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... mon-body. With both hands he seized the horrifying "locks" of hair—those Butcher's Nails—and wrenched with everything he had.
Those ghastly strands were like cables, studded with barbs, burrowing from the scalp deep into Angron's brain. From a distance they looked like thorn-wire "hair."
Under Chaos pollution, that relic-tech had become even more feral and loathsome, writhing like a living thing.
The Chaos Gods had anchored it inside Angron. It was terrifyingly secure, an ...
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