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The Eyes of Tivan Blood for Blood Cast in the image of nobility and austerity, the proud, conflicted warriors of the Eyes of Tivan chose the wrong path to end their suffering. Broken warriors humbled and enslaved to wills greater than they, the passing of millennia and the incessant turmoil of war has eroded their identities until they can no longer tell the difference between servant and god. Age of Heroes "Come, sons of slaughter. The Enemy of All desires your presence, your power, your blood. Stare deep into the smoking mirrors and be reborn as Those Whose Slaves We Are. His eye is upon you already. In His sight, Tivan knows you.” -- High Priest of Moyscax, fourteen centuries before the Emperor unifies Terra The World Eaters' 30th Echelon had been ordered to break itself. The Warmaster's treachery had begun, but they were too distant to join in the wars on Istvaan III. And so its commander had been ordered, by their broken father, to purge his ranks of the weak of heart and arm upon the bloody shores of whichever world they came upon. Unknown to Captain Brute Tyrke, the feral jungles of Moyscax proved a more than adequate crucible. The world of Moyscax was one of deep green lands, broken only by the smudges of black and glaring red that marked the extensive fires that tried, and failed, to keep the jungles at bay. Fire of a different sort afflicted the world on the day of new stars. The 30th Echelon landed upon the world of Moyscax like a doomsday rain of meteors. The World Eaters' orders from their commander had been simple and exactly the kind they loved to hear. The world of Moyscax would not be brought into compliance. It would be butchered wholesale. With the Nails hammered into their skulls singing of blood and pain, the World Eaters tore through the settlements. Primitive warriors stood their ground against them and were struck down with impunity. Their wives and children were easier targets. However, no matter how easy the massacre, one truth played out across the world as the conquering sons butchered their way across. No matter the victim, no matter their abilities, they knew as little fear as their killers. Hate only was in their eyes. No matter the futility, they would strike back with all their weak might as life was torn from them. The first sign of the dangers Moyscax would pose was in the religious centers of the world. Great, mountainous piles of bones dominated the centers, flaming torches upon their peaks illuminating blood sacrifices that should never be known by humanity. Bodies with their hearts torn free would be kicked from the peak and tumble to the bottom. These bodies would barely begin to settle at the base when, horrifyingly, they would stand and race, screaming murder, for the nearest living thing. The World Eaters laughed in the face of these charges, but the laughter turned to blood in their throats when the unclothed, unarmed bleeding dead struck with enough power to shatter chainaxes and stab through ceramite armor. With blunt claws would they tear open the enemy, and with small fangs would they engorge themselves of blood and flesh. This was how Moyscax would defend itself against would-be conquerors. Had it been any other conqueror, they might have won. The chained warriors of the World Eaters welcomed death in the pursuit of bloodshed. No World Eater flinched from the dead, no matter that a dozen would die before the black-eyed monstrosities could be put down. The mountains of dead were toppled, the rituals subverted and those already turned struck down, at great loss. At the center of the world, deep within the primitive civilizations' grandest city, built upon an island of skulls that thrust from a shallow lake of blood, the World Eaters were held back the longest. As religious centers everywhere were stamped out with finality, often at the cost of the last living World Eater to assault it, Captain Tyrke led his finest up a mountain of dead that dwarfed the grandest of Moyscax's natural mountain ranges. Bodies twitched and with great fury freed themselves from the slopes to throw themselves upon hulking Astartes. Many Marines simply disappeared as hands void of muscle yet great of strength pulled them under too fast for the victim to roar with anger at his demise. None of it slowed their advance. As a force that began as hundreds, mere dozens reached the beclouded peak. Like the home of ancient gods, Moyscax's great temple was dark, foreboding and splashed red with blood. The survivors of Tyrke's command never once hesitated. The Nails prevented them from ever experiencing that. As one, they mobbed the Temple to meet and kill the dark gods of Moyscax. The Foundations Cracked "How could anyone champion this insanity? Necessity be damned, along this road lies only that fate from which we flee." -- Ragiin Loeras, former Techmarine of the Emperor's XII Legio Astartes, Lord of Outer Night Captain Tyrke's 30th Echelon left the burning world of Moyscax with a mere one hundred and fifty Marines, a loss of more than four for every five. Their lord father would have been pleased, if would ever care to know. The world of Moyscax had broken them, shattered them, and those few that emerged from the darkened temple high above the burning land had been marked, changed. Clutched tightly in his hands, Tyrke carried from its depths an icon of obsidian, which shined bright with the deepest black, torn bloodily from the hands of the Archpriest. Carved into its surface was a single, staring eye and its gaze was upon them all. The 30th Echelon no more, for there was no longer enough to form a Battalion, nor even a second Company. The World Eaters repainted their worlds clenched by the jaws upon their shoulders into that of the obsidian eye, christening themselves the Eyes of Tivan. Though small in strength, the Eyes of Tivan entered the battles of the Heresy as they always did. No hesitation, or a care for losses sustained. Reports abounded of a World Eater force that would strike loyalist worlds, burning their cities before drowning the flames in blood. They were fearless and savage, many so far gone that they didn't bother to arm or armor themselves before striking enemy lines with obscene force, their black eyes seemingly void of life or thought. Behind the naked savagery was the armored core. Just as relentless, just as savage, just as merciless. One band of World Eaters, releasing its own torrent of bloodshed to take part in the galactic flood, the rising tide finally slapping upon the shores of noble Terra. The actions of the Eyes of Tivan upon Terra are lost to history. The Siege was too great in scope for the minor details to be retained, but they left their mark nonetheless. Ten thousand years later, it remains a customary greeting to the denizens of the hives of western expanse of Hy Brasil to shine a light upon their face, to prove honorable intentions by showing the whites of their eyes. However, what history does hold is that the Warmaster's horde was defeated upon his death. Like their brothers, the Eyes of Tivan fled Terra. The Eye of Terror's gaze upon them burned like the obsidian eye of their icon, drew them in and embraced Blood is Life, Life is Eternal "They cannot hide the falseness of their faith. They believe it frees them, but it only chains them further. I know, oh, I know. I can feel the chains, the tick-tick-ticking of them in my head. These chains; we will never be free. Kill them all." -- Brute Tyrke, Red King of the Eyes of Tivan The Eyes of Tivan fared poorly during the Legion Wars following the Horus Heresy. More and more of their brethren fell to the singing of the Nails, to the brutal whisperings of their black-eyed patron. Though terrible in battle, their losses were more horrific still. It was a lesson their brothers had already learned. Give in to the blood, give in to the pain, and be free within it. It was a lesson their Lord refused to heed, as decades turned into centuries, though it was a battle he was destined to lose. The obsidian idol, never far from Tyrke's presence, was an ever-present companion within his own mind. There, from that pocket of red darkness that itched with such familiarity, understanding came. Life was enslavement. Death was no escape. The eternal game of the Gods would hold them hostage as pawns for as long as the game was played. Only the death of a God could upset the balance enough to end the game. Only with the game over could freedom be gained. As that dark presence within Tyrke's mind roared in victory, the Eyes of Tivan finally, finally gave in to the bidding of their Blood God, by vowing to take his head. Their eyes blackened, their minds deadened, their fury deepened. Lesser servants of their patron bonded to them, one and all. From that point on, sanity was expelled from their souls. They would wage war across the galaxy, working ever to undermine the actions of their own brother warbands. All the while, never knowing they have become nothing more than a tool for a lesser deity of the Warp to gain ascendancy within the Blood God's court. For Khorne cares not from whence the blood flows. Only that it flows. Combat Doctrine "Hrngh. Ah, the Nails bite is strong. Days in the blood pits, still they demand more. Damn them. Must I blacken my eyes to be free of this? Must I?" -- Blood-Sergeant Agalito Brog The Eyes of Tivan fight with all the bloody rage common to World Eater warbands. Aspects of war like ranged combat or armour divisions have become foreign elements, lost alongside their sanity. The Eyes of Tivan include themselves in the terrible crusades that spill with regularity from the oppressive Eye of Terror, spreading murder and hate across the Imperium. How the Eyes of Tivan strike out at the enemy varies by each member of the Warband. Some, such as their Chaos Lord, the Red King, wade into battle fully armored and armed. Many behave like further degraded Berzerkers, their rush to enter combat brought on by such a great need that things such as war plate or weapons are forgotten where they fall from clawed fingers. Like the tortured, lost sons of the Great Angel, the Eyes of Tivan exhibit many cannibalistic traits in their rages, preferring to drink of the blood rather than simply letting it spill upon the earth. Though nothing brings them more pleasure than slaking their bloodthirst upon the worshipers of the False Emperor, often it appears that their true intent is to break their own crusades. At the cusp of victory, the Eyes of Tivan turn from their grand slaughtering of the foe to visit the same destruction upon their erstwhile allies, all too often tipping the balance so that the forces of Chaos are routed. Though none now doubts the perfidy of the Eyes of Tivan, there are always over-prideful Chaos Lords who feel themselves invulnerable to such betrayals and rarely is the Warband without such a warhost. With such servants, their patron gains in power primarily by weakening or destroying the powerbases of its rivals. Organisation "There! Did you hear that? In the wind, listen! The whispers, they sound so near. The words are madness. Wait! What was that?" -- Last transmission of the 451st Jarglundd Recon; first recorded report of the phenomenon known as the Black Wind The numbers of the Eyes of Tivan are forever in flux. Though their recruitment process is quick, their manner of war means that it is rarely enough to keep them ever more than three, four hundred Marines. The Eyes of Tivan practice a terrible blood ritual to convert a recruit. The hapless victim is taken and their heart torn free. As the body twitches in its death throes, the blood and heart of a dead Marine is forced down the corpse's throat, while a Lord of Outer Night performs the binding ritual that seals one of their patron deity's lesser servants into the body. The practice fails more often than not, but enough of the recruits stand from the altar under their own power to keep the Eyes of Tivan from extinguishing themselves. Within the Warband, there is a very strict hierarchy. Lord of all is the Red King, Brute Tyrke, a hulking monster in Terminator armor with the obsidian eye implanted into the chestplate, though many say within his own chest as well. Though his own eyes shine just as black, it is no mere servant that inhabits his body alongside his own soul, but their patron, Tivan itself, that is bonded to him. Beneath him are the Lords of Outer Night, those high officers and commanders of the former 30th Echelon who, upon surviving the crucible of Moyscax, were granted the boon of Tivan's greater servants, blood gods themselves who were worshipped on that dark world. The remainders are the legionaries of the Warband, though a lesser caste exists below. These are the cultists that rally behind the Warband, the recruits whose transformations are stillborn, the Marines, of any rank, who failed to control themselves. These are the Blood Slaves, feral beasts without intelligence but full of ferocity and power. The Blood Slaves are the warband's shock troops, the first cast into battle. Rarely do any survive to leave it. Beliefs "Take their hearts and eat of it. Slice their throats and drink from it. Blood is power, so we keep it for ourselves. It makes our deaths all the more sweet, for it will not be our blood alone that flows from our veins." -- Ta'omes, Lord of Outer Night Over the millennia, the Eyes of Tivan have had their consciousnesses subverted by the entities they have taken into themselves, who now wear their skins. Though many have retained their former identities, much was lost. Most now identify strongly with the entities' memories and recall themselves as ancient blood gods, older than humanity. Whether the individual was lost to the daemon within, or was so corrupted that the two became one, is unknown even to the individuals themselves. Whatever the case, their bodies are suits no different from the armor they wear over it. The Eyes of Tivan are worshippers of Khorne of a different sort. Though they do not praise him specifically, they rally to his cause and are clearly crafted in his image. Their true beliefs are far more self-centered. The only gods they openly praise are themselves. This is their worldview, that they are the mortal forms of eternal gods, birthed for the sole purpose of preying on the galaxy. In interactions with other traitors, kin or otherwise, the rivalry they feel can be so overwhelming that they seek nothing more than their total destruction. Battle cry "I see you." --- --- --- --- --- --- --- http://i.imgur.com/F99l5vX.jpg Their icon is typical World Eater one, but replace the world with a black ball carved into an eye. Not the Eye of Horus, I am imagining a simple circle in the center to look like a pupil, with the cracks leading from the fangs looking like red veins. Thanks go to Kol Saresk for helping me come up with ideas.