And thus, did Duffman grin.
The Emperor's Wings
10 thousand years ago, the Empire of Man was in turmoil. Brother versus brother, man versus man. On one side? Heretics. On the other? Pure faith. Dufflious was like any other Blood Angel Veteran Sergeant. Keep yer head low, move fast, and you'll come through okay. Even for a Blood Angel, Dufflious was unphathomly skilled with bladed weapons, Claws and Swords especially. Dufflious was there the day he and his Brothers entered the horrid forge of pure evil known as Horus' battle barge.
Like all of his brothers, he was distorted and stranded, the foul works of herecy had thrown the transporter signal off, he was alone in a dark chamber of sorts. His sensors showed that the room was rank with the stench of Chlorine gas, vaugly smelling of urine. He expected nothing less of deamonic scum. Jerking his shoulder, he shook loose a foul vine of purest black, and ignited his Lightning claws. The blue glow lit the room, he could make out a door, and began walking to it. From the corner of the shadows, a marine walked out, he was a Son of Horus. As a force of habit, Dufflious tilted his head and smiled, a pointless gesture, as he was helmed. But then a rush of adrenilin reminded him that he was indeed the foe. Spiked rivits poked through his armour, his face vunerable as he wore no helm. The once loyal brother charged Dufflious into the wall, the foul vine-like creatures cushioned his huge bulking form, disturbingly quick, Dufflious ducked and rolled away from the wall, flicking a surging claw through the tainted armour, peeling away the ceremite from his forsaken body, it seemed to hiss in pain. The Heretic loosened a chain-axe from his side, and swung wildly at Dufflious, it was almost too easy. The Scum-marine clearly expected his chaotic gifts to benifit him, against such a lowly corpse-god lover, Dufflious abused his enemy, his foolishness was his undoing, as the Heretic went for a wide swing, Dufflious side stepped and brought his surging blue wrath into his armpit, dragging upwards and cleaving his neck, head and arm off in a single chunk. The two slid apart, landing on the floor with a wet spludge.
Dufflious shook his head. This wasn't how it was meant to be, who would betray the maker? Who would turn arms to their Father? He set off on a jog down the halls of the tainted barge. Meeting a few friendly faces, or rather, a few friendly suits of armour. The false-god worshippers put up resistance, and held up the Blood Angels in a cargo bay. Bolter shells pinged off of bulkhead walls, auto cannon shots brought sweet revenge into the blackened hearts of the scum, and then it hit.
Dufflious fell to one knee, clutching the back of his neck, the location of his Gene-Seed glands. The pain was blinding. Suddenly he saw himself at Sanguinus' side. As the Angel fell his last fall, blood purer than anything else in the imperium trickled from his mouth. With a primal scream of rage, Dufflious leaped over the box with which he took cover behind, his brothers did similar, however in such a rage Dufflious cared not. Dragging his weight and blade through the scum, he washed over the dirt as a wave of holy water.
After a few bloody confrontations, Dufflious was on the bridge of the flying monstrosity. His eyes watered as he saw the Emperor fighting the favoured son, the clash of two Gods of war. His gaze swung low as he saw Sanguinus propped against a wall, bleeding from his chest and mouth. Running towards him, the Blood Angel held his loved Primarch in his arms, the pure blue eyes bore into Dufflious soul.
"D...Dufflious... it... sadens me you see me like this" his voice was sweet like morning dew
"Lord Primarch!" Tears stung the Sergeant's eyes
"There is something..." the primarch coughed blood onto Dufflious' chest plate "You must do for me"
"The coming centuries will be hard on Mankind. You must reforge the Blood Angel Gene seed.." Dufflious found his gloved hand tracing the wings on Sanguinus' back "It is with my blood you will find strength. You must... take flight on his wings" Sanguinus' fleeting glance landed on the Emperor of Mankind "Do this for me Dufflious. You are destined for great things, you will lead the Emperor's Wings!"
Dufflious almost ripped his helm off, his brown long hair drapped over his face, tears landed on the primarch, as he laid him to the floor, and watched as the titans fought on.
100 years later, when humanity was restored to what be called normal, the Emperor safe on his Golden Throne, Dufflious took his plea to Master Gulliman. It was indeed granted, as he knew that the Angels needed purification. The Angels of the Sanguinello would be a burning orange in colour, the bands of black tribute to the lost on either arm. It is with them the Sanguinello take flight. On his wings.
(Afternotes; been at college, Spelling's a bit poor. It's historically inacurate, but then again, it works for me. Hope you enjoyed reading it.)