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So, I actually listened to other forum members and built, what I think is a pretty decent list. The army list is built around the 7th Blade, The Sundered, a Green Templars Crusade Fleet which was almost destroyed by the Ork Kaptain Toofsnatcha. In return for repairs and resupply, Acting-Castellan Mateo Rojas has sworn an Oath to assist Vulkan He'stan on his quest to find the missing relics of the Primarch. My battleplans follow the list. The Sundered - The 7th Blade 2000 / 2000 pts Battle Size: Strike Force (2000 Point limit) Detachment: Forgefather's Seekers Epic Hero 100 pts Vulkan He'stan 100 pts Warlord Character 255 pts Apothecary Biologis 85 pts Forged in Battle Judiciar 95 pts War‑tempered Artifice Librarian 75 pts Immolator Battleline 80 pts 5 Intercessor Squad 80 pts • 1x Intercessor Sergeant: Hand Flamer, Power Fist • 4x Intercessor: Bolt Rifle Infantry 815 pts 6 Bladeguard Veteran Squad 170 pts • 1x Bladeguard Veteran Sergeant: Neo‑volkite Pistol • 5x Bladeguard Veterans 4 Company Heroes 105 pts 6 Eradicator Squad 180 pts • 4x Eradicator • 1x Eradicator with Multi‑melta 5 Infernus Squad 90 pts • 4x Infernus Marines 5 Infernus Squad 90 pts • 4x Infernus Marines 10 Infernus Squad 180 pts • 9x Infernus Marines Vehicle 520 pts Land Raider Redeemer 270 pts Hunter‑killer missile, Multi‑melta, Storm Bolter Storm Speeder Hammerstrike 125 pts Storm Speeder Hammerstrike 125 pts Dedicated Transport 230 pts Drop Pod 70 pts Impulsor 80 pts Shield Dome, 2 Storm Bolters Impulsor 80 pts Shield Dome, 2 Storm Bolters This list builds around a few simple combos, namely 10 Infernus marines lead by a Librarian with Immolator that mount up in a drop pod, Vulkan and the Company Heroes to brawl in the midfield, and the anti tank punch of the Hammerstrikes and Eradicators. Vulkan’s wound reroll can be utilized effectively by almost the whole army and allows you to absolutely crush any target whether it’s a block of infantry or a Knight. The two Hammerstrikes give them early range threats that can gang up on a single target or split up as needed with the speed to apply meltas basically wherever they’re needed. Vulkan and his Company Heroes along with the Judicar and the Bladeguard Veteran Squad post up on an objective and demand your opponent commit heavily. The Infernus Marines with Librarian drop in, roast something, then threaten to do it again with Overwatch while the Eradicators with Biologis can either go in the Redeemer or come in from reserves as needed. The Judicar and the 6 Bladeguard support Vulkan He'stan and his Company Heroes in the center of the table, while the 2 Impulsor units filled with 5 Infernus Marines provide drive-by support, and act as a QRF, reacting to threats as they come. What do you think?

They are the Green Templar: hunters of forbidden relics, executioners of knowledge, and the hammer that keeps the Dark Age of Technology buried forever. Successors of the Salamanders, they strike where the Imperium dares not tread, leaving nothing alive that could betray what they hunt. FINAL COGITATOR ENTRY OF CAPTAIN SÉBASTIEN YORKE: They came aboard without ceremony. No warning chime. No challenge from the augur decks. One moment the Gloria Invictus drifted on idle in Imperial voidspace, her holds full and her ledgers clean. The next, the boarding alarms screamed like dying things. Green armor. Not Salamanders green—colder, somehow. Bone-white pauldrons marked with a templar cross. Two chapters merged into one impossible purpose. I could only guess who these Green Templar really were. I invoked my Warrant. “I am a Rogue Trader—Sébastien Yorke—of the Imperium,” I said, forcing steel into my voice. “By the authority of the High Lords of Terra—” They did not answer. They advanced, deck by deck, methodical, unhurried. Not butchers. Not raiders. Auditors. Sealing bulkheads, marking crates, tagging cogitator cores with red sigils that pulsed once and went dark. My armsmen fired. Some died screaming in fire that clung to flesh and armor alike. Others vanished under bolter fire so precise it felt personal. No warnings. No demands. Only collection. They found the vaults. I followed them, flanked by my Seneschal and what remained of my honor guard, shouting words like talismans: Warrant. Sanction. Cold Trade. I told them the artifacts were catalogued, secured, studied under Mechanicus charter. I told them I had saved worlds with the technologies they now sealed away. A warrior turned toward me. His helm lenses burned like coals. “You have saved nothing,” he said. That was the only sentence any of them spoke. They brought the seized relics to the docking bay—xenos engines wrapped in null-shrouds, crystalline cogitators older than the Imperium, weapons that hummed with sleeping suns. My life’s work. My legacy. And then Vulkan He’stan arrived. I recognized him at once. You don’t trade the stars for three centuries without learning the faces of legends. The Forgefather walked among my cargo in silence, the Primarch's Spear mag-locked at his side, his gauntlet brushing dust from devices that had cost me entire systems to acquire. Hope flared in my chest. Fool that I was. “Lord,” I said. “You see—this is sanctioned. This is lawful. This knowledge—” He stopped before a device I had never dared activate. He studied it for a long moment. Then he shook his head. Just once. No condemnation. No command. He turned and left my ship. I understood. The Green Templar waited until his vessel cleared the hangar before they began the purge. They did not destroy the artifacts first. They destroyed the records. My ledgers burned. My cogitator banks were slagged. Servitors dismantled into wet meat and scrap. I was seized, restrained, pulse-bound—not by mercy, but by necessity. The Apothecary moved among the wounded, scanning every survivor, preparing his tools. He would ensure no trace of forbidden knowledge survived. When he finally approached, I would've sworn I saw the disgust through his helmet as he recognized what was buried within me—the source of my long life. For the briefest of moments he studied it—buried, ancient, alien. The narthecium unfolded. Pressure. Heat. A wet shock. Gone. Four hundred years collapsed in seconds. The Apothecary crushed it in his gauntlet. Strength drained. Vision dimmed. The last thing I saw: green armor moving past me, methodical, unconcerned, as the charges finished counting down on the remaining vaults. I had thought the technology kept me alive. I was wrong. It only postponed the moment I became unacceptable. ☆☆☆ PERSONAL LOG: SEREN KORRAN, SALAMANDERS STORMRAVEN PILOT — DAY 47, ALPHA RIM PATROL I did not look at the ship as it burned. Hands steady on the Stormraven controls, the engine hum drowned out the void-detonations behind us. Auspex returns flared and died as Sébastien Yorke’s vessel came apart, compartment by compartment, exactly as planned. The Forgefather stood behind me, silent. I knew—everyone in the forge-clans knew—that he despised the Green Templar. Not for zeal, but for certainty. They were a tool he would never claim, only point toward the rim and loose like a blade. Because they were the best. No one hunted forbidden tech more thoroughly. No one left questions. I had seen the cargo. Xenos engines bound in prayer-chains. Devices whose light bent the air. Knowledge that could have fed worlds, healed atmospheres, ended wars I had already fought. Vulkan He’stan inspected only what he must. Human craft. Provenance traced. Lineage confirmed. Anything born of alien thought he did not touch. Anything that might have helped all mankind—destroyed. That was the limit of his mercy. The Promethean Creed teaches fire tempers. That what survives is stronger. I had repeated those words a thousand times on Nocturne. But there was no tempering here. Only selection. Only annihilation. As we cleared the blast radius, the ship’s death registered on my displays. A brief flare. Wreckage scattered. Then nothing. No life signs. No records. I said nothing. That is my shame. The Forgefather remained silent behind me, a presence like cooled steel. He had done what he could. The rest, he left to monsters. ☆☆☆ AFTER-ACTION RECORD: GT-RIM-4471 Subject: Void-vessel Gloria Invictus — Cold Trade contamination confirmed. Disposition: All artifacts, records, and biological carriers purged. Vessel expunged. No recoverable legacy remains. ☆☆☆ Somewhere in the void, as my life faded and the Green Templar disappeared into the dark, I thought I heard a whisper of my name—but no one would ever speak it again.