Lufgt Huron, also known as Huron Blackheart and the "Tyrant of Badab," was once the Chapter Master of the Astral Claws and self-claimed Imperial Governor of the world of Badab Primaris in the Maelstrom Zone of the Ultima Segmentum. But ultimately, Huron was corrupted in his ambitious pursuit of power and he tainted most of his Chapter as well, leading them into an open rebellion against the Imperium of Man, known as the Badab War, which lasted from 901-912.M41. Bound to machines which keep him alive and forever in pain, Huron is now a scarred creature of hate. His machine claw clicking, he has strode to battle time and again, followed by the daemonic Hamadrya, and each time the agony of his existence grows and the spite within him deepens.
Just a watercolor sketch I did of my cup on my desk at work, which was handmade and purchased from a farmer’s market. I have a little cat that sits on it that I got from a gachapon machine at a sushi restaurant.
PSA to not be a dick to retail workers this holiday season (and all seasons!). Working retail during the holidays was some of my shittiest experiences. People become coupon-waving, red-faced monsters that deserve nothing but a trip into Krampus’ sack.
Here are a few things to remember:
1: They have literally no authority. Honestly, the cashier would love nothing more than to accept a stack of expired coupons to get some cranky-ass customer indignantly insisting that “at this point YOU owe ME money!” through the line. But they can’t. And no amount of screaming will change that. Oh, and the manager is bunkered safely in the back refusing to come out and will only troubleshoot through walkie.
2: If you’re nice (like basic human decency) they are more inclined to help you as much as they are able. Being kind and patient costs nothing and might actually pay off. You might even be able to coax out a skiddish manager that *sometimes* has the magic touch to get things accomplished.
3: Corporate overlords. Managers can do a lot but in the end, the retail world is run from corporate overlords through the machine sentries AKA registers. Welcome to Black Mirror, people. If the machine rejects your request then back to the matrix with you.
Sometimes I just start throwing lines on top of lines. Today was such a day, fusing, intermingling, and vomiting lines up onto the page. (I originally titled this "Dreams in Digital" but then I was like "no one has heard Orgy's second album but you. Please abandon this late-1990s alt-rock persona. Live in the now.")
(fineliner pen on the back of a 55mm x 85mm business card) I accidently shredded this piece. It was a nice little drawing on the back of a business card, so it was annoying to lose it.
