Loyalists' Strategium

[MikhalLeNoir]

Yeah, like killing of the Quarith

[simison]

[This scene popped into my head during my last guard shift.]

 

Seeing through the 'eyes' of the mighty Imperator titan filled its princeps with a sense of indestructibility. He towered above all, including his fellow titans of Legio Mortis. Ahead of them lay Magma City, home to Adept Koriel Zeth. She had refused reason and sided with the Emperor. Legio Mortis was to put an end to that mistake. Already, the Warhound titans were beginning their attacks, while the rest of the legio had void shields raised and weapons powered. Victory would soon be theirs. 

 

The Princeps vision of glory died as an alien will smothered his mind. The Master of Aquila Ignis struggled and fought the being invading his thoughts, but it was too strong. He managed to turn his sight to the titan's bridge cameras. He had to warn the others of this unseen attack. To his surprise, his moderati were rooted to their seats, twitching. The rest of the crew was unaware. Desperate, the Princeps called to the spirit of Ignis, hoping it's raw power would free him. He felt the clash as the Imperator's rage slammed into the malicious will. For a moment, the Princeps could feel the invader falter. 

 

Then it called on its own rage and broke the titan's spirit with its own. 

 

Control now entirely in the invader's hands, commands were issued. The Princeps was a puppet as he aimed the plasma annihilator and the hellstorm cannon targeted an unsuspecting Warlord titan, his moderati unwillingly supporting him. His brothers who had noticed were now flooding the communication channels as they sought an answer to Ignis' forced actions. 

 

The Princeps screamed within his own trapped mind and finally demanded, What are you!?

 

The invader answered in a 'voice' laced with wrath and disgust. 

 

I am the Warmaster.

 

Fire.

[Chief Captain Redd]

The Weyl noospheric transmission couldn't have been any clearer, Daer'dd was furious.

"Damon, a number of my brothers have become bastards, they march against The Emperor, Terra, and the Imperium itself. Kelbor Hal has taken their side. Head to the Sol System, I'm not sure how dire it is there yet. Try to reason with Hal, if he is lost, help Alexandros, defend Terra, but if you can, burn the traitorous blood of Mars to ash. Lord Chief, The Iron King Ro'bear Damon Redd, my Master Slayer, I am oath binding you. Not to one target, no, do not rest till every traitor lacks a skull. You have some of our most powerful weapons and allies at your command, do not show mercy, burn them all from history itself. I go to break my brothers personally, may lady Huron give you strength"

 

I sat in the throne of the Leviathan giving the news calmly, we went to war. Terra needed reenforcement and we would go without pause.

I feared I'd have to have my most loyal Totem Guard and Ironbound seek out and execute traitors in our home.

My forces were strong, a fleet with dozens of grand cruisers, Demiurge and Mechanicum forge ships, massive Titan legios transports, Knight Households, Huronian Imperial Army Regiments, Shield Maidens. But still we'd be facing Astartes legions and false gods.

 

My second heart stopped for just a second.

[Sigismund229]

Legionairy Willym of the Stygian Jackals swept his gaze over the forest clearing. He'd never understood the Crimson Lions reputation for savagery. Yes, they were taller and stronger than astartes from other legions. Yet he'd never thought them to be an especially savage legion. The Berzerkers of Uran and even many Stygian Jackals were more savage than the Crimson Lions. His suspicions that their reputation was overblown had been confirmed a few hours earlier when the Stygian Jackals had opened fire on the III. The XVIII's casualties had been minimal while the III had been slaughtered, almost to a man. They had hardly even fired back, hadn't even charged. Willym sneered at the memory. So much for being the fiercest close combat fighters amongst the legions.

 

As this thought crossed Willym's mind, a roar came from inside the forest and soon after, at least fifty Crimson Lions came charging out, each one armed with a breacher shield and chainblade. As they sprinted forwards, Willym fired his bolter at them, downing at least one as he drew his combat knife. However, when one of them came into close combat with him, Willym didn't even have a chance to make a strike. He was simply smashed aside by the space marine, who had put all his weight behind his shield and had simply come at Willym like a bull. As Willym got up, he saw several runes flashing, indicating he had multiple broken bones. Then, as soon as he had righted himself, he was smashed aside again, this time breaking several cheekbones. Then, as he attempted to get up, he felt a hand smash into his throat, breaking skin and ripping out his windpipe. As he saw the Crimson Lions standing over him, his windpipe clutched in the Lions fist he remembered something a Crimson Lion had said to him once. "If you don't kill a Crimson Lion before he knows he's your enemy, the question is not can you win. The question is how much longer do you have left to live?".

[Slips]

We had never seen our Lord so Enraged.

 

He always wore a Cold, Neutral and Unfeeling Mask when dealing with matters of War and Politics. During Down Time, he was very much the Proud Father, Always Bright and Upbeat, the Warm Waves Lapping on the Shore of a Sunny Beach.

 

But Today, Today he was the Raging Storm. His Iris' had changed to a Black-Blue and his Hair had Visibly Darkened from its Normally Seafoam Grey to a Stormy Grey-Black. Though his mask did not break, though he did not have a Tantrum, Fly into a Rage or Strike out at anyone, it was clear to all those Present on the Bridge just how incensed he was. Even the Prima Medica dared not Approach our Liege and all  the First Captain could do was stare on uncharacteristic nervousness.

 

After the Astropath Had delivered the Message Of Treason, the whole Bridge turned to him and fell into a deathly silence, seeing his countenance. As the silence dragged on, a creaking emanating from his command throne could be heard, the sound of distressed metal. Quickly followed by cracking and popping. In his cold fury and barely contained rage, our Liege Lord, Pionus, was Crushing the Armrests of his Masterfully Crafted Adamantine Command Throne with his bare hands.

 

All he did was Stare out into the Infinite Void Of Space.

 

And suddenly, he stood up, causing all those assembled, even the Astartes, to flinch but still, the uneasy silence remained, only the occasional noises from the bridge consoles confirming that time had not stopped. He took Five Steps Forward and Leaned on the Railing overlooking the Holopojected Galactic Map and it too began to bend and compress. Looking to the map for a few drawn out breaths, he then slowly turned his head to the right, those caught in his gaze unable to maintain direct eye contact and spoke the only words those assembled would hear from him for the rest of the day:

 

"First Captain. Assemble the Legion. Full Strength." he announced through clenched teeth. He then Promptly turned and left the Bridge, The Prima Medica following in his wake at a further-than-respectful distance.

 

And Lo did the we of the Scions Hospitalier go to war against their misguided brothers.

[Praefectus Invictus]

Oh yeah, now the Jackals are stronger and taller than the rest! Liking the fluff Sigismund.

 

Now, the companion peice  :

 

Handler Azuz looked up as he heard a strangled grunt. Willym had just fallen, pulverised by a countercharge from the isolated remnants of the Crimson Lions 4th Breacher Arm. He redirected his Devils, Tooth and Claw, from their kill, and voxed to Krion and Terdas's tactical squads, as well as Swordhunter Ardyo. A deafening salvo of bolter fire ripped through the Lion's shield's, felling a half dozen space marines. But they were also being subjected to brutal fire. Claw suffered multiple glancing blows, howling as blood oozed from his back. Without command, the Devils bolted towards the shields, settling amongst the Lions and ripping off arms and throats. But even the mighty Devils were pushed back, loping off into the shadows as blades scored deep cuts in their fur. Azuz followed them, lurking among the trees, using Fugite calls to beckon them back to his side. Looking out to the open space, he saw that 20 odd breachers and two almost full strength tactical squads were embroiled in close combat, blades, claws and bolters flashing. "Tooth, Claw, let us rejoin the melee" Whispered Azuz, grinning inside his helm.

 

+==+

 

Pack Sergeant Krion was brawling with a particularly annoying Crimson Lion. The bastard just wouldn't die. Krion had chopped off several important appendages, including both hands, but his shield was mag-locked to his arm, and he just couldn't get past it. Grunting, he backed off, pulling his combat blade out and holding it with his power sword. Moving in for the kill again, he could just imagine the stricken Lion's eyes as the two viciously carved blades came down with renewed vigour, this time finding the gap between shield and armour, and thick blood squirted out of the severed artery in his neck. As he choked on blood, the legionary tried to speak once more, gurgling the same words over and over again. Krion leaned in to hear. "How much longer do you think you have to live, Brother?"  

 

"Longer than you" Krion said, wrenching the legionaries head off with a twist, and throwing it at the nearest Crimson Lion.

 

Laughing, he dived headfirst into battle with the bewildered legionary. His power sword cut him down like chaff, two halves of power armour falling to the ground with a thud. But then another blur slammed into him.

 

Thrown to the ground, Krion braced his head in his arms, silently bearing the pain from the shield which was being repeatedly being slammed into him. Despite this, his arms were broken to the point where he would need to spend a week in the apothecarion if he came out alive.Preparing for death, he let his arms fall uselessly to the ground. As the shadow loomed above him, a rippling wall of fur and muscle slammed into him, launching him off his feet. The Devil ripped the throat from the Lion, and turned towards Krion, yellow eyes glinting. "Hello brother" whispered Azuz as he walked past "i see you had that under control". With relief in his chest, Krion struggled to stand, ignoring the jest and instead surveying the area. The Lion's were scattered, falling back with good order despite the pursuing Jackals ferocity. Over the public vox channel, he shouted one last warning at the Lions: "The Lion may kill us instantly if we leave him down but not out, but the  Jackals will make you bleed from a thousand cuts, until you fall down dead, drained of blood and in constant agony. A few Lions may roar, but a thousand Jackals will howl. Remember that, for it we will haunt you to your dying days."

 

+==+

[Sigismund229]

Well actually I was referring to the Crimson Lions being taller and stronger than space marines from other legions(due to a small mutation in their gene seed) :D

I like the fluff Invictus! It seems not many space marines will be walking away from this fight

[MikhalLeNoir]

But the wardens were envisioned taller, stronger, smarter and especially cuter than the other legions. I mean they wear gold. They must be better cause they bling!!!

[Praefectus Invictus]

Oh, okay. I'm fine with that, I pictured the Jackals as having more lithe and agile legionaries, smaller in comparison to the average legionary, or even thunder warrior to some degree.

[AlphariusOmegon108]

The eagle warriors are shorter but more bulky. So their speed comes from technology, but their strength from genetics

[Skalpynock]

The bridge of the Ala Lux was tumultuous. Outrage, skepticism, rumors of treachery and betrayal. I didn't want to partake in these conversations. We had been summoned here for a reason, not to bicker about allegations of legions turning away from the Emperor's light. We were eight thousands, mostly clad in Mark II plate, consequence of our distance from any forge-world; all ordered to be battle ready and regroup here. I looked around me: few helmets, the unruly beards of the Coabanite mainlanders, the  braided hair of those hailing from the Helpos sea-tribes, and the occasional dark-skinned Terran.

Then the doors of the helm opened, and out came our sire. Yucahu, in his suit of Tartaros armour, rose to the pulpit, spear in hand. All noise ceased, all conversations suddenly silenced by his appearance.
“Warriors, Eagles, today is a grim day.” his voice was even colder than usual, as if he had been struck dead. “I have received word from the Warmaster himself; Icarion has turned away from the Emperor, and brought Alexos, Jackel, Kozja and Raktra in his fall. Word is that he has swayed others as well. For the first time, astartes shall fight astartes. We are the True Eagles, and Alexos' bastards are vultures unworthy of the title. By my hand, I swear he shall fall.” his tone had shifted, from stoicism to sorrow “Our Crusade has not ended, we shall break the rebels and reclaim what they took. We will strike from darkness, sinking their fleets and burning their worlds. As the Serpents ambush their troops on land, so shall we ambush their ships in space. As soon as we leave the Warp, we shall deliver our first blow against the traitors. In the name of the Emperor, and on the wings of the Aquila, I swear that we shall succeed.” resolve now in his statement. Eagerness to bring justice. He left the bridge then, returning to the helm to plan for the battle to come.

The commotion had returned, greater than it was originally. Questions, reticence, and a wave of fervour against which I didn't resist. Spilling the blood of those who defile the Aquila was right. I found myself lifting my chain-axe above my shoulder, and yelling the war-cry of the IV^th.
“For the Eagle, for the Crusade, and for Terra!”

[Chief Captain Redd]

Chiming in on Astartes size, surprisingly I don't think they'd be the tallest legion, but probably the bulkiest/broadest with a few exceptional members that take after their gene father in tremendous size.

[Sigismund229]

Hectarion felt his heart swell with pride as he looked upon the assembled ranks of Crimson Lions. While the vast majority sported the dark skin and almost black hair of those born on Mycenae, there were many who had clearly raised on different worlds. The most numerous were those who had been recruited from the desert tribes of Harrek, almost black skinned or the pale skin, tall, slender build and patrician features of the nobles from Jorra Prime. Less numerous were orange and red haired tribesmen from the mountains of Orryan's world and the short and dark skinned nomads of Eythos or the sickly pale skin and raven black hair of those raised in the coal mines of Nothax. If Hectarion looked for them, he could even see a few lost looking marines bearing the blonde hair and flint grey or ice blue eyes of Terrans or even the iron grey hair and ritual scars of those raised on the hellish world of Barran or the harsh world of Ivrax. All these warriors stood in their ranks, united by their undying loyalty to their primarch and the Imperium. They were his sons, each one bearing his determination. They would need every ounce of that determination in the coming months.

 

"My sons! Icarion Stormborn, first found and lord of the Lightning Bearers, has turned away from the Inperial Truth in favour of madness and delusion. However, if he thinks he can escape retribution he is mistaken! Other legions may balk at this duty, for there is no honour or glory to be found in the slaying of brother astartes. However, the Crimson Lions shall not shy away from our duty. Thankless as it is, we shall bring justice to Icarion and the bastards he calls his sons and the barren rock he calls home. We shall not rest until all traces of the Lightning Bearers existence has been wiped from the galaxy. Even now, the other legions mass to aid us in this task! We shall be the anvil over which the traitors are broken. For the Emperor!". As Hectarion delivered this last part of his speech, the Crimson Lions assembled below him began to hammer their weapons against their shields and roared "FOR MYCENAE AND FOR THE EMPEROR!".

[Big Bad Squig]

  Azus barged through his sons, pushing a clip into his rifle as he went.  More so than usual he looked sullen, his eyes narrowed and his free hand clenched into a fist so tight his knuckles had turned pure white.  As he marched, he thought about his brothers.  They would be making speeches, no doubt.  Azus spat.  No speeches would put a blade through Icarion’s ribs.

  “Ready the Storm Eagle,” he muttered over his personal vox channel.

  “Lord Azus, is there a problem?” the techmarine asked.

  “None that concerns you.  Do it.”

  He would find him.  He would prove himself.  Not a coward or a punching bag for reptiles.  A hero.  A saviour.  After all, Primarchslayer did have a nice ring to it.  He would find Icarion.  He would put him down.  He would take his hearts as trophies and present them on a plate to the Emperor, or else die trying.  And Azus had made up his mind; he did not wish to die that day.

[Chief Captain Redd]

I knew I would not need to say much, I knew he would agree, but the words most be spoken. I hit record on the data missive.

 

"Dearest Brother Hectarion, though we no longer have the wolf, The Bear and the Lion must make prey of our fallen kin."

 

The words fell heavy out of his mouth, but his wrath would fall even harder with the weight of a thousand suns.

[Sigismund229]

                Brennus felt the shock as the boarding pod slammed into the enemy vessel. When the door fell open, he was the first out, his gene helmet filters picking out the heated outlines of large figures. Unmistakably astartes. He fired his bolter, felling two before the rest of his squad had even deployed. When they had, they formed an spear with him at the tip. Advancing in this formation, they let loose a hail of fire that would scythe down any astartes in standard armour that stood in their way. When the traitors responded, the bolter fire would have cut a swathe through a normal squad. However, they weren't facing a normal squad. They were facing the Carnyxia, the III legions finest boarders and in a legion oriented around boarding actions that was quite a feat. Armoured in cataphractii armour, the Carnyxia were impervious to all but the heaviest weaponry available to the legions. 

 

                As the Carnyxia marched through the gun smoke and that caused by the boarding pod, Brennus saw his foe face to face for the first time. The Berzerkers of Uran. Brennus felt a snear tug at the corners of his mouth. Traitors. Weaklings. Where the Lions turned inwards and controlled their anger, turning it into a weapon, the Berzerkers had given in. The first Berzerker rushed at Brennus, wielding a chainsword and bolt pistol. Brennus swatted him aside contemptuously with his power fist, shooting another traitor as he did so. Then, he heard a grunt from the Carnyxia. "Status report. Who's hit?" he snapped into the vox. "Harok. Plasma through the chest. Instant kill shot" reported brother Tyron. Brennus growled at that. Harok had deserved to die surrounded by the foe, slaughtering the enemy in melee as he shouted his hate at them. To die to plasma fire was unworthy of such a warrior. 

 

               Not saying anything, Brennus broke into a sprint towards the Berzerkers. He didn't need to turn around to know the Carnyxia followed him. Seconds before he made contact, Brennus shot another traitor through the face. When he made contact he smashed his power fist through a second traitors chestplate. Hurling the body at three more Berzerkers, Brennus saw the plasma gunner. Howling in rage, in charged towards him. When he hit, he smashed the plasma gunner aside with his sheer mass and drove his fist through the traitors face. Then brother Grondon said "Tyrons down. Mobbed and hacked apart". Brennus filled with anger once more. He charged another knot of Berzerkers. As he began to tear through them, men he might once have called brother, he felt he should perhaps be filled with some sense of sadness or regret. There was no sadness. No regret. Only hatred such as he'd never felt before.

[MikhalLeNoir]

Like it.

[Big Bad Squig]

                A pistol round glanced off of a slate rooftop half an inch away from Azus.  Getting sloppy, brother.  He leapt down from atop the tower upon which he had been taking watch, gliding into the street below.  He could just about make out the sounds of another following him.  Only one? he thought,  You’re making this easy for me, Kozja.  Pushing past a bewildered group of the local xenos inhabitants, Azus darted down a sewer shaft.  The glint of his brother’s armour announced that he was still on his tail.  Follow me, little sheep.  Shouldering his rifle, he fired off three shots in rapid succession, two bouncing from Kozja’s plate.  The third hit a grenade on the traitor’s belt, doing little more than startling his pursuer, but giving Azus time to dart around a corner and continue into the dark.  Come on, sheep.  Into this lovely little slaughterhouse.  As he ran, he counted his steps.  One hundred and thirteen left to go.  Baa!  Baa!  Ninety.  A plasma blast bounced from Azus’ forcefield.  Thirty one.  Azus almost smiled.  Zero.  Azus stopped.  He turned to face his brother, glancing to either side of the tunnel at the timed melta charges placed on the walls.

                “Game over,” he said, shielding his eyes as the bombs detonated, flooding the sewer with water and knocking Kozja from his feet.  Reaching for the ladder, Azus pulled himself up, grinning smugly.  At the top, he stopped, sniffing the air.  His ears pricked to the sound of a blade being drawn.

                “Game over indeed,” uttered the voice of the Jade General.

[MikhalLeNoir]

Gnajaha, Great Ending ;)

[Chief Captain Redd]

That was a fantastic little piece Squig!

[Chief Captain Redd]

"COME K'AWIL! I WILL ONLY BREAK YOU, YOU LITTLE BASTARD PRICK OF A BROTHER"

The gutteral roar that emanated from the throat and lungs was enough to shatter what few windows were near by. The wall, and the better part of the building stood no chance to the juggernaut gait of the true Iron Bear.

 

"ONCE YOU ARE BROKEN I CAN BRING YOU BACK TO FATHER TO FIX YOU"

The shadow darted several buildings over he could both smell and see remnants of K'awil as he moved.

He felt sorry for him, K'awil had been so weak, he needed more time with father. With that same thought he unleashed six of The Ganzhymekwahawk at K'awil's signature he read through the wall.

 

"First blood goes to me brother"

Daer'dd felt cold at the thought.

With but a blink he folded space time around himself, and as his eyes opened he looked down at K'awil pulling a second of several tomahawks from his flesh and armour. Before he could reach the next they were on Daer'dd's belt again.

Daer'dd offered his hand to his brother.

 

"Have I broken you yet? O child of death?"

Genuine concern sung from Daer'dd's words.

 

"Please Daer'dd, yes you're stronger than me, and tougher, and probably smarter than I, but not even one strike of your arcane axes could fell myself or any of our brothers so easily... Why do you offer me your hand?"

K'awil's tone went from proud and condescending to quizzical

 

"I will not kick you when you are down, we are two gods of old fighting, this moment will be remembered by historians for millennia to come. Let us fight like gods on our feet. Besides I want to see who is louder, my roar versus your screams"

A smile crept upon Daer'dd's face

 

"You're serious?"

 

An affirmative nod was all Daer'dd gave.

 

With but a hesitation a cacophonous sound arose louder than the bellows of the Imperator Titans Daer'dd had sent against the Grave Stalkers.

 

K'awil kept the scream up he'd never seen such a feat. Daer'dd's ears, and nose bled, and the vessels in his eyes had popped crimson filling the black of his eyes, Daer'dd's inner light pooled out into the blood making his whole face seem to glow with an ethereal light. But by the fething Gods was he loud, he'd heard tales of his Roar being heard a hundred miles away but never believed it. K'awil noticed that his helmet had first rumbled and was now rattling with fierce vibrations. This quickly turned into a crack, a pop, and a bang. His helm had shattered on his face.

"That bastard matched the harmonic resonance of the metals of my helm and was actually loud enough to shatter with his voice...FETH"

All but the last word were K'awil's inner monologue.

Daer'dd loomed over K'awil snarling with blood dripping down his face. K'awil started to move when Daer'dd said one with enough of a bang K'awil accidentally complied with the order

"SIT!"

"Sit there and listen to me brother for just a moment, and then we can fight till the world ends"

K'awil nodded.

"Do you really think those false gods can truly offer you anything? Do you think you'll be little more than Icarion's puppet? Father and Alexandros have shown me so much recently and I am open, I understand everything so much more clearly than before. Father made us to be gods and kings! But this path you're on you'll end up only a servant! Do you really think they want or need you? Or any of us? No! They fear us! They fear me! For we are beings of their realm bound to flesh. But this flesh? This flesh has made us GODS and far stronger than any of those false gods understand! Kill me now and in ten millennia I will end each and every one of those false gods, and I will conquer the empyrean for father! Those beings will fall before my might! Who do you serve K'awil!?"

 

"I serve no one"

 

The first blow fell and the fight started.

 

(This is just a little idea that popped in my head, nothing to be taken too seriously)

[simison]

I love these new short stories.

[Big Bad Squig]

Yeah, and I do think we should get them all in one place (as I suggested earlier).  I'm gonna compile the ones I can find into a word document (ideally in chronological order), and once that's done put it up as a link in a thread, methinks.  I'll try to find most myself, but if anyone wants to PM me with links for convenience, that would be great.

[MikhalLeNoir]

On Page 20 of the general discussion thread are some stories

[Demus Ragnok]

[This scene popped into my head during my last guard shift.]

 

Seeing through the 'eyes' of the mighty Imperator titan filled its princeps with a sense of indestructibility. He towered above all, including his fellow titans of Legio Mortis. Ahead of them lay Magma City, home to Adept Koriel Zeth. She had refused reason and sided with the Emperor. Legio Mortis was to put an end to that mistake. Already, the Warhound titans were beginning their attacks, while the rest of the legio had void shields raised and weapons powered. Victory would soon be theirs. 

 

The Princeps vision of glory died as an alien will smothered his mind. The Master of Aquila Ignis struggled and fought the being invading his thoughts, but it was too strong. He managed to turn his sight to the titan's bridge cameras. He had to warn the others of this unseen attack. To his surprise, his moderati were rooted to their seats, twitching. The rest of the crew was unaware. Desperate, the Princeps called to the spirit of Ignis, hoping it's raw power would free him. He felt the clash as the Imperator's rage slammed into the malicious will. For a moment, the Princeps could feel the invader falter. 

 

Then it called on its own rage and broke the titan's spirit with its own. 

 

Control now entirely in the invader's hands, commands were issued. The Princeps was a puppet as he aimed the plasma annihilator and the hellstorm cannon targeted an unsuspecting Warlord titan, his moderati unwillingly supporting him. His brothers who had noticed were now flooding the communication channels as they sought an answer to Ignis' forced actions. 

 

The Princeps screamed within his own trapped mind and finally demanded, What are you!?

 

The invader answered in a 'voice' laced with wrath and disgust. 

 

I am the Warmaster.

 

Fire.

So I had this on my mind. Niklaas is building a suit of terminator armor for the Warmaster.

 

Alexandros already has some solid rules. But...

 

I keep thinking about having the armor incorporate some sort of psychic battery or resonator or some such that would lend him some unique abilities.

 

The in verse reason I'm on about here is that Niklaas is openly adverse to "witches". His home world had a witch problem so he has his reasons. He accepts that the E is something unique, not just "a witch", this thought extends to Alexandros and in the beginning Icarion because they are the Emperors sons. But they're still psykers. So...

 

To show his unwavering support to the Warmaster, Niklaas searches far and wide and gathers the knowledge and materials to build a truly unique suit of armor that will allow Alexandros to wield his abilities in new and greater ways for the cause of the Imperium.

 

But other than that I'm all out of good ideas so I'd like to hear from the group. Especially Simison.