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Hello all. I guessed it was about time I put some pics up of my Chapter. I am going to say this now: updates will be infrequent and random (unless a painting challenge appears). I have a escalation tournament coming up so hopefully that will get me motivated. Also going to use my gallery here for a change. I know I am no 'Eavy Metal painter and some of my paintjobs are a little old now but any comments and criticisms you can give will be greatly appreciated. Part 1 of my almost Complete battle Company with some 1st Company Part 2 Interrogator-Chaplain Limited Edition Sergeant

Let me tell you of your brothers in the East. The watchers in the outer dark. Bearers of the sword of retribution. Let me tell you of the blades that were broken, of wars both won and lost, of sacrifices made without hesitation. Then you may know something of the meanings of duty and honour. Veteran Sergeant Naaman, addressing Scout Infiltration Team Beta at Koth Ridge, the Piscina IV Campaign, 221997.M41

Summary: ▪ GENE-SEED (PREDECESSOR): Disciples of Caliban ▪ FOUNDING: Sentinel Founding ▪ CHAPTER MASTER:Asimov ▪ CHAPTER WORLD: Menov ▪ FORTRESS MONASTERY: Anwar Peak ▪ MAIN COLOURS: ▪ SPECIALITY: Tailored Warfare ▪ BATTLE CRY: "Lions Roar" ▪ CURRENT STRENGTH: Full Strength ▪ KNOWN DESCENDANTS: None Known Obsidian Lions The Sentinel Founding saw a great number of Chapters being created to reinforce the Imperium’s strength that had taken a toll in the preceding millennia. The Obsidian Lions were founded to help patrol the fringes of Segmentum Tempestus which had assaulted repeatedly by Xeno. Although the Obsidian Lions are a Dark Angel Successor they were instead trained by the Howling Griffons. This seeded distrust on behalf of the Dark Angels towards the Lions that eventually led to the Obsidian Lions to break ties with the Dark Angels and the rest of the Unforgiven. In the many millennia since the schism the Obsidian Lions have moved past the shadow of the Unforgiven and forged their own image amongst the Astartes. The Lions are well known for being able to tailor their forces and bringing the right tool for the battle at hand. Origins: The Obsidian Lions have had an air of suspicion since their inception. No one has been able to clarify with any proof as to why they were created from the Disciples of Caliban so soon after their creation. Many say that the request to have the Disciples created doubts about why the Dark Angels wanted a new Successor. Rather than openly accuse one of the original Chapters of any wrongdoing they decided to put the gene-seed to the test. Following their creation and training with the Howling Griffons they adopted the world Menov as their homeworld. They fought many battles alongside the Howling Griffons honing their skills of war. Their tactical ingenuity was praised and long after their training had finished the Griffons still sought the Obsidian Lions assistance. Eventually they fought alongside the Dark Angels at the Battle of Zenith. After the battle the Dark Angels acknowledged that the Obsidian Lions were indeed of their lineage, while the meeting was amicable the Lions could sense an air of unease emanating from the Dark Angels. They vowed to prove to the Dark Angels that they had the strength of the Lion. As time passed the Lions began to mimic the organization and tactics of the Dark Angels, including Deathwing and Ravenwing. No matter what victories the Lions secured or how many Imperial forces gave laurels to them they always seemed on the outside of the Dark Angels’ circle of allies. There had been many times where the Obsidian Lions were not privy to objectives or tactical information when heading into battle when fighting alongside the Unforgiven. Many times they would be leading the vanguard only to realize that their allies have changed tactics and objectives or left the battlefield all together. Their oath to prove themselves to the Dark Angels started taking its toll on the Obsidian Lions. They had been fighting at half strength for a while and whenever the Unforgiven chased their own targets the Lions end up paying a steep price. It all came to a boiling point when the Angels of Absolution were supposed to flank the enemy at the Wavium Conflict. The Angels of Absolution changed tactics and attacked the leadership without notifying the Lions. This lead to the Lions quickly being surrounded and if not for timely reinforcements from their Battle Barge, the Lion’s Den, they would not have survived the battle. While the Angels were successful into throwing the enemy forces into disarray the Obsidian Lions sustained a large number of casualties. Amongst the casualties was their Chapter Master, Naziel, who was found battered surrounded by bodies including his broken obsidian swords. The Lions confronted the Angels about their treachery and the Angels replied that it was an mean to an end, casualties were an unfortunate side effect. The two forces began to fight as Chief Librarian Solomon scanned the minds of the Angels and saw that they saw them as tainted. In his fury he saw unleashed a psychic force that killed many Angels of Absolution before his ire was reeled in. The Angels decided to retreat seeing this as a battle they could not since they were outnumbered both on the ground and in orbit. Following this event the Obsidian Lions took time to rebuild and restructure as they saw the Dark Angel’s tactics and structure flawed. They also no longer responded to the Unforgiven’s calls for assistance. They would carve their own destiny apart from the Dark Angels and their progeny. Chapter Home World: Menov was established as the Obsidians Lions’ home planet shortly after their creation and has been extensively fortified over the millennia. They had made planet fall to answer a call for assistance against a Tau force that had attacked some of the kingdoms on the planet. The Tau was a small reconnaissance force and the Lions were able to make quick work of them. While they were battling the Tau they had come across black lions with silvery manes and they took this as a sign. It did not take long before their entire fleet was in orbit over the planet. Menov is a feudal world with many kings carving out their kingdoms within the forests. A few of the kingdoms have grown strong and technologically advanced enough to be able to expand their borders. The thick forests isolate the kingdoms so conflict between the kingdoms is rare, survival is more about battling the elements of the planet than other kingdoms. Two continents dominate the planet with small oceans separating them. Menov’s water seems to be concentrated in the rivers and lakes that cut through the forests that cover the large continents. The larger continent is Nemea, which has a mountain range that runs diagonally through its center. The Obsidian Lions made Anwar Peak their home, greatly expanding the already massive cave system within the mountain. The second continent, Damond, is smaller, but not by much, and is very similar to Nemea but their mountains ranges are much smaller. The vast Gedoc Desert in the center of the continent is its distinctive feature; it is the only sizable dry area on the planet. All rivers seem to flow around the Gedoc and no water flows into the desert. The most distinctive flora on the planet are the forests that canopy the continents and the fauna is varied although the lions top the food chain. The Nemean Lion is the creature that drew the Obsidian Lions to the world, is the largest carnivore on the planet and its razor sharp claws can gouge plasteel. The Nemean Lion is scared to the people of Nemea so it is never hunted unless it attacks an Astartes. The only lion to exist on both continents is the Crephym. The Crephym is a winged lion that is smaller and lighter than the Nemean Lion but is a dangerous predator that rules the skies and mountain peaks of the planet. Another member of the lion family is the Damond Lion, also called a Lightningback because of the golden streak of fur on its back, is the smallest of the lions on Menov. The Damond Lion hunts in packs and has an acidic spit that it uses to lure prey. While the spit itself will not cause take down most animals it on its own it can cause major damage if multiple doses are applied. The Damond Lion will use it to get prey’s attention and lead it into an ambush where the rest of the pride is waiting. Present Activities: Currently their forces are split in two, a Strikeforce was sent to the Masade System to assist with the increasing Necrons presence. The rest of the Chapter has been deployed to fight the Black Crusade. Battle Honors: Wavium Conflict - This battle lead to the schism between the Lions and the Dark Angels. The Lions answered the call to assist the Angels of Absolution in quelling a rebellion. The Lions deployed a sizable force and were to lead the frontal attack while the Angels' Ravenwing was supposed to attack the enemy's flanks. During battle the Angels were nowhere to be found and the Lions were soon engulfed by the opposing forces and the firepower they brought to bear was more than they anticipated. Reinforcements arrived their flagship to turn the tide but the Lions lost more than a full Company and among the casualties was their Chapter Master. What the Lions were not told is that the rebellion was incited by Traitor Marines and among them were suspected Fallen. The death of their Chapter Master lead to blows between the two Chapters and the Obsidian Lions have not answered an Unforgiven heed for assistance since. Redemption Crusades - Following the Wavium Conflict the Lions took time to rebuild their Chapter and restructure. After a few decades they began to lend aid to every call outside of the Unforgiven's that they could. They made sure to show themselves in force and never stretch themselves too thin. They wanted to make amends for turning their backs on their founding Chapter and to prove to themselves that their blade was still sharp. Cebitus Struggle - The Lions responded to reports that Orks had encroached the Cebitus system and suffered their first major defeat. The Lions applied a strike of one hundred Astartes and were pushing the savages back after each battle. The Orks proceeded to crash their ship into the surface killing the long range support iand the swarm of Orks that survived quickly overwhelmed the Lions. There were no survivors but were avenged by a combined effort of the Obsidian Lions and Howling Griffons. This changed how the Lions constructed their strikeforces to make sure they always had contingency support. Xibalba Wars - The Lions fought alongside the Void Angels against the Watchers of Prophecy. When arriving on Vespertilio the Obsidian Lions saw the population in deplorable state, the Watchers had turned the population of the the planet into were-beats. After the initial battles they ruled that the world was beyond reprise and deemed Exterminatus extremis necessary. Shortly after the Void Angels arrived looking for the Watchers of Prophecy. They finally cornered the traitors on the planet Calor and they followed the Watchers into their keep. Once inside they could not be found, some believe that the Tzeentch himself saved them while others say that they had found a webway entrance. Chapter Organization The Obsidian Lions deviate significantly from the Codex Astartes as they feel that their organization allows for more tactical flexibility that was instilled in them by the Howling Griffons. After they severed ties with the Unforgiven they expanded the Dark Angels structure they had adapted to. They saw merit in having specialized units but why just two companies, so they shifted to specialize all their companies. The first and second Companies mirror those of the Dark Angels, Silver Manes and Hunters respectively. The Silver Manes are the Veterans from all of their Companies. Upon reaching the rank of Veteran Knight they join the other veterans of the Chapter, which has led the Silver Manes to rise above 100 Astartes. The Hunters are a fast attack Company like the Ravenwing. The 3rd through 6th are the Chimeras, their Tactical Marines. They are the only units who try to train in all aspects of warfare and are the backbone of all strikeforces. The 7th Company are the Crephyms, their Assault Marines. This Company is an all out assault force and have no bikes or other vehicles attached to them. The 8th Company are the BLANK, the Devastators Company. The 9th is the Iron Company, which is their Armored Company. The Iron Company are skilled in piloting and wielding the devastating power of the Chapter’s tanks and airships. The Iron Company has honed their skills attempting maneuvers and pushing their machines to levels that most other Chapter’s would not even attempt. Finally the 10th is the Scout Company in which all Astartes start their training. They also deviate in how the Astartes are ranked. When a Scout joins any of the Company he has the rank of Squire until he has proven himself in battle. Once he has felt the heat of battle he gains the rank of Brother. From here an Astartes can reach the rank of Knight through battle and through the Broken Sword Tournaments. A Knight are the elites with each Company and it is from here that Sergeants are chosen from. Those who excel are then promoted Veteran Knight and they then join the Silver Manes. In other Companies Astartes earn their rank based solely on their performance, but in the First Company they are directly competing with their fellow Veterans. The top 20 Veteran Knights have the title of Champion-Knight, which is a bittersweet honor because those Astartes who lose the title feel a sense of dishonor. The Champion-Knights can then become a Knight-Captain to one of the Companies of their discipline. Once they have proven their prowess to leading others the can become Knight-Commanders who lead the Strike forces into battle. Fleet Assets The Obsidian Lions are a very active Chapter and have a large fleet of vessels. Lion’s Den – is the Chapter’s flagship Nomadic King – Battle Barge Leo Tenebris – Battle Barge Midnight Prowler – Strike Cruiser Emperor’s Aegis – Strike Cruiser Wrath of Menov – Strike Cruiser Recruitment The Lions primarily recruit from the Kingdoms of Menov. Every generation the Obsidian Lions will request that the kingdoms hold their own tournaments from which recruits will be chosen from. It is a great honor in the kingdoms to have their children inducted into Obsidian Lions. Some families train their children from a very young age for these tournaments. Chapter Master Silver Manes Terminator Hunters Chimaeras Predators Lightningbacks Iron Pride Combat Doctrine The Lions’ principles of war are based on flexibility and applying the proper pressure to the enemy, this has been shaped by their mentors, Howling Griffons, and their progenitors, Dark Angels. The Howling Griffons instilled tactical flexibility in the Lions, to never become too rigid and always use the best tool for the battlefield. The Dark Angels’ Deathwing and Ravenwing showed them how effective specialized Companies can be. The Obsidian Lions create strikeforces for each engagement taking squads of each Company. Normally the larger campaigns are lead by Knight-Commander but for smaller operations a Knight-Captain can lead it. The Strikeforce leader will deduce what elements will be needed to fight the enemy at hand and also what forces he will need for contingency. Local rituals On Menov the Obsidian Lions hold a tournament every year to test an Astartes strength and skill. The tournament includes singles combat, squad-based combat, marksmanship, among other things but the highest honor is to win the Gauntlet. A race through the forests of Nemea with no armor, armed only with a combat knife. The victors of each tournament have the privilege to wear the silver Broken Blade on their left knee until the next tournament. These tournaments are also where a Squire will get their first taste of combat, testing their training to confirm they have what it takes to be an asset on the battlefield. Beliefs The Lions revere the Emperor and their Primarch like any other Chapters with the exception that they feel they have not lived up to Lion El’Johnson’s legacy because they turned their back on the Dark Angels. The first thing they do when becoming an Astartes is to take the Oath of the Broken Blades, an oath to uphold the ideals of the Lion and to never abandon an ally. They hold oaths in a very high regard but compared to the Griffons, the Lions swear few oaths. A completed oath is a source of much personal pride and it is typical for a satisfied oath to be inked onto the skin of the Astartes. On the other side a failed oath brings shame to the Astartes, it is not unknown for an Astartes to take a vow of silence or denounce their rank because they were unable to fulfill an oath. Gene-Seed: Description of origin and current status - Dark Angels, Obviously! Battle Cry “Lion’s Roar!” litany before battle – “The enemy lies at the tip of our blade and it shall weep with their blood.” Champions of the Chapter Asimov - has been the High Commander of the Obsidian Lions for the last century. He is not one to rush into any fight and rarely gives into the battle fury. His level headedness has always allowed him to make sound tactical decisions and to always weigh his options. He is held in high regard by his men because he always leads from the font lines. He is the only High Commander to have never won a tournament for his prowess was on the battlefield. He wields the Broken Blades of Naziel and wears the Silver Fleece. Naziel - was the third Chapter Master of the Obsidian Lions. He was a great warrior who never backed down from a battle and always pushed his men on to glory. But what he is remembered most for is his death. During the Wavium Conflict he was leading the Lions into battle waiting for the Angels of Absolution to attack the enemy's flanks, the Angels never arrived. He was enraged at the constant disregard the Unforgiven had towards his Chapter. With his obsidian blades in had he cut down traitor after traitor until he was killed by a melta blast, then the traitors began to mutilate his body out of anger. When reinforcements arrived and the Lions were able to finally clear a path to Naziel they found his battered body laying next to his broken obsidian swords. This marked the end of the Lion's wanting to live up to their progenitor's ideology and no longer sought their acceptance. Renock - is currently the Chapter's top Champion-Knight. Renock was a Chimaera and was part of he Fifth Company. He was proficient with any weapon that he wields to the point that he one of the few Obsidian Lions to have won every tournament he entered. He is a great combatant but his tactical sense has come into question at times. There are whispers that for all his battle prowess he will never make the rank of Knight-Commander, something that he intends to prove wrong. He is the current owner of the Starwall and wields the Sword of Oaths. Nasla - was recently promoted to Knight-Commander. While he has only fought a few battles since receiving his new rank, Nasla is a seasoned commander as the Knight-Captain of the 4th Company. He is a very reserved individual and never boats about his accolades. He carries the Emperor's Peace. Gar - is the current Knight-Captain of the Predators. Gar is a fearsome close combat fighter, always looking to challenge enemy force's champions. Always looking for combat opportunities that if he is not leading a strikeforce he will volunteer to accompany his men in a different strikeforce. Gar wields the Fateripper and a Nemean Hide. Relics Broken Blades of Naziel - Naziel's blades were taken after the Wavium Conflict and put fitted into a pair of lightning claws replacing the claws. The blades can be protracted for a better reach and also used to penetrate armor. The blades are given to the High Commander upon his ascension. Heart of Anwar - is a master crafted Power Hammer. These hammers were worked on many times to better deal with the dense Menovian rock during the initial expansion of the caves. All the hammers were lost with the exception of one. Later on they were able to use better equipment for the expansion but this power hammer has shown to be a strong weapon of war as much as well powerful tool. Sword of Oaths - This master-crafted claymore was given to the Obsidian Lions by the Howling Griffons after their training had been completed. The Griffons held the Lions in high regard and saw a potential in their fervor. This blade was a symbol of the oath of brotherhood that sworn by the two Chapter Masters.The sword is given to the highest ranked Champion-Knight. Lion's Tail - This cimbi-melta is that was wielded by Galtan on the world of Rayvon. The Lions assaulted the Dark Eldar on this Shrine world to stop the desocration of the the world where the Emperor had visited while he still lead the Great Crusade. The only surviving Lion was allowed to clean his equipment in the moat that surrounded the main cathedral, the moat is said to be blessed for the Emperor himself drank its water. The Lion's Tail has never malfunctioned since that day. Silver Fleece - Menov's rarest and most dangerous predator's, the silver Nemean Lion, hide has special characteristics that create a small field of protection when charge is applied to it. The Nemean Hides are worn only by the Obsidian Lion's officers and the Silver Fleece is a masterpiece among them that is passed from High Commander to High Commander. Tower of Lions - This storm shield was created for the first Chapter Master to receive the tile of High Commander. While the artificers expertly crafted and adorned the shield as a tribute to the new title, the High Commander was unwilling to part with the Blades of Naziel. He asked his Commanders to duel for the shield. Whenever the owner of the shield passes the remaining Commanders and whoever is elevated must duel to see who the new owner is. Trinity of War - The Trinity of War is a set of weapons that was commissioned for the winner of the first Gauntlet tournament. The owner eventually joined the ranks of the Veteran-Knight. Since his death the weapons are dueled for during for during the Broken Blade Tournaments and only one other person since has possessed all three weapons. Fateripper - a master crafted power sword. Emperor's Peace - A master crafted bolt. This weapon is able to shoot a volley of bolts without jamming. Starwall - is a master-crafted combat shield. Whenever the the field is struck the energy ripples resembling a wall of stars.

Index Astartes: Prædicators Origins Brother Norusz' I n the murky annals of antiquity, when the ethereal mists of fear enshrouded the realm, an accursed chronicle emerged, recounting the dread era known as the Year of the Ghosts. It was during these harrowing times that the High Lords of Terra, in their sinister wisdom, decreed the founding of a Chapter, drawn from the twisted lineage of the Silver Skulls, that unhallowed brood begotten by Guilliman's bloodline. Thadru Hucno, known as 'The Void Herald,' was anointed as the inaugural Lord Commander of this accursed assemblage. A man ensnared by his own superstitions, he would, with maddening regularity, utter incantations into the abyss, entranced by the divinations of his soothsayers. From this dread practice sprang the Chapter's name, inscribed in the ancient tongues of High Gothic. This nascent Chapter birthed alongside their enigmatic brethren, was ordained to supplant the eleven Legions that plunged the Segmentum Pacificus into a maelstrom of anarchy, their souls branded Traitoris Perdita during the calamitous War of the False Primarch. Only the most stable strains of gene stock were handpicked to prevent the recurrence of events that birthed an epoch-spanning conflict. The exact number of Chapters formed alongside the Inanis Prædicators remains a shrouded enigma, for many records perished during those turbulent days, lost amidst the labyrinthine halls of the Administratum. Most of the Chapters originating from this secretive genesis adhered rigorously to the organizational and tactical tenets of the revered Codex Astartes. Though akin to the myriad hosts numbering one thousand, the Prædicators, too, attached partially to the scriptures of the Codex yet possessed an ominous penchant for straying from its lesser edicts. Thadru Hucno, incepting the Praedicators on a path that continues to extend for over seven millennia, bestowed upon them an icy reputation that permeates the tapestry of the Imperium. Since their inception, they have embraced a desolate and fatalistic perspective on the plight of mankind, a sombre outlook borne of arcane and abhorrent knowledge that burdens their souls. The harbingers of Hucno's prophetic visions wage war to defy the inescapable, lamenting the exorbitant toll exacted in the face of meagre triumphs against the enemies that beset the Imperium. Yet, they persevere, for that is their irrevocable purpose, etched into their very being. It began a few years after their inception when brethren devoid of psychic predisposition began enduring vivid hallucinatory reveries. Apothecaries of the Chapter now suspect this unholy phenomenon sprang from the gradual corruption of their Catalepsean Node, a malefic blemish concealed within the Chapter's gene seed, an aberration they initially feared to share even amongst their own Astartes kin. These infernal dreams, reminiscent of nightmarish premonitions, eerily echoed the disconcerting divinations unravelled by the Chapter's psychically attuned Prognosticators. As the nocturnal phantasms escalated in their malevolence, the forlorn Praedicators were compelled to seek aid. First, they beseeched the Adeptus Mechanicus, their supplications reaching the ears of the Genator-Magos Abdul Hazred. Yet, their pleas met nought but rejection; the recipients cursed for their apparitions deemed too dreadful to be believed. Others, servants of the Imperium, seemed incapable of discerning the truth, staring blankly into the abyss, oblivious to the futility of mankind within this vast cosmos, the Imperium nought but a mote adrift in a sea of insignificance. The revelation of their genetic mutation merely served to cast the gaze of the Imperium upon the Prædicators, subjecting them to the scorching scrutiny of the Inquisition, cloaked in suspicion and paranoid fear. Faced with such unfathomable levels of trepidation and mistrust, the Praedicators have learned the grim art of silence, patiently awaiting the emergence of individuals genuinely receptive to their dire auguries. Denounced for straying from the Imperial Creed, the Chapter was consigned to a purgatory along the isolated southern fringes of the Imperium. Their presence, a lingering vestige of utility to the Imperium, was meticulously situated along this penitent exile, an endeavour to rekindle the waning power and influence of the Adeptus Astartes until the day they might once more claim their birthright as Guilliman's true progeny in both thought and deed. The inexorable onslaught of unfathomable visions and nightmarish visitations has irrevocably altered the fabric of their existence. Unlike their brethren, descendants of Guilliman who yearned to embark on the pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Primarch upon his unforeseen return, the Prædicators harboured no such desires. Nor have they prostrated themselves before him since his enigmatic resurrection, for their visions have cast them into the shadow of ostracism, shunned even by those Astartes who share their cursed gene seed. Recruitment Veiled Region' I mmersed in the duty of safeguarding the periphery of the enigmatic Segmentum Tempestus from the encroachment of otherworldly beings, an expeditionary fleet helmed by the Prædicators found themselves entrusted with the ominous task of charting the enigmatic recesses of the Veiled Region. Without this audacious exploration, the meagre navigation threads available in this accursed expanse would persist, rendering travel through its realms arduous and perilous. The Veiled Region, cloaked in its tenebrous essence, remained a harbinger of instability, where ethereal nebulas conspired to hinder communication and the surge of psionic radiation ensnared vessels, casting them adrift for days on end, severed from the tempestuous Immaterium's grasp. Yet, amidst these grave perils, one of the most foreboding dangers lay in its estrangement from Astropathic communion, where psychic entreaties echoed into an abyssal void, met only by the spectral silence that echoed in return. It was solely through the uncanny expertise of the fleet's Navigators that this perilous endeavour was sanctioned, their intrepid exploits offering insight into the expedition's eventual triumph. Devoid of their guidance, the fleet would have been condemned to the whims of reality's shattering fissures, pervading nebulas, and boundless celestial mists. Within this hitherto unknown and forsaken cosmic oblivion, the expeditionary fleet chanced upon an unfathomable enigma: human settlements, whose very existence had been vehemently denied. Imperial law forbade such encampments, yet the populations encountered by the fleet defied adversity, thriving despite their estrangement from the guiding illumination of the Astronomicon. More bewildering still was the constant ebb and flow of vessels, brazenly flouting numerous Imperial decrees to bestow supplies and much-needed commerce. A myriad of craft, spanning from merchants and miners to scavengers and prison hulks, even the occasional personal flagship of a Rogue Trader accompanied by its entourage, traversed this stygian expanse with unnerving regularity. Devoid of these manifold visitors, the far-flung bastions of humanity would be marooned, cut off from one another and vulnerable, their protection forsaken. The Imperium, reliant on the delicate tapestry of interstellar trade, recognized that most core worlds need not strive for self-sufficiency, instead specializing in producing select goods or resources supplemented by essential commodities procured from beyond their borders. Devoid of the ceaseless flow of star-faring vessels coursing through the Veiled Region, the existence of interstellar commerce would wither, dooming the acquisition of vital weaponry and supplies necessary to safeguard these worlds from plunging into the depths of abyssal night. Voyaging beyond the confines of the Imperium wrought an arduous and perilous odyssey upon the intrepid travellers, where their antique vessels' formidable engines hurled them into the unknown abyss of the Immaterium. This sinister art eluded the understanding of the Mechanicus, mired in the morass of this forsaken forty-first millennium. Once ensnared within the boundless expanse of warp space, these vessels traversed thousands of light-years within fleeting moments, only to plunge back into the Materium, their arrival distant from their departure in space and time. The Warp, an insatiable Leviathan, ceaselessly hungered for these hapless vessels, ensnaring them within its maelstrom of perpetual turbulence and treacherous tempests. To undertake even the slightest voyage through the Warp demanded unparalleled dedication, a tenuous grasp on sanity, or a flagrant disregard for the lives ensconced aboard. The alternative—a perilous journey through realspace, bereft of the Warp's thrumming engines—presented its own hazards and enigmas. Yet, here lay worlds visited by freebooters and mercantile potentates, arriving from every conceivable vector, defying all conventional wisdom. In the foreboding realm of the forty-first millennium, those who dwell upon star-faring vessels are not mere travellers amidst the celestial expanse but products of generations steeped in the sombre obscurity betwixt worlds. They are the Void Born, an enigmatic few amidst the teeming masses of humanity, a peculiar gathering of misfits, strangers, and ill-omened souls birthed within the bowels of vessels that spend ages traversing the astral tapestry. Upon terrestrial realms, the Void Born are met with disdain, shunned for their ethereal essence, deemed bearers of ill fortune, ensnared by secrecy, and bereft of trust. Most imperial denizens and the denizens dwelling on the fringes of society believe that the Void Born have been touched by the Warp in some unfathomable manner. The Warp's gravitational vagaries, radiation's pernicious embrace, genetic distortions, and chaotic anomalies etch their malevolent toll upon the Void Born. On land, they carry an uncanny aura, a palpable something that evokes unease in others. The plight of the Void Born resonated with the Praedicators, for they, too, were bereft of a proper home, ostracized without just cause. Empathy surged within the depths of Hucno's being. The Void Born, inextricably linked to the myriad abominations lurking within the outer darkness, possessed a resilience to the enthralling grasp of the Warp. This revelation inspired the Lord Commander, igniting the notion that the Void Born could serve as a wellspring for recruiting the aspirants destined to safeguard the Prædicators' future. Bereft of a Homeworld, the Chapter faced the grim prospect of gradual attrition through combat losses and the inexorable march of time, even for the indomitable Astartes. Thus, with their course set, the Praedicators settled into their vigil, patrolling the enigmatic fringes of the Veiled Region. A perilous calling it remained, with small flotillas manoeuvring amidst dense nebulae and nascent stars, assaulted by surges of radiation exuded by discarded stellar matter. They persevered because they were cloaked from reinforcements and severed from communication by swathes of stellar dust. Their path meandered along the galactic south of the Segmentum Tempestus, whence emerged the raiders and despoilers of the abhorrent Xenos. Through grim determination, the Void Heralds learned to navigate these treacherous environs, or they met their demise. The survivors, in turn, became stewards of the surrounding cosmic domains, most notably the Ainu System, the Nahmu Stars, and the Hypnis Expanse. Ramilles Class Star-fort The Apothecaries and Chaplains of the Prædicators, bound by the edicts of Lord Commander Hucno, scoured the vast city-sized vessels that plied the void, recruiting aspirants exclusively from their midst. Such was the sacred duty to ensure that only the most resilient of mind and genetically suitable candidates entered the Chapter's hallowed ranks. Recruitment was laborious and tortuous, bereft of a centralized pool of potential aspirants. The Chaplains found themselves entangled in labyrinthine webs of politics interwoven among the thousands of ship crews. They became embroiled in complex networks of feuds, alliances, and petty wars while striving to maintain a precarious balance. A single misstep, the wrongful elimination of a crewmember with the potential for ascension, risked jeopardizing the very fabric of the void-born population, impairing their capacity to crew vessels and robbing the Chapter of invaluable future recruits. Brought forth into the embrace of Cetus, the Ramilles Class Star-fort and fortress-monastery, the Void Born aspirants stood poised for induction into the Prædicators. As they beheld the grandeur of Cetus, some succumbed to a rapturous, trance-like state, overwhelmed by its magnificence. These failed aspirants were consigned to serve the Chapter in alternative capacities. Yet those who could withstand the sight of Cetus without succumbing gradually acclimated to its peculiar ecosystem. Vast portions of the vessel were dedicated to emulating diverse combat environments for rigorous training, while sprawling sectors were consecrated to meditation. Extraordinary chambers and vaults adorned with tapestries depicting nightmarish visions awaited their arrival, but the seemingly endless barren halls were the greatest. In these desolate corridors, neophytes embarked upon the arduous journey of psycho-indoctrination, enduring gruelling biological and genetic trials. Implantation with gene-seed, the lifeblood sustaining them through a lifetime of horrors, transformed their frail bodies into instruments of annihilation. Thus, the Void Born, reborn as Void Heralds, transcended their former humble and fragile existence, emerging as the epitome of humanity, perfected warriors and dutiful servants of the Imperium. Darkholds Darkholds The Darkholders, the Void Born from the spacefaring vessels with the darkest of reputations, make up a greater proportion of the Chapter’s Chaplaincy than any other source. . Among the shadowed abyss of spacefaring vessels, a cabal of ominous repute known as the Darkholders exists. These enigmatic Void Born shrouded in the darkest of legends, wield an unprecedented influence within the Chaplaincy of the Prædicators. Their origins are cloaked in tales of malevolent curses, desolate destinies, infamous massacres, macabre acts of cannibalism, and the lingering echoes of haunting spectres that transcend the realm of mortal comprehension. Whispers of their existence permeate the corridors of cosmic lore, instilling trepidation in those with the wisdom to perceive their sinister essence. The Darkholders, a breed apart from their brethren, bear the weight of a legacy steeped in ancient, forbidden knowledge. They possess an intimate understanding of the veiled truths that lie dormant within the endless chasms of space, secrets whispered only in the hushed corridors of cosmic dread. Their very existence treads the fine line between sanity and madness, where reason falters and the shadows of the void cast long, maddening tendrils upon their souls. Imbued with a sombre aura that sets them apart from their kin, the Darkholders move amidst the ranks of the Chaplaincy as harbingers of unspoken horrors. Each step they take reverberates with the weight of untold darkness, their countenances marked by the deep-seated knowledge of unspeakable terrors lurking beyond the threshold of mortal comprehension. To witness their presence is to glimpse the gaping abyss that swallows the unwary, a foreboding glimpse into the abyssal depths of cosmic malevolence. Those who possess the sagacity to discern the true nature of the Darkholders cannot help but feel a chill wind of unease sweep through their hearts. They are an enigma wrapped in riddles, a mysterious force transcending mortal understanding. The tales that swirl around them, borne on the fringes of whispers and half-forgotten accounts, paint a portrait of abominations that defy the boundaries of rationality and plunge the unwary into the grip of unutterable dread. Within the hallowed halls of the Chaplaincy, the Darkholders stand as sombre sentinels, their eyes glistening with the unsettling knowledge of the cosmic abyss. They channel the primal forces that dwell within the darkest recesses of the human psyche, drawing upon eldritch energies that defy the laws of reason. Their sermons, resonating with an otherworldly cadence, weave a tapestry of foreboding prophecies and dire admonitions, leading the faithful down treacherous paths that few dare to traverse. The veil between the mortal realm and the eldritch realms of chaos grows thin in their presence. Whispers of forgotten gods and ancient horrors permeate the air, mingling with the acrid scent of incense and the echoes of anguished supplications. The Darkholders embody the chilling paradox of enlightenment and damnation with their esoteric rituals and arcane incantations. They are the bridge between the mundane and the unfathomable, a conduit through which mortal souls may glimpse the maddening truths that lie beyond the threshold of mortal perception. To encounter a Darkholder is to stare into the eyes of the abyss and witness the abyss staring back. They embody humanity's darkest fears, a vessel through which the terrors of the cosmos manifest. In their presence, the air grows heavy with unspeakable dread, and the fabric of reality quivers with an intangible, eldritch energy. They are the heralds of the nameless horrors that lurk within the void, and their enigmatic presence is a constant reminder of the fragility of mortal existence in a universe teeming with unfathomable malevolence. Battlefield Doctrine P Per the ancient Codex Astartes penned by Roboute Guilliman, the Praedicators, like their predecessors, the Silver Skulls, hold steadfast to its sacred teachings. Their adherence to these principles serves as a shield, guarding the Chapter from the Inquisition's prying eyes and their knowledge from the encroaching shadows. Yet, even in their unwavering dedication, a haunting truth lingers in their thoughts—an understanding that all they hold dear may one day be consumed by the abyss. But war is their purpose, their raison d'être, and through conflict, the Heralds find solace, their last bastion of pride and satisfaction. Bound by their nature as a Fleet Based Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes, the Praedicators adhere to a tactical orthodoxy that stems from their limited numbers. They are the true bearers of the appellation "Space Marines," embodying the essence of precision and lethality. Unlike the faceless masses of the Astra Militarum, their role is not that of a blunt instrument but rather that of a surgical scalpel, delivering calculated and devastating strikes. Millennia of unyielding combat indoctrination has moulded them into a formidable force, with efficiency on the battlefield as their only respite from the overwhelming cost and the encroaching darkness that looms relentlessly. Upon breaching the hull of an enemy vessel or making planetfall on an uncharted world, the Praedicators employ their precognitive psychic abilities in a predominantly defensive manner. Techmarines and commanding officers orchestrate strategic fire bases, employing skilled marksmen and interlocking fields of fire to suppress the advance of assailants. Meanwhile, assault forces lie in wait, poised to unleash swift and devastating raids, striking from all sides in a calculated display of chaos. These assaults serve a dual purpose, inflicting substantial damage upon the enemy and sowing seeds of confusion within their ranks. The Praedicators mourn the toll of war and believe their adversaries should suffer the same fate. They fear not death on the battlefield, but rather the insidious descent into madness plagues the Void Born. For this reason, they offer no quarter and expect none in return. Much like their predecessors, the Prædicators are known for their reluctance to come to the aid of others, for they know too well the absence of allies, and oftentimes their divinations reveal the exorbitant price that such assistance would demand. This fact perhaps explains their enduring survival and their scarcity of allies, even among their Astartes brethren. Some foolish adversaries mistakenly perceive the defensively-minded Praedicators as inert and sluggish, a grievous misjudgment that brings nought but misery upon the enemies of mankind. When the Chapter deems it necessary to seize ground, they do so with an overwhelming force that maintains an unwavering offensive momentum at all costs. Yet, their assaults are not impulsive or ill-prepared. Before engaging the enemy directly, they orchestrate meticulously coordinated orbital bombardments, unleashing the fury of their vast fleet assets. Waves of drop-pod infantry and agile Thunderhawk-deployed vehicles join the fray, ensuring a seamless integration of light and heavy support. Chapter Scouts, often tasked with gathering vital intelligence, face the enemy under perilous and treacherous circumstances. They risk life and limb to acquire precious knowledge, which serves to corroborate and expand upon the divinations procured by the Prognosticators. The Scouts' hard-won insights are then utilised to disrupt enemy supply lines through sabotage and demolition, as well as to eliminate critical targets through covert assassination and preemptive strikes. Their collective actions are often misinterpreted as acts of bravery and courage. In truth, the Praedicators stand resolute before the Imperium's foes, unflinching, for they hold themselves in contempt, believing their worth to be nought. It is the Chaplains who walk among them on the field of battle, stoking the embers of their purpose and reminding them of their solemn duty, that they find the strength to continue the fight. Without their unwavering leadership, the Praedicators would succumb to the darkest thoughts—the desire for death, the yearning for despair, and the longing for annihilation into the void of nothingness. Organisation A n observer from afar would struggle to discern any notable distinctions between the enigmatic Prædicators and a chapter bound by the rigid tenets of the Codex, much like the illustrious Ultramarines. Throughout their storied history, the Prædicators have striven to embody the essence of Codex adherence, although the exigencies of their nomadic existence as a fleet-based chapter necessitate a degree of flexibility. Isolated elements of their fleet, forced to adapt their tactics to the resources at hand, exemplify this need for adaptability. Furthermore, their ill-fated reputation has rendered them reliant on their capabilities, bereft of direct Imperial support, setting them apart from the Codex-compliant chapters comfortably integrated into the greater war machine of the Imperium. Brother Keghi Deviation from the Codex Astartes becomes apparent in the higher echelons of the Prædicators' organization. Like all chapters, they boast a cadre of officers and specialists who transcend the confines of the company structure. The Chapter Master assumes the title of Lord Commander, as per the ancient tradition inherited from their predecessors, the Silver Skulls. The Librarians, known as Prognosticators, share the mantle of spiritual advisors alongside their brethren-chaplains. These psychic warriors, attuned to the arcane forces of the Warp, serve as the seers of the Chapter, divining glimpses of the future through their mystic arts. Wherever their visions guide them, they bestow upon the squads and companies they have attached an undeniable advantage in the impending clashes. The Chapter's extensive support staff comprises esteemed individuals such as the Master of the Fleet and senior Captains, including the Keeper of the Arsenal, the Abyssal Watcher, and the Warden of the Watch. Each Captain is a Space Marine, but the number of Brethren within the Chapter's support staff remains relatively small. Most non-combat roles are filled by the Chapter's human serfs, while the armourers and Techmarines, the Prædicators' Space Marines in the support staff, toil diligently with the aid of countless mono-task Servitors. The Chapter's non-combatant members, often elderly and burdened with the day-to-day administration of the Chapter, form a significant portion of the support staff. In adherence to the Codex structure, the ten companies comprise the most experienced Veterans among the Chapter's ranks, who compose the first Company. These sagacious warriors, their wisdom immeasurable, are embedded within the Battle Companies, sharing their knowledge with their brethren. They are deployed in small units, armed like Tactical squads, albeit enhanced with advanced scopes and specialized ammunition. Only the most seasoned Veterans earn the privilege of donning the scarce Terminator armour available to the Chapter. Unless dire circumstances demand their presence on the battlefield, these revered suits stand sentinel, silently watching over the Forge on Cetus. The Prædicator Techmarines have gone to great lengths to salvage fallen Terminator armours, ensuring their return to the fray again. The 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th Companies, adhering faithfully to the Codex's enigmatic lines, stand as Battle Companies, an integral component of the Prædicators' martial structure. Within each Company reside six battleline squads, accompanied by two close support squads and two fire support squads. These formidable assemblages and their formidable fleets compose the vanguard of the Chapter, bearing the weight of conflict, be it upon terrestrial realms or amidst the boundless void. Their autonomy grants them a versatility unmatched, adapting tactically to the ever-shifting tides of warfare. Companies 6 and 7, shrouded in secrecy, remain reserves, their ranks comprising ten battleline squads. They serve as a bulwark, ready to reinforce the front lines, unleash diversionary strikes, or halt the audacious flanking manoeuvres of their adversaries. Alas, the scarcity of recruits ensures these companies seldom achieve their full complement. The 7th Company, some whisper, exists merely in name, its presence vanishing into the mists of uncertainty. The 8th Company, an embodiment of swift aggression, rallies beneath the banner of ten close support squads. These highly mobile warriors, often bedecked with jump packs, emerge as an onslaught force, their purpose resolute in the face of fortified bastions that dare oppose them. With ferocious determination, they surge forward, carving a path through the enemy's stout defences. Unlike their progenitors, the Silver Skulls, whose 9th Company embraces the mantle of a siege company, the Prædicators' 9th Company dutifully adheres to the sacred doctrines dictated by the Codex. Comprising ten Fire Support Squads, this formidable Company epitomises martial might within the Chapter. Armed with an arsenal of devastating weaponry, they fortify defensive positions and unleash long-range barrages, bolstering their brethren and holding the line against the encroaching darkness. The 10th Company, a gathering of youthful aspirants partially transformed into Space Marines, emerges as a cadre of Scout squads. Unconstrained by formalized constraints of size, their recruitment remains fluid, adapting to the ebb and flow of potential candidates. This unique Company eschews the possession of its own fleet, instead operating directly from the confines of Cetus. They never engage as a unified force, but rather are dispersed among other fleets, giving their presence a chance to glean wisdom and experience from their seasoned kin. With the exception of the Scout Company, each of the companies retains its fleet of transports and Drop pods, ensuring swift deployment for their squads and officers. Rarer implements of destruction, including the formidable Land Raiders, find haven within the sanctums of the armoury, their allocation dictated by the exigencies of missions or at the behest of a Captain entrenched in the throes of a campaign. Such relics of war hold no air of awe and reverence, symbols of potent might wielded by the chosen few. Chapter Cult and Belief System Chapter Badge' P lagued by haunting dreams that weave an insidious tapestry of dread, the enigmatic Prædicators, born within the icy womb of the void, possess an intimate knowledge of the incomprehensible perils lurking within the outer darkness. As remnants of their pre-Astartes existence continue to cling to their being, an intangible presence engulfs them, casting an unsettling aura that disquiets even their fellow Astartes from other Chapters. These Heralds, firsthand witnesses to the abominations that infest the depths of space, stand resolute against the multitudinous enemies of the Emperor. Their intimate acquaintance with the cosmic horrors lurking within the starry expanse compels them to shield their brotherhood from the evils they are sworn to vanquish. Thus, they embrace a life of renunciation, a rejection of the looming shadows that forever dwell beyond the protective hulls of their vessels. Deep within the Librarium's recesses, the Prognosticators' minds extend their ethereal gaze into the frigid expanse of the cosmos, their sight surpassing the meagre imaginings of their less gifted brethren. In fleeting moments, their psychic faculties pierce the veil of encroaching darkness, beholding the briefest glimpse of an eternity of maddening and ancient lunacy. These eldritch visions unfold from realms that defy mortal comprehension, overwhelming their senses with contradictions that unravel the very fabric of existence. Rarely do they dare to speak of the sinister enigma that lies beneath the thin veneer of their illusory connection to humanity, for such revelations are both gift and burden, leaving their minds seared and tormented. The Brothers perceive a senseless, mechanical universe devoid of care or compassion. The transience of all things plunges humanity into a maelstrom of meaninglessness. They have desperately averted their gazes and yearned to awaken from these harrowing nightmares, yet their understanding remains elusive, their minds stretched and pulled to the brink. Staring intensely into the void for so long, they find it now stares back at them—a distorted reflection of their own transformation: reclusive, withdrawn, and taciturn—denizens of the impenetrable depths. No ordinary Prædicator shall be remembered, for legacies are destined to be consumed by the ravenous flames of time. Only the stars shall endure, recounting tales of mankind's triumphs and achievements, albeit futilely, for every memory, artefact, and settled world shall succumb to the entropic embrace. Amidst this bleak panorama, the most solemn duty befalls the Apothecarion, their paradoxical role to prepare for a future that appears to elude all grasp. Millennia of screeching divinations and tormenting dreams have left the Prædicators with nought but a frigid, senseless taste of hopelessness. Their endeavours pale compared to the fate that awaits them all—a future that shall turn everything to dust. The time of humanity has reached its culmination, no longer belonging to the only realm it has ever known. This tenet disturbs the Ecclesiarchy, as it denies the existence of their God-Emperor and challenges everything He stands for and defends. It places the Prædicators in direct opposition to the Adeptus Mechanicus, particularly the Techmarines within their ranks, who have sworn ancient pacts to the Omnissiah. Finding a follower of the Imperial Cult not openly hostile to what they consider blasphemy is impossible. And if the Prædicators were to sow their dissenting thoughts into the mind of one receptive to their message... that day would be the darkest of all. The Prædicators reject the concept of the God-Emperor, for perpetuating such an idea—that a deity can save them from the insurmountable—only serves to deny the bitter truth of their isolation and the crushing hopelessness that pervades the grand scheme of existence. The realization of an inexorable fate, creeping through the galaxy like a serpentine Void Stalker closing in on its prey, seeps into the hearts of all. Save for the one who now sits upon the Golden Throne, mankind could never fathom, fully comprehend, or explain the nature of fate. Yet, it draws near, almost tangible to all. And the Prædicators believe that it shall be recognized as a blessed release when every citizen of the Imperium acknowledges that their destiny lies no longer in anyone's hands. The Prædicators bear no particular animosity toward the Xenos races, though they would gladly extinguish them. While all Xenos pose a threat to humanity, they are neither inherently good nor evil. The greatest among these otherworldly species are merely incomprehensible cosmic forces impervious to the constraints of morality. They exist within astral realms far beyond human understanding, and while they cannot serve as a bulwark against the encroaching darkness, their very existence may hasten its inexorable advance. By this stark logic, they must perish if mankind is to cling to life a while longer in this uncaring galaxy. While the Deathwatch and the Ordo Xenos' methods may be seen as narrow and flawed, the assignment of individual Prædicators to Watch Stations or Fortresses is celebrated, for the annihilation of the Inhuman stands as one of the last vestiges of noble purpose within the cosmos. Amidst this darkest of millennia, it stands with a towering majesty, offering a flicker of hope to those who have long lost all. Prognosticators The Prognosticators, a sombre breed of hybrid officers, bear the weighty mantle of both Librarian and Chaplain, roles typically divided among distinct echelons within other Chapters. While the Chaplains of the Praedicators focus primarily on recruiting and training new aspirants, the Prognosticators assume the arduous task of guiding and shepherding the veteran Brethren, tending to the psychic and mental well-being of the Chapter's warriors. These solemn warriors emerge as seers, delving into the dreams of their brethren or engaging in divination to glimpse the portents of the future. Their insights bestow upon the squads and companies they accompany a good foresight for the impending battles. The Chapter holds these revelations in utmost reverence to the extent that, on certain occasions, the Prognosticators have successfully dissuaded the Chapter from entangling itself in specific wars. Yet, such prudence often engenders further suspicion upon an already mistrusted Chapter. This delicate balance sometimes forces the companies to partake in conflicts they know will culminate in their own defeat. Adorning the armour of a Prognosticator, one may discover pendants and badges of office, etched with arcane marks and sigils, chthonic symbols that penetrate the surface. These embellishments are not mere ornamentation; they serve as conduits, channelling and focusing the Prognosticator's psychic prowess. Given their sacred charge as guardians of the psychic and spiritual well-being of the Praedicators, it is a rare occurrence for a Prognosticator to undertake the Apocryphon Oath and serve a Vigil of the Long Watch alongside the Deathwatch, the martial arm of the Ordo Xenos. When a Watch Commander accepts a Prognosticator into their Watch Fortress, they gain the service of an individual with unparalleled skill and aptitude. The Prognosticator's command over the arts of the Librarian and the duties of the Chaplain proves invaluable, but their true greatness lies in their ability to extend their influence to every Battle Brother with whom they serve. Through their ministrations, these warriors are imbued with an otherworldly inspiration, undertaking epic feats of courage while the currents of history are subtly diverted, allowing them to return to their respective chapters as revered heroes. It is whispered that the Prædicators have garnered a shred of trustworthiness solely through the actions of those rare Prognosticators who have pledged the Oath. Apothecaries In the realm of the Praedicators, the most solemn of individuals are bestowed the most solemn of tasks, burdened with the harrowing duty of tending to the physical well-being of their battle brothers. A Narthecium scan, that meticulous instrument of healing employed by medics across the Imperium, can only reveal a fraction of the wounds that beset these warriors. For within the depths of their souls lie injuries that defy the touch of a scalpel, damages that no balm can assuage. The emotional anguish that gnaws at the hearts of the Praedicators, the festering scars borne from their own accursed nightmares, eludes the grasp of lesser apothecaries. The Void Born Apothecary, attuned to the ephemeral horrors that haunt the shadows of his brethren's minds, possesses an intimate acquaintance with the torment that besieges them. He, too, carries the weight of emotional scars etched deep within his psyche, a testament to the bleak kinship he shares with those he tends to. The echoes of unspeakable nightmares reverberate through the corridors of his thoughts, an ever-present reminder of the fragility of sanity in a universe fraught with eldritch terrors. The Praedicators, the ill-starred sentinels of the void, navigate treacherous celestial seas where even the brightest stars cast baleful shadows. Once suffused with hope and valour, their souls are now smothered beneath the suffocating pall of despair. Witnessing the slow erosion of their resolve, the inexorable descent into a maddening abyss is a cruel fate bestowed upon these mournful healers. Each wound they mend, each body they save, serves as a fleeting respite from their own existential anguish—a bitter irony that underscores the relentless futility of their task. For what solace can be found in the mending of flesh and bone when the very fabric of their being unravels in the face of cosmic malevolence? As they peer into the abyssal depths of their brethren's suffering, their hearts are shackled by the knowledge that their efforts are feeble gestures against an encroaching darkness that defies comprehension. The wounds that mar their souls cannot be sutured, for they are borne of nightmares that transcend human understanding. In the forlorn corridors of their minds, the Void Born Apothecaries walk a path strewn with shattered remnants of hope. They tend to the physical infirmities of their battle brothers, their Nartheciums poised to mend broken bodies, yet they are acutely aware of the insidious wounds that fester beyond the reach of their instruments. The Praedicators, haunted custodians of the void's secrets, embody a solemnity born of cosmic despair, their souls entwined with the fabric of their forlorn existence. Techmarines Among the enigmatic ranks of the Prædicators, those who possess an uncanny affinity for the machinations of technology are dispatched to the red planet Mars, where ancient pacts forged with the Adeptus Mechanicus millennia ago await fulfilment. There, amidst the labyrinthine halls of the Martian tech cults, they undergo a metamorphosis; their very souls rent asunder by a triality of nightmarish proportions. This agonizing transformation, however, is deemed a necessary sacrifice, for without the Techmarines, the Prædicators would be bereft of the means to commune with the capricious machine spirits, to perform the sacred rites that ensure the continued operation of their esoteric wargear, to mend the ravages inflicted upon their war-torn bodies, or to tend to the inexorable demands of their vast fleet. Emerging from their arcane tutelage on the crimson world, the Techmarines return as spectres cloaked in deeper layers of mystique and inscrutability. Their countenances bear the weight of secrets unfathomable, rendering them distant and detached from their brethren. Their mysterious ways confound the minds of their battle-brothers, for the Techmarines themselves grapple with the fragments of their own shattered identity. Lost in a labyrinth of doubt, they ponder the disquieting notion that if even their revered Machine God is subject to the cruel erosion of time, then what semblance of truth can their newfound faith truly possess? The Techmarines of the Prædicators, their existence a tapestry woven with strands of conflicting ideologies—the Liber Mechanicus and the Omnissiah; the sacred duty entrusted to their Chapter; and the nihilistic creed that claws at the edges of their psyche—strive ceaselessly to unravel this triadic enigma that rends their souls asunder. In their fervent desire for eternity, they recoil from the notion that nought can be deemed fundamental unless it is eternal. Amidst the Prædicators, the Prognosticators, those diviners of dreams, weave cryptic tales recounting fragmented impressions birthed from slumberous minds. Yet, their visions coalesce into a singular and unsettling narrative, a nightmare of proportions far from ordinary. They speak of a subterranean prison, a stygian abyss lurking beneath the surface, wherein dwells an indomitable presence that stands towering, its form spanning miles yet possessed of an uncanny semblance of flesh and blood. The air trembles with the whisper of vast wings, and within the cavernous recesses, a pair of abhorrent claws scuttle with sinister intent. How diminutive the Techmarines appear in the presence of those unhallowed appendages, a chilling testament to their own insignificance in the face of cosmic monstrosity. They feel the latent stirrings of this eldritch entity, the shifting sands above its ancient prison, and they are consumed by an all-encompassing dread, a fear that takes hold with an iron grip. Yet, paradoxically, they cling to these visions, for in their fragmented tapestry lie the veiled whispers of priceless relics and arcane STC files awaiting discovery. Ultimately, fear and doubt become mere incidental companions, inexorably intertwined with their existence, to be borne stoically at any cost. In the shadowed depths of their psyche, the Techmarines of the Prædicators navigate a treacherous labyrinth, their souls rent asunder by the discordant symphony of competing beliefs. The weight of their divinely ordained duties, their ceaseless pursuit of eternal truth, and the gnawing nihilism that haunts their every waking moment intertwine, forging a solemn tapestry of inner turmoil. They tread the precipice between salvation and damnation, their spirits shackled by the inexorable march of cosmic entropy. Forever shall they strive, their beings forever teetering on the brink of madness, for theirs is a fate entwined with the inscrutable machinations of the universe itself. House Vibro Novator Italki Vibro' O nce a prestigious bastion of the Navis Nobilite, House Vibro, with its ancestral estate nestled within the hallowed Navigator's Quarter of Holy Terra, now languishes in the depths of pauperdom, a mere spectre of its former glory. Once propelled by lofty aspirations and political manoeuvrings, the ebb and flow of their fortunes met their dismal nadir through a calamitous confluence of petty rivalries, subterfuge, and Machiavellian machinations. The dire event that would forever stain their lineage was known as The Tainting, an insidious plot wherein agents of the rival House Numa ensnared a pivotal heiress of House Vibro in a matrimonial web with the obscure House Nostromo. What appeared to be a strategic union aimed at consolidating power and securing prosperity revealed itself as an ill-fated misstep, as the ancient seed of madness embedded within the Nostromo bloodline seeped inexorably into the once-idyllic family tree of House Vibro. Like a venomous serpent coiled in the shadows, the repercussions slithered through the annals of generations, entwining the destinies of the two houses in an inextricable embrace. Driven to desperation by the socio-political fallout and the festering stigma attached to their name, House Vibro relinquished their ancestral seat, embarking on a desperate quest to forge a new legacy in a system untainted by the lingering insanity of House Nostromo. Guided by the stars, their journey led them through the cosmic void until they found solace amidst the celestial tapestry of Ulthar in the Ainu System. In the cosmic depths, they fashioned their modest palace, adapting slowly to the weightless expanse surrounding them. Their forms, once sturdy and robust, now took on a pallid, ethereal hue, their limbs elongated and sinuous, reminiscent of celestial tendrils reaching for the ineffable mysteries of the cosmos. Their survival hinged upon a pact struck with the captains of vessels that traversed the cosmic expanse. Merchants, miners, scavengers, prison ships, and the occasional enigmatic Rogue Traders sought their services, for within the treacherous Veiled Region, House Vibro had garnered a reputation as the preeminent Navigators, the guiding stars in the impenetrable darkness. Their association with the Prædicators, born out of dire necessity, endured through the ages. The Astartes, mired in their purgatorial sentence, required the expertise of House Vibro to map the treacherous, ever-shifting expanses within the Veiled Region. In turn, House Vibro saw an opportunity to amass political capital and prestige in this alliance, aligning themselves with the revered Adeptus Astartes. With each successful mapping of the perilous cosmic abyss, House Vibro secured an exclusive Charter Navigae, entrusting them with the solemn duty of providing Navigators for the entire fleet of the Void Heralds. A clandestine clause within the contract acknowledged the occasional descent into madness exhibited by the descendants of the long-dead House Nostromo. To compensate for the attrition of Navigators, House Vibro ensured an ample supply of replacements for each fleet, accompanied by a special attaché tasked with smoothing over any diplomatic incidents. Among these overseers was Novator Italki Vibro, entrusted with supervising the Cetus, the Chapter's space-bound fortress-monastery. In the intertwined fate of the Prædicators and House Vibro, a sombre fatalism binds them, their souls attuned to the enigmatic nature of reality and the portentous destiny that befalls mankind. This shared understanding, veiled from the comprehension of the masses, forms the bedrock of their enduring alliance. Each faction perceives the other as an invaluable asset, a sanctuary in a world fraught with uncertainty. House Vibro, in their vast network of scions serving among the captains and leaders of various enterprises, shares vital information with the Chaplains of the Prædicators through these Navigators, sons and daughters of the House, who traverse the vast reaches of the Imperium alongside merchants, miners, and even enigmatic Rogue Traders, a wealth of knowledge flows, illuminating the Prædicators' path amidst the immense cosmos. Threats are discerned, the pulse of the galaxy is felt, and, most crucially, prospective recruits are identified, guiding the Chapter in their eternal quest for new brethren. In a testament to the ancient bond that unites House Vibro and the Prædicators, the Lord Commander ensures the presence of a ten-man squad of Prædicators, known as the Starsouls, to serve as the House's protectors. These solemn guardians not only fulfil their duties as stalwart sentinels but may be called upon to train and lead House Vibro's troops, undertake covert operations on their behalf, or stand vigilant aboard the Vibro trading vessels that ply the cosmic currents. Bound by their sacred oath, the Starsouls swear to serve the Novator of House Vibro as dutifully as they would their Lord Commander. In this ancient accord, the symbol of the Void Stalker, emblematic of the Prædicators, finds its place upon the Vibro family crest, an enduring symbol of their intertwined destinies. Yet the assignment of a Starsoul is a lonely and solitary existence, even by the austere standards of the Prædicators, accustomed as they are to the genuine camaraderie of their brethren. Those who weather the trials required to maintain the age-old pact between navigator house and Astartes chapter emerge as vital assets. Their experiences within the broader expanse of the Imperium, akin to those who serve their vigil with the Deathwatch, grant them a profound understanding when interacting with allied Imperial forces—a comprehension that eludes the majority of their brethren. Their diplomatic adaptability renders them indispensable emissaries, esteemed by Prædicator captains who embarked upon their arduous campaigns. Among the few elders who have witnessed the shifting tides of House Vibro's fate, memories of a bygone era, when another alliance steeped in ambition and power crumbled into madness and oblivion, remain scarce. The Prædicators' enigmatic visions offer no solace, concealing truths that may be deliberately withheld from their newfound allies. Only time, that relentless arbiter of destinies, will unveil whether the ancient Navigators of House Vibro perceive something that eludes even the Novator. For now, at least officially, the binding of House and Chapter remains a rare source of pride and rekindled hope, flickering amidst the vast cosmic tapestry of uncertainty. Gene-seed F rom the bloodline of Guilliman, the illustrious progenitors of the Silver Skulls, flowed a gene-seed renowned for its steadfast stability. Such was the inheritance bestowed upon the inception of the Prædicators, though murmurs, like hushed shadows, insinuate that the legacy of unyielding wholeness perished with the ancestral kin of the first Lord Commander. Whether the gene-seed now stands as a paragon of purity or a deformed aberration, one cannot deny that its integration merely amplifies the distinctive traits inherent in the typical void-born aspirant: gaunt countenances, pallid flesh and eyes polished with an otherworldly gleam. Soon after the Chapter's establishment, an eerie metamorphosis began to manifest within the Catalepsean Node of many initiates. While it yet functioned to regulate the Marines' circadian rhythms and stave off the perils of sleep deprivation, granting them unyielding wakefulness for days on end, an uncanny mutation took root. Curiously, they chose to resist slumber, for when their eyes closed in surrender to the realm of dreams, they were besieged by sinister visions of unfathomable dread. Prophetic seers scoured these nightmarish reveries, extracting faint glimpses of the future, their own goals extending far beyond, leaving in their wake an unsettling darkness that danced within their gaze. The Apothecaries, burdened with the solemn task of assuaging the torment of these nocturnal terrors, strive to alleviate the suffering. Yet there are those for whom the nightmares prove unbearable, gnawing at their sanity with relentless fervour. These wretched souls, bound in chains inscribed with pentagrammatical wards, are led through labyrinthine corridors, descending into the stygian depths of Cetus to chambers shrouded in eternal gloom. Within these unhallowed confines, their tongues become vessels for incoherent ramblings, forever whispering of a tranquil island of ignorance amidst the unfathomable seas of an infinite abyss. Prognosticators, in their insatiable quest for forbidden knowledge, diligently sift through the cryptic utterances, assembling disjointed fragments of revelation that unveil terrifying vistas of reality, exposing our harrowing existence in its truest form. Primaris Marines In the depths of their being, the Brothers harboured a secret desire, an insidious wish veiled in shadows. It whispered, ever so subtly, for their venture across the Rubicon to fail, for their crossing to be marred by doom and annihilation. The weight of their allegiance tugged at their spirits, rending their souls with a tempestuous turmoil as they grappled with the terrible knowledge that strained every fibre of their being. The Primaris Marines hailed as the Archmagos Dominus Belisarius Cawl's progeny were bestowed with an augmentation beyond measure. Engineered under the watchful gaze of Roboute Guilliman, these warriors, wrought with the essence of the Primarchs, possessed not only the customary nineteen specialized organs but three additional gifts of gene-spliced might. The Sangprimus Portum, that vessel of potent genetic material entrusted to Cawl by Guilliman, birthed a new breed of Adeptus Astartes, unleashed upon the battlefield with fervour during the Ultima Founding. Yet, as the ages unfurled, the revelation of these Primaris secrets lingered in the shadows, unveiled only in the waning days of the 41st Millennium. They stood apart, outcasts in their own right, shunned and ostracized, until the envoys of the Primarch made their presence known to the Prædicators. From the outset, the Primaris were met with a chorus of mistrust, though the origins of such apprehension varied. The initial wave, burdened with repeated claims of Guilliman's return, shattered the preconceptions held by the Chapter's Prognosticators. The second surge was marked by the rejection of the Chapter's creed—a resurgence of hope clashing with the harbingers of impending doom. With time, a delicate acceptance began to form, a reluctant embrace marred by lingering doubts. Could these Primaris, plagued by the same nightmares that plagued their Firstborn brethren, ever truly comprehend the terrors that lurked in the void? Yet the Chapter's Cult hesitated to fully embrace them as equals, for the Primaris Chaplains, Prognosticators, and Apothecaries were deemed incapable of empathizing with the mental tribulations endured by their predecessors with each harrowing cycle of sleep. The enigmatic tapestry of fate would unfurl to reveal whether the Primaris would ascend as true denizens of the abyss or languish in the shadows, forgotten and forsaken. But some harboured a different fear, a haunting trepidation lurking in the recesses of their consciousness—an apprehension that the Primaris personified the fulfilment of a prophecy foretelling the impending cataclysm. The tremors of an impending end reverberated through their thoughts, intensified by the Primarchs' return and the Custodes' resurgence. Perhaps, in the fullness of time, the Primaris would shed their outsider status and be hailed as the living embodiment of a prophecy, an augury scryed in ancient texts aeons ago, casting a pall over the impending twilight. Power Armour Since the aeon when the 33rd Millennium dawned, the Prædicators have amassed a formidable collection of archaic armours, relics of ages long past. These venerable suits, preserved with meticulous care by the hands of skilled artificers—humble servitors devoid of the holy transfiguration into Adeptus Astartes—find sanctuary within the Chapter's hallowed halls. But let it be known that the Prædicators, in their wisdom, do not hoard these vestments of antiquity for mere pomp and ceremony, as lesser brethren are wont to do. No, these lords of the void understand the grim truth that binds them to the inky expanse, forsaken by the cosmic tapestry. They, the lonely wanderers, must wield all tools at their disposal, grasping the tendrils of the unknown with an unyielding grip. Unlike their counterparts, who reserve the honour of donning shining ancient armours to their ceremonial guards and privileged elites, the Prædicators embrace a different path. They defy convention, their forms enrobed in many old armaments, each a testament to bygone eras. A motley assembly of exalted plates adorns their frames, a patchwork of archaic craftsmanship intermingled with diverse marks of power. They traverse the abyssal void, cast adrift like outcasts, their souls yearning for solace in a cosmos indifferent to their existence. And so, they adapt, utilising every resource within their grasp, for survival demands resourcefulness beyond measure. Amidst the endless sea of stars, where the tendrils of fate coil and unfurl, the Prædicators stand resolute. They do not cling to the trappings of tradition, for theirs is a solitary path, a journey through the abyssal depths. Their armour, a reflection of their unwavering spirit, is but a means to an end—an instrument of their relentless quest for understanding. As they navigate the labyrinthine corridors of existence, they emerge clad in a panoply of eras, a symphony of forgotten designs. To the uninitiated eye, it may appear a chaotic amalgamation, an affront to order and uniformity. But within the enigmatic calculus of the void, it is a testament to their adaptability, their defiance against the cosmic indifference that looms above. In their solitude, the Prædicators, these forsaken souls, have come to embrace the mosaic of ages past, stitching together the fragments of forgotten craftsmanship. They have become something more than the sum of their parts, a testament to the resilience of the human spirit in the face of an uncaring universe. Their armour, an amalgamation of faded glory and dormant might, symbolises their unyielding will and refusal to succumb to the swirling maw of the unknown. As they wander the void alone, they know that in this realm of obscurity, where mortal frailty meets cosmic vastness, every resource and tool must be wielded with unwavering resolve. War Zone: Carnial COMING SOON Pictures

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.

Welcome to another one of my Index Astartes. Having worked closely with TechCaptain on his Heralds of Ash I have had a niggling desire to try and create my own death cult chapter that is distintinctly different. In my opinion the only way to do that is to start with nailing down the homeworld, and for that I have tried to portray ancient Greece as a Death cult _________________________________________________________________________________________________________________________ Index Astartes: Urn Keepers Origins ? Urn Keepers Armorial' Homeworld R ogus situated in the realm of Ultramar, was once a beautiful feudal world that has now become one large cemetery. It is not quite clear how this Imperial world came to be an Astartes homeworld. Between having incomplete and inconclusive founding records, and the bureaucratic labyrinth within the Administratum on Terra it is theorized that it is likely no more than a clerical error. An error with startling consequences, as Rogus has had a profound influence on the Urn Keepers to this day. Earliest records of Rogus point to a feudal planet with luscious forests and lakes, rugged mountains, and thousands of islands. The Ancient Rogusians were peaceful and enjoyed systematically studying subjects such as philosophy and history. They loved art, architecture and literature, and they created thousands of temples, statues, paintings and texts honouring the Emperor and the Imperium. The planetary governor would often be found visiting the leaders of the many city-states. Sitting within their symmetrical white stone-walled palaces with their tall, intricately carved columns, discussing and debating the day's topic. One incomplete record stated the Rogusians' most noteworthy custom was their dedication to caring for their dead. Every slain soldier and body carefully receive their three rites of passage. Beginning with the prothesis, the body is placed in public view to be mourned. Followed by the cremation upon an open funeral pyre, the ashes are transferred into an urn for their interment. That all changed when the Administratum charged them with handling the dead of the 35th Orcallian Astra Militarum Regiment from the Salt Desert Campaign at the beginning of the 40th millennium. An unfathomable amount of bodies were brought to the surface in necro freighters to be disposed of. Every resource available had to be directed to the effort. Nearly two thousand years later and the toll of the Administratum's decision, now known as 'The Thanatoring', has fundamentally changed Rogus, with Necro freighters from across the Imperium now delivering the slain to this once beautiful planet. Inside the once pristine white acropolises, the streets are lined with urns upon every surface. Once a symbol of the God-Emperor, the temples have given way to only honouring him in death. The theatres only show morbid performances. The public baths gave way to embalming, and the great artisans now left to only produce the endless demand for clay urns. The ancient forests and woodland have been torn down to fuel the endless pyres. The mountains stripped to become giant altars. The islands have become massive chimney stacks of smoke that can be seen from miles around, filling the sky with soot for it to rain down, turning everything on the planet black. Scavenging Avians float high above to only break cloud cover to get at what they can. The polar ice caps rapidly melt while used for the prothesis, with millions of mourners lighting candles and offering prayers to the deceased. The sub-zero temperatures battle to preserve the massive backlog of bodies to be cremated and the lakes have become liquid soot, with the seabeds becoming mass graves with stone urns piled on top of one another. There is great prestige in being cremated on Rogus. It draws cadavers from light-years around. Senior officers of the Imperial Guard, the Imperial Navy, members of Hive World noble houses, powerful merchant lords, Navigators, planetary nobility, and devout members of the Ecclesiarchy are to be cremated here. Some urns will be displayed, drawing pilgrims from all around in dire desperation to lay their eyes upon the resting spots of the great heroes and saints of the Imperium. The Rogusian underclass, who are mainly responsible for touching bodies, pay particular attention to these funerals as a surviving bone fragment can be enough to get out of this hellscape with them fetching high prices on the black market. What urns that can be exhumed from the planet are eventually shipped off the surface, but when handling the faceless mass of the Imperial Guard, whose bodies could never be identified, will remain sitting silently on Rogus for the rest of eternity. Chapter Cult and Belief System T he Urn Keepers believe that death underpins all of the Imperium's existence and that only through continued sacrifice in the face of such a hostile universe will the Imperium ever prevail. They liken their own sacrifice to the bodily sacrifice of the Emperor Himself. This belief eerily mirrors that of the Imperial Creed, and while they deviate from it, they embrace it more than many Astartes Chapters. Their discrepancies are overlooked by members of the Ecclesiarchy. Despite being situated within the realm of Ultramar and being embraced by the Ecclesiarchy, they attempt to remain relatively isolationist in nature. Just as those cremated give up the last of their earthy possessions, body, and soul, the Keepers seek to shed all Materium desires. Only in the state of nothingness can one ever truly gain the insight and strength to serve the will of the Imperium. This quiet, sombre, and melancholic Chapter worship every death, every shot, and cut in battle as an act for the survival of the Imperium. They hold no preference in whom they must sacrifice or kill in the name of the Imperium, Heretic or Xenos alike; all will be returned to nothing for the greatness of the Imperium. In the wake of any battle involving the Urn Keepers, witnesses will see armies of black tunic-wearing serfs covered in black and white ash-based body paint arrive. They assist the Astartes in preparing the bodies of their allies and their enemies for their rites of passage. Huge pyres will be lit, sermons said, and ashes recovered. Those who shed blood alongside them will be gifted the urns of their deceased so that their ashes may be returned home with them. If an Astartes from a Brother Chapter is among the fallen, the Urn Keepers would consider it a great honour if they were permitted to honour them in their customs. With the Progenoid glands recovered, they will be returned to Rogus for cremation alongside any of the Keepers' fallen. There, their bodies will be displayed for their prothesis, for all of Rogus's population to observe. As is the custom, they will be cremated with their sermon presided over by a high ranking member of the Reclusiam. Only after this will the urn of ashes belonging to their allied Chapter be permitted to find its way home, and the mutants, heretics, and Xenos' ashes from their victory will be displayed upon the slopes of Pax. Fortress Monastery ? Recruitment ? Gene-seed ? Organisation ?

Have been thinking about this list for when I when I can play again once restrictions lift. Captain in Gravis Armour (115) - Warlord (Iron Resolve), Armour Indomitus Master of Sanctity in Terminator Armour (125) - Combi flamer, hero of the chapter (wise orator), gifts of the phalanx (Benediction of fury), Canticle of Hate and Mantra of Strength Assault Intercessor Squad (120) - 4x Assault Intercessor with Astartes Chainsword and Heavy Bolt Pistol, Sergeant with Thunder Hammer and Plasma pistol Assault Intercessor Squad (105) - 4x Assault Intercessors with Astartes Chainsword and Heavy Bolt Pistol, Sergeant with Power Sword and Plasma pistol Intercessor Squad (100) - 4x Intercessors with Bolt Rifle's, Sergeant with Astartes Chainsword and Bolt Rifle Intercessor Squad (100) - 4x Intercessors with Bolt Rifle's, Sergeant with Astartes Chainsword and Bolt Rifle Primaris Chief Apothecary (95) - Hero of the Chapter (Selfless Healer) Terminator Assault Squad (220) - 5x Terminators with Thunder Hammer and Storm Shield, teleport homer Vanguard Veteran Squad (117) - 4x Vangaurd Veterans with Power Sword and bolt pistol, Veteran Sergeant with Relic Blade and Bolt Pistol Stormraven Gunship (340) - Twin Lascannon, Twin Multi Melta Stormtalon Gunship (185) - Twin Lascannons, Twin Assault Cannon Impulsor (125) - 2x Storm Bolters, Shield Dome Impulsor (125) - 2x Storm Bolters, Shield Dome Razorback (125) - Storm Bolter, Twin Lascannon My Chapter uses the Bolter fusillades and Dualists Chapter Tactics. Idea is the Assault Intercessors and Vanguard Veterans move forward and hit the softer targets, while the Captain and Intercessors move to claim objectives. Assault Terminators and Chaplain are in reserve to come in and provide a counter charge to larger threats using the Chaplain's canticle of hate. Undecided whether to use the Apothecary with the Intercessors or go forward with the assault intercessors.

Valrak posted a video earlier this week of some of the new and/or newly showcased successor chapters from our upcoming supplement. Here is a link to the video: https://youtu.be/WsRQYG_PHFI I haven't found the page with these chapters yet in any review videos, as they like to skip over the lore pages a lot. While not having the book, I'll just need to trust that the content is correct. The list of the ones covered in the video are: Bringers of Judgment Cowled Wardens Knights of Abhorrence Penitent Blades Prime Absolvers The Unnamed There is a lot of variation of color, names and markings that are in some of these newly showcased chapters, which I thought was very interesting and warranted discussion. What do you think about these new chapters, the new and sometimes strikingly different color palettes compared to the traditionally showcased Unforgiven chapters? Does it give any ideas for some new projects?

Ok, I haven't posted any new images of models since 2019. Since then I have acquired a new fancy air brush - the Iwata Revolution. I have also decided to strip my 6000 points of models to paint them in a colour I have wanted but didn't know how to make it until Turbo Dork released it. I have ordered Vallejo Black Gloss to under coat my models and will be using the Blue Raspberry as the base colour. I will be ret-conning my existing chapter to be blood angels successors. What is everyones' thoughts, should I keep the Sanguinary Guard and Death company in their original colours but slight variation in colour? Anyways, it's about to be a new year and i guess it's time for a new look for my army. Any recommendations on an old gold paint or should I use silver as my secondary colour? Anyways here's a blog to keep a track of my progress. http://i.imgur.com/Qm6arkPm.jpg http://i.imgur.com/b3ZcWvbm.jpg http://i.imgur.com/cS1j6F6m.jpg

Good Evening Battle-Brethren, I became re-involved and interested in my Warhammer 40,000 hobby over the last few months, and I've rapidly become a silent follower of this great forum. After sporadic involvement in the hobby over the years, I appreciate how active this community is and would like to take some time to share a bit about my recently re-painted Blood Angels successor chapter, the Brothers Luminous. I first collected Imperial Guard back in 2003 on a recommendation from several friends, and quickly became enamored with their red-clad battle brothers with a thirst for battle and a rage against heresy. After moving away from my Warhammer friends (ca. 2005), I boxed up my old models until they experienced a small renaissance in the summer of 2010. Due to conflicts of time with my lab in college/university, I once again boxed my companions until this past August (reading The All Guardsman Party over the summer spent in Spain for work helped me stay connected to 'home' and allowed me to get re-energized with the lore and draw of the hobby), and after some initial work updating and painting my Imperial Guard (Astra Militarum now, I suppose...which I plan to make a thread for in due time) I finally decided on a color scheme and background for my Blood Angels Successor Chapter, dubbed the Brothers Luminous. This will be a WIP and edited thread, which I hope to update every few weeks. Big thanks to Grand Master Belial for the format below, originally found in The Brotherhood of the Angels 2016 thread, and Jolemai for the Pile of Shame thread (which inspired me to inventory my miniatures, and has helped drive progress on painting)!! I look forward to as much comments and suggestions as possible! In the grim dark future of the 41st millenium, humanity in and around the Carex system is represented by two separate yet equally important groups: the Carexaen Astra Militarum that provide millions of bodies for the war effort, and the Brothers Luminous Adeptus Astartes that serve to tactically crush their opponents. These are their stories. >>> Incoming Transmission: Magenta Level Encryption >>> Sender: Sandor Aether, Brothers Luminous Chapter >>> Directive: Fortress of Baal CHAPTER NAME Brothers Luminous SUMMARY ▪ GENE-SEED (PREDECESSOR): Blood Angels (Previously thought to be Raven Guard) ▪ FOUNDING: 13th Founding ▪ CHAPTER MASTER: Zorous ▪ CHAPTER WORLD: Achawasi ▪ FORTRESS MONASTERY: The Spire Resplendent ▪ FLAGSHIP: Luminous Aether ▪ MAIN COLOURS: Red, White, Black ▪ SPECIALITY: Stealth, Speed, Close Quarters Combat, Jump Infantry ▪ BATTLE CRY: Ours is the light that will pierce the heavens! ▪ CURRENT STRENGTH: 1146 Battle Brothers ▪ KNOWN DESCENDANTS: No Known Descendants ▪ ALLEGIANCE: The Emperor of Mankind, Source of Light and Guidance of the Imperium ORIGIN OF THE CHAPTER: As with most records of the 13th Founding (The Dark Founding), those of the Brothers Luminous have been lost, and only fragmented scraps of knowledge remain in official Imperial records. Legend states that the Brothers Luminous were founded ‘To bring the light of The Emperor to the forsaken, forlorn, shadow-infested corners of the galaxy’ and serve to defend or re-conquer many of the neglected worlds of the Imperium, such as remnants from the Great Crusade that have fallen into xenos or heretical hands. Ancient records suggest that originally, the Brothers Luminous were believed to be generated from Raven Guard gene seed stock. This initial Origin assumption was reflected in the initial theaters that the Brothers Luminous fought in, taking from their thought-to-be forbearing chapter the emphasis on stealth and rapid re-deployment, with high populations of scout and jump pack troops. Throughout these initial conflicts, a handful of battle-brothers demonstrated remarkable talent, and were elevated to the ranks of company captains. Rapidly, the Brothers Luminous began to build a reputation as cunning warriors, leveraging their tactical mindset to amass one of the highest success rates of any successor chapter. However, fate would soon intervene to show the true nature of their lineage. At the end of a hard-fought campaign, in the far reaches of the Segmentum Obscurus near the Ghoul Stars, a small moon called Zuphos Eta unveiled a flaw in the gene-seed of the Brothers Luminous, and nearly cost the Imperium the entire system. In the years that followed, the Brothers Luminous spent time searching for a reason why some among their numbers had been reduced to no more than raving blood-crazed lunatics. The Brothers’ chief apothecary at the time went in search of an answer, seeking to fill the knowledge gaps behind the Brothers’ gene-seed origin, and attempt to trace their lineage. Over time, he found more differences than similarities with their assumed patriarchal chapter the Raven Guard. A chance meeting with the Blood Drinkers chapter allowed the Brothers Luminous to consider a restructure of their own apothecarium into a sanguinary priesthood, and alongside the creation of a Death Company and eventual creation of a Sanguinary Guard, the Brothers contacted the Blood Angels chapter to be registered and officially added to their records of lineage. CHAPTER HOME WORLD/FLEET: Achawasi is the largest moon of Carex, a death world located at the border of the Ultima and Obscurus Segmentae. Achawasi is a densely forested moon with intermittent great lakes adorning the surface. Much of the land present is covered in sprawling networks of living trees that will reach out and devour any prey kept along the surface with their strongly corrosive sap. The only settlements manageable planetside were constructed millennia ago high up in the mountains, too far above water levels to be considered habitable for the living trees. Numerous identical palaces are carved into these high peaks, dotting the surface of Achawasi with ornate living quarters populated by the chapters’ serfs. Despite being populated by many palaces, only one is the true Resplendent Spire, hidden in plain sight amongst the palaces on the surface. The lights from these palaces serve both as a source of hope to all friendly Imperial travelers, and a warning signal to xenos and heretical threats. PRESENT ACTIVITIES: At the dawn of the 41st millennium, the Brothers Luminous are embroiled in a series of conflicts on multiple fronts against several foes, primarily on fronts against chaos, with occasional deployments against eldar and tau adversaries. Details Forthcoming The Brothers Luminous will eventually heed the call of their paternal chapter and advance toward Baal on the Luminous Aether, intent on assisting in any way possible to halt Hive Fleet Leviathan in its tracks. Details Forthcoming COMBAT DOCTRINE: The Brothers Luminous borrow strategies from both their supposed and true parent chapters. Chapter tactics usually begin with deployment of forward scouting parties to plan strategic deployment of drop troops and jump infantry, including assault marines, vanguard veterans, and more recently Death Company and Sanguinary Guard. While the original preference for the chapter was stealth and night-fighting, the discovery of the flaw has forced a shift to a more frontal assault-oriented doctrine in recent encounters. Of note, ever since the discovery of the flaw in their gene-seed, the Brothers have seen a drastic increase in population of the apothecarium/sanguinary priesthood, with High Priest Zorous currently searching for a way to temper the frequency of brothers afflicted by the flaw, though the exact nature of his work is shrouded in secrecy to all but a select group of brothers. ROLL OF HONOR: 126.M36 – Cleansing of Opfan-Rei Opfan-Rei was a fringe early warning facility on the edge of Imperial space, meant to keep watch for any chaos incursions. After an uprising of a cult of Tzeentch summons legions of horrors, Opfan-Rei is cleansed by a coalition force of the Brothers Luminous 4th and 10th Company, as well as White Consuls space marine chapter and the Cadian 11th. Notably, the tactics employed by the Brothers Luminous result in a rapid resolution of conflict with minimal casualties. 372.M36 – Liberation of Tradox Brothers Luminous scouts determine the location of the leader of Dark Eldar forces holding key sectors of the hive world of Tradox. After having proven the effectiveness of their tactics in many battles over the last millennia, the chapter builds upon this legacy by using scout information to eliminate Dark Eldar command by precision deployment of vanguard jump troops and marines from the 2nd company. In a single night, the Dark Eldar hierarchy was disrupted, sowing confusion and disrupting coherence across large areas of occupation to such significant degree that the Imperium drives the xenos to withdraw forces within two weeks. 798.M37 – Campaign for the Liberation of Zuphos Sector Engaged in initial assaults on Zuphos Alpha and Gamma to devastating effect. On Zuphos Alpha, after an initial head-on assault by combined forces of the 13th, 25th, and 34th Carexan regiments, and Death Spectre Space Marines. This initial assault identified key weaknesses in Genestealer Cult emplacements into which the Brothers Luminous dropped assault marines and pods, breaking their line and reclaiming 85% of the planet’s surface within 72 hours. On Zuphos Gamma, however, the flaw in their gene-seed leads to – OFFICIAL RECORDS REDACTED. 008.M38 – The Five-Moons War A detachment of Brothers Luminous primarily from the 5th Company forms up with the 28th and 46th Carexan regiments and led by Captain Zurviel engages in a war of attrition in the Eldar-held Korab system. Collectively known as Strike Force Calenus, Imperial forces make great advances and conquer three fertile moons of Korab thanks to the strategy of Captain Zurviel. However, the majority of Calenus falls into a trap set by the Eldar and become trapped in the webway. After the loss of the majority of their forces, and with reinforcements too far to assist, a final Eldar push drives Imperial forces from the system. 726.M40 – The Reclamation of Korab Squads from the third company led by Captain Pallas form into Strike Force Galikos, and are sent back to the Korab system after the Eldar loss of the system to Death Guard invaders, only to encounter heavy resistance on Korab IV. A cultist blockade makes travel to the other side of the system incredibly difficult. Trapped in a war of attrition with the defense-talented traitor legion, the stalemate lasted several decades until unexpectedly, an Imperial signal transmitted from the far-side of the planet registers with proper clearance. Strike Force Calenus, accompanied by a platoon of Carexan Grenadiers, emerges from the webway, having minimally aged despite having been lost in the webway for over two millennia. Being forced to fight on two fronts, the Death Guard and Nurgle cultists were forced to retreat from the system. It is later discovered that a carefully laid plan by the Eldar Farseer Nightweaver essentially ‘borrowed’ Imperial troops to serve his own needs, using Strike Force Calenus to route the chaos threat in that portion of the galaxy. The reason for this tactical decision remains unclear to many Imperial tacticians. CHAPTER ORGANIZATION: While predominantly Codex adherent, the Brothers Luminous diverge in a few key ways. In addition to the Blood Angels' Death Company, and Sanguinary Guard, the ranks of apothecarium (and later the Sanguinary Priesthood) are proportionally much higher than most other chapters, with rumors that in protracted siege warfare, a sanguinary priest may be assigned to each deployed squad to ensure their gene-seed may be recovered. An additional divergence from Codex organization is the structure of the Fifth Company, The Eternals. Thought to be lost during the Five-Moons War, the Fifth company was rebuilt by pulling from other reserve companies in the time before The Reclamation of Korab. After The Reclamation, the Fifth company that emerged from the warp remained mostly intact, and the new fifth company was disbursed back to reserves. However, during its time in the warp, The Eternals redistributed to possess only four tactical squads, with two devastator squads and four assault squads. This decision by Captain Zurviel provides an increase in mobility, and to this day the chapter maintains this one unique company structure. FLEET ASSETS: Description of the chapter’s fleet strength and vessel names – In Progress BELIEFS: The Brothers Luminous' beliefs changed dramatically after discovery of their true lineage. High Priest Zorous is the spiritual Chapter Master, and commands a small company of veterans that answer only to him. Bearing the Chalice of Light, Zorous is the current bearer of the chapter's blood of Sanguinius, gifted from the brothers of Baal. Sanguinary Priests bear an elevated status overall, and Brothers believe that they carry the light and truth of the chapter. In recent years, they are often chosen to advise or even lead strike forces. RECRUITMENT: Neophytes are primarily drawn from the mid-far side of Carex Primarus. Due to its unique orbit patterns, the mid-far side of Carex Primarus is shrouded in darkness, save for some bioluminescent hemiparasitic plant growths that occur in the tree canopy. In this environment, wandering tribes learn tactics to ambush prey and develop enhanced physiological traits, providing ideal specimens for elevation to the ranks of Astartes. LOCAL RITUALS: On Achawasi, any brothers that have joined the ranks of the Death Company and survived are placed in stasis, scattered among the spires that dot the surface. Of the seldom visitors that are accepted into these palaces, some claim that the blood of these warriors is infused with the blood of those in the chapter that have managed to resist the flaw strongest, and rumor circulates that members of Zorous' staff conduct studies on these warriors, keeping hundreds of brothers in reserve and hoping to eventually cure them. CHAPTER BANNERS OR BATTLE STANDARDS: Coming Soon! HONORS, RELICS, DECORATIONS AND AWARDS: Coming Soon! BATTLE CRY: "Ours is the light that will pierce the heavens!" GENE-SEED: Originally thought to be Raven Guard; truly Blood Angel. Currently experiencing the flaw that all Blood Angels possess. CHAMPIONS OF THE CHAPTER: Play-Relevant Characters Chapter Master – Hyperius, Bringer of Light [Counts-as Dante] Sanguinary High Priest – Zorous, Keeper of Truths [Counts-as Corbulo] High Chaplain – Azaphael, The Penumbrant Voice [Counts-as Astorath] Chaplain – Helo, The Unfettered [Counts-as Lemartes] Chief Librarian – Nathaniel Xeton, Eminence to the Warp [Counts-as Mephiston] Captain Prometivus of the First Company, The Dauntless [Counts-as Karlaen] Captain Pallas of the Third Company, The Shining [Counts-as Tycho, pre-Death Company] Captain Zurviel of the Fifth Company, The Eternals [May be used as a counts-as Shrike, if using Raven Guard tactics] Captain Artemis Acteon of the Tenth Company, The Clandestine [May be used as counts-as Korvydae, if using Raven Guard Tactics] Lore-Relevant Characters Commander of Sanguinary Guard – Rhodael, Beacon of Salvation Watch Commander – Hadraniel, Protector of The Spire Logisticam Commander – Maquous, The Architect Armorium Commander – Luxos, Supreme Tech-Marine Auxilia Commander – Osiron, Warden of Achawasi Captain Logos of the Second Company, The Audacious Captain Midas of the Fourth Company, The Illustrious Captain Seraphael of the Sixth Company, The Absolved Captain Uriel of the Seventh Company, The Purified Captain Zeno of the Eighth Company, The Stormcaste Captain Chemael of the Ninth Company, The Ironwrought In the name of The Emperor of Mankind, Holy Anathema to Chaos. >>> By His Will >>> Message Received >>> Signal Terminated EDIT May 23, 2018: Here is my Pile of Shame, to be updated relatively frequently – 1 Sanguinary Priest 5 Vanguard Veterans (Want to Magnetize, Lightning Claws, Storm Shields, Thunder Hammers) 2 Command Squad Veterans 1 Brother Corbulo 2 Sanguinary Priests 1 Captain (TH, SS, JP) 1 Captain (PS, JP) 1 Librarian (Magnetized Pistol Hand, Power Axe) 1 Company Ancient 1 Company Champion (Power Sword, Combat Shield, Bolt Pistol) 1 Tactical Marines (Heavy Weapon [Heavy Bolter: 1/Heavy Flamer: 0/Multi-Melta: 1/Missile Launcher: 2/Plasma Cannon: 1/Lascannon: 1]) 15 Death Company 15 Scouts 1 Dreadnought (2nd Edition Assault Cannon version)

Hello everyone! So, as a brand new venture, I'm getting involved in a little "Tale of Gamers" style thing with a couple of people locally; we're building up new armies from very modest beginnings (or in my case, from scratch). The intent is to fully build and paint each month's purchases ready for a battle at the end of the month. So, after considering various options I've decided to go for a force from Codex BA! I'm going for a successor chapter of my own devising, with the familiar successor trait of being just as dangerous to allies as to foes. I want these guys to be gore-soaked madmen, whose usefulness to the Imperium is largely thanks to the efforts of the Chapter's command structure to aim them in directions that reduce the possibility for collateral damage as far as possible. I realise this isn't the most terribly original backstory for a BA successor, but there we go. I wanted to really emphasise that battle-worn, blood-soaked look so came up with a scheme I hope will showcase that: For my first purchases I've managed to obtain a Gauntlet Tactical Squad box, a Death Company box and a Deathwatch Chaplain. I know there's quite a few bits on offer here and I have some flexibility from my bits-box for additional things. I don't consider myself to be "gamey" and for me it's better that the models look awesome and a game is fun, rather than winning. That said, I also don't want to be punched about every game. I know that both opposing forces are going to be Astartes based: a 13th Company Space Wolves force, and a Nurgle Chaos Marine force. With that in mind, my initial thoughts for the first 500 points are: Chaplain with Jump Pack - 105 Tactical Squad (10 strong) with Combi-Plasma*, Plasma Gun* and Heavy Flamer - 175 Rhino - 45 Death Company (5 strong) with Jump Packs and 4 Power Weapons - 175 At this point the increased toughness of the Nurgle Marines is my main concern, which is why I've opted for Plasma in the Tactical Squad. They should also be able to threaten the Rhino I suspect will appear without having to have any dedicated anti-tank at this level. Heavy Flamer is still strong enough to be wounding them on 4's so I figured that was a worthwhile purchase. As for the Death Co, I figure that they're putting out 20 attacks at S5 on the charge with re-rolls from the Chaplain, so it's better to go for swords for the AP3 than for any additional strength. I'd be very grateful for thoughts and/or feedback! NB - I wasn't actually sure where to put this one and considered Liber Astartes, Army Lists and Work In Progress, but settled on BA General as it's probably going to be a combination of all three topics. I'm sure mods will move if that's not appropriate (in which case, apologies) EDIT - Link to the formative Sanguine Eagles Index Astartes over in the Liber

Hey all. So with the release of the new Blood Angels Codex i was looking for something to base a new army on (I already have Lamenters, but they are Primaris only). I was tempted by vanilla Blood Angels, but after reading Devastation of Baal the Knights of Blood really started looking cool. Despite being wiped out, they still go out like any good Son of Sanguinius (Punching Khorne Daemons to death). They are a lot like the Flesh Tearers except they have embraced the Red Thirst and even have some control over the Black Rage which they do by going all in on their vampric tendencies. They prefer to attack the enemy up close with chainswords, blades instead of at long range. But it is their hidden secret that makes them appeal the most to me. Spoilers for Devastation of Baal: I've finished a 5 man tactical squad as a test for the scheme: The Sergeant: I've got a big Death Company squad next to paint as well as my conversion for the Knights of Blood Chapter Master Sentor Jool (Without his helmet).

Index Astartes: Sussurro Abyssi "What is dead cannot die" MAJOR REWRITE IN PROGRESS Version 2.0 (WIP) Origins http://78.media.tumblr.com/a2b596e360408123bce3b2c8bc7400fb/tumblr_inline_oxne4ufOmo1tb1qq6_540.png Brother Dyus The history of the Sussurro Abyssi can be traced back to the terrifying times somewhere around the Year of the Ghosts. When the High Lords of Terra ordered a nascent Chapter from Gene-legacy of the Silver Skulls, the line of Guilliman, to be founded; Bhenan Proteus Abyssal Whisperer was appointed, as first Lord Commander. Known for his; peculiar superstitions, near ritualistic talking into the void about his Prognosticators divinations, and from which the Chapters High Gothic name derives. Being founded as all Chapters do, from the most stable of gene-stock, it is clear they werent the only one, how many chapters were founded alongside is unclear, with a great many records lost within the labyrinth of the Administrum. All that is known is that at least half a dozen were founded; Howling Griffons, to name one, a majority of which follow the strict organisational and tactical guidelines of the Codex Astartes, like most of the approximate thousand chapters in existence, as do the Sussurro Abyssi to an extent. He started them upon a path that for over seven thousand years has earned them a cold reputation among the Imperium since their inception, with their grim and fatalistic view on Mankind, from the strange and terrible knowledge they burden. They fight to deny the inevitable, bemoaning the high price they have to pay for such meagre gains - but they do it because that is what they were created to do. It started within a few years of their founding, brothers began experiencing vivid hallucinogenic dreams as their Catalepsean Node slowly mutated. These dreams were glimpses into a horrifying future, and eerily mirrored the more worrying divinations the chapters Prognosticators were beginning to scry. As the dreams progressed in severity they reached out; to the Adeptus Mechanicus and their Genator-Magos, Abdul Hazred, to the Ultramarines that shared the same primogenitor as their Silver Skull forebearers. Only to be turned away for being too frightening to be believed. How could they not know the truth somewhere in their minds, how could they not; look out into the stars, or into the void and not realise how tiny we all are, how pointless Mankind is in this universe. The Imperium is the centre of nothing. The confession of their genetic mutation only brought the Imperiums scrutiny down onto the Whisperers, and with it Inquisitorial investigation and spurning suspicion. So they learned to stay quiet, until one day they perceive someone is truly ready to listen. Sentenced to purgatory along the Imperiums isolated southern border that would repair the power and reach of the Adeptus Astartes, until such time they could once again call themselves Scions of Guilliman. Haunted by unimaginable visions and nightmares has profoundly altered their tale to this day, and Unlike their fellow descendants of Guilliman before his un-prophesised return, the Sussurro Abyssi have never once aspired to take the pilgrimage to the Shrine of the Primarch. For their visions have made them pariahs and shunned. Recruitment Settling into their duty of protecting the periphery of the Segmentum Tempestus from Xenos incursions, an expeditionary fleet led by the Sussurro Abyssi tasked with mapping some essential yet unknown areas of the Veiled Region. Without it the limited levels of navigation conducted on this region made it both dangerous and hazardous. It is unstable at best, perennial nebulas interfering with communication, psionic radiation leaving vessels to drift for days unable to enter to the tumultuous Immaterium. Amongst the greatest dangers is in its isolation from Astropathic communication, for psychic communication is reflected and echoed with only silence being returned. It was only for their skilled Navigators the exploration was allowed, and for why it was successful. Without them they would be unable to traverse the seemingly seen breaking point of reality, thickening nebulae, and stellar clouds. It was in this seemingly unknown and forgotten area of space, they came upon what they were told did not exist. Under law they were prohibited, Human Settlements. What was more striking was the seemingly consistent amount of vessels that came and went bringing supplies and much needed trade; even despite of the treatment they received. http://78.media.tumblr.com/a340fd820185723f411de7108fc26179/tumblr_inline_oxniomFWx81tb1qq6_500.png Veiled Region All manner of vessels would traverse through this region of space; merchant, miner, scavenger, prison, darkholds, and even Rogue Traders. Without them these human settlements would be isolated from one another and left unprotected. Interstellar trade could not exist, and the weapons needed to stop a world falling into darkness would not be obtained. There travel throughout the Imperium is arduous and dangerous, their ancient vessels powerful engines flinging them into the Immaterium where they can cover thousands of light years within a relatively short time, dropping back into the Materium far beyond their starting point. The Warp seeks to drag helpless vessels to their doom, with its constant turbulence, and warp storms. Those aboard those vessels are not merely star travellers but the products of many generations passed in the darkness between worlds, Void Born. They are relatively few among the teeming multitudes of humanity, but singular, and form a disparate and odd collection of misfits, strangers, and other ill-omened folk, birthed in the bellies of vessels that are spending standard centuries charting its course through the stars. On the worlds they came to they were shunned for their ethereal quality and considered to be unlucky, ill-fated, bringers of bad fortune, secretive, and untrustworthy. Believed in some way to have been touched by the Warp where gravitational variance, radiation exposure, genetic distortion, and Warp anomalies slowly take their toll. A shore they carried a strange air about them, a perceptible something that makes others uneasy. It is those of the Blackholds treated worst for with them comes a darker reputation. They are couched in stories of dire curses, bleak fortunes, baleful massacres, cannibalism, hauntings and worse. The plight of the Void born was one of reflection; they too were homeless and ostracised without just cause. Empathy overcame Proteus soul. They too were somehow associated with the many and unfathomable dangers of the outer darkness, and being inured with the Warp, convinced him that they could serve as the source of future Sussurro Abyssi. Without a Homeworld and having settled into patrolling the periphery of the vastly unknown Veiled Region, with its dense nebulae and newborn stars that suffer from waves of radiation alongside discarded stellar matter whilst being cloaked in stellar dust, along the galactic south of the Segmentum Tempestus, from which come the raiders and despoilers of the foul Xenos. The Abyssi became responsible for the surrounding areas of space, chief among them the Ainu System, the Nahmu Stars and the Hypnis Expanse. Apothecaries and Chaplains of the Abyssi recruit aspirants for the Chapter from the vast, city-sized spacecraft that too ply the depths of the void in order to ensure that the Chapter recruits the strongest mentally and most genetically suitable candidates. Most terrifying of aspirants are from the Darkholds. The Darkholders are a breed apart to those with the wisdom to see it, a higher proportion of Chaplains are recruited from these terrifying vessels. Recruitment is slow and arduous, with no centralised recruitment and no knowing of when the next suitable aspirant will be found within the innumerable of voidfaring vessels. Chaplains must work within the labyrinthine of political webs woven amongst the thousands of ship's crew, who might all be embroiled in complex webs of feuds, alliances, and unpleasant little wars to not disrupt the carefully balanced system. Removing one wrong aspirant can potentially hampers the void born population's ability to maintain itself and properly crew the ships themselves and deprive the Chapter of a source of future recruits. The Chapter's space bound fortress monastery, flagship, and foremost warship appears as a pre-imperial battle station, is known as Cetus, a gigantic starship of origins unknown. In form and scale, it is nearer a planetoid than a conventional vessel. Its foredeck can dock a dozen Imperial Navy Cruisers around its circumference. The vessel is a hive city in space, with its great spires reaching towards the stars, and its striking resemblance to the now lost Word Bearer trident shaped Furious Abyss-class Super Battleships of the Great Crusade. It rivals that of the Phalanx, wielding the firepower of a formidable ?eet, with its studded surface of arched gun batteries, the squat shape of its plasma lance, and Psionic charges alongside other defences. Brought here to be inducted into the Abyssi the Void Born aspirants will step out to breath in its unique ecosystem and see; large portions of the vessel used to emulate different combat environments for training purposes, swathes of space given way to meditation, tapestries of the terrifying nightmares they are to expect but, most of all the endless barren halls. It is here neophytes will undergo the long process of psycho indoctrination, and gruelling biological and genetic testing before being implanted with the gene-seed that will sustain them through a lifetime of nightmares, and turn their meagre bodies into killing machines and into an Abyssal Whisperer begins. A once humble and frail recruit becomes the epitome of humanity, the perfect warrior and servant of the Imperium. Battlefield Doctrine http://68.media.tumblr.com/f3c3b20017bc3f043232adc7139bcdd0/tumblr_inline_owgu5np7dT1tb1qq6_500.png Brother XXXX Vexillum of XXX Following the same reading and understanding of Roboute Guilliman's Codex Astartes as their Predecessors, the Silver Skulls that stay close to the main tenants, has protected the Abyssal Whisperers from further suspicion and scrutiny from the Inquisition. The inevitable enveloping darkness never leaves their thoughts but, War is their purpose, it is what the Whisperers were created for, and it is their last source of pride and satisfaction. The tactical orthodoxy is dictated to a degree as Fleet Based Adeptus Astartes Space Marines. Their instrumentality ensures the Chapter is not used as a blunt instrument but instead a lethal strike unlike the faceless masses of the Astra Militarum. The millennia of repeated combat indoctrination has shaped them into the force they are today; efficiency in war is their only antidote for bemoaning the cost of taking something that achieves nothing, and being unable to stop the inevitable darkness. Establishing themselves as a predominantly defensive force, they orchestrate fire bases that with their skilled gunfire and overlapping fields of fire, supress oncoming attackers. They wait for the opportune moment to disrupt their attackers further with well executed raids from their Assault forces. That cause considerable damage and sews confusion among the ranks. They bemoan the cost of war so, so must those that try to defy them, it is said the only death they fear is the fear of death through madness; it is why they give no quarter so readily. As with their predecessors it is not unknown to hear of the Whisperers unwilling to go to anothers aid, no one is willing to come to theirs, and sometimes the divinations show the cost to be too severe. It is perhaps this single fact why they have survived for so long. When they begrudgingly have to take ground, they seek to overwhelm their foes so they may maintain momentum, preferring to engage directly after a carefully orchestrated orbital bombardment from their vast fleet assets; to then drop-pod infantry and equipment alongside thunderhawk-deployed vehicles. Chapter Scouts will most often be required to gather vital intelligence under any circumstance which is used to confirm or expand on the information gained from the Prognosticators divinations. They are used further to disrupt enemy supply lines with sabotage and demolition missions, as well as eliminate key assassination targets. Their actions are often mistaken for bravery and courage. They stand before the enemies of the Imperium unflinchingly for they consider themselves worthless. It is only from the Chaplains that walk among them in the heat of battle, reminding them of their purpose, their sole responsibility that they continue to fight. For many they want to die, want to despair, and want to return to nothing. Organisation An outside observer would find it difficult to spot any differences between the Sussurro Abyssi and a chapter rigidly adhering to the tenants of the Codex, such as the Ultramarines. Sussurro Abyssi have been considered a near Codex Astartes-adherent chapter for much of their history, although the nature of a fleet-based chapter does require some flexibility in this regard, with isolated fleet elements being forced to adapt their tactics to the resources available to them. Additionally, the Denizens of the Deep fight predominantly without direct Imperial support due to their ill-omened reputation, instilling in them a sense of self-reliance uncommon in many Codex-style chapters who are more comfortably meshed in the greater Imperial war machine. It is in the organisation of the higher levels that deviations from the Codex Astartes can be seen. All Chapters include a number of officers and specialists who stand aside from the company organisation. In the Sussurro Abyssi the Chapter Master is referred to as Lord Commander, as was the way of their predecessors, the Silver Skulls. The Librarians, known as Prognosticators, are partial spiritual advisor alongside their Chaplains; these warriors are the seers of the Chapter, scrying for divination of the future. They grant the squads and companies they are attached to an edge for the coming battles. The Chapter relies on a large support staff, and highly ranked members include the [TITLE], the Captains; [TITLE], [TITLE], and the [TITLE]. Although each Captain is a Space Marine, there are actually relatively few Brethren in the Chapters support staff, and most non-combatant roles are performed by the Chapters Human serfs. The Chapter includes a large number of support staff, many are non-combatants of advanced age tasked with the day-to-day administration of the Chapter. The largest group of Sussurro Abyssi Space Marines in the support staff are the Chapters armourers and Techmarines, who are aided in their tasks by hundreds of mono-task Servitors. The chapter is comprised of Ten Companies each led by a Sussurro Abyssi Captain, who has progressed through the ranks. He is attended by a Command Squad, consisting of the Companys Standard Bearer, Apothecary, and Company Champion, as well as other brethren assigned to aid the Captain in his duties. Each company includes both a Prognosticator, and a Chaplain, who preside over the brothers spiritual well-being and reminds them of their duty. Each of the ten companies comprising of the Sussurro Abyssi, follow the structure within the Codex. The first company is made of the Veterans among their ranks. Their wisdom is invaluable to the chapter, and so they are attached to the Battle Companies to share their knowledge, essentially armed in a similar manner to a Tactical squad. Only the most experienced of those will be permitted to wear the few suits of Terminator armour available to the Chapter. These suits can be seen watching over you as you enter the forge on Cetus. Denizen Techmarines have gone to extensive lengths to return fallen suits of Terminator armour so that it may once more see battle. The 2nd, 3rd, 4th, and 5th Companies are organised along Codex lines. Battle Companies, each consisting of six battleline squads, two close support squads, and two fire support squads. These four company and their fleets form the main battle lines and generally bear the brunt of the fighting. Each have a degree of autonomy and with such a variety of squads, the Companies are highly flexible and tactically adaptable. Companies 6 and 7 are battleline companies, each consisting of ten battleline squads. These act as reserves which may be used to bolster the front line, launch diversionary attacks or stem enemy flanking manoeuvres. With such low recruitment rates these are rarely ever at full strength. The 7th company is barely seen at all, some say it is now only there in name only. The 8th Company consists of ten close support squads. This highly mobile company is often equipped with jump packs, and is fielded in the assault role wherever a strong hand-to-hand fight force is needed to storm an enemy strongpoint. The 9th Company consists of ten Fire Support Squads. It is the most powerfully equipped in the Chapter and is used to bolster defence and provide long-range support. The 10th Company consists of a number of Scout squads; youths who have been recruited and partially transformed into Space Marines. There is no formal size for the company as the rate of recruitment is not fixed. They are the only company to not maintain its own fleet, and instead operate directly off of Cetus. Never fighting as one coherent force; instead they are assigned to the other fleet where they can gain experience alongside their elders. All of the companies, with the exception of the Scout Company maintain transports and Drop pods for each of their squads and officers. The armoury hold onto more centrally, including Land Raiders, each being allocated to individual squads dictated by the needs of their mission or requested by a Captain on the spot. Many of the Battle companies and Reserve companies include a number of Dreadnoughts to remain a part of the company in which the warrior served before being interred within the metal sarcophagus in which he fights, and his presence bolsters in the companys fighting strength considerably. Chapter Cult and Belief System Haunted by their dreams, for fear is real, lying in their thoughts of the future. Seen as secretive, ill-omened, and somehow touched by the Warp; for the Abyssi are and know of the unfathomable dangers of the outer darkness. Inured to the reality-altering process of constant Warp travel, they carry a strange air about them, a perceptible something that makes even the bravest of Astartes Chapters uneasy around them. The Abyssi know first-hand the horrors of space and the sheer multitude of the Emperor's enemies. This knowledge forces these voidfarers, plying the dark void between the stars holding a deeper darkness within, to insular their brotherhood, a life in renunciation from what is lurking in the void beyond the hull. Minds of the Prognosticators deep within the Librarium look far out into the cold vastness of space further than any brothers dreams. Their sight piercing the encouraging black veil for only a second to see shrieking and immemorial lunacy, with eldritch contradictions of all matter, force, and cosmic order. A mountain walked or stumbled, for their minds to then be scorched. It has uncovered the abyss beneath their illusory sense of connection with Mankind. What all Brothers see is a senseless, mechanical, and uncaring universe. Mankind dissolves in the meaningless when impermanence is the only real thing. They have tried for so long to look away and to wake from these terrible dreams but with no understanding their minds are pulled and stretched further. The strain is almost too much for some. Staring deep into the void for so long it now only stares back, as a contradicting reflection of what they have become, Reclusive, Withdrawn, Taciturn; Denizens of the deep. No ordinary Denizen will be remembered for all legacies will be burned but, the stars will live on. To recount such tales only delays the inevitable entropic devouring of such. For that the most solemn of causes is that of the Apothecarion; to prepare for a future that does not exist. Chapter Badge The millennia of screeching divinations and torturous dreams have left the Inquiliana Abyssi with only a cold senseless taste of hopelessness. Their actions cannot be compared to the fate that awaits us all, it will all be dust. Humanities time has come, no longer belonging in the only place they have ever known. Nothing can be saved from the inevitable terror that we should all fear, even those you call Gods of ruinous powers. There are no gods! That tenant disturbs the Ecclesiarchy for not only do they deny the existence of their God but, all that it opposes; all that is supposedly defends against. It puts them odds with the Adeptus Mechanicus, and the Techmarines within their ranks who have sworn ancient pacts with the Omnissiah. To find a follower of the Imperial Cult not openly hostile to what they consider such blasphemy will be a darkest day indeed. To perpetuate such an idea of a deity that can save us from the unsavable, only serves to deny that we are alone, and hopeless in the grandest of schemes. Realisation of the inevitable fate that belongs to us all is creeping into our galaxy, like the tendriled Void Stalker of the Warp with their prey. We could never fathom, fully understand, or explain fate but it is nearly upon us, and it will become known as a blessed release for our fate is no longer in anyones hands. They understanding that there is only Xenos and Mankind in this tumultuous galaxy, for Gods are only considered omniscient from not being understood and obeying a set of laws. Though all Xenos are dangerous to mankind, they are neither good nor evil, the greatest of which are merely incomprehensible, cosmic forces, that notions of morality have no significance too. They exist in cosmic realms beyond our understanding. While the Deathwatch and Ordo Xenos mode operati is considered narrow and flawed, for the Abyssi to be assigned to a Watch Station or Fortress is one of the last remaining noble causes in the galaxy. Their own splendour is that of which was unwillingly bestowed upon. In the darkest millennium it needlessly stands out with towering majesty to give hope to those that have none. For we all go into the ground a few feet in order blindly and dumbly to rot and disappear forever. Prognosticators Prognosticators, are hybrid officers fulfilling the role of Librarian, alongside tasks of the Chaplaincy, they administer to the psionic and mental well-being of the Chapter's warriors. These dour warriors are the seers of the Chapter, reading their brothers dreams or scrying for divination of the future, granting the squads and companies they are attached to an edge for the coming battle. The Chapter takes the readings seriously, as such that on some occasions, the Prognosticators have counselled against the Chapter becoming embroiled in a particular war, however this can prove problematic as to heap greater suspicion on an already mistrusted chapter. At times this has led to taking take part in conflicts they know will end in defeat. Upon a Prognosticators armour, pendants and badges of office can be found Elder marks and runes engraved into the surface. These are not purely decorative, as they serve to channel and concentrate the Prognosticators psychic powers. Given their role as wards of the psionic and spiritual health of the Sussuro Abyssi, it is a rare thing indeed for a Prognosticator to take the Apocryphon Oath, and serve a Vigil of the Long Watch with the Deathwatch, the Chamber Militant of the Ordo Xenos. In accepting a Prognosticator into his Watch Fortress, a Watch Commander gains the services of an individual of unique skill and ability. His knowledge of both the Librarians arts and the duties of the Chaplain are of course valuable. Yet the greatest of the Prognosticators are able to extend their ministrations to all of the Battle-Brothers they serve alongside, inspiring each and every one to epic deeds of courage, and diverting the flow of history so that these warriors can return to their chapters as heroes. It is said that by the actions of these few Prognosticators that the Denizens of the Deep have gained any trustworthy Astartes Chapter allies at all. Apothecaries The most solemn of individuals tasked with the most solemn of tasks. It is their role to mind the physical wellbeing of their battle-brothers. Not all injuries however are visible to be seen. An Apothecary of another chapter would easily be oblivious to the emotional damage that eats away at them. An Apothecary of the Sussuro Abyssi however knows too well the torment that his brothers endure, for they too are emotionally scarred from their nightmares. Techmarines Those amongst the Abyssi with an affinity for technology are dispatched to Mars, honouring ancient pacts formed with the Adeptus Mechanicus millennia ago upon their founding, where they are initiated into the Martian tech-cults to become Techmarines. This process divides the brothers duality complex into a triality nightmare but, it is acknowledged as a necessary process. Without Techmarines the Abyssi would be left unable to tend to the machine spirits, to observe the rites that ensure continued operation of their wargear, repair damage taken on the field of battle, or to attend to the needs of the Fleet. Upon their training on Mars they return even more mysterious and capricious, aloof and distant. Their inscrutable ways are not easily understood by most of the battle-brethren. For many they do not understand themselves, lost in the belief that if their Machines could not be eternal then it cannot be real. Abyssi techmarines struggle to unravel their three competing ideologies; Liber Mechanicus and the Omnissiah, Chapters duty, and its creed, their entire lives. Eternity becomes their supreme desire, nothing is real that is not eternal. The prognosticators that discern their dreams tell of only vague impressions of a sleep addled mind but, they all tell the same story. It is no ordinary nightmare. There is a prison deep below the surface, and something that stands a mile high but moves like flesh and blood. A rustle of wings, and a set of claws; how small they stand beside them claws. They feel him beneath the sand, they see his dreams, and so another fear to be believed. There visions sometimes reveal relics and STC files to be found, for it is all incidental and they are not bad. If it is not eternal it cannot be real. Dreadnoughts The mightiest fallen Denizens, those within whom deny the dying of the light, with a life that still burns bright, are preserved from their final rest. The restless memories of the ancient heroes who pilot them can extend back to the early years of their Chapter and its earliest history. They are revered by other Space Marines, not just as potent warriors, but also as enduring millennia of hauntings from all that they have seen, and dreamt. To honour these courageous warriors, the fallen heroes are allowed to sleep away the centuries within the ancient crypts alongside their deceased brothers in arms, waiting, dreaming until the stars are right and war calls them once more into service of the Imperium. Gene-seed Descendant of the line of Guilliman, through the legacy of the Silver Skulls, their Gene-seed maintained its renown for its stability upon the founding of the Sussurro Abyssi; only exacerbating the distinguishing features of the void born recruits drawn features and pale pallid skin. Not before long the Catalepsean Node began to exhibit signs of a peculiar mutation, operationally it still controlled the rhythms and responses to any sleep deprivation, allowing them to stay awake at full effectiveness for days at a time. They do, for when they sleep they are consumed with potent, disturbing, and dark dreams, overwhelming them with dread. Prognosticators scry these dreams to glean small hints of the future, whose own dreams travel out so much further, giving them all cold black dancing in their eyes. The Apothecaries do what they can to ease the burden of such nightmares but, for those who find them all too much are slowly driven insane are led away in pentagrammically warded chains to a chamber deep in the bowls of Cetus, where they will mutter nonsensically for their eternity about what placid island of ignorance we live in among black seas of infinity. Prognosticators sit piecing together dissociated pieces of knowledge opening up terrifying vistas of reality, and of our frightful position therein. Primaris Marines Nearly every Space Marine created since the First Founding possesses nineteen specialised organs derived from this gene-seed.The Primaris Marines, however originally engineered by the Archmagos Dominus Belisarius Cawl on the orders of Roboute Guilliman are implanted with a further three additional organs. It was the Sangprimus Portum, a device containing potent genetic material harvested from the Primarchs, that allowed for this breakthrough. Entrusted to Cawl by Guilliman shortly after the Second Founding, this device resulted in a new breed of Adeptus Astartes that were deployed en masse in the Ultima Founding. Due to Cawls interpretation of his orders and the millennia-spanning labour of his task during which Guilliman was injured and suspended in stasis the secrets of these new Primaris organs were not released until late in the 41st Millennium. Despite being ostracized and cast out as pariahs, ultimately, as with most chapters, the Sussuro Abyssi received envoys of the Primarch. Initially the Primaris were universally met with mistrust, although in each case the reasons were different. The first wave was suspect, claiming Robute Guilliman had returned, an event that seemingly was not envisaged by the Chapters prognosticators. The second wave were shunned because of the Chapter Cult itself Did they understand that the ending in nigh. In general, those Primaris who have experienced the nightmares in their sleep addled brains have grown to be accepted and well-received, though lingering doubts remain if any of them could fall into madness. At present, the Chapters Cult has been reluctant to fully embrace Primaris. The Chaplains, Prognosticators and Apothecaries of the Primaris are if anything less welcome than their ordinary brothers, being un-empathetic to the torture they risk with every sleep. Time will tell as to whether the Primaris become full and true Denizens of the Deep, or whether they will be left to quietly wither away and be forgotten. That said, there are those that fear the Primaris for another reason entirely; that they represent the fulfilment of a long-held belief that the End of Days is night. Certainly, enough has happened to make some within the Chapter believe the end is coming far sooner than they have gleamed, and with Primarichs returning and Custodes abroad once more, perhaps in time the Primaris will be seen not as unwelcome outsiders, but the fulfilment of a prophecy scryed ten millennia ago. Power Armour Even with gene-seed implantation complete, there is one final stage that must take place before an aspirant can be called a Denizen of the Deep he must be clad in the distinctive sea green armour. The enclosing suits worn by all Space Marines are made from thick ceramite plates that would be cumbersome but for electrically motivated fibre bundles that replicate the movements of the wearer and supplement his strength. The last gene-seed organ to be implanted in a Space Marine the black carapace rests beneath the skin, itself fitted with neural sensors and transfusion ports. These plug-in points mesh with Space Marine armour, linking the wearers nervous system to his suits mind-impulse controls and turning the suit into a second skin that moves with all the speed and precision of the battle-brothers own body. Without the carapace, Space Marine armour is almost impossible to use, and it is therefore the most distinctive feature of a battle-brother and the true mark of the Adeptus Astartes. There are several types (or marks) of power armour with significantly differing appearances. Many older marks are often worn by Abyssi ceremonial guards or elite units. Power armour is maintained by skilled artificers who are not Space Marines, but servants who spend their lives working for the Chapter. Especially talented artificers are justly celebrated, and examples of their work is highly prized. Elements of ancient armour are religiously hunted down, for they carry both the history of the Chapter and the triumphs of heroic individuals. Such pieces are lovingly restored and painstakingly engraved with new designs. As a result, it is quite common to find power armour that combines pieces from different marks, every greave and gorget a recollection of mighty deeds and battles won. Version 1.0 Artwork&Graphics

First, some tunes to get you in the mood: Up until recently I had been working on some silver marines, had about 1000pts complete, and all was fine and good. Never played a game with them, then 9th edition was announced. As many hobbyists will do it was decided that a new army would be started, especially after the tease of those awesome new models for Primaris armies. So I sold said army, and bought new stuff. (My girlfriend was a bit confused. "But you just sold Space Marines?) I love close combat themed forces, and I love the Executioners, being the son of Dorn and fan of Conan the Barbarian that I am. But I wont be painting the Executioners, no, I am going to be painting one of their successors, the Crimson Axes. "But Toyship," I hear you say, "They are listed as destroyed in Imperial records." Well, they were. The idea I am running with is this is one of the Ultima Founding chapters that were created to replace an extinct chapter. Working on some fluff ideas in the background...thought it might be cool if they were gifted the original chapter's Fortress Monastery and had to cleanse it of Orks or something. Anyway, you came here for pics so here ya go: Pushed myself on this guy, particularly happy with the damaged leather. The face, not so much. Can't find my drill bit for the barrel, a new one has been ordered. Waiting on some waterslide paper to print of some squad markings and chapter icon. I am waffling between a couple of axe designs, anyone wanna help me out? #1: Executioners Axes minus the red shield, axes in red #2: Dark Hunters Axe, also in red: #3: Crimson Guard Axes, in red: Really excited to get more done on these guys, bought the Space Wolves Start Collectinng, gonna offload the upgrades for more stuff. Current plans are to have 3x Intercessor squads armed with Auto Bolt Rifles, not sure what the Sergeants will be armed with yet...most likely chainaxes counting as chainswords. I also have the Aggressors from the Start Collecting box, Haldor Icepelt, (who will be cleaned up and turned into a Captain or Lieutenant), the Lieutenant from Wake the Dead, an Impulsor (for the eventual Hellblasters), and the Ancient from Dark Imperium. Hopefully by the time I have all of that painted the new stuff will be out, as I have a mighty need for the Assault Intercessors and those gorgeous bikes. Thats enough talk for now, thanks in advance for any comments/criticisms!

First, some tunes to get you in the mood: https://youtu.be/nqbHbtAuMI4 Up until recently I had been working on some silver marines, had about 1000pts complete, and all was fine and good. Never played a game with them, then 9th edition was announced. As many hobbyists will do it was decided that a new army would be started, especially after the tease of those awesome new models for Primaris armies. So I sold said army, and bought new stuff. (My girlfriend was a bit confused. "But you just sold Space Marines?) I love close combat themed forces, and I love the Executioners, being the son of Dorn and fan of Conan the Barbarian that I am. But I wont be painting the Executioners, no, I am going to be painting one of their successors, the Crimson Axes. "But Toyship," I hear you say, "They are listed as destroyed in Imperial records." Well, they were. The idea I am running with is this is one of the Ultima Founding chapters that were created to replace an extinct chapter. Working on some fluff ideas in the background...thought it might be cool if they were gifted the original chapter's Fortress Monastery and had to cleanse it of Orks or something. Anyway, you came here for pics so here ya go: Pushed myself on this guy, particularly happy with the damaged leather. The face, not so much. Can't find my drill bit for the barrel, a new one has been ordered. Waiting on some waterslide paper to print of some squad markings and chapter icon. I am waffling between a couple of axe designs, anyone wanna help me out? #1: Executioners Axes minus the red shield, axes in red #2: Dark Hunters Axe, also in red: #3: Crimson Guard Axes, in red: Really excited to get more done on these guys, bought the Space Wolves Start Collectinng, gonna offload the upgrades for more stuff. Current plans are to have 3x Intercessor squads armed with Auto Bolt Rifles, not sure what the Sergeants will be armed with yet...most likely chainaxes counting as chainswords. I also have the Aggressors from the Start Collecting box, Haldor Icepelt, (who will be cleaned up and turned into a Captain or Lieutenant), the Lieutenant from Wake the Dead, an Impulsor (for the eventual Hellblasters), and the Ancient from Dark Imperium. Hopefully by the time I have all of that painted the new stuff will be out, as I have a mighty need for the Assault Intercessors and those gorgeous bikes. Thats enough talk for now, thanks in advance for any comments/criticisms!

Hey brothers, I've been planning on starting up a space marine project for a while now and have settled on Doom Eagles. I'm focusing on the 2nd company and mostly doing primaris to start. I do plan on branching out to regular marines as well. Any advice is welcome. I'm waiting on black gothic number decals and I know a few models have ruman numerals on them which is not the Doom Eagle way, that will be fixed when decals come. Also some markings are white and I need to paint them red. Need to paint the base rims black all in due time. The 2nd company has spent years during the Indomitus Crusade fighting tyranids with their brothers of the Ultramarines so some have tyranic veteran markings. No back ground supporting this but I liked the idea. First up is my 2nd company captain. Valac Aquilon Lt of 2nd Company, ruman numerals bother me on him lol. Painting over them tonight. Also i know the helmet stripes are incorrect. My error. 1st Company Captain and test model for project. Ironclad dreadnought 2nd Company Redemptor dreadnought Daedelos First five intercessors of 3rd squad Ratherion 1st squad of 2nd company Cheers Primarch83

Hi all- finally starting up a plog to share my progress as I paint up a homebrew DA successor chapter I put together. Lots of different bits of inspiration, including FW Nemean Reaver and Blackshields transfer sheet, and kitbashes from many that post here. I particularly want to call out @SpacedHulk's Sword Bearers (http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/272544-sword-bearers-dark-angels-revenants-8419/) and @DaemonPrinceDargor's 30k DA (http://www.bolterandchainsword.com/topic/355024-dargors-first-legion/) for a lot of what got me inspired to pull these together. To kick things off, a short Index Astartes type writeup for the chapter follows bellow- feedback welcome. As I start and/or complete units, I'll post them here. Thanks for looking.

Hello folks! Its been a while. So, i have finally restarted the work on my Space Wolf successor project - The Draugrbj

Greetings, Recently returned to 40k toward the last half of 8th edition after being gone since the very first part of 5th edition. I started in 2nd as a Space Wolf before transitioning to a Vanilla DIY Marine player in 3rd, which is where I became a fan of the Raven Guard's more modern/professional army playstyle. I have never played a melee weighted army, even when I played the Demonhunter/Grey Knights ages ago, This is the edition that changes. Though I half tons of love for the Templars, I don't feel I can deviate quite that far from "Codex". More specifically, I very much am looking forward to painting a primarily red army that will be a Primaris only Chapter. Mephiston seals the deal as just about the coolest looking Primaris Character to date. He also will be my first "must design around" Librarian since the Grey Knights. I can't wait to put my color scheme to work on him. Also ... I know I said all-Primaris but only and only exception might be converting an old Dreadnought I had left from 3rd edition into a Librarian Dreadnought. I hadn't given it much thought before (because I love the Primaris Chaplain models - all of them) but this just might be a Chapter with a higher than normal ration of psykers. Introductions complete I am looking for any ideas/thoughts/insights on expanding the army past the two sets of Indomitus Marines that I purchased last month. I fully expect not to put a fine edge on the sword so to speak until the new Marine Codex comes out in October but I have a ton of building and painting to do already before then and I hope this blog will help motivate me. Not to mention GW replenishment is horrid right now. As mentioned I have two Indomitus Marine sets and purchasing Mephiston is a must. That gives me a solid 1000 points to start ... it's from there I could use some help on what to add next. I have a few hundred in trade value with an online store so when GW gets stock out again I hope to grab what I need fairly quick to turn Indomitus into a competitive army. I am making some assumptions. For instance, Bladeguard and Outriders going from a unit of 3 to units of 3-6. I've heard 9 for Outriders but imo they have such a large base size a unit of 4/5 is about as big as can be usefully maneuvered. Playing RG in 8th has me use to using CP for deploying units like Aggressors so this is new to me. I assume two Impulsors are in my future? As a side note, while I don't have any plans for them, I also have two Invictors and a Xiphon collecting dust. Thanks for any thoughts and I hope to post pics of my "Successor" color scheme soonish along with a name for the Chapter.

Wrapping up a few projects. The first is the Gravis Captain from the box set. Turns out he DA-ifiies up pretty nicely. Just trimmed off the helmet crest, added an angel icon, and swapped the sword for a DW Terminator sword. Then there's this old school Terminator Master I'd paint-stripped, given away, then got back, jazzed up a bit with some DA bling, and painted up again so I'd have a counts-as-Belial, because the old school 3rd ed pewter mini is way better than the current official Belial. Finally, I've got a 5-man squad of Infiltrators. They're my 3rd Primaris Troops choice, so now I can field a battalion of all-Primaris if I want to.