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Index Astartes: Ebon Butchers Ebon Butchers Armorial' Origins I n the grim darkness of the 37th Millennium, amidst the convoluted machinations of the High Lords of Terra, the 23rd Adeptus Astartes Founding, known as the 'Sentinel Founding,' was unleashed upon the galaxy. Within the vast tapestry of this monumental Imperial endeavour, among the ranks of the newly forged chapters such as the Imperial Harbingers, Star Phantoms, and Celestial Lions, emerged a nascent force hailing from the gene-legacy of the illustrious Silver Eagles, the chosen scions of Guilliman himself. Yet, owing to the bureaucratic labyrinth that enveloped the founding, the name of this fledgling chapter was not immediately recorded alongside its brethren of the 23rd Founding. Over time, however, they came to be known as the Ebon Butchers, a name whispered in hushed tones among the annals of the Imperium's enigmatic legends. Embracing their grim moniker, the Ebon Butchers embarked upon their unyielding duty within the Ultima Segmentum, ever vigilant against the insidious threats lurking within the treacherous Ghoul Stars. It was under the leadership of Manon Gael, the renowned 5th Captain and Master of the Marches within the esteemed Silver Eagles, that the mantle of Chapter Father was bestowed upon him. Recognized for his unwavering commitment and unwavering loyalty to the Emperor's cause, Gael stood resolute as he charted the course for his nascent Chapter. In a strategic move that reflected both their purpose and the vital role they were destined to fulfill, the Ebon Butchers were stationed above the resolute planet of Caro. Caro, a bastion amidst the turbulent currents of the sector, held not only local significance but possessed a cosmic importance that resonated through the veins of the Imperium. It stood as a crucial nexus point, a linchpin connecting various vital systems within the sector, and a focal point of Imperial industry and strategic value. From their vantage point above Caro, the Ebon Butchers projected their indomitable might, shielding the vital world from the encroaching darkness that threatened to devour it. In the relentless crucible of the 41st Millennium, the Ebon Butchers, adorned in their ebony power armour, bear the weight of their heritage as they carve a path through the stars. Unyielding in their determination, they strike with surgical precision, wielding weapons honed on the anvil of countless battles. The chapter has built a fearsome reputation, their name etched in blood and whispered as both a warning to their enemies and a prayer of hope to those who stand alongside them. The Ebon Butchers remain a steadfast bastion of the Imperium, embodying the noble spirit of their gene-sire while weaving their own legend amidst the darkness of the Ghoul Stars. As they etch their chapter's saga upon the annals of history, the Ebon Butchers stand as a resolute bulwark against the horrors that threaten to engulf mankind, their actions echoing with the undying battle cry, 'In the Emperor's name, we carve our path!'" Homeworld Ghoul Stars' C aro, the Gamma class industrial homeworld of the Ebon Butchers, stands as a harrowing testament to the ceaseless cycle of production and consumption within the Ghoul Stars. The planet's sole purpose is the relentless pursuit of food production, its landscape marred by an overwhelming infestation of vermin that teems in numbers beyond reckoning. This vast horde, numbering in the untold trillions, scurries and scavenges with a ruthless survival instinct, preying upon one another in an unending struggle for dominance. The horizon of Caro is dominated by massive hive spires that soar towards the heavens, their towering presence overshadowed only by the colossal machinery of the planet's slaughterhouses. Each hive is a twisted amalgamation of twisted metal and grime, a testament to the relentless industry that propels the planet's food production. Daily, hordes of vermin are herded into the gaping maws of gigantic grinders, their ceaseless screams drowned out by the rhythmic cacophony of grinding gears and machinery. The air on Caro is thick with the noxious stench of faecal matter and blood, belched forth from towering chimney stacks and propelled into the atmosphere by the grinding machines. The swarms of vermin that surround every hive eagerly feast upon this airborne bounty, ensuring a sustainable supply of raw material for the insatiable grinders. It is a precarious balance, for disposing of too much waste at once can lead to uncontrollable infestations, while insufficient waste disposal can disrupt the production cycle. Amidst the sweltering summer seasons, maggots wriggle beneath every machine, thriving in the foul detritus left in their wake. The most crucial hives on Caro are those that boast spaceport capabilities, serving as vital links for delivering essential packaging materials and transporting the planet's produce off-world. However, reports have emerged of infestations that have developed an alarming taste for the promethium stored within these sites. Once these ravenous creatures breach the storage areas, they grow even more feral and rabid, posing a grave threat to production and sparking concern throughout the Administratum. The Imperium's Administratum views the uninterrupted flow of production on Caro as of paramount importance. A disruption in the planet's output would ripple across the Ghoul Stars, plunging the region into famine and starvation. Industrial accidents are an everyday occurrence, resulting in a populace adorned with missing fingers and limbs, a testament to the dangers they face. A significant portion of the population is consigned to the relentless task of pest control, a grueling and often overlooked duty that ensures the continuation of production. Every day, these individuals stand as a bulwark against the ceaseless onslaught of rodents, armed with incendiary weapons that illuminate the night as they repel the swarming masses. Occasionally, these pest patrols venture into the treacherous depths of the hive spires, braving perilous machinery and labyrinthine corridors. It is for this reason that children are frequently incorporated into these patrols, their nimbleness and small stature enabling them to navigate areas inaccessible to their adult counterparts. Burial is a luxury unafforded on the planet's surface, as space is a precious commodity consumed entirely by the relentless machinery of production. Furthermore, the spires lack facilities for cremation, leaving no recourse for disposing of the dead. For those who perish in the line of duty or, in rare instances, succumb to old age, their bodies are consigned to the grinding machines. In a final, thankless act, they join the endless cycle of consumption, their flesh and bones becoming sustenance for the insatiable hunger of the Imperium. Caro, the industrial heartland of the Ebon Butchers, stands as a testament to the grim realities of the Ghoul Stars. Amidst the unending struggle against the vermin horde, the chapter's battle-brothers emerge, their resolve unyielding and their purpose resolute. In the midst of filth and decay, the Ebon Butchers carve their path, their indomitable spirit undeterred by the terrors that surround them. Through the unending cycle of production and consumption, the chapter finds strength, fueling their relentless crusade in the Emperor's name. Recruitment I n the shadowed depths of their homeworld's wretched hive spires, the Ebon Butchers find their recruits amidst the bands of infestation-repelling squads, where desperate circumstances breed ideal candidates. When deemed necessary, aspiring neophytes are forcibly plucked from these harrowing surroundings, for their very existence has forged them into resilient and relentless souls. The ceaseless assault on their lives and homes has instilled within them a hardened determination, and their physical endurance and laborious upbringing have sculpted bodies of exceptional strength. Such is their destiny, born amidst the filth and decay, to wield violence and cruelty as weapons against the enemies of mankind. But the toll of their grim existence does not end with their physical transformation. Within the depths of their psyche, the psychological aftermath of toiling in the abattoirs festers, shaping their minds into instruments of unyielding destruction. Desensitization to violence becomes their shield, a necessity born of constant exposure to the brutal and graphic nature of slaughter. The sheer volume of death and suffering witnessed daily erodes empathy and compassion, turning their hearts cold and numbing their emotional responses to scenes of gore and carnage. What once may have instilled horror and revulsion now evokes a detached sense of duty, a callous acceptance of violence as an inescapable part of their existence. Psychological trauma, a relentless specter that haunts their dreams, takes hold. The repeated exposure to traumatic events, the sight of living beings butchered on a massive scale, leaves indelible scars upon their souls. Nightmares and flashbacks torment their restless minds, as the horrors they have witnessed seek to claim their sanity. Anxiety grips their every thought, for the line between the abattoir's cold reality and the nightmares that stalk their subconscious blurs into an indistinguishable haze. The unsanitary and grim environment in which they toil only intensifies the psychological toll, corroding their mental fortitude with each passing day. Within the abattoirs, the distinction between the living beings they process and the workers themselves blurs, as the relentless cycle of death and butchery robs them of their own humanity. They become detached from their own existence, mere cogs in the vast machinery of the Imperium's war engine. The constant handling of death, the dehumanizing aspects of their work, chip away at their connection to life's intrinsic value. The cries of anguish and the spilling of blood become mere echoes, drowned out by the ceaseless grind of the abattoirs. They accept violence as their creed, embracing the macabre dance of death as a necessary means to serve the insatiable hunger of the Imperium. With the passage of time, aggression festers within their hearts, fueled by the desensitization to pain that accompanies their unyielding existence. The violence and suffering they inflict upon others become the currency of their trade, the measure of their worth. Pain, once an intolerable sensation, becomes a familiar companion, dulled by their grim immersion in the horrors of the abattoirs. Their thresholds for cruelty and aggression expand, their perceptions of acceptable behavior twisted by the normalization of inflicting harm. To survive amidst the darkness, they must embrace the abyss within, forsaking the constraints of mercy and restraint. Yet, amidst the grim crucible of the abattoirs, moral dilemmas and guilt linger, haunting their every step. The participation in an industry centered around the killing and processing of living beings spawns conflicts within their conscience. The weight of their personal values clashes with the demands of their duty, plunging them into a chasm of guilt, shame, and existential crisis. They bear witness to the destruction of life, the consumption of flesh and blood, and the torment of ethical quandaries that gnaw at their souls. In the face of such horrors, they find solace in the unwavering loyalty to the Imperium, believing that their sacrifices are necessary for the greater good, however twisted that notion may become. The psychological impact extends beyond the abattoirs, seeping into every aspect of their existence. The grim and macabre nature of their work renders them alien to those who have not experienced similar traumas. They become isolated, severed from the common threads that bind humanity together. Their experiences become unspeakable, incomprehensible to those untouched by the relentless cycle of death. They drift in a world of their own making, haunted by the ghosts of the abattoirs and shunned by a society that cannot comprehend the depths of their torment. In the crucible of Caro's abattoirs, the Ebon Butchers forge their warriors—unyielding, unrelenting, and forever marked by the psychological scars of their past. Their spirits, molded by the relentless horrors they have endured, stand as a testament to the unforgiving nature of the Imperium. With each generation, the Chapter's ranks swell with those who have embraced the darkness within, ready to carve a path of blood and carnage in the name of the Emperor. The Ebon Butchers, a chapter born from the cruelties of their world, epitomize the grim and macabre reality of the Imperium, where the line between savior and monster becomes blurred in the pursuit of victory. Brother Lucien Fortress Monastery B uilt into the desolate moon that orbits the planet Caro, the Butchers' Fortress Monastery, known as the Abattoir, rises like a blight upon the barren surface. Its ominous silhouette looms, an unholy fusion of cold metal and jagged stone, a testament to the twisted nature of the Ebon Butchers' existence. The moon's scarred and pitted surface serves as a canvas for the Fortress Monastery's imposing form, studded with arched gunports, squat lance batteries, and other formidable defenses that project an aura of imminent violence. Upon arrival, the aspiring neophytes are ushered into one of the pressurized shuttle silos, a claustrophobic chamber where servitors secure their freighter with heavy chains, ensuring the vessel remains firmly anchored to the Abattoir's unforgiving embrace. The deafening clank of metal against metal reverberates through the air, a dissonant symphony that heralds their arrival into the heart of the fortress. Driven deep into the bowels of the Abattoir, the neophytes find themselves in the Apothecarion, a chilling realm of sterile steel and clinical efficiency. The air is heavy with the scent of antiseptic, mingling with the unmistakable aroma of raw flesh. Cold stainless steel tables line the refectory, where Butchers, their faces hidden behind bloodstained visors, gorge themselves on plates heaped with rich, fatty meats. The grotesque banquet serves as a grim reminder of the carnal nature that drives their existence, a macabre communion of feasting amidst the looming specters of the fallen. Adorning the walls that encircle the Apothecarion are the tattered remnants of the Chapter's campaign banners, symbols of past triumphs and countless lives extinguished in the name of the Imperium. Beneath these hallowed relics, displayed as trophies and reminders of the horrors that lie beyond, stand the silent sentinels of long-dead heroes. Their armor and accoutrements, now tarnished and weathered, serve as a haunting reminder of the price exacted by the Ebon Butchers' unrelenting duty. Before the neophytes lie the cavernous depths of the Macellum, an amalgamation of dread incarnate—a hybrid of Reclusium, Penitorium, and Dungeon. Here, the twisted nature of their existence finds its physical embodiment. Suspended from meat hooks that dangle from the ceiling, prisoners and brothers condemned to serve penance swing like grotesque pendulums, their bodies emaciated and broken, each movement a testament to their suffering. The air is thick with the metallic scent of blood and the acrid tang of sawdust, a grim combination that lingers as a testament to the brutality within these walls. Within this labyrinth of torment, the neophytes begin their initiation into the legacy of war that permeates every stone and corridor. As a twisted rite of passage, the prisoners within the Macellum are periodically slid out on rails from the ceiling, their broken forms offered as targets for the neophytes to unleash their pent-up aggression. The echoing screams of pain and despair blend with the cacophony of clashing weapons, each strike a savage affirmation of their readiness to embrace the darkness that engulfs them. But amidst the torment and suffering, within the depths of the Macellum, the neophytes find themselves subjected to grueling biological and genetic testing. Stripped bare, their bodies become vessels for the implantation of the precious gene-seed, the lifeblood of the Astartes. Within the flickering gloom, they are remade, fused with the essence of their Chapter's revered progenitors, a transformation that will sustain them through a lifetime of unrelenting combat and unyielding servitude to the Imperium. In the grim recesses of the Abattoir, the Ebon Butchers' Fortress Monastery, the neophytes embrace the nightmarish reality of their existence. They bear witness to the horrors that lie within and submit themselves to the unforgiving crucible of the Chapter's dark legacy. It is here, amid the steel and suffering, that they begin their ascent, destined to become instruments of unyielding destruction in the relentless war that engulfs the galaxy. The Abattoir stands as a monument to the inescapable darkness of the universe, where the line between torment and salvation is forever blurred. Chapter Cult and Belief System T he influence of Caro, the desolate and wretched world that birthed the Brothers of the Ebon Butchers, is etched upon their very souls from the moment they don their neophyte armor. Hardship and unyielding resilience are their birthrights, shaping them into unrelenting vessels of destruction. Failure is not an option but a heresy that cannot be tolerated. In the eyes of the Butchers, this uncompromising intolerance is a virtue, a twisted ideology that permeates their every action and belief. Before embarking on a campaign or engaging in a major battle, the Butchers gather within the Macellum, their combined Reclusium, Penitorium, and Dungeon. It is here, amidst the dank and suffocating darkness, that the Rite of Purgation takes place. The air is heavy with the stench of blood and despair, the clanging of chains serving as a cruel symphony of impending agony. As the Butchers kneel before the gruesome spectacle, their eyes filled with an unsettling mix of reverence and hunger, they recite a solemn prayer, their voices echoing through the chamber. With fervent devotion, they invoke the Emperor's wrath upon their enemies, their words dripping with a vengeful desire for retribution. They beseech His divine favor in their quest for victory, their pleas laced with a chilling resolve that brooks no dissent. The prisoners, their bodies battered and broken, hang from meat hooks suspended from the ceiling, their screams blending with the haunting cadence of the prayer. It is a macabre symphony, a perverse reminder of the consequences of failure that the Butchers hold dear. In this twisted crucible of pain and devotion, the Butchers find solace. The suffering of the prisoners serves as a grim reminder of the fate that awaits those who falter, a constant motivator to push beyond the limits of their mortal shells. The Butchers witness the torment and brutality, their eyes gleaming with a sadistic satisfaction that taints their souls. For in this twisted realm of punishment, they find strength, resolve, and an unyielding determination to strike fear into the hearts of their foes. The Rite of Purgation is a testament to the depths of darkness within the Butchers' hearts. It fuels their relentless pursuit of victory, their unquenchable thirst for the blood of the heretic and the xenos. They have shed their humanity, embracing the monstrous aspects that lie dormant within them. The echoes of the prisoners' screams reverberate through their minds, a constant reminder that failure is not an option. The Butchers care little for the moral quandaries that plague the minds of lesser men. They revel in their capacity for brutality, for they know that the path to victory is paved with the spilled blood of the fallen. Their devotion to the Emperor and their unwavering dedication to the Imperium have transformed them into an embodiment of unyielding fury and merciless slaughter. Imperial observations and Inquisitorial investigations have borne witness to the depths of the Butchers' depravity. Their actions defy reason, their justifications stretched to the limits of sanity. Collateral damage, once deemed regrettable, is now mere collateral, a necessary sacrifice on the altar of victory. The Butchers condone and embrace the horrors they unleash, for they have become monsters in their own right, forged in the crucible of Caro's malevolence and unyielding in their pursuit of the Imperium's cause. The Ebon Butchers stand as a testament to the brutality and mercilessness that lies within the hearts of men. They embody the darkest aspects of humanity, driven to extremes in their unending crusade against the enemies of the Imperium. The Butchers' reputation, steeped in blood and savagery, stands as a warning to all who would oppose them: no price is too high, no act too abhorrent in the pursuit of victory. Chapter Master E ntombed within the frigid embrace of a life-sustaining sarcophagus, the Chapter Master of the Ebon Butchers stands as an indomitable symbol, an embodiment of the Chapter's unwavering resolve and unrelenting pursuit of victory. Renard Beau, revered leader of the Butchers, epitomises their savage nature, unyielding loyalty, and merciless determination. Renard Beau's odyssey into the ancient husk of a Dreadnought began with a grievous wound, a blow that would have shattered a lesser warrior's spirit. Yet, bound by their adamant refusal to succumb to death's embrace, the Butchers interred their fallen commander within the towering colossus of war, preserving his indomitable essence for eternity. Encased within the metal confines of his tomb, Renard Beau became an undying sentinel, forever marching alongside his brethren in their tireless crusade. As Chapter Master, Renard Beau commands unwavering respect and reverence from every Ebon Butcher. His mere presence inspires both awe and trepidation, for he personifies their unbending will and steadfast dedication. Within the depths of his sarcophagus, the Chapter Master never slumbers, never finds respite, but instead maintains an unceasing vigilance, a constant spectre of war marching side by side with his brothers. Renard Beau's age-old wisdom and battle-hardened experience guide the Butchers with unbridled ferocity and strategic mastery. His commanding voice resonates through the vox-grills of his Dreadnought, bearing the weight of authority, and his orders are met with unwavering obedience from those who follow. Having borne witness to countless conflicts and emerged triumphant from the crucible of unrelenting warfare, he has moulded the Butchers into the brutal force they are today. A rallying point for the Chapter, Renard Beau's Dreadnought form stands as a stark emblem of their relentless pursuit of victory. Leading from the forefront, his ancient weaponry rends through the enemies of the Imperium with unfeeling brutality. Collateral damage and the sanctity of life hold no sway over his actions, for he comprehends that the path to victory often demands sacrifice and wanton destruction. To bear witness to Renard Beau amidst the maelstrom of battle is to witness the very essence of the Ebon Butchers. His unyielding spirit, insatiable thirst for retribution, and unwavering loyalty to the Emperor manifest in every thunderous stride and every bone-shattering blow delivered upon the foes of humanity. The sight of his towering Dreadnought form strikes terror into the hearts of adversaries while kindling an indomitable fire within his battle-brothers, reminding them of their sacred duty to purge all threats to the Imperium. Renard Beau, the entombed Chapter Master, encapsulates all that the Ebon Butchers stand for. He is the living embodiment of their brutality, their unyielding nature, and their unwavering devotion to the cause of mankind. As long as he marches alongside his brethren, the Ebon Butchers shall forever wage war with unrestrained ferocity, leaving in their wake a trail of devastation and the resounding echoes of their battle cries. Brother Benoit Gene-seed D escending from the mighty Ultramarines, the gene-seed of the Ebon Butchers remains a bastion of stability amidst the turbulent sea of genetic mutations that plague many other Chapters. Their heritage as the proud scions of Roboute Guilliman ensures that their genetic lineage remains pure, untouched by the taint of corruption. Yet, lurking beneath the surface of their noble heritage lies a darkness that sets them apart from their gene-sire. The Butchers are afflicted by a peculiar malady known as atychiphobia, an extreme fear of failure that consumes their very being. This deep-rooted anxiety drives their anger, rendering them volatile and unpredictable. They find it difficult to forge lasting bonds or maintain meaningful relationships, for they view any form of perceived weakness or constructive criticism as an attack on their self-worth. Their response is one of vehement rejection, lashing out with a ferocity that rivals the most feral of beasts. When the coveted technology to ascend to the ranks of the Primaris Space Marines was bestowed upon the Chapter, the Brothers of the Butchers eagerly embraced the opportunity. The allure of becoming something more, of shedding the perceived shackles of their supposed failures, gripped them with an insatiable hunger. Had it not been for the wise counsel of their ancient Dreadnought-incarcerated Chapter Master, Renard Beau, who sought the guidance of Roboute Guilliman himself, the entire Chapter would have recklessly thrown themselves into the perilous Crossing of the Rubicon Primaris. For the Butchers, the Crossing of the Rubicon represents not only a physical transformation but a spiritual trial of redemption. Their desire to undertake this metamorphosis in droves stems from their profound sense of inadequacy, viewing the ascension as a means to prove their worthiness once more. In their quest for redemption, they yearn to shed their perceived failures and emerge as champions of the Imperium, their inner demons quelled by their newfound strength. Whispers and rumors, like vile tendrils of darkness, swirl around the Butchers and their propensity for embracing the macabre. Some claim that they engage in the grisly act of endocannibalism, consuming the flesh of fallen brethren who did not survive the Primaris transformation. These ghastly tales speak of a twisted communion with the fallen, a ritualistic feast that allegedly grants them the fallen's strength and knowledge. Yet, despite numerous investigations, the truth of these rumors remains elusive, shrouded in the shadows of uncertainty. The Butchers' gene-seed, while stable and untainted, serves as a conduit for their inner turmoil. It carries the weight of their fears and insecurities, fueling their relentless pursuit of perfection and their unyielding rage. In the face of adversity, their genetic legacy remains steadfast, a beacon of hope in the darkest of times. They are the embodiment of the paradox that lies at the heart of the Imperium: noble warriors driven by an unquenchable hunger for redemption, a constant struggle between light and darkness that defines their existence. Only time will reveal the true depths of the Butchers' afflictions and the consequences of their unrelenting quest for absolution. As they march to war, clad in their indomitable armor and wielding weapons of unyielding fury, the echoes of their inner turmoil resonate through the void. The Ebon Butchers stand as a testament to the duality of the human soul, bound by duty and haunted by their own demons, their gene-seed a testament to the complexity and fragility of the Adeptus Astartes. Tactical Imperatives O n the battlefield of the 41st Millennium, the uncompromising nature of the Ebon Butchers becomes starkly apparent. As a fully codex-compliant Chapter, they possess the tactical versatility and adaptability expected of Adeptus Astartes. Yet, it is their terrifying approach to eliminating any obstacles that sets them apart from their brethren. The Butchers have been known to unleash overwhelming force even when it is unwarranted. Instead of sending a single company, they may dispatch three, and rather than committing a select few assault teams, they unleash the full might of their assault forces. They have no qualms about collectively deploying all their reserve companies, heedless of the impact on the replenishment of battle company squads. Such excesses lead to the oversaturation of deadly force, resulting in significant civilian casualties and extreme collateral damage. Imperial officials, who sought their aid in desperation, have come to regret their decision, with some openly expressing that the notorious Marines Malevolent would have been a more preferable alternative. The Butchers, with their little regard for human life, often disregard the consequences of their actions. This reckless behavior regularly breeds tension between them and their allied Imperial forces. Even the venerable Marneus Calgar himself has had to intervene, censuring their actions and attempting to deescalate the volatile situations they create. However, the Butchers' unwavering belief in the primacy of eradicating the enemy fuels their actions. They do not rest, nor do they falter when the Emperor's foes march against them. They are resolute in their commitment to eradicate all threats they face, employing every resource at their disposal and expending every fiber of their being in the process. In the crucible of war, they unleash whatever weaponry is required to achieve victory, displaying a predilection for incendiary arms that harks back to their time on the desolate surface of Caro. In the direst of circumstances, when the tides of war reach their zenith, the Company Captains of the Butchers possess the authority to enact a devastating war designation known only as "The Pithing." This grim directive grants them and all under their command the unfettered license to kill or immobilize anything that stands in their path. It is a declaration of unmitigated destruction, a desperate measure reserved for the most extreme battles. Yet, even in the face of dire necessity, this indiscriminate approach draws the disapproval of higher powers, who view the wanton devastation it brings as an undesirable consequence. The Ebon Butchers embody the essence of the Imperium's ruthless pursuit of victory, their tactics and doctrines reflecting the darkest aspects of humanity's unyielding resolve. They are an embodiment of unbridled fury and unapologetic violence, leaving a wake of destruction in their path. In the unrelenting war-torn cosmos, the Butchers stand as a testament to the brutal price that must be paid to defend the fragile flame of the Emperor's light. Cleansing of Varren IX T he Cleansing of Varren IX tore away a shroud of darkness, subjecting those within to the burning light of the Emperor's judgment. A realm plagued by heretical cults and concealed corruption. The Imperium, desperate to root out the insidious forces manipulating the region, called upon the relentless might of the Ebon Butchers. Unfazed by notions of covert operations, the Butchers descended upon the shadows with a ferocity that brooked no compromise. From the moment they set foot upon the tainted soil, the Butchers abandoned all pretence of subtlety. Like ravenous predators, they tore through the veil of secrecy, their black-armoured forms a chilling omen for those lurking in the dark. The sanctity of life held no meaning for them; collateral damage was an afterthought as they pursued their quarry with unbridled ruthlessness. Operating in highly efficient hammer blows, the Butchers struck swiftly and mercilessly. They penetrated enemy strongholds with wanton disregard, leaving destruction in their wake. No door remained unbreached, no hidden sanctuary untainted by their presence. They cared not for the collateral inflicted upon innocents caught in the crossfire, for they were but insignificant pawns in the greater game of eradicating the enemies of the Emperor. In their pursuit of the shadowy enemy, the Butchers unleashed a maelstrom of violence upon the sector. Entire districts were reduced to rubble as their boltguns barked with unrestrained fury, shattering the silence of the night. They hunted their prey with the ferocity of feral beasts, stalking through darkened alleyways and across desolate rooftops, leaving a trail of devastation in their wake. Their actions were driven by a singular purpose: to instil fear in the hearts of those who dared betray the Imperium. The Butchers operated with a disregard for moral qualms or the sanctity of life, their path marked by the collateral damage they caused. Imperial subjects, innocent and tainted alike, were swept aside, their lives snuffed out without mercy as the Butchers pursued their true targets. The Cleansing of Varren IX would forever be remembered as a campaign where the Ebon Butchers let loose their unyielding savagery upon the forces lurking in the darkness. The sector, once a breeding ground for treachery and heresy, lay broken and scarred. Its populace cowered, their hope shattered by the iron fist of the Butchers' relentless pursuit. It was a grim reminder that when the Butchers waged war, collateral damage was an inconsequential detail in their unrelenting crusade against the enemies of the Emperor. Brother Corentin Organisation T he Ebon Butchers have adhered to the tenets of the Codex Astartes throughout their storied existence. However, the return of Roboute Guilliman, the Primarch of the Ultramarines and architect of the Codex, has prompted them to reassess their organizational structure and adapt to the changing times. They swiftly embraced the integration of Primaris Space Marines at all levels of their hierarchy, recognizing the enhanced capabilities and genetic purity of these new warriors. Initially, the influx of Primaris Marines introduced a measure of moderation and restraint to the Chapter, deviating from the brutal and unrelenting reputation they had come to be known for. Yet, as more of their battle-brothers undertook the perilous Crossing of the Rubicon Primaris, the Butchers' infamous reputation resurfaced with fervor. Maintaining ten full-strength companies has proven to be a perpetual challenge for the Ebon Butchers due to the relentless attrition they face in their ceaseless campaigns. It is not uncommon to discover that their 10th Company, traditionally consisting of scouts and neophytes, is significantly understrength, for it is this company that bears the brunt of losses and recruits new aspirants into their ranks. The constant demands of battle and the Chapter's unwavering dedication to the Imperium have exacted a heavy toll on their forces. There are those who question whether the Butchers' tendency to deploy all their Reserve Companies en masse, rather than adhering to the traditional Codex doctrine of a single company deployment, truly allows them to claim compliance with the Codex Astartes. Yet, few would dare to challenge the Butchers openly on this matter, for those who have witnessed the Chapter's fury firsthand understand the dire consequences of provoking their wrath. In the face of their brutal efficiency and unyielding determination, even the staunchest adherents of the Codex would hesitate to question the Butchers' interpretation. The Ebon Butchers stand as a testament to the resilience and adaptability of Adeptus Astartes. Though they may skirt the boundaries of the Codex, their dedication to the defense of the Imperium remains unshakable. With the infusion of Primaris warriors and the indomitable spirit of their battle-hardened veterans, the Chapter forges ahead, ever ready to unleash their fury upon the enemies of mankind. In grim darkness, the Ebon Butchers march to war, a formidable force shaped by their own bloody legacy and their unwavering commitment to the Emperor's cause. Dreadnoughts T he Ebon Butchers, in their brutal and uncompromising pursuit of victory, boast a vast horde of Dreadnoughts unmatched by many of their fellow Adeptus Astartes brethren. This abundance of revered war engines is a testament to their Brothers' sheer refusal to succumb to death's icy grip. In the eyes of these warriors, mortality is but a stepping stone, a gateway to a new existence of unyielding service. When a battle-brother falls in the throes of battle, his brethren waste no time in interring his broken form within the cold and unyielding sarcophagus of a Dreadnought. These towering colossi, embodiments of ancient resilience and raw power, stand as conduits through which the indomitable spirits of fallen heroes continue their eternal crusade in the Emperor's name. Within the ranks of the Chapter, the Dreadnoughts are held in the highest regard, revered as living avatars of the Butchers' relentless pursuit of victory and their unwavering dedication to the eradication of the Imperium's foes. Unlike their counterparts in other Chapters, the Dreadnoughts of the Ebon Butchers are seldom granted respite. They know no rest, marching ceaselessly into the maw of battle, their ancient mechanical frames fueled by an insatiable thirst for vengeance and an unwavering loyalty to the Emperor. In the darkest hours of the night, when the fortress-monastery is shrouded in an eerie stillness, the resounding echoes of adamantium limbs reverberate through the halls, a haunting reminder of the eternal vigilance these war machines embody. To the Butchers, the Dreadnoughts are more than mere war engines; they are venerated mentors and battle-hardened sages. Neophytes and seasoned veterans alike seek their wisdom, drawn to their towering presence on the battlefield. These mechanical behemoths embody the pinnacle of martial prowess and an unyielding dedication that serves as an inspiration to all who witness their colossal forms in the heat of combat. As the Butchers march unwaveringly toward the Imperium's enemies, the Dreadnoughts lead the charge, their ancient weaponry tearing through ranks of foes with a ferocity and brutality unmatched. The indomitable spirits housed within their hulking frames fuel their every action, driving them ever forward in the Butchers' unrelenting quest for victory. In the presence of these revered war engines, be they battle-brothers or lowly serfs, all bow their heads in deference, paying homage to the sacrifices made and the eternal service rendered by these ancient warriors. The Dreadnoughts of the Ebon Butchers, with their unquenchable hunger for battle and unrelenting drive, inspire both awe and fear in equal measure. They stand as living embodiments of the Chapter's unyielding will, a constant reminder of the Butchers' unbreakable resolve in the face of all opposition.