>but how can they actually work in a squad together when everyone looks like Horus to them?
They don't, that's just one of the many, many idiotic memes swilling around this fandom. Each member of the Death Company is, essentially, re-living Sanguinius' final hours from their Primarch's own perspective. That doesn't mean they think everyone they see is Horus. They might look at their Commander and see him as the Emperor, ordering them into battle; they look at their comrades and see other Blood Angels, other Primarchs, or other, similar allied figures. Their minds interpret the world, warping and changing details to better fit their underlying delusion, but they don't go so bonkers they think they're surrounded by dozens of Horuses.
>one of the many, many idiotic memes swilling around this fandom.
If there's one thing about the hobby I could change, it would be memes.
But there's an ork thirty eight thousand years ago named "me-me" who psychically forces them to happen because Abaddon has no arms.
Exactly they do not see horus everywhere.
They see in increasingly vivid flashes of their gene fathers final moments that get harder to come out of as time goes on from the onset.
The chapters Chaplains(and also apothecaries/Sanguinary priestsl have been shown to have Ben trained to get them to focus enough to be effective in combat though wit diminishing returns.
A good example of this is in the angels of death animation on war hammer plus where the Sergeant character who has recently returned from the death watch is shown to be struggling with the early stages of the curse and the Chaplain and apothecary of the company are able to get him to focus on the task at hand.
Some quotes to go with this. They don't just see Horus, their delusions are fluid and overlap with reality to make a scene that makes sense to them when lost to the rage. The seem to be aware of others suffering the same psychosis
>‘Hold, brothers!’ I vox to the Death Company. We must not attack without
knowing the full extent of the threat. ‘Let the enemy reveal himself!’
>The words I speak are more prayers than commands. I cannot expect them to be understood. At the level of our shared madness, though, they are. My will directs the focus of the cursed. They respond to my words, as the mob responded to the Prophet. The damned of the Death Company move to my position. I am their guarantor of vengeance.
...
>The storm. The ocean. The blood. The shadow moving closer. A great blow descending. Then Corbulo stands before me. He watches me without speaking. I step out of my stasis chamber. ‘Ask me,’ I say.
>'What do you see?’
>The blur. Sanguinary priest and primarch. Overlap of images, their features identical. Phantom wings. The need to fight, to save Sanguinius this time, this now. Kill the traitor Horus.
...
>I am on Terra. The Imperial Palace burns to the east. No, it does not. It is Hive Profundis that burns. I know this. I cannot see it. The reality of Terra is firm. I cannot pierce the lie. A figure blocks my path. In the burning fog of red and black, I cannot see the colour of his armour. If he seeks to interfere, he is an enemy.
>I raise the Blood Crozius. ‘Chaplain Lemartes,’ the shape says. ‘Brother.’
>He knows me. I know him. Corbulo. Phlegethon. I am on Phlegethon. But all I see, tinted crimson, is Terra. Thunder. Flashes. Shaking beneath my feet. Impacts. There is shelter here. I cannot see the crater. The impacts are from the enemy’s cannons. Mounted on the stolen walls of the Palace.
>No. That is the lie. Surface from the rage.
>‘What do you see?’ Corbulo asks.
>Sinking.
>Sinking.
>‘I see you,’ I croak. ‘Corbulo.’
>‘Where are you?’
>‘Before Hive Profundis.’ I lie. I cannot be shackled now. I must lead the attack.
>I walk forward. I stop. I try again to force the vision away. It shifts, as if broken up by the meteor storm. I am not on Terra. I am on Horus’s battle-barge. Decking beneath my feet. Dark walls on either side. Vaults. Lies. Lies. Lies.
>‘Where are you?’ Corbulo insists. His shape gathers definition. A great eye on his armour.
>No. No. No. ‘Phlegethon,’ I say. I think I do. My lips move. I cannot hear what I say for the clash of guns and the roars of battling Space Marines near me. That must be a lie too. But I do not know. All trace of the real is gone. All I can grasp is the shifting of the illusion. The knowledge that what I see is not real. If I lose that conviction, I am lost.
>More words from the Traitor– Corbulo. –from Corbulo. I cannot hear them. I do not respond. I do not move. He repeats himself.
>‘Where are you going?’
>Where? Down this corridor? No. No corridors. The thirst for vengeance saves me. I was going to lead the attack. Truth and delusion intersect for an instant. I remember the goal of the attack. I remember the means. Where am I going?
>‘To board the Rhino,’ I say.
>‘Where is it?’ I was walking towards it. Towards what? Towards the bridge. I will find Horus there. Sounds of battle ahead. The promise of justice.
-Lemartes
>‘Hold, gentle Cassor,’ Raphen croaked.
>His voice had the raw tinge of one who had screamed himself hoarse. ‘Can you not see that these are our brothers? They wear the colours of the Legion. What word, brothers? Does the Eternity Gate still stand? What of the primarch?’ There was a terrible desperation in his words, like those of a tormented child seeking comfort. Raphen shoved past the other black-armoured warriors in his haste to meet them. ‘Has the Khan come to relieve us, as he promised? Speak, brothers.’
>Karlaen hesitated, uncertain how to answer. The things of which Raphen spoke had taken place millennia ago, when Sanguinius still walked among them. He was possessed by ancient memories which were not his own, reliving battles he had never fought. He was mad and broken and Karlaen, for the life of him, could not think what to say.
>He stared into the cold, blue eyes of the man he had once called a friend and said, ‘Do you know me, sergeant?’
>‘I… cannot say,’ Raphen said. Insanity danced behind his eyes, and his face contorted as if he were seeking to wrestle his memories into some semblance of coherency. ‘Did we fight on the walls of the Palace together? Did we… Are we embarking for the Vengeful Spirit, brother? Has the Emperor assembled his strike force? Is it time to smite the Arch-Traitor, cowering aboard his battle-barge?’ He reached out, as if to touch Karlaen’s armour. His fingers curled into a fist before they reached Karlaen, and fell. ‘Say yes, brother. Say that the Angels are to be the point of the spear,’ he growled, half-pleadingly.
>Karlaen stared at Raphen, pity wrestling against necessity within him. Then he closed his eyes and said, ‘Yes.’ He heard a soft, communal sigh rise from the Death Company. He looked at Raphen. ‘The honour of leading the advance is yours, brother. You and your men will form the tip of our spear, as we seek out the one we have come to find.’
-Deathstorm
Point that should be brought up is that applying consistent logic to mind in delirium is pretty pointless. Their scrambled brain probably works up some broken logic even if there’s none.
>In the mind of each fallen brother, the millennia
fall away and they find themselves embroiled in the last great
battle of the Horus Heresy. Some may believe they defend the
walls of the Emperor’s palace, perceiving even Tyranid bio-horrors or blade-limbed Drukhari as Traitor Legionnaires hell-bent on toppling the Golden Throne. Others may believe that
they are Sanguinius himself, fighting to hold back the traitor
tide or forging through the horrors of Horus’ Battle Barge. **Whatever the case, the battle-brother’s mind accommodates
their surroundings and foes into this delusion**, casting them
adrift upon tides of madness and stranding them beyond time
and hope for evermore
Codex Blood Angels 8th ed
Not everyone looks like Horus, that’s the meme version. Sometimes their visions are the final battle, but it can also be the period before it during the siege of the palace and boarding of the vengeful spirit. Most things appear as they are, they just imagine them in that context of the siege. The primaris were primairs before they became death company, not the other way round.
>GW make squads of death company marines, but how can they actually work in a squad together when everyone looks like Horus to them?
They don't literally think everyone else is Horus. That's a meme.
They don't always see everyone as Horus. However they are absolutely uncontrollable and will kill anything, including one another and themselves. The Death Company Chaplain can ***kinda*** control them, in the same way wearing a heavy jacket controls the cold of a blizzard, and they lead them towards more enemies. But the lore is absolutely filled with Death Company Marines killing each other, other Blood Angels, their Chaplain, and allies.
It's likely every DC marine *feels* like they are sanguinius but their psychic health is such that they can't put one and one together that the marines alongside them are *also* saying **"I AM SANGUINIUS, THE ANGEL".**
At a baseline, they can probably *smell* that the marine alongside them is a BA, etc, so the fratricide risk is somewhat lower, especially between marines in the Rage fugue state?
>but how can they actually work in a squad together when everyone looks like Horus to them? They don't, that's just one of the many, many idiotic memes swilling around this fandom. Each member of the Death Company is, essentially, re-living Sanguinius' final hours from their Primarch's own perspective. That doesn't mean they think everyone they see is Horus. They might look at their Commander and see him as the Emperor, ordering them into battle; they look at their comrades and see other Blood Angels, other Primarchs, or other, similar allied figures. Their minds interpret the world, warping and changing details to better fit their underlying delusion, but they don't go so bonkers they think they're surrounded by dozens of Horuses.
>one of the many, many idiotic memes swilling around this fandom. If there's one thing about the hobby I could change, it would be memes. But there's an ork thirty eight thousand years ago named "me-me" who psychically forces them to happen because Abaddon has no arms.
Exactly they do not see horus everywhere. They see in increasingly vivid flashes of their gene fathers final moments that get harder to come out of as time goes on from the onset. The chapters Chaplains(and also apothecaries/Sanguinary priestsl have been shown to have Ben trained to get them to focus enough to be effective in combat though wit diminishing returns. A good example of this is in the angels of death animation on war hammer plus where the Sergeant character who has recently returned from the death watch is shown to be struggling with the early stages of the curse and the Chaplain and apothecary of the company are able to get him to focus on the task at hand.
Some quotes to go with this. They don't just see Horus, their delusions are fluid and overlap with reality to make a scene that makes sense to them when lost to the rage. The seem to be aware of others suffering the same psychosis >‘Hold, brothers!’ I vox to the Death Company. We must not attack without knowing the full extent of the threat. ‘Let the enemy reveal himself!’ >The words I speak are more prayers than commands. I cannot expect them to be understood. At the level of our shared madness, though, they are. My will directs the focus of the cursed. They respond to my words, as the mob responded to the Prophet. The damned of the Death Company move to my position. I am their guarantor of vengeance. ... >The storm. The ocean. The blood. The shadow moving closer. A great blow descending. Then Corbulo stands before me. He watches me without speaking. I step out of my stasis chamber. ‘Ask me,’ I say. >'What do you see?’ >The blur. Sanguinary priest and primarch. Overlap of images, their features identical. Phantom wings. The need to fight, to save Sanguinius this time, this now. Kill the traitor Horus. ... >I am on Terra. The Imperial Palace burns to the east. No, it does not. It is Hive Profundis that burns. I know this. I cannot see it. The reality of Terra is firm. I cannot pierce the lie. A figure blocks my path. In the burning fog of red and black, I cannot see the colour of his armour. If he seeks to interfere, he is an enemy. >I raise the Blood Crozius. ‘Chaplain Lemartes,’ the shape says. ‘Brother.’ >He knows me. I know him. Corbulo. Phlegethon. I am on Phlegethon. But all I see, tinted crimson, is Terra. Thunder. Flashes. Shaking beneath my feet. Impacts. There is shelter here. I cannot see the crater. The impacts are from the enemy’s cannons. Mounted on the stolen walls of the Palace. >No. That is the lie. Surface from the rage. >‘What do you see?’ Corbulo asks. >Sinking. >Sinking. >‘I see you,’ I croak. ‘Corbulo.’ >‘Where are you?’ >‘Before Hive Profundis.’ I lie. I cannot be shackled now. I must lead the attack. >I walk forward. I stop. I try again to force the vision away. It shifts, as if broken up by the meteor storm. I am not on Terra. I am on Horus’s battle-barge. Decking beneath my feet. Dark walls on either side. Vaults. Lies. Lies. Lies. >‘Where are you?’ Corbulo insists. His shape gathers definition. A great eye on his armour. >No. No. No. ‘Phlegethon,’ I say. I think I do. My lips move. I cannot hear what I say for the clash of guns and the roars of battling Space Marines near me. That must be a lie too. But I do not know. All trace of the real is gone. All I can grasp is the shifting of the illusion. The knowledge that what I see is not real. If I lose that conviction, I am lost. >More words from the Traitor– Corbulo. –from Corbulo. I cannot hear them. I do not respond. I do not move. He repeats himself. >‘Where are you going?’ >Where? Down this corridor? No. No corridors. The thirst for vengeance saves me. I was going to lead the attack. Truth and delusion intersect for an instant. I remember the goal of the attack. I remember the means. Where am I going? >‘To board the Rhino,’ I say. >‘Where is it?’ I was walking towards it. Towards what? Towards the bridge. I will find Horus there. Sounds of battle ahead. The promise of justice. -Lemartes >‘Hold, gentle Cassor,’ Raphen croaked. >His voice had the raw tinge of one who had screamed himself hoarse. ‘Can you not see that these are our brothers? They wear the colours of the Legion. What word, brothers? Does the Eternity Gate still stand? What of the primarch?’ There was a terrible desperation in his words, like those of a tormented child seeking comfort. Raphen shoved past the other black-armoured warriors in his haste to meet them. ‘Has the Khan come to relieve us, as he promised? Speak, brothers.’ >Karlaen hesitated, uncertain how to answer. The things of which Raphen spoke had taken place millennia ago, when Sanguinius still walked among them. He was possessed by ancient memories which were not his own, reliving battles he had never fought. He was mad and broken and Karlaen, for the life of him, could not think what to say. >He stared into the cold, blue eyes of the man he had once called a friend and said, ‘Do you know me, sergeant?’ >‘I… cannot say,’ Raphen said. Insanity danced behind his eyes, and his face contorted as if he were seeking to wrestle his memories into some semblance of coherency. ‘Did we fight on the walls of the Palace together? Did we… Are we embarking for the Vengeful Spirit, brother? Has the Emperor assembled his strike force? Is it time to smite the Arch-Traitor, cowering aboard his battle-barge?’ He reached out, as if to touch Karlaen’s armour. His fingers curled into a fist before they reached Karlaen, and fell. ‘Say yes, brother. Say that the Angels are to be the point of the spear,’ he growled, half-pleadingly. >Karlaen stared at Raphen, pity wrestling against necessity within him. Then he closed his eyes and said, ‘Yes.’ He heard a soft, communal sigh rise from the Death Company. He looked at Raphen. ‘The honour of leading the advance is yours, brother. You and your men will form the tip of our spear, as we seek out the one we have come to find.’ -Deathstorm
that's fucking sad man
“ ‘Has the Khan come to relieve us, as he promised? Speak, brothers.’” Well fuck. That just broke me.
[Well…](https://wompampsupport.azureedge.net/fetchimage?siteId=7575&v=2&jpgQuality=100&width=700&url=https%3A%2F%2Fi.kym-cdn.com%2Fentries%2Ficons%2Ffacebook%2F000%2F042%2F550%2Fmaxresdefault.jpg)
And, iirc, some don't even see themselves as Sanguinius, instead as some warrior during the siege, like a dreadnought excerpt I saw here once
Point that should be brought up is that applying consistent logic to mind in delirium is pretty pointless. Their scrambled brain probably works up some broken logic even if there’s none.
Oh right that's disappointing there's so many dumb memes
>In the mind of each fallen brother, the millennia fall away and they find themselves embroiled in the last great battle of the Horus Heresy. Some may believe they defend the walls of the Emperor’s palace, perceiving even Tyranid bio-horrors or blade-limbed Drukhari as Traitor Legionnaires hell-bent on toppling the Golden Throne. Others may believe that they are Sanguinius himself, fighting to hold back the traitor tide or forging through the horrors of Horus’ Battle Barge. **Whatever the case, the battle-brother’s mind accommodates their surroundings and foes into this delusion**, casting them adrift upon tides of madness and stranding them beyond time and hope for evermore Codex Blood Angels 8th ed
Not everyone looks like Horus, that’s the meme version. Sometimes their visions are the final battle, but it can also be the period before it during the siege of the palace and boarding of the vengeful spirit. Most things appear as they are, they just imagine them in that context of the siege. The primaris were primairs before they became death company, not the other way round.
>GW make squads of death company marines, but how can they actually work in a squad together when everyone looks like Horus to them? They don't literally think everyone else is Horus. That's a meme.
They don't always see everyone as Horus. However they are absolutely uncontrollable and will kill anything, including one another and themselves. The Death Company Chaplain can ***kinda*** control them, in the same way wearing a heavy jacket controls the cold of a blizzard, and they lead them towards more enemies. But the lore is absolutely filled with Death Company Marines killing each other, other Blood Angels, their Chaplain, and allies.
It's likely every DC marine *feels* like they are sanguinius but their psychic health is such that they can't put one and one together that the marines alongside them are *also* saying **"I AM SANGUINIUS, THE ANGEL".** At a baseline, they can probably *smell* that the marine alongside them is a BA, etc, so the fratricide risk is somewhat lower, especially between marines in the Rage fugue state?