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  1. The Sundering Call note: this is currently placeholders and outdated content from previous smatterings of lore and bits, some more comprehensive and complete versions will be added in time so please bear with me! 14/09/2019: Character titles, Zhang's background, geneseed first draft, Chaos icons added as dividers 18/09/2019: Beliefs first draft, appearance added with first draft, alternating melon/white headings added 27/10/2019: Warband symbol added Origins The Swords of Victory were once a paragon of heroism; a chapter of no small accomplishment. Heroic and selfless, winning countless great victories over every foe imaginable their deeds in battle were matched by their grace and humility in peace. Staying to help not only rebuild but also improve life once the battle was won they were beloved by all who knew them and lauded among the greatest of heroes. While strategic commanders could only voice in private their displeasure at the limited number of battles they would fight none could doubt the results of their actions and the spectacular victories they provided. It is without surprise that the grateful peoples would want to honour their saviours; statues would be raised for their victories and songs written to praise their name. Over time the Swords did come to appreciate these acts of thanks but this would be the seed that would eventually result in their fall. For what once started as acknowledgement of gratitude did then become appreciation and finally expectation of the adulation they received. In time this devotion would become more important than the victory that earned it. The Swords always has a grace about them in appearance and action, squads and brothers would compete for glory but this took a more sinister aspect once their attitude to victory changed. It was no longer about friendly rivalry and skill and become a direct competition regardless of the consequences. What was once battles won in the most efficient way to preserve life became a race to see who could take the most. Ironically this fervent desire to be better and more impressive only lead to lightning quick victories that gave Imperial commanders the fast victories they craved, without care for how it came about. The name of the Swords became praised to new heights but it was not enough. Surely it was time for them to be proclaimed the greatest of all, as is clearly proper? Surely this was only fair? Not only did they prosecute campaigns in less time than others but they did so with grace that other brutish chapters could never hope to achieve. Such greatness must be rewarded and so it became, but through the attention of Slaanesh. It was not just the Prince of Excess who noticed the Swords though, but also the glaring eye of the Inquisition that turned upon them... Perhaps foreseeing what may be the Holy Inquisition of the Emperor deemed the Swords needed to be brought to account for their actions. The Sword's Chapter Master was indignant and sent their representatives away with no small threats should they return, but it was a ruse and distraction letting spies report far more than the Sword's inhospitality to their master. Without delay a fleet is assembled to enforce the Inquisition's will; regiments of the Guard are joined by Sisters of the Sacred Rose and 6 companies of the Legio Venator Space Marines - headed by the Inquisitor Lord himself and his personal retainers. The Sundering Sword The Swords are incandescent with rage that anyone would presume to hold sway over their domain and challenge their authority like this. Their fall is complete when they turn their guns on the Imperium without responding to hails. The people of their home world rushed to the defence of their heroes, sacrificing themselves without thought in any way they could. The corruption of Slaanesh became ever more apparent as the Imperial forces pressed onwards finding every man, woman and child they meet a belligerent foe that must be slain. Before long the taint of Chaos is clear and the Emperor's warriors fight ever harder as the planet is drenched blood for every inch. Despite their skill at battle - and their opinion of such - it was a battle impossible for the Swords to win once the Eldar mysteriously appeared to aid the attackers. Whether joining to fight the mutual foe of Chaos or to repay one of the many bloody victories the Swords had gained over the Eldar it sent the scales of battle crashing against them. The Inquisitor had chosen his forces well, what's more displayed an unusual flair for strategy; the forces at his command were grim and determined, resisting the powers of Chaos and resolute in executing the Emperor's will no matter what. Every sally by the Swords was pushed back with righteous faith and fire power - the unthinkable was happening and the Swords of Victory were losing, and losing badly. The rage of their Chapter Master at admitting defeat was said to have been terrible to behold and the survivors fled to the warp, leaving their world and its people to the cleansing fire of the Imperium - and taking their souls to Slaanesh. None of the survivors talk of their previous life, the shame of their first defeat burns brightly even to this day. That the Inquisitor declared this result a great success perhaps suggests some greater threat to the Imperium was avoided but the truth can never be known. While the Sunder may well cast aside this part of their history the Imperium has not forgotten; it is widely known that the forces of the Emperor involved in the initial crusade are all too eager to catch up with them once more to finish what they started... Home World Nomads of Perfection Once resolute and firmly secure in their home world, the Sunder left their world and it's people when their fall to Slaanesh was complete. Never to return or even cast a thought to these people who adored them more than life itself, not even as a vengeful Imperium put it to the sword. (fleet based) Recruitment Combat Doctrine The Sunder carry out war in much the same manner in which they did before their fall. Primarily infantry based their skill at war is such that the Marines themselves will always be their greatest asset, so they generally don't make a large use of vehicles aside from transportation. The war band is strictly controlled in appearances - colours in particular being something Yjun is most keen on. Outside of the war band's colours (the pink for Slaanesh, the white from their former livery) squads make use of a colour and mark their armour in various ways to bind them to their squad brothers. Outside of that further variation is forbidden and individuals customise their armour to their own desires to state their presences. The war band's attitude to most other things is set predominantly to individual Marine's preferences. Some despise mutation and consider it ugly; others desire it. Some have forged ornate and decorated armour; others stand plain aside from the Praefactor's colours. Beauty comes in many forms and it is next to impossible to get such a group of individuals to agree on anything consistently. Others would have surely fractured under such strain but fortunately the Call follow those with the greatest skill and the closest to perfection. Each following planning to learn, steal and eventually replace him but yet standing together with his fellow lessers in doing so. It is fitting that the Sunder make no sense to outsiders as they would have it no other way! Organisation Beliefs The beliefs of the Sunder take various forms; and not always coherent ones, at least on the surface. They readily speak down to any they consider their inferior (which is pretty much everyone), but will be courteous to those that they bear some respect towards - or more commonly those who have a use to the Sunder. To the Sunder worthiness is one of the true aspirations for all life; the problem is that for each Marine you'd ask you'd likely get a different answer as to in which regard. That is besides something they can all agree on in martial might, for what is a Marines if not an instrument of war? Fervent competition is normal with Marines always seeking to one up others and they're not above discrete ways to inhibit rivals (though woe to anyone caught doing so, for the Praefactor does not tolerate waste of his resources...). Diligent training and tournaments are common when not engaged in other activities such as worship, the less pious taking to the field more often or usually entertaining their own wants and/or needs. The battlefield is also a place for worship after all. Where others could be fractured by the competition it is not so for the Sunder, beholden as they all are to the Praefactor's absolute will. To some he is an object of adulation to be followed or perhaps imitated; others quietly scheme to surpass him one day to take his place and some, usually the eldest, adhere as the old hierarchy dictates - but all follow. This unity gives the Sunder great strength and while they would not admit it is no small part of their success. This cohesion is only so far as he leads adequately - the facade of perfection must be maintained at all times lest he be ritually challenged to duel for the leadership. This brutal system helps keep the Sunder strong as much as united, for the weak could never hope to prevail and the Sunder would never follow the weak. Absolute power comes with downsides accordingly, as to lead you must put no foot wrong - as an ancient Terran saying goes "a crown does not make a king". Appearance Being prideful creatures they usually take a dim view of mutation, and tend to consider those spending more time in the warp to be idling around at best, but some more zealous Marines are more favourable to gifts from their patron even if few in number. Appearances count for much and while all will stick to the colours decreed by their master (the white and gold their former livery, the off-pink a tribute to their god) they will take care of their armour and wargear further than the need to rely on them to survive. Wearing more older/original armour is a testament to your skill, either as an older member of the warband or being capable of taking them, so are highly sought after - in particular MkIV Maximus pattern armour that once proudly bore the white and gold are common, as the Chapter had them in good supply. Choice is not often available for a roving warband as much as they may trade and steal, so most Marines wear armour from several sources including former Chaos Marine allies (or even pillaged from battlefields!). Geneseed Prior to their fall the Swords followed their Ultramarine primogenitor ways closely, using the Codex Astartes to further their ways of war and bring greater glory. Despite this they always remained aloof from their cousins, even the Ultramarines themselves, and didn't interact with them in any particular way different to how they worked with any other Chapters. Even without any closeness their turn to Slaanesh is considered a stain to be removed by their former peers, for the affront to their gene-heritage is compounded by the mockery of the Codex itself. Aside from the Sunder's open disdain for it the fact that their organisational structures and methodologies match their loyal ways so closely is an insult just as unforgivable. Of this hypocrisy the Sunder apparently show no acknowledgement, whether intentional or not. Notable Characters Praefactor Yjun Master of the Toll, Keeper of Oaths, Scion of Perfection Not much is known about Yjun though it is anyone's guess if this is intentional or not. Having ruled supreme over the Sunder for living memory some claim that he was the original Swords of Victory's Chapter Master, others that it is a persona adopted by each Praefactor. Whatever the truth is seems to matter little, for Yjun has lead the Call in a manner they appear to find satisfactory enough as it is claimed he has never fought a duel for leadership. Yjun is highly talented combatant and masterful strategist that would surprise those expecting the Sunder to be more interesting in sating their desires - the Praefactor reigns supreme in all things and his word is law. That is assuming he deigns to fight at all for the Sunder consider no battle preferable to a disappointing one. There are other ways to be entertained after all. It may be Yjun's greatest gift is his diplomacy and silver tongue. There appears to be little he doesn't know, and powerful figures are lining up to pay for the Sunder's services despite their reputation. Perhaps there is more to him than meets the eye, perhaps his fickle and contradictory nature has a greater goal in mind? If so it is a mystery that will remain so until he decides otherwise. Ijax "the Silent" Master of Books, Warpsighter The psyker Ijax is somewhat of a mystery even to Veterans of the war band. He never speaks instead communication through a Daemonette who always accompanies him. Whether this is because he considers talking to others beneath him or signifies a more malignant relationship nobody knows. Not much thought is generally given to him as most are too busy with their own affairs even if a powerful psyker to aid in war is always useful, and to make things better he's seldom seen outside of battle. What he does in this time none can say for sure but it is usually assuming that he is busy researching and using the powers of the warp to find worthy foes or potential employers with useful trades to be made. Few even claim he uses his power not to find strong foes, but rather avoid them for it is said he was once the Chief Librarian and has foreseen the Call's destruction should their final foes as the Swords of Victory catch them again... Zhang the Lion Venerable Ancient, Earl of the Kindred Though the chapter armoury of the Sunder was mostly lost when they fled to the warp, this was not the case for the 1st Company that had split from the main forces after the glorious victory on Lilaethan. Aside from forming much needed reinforcements and uniting the survivors this also meant the chapter's greatest warriors still lived and foremost amongst them were the Dreadnoughts of the 1st Company. Of these heroes Zhang stands proudly alongside the best and greatest, earning the name of the lion during his tenure in the 4th Company as an Assault Marine due to his unblemished valour and skill. Suffering his first death during one of the many battles against the Eldar he holds a special hatred of their kind, and was said to be an active part of the Sunder's gradual service to the Dark Prince. Where other renegade and traitor Dreadnoughts are maltreated this is not so for the Sunder, in one of the many manners they retain their old ways. It was Zhang himself that discovered he could renew and retain his senses by bloodshed, keeping him as active as when first interred - Dreadnoughts that spill enough in tribute to Slaanesh even find boons in reward. So in battle is Zhang more deadly and powerful than ever before as terrified foes see the damage they inflict undone as he rips all before him to pieces. While this can result in the Dreadnoughts being more bloodthirsty than their commanders may wish, their unstoppable onslaught is always worth the risk so the Sunder are ever keeping an eye out for a new chassis to take... Notable Events The Sundering of Lilaethan Arguably their greatest of victories - their last when they were still loyal to the Imperium - The Sundering of Lilaethan was such an epic battle that it would forever shape the Sunder, giving them their name once they fell to Chaos and an eternal foe in the Eldar. It was the name given to a decisive battle to save a young Imperial colony on an Eldar maiden world from the vengeful xenos, the moment the aliens were at the apex of their strategy the Swords of Victory struck with speed and ferocity that seemed all but impossible to the beleaguered Imperial defenders. History records would - before their expunging - declare that the Swords attacked with such a mastery of war that the Eldar had no choice but to focus on them, saving the PDF force. Of course the truth was far from it as the Swords had no intention of saving lives by drawing the attention of the enemy, but given the choice the Eldar knew who the true and greatest foe was even if the Imperium was yet to understand. It mattered little in the end, the full strength of the Chapter slaughtered them to the last and as the Swords left behind exuberant celebration their Chief Librarian ordered the fleet back to their home world with the plundered soul stones. The fate of these Eldar stones is unknown as the Swords were visited by the Inquisition and their allies shortly after returning... Battle Cry None; though the Swords of Victory were once known for their war cry of "First to victory", which the Sunder darkly mirror in action rather than words.
  2. I like many other frater have long dreamt of a day when I could command the might of a titan Legio but have yet to win the lottery and as such this dream has remained beyond the reach of my financial capabilities. But thanks to the revival of AT which was just fading away when I first got into 40k I too can command the mighty God engines I've spent so long dreaming of. The problem now is one I didn't think I'd ever be facing. Not which Titan Legio but which Titan Legios? Since I don't often make it to my local GW or FLGS to play once I do get into actually playing it will most likely be with my fiance and or step daughters. This means I NEED enough engines for at least two opponents maybe three eventually but for now I definitely need to figure out two. My wonderful loving Plastic Crack Addiction Enabler fiance got me my first engine and knights for Christmas and I gleefully set about getting all my various sub assemblies ready and constructed to the point I do with most models before I do any GS or Styrene work. I really must say these kits are a delight i can see why so many have struggled with the reaver legs but beyond that they seem to be very intuitive wonderfully detailed kits and the poseability if the Reaver is marvelous for a model its size im really looking forward to getting my hands on the other kits in the AT line. My issue as I stated is my inability to choose which Legios? I would really really appreciate any input any of you have as though I consider myself quite knowledgeable of the legions of the Adeptus Astartes the Titan Legios are a very different matter. The other problem is it seems most of the information about the Legios is in books I don't yet possess. Here's what i'm looking for if any of you Titanicus savants might be able to help. ---Loyalists--- My main and all time favorite legion is the Salamanders i've always had a thing for dragons and im actually a hobbyist blacksmith myself so I find them very relatable. I would like to find a legio who was recorded as being attached to the XVIIIth especially if there's one who was primarily attached to them or solely attached to them. ---Traitors--- As with my loyalists I'd like to stick with a Legio who was connected to one of the Astartes Legions i've built before and plan to pick back up in the future and that would be the World Eaters. I know there was a legio mentioned with them in the novel betrayer but I can't recall which ? But I know I definitely want to build some Khorne aligned demon engines in the future but i'll start with them being untainted at first. Anywho thanks for checking out my shenanigans and please like I said don't hesitate with the legio suggestions any info or suggestions are greatly appreciated.
  3. Im a long time lurker of ye olde Bolter and Chainsword and several years ago finally got on board and started posting and making many great friends in the community and participating in every event I could. Rite around the turn of 8th and the beginning of the new age of GW things in my personal life got hectic and being a man of many hobbies I ended up shelving my projects and slipping into the warp to pursue one of my other passions blacksmithing which I definitely am still pursuing but i've started to get the hobby itch back and decided to get back to it converting and painting and such. Unfortunately the image hosting site I used turned out to have an expiration date and all my old posts are now lacking photos. Looks like it's time for a fresh start. Previously I focused primarily on my beloved salamanders and will still feature them quite heavily but it's time I branch out as i've really come to appreciate the background of many other chapters both loyalist and traitors thanks to the astonishing works of the writers over at black library and many of the Frater here. My plan currently is to convert up some fresh characters and finish up some I left mid project. This thread will likely be extremely varied because since I don't really play I model what i want to model that day not what i need to finish a unit. ++Planned Loyalists++ -Salamanders -Space Wolves -Iron Hands -Raven Guard -Carcharodons -Custodes -Deathwatch -Imperial Knights -Astra Militarum ++Planned Traitors++ -Death Guard -World Eaters -Emperors Children -Thousand Sons -Night Lords -Traitor Guard -Traitor Knights and Mechanicus ++Xenos++ -Ork -Tau -Tyranid ++Adeptus Titanicus++ (As of yet undecided) Loyalist Forgeworld (As of yet undecided) Traitor Forgeworld ++Also++ -Alpha Legion -Maybe eventually some of the Necromunda gangs
  4. He was dreaming. He knew he was dreaming. It always started the same. The slow culminating headache gloom drummed into his awareness. The gloom cleared and he looked down at his hands. Gone was the pristine Imperial purple of his mark IV plate. A face had been pinned to his left vambrace. "Who's face is this?" he asked himself. His right vambrace and gauntlet were a shimmering purple, the color shifting in the light. Different shades of purple, blue and even pink shimmered on his vambrace. Colchisian script engraved his left vambrace. Colchisian? He remembered, or rather half-remembered: a token of esteem given to him. By who? A gift from a Word Bearer? He spat with disdain. He looked up and he saw the walls of the outer palace. The walls were breached. An Imperator-class titan loomed in the near distance, it's mighty ordnance opening the defenses of the Imperial palace. Flames and smoke choked everything. Terra is under attack?! He ran forward into the breach, his power spear gutting an emerging figure in yellow power armor, spilling his intestines. Blood gurgled out of the yellow armored warrior's mouth. The yellow figure slumped to the ground. On his back swing, he decapitated astartes in yellow. Yellow armor? A son of Dorn? What is going on? He looked at the spear-blade and marveled at the intricate engravings worked into the blade itself. Runes crawled and skittered across the surface. His headache boomed louder. Leathered human skin wrapped the adamantium shaft. He found comfort in his weapon and his grip tightened. He swore he could hear laughter. Out of the smoke an lithe, graceful creature of pure beauty and horror sprang onto another son of Dorn seeking to flank him. The creature's hooked claws eviscerated the Imperial Fist. Blood coated the warp-spawned beauty. She looked at him and licked at the thick blood on her face with a tongue that was impossibly long. More of the lithe warp-spawn seemingly materialized out of the smoke. He smiled at her and she smiled back, wicked, spiked teeth slicked with blood. He turned from the breach, looking to the habstacks of the Imperial City. The scent of burning promethium, smoke and blood filtered through his auto-senses. He laughed, the sound strange to him. It was thicker, yet more harmonious than his laugh. Was it his laugh? Again, he tightened his grip on his power-spear and again he felt reassured. Another dose of Fabius' combat stimulants pumped into his bloodstream. He felt agony and a rapturous euphoria. He laughed louder and the psychic-sonic shockwave powered through and were amplified by the screamers mounted into his pauldrons, clearing the path before him. He ran towards the habstacks, the daemonette and her sisters followed him. He woke up and screamed. He was back aboard the Andronicus. A bust of Fulgrim smiled down on him from a shelf. Fulgrim. He knew Fulgrim. Fulgrim was his gene-sire, Primarch of the Emperor's Children. He was Darius Valerius, he was a prefector and member the Phoenix Guard. His star was justly, albeit finally, rising. Fulgrim had favored him much recently. He latched onto that fact that he had earned and carried such favor and pulled himself out his meditative state. The headache had reached it's crescendo and began to ebb. Blood trickled from his nose. A sharp chrip sounded from the panel in the wall. He was being summoned for his augmentations. He didn't know how much longer he would be able to keep such an imperfection secret. Surely someone would find out. The alarm chimed again. Best not keep the Spider waiting. ++++++++++INCOMING TRANSMISSION++++++++++ +++CYPHER ENCRYPTION DETECTED [[foxtrot//juliet//echo//kilo//six//three//six]]+++ +++ACCESS GRANTED+++ +++WAITING+++ +++WAITING+++ +++To: Emperor's Children Battlebarge: Gloria Invicta. Location: [[REDACTED]]+++ +++Incoming Transmission. Ident: Eidolon, Lord Commander Primus of the Emperor's Children+++ +++Receiver: Communication Servitor 013-A1+++ Prefector Darius Valerius, your reinforcements are incoming. Third company veterans inbound on the Strike Cruiser, Claudii Nerones. Hold at all costs. Our gene-sire has seen fit to promote you again. Congratulations, Commander. Don't disappoint us. +++To: Eidolon, Lord Commander Primus of the Emperor's Children. Location: [[REDACTED]]+++ +++Incoming Transmission. Ident: Lord Commander Darius Valerius+++ +++Receiver: Communication Servitor 0988+++ Received and acknowledged. Death to the False Emperor. It has begun.
  5. Compendium Tratoris: Extinction Agenda The Shadow Kings This post is just me setting up the layout (wanted to get it actually done before I get distracted again), so I'll be adding to this post over the next couple of days with what I have so far. Massively WIP, and if you know my previous "works" you'll know I like to blend rules with fluff so these are my count-as Chaos Space Marines (all factions) guys. It's a multi-warband project with the guys pictured at the top (The Shadow Kings) being the guys in charge but I will include details on the other major player warbands. - Origin - Imperial records list the origins of the Shadow Kings as unknown, with first possible sighting being a grainy pic-image of a traitor wearing a similar symbol at the Siege of the Emperor's Palace during the Horus Heresy. Due to the quality of the image being so poor it is heavily disputed as to whether the symbol seen at Terra is in fact that of the Shadow Kings (which may suggest they were a faction within one of the traitor legions) or just an Alpha Legionnaire with a variation of the Hydra symbol. One theory postulated by radical and now excommunicate Inquisitor Julian Lore formerly from the Ordo Xenos, suggests that the Shadow Kings might in fact be one of the Lost Legions who somehow ended up trapped in the shadow realm of the Drukhari Mandrakes. Although Inquisitor Lore had presented evidence to support his theory, his excommunication has called the validity of his theory into question and leads many to suspect his evidence was fabricated in an attempt at spreading disinformation. Most in the Inquisition instead believe that the Shadow Kings are simply just another Chapter gone renegade or splinter warband from the Chaos Legions. - Beliefs - The Shadow Kings do not serve the Chaos Gods, instead their service is given up to the Gods they call the Stygian Pantheon, Thirteen Gods of which the Shadow God who goes by many names but is most often referred to as Malacar was the first and creator of the pantheon. It is claimed that before the material universe came into being there nothingness, and that Malacar was that nothingness. The creation of the universe is said to have brought him great pain and his servants seek to return the universe to its original state. When the Warp became manifest in the material universe Malacar used its energy to create the other twelve Gods of the pantheon. So whilst he and his shadow children (his equivalent of daemons) may not be a God of the Warp, the rest of the pantheon and their children are. - The Stygian Pantheon - Malacar - God of Shadow Anamon - God of Dominance Axis - God of Destruction Gallotier - God of War Kor'natha - God of Bloodshed Nakria - Goddess of Predation Raagnaria - Goddess of Sorcery Yata Ui - God of Corruption Thragnessa - God of Death Xialgar - God of Oblivion Devica - Goddess of Torment Galrinak - God of Fire Silica - God of Disease Author's note: I realise some of these gods share aspects of the Four, but they are not related to them. Example Silica is not just another name for Nurgle, and worshipping Silica does not make you a worshipper of Nurgle and vice-versa. - Demons - Each God has his own demons (going with the standard non-40k spelling so not as to confuse with those of Chaos), they come for the most part in three categories. Emperor Demons who equate to Chaos Greater Demons, Chosen Demons who equate to the likes of Plagebearers, Bloodletters etc, then there are the Lesser Demons that equate to the likes of Tzeentch Screamers, Khorne Bloodhounds etc. Each God has only thirteen Emperor Demons. The Stygian Pantheon also creates daemon princes from their greatest mortal followers. God / Element / Emperor Demon / Chosen Demon / Lesser Demon Thragnessa / Death / Deathbringer / Reaper / Death Scribe Kor'natha / Bloodshed / Blooddrinker / Flesheater / Red Mist Malacar / Shadow / Shadowlord / Shadow / Lesser Shadow Devica / Torment / Grand Torturer / Paindancer / Skinlasher Yata Ui / Corruption / Arch Devil / Devil / Lesser Devil Silica / Disease / Scourge / Swarmhost / Spawnling Raagnaria / Sorcery / Spellmistress / Spellflayer / Spellsprite Gallotier / War / Battlemaster / Warbeast / Warfury Axis / Destruction / Destroyer / Axe Wielder / Damager Xialgar / Oblivion / Harbinger / Oblivion Soldier / Extinction Seeker Nakria / Predation / Eternal Hunter / Stalker / Predator Galrinak / Fire / Flamelord / Hellbeast / Firesprite Anamon / Dominance / Dominator / Conquistadors / Leveler Fiend - The Horsemen - Aside from their mortal and demonic warriors each God has a single Horseman, for all intents and purposes demi-gods / avatars who lead their forces in the material universe. Chief amongst them is the Shadowborn who commands the Shadow Kings, the undisputed commander-in-chief of all forces that serve the Stygian Panetheon. The origin of the Horsemen is unknown but speculation leans towards them being the first Champions of the Stygian Gods, raised up as extremely powerful Daemon Princes. The Shadowborn - Malacar War - Gallotier Death - Thragnessa Pestilence - Silica Conquest - Anamon Ruin - Axis Extinction - Xialgar Torment - Devica Corruption - Yata Ui Slaughter - Kornatha Predation - Nakria Ash - Galrinak Malediction - Raagnaria - Organization - The Shadow Kings consist of many warbands led by their own champions that via for power much like those in the Chaos Legions. The only absolute is that no champion can ever hope take over the position of a Horsemen, nor do they try. - Affliated Warbands - The Bloodborn A World Eater warband who has forsaken Khorne and taken up Kor'natha as their new patron. Void Stalkers A warband of unknown origin, the Void Stalkers as a whole serve no patron God in particular. Black flames writhe across their armour. Many amongst the Void Stalkers are known to have enhanced abilities during battle. Dream Eaters A Emperor's Children warband who has forsaken their Legion, their Primarch and Slaanesh, to take up Devica as their patron. They do not feel pleasure or pain themselves, so take to inflicting torment on others to show their worship. Black Sabre Not a warband in of itself, but instead a sort of Special Forces that's members are seconded from other warbands and the Shadow Kings. Author's note: Sort of a traitor version of the Death Watch. Count-as Fallen. Wolves of Horus Former Sons of Horus who refused to join Abaddon's Black Legion. Originally they sought shelter from the Shadow Kings to evade Abaddon, but now they are true believers of the Stygian Pantheon. The Blight A former Death Guard warband who neither aligned themselves with Mortarion nor Typhus. They have forsaken Nurgle to take up worship of Silica. The Fallen Lords A group of seven Sorcerers who raise the undead instead of leading Traitor Astartes. Their leader is Balor the Leveller who has bound the power of the others to him. They serve Anamon God of Dominance. Balor the Leveller Bahl'al the Watcher Soulblighter Myrdred the Deciever Shiver Juggernaut Gilndeer the Tormentor Black Oracles A Thousand Sons warband who abandoned Magnus and the Legion shortly after Ahriman's Rubric. In pursuit of further sorcerous knowledge they have forsaken Tzeentch and taken up Raagnaria as their patron. Wicked Gods The largest warband not of the Shadow Kings to serve them. Originally a Space Marine Chapter whose name has long been forgotten, they have recruited numerous renegades to their force. Interestingly although they serve the Shadow Kings, they do not worship the Stygian Pantheon, instead worshipping a group of lesser warpgods embodying the seven deadly sins. Mammon - God of Greed Rahab - God of Envy Doema - God of Sloth Kanash - God of Gluttony Lilith - Goddess of Lust Abraxas - God of Wrath Moloch - God of Pride - Notable characters - The Shadowborn: Leader of the Shadow Kings and the Horseman of Shadow. He wields the axe Tasga a weapon reputed to have been forged from the corpse of one of the first Gods, said to be able to destroy anything completely even the denizens of the Warp. In battle the Shadowborn while powerful seems lesser than the other Horsemen but this is merely because he conceals his true capabilities. Count-as: Abaddon Barak the Blasphemer: Leader of the Bloodborn, so named by others within the World Eaters still loyal to Khorne. He is the one who turned many a World Eater to Kor'natha's worship to form his warband. Count-as: Kh
  6. Index Astartes The Basilisks Chapter “To know that our eyes are upon them must cause our enemies to be paralyzed with fear, to acknowledge the immediacy of their mortal lives. To look upon our silent gaze, they must know death, swift and sure!”-Asmodeus, 1st Serpent Lord Origins Meeting of Inquisitor Moisei and Master Kalis “Many eyes have pried into the cloying shadows of that founding, Inquisitor. Few have found what they sought. Fewer still have emerged unscathed.” The Inquisitor scoffed, but had no reply. The power armored giant chuckled again. “Don’t let my words deter you. We have the utmost interest in your…findings” Of the many Chapters birthed from the darkness of the 21st founding, few proved successful, and many were even driven swiftly to extinction. Among the enduring 'Cursed' Chapters are the Basilisks. If they were created with a specific purpose, it remains unknown. Official observers have concluded that the Basilisks are of Iron Hands descent, attested to by their doctrine, and a timely submission of gene-seed tithes. Since the time they emerged from the void no records have followed to confirm this, or give any other clues regarding their origins…which isn’t to say that no one is looking. Multiple factions within the Imperium have, in the past, questioned both the legitimacy of the Chapter’s genetic material, and its loyalty to the Emperor. Some still do. The Basilisks have, with great effort, evaded most unwanted attention, though they are still dogged from sector to sector by one Inquisitor Moisei, who has long doubted how such ‘purity’ could have emerged from the 21st Founding. The Chapter avoids as much contact with these and other Imperial Forces as possible, remaining tight-lipped under whatever scrutiny the Inquisition attempts to pursue…which has done nothing to dissuade their detractors. The Fleet Final audiolog from the pirate frigate Sorento “Is that a cruiser!? An Astartes cruiser!? You said the frigate was a Trader! Get us back to the fleet, now! Damn it all, is that another? Brace for im----” To the knowledge of the Imperium and even the Basilisks themselves, they had no world of origin. Since they were first sighted plowing through the void, no marine has set foot planetside except to do battle. The fleet is extensive, and continually grows with the addition of captured ships. These include a startlingly high concentration of Battle Barges, which despite being of a younger and smaller caliber than the venerable vessels of the Heresy, are able to give significant body to the otherwise thinly spread Basilisk fleet. The Monastery Battle Barge Serpent's Tongue and its escort are found at the heart of the fleet, where they are best able to support any engagement, while the rest of the fleet is spread in a loose, coiling line across a vast stretch of space on either side and there is no consistent course or predictability to the fleet’s movements. Constant communication is maintained from one end of the fleet to the other with as much accuracy as possible in an effort to allow fleet elements to redeploy for support as quickly as possible. The Chapter’s more frequent enemies, traitor fleets and pirates both human and xenos, have learned to attack or flee at the first sign of a Basilisk ship, as reinforcements are never far behind. In turn, the Basilisks have developed an expertise in rapid boarding actions as well as improved methods of defending smaller patrol fleets. Recruitment Survivors The Apothecary’s expression was impassive as he dressed the recruit’s wounds, stemming the open flow of blood issuing from his arm and side, while the man lay still on the table. His eyes stared straight up, unmoving. He would survive his wounds, but whether or not hypnotherapy and conditioning could get him past the mental trauma remained to be seen. The Chaplain stood looking silently on for a long time, but finally revealed his purpose. “Can you describe what you saw?” The recruit flinched; the Chaplain had undone all his effort thus far to bury the last eight hours, but he did not change his gaze. Eventually, he slowly shook his head. The Chaplain appeared to be satisfied, and turned and began walking from the room. “One final test awaits you,” The Chaplain stopped at the doorway, “Steel yourself. You will return to that ship again before your trial is over. If you are not ready, you will become what you now fear. To become one of us, you must know no fear.” The neophyte sat bolt upright, heading snapping to the doorway, but the Chaplain had gone. Falling slowly back to the table as the Apothecary grumbled at replacing the newly torn wrappings. The recruit’s gaze returned to the ceiling. Back to the ship. One more time. Like most Chapters of the Cursed Founding, the greatest challenge of the Basilisks is not victory in battle, but propagation. In order to maintain a flow of successful initiates, the Chapter takes suitable candidates en masse from liberated worlds. For the inhabitants of such worlds, it is the price paid for freedom, as the green clad Astartes move among them, claiming the choicest of their youth. No word of explanation is ever given and often the Basilisks leave a liberated world without the planet's inhabitants even knowing who they are. Few worlds visited by the Basilisks understand anything more about their visitation other than that they are purged of whatever heresy plagues them in return for however many children the marines choose to spirit away. The trials faced by recruits are among the most lethal of tests employed by Space Marines, and despite taking large numbers of prospective initiates there are very few survivors. While the exact nature of the trials is unknown, the bodies of most failed neophytes are unceremoniously jettisoned into the void, and their occasional recovery by Inquisitor Moisei has long fueled his obsessive investigation. Some of these corpses appear to have been pierced by the fangs of some great maw, others torn by man made weapons, and still others show signs of both. These aren’t unusual fates among Astartes recruits, but they do indicate that the Basilisks house some sort of creature for these trials, though no one has ever observed the Basilisks collecting any such specimens. The Chapter keeps a fairly large body of serfs, but they are maintained at a distant arms length, usually assigned to the support of ships in the fleet rather than working with battle brothers. This is the most fortunate fate to befall unfit recruits, while the dregs are augmented or turned into servitors to assist the Techmarines in their considerable work. Combat Doctrine Day 16 of the Wailing Portent Campaign For two days the rangers of Iybraesil had lain in wait, assured by the Farseer that the humans would pass this way with minimal support. While Ynarana’s banshees were too important to set aside for days at a time, they would arrive in time to mop up. Mendor and his squad were beginning to shift into ready positions as the appointed time came close, sliding the barrels of their long rifles over ledges amid the debris of the ruins, sighting down the only clear path through the area. Minutes passed, then hours. Mendor began to stretch, and sniffed as a strange scent reached his nose. He had turned part way toward the source when he felt his muscles seize up, his eyes catching sight of a small canister on the ground nearby. He couldn’t move. The ground crunched heavily beside him, but he couldn’t turn to look. What came into view first was Ynarana’s head, jaw slack, eyes sightlessly staring, hair caught in the gauntleted fist of a Space Marine. The green armored figure crouched down. “Expecting someone, witch-kin?” Issued the voice from the helmet, then the figure straightened up and Mendor saw the free hand reach for him and felt the grip on the back of his neck, pulling him easily off his feet, “Worry not. We will keep you company. We can discuss the location of your webway gates.” AAll of the Basilisks most significant actions have either been ship to ship boarding maneuvers, or targeted at planetside orbital defenses, usually aimed at creating a beachhead for other Imperial forces. The Basilisks don’t wait for support, and the forces these beacheads are intended for are usually days or even weeks behind. The Chapter has become adept at creating large, defensible groundside footholds, and loyalist forces descending on a world visited by the Basilisks will often find well stocked defenses waiting for them, though the Chapter itself is frequently gone by then. The Basilisks are extremely well suited to fighting in the cold confines of dying capital ships, as well as the shadow-pocked, rubble strewn, urban battlefields of hive worlds. Indeed, they seem to prefer such restrictive environments. On a larger scale, the fleet of the Basilisks feels like an omnipresent threat to enemies of the Chapter or the Imperium, for wherever there is one ship there are not only several more close at hand, but virtually half the fleet can redeploy to an engagement before within short order of the commencement of hostilities. In fleet engagements, their ships seek to close quickly to boarding distance, from multiple angles if possible, in order to disable and capture enemy vessels before they can react, after which said ships are usually used against the very planet or fleet they had defended. One favored tactic involves covertly introducing a paralytic nerve agent into an enemy vessel’s environmental systems, leaving entire crews helplessly at the Basilisk's mercy, which is, at best a quick shot to the head and at worst a one-way trip to the airlock. Basilisk attacks can be quick, or prolonged, according to the adaptability of the Codex and tactics inspired by the creature for which the Chapter is named. The initial strike of any Basilisk force is aimed at forcing the enemy to dig in, whether by pinning them with hails of ranged fire or holding them in place with bloody assaults. If this fails the strike force will fall back, regroup, and repeat the attempt until successful. As soon as the Basilisk force has ‘caught hold’ of the enemy, they move to surround them. Usually this is done by drop pod assault into the enemy’s rear rather than redeployment of ground forces, but fast moving tactical units have effectively fenced in target forces on many occasions. Once surrounded, the Basilisks either grind the foe into oblivion with steady and unrelenting fire, supported by assault units that flush out entrenched targets, or the Chapter may employ an orbital bombardment, destroying everything within their grip. If said grip should be broken, or the enemy can’t be held down long enough to surround, the Basilisk force will withdraw, usually to make an attempt from another angle. The Chapter does not move or fight with such fluidity on an open battleground, and their tactics are far less effective in pitched battle situations. At these times the Basilisks are more likely to break off the attack and seek to engage the enemy in an area more of their choosing, or to bleed them with endless hit-and-run attacks that drain the enemy of vitality each time. What few Scouts they employ are adepts of sabotage, especially using poisons. Where this proves ineffective, such as against the multi-filtered nervous and digestive system of other marines, more direct means are used, such as explosives. Sabotage like that is usually aimed at enemy ammunition supplies and armor. In more urgent situations, or especially if striking at a port or manufactorum, the enemy may be shelled using the same gaseous nerve agent employed in their boarding actions in an effort to minimize damage to salvageable assets. The tactic is often looked down on as cowardice by other Astartes, but the Basilisks are either oblivious to the stigma or simply don't care. Individually, most Basilisk marines favor close combat, and most of their extensive bionics are optimized for it. While the majority of these enhancements and prosthetics are still covered by armor, some Basilisks make frequent use of digital weapons and so sacrifice armor to better facilitate cooling. Veterans invariably possess the most bionic replacements. Organization Despite the size of its recruitment pool, it appears the Chapter has never grown far beyond six hundred marines in strength. Even so they have proved on multiple occasions to be willing to commit up to three hundred marines to an engagement without hesitation, and within a reasonably short space of time. These marines usually come from the three nearly full strength only Battle Companies, spaced roughly evenly throughout the fleet. Their remaining marines are distributed across six half sized Reserve Companies, usually lingering near the Monastery Barge. The Basilisks are, despite their numbers, fairly Codex adherent, with only a few variations in their naming conventions. The Chapter Master is known as the Serpent Lord, and no other power in the Chapter, individual or group, is equal to his. As in any other Astartes Chapter, he is indisputably the strongest marine among them, physically and mentally, perhaps even more so considering how long the Serpent Lords tend to live. At the turn of each generation thus far, caused each time by the death of the Master in battle, the Chapter disappears and is lost even to the unclosing eye of the Inquisition. When it next appears, usually not for decades, the Chapter is markedly weaker for a time. Twice they have fallen to less than two hundred marines. This too usually lasts a few decades. The cause for this decline is also a mystery. The current Chapter Master is Serpent Lord Sicariss, who has been the head of the Basilisks for well over three and a half centuries. The Basilisks have not looked favorably on the Ultima Founding. When they were called upon to augment their ranks with Primaris marines, they responded with silence, and seem to avoid joining with Primaris chapters on the battlefield. The Head Transfusion The doors to the Serpent Lord’s chambers sealed with a hiss, leaving the black and gilded casket sitting in the center of the darkened room. After several moments of silenced, a whirring and hum of power announced the activation of a pair of servitors recessed into a wall. One, some sort of surgical servitor, approached the casket, while the other, which appeared to be a Historitor, moved toward the bank of screens and monitors that dominated the wall across from the casket. Deft mechanical appendages keyed several panels, deactivating and reactivating several screens, and moving subtly hidden levers and switches. A few seconds later the wall split and opened, revealing an alcove, softly lit by the glow of the translucent screens still suspended in front of it. The light fell on a whispering, shifting form, a humanoid bound and connected to the wall behind it by cables and chains, all sallow skin and exposed circuitry. The historitor reached out to a plinth over which this hidden servitor was held, metal digits skittering across it. The sound of sparks and buzzing current came from the mess of cables and cords, and the figure twitched and jerked briefly, before its unintelligible burbles and whispers were replaced with a single, low hum, almost musical to hear. At this, the historitor settle back on mechanical haunches and quieted, waiting. Behind it, the surgical servitor had unsealed and opened the casket, and with drills, saws and scalpels was peeling back layers of skin, muscle and bone on the figure within. It worked methodically, ceaselessly, slowly extricating wires and circuitry from the now faceless cranium. Eventually, whether hours or days later, the continuous monotone of the hidden servitor pitched up for a moment and then went silent, at which the historitor stirred and straightened, eyes abnormally attentive. A rasping, modulated voice issued from the hanging form. “Report.” The response came from the historitor, but the voice and cadence was not that of a lobotomized servant. “Scitalis has expired on the battlefield of Pharsalia, my lord. The Basilisks are entering dormancy.” “The Chain Node?” The supposed historitor turned to look at the surgical servitor, which stood in active over the casket, a mesh of fine wires and organic components held in one claw. Turning back, the strange servant answered. “Intact.” “Well done, Li-Char. We will begin preparing potential successors,” the voice answered, “Rendezvous coordinates forthcoming. To the coming of the True Omnissiah.” “To the coming of the True Omnissiah.” Beliefs Volcanic Deathworld Cerregra The feed from the servo-skull was spotty, marred by static bursts and light flares from the lava below. A group of Astartes stood beside the molten river, several of them gesturing upstream, while one was kneeling by a device on the bank. Presently, they stood and trotted off further downstream. Moisei did not send the skull to follow immediately, but as the visual began to shudder, he realized he should have. The drone turned to see some sort of detonation erupt on the side of the ashmount, and the lava flow immediately swelled, doubling, and then tripling in size, until a veritable wave of lava was rolling down the mountainside. There was a heatbloom in the feed as the skull tried to escape, and then the connection was lost. Moisei sighed, pushing away from the monitor in frustration. What were they after on this hellscape, these supposed sons of the Gorgon? And how many servo-skulls was it going to take to find out. There appear to be two tiers to the belief system of the Basilisks. The first echoes the Iron Hands mantra of Purge the Weak, with a slightly more progressive approach: a doctrine known as Shed the Weak. According to the Basilisks, the transformation familiar to Iron Hands and their successors for millennia is a natural order of evolution prompted by the very first advent of technology. They believe that humanity may ‘grow into’ this changed and improved form over time, which progression is based on merit. The first thing shed by every Basilisk upon initiation is his given name, and after induction, the traditional right hand of Manus’ sons. From then on, augmentations and bionic replacements are earned. Should a marine suffer a wound or lose a limb on the battlefield without having proven his worth, he will not be saved except for his invaluable geneseed, and is considered as shed weakness. This much is known because the Basilisks have, in the past, allowed Imperial agents unrestricted access to their regular rites in an attempt to dissuade Inquisitorial attention, and these rites clearly suggest another level of doctrine among the Basilisks. This other ‘tier’ of beliefs is repeatedly mentioned during regular rites, in the oratories of their Chaplains. What this second tier is exactly is unknown to any but the brothers of the Chapter, and is referred to simply as The Quest. Every marine seems to be aware of its meaning since both Initiates and Veterans are present when the Chaplains are relaying its urgency and significance, and all those who are present respond with equal fervor. This suggests that the knowledge is planted along with the 19 organs, during hypnotherapy, and this process has always been strictly prohibited from outside view. The truth of The Quest is surprisingly simple, something of an evolution of a belief common among the Gorgon’s sons, that one day the Primarch may return. The Basilisks don’t espouse this exact belief, but rather they believe that the bearers of the Iron Hands legacy must become as their Primarch, believing that to do so requires not only mastery of the mechanical, but the literal hands of Ferrus Manus. The Quest, in essence, is a search for the spawn of Asirnoth, which the Basilisks are convinced exists somewhere in the galaxy, and can grant them the power of the Primarch, or in other words, return His power to the Imperium. Where this belief originated is unclear, but it accounts for the haste with which they answer any call from a world with remotely volcanic activity, which has been the only pattern ever detected in their fleet movements. Though he has little to no support among other Inquisitors, Moisei has long investigated the Basilisks because of these strange beliefs coupled with rumors of the Basilisks attacking and destroying young Chapters under the banner of perceived Chaos influence, only to claim the remaining fleet assets for their Quest. The most substantiated occasion involved a newly gathered Ork invasion which sprung up in the Heltoez system, only a subsector from the volcanic homeworld of the young Ash Eagles Chapter. Though the Greenskin invasion saw to it that surviving records were scarce, sources suggested that when the Basilisks ‘answered’ the call for help, their ships orbited the planet, guns and launch bays still, for two and a half weeks while the Ash Eagles scoured wave after wave of Greenskin hordes, and were ultimately ground down to less than half a company. After the Basilisks joined battle, the conflict was decisively ended, but the Eagles were lost while the Basilisks left with all the fledgling Chapter’s fleet elements. For Moisei, the mere possibility that this transpired is more than enough evidence that the Chapter has turned from the Emperor’s light, while others, who he derides as ‘charmed by the snake’ question how or why the Eagles wouldn’t have conveyed such damning evidence of treachery to anyone. The appearance of the Cicatrix Maledictum seems to have fueled the urgency of the Basilisk’s quest, and they now traverse the Dark Imperium erratically, smashing aside resistance of any form as they scour sector after sector for clues to the location of Asirnoth’s kin. New rumors have risen about the Imperial costs of the Basilisk’s campaign; supplies and materiel that has been more raided than commandeered, PDFs abandoned in the middle of battle with chaos forces, and worse. Gene-seed The genetic material of the Basilisks is severely mutated, the cause of their thin numbers and low rate of implantation success. Extensive genetic manipulation during the gene-seed’s growth would have been required to arrive at the functionality of an average Basilisk marine, and the fact that they display any genetic stability at all is a testament to Mechanicus handiwork and not the simple passage of time. For any other founding of marines, this would be great cause for alarm, but among the marines of the Cursed Founding, signs of deliberate mutation among essential Space Marine organs is more the rule than the exception. The first significant change is in the Occulobe. Basilisks do not have the hypersensitive eye-sight of other Adeptus Astartes, nor can they see as clearly at range. However, Basilisk marines can make use of frighteningly accurate vision on the thermal spectrum without the use of a filter of any kind, making them especially lethal urban hunters. Their second mutation is of the Neuroglittis which has been so overcharged that a marine need only open his mouth to taste what is before him. With chemical injector augmentations, usually one of the first received by most Basilisks, the Neuroglittis can be used to track scents at an alarming distance, when eyes might fail. The final mutation is of the Mucranoid, which produces a thicker, tougher than usual covering, allowing marines to last longer than usual in the vacuum, as well as decreasing the effects of harsh elements. Basilisk marines customarily force the Mucranoid covering to form after each augmentation, only removing it to replace a broken layer, or at the time of the next shedding. The layer formed is almost completely covering, and requires the placing of a rebreather as well as spacers and seals over the eyes and ears, though these are fairly simple to integrate. Such advanced mutation would attract Mechanicus attention were it not for the campaign of carefully spread rumors by Chapter serfs, exaggerating the staggeringly low success rate of implantation, the weakened Occulobe and insinuating a completely absent Neuroglittis. Once perpetuated, these rumors left the Adeptus Mechanicus with little interest in digging deeper, content to simply receive the Chapter’s tithe. The misinformation has not, however, dissuaded the Basilisk’s “resident” Inquisitor. There is no official knowledge of any further mutation among the Basilisks, despite the ample opportunities to study them, as their fallen marines are so frequently left on the battlefield. Even those suitable for dreadnought interment are rarely saved. The damning truth is that the Basilisks are far more genetically unstable, only very skilled at hiding it. The Chapter’s progenoids mature normally enough, and so tithes of it have not betrayed them yet. Pinning down the source of the mutation has proved impossible, but in most cases the full complement of organs together causes aspirants to grow well beyond standard Astartes size, turning them into voracious and cannibalistic predators. The engineered enhancements appearing in normal Basilisk marines are greatly intensified in these monsters, giving them hides which have been seen stopping bolter rounds, and supernal hunting senses. If the Chapter were ever forced to subject to true Inquisitorial investigation, discovery would be likely be immediate. In an effort to cull these aberrations, one ship out of the fleet is designated for the implantation process. Fortifying the medbay into a bunker, and equipped with a trap door, each aspirant that succumbs to the mutation is dropped into a lower chamber and released into the ship. It is this same vessel where recruits face their trials: to outhunt and destroy these nameless beasts. Survivors learn what it really is that they defeated after successfully receiving the last organ, and from then on are sworn to silence. Battle-cry The Basilisks offer no call or outwardly audible sound at all when in battle .
  7. Imperfect Perfection: INDEX TRAITORIS - White Talons White Talon Colour Scheme " Mercy? I do not let you live out of some foolish notion such as mercy! No, I do it so you know and will let other know that we were better then you. That I was better. Now run, weakling. Let them know that the White Talon Legion is here and that there is no hope!" Jhericas Varhn, Legate of the 3rd Cohort - White Talons. Origin Founded during the Nineteenth Founding of the Adeptus Astartes the White Talons were created to guard over the region of space known as St Andwyn's Scar. The Scar was an area of space known for its vast mineral wealthy and as such constantly attracted all manner of xenos, raiders and other detritus of the galaxy, as well as being prone to rebellion and sedition. It was also hugely valuable to the Imperium for the self same reasons. Such a rich but hugely under threat region was deemed worthy of the protection of an astartes chapter and so the White Talons were born. Forged from the geneseed of Rogal Dorn they were tasked with securing The Scar and set off. It was a task they set to with all the stubborn pragmatism and stubbornness associated with their primogenitor. St Andwyn's Scar was to prove no easy conquest. Long had it been all but abandoned by the Imperium and any number of heretical despots, orkoid war bands and xenos pirates had taken over. But its conquest was a task the White Talons set to with a grim abandon. But despite their strength and skill they could never stay in control of the region for long. No sooner would they quash the latest rebellion then a new orkish warband would attack or a rogue trader would petition for aid as his vessels were being attacked. It is, perhaps, testament to the warrior cult of the White Talons that not only did they meet these threats but it was uncommon for them not to also have forces out in the Imperium at large. Despite this, however, they were no fool. Time and time again the Chapter only just managed to hold on, stretched to their very limits, and in response the Chapter Master's would send a request for aid to the High Lords or Segmentum Command. The Chapter was woefully under resourced as their tireless making of war saw vital machinery and equipment destroyed or damaged beyond repair. It was a long war of attrition that, without aid, the Chapter was going to loose. Time and time again the Chapter's requests were denied or, worse still, met with nothing more then stoney silence. Aid was not coming. Still, true to the testament of their Primarch, the White Talons would not back down. If they were to die then they would go out fighting for the duty they had been set. This state of affairs would come to a head in the early years of M.41. Pollonius Verro, a high ranking member of the Adeptus Administratum as well as personal friend to the Master of the Administratum, found himself grounded on the world of Ilo in the Scar, directly in the path of an Ork WAAAGH! His death, and the death of all on Ilo, seemed assured until the arrival of the White Talons. Deploying in almost Chapter strength they met the WAAAGH! head on. It was a grueling battle, and one the Talon's nearly lost, but in the end their tenacity proved itself and the orks were destroyed. Pollonius, witnessing how under supplied the Chapter was and grateful for the aid, promised aid and support to the beleaguered defenders of the Scar. It seemed as though the White Talons may have been saved. Pollonius left and things seemed to go back to usual in the Scar. Nothing was heard from the High Lords and the Chapter returned to its duty, slowly replenishing its numbers. When all hope had been all but lost for the promised aid word arrived of a great convoy enroute from Segmentum command. Jubilation soon turned to bitter disappointment, however, when the nature of the promised aid arrived. This was no shipment of weaponry or arms from the forges of Mars but rather a whole new Chapter, formed in the most recent founding, to help pacify the Scar. To make matter worse this new Chapter, The Warborne, had been equipped with a vast surplus of the greatest and best equipment that could be afforded. Worse still Pollonius himself led the convoy and, upon arriving in the Scar, declared the newly founded Warborne as the stewards of St. Andwyn's Scar and that the White Talons could rest, now that this new Chapter could achieve their duty for them. Such a slight on the honour of the White Talons was not overlooked easily. Forced to fight on with depleted and obsolete weaponry and machines the White Talons began to obsess over proving themselves the better warriors. They had long held the Scar and they were not about to be shown up by a newly minted Chapter, particularly one of the geneseed of the Ultramarines. When the two Chapter's were forced to fight alongside each other the White Talons would go out of their way to prove themselves the better, even going so far as to have laud hailers playing on repeat over loyal cities promoting the Talons whilst, at the same time, surreptitiously casting slander on the Warborne. The Warborne in turn ignored such slights, instead choosing the path of words over actions. Finally, on the world of Atium, the resentment nearly cost the Imperium a victory when the White Talons intentionally fed false information to the Warborne commanders, leaving them exposed and far from the conflict, whilst the White Talons struck at the heart of the enemy. The glory hungry Talons, however, found themselves outmatched and it was only after the commitment and subsequent decimation of several regiments of the Imperial Guard that the enemy was broken and victory assured. The actions of the White Talons didn't go unnoticed, however, as agents of the Inquisition happened to be on Ilos. The Talons were called to answer for their reckless actions and, facing Imperial censure, returned to their homeworld having been sworn to longer compete with the Warborne. It was not a punishment taken lightly. Swearing that if the Imperium would not help them then they would help themselves Chapter Master Tyrios declared waht would become known as the White Legion Protocol. Renaming themselves the White Talon Legion the White Talons began to recruit far beyond the number proscribed by the Codex, training and outfitting new marines in secret. Demanding tithes from the worlds of the Scar under their protection they kept their companies, renamed cohorts, seperate so as to disguise their number. Tyrios made to ensure that their would be no need to try to prove themselves greater then the new blooded Warborne if he ensured that his Chapter was more then capable to performing their duty. Soon fully a third of the worlds of Saint Andwyn's Scar were sworn to compliance and tithe to the Talons, their rulers being either watched or completely replaced by agents of the Chapter. The White Talons had established themselves not as wardens of the Scar but rather rulers. Whilst outwardly loyal to the Imperium and humanity it is rumoured that it is during this time that the perfidious influences of Chaos began to creep in to Chapter command. Others believe that the Chapter as a whole was actually free from dark influence until after their fall. This sudden attempt to fully control the Scar didn't go unnoticed by their fellow Chapter set to guard the region. Attempting to avoid conflict the Chapter Master of the Warborne, Leonides, met with an honour guard with Chapter Master Tyrios on the Talon's homeworld. What exactly transpired in the meetings that followed are unknown beyond the two masters and their honour guards. Neither side seemed to be able to reach an agreement. The cause of following events aren't entirely clear but at some point slight was taken by one of the White Talons honour guard, Lycarus, the Chapter Champion and he subsequently challenged Chapter Master Leonides to a duel. It was a duel the Warborne Chapter Master couldn't deny and the two met in combat. Although supposed to only be a duel to first blood it would result in Leonides slain by Lycarus' hand and in the following chaos the Warborne delegation was slain, with only one managing to escape to return to his Chapter, claiming that Leonides was murdered. The Warborne were enraged, launching an attack on the White Talons. This move would prove their undoing, however, as not only were the White Talons a much more experienced Chapter they now had the advantage of far greater numbers. The Warborne soon found themselves on the defensive and were rapidly pushed back to their own homeworld. As the decimated Chapter looked to the skies as the White Talon ships drew in around the world the war would turn in against the Talons. It is perhaps a testament to just how much the Imperium had learned from the fall of the Astral Claws how hard the hammer blow would fall on the Talons. Hearing of the conflict the High Lords sent a crusade to stop the White Talons in their tracks consisting of not only vast numbers of the Imperial Guard and Knights but also a mission of the Adepta Sororitas and forces of no less then four fellow astartes Chapters. This would not be a second Badab War. Relieving the beleaguered Warborne the combined forces begun a systematic assault against the White Talons. Despite their enhanced number the White Talons could do little against the crusade and soon the Imperial Fleet drew in around the Chapter's homeworld. No offer of quarter or surrender was given as a barrage from the ships in orbit blasted apart the Talon's Librarium before the ground invasion begun. The Battle of the Eyrie would be a long drawn out conflict but one that would eventually lead to an Imperial victory. What remained on the White Talons fled into space as Chapter Master Tyrios met his end at the hand of the Iron Herald Chapter Master Seric Desarro and proof of his corruption was revealed. Despite the best efforts of loyal forces a great many of the White Talons were able to escape into space from the many worlds under their command. The White Talons were defeated and broken, but not destroyed. Rumours have since grown of a new figure having risen to reunite the shattered remnants of the White Talons. These forces, having long fled from humanities light, have long succumbed to the influences of the ruinous powers. This new figure, rumoured to be Lycarus but only going by the name the Cowled Prince, is seeking to reforge the White Talon Legion. He has started to scour the galaxy to reform what was lost. The scourge of the White Talons is long from gone. Organisation - Highly organised for traitor, - Still follow warped version of the Codex. - Have "Cohorts" that are tasked by current leader - Still semi mercenary but all in a mission to prove themselves superior and to push themselves to perfection Beliefs - Obsessed with being "Perfect warriors" Combat Doctrines - Large number of cultists and Slaneesh daemons - Otherwise very codex. Geneseed - Maintain Apothecarium (of sorts) Symbol But the claw is white
  8. He is the son of a Primarch, though he knows not which. The gene-seed which made him what he is now came from a battlefield on which his masters fought a warband of Blackshields. The Apothecaries who tended to his batch of inductees could not discern any particular gene-markers on the resources they claimed, and the wargear of the fallen enemy yielded no clues. He does not know enough to ask this question. The education and hypno-induced flood of information Astartes traditionally received has been curtailed with rapid implantation and the needs of war. Need-to-know for what they call the Newborn has well-defined limits. The closest he has had to an answer came from one of the few times a pure-blood Legionary deemed him worthy of attention. A captain with the Warmaster’s face - pure-blood twice over, a “true son” - approached him in the aftermath of a battle. A power fist had locked around his chin, and the Son of Horus had inspected his face curiously. “Medusan, perhaps,” the warrior murmured, and moved on. He is the son of a man and a woman, and beyond that all he knows is that they screamed when their hab-unit was torn open and soldiers came to take him away. He has learned since that the soldiers were Solar Auxilia, designated Cthonian Jackals. The memory of his past life is gone, as if the early chapters of a book were torn out. More clearly, he remembers the children that his new masters made him kill. Other boys of his age. Once rounded up, they were set upon one another; the Sons of Horus keeping careful count of which were still alive. He recalls gouging another boy’s eyes out, and using the still-screaming youth’s head as a bludgeon on another. His masters marked him as promising for that. When the requisite number was reached, the survivors were rigged up to the torture machines which masqueraded as medical apparatus. He knows not for how long, though he recalls the businesslike way in which the corpses of failed inductees were pulled from the rigs and others put in their places. There is a hierarchy among the Astartes who serve the Warmaster, many-tiered. That, he understands well. The veterans get the best; the Iron and Maximus patterns, with some of the crow-faced design that they call Corvus. The Newborn among the pure-bloods claim surplus suits of those patterns when they can, but mostly make do with more primitive Mk II and their own take on the more replaceable and cross-compatible forms which will one day be grouped under the banner of the “Heresy pattern”. He wears the latter, augmented with pieces claimed from fallen foes. The only way a Blackshield like him, especially a Chymera, attains superior gear without very great favour from his masters is to take it from the dead. Even then it is done at the sufferance of his masters. If a pure-blood officer demands a component or weapon, it is yielded up. He is loyal to the Warmaster, fanatically so. It has been burned into him, as with all the Newborn. Hypno-indoctrination of an intensity never seen during the Crusade is now commonplace, etching zeal into the minds of the new Space Marines. In a way, they are purer than their comrades ever were. They have never served the Emperor, never raised a blade in the name of His Crusade of lies, never once drawn alien blood. His loyalty, ultimately, is to the Warmaster alone. No other Primarch has any hold over him. He is commanded by a Blackshield warlord named Veneloc Jaqar, who answers in turn to Jerrod of the Sons of Horus’ 13th Company. But there is no Primarch above him beyond that. The chain of command leads straight to Lupercal himself. In a sense, the Warmaster might be considered his father. A strange sort of adoptive father, or perhaps one who attends to his baseborn bastards whilst never letting them imagine they can stand level with those who bear his name. He has never looked upon a Primarch. He hopes he might. Some part of him hopes that one day he will look upon a Primarch and know his kin. The merest ghost of fear whispers that when that day comes, it will be a foe of the Warmaster. He will find himself face to face with Dorn, Guilliman or the Lion, and son shall slay father or, more likely, the father will kill a child he never knew was his. He knows the chance is slim, tied as it is to his chances of survival. Terra looms somewhere on the horizon, the girded expanse of Sol rings it, and even before that there is Beta-Garmon barring the way to the Throneworld. Still, he will do all that is in his power to see it. The Blackshield, son of no one, who never knew Terra as anything but the objective, will see it. He will fight in the shadow of the Palace. And in that shadow, he will face the one they call Sigismund and in the Templar he will find his end as so many have. Impaled on the Black Sword, spluttering oaths in the language of the hollow world he never knew, the Blackshield will be ended. But as with so much else in his stunted demigodhood, he does not know this.
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