength and massive suits of power armour augmented their fighting skills. Yet over time divisions emerged within this elite brotherhood. As armour became more advanced it threatened to make its wearers redundant. The Praetorians’ huge physiques took up space inside their suits that could have been devoted to stronger bionics, heavier plating, longer-lasting power reserves and more efficient life support systems. Giving each Praetorian an individually fitted suit slowed production rates, raised costs, and placed a great strain on logistics.

Some cultures might have turned to robots, but the Most Orthodox Arch-Magister Profundis Terminus Appendicitis' Consecrated Mandates forbade it. Two rival schools of thought emerged. Lord Ultimus Prolapse Marigold’s traditionalists argued the Praetorians were perfect and could not be improved. Lord Aurelius Decius Nupperglum’s radicals believed smaller Praetorians in suits no larger, but much stronger, than the armour then in use would make even better soldiers. Predictably, this led to war, and though it took 40,000 years, radical thought prevailed for the first and only time in the Praetorians’ long history. To those not so well versed in it, Praetorians now seem even bigger than their ancient ancestors, but their colossal suits conceal feeble limbless worm-like bodies that are little more than spinal cords. Only their heads still look human, though their thickened, flattened craniums, brows like castle machicolations, and fiercely pronounced lower jaws follow the classic Imperial mould. Though rank-and-file Praetorians sensibly wear helmets in battle, high-ranking leaders often forgo them, making them favourite targets for snipers, pimply kids with stones and bottles, stinging insects, etc. Many renowned champions have uttered the last words “Curse these mosquitoes!” before crushing their skulls with their own massive fists.

Description

Power-armoured super-soldiers are always frightening opponents. His Most Exalted Eminence Theophrastus Brutallus Necromortis Fumblethwaite’s Imperial Praetorians are especially terrifying due to their hatred of all other life. Part of this is said to stem from years of harsh conditioning but those who have studied them more closely say it is an integral trait. The very first Praetorians looked like humans of Old Earth, but millennia of genetic enhancements made them larger, stronger, faster, tougher, more aggressive and thankfully sterile. A steady stream of volunteers from the galaxy’s most fetid basements (whose miserable inhabitants never got much anyway) kept their legions at full strength and massive suits of power armour augmented their fighting skills. Yet over time divisions emerged within this elite brotherhood. As armour became more advanced it threatened to make its wearers redundant. The Praetorians’ huge physiques took up space inside their suits that could have been devoted to stronger bionics, heavier plating, longer-lasting power reserves and more efficient life support systems. Giving each Praetorian an individually fitted suit slowed production rates, raised costs, and placed a great strain on logistics.

Some cultures might have turned to robots, but the Most Orthodox Arch-Magister Profundis Terminus Appendicitis' Consecrated Mandates forbade it. Two rival schools of thought emerged. Lord Ultimus Prolapse Marigold’s traditionalists argued the Praetorians were perfect and could not be improved. Lord Aurelius Decius Nupperglum’s radicals believed smaller Praetorians in suits no larger, but much stronger, than the armour then in use would make even better soldiers. Predictably, this led to war, and though it took 40,000 years, radical thought prevailed for the first and only time in the Praetorians’ long history. To those not so well versed in it, Praetorians now seem even bigger than their ancient ancestors, but their colossal suits conceal feeble limbless worm-like bodies that are little more than spinal cords. Only their heads still look human, though their thickened, flattened craniums, brows like castle machicolations, and fiercely pronounced lower jaws follow the classic Imperial mould. Though rank-and-file Praetorians sensibly wear helmets in battle, high-ranking leaders often forgo them, making them favourite targets for snipers, pimply kids with stones and bottles, stinging insects, etc. Many renowned champions have uttered the last words “Curse these mosquitoes!” before crushing their skulls with their own massive fists.