The Might of the Custodes (fluff discussion)

[b1soul]

Just some thoughts on the Emperor's augmented super-warriors

 

It seems that the individual might of the Custodes has significantly evolved over the years across different BL/FW

 

Back in the mid to late 2000s when I first startes getting into 40k, I recall people were claiming that Custodes were to SM as SM were to mortals. Some of the Custodes vs. TSon descriptions in Collected Visions seemed to confirm this view, e.g. TSons dying in droves and barely able to touch the Custodes

 

Then came Blood Games by Abnett:

 

 

They were not like custodes at all. Like cousins, perhaps, like kin from the same bloodline, the custodes and the Astartes were similar but distinct. The custodes were the product of an older, formative process, a process, some said, that had been refined and simplified to produce the Astartes en masse. Generally, custodes were larger and more powerful than Astartes, but the differences were only noticeably significant in a few specific cases. No one would be foolish enough to predict the outcome of a contest between an Astartes and a custodes.

 

The greatest differences lay in the mind. Though custodes shared a familial bond through the circles of their order, it was nothing like the keen brotherhood that cemented the Legions of the Astartes. Custodes were far more solitary beings: sentinels, watchmen, destined to stand forever, alone.

 

Custodes did not surround themselves with slaves and servitors, aides and handservants. They armoured themselves, alone, pragmatically, without ceremony.

 

 

The Custodes didn't make much of an appearance until The First Heretic by ADB, where a small, likely elite, group of them displayed impressive skills relative to their Astartes brethren.

 

 

 

Vendatha was already in motion. The golden warrior leapt at the primarch, guardian spear spinning in his fists, an oath to the Emperor on his lips. Four Word Bearers blocked his path, and those four Word Bearers had to die.

 

Rikus was the first to fall. The Custodian’s blade crunched into the soft, jointed armour at the Chaplain’s throat, punching from the back of his neck. Tsar Quorel died next, decapitated with a buzzing sweep of the energised blade, dead before he’d pulled his trigger.

 

Deumos managed to fire a stream of bolt shells, none of which connected. Vendatha weaved left, thudded the base of his spear into the Chapter Master’s bolter, knocking it aside, and followed with a cutting swing that sheared both the Word Bearer’s hands from his body, severing them at the forearms. Deumos had a scarce moment to draw in a stunned gasp before the spear sliced again, this time cleaving through his collarbone and spine, ripping his head free.

 

Vendatha span the blade in his hands, letting it come to rest with the tip and gun barrel aimed at Lorgar’s heart again. Behind the Custodian, the bodies crashed to the ground in slow succession. Three seconds had passed.

 

Argel Tal was picking himself off the floor. Only Xaphen stood between the primarch and his attacker, but the Chaplain had used the scant precious seconds to draw his bolter, which he aimed squarely at Vendatha’s faceplate.

 

‘Hold,’ he warned.

 

. . .

 

Vendatha squeezed the trigger again, but it was too late. Xaphen fired first.

 

Bolt rounds hammered into the Custodian’s golden armour, beating the faceplate and chest out of shape, tearing chunks of plating away as they detonated.

 

 

The First Heretic also provided an interesting lions vs. wolves analogy, which I rather liked . . .

 

 

 

 

Several Word Bearers crouched at the lip of a roof overlooking the street. Argel Tal, Torgal, and the sergeant’s assault squad. The golden warriors moved ahead with consummate grace, the dance of their blades eclipsing anything a mortal could perform.

 

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Torgal said. ‘Should we join them?’

 

From below, a shout rose above the butchery. For the Emperor – a battlecry that hadn’t left a Word Bearer’s lips since Monarchia. Strange, how it sounded almost alien to Argel Tal’s ears.

 

‘No,’ the captain replied. ‘Not yet.’

 

Torgal watched for several more moments, one finger idly stroking his chainword’s trigger. ‘There’s something about the way they fight,’ he said. ‘Some flaw that I can’t make out.

 

 

Argel Tal watched Aquillon, the Custodian’s blade reaving its way through countless lives, and saw nothing of the kind. He said so.

 

Torgal shook his head, still watching. ‘I can’t form the thought. They lack… something. They’re fighting… wrong.’

 

And this time, as soon as Argel Tal returned his gaze to the battle in the street, he saw it instantly. The way the Custodes fought seemed almost identical to the Astartes; it took a trained eye to see the subtle differences. The captain had missed it first by focusing on a single warrior. The moment he took in the full view…

 

‘There,’ said Argel Tal. ‘I see it, too.’

 

Was it a flaw? Perhaps by the standards of the Astartes, who waged war and lived life with brotherhood etched into their genetic codes. But Custodes were the sons of a more rarefied and time-consuming process – the biological manipulation that gave birth to the Emperor’s guardians bred warriors who weren’t shackled by bonds of loyalty to anyone except their Imperial overlord.

 

‘They’re not brothers,’ Argel Tal said. ‘Watch how they move. See how each one fights his own war, alone, unsupported by the others. They’re not like us. These are warriors, not soldiers.’

 

The thought made his skin crawl. It must have had the same effect on Torgal, for he voiced the words on his captain’s mind.

 

‘Lions,’ the sergeant said. ‘They’re lions, not wolves, hunting alone instead of as a pack. Gold,’ he added, and tapped the chestplate of his armour, ‘not grey.’

 

‘Good eyes, brother.’ Argel Tal still stared intently. Now he was aware of the disunity, it was all he could focus on. Here was a weakness, a savage one, masked only by the heroic skills of each warrior and the worthlessness of the enemies they faced.

 

A ripple of unease shivered through him as he bore witness. Those ancient words of the Emperor came to him, that first creed of the Legiones Astartes: And they shall know no fear.

 

Argel Tal was one of those who took the creed in its most literal sense, believing the sensitivity to feel fear was rewritten out of him at the genetic level. But even so, watching these brotherless cousins fight chilled him to his core. They lacked so much, despite their individual perfection.

 

‘In standing free of brotherhood,’ he said, ‘they also sacrifice its strengths. The tactics of a pack. The trust in those who fight by your side. I suspect the secrets woven into their body and blood gene-bind them to a higher loyalty – perhaps their only brother is the Emperor himself.’

 

 

Graham's Outcast Dead seemed to follow Abnett's idea of Custodes not being very substantially superior:

 

 

 

 

Uttam wore the gold armour of a Custodian, the cheek plates of his full-face helm folded back into its layered structure. His features were unmoving and expressionless, the result of a greenskin bacteriological pathogen that had left the upper right quadrant of his face unresponsive to muscle stimulus. His enhanced metabolism had easily purged the toxin, but the after-effects of the injury had reduced his reflexive response times to a level below the minimum required for front line service.

. . .

 

Uttam despised Tagore [a World Eater], he had killed three hundred and fifty nine men before he had been subdued, and that made him almost as dangerous as a Custodian. The soldiers hauled the nutrition dispenser around as Uttam took position in front of the door.

. . .

 

‘I am going to kill you,’ said Tagore of the World Eaters. ‘Rip your spine out through your chest.’

 

From a cross-legged position, Atharva watched the dance of his puppets with a satisfied smile. A tug of thought brought the Uralian Stormlord running towards his cell while Tagore and Custodian Uttam faced off against one another. Time was critical. He couldn’t let the World Eater kill the Custodian or this escape would be over before it began.

 

. . .

 

So long as Tagore didn’t kill Uttam Luna Hesh Udar too soon. Fists and elbows, knees and feet. They fought in a blur of thundering punches, bone-breaking kicks and titanic impacts. Two warriors, crafted to be the pinnacles of fighting men, flew at each other with rage and neuro-cortical implants and the finest genetic manipulation on either side of loyalty.

 

Tagore fought with teeth bared, eyes bulging madness. He fought without heed or thought of restraint, with no care for injury or death. Uttam Luna Hesh Udar fought with precision, grace and exacting killing blows straight from the combat forges of the Legio Custodes.

 

Two warriors of extremes, two warriors primed to deal death in completely different ways.

 

Uttam was armoured, Tagore was bare-skinned and bleeding.

 

The Custodian’s guardian spear lay broken between them, its haft snapped like matchwood in Tagore’s grip. Its blade fizzed and spat in the moisture drizzling from the cavern’s roof. Tagore spun around Uttam, kicking his heel into the back of the Custodian’s knee. Uttam went down with a grunt, catching the follow-up knee to the face in his blocking gauntlets. Uttam twisted his grip, spinning Tagore from his feet. He followed up, foot thundering down to crush the World Eater’s head.

 

Tagore rolled, came up, and punched the side of Uttam’s thigh. Plates cracked and the paralyzing nerve-impact dropped him to one knee. A right cross tore his helmet off and an uppercut threw him onto his back. Tagore scissored himself to his feet and hurled himself at the fallen Custodian. Uttam met his flying leap with a downward-bludgeoning fist that drove Tagore into the ground like a downed Stormbird. Tagore rolled aside from the inevitable head-crushing elbow and sprang to his feet in time to meet the Custodian’s charge.

 

They grappled like street brawlers. Rabbit-punching kidneys, legs locking and unlocking as each warrior sought a hold that would drop their opponent. The iron plates bolted to Tagore’s head spat fat red sparks as it pumped chem-stims and rage boosters into his bloodstream and electrical impulses to the anger centres of his brain. His fury had been building to critical mass ever since his incarceration, and this was just the fight to unleash it.

 

The first advantage went to Uttam. Every blow Tagore struck was against artificer-forged plate, hand shaped in the armouries beneath the Anatolian peaks, where Uttam hammered unprotected flesh. Pure concussive force cracked the bone shield in Tagore’s chest, and he grunted as a piledriver of an uppercut drove up into his gut. The briefest flinch, but an opening nonetheless.

 

Uttam twisted and slammed his elbow

into Tagore’s jaw. Blood and teeth flew from the World Eater’s jaw. Uttam closed for the killing blow, but pain was just another stimulus to a killer like Tagore. The World Eater spat a tooth, and caught Uttam’s fist in one raw meat palm. He caught the other fist mid-punch and smashed his forehead into Uttam’s face. The Custodian’s nose broke, and both cheekbones shattered. Blood blinded him for an instant before he shook his eyes clear of it, but an instant was all Tagore needed.

 

His blooded fist hammered into Uttam’s chest, driven by rage and betrayal.

 

Ceramite shattered, adamantium buckled and bone broke.

 

Tagore bellowed in atavistic triumph as his power, momentum and strength drove his fist deep into the Custodian’s chest. Meat and blood parted before his digging hand until his fingers closed on iron-hard bone.

 

The Custodian’s eyes were wide with

agony, his body still fighting for life even as Tagore ripped it out of him. Tagore spat blood in his face, grinning a manic skull’s grin.

 

‘Still think I make empty threats, Custodian?’ he snarled.

 

Uttam tried to respond, but only managed a horrid sucking noise from his gored chest cavity. Tagore felt bone buckle, crushed beneath his implacable grip. Strong and tough, but not as strong or tough as a sergeant of the World Eaters.

 

 

 

 

Subha fought like Angron in the arena: with fury and unrelenting pressure. He was the perfect foil for Asubha’s careful skill. While an enemy was desperately defending against the flurry of Subha’s terrible blows, Asubha would be striking with cool precision, hunting for the killing blow that would end any opponent’s resistance in a heartbeat.

 

But this fight was not going the way either of them expected.

 

The Custodian repelled Subha without apparent effort, his guardian spear moving with such speed that it was surely impossible. Asubha fired his pistol, but the gold-armoured warrior swayed aside as the shot was fired. His spear spun around and hacked the barrel in two before reversing the blow and hammering the barbed haft into Subha’s stomach. The colossal impact staggered his twin, and Asubha took the opportunity to slash with the long knife he had taken from one of Babu Dhakal’s men.

 

The blade scraped over the Custodian’s shoulder guard and bounced from the cheek plate of his helmet. His foe slammed an elbow into Asubha’s face and he reeled at the power behind the strike. Asubha took a step back to reorient himself as Subha circled around to flank the Custodian.

 

‘I always wanted to fight a Custodian,’ snarled Subha.

 

‘We wondered who would emerge triumphant,’ added Asubha. ‘One of us or one of you?’

 

‘There are two of you,’ pointed out the Custodian.

 

‘True, but the question still stands. Our debates would always end in stalemate, for there can be no true answer without death hanging on the outcome,’ said

Asubha.

 

‘You know the answer. I can see it in your eyes. You know you cannot defeat me.’

 

Asubha laughed and reversed his blade. ‘Tell me your name,’ he said. ‘That we might remember the mighty warrior we slew on Terra.’

 

The Custodian brought his spear around to the guard position. ‘I am Saturnalia Princeps Carthagina Invictus Cronus–’

 

‘Enough!’ barked Subha, launching himself at Saturnalia. His twin still bore the blade snapped from the haft of the Custodian they had killed in the Vault. Though a poor mirror of that wielded by Saturnalia, it was still a deadly weapon in the hands of a World Eater. Saturnalia stepped into the attack, going low and driving his speartip at Subha’s gut. His twin spun aside from the blow, hammering his blade against Saturnalia’s shoulder. A gold plate spun off, but the heavy mail weave beneath sent the edge skidding away before

it could draw blood.

 

Asubha followed up and aimed a thunderous kick towards Saturnalia’s unprotected side. A burnished hip plate crumpled under the impact, and drove Saturnalia to the ground. Asubha thrust with his blade, but the Custodian leaned away from the blow, the tip of the blade scraping a furrow in his helmet’s visor.

 

Saturnalia’s leg swept out in a scything arc, smashing Asubha from his feet. He rolled as he landed, barely avoiding a guillotine-chop of the Custodian’s guardian spear. Asubha was on his feet a moment later, and saw Subha slam his fist into the side of Saturnalia’s red-plumed helm. The Custodian went down hard, but before Subha could press his advantage, he wrenched off his battered helmet and swung it in a punishing arc that smashed into Subha’s jaw with a crunch of breaking bone.

 

Subha toppled backwards, and Asubha threw himself at Saturnalia as he discarded his ruined helm. The two warriors went down in a tangle of powerful limbs, punching, gouging and jabbing with elbows and fists. Asubha rammed his forehead into Saturnalia’s face and grinned as he felt the warrior’s nose shatter. He dug for his knife, pistoning the blade towards

the Custodian’s jaw. Saturnalia blocked the blow with his forearm, and the knife blade drove up through his vambrace and bone. They rolled, and an armoured fist slammed into the side of Asubha’s face.

 

Asubha was thrown clear by the power behind the blow. He spat blood and rose to a crouch, ready to hurl himself at Saturnalia again. All finesse was gone, his fury had taken over and he and his brother were as one. Subha was already on his feet, his lower jaw all but hanging from his skull, but so too was Saturnalia. The Custodian had retrieved his guardian spear and its tip was aimed at Subha’s heart.

 

A pumping barrage of shells exploded from the weapon and Subha rocked back as the explosive bolts tore into him. Each one detonated within his flesh, mushrooming from his back in fans of bright blood and splintered bone. Subha crumpled, the life already vanishing from his eyes as he fell onto his front.

 

‘Now you know,’ said Saturnalia with a

rictus grin of blood.

 

Asubha felt the red rage take him, and though he had always longed for the butcher’s nails, he knew now he did not need them to reach the clarity of undiluted fury. Saturnalia saw the change in him and took a step away. Asubha screamed his brother’s name and threw himself back into the fight.

 

The guardian spear swung out, but Asubha dived beneath its killing arc and swept up Subha’s fallen blade. He slashed twice in quick succession as he rolled upright in one smooth motion. Blood sprayed from the twin cuts through the flexible mail weave at the back of Saturnalia’s knees, and the Custodian fell into a pool of blood, unable to stand, but still able to fight.

 

Asubha circled around to face him, his anger filling him with its purity of purpose.

 

‘You will die here today,’ hissed Saturnalia through his agony. He held his guardian spear before him, and Asubha

took a step forward until the tip was resting on his chest.

 

‘I know that,’ agreed Asubha. ‘But so will you.’

 

Asubha drove his bloodied blade down through Saturnalia’s skull as the Custodian thrust his spear with the last of his strength. The guardian spear clove Asubha’s heart and tore through his lungs, wreaking irreparable damage to his body. Both warriors slumped against one another as though embracing in honour of their fight to the death.

 

Asubha slid to the side and fell beside the body of his twin.

 

As he bled out onto the temple floor, he pressed the broken blade that had ended Saturnalia’s life into his brother’s dead hand.

 

‘We walk the Crimson Path together, brother,’ said Asubha.

 

 

 

In Master of Mankind, ADB presents an alternative view that the Custodes lack of team work may not be such a weakness after all

 

 

 

Each one was an individual among other individuals, trailed by his own artificers and arsenal thralls, the latter of whom reloaded the Custodians’ guardian spears each time a warrior called out.

Their ranks seemed informal, like gestures of respect towards veterans and gifted individuals rather than a command structure to be rigidly adhered to. Few of them, even Tribune Endymion or those who shared Diocletian Coros’ rank of prefect, ever gave orders.

They simply immersed themselves wherever the fighting was thickest, slaughtering in silence.

And yet, there was unity. Unity of purpose, if nothing else. Despite the lack of order and the length of their spinning blades, they never burdened one another or blighted the paths of the other warriors around them. Consummate reflexes far in advance of a legionary’s own genhanced grace gave them a talent that required years for human soldiers, even Space Marines, to learn through repetitive discipline. Yet the Ten Thousand were masters of it. The Archimandrite watched them whirling and killing, their energised blades passing within a hand’s breadth of another golden warrior, yet never once threatening the other Custodian’s life. Each one of them existed within his own sphere, a warlord unto himself.

Nor was that all. The Archimandrite’s observation revealed an inherent defensiveness in the initial blows of each duel. At first this seeming passivity during the first seconds of engagement made little sense, but further analysis showed the truth. Each Custodian spent those precious moments studying his foe, adjusting his fighting style to compensate, then delivering a killing blow. They could simply overpower their enemies immediately with superior strength, speed and armament. Instead, they learned from each and every fight.

 

Ra Endymion exemplified this. He would parry twice or thrice, whether it was sword, axe, fang or claw, following his enemy’s movements with brief flickers of attention, then lashing back to impale, to cleave, to sever. According to the Archimandrite’s datastreams, no legionary had yet lasted more than three blows against his advance.

Bodyguards, the Archimandrite mused. Praetorians. This was their purpose, after all. Not to win wars, but to know their master’s enemies and destroy them before they could do Him harm. How many thousands of hours of pict-footage did the Ten Thousand study from each conquered or compliant world? Their lives surely consisted of an eternity of preparatory devotion, studying enemy after enemy in case they ever faced them in battle, atop the physicality of their standard training.

Their preternatural reactions allowed them to block bolts and lasfire alike, deflecting it from their spinning spears, but they could still be killed. The Archimandrite had witnessed that itself. They could be overwhelmed by foes and dragged down, or gunned down while already engaged

 

 

Do you guys like the idea of Custodes being to SM as SM are to Imperial Army troopers?

 

It seems that's what the latest fluff supports. In FW Inferno, 6,000 nulled TSons get massacred in melee by 500 Custodes led by Valdor. Valdor is hurt and only "scores" of Custodes are badly wounded..and of those, most don't actually die.

 

...or do you prefer Abnett's take or something between the two extremes?

 

As for the Thunder Warriors, I like how they are not just inferior Astartes. They are almost like berserker Ogryn Astartes, physically and mentally flawed but very powerful as close combat brutes.

[Huggtand]

Yes, the power levels of 30k is ramping up it seems.

I must say that I like Abnett´s version of the Custodes best. The old fluff with not so much distinction between SM a Custodes takes away some of the uniqueness of the Emperors bodyguard. Then they are just another legion in fancy armour.

But the resent fluff goes too far towards Herohammering for my taste. Sure the Emperors Companions should be great warriors, but if they are too good it takes away the tension and most enemies they face just becomes fodder. A good example is the difference between the book and film of The Lords of the Rings. In the book orcs are a foe that even the mightiest heroes take serious. So when they meet them there is real danger even in small engagement. In the film they have ramped up the power levels of the heroes to the umph degree and the fight just becomes stunts without any stakes and as a result becomes boring. And unfortenly the fights in tMoM is on that level and the only thing I didn´t like as much as the rest in that excellent book. The Custodes is so good that the only challenge for them is that there is so many of the enemies and instead what is left is the stunts of the Custodes. There are only a few enemies that makes for good dynamics fights.

Abnett´s Custodes, in my opinion, has a good balance and is unique without being to above everyone else. Another example is ADB´s Khârn. Even if he is one of the best fighter in the Legions in every fight there is ups and downs witch creates an interesting story.

Just my humble opinion

[b1soul]

A more cynical observation on my part...

 

If you want to sell Custodes, this is how you do it...by making them super-powerful in Inferno

[Huggtand]

A tried and tested strategy from GW through the years

[bluntblade]

One thought on MoM's depiction; Ra is seen fighting a mass of Astartes rather than the Custodes facing a coherent Legion. The fighting is all manic confusion, where the Astartes can't bring their cohesion to bear against the Custodes.

[Noctus Cornix]

Personally, I've always seen Custodes following the line of thinking similar to that displayed in MoM and TFH. I've always envisioned Custodes to be at the precipice of genetic manipulation between Primarch and Space Marine, inferior to the former and superior to the latter. They are the bodyguards of the Emperor himself and Watchmen to the capital fortress palace that stands as the very center of a galaxy-spanning empire. The idea that they were just on a rather average level to Space Marines just seemed ridiculous to me, especially considering the astronomical level of difference between a Primarch and one of his sons.  

[Calas Typhon]

Knew that Tagore would pop up in this thread before even opening it . Outcast Dead was not really liked by people I have talked to that have read it, but I believe the Custodes were portrayed pretty well in it. (As well as one of the coolest WE crew going)

 

Abnetts seems to be the best portrayal though in my honest opinion, and the point where I would call it.

 

I think the problem we have is exactly as outlined "the individual might of the Custodes has significantly evolved over the years across different BL/FW"

I mean, you would have to improve the might over the years with the stuff most of the Heroes in the HH series have done (Khârn getting beat to high heaven by Angron and surviving, Aximand loosing his face,Vulkan and Sharrokyn.) 

[Marshal Rohr]

The Abnett-Blood Games Custodes made more sense than than the current iteration. He current iteration falls into the power level trap that is pervasive in 40k. The idea that you can basically treat biological/genetic enhancement the same way you treat building a gaming computer is silly. Basically Space Marines are great but the same organs in a Custodes is actually even better? The height=importance factor is also silly as hell. Custodes are taller, therefore must be powerful.

 

Custodes should've stayed space marine sized and better trained. Jacking them up into super marines was a silly move.

[b1soul]

I liked Abnett's take the most as well

 

I do think the Custodes should be moderately superior to SM physically, thanks to the more painstaking process of crafting a Custodes

 

My preference...

if average Custodes physical performance is scored as 100, average SM physical performance should be around 85, which is a moderate but still significant difference, though not a yawning gulf of a gap

 

Right now, it seems Custodes are 100 and SM are 5...literally 5

 

6,000 SM get massacred by 500 Custodes.

 

It seems SM aren't even better soldiers than Custodes anymore

 

Custodes are better as indivual warriors and as soldiers in larger-scale engagements

 

The only advantage of SM seems to be their relative cheapness

[bluntblade]

What's the 6000-500 thing from? I would like AD-B's input, but personally I think MoM's circumstances are quite different to a proper force of Astartes fighting as a Legion against an army of Custodes.

 

I want a battle on Terra where Abaddon leads the SoH's finest against the Custodians and we get a pure, epic Astartes vs. Custodes fight.

[Kelborn]

I have to be honest in that I was never really interested in the Custodians until Inferno hit.

 

Let's say it floated my boat enough for me to get curious about them. From your summary, b1soul, I like Dans and Aarons version the most.

 

Yes, Custodians are on a uber power level right now. IMHO they should be "harder, better, faster, stronger" than normal Astartes. Don't think that Big E would want a "regular" Astartes force as his bodyguards. If so, he could have taken the Fists instead.

 

Custodians made by an older (and more complex) version of gene enhancement plus enhanced training, making them better than Astartes but not on THAT powerlevel as it is these days = :tu:

 

Custodians made superior just because = naaayyy

[TheTrans]

Does anyone get the feeling that custodes are made to just straight up kill marines?

Like... the fact is to me, it seems each individual Custodes is loyal to the big E before all else. Like I have no doubt if the E just said to Custode 1 to kill Custode 2, in like...a slowly cut his throat and watch the life drain out of him for cruelties sake sort of way, he would, he wouldn't maybe be happy about it in his heart of hearts..but he would kill him good and to the letter of what the E wanted.

Compare that to the brotherhood of marines, if their Primarch asked the same thing, for the same reasons, I feel they may...maaaay evenutally do it, but there would be a lot of internal warring and no sort unnecessary cruelty to it. More Primarch to Line Trooper 1, cruely kill Line Trooper 2, your squad mate. He may...but I feel it would be kill him quickly not follow the order to the letter if he eventually went down that path, because the marines are also loyal to their brother marines, probably a lot of the time, before all else. Otherwise a lot of heresy wouldn't of happened I think (especially splits in the legions). 

Any way, I feel my point is, the Custodes where designed never to be obsolete as lez be honest I reckon a lot of the marines would of been "Thunder-warriored" if the E's plans came to fruition.... and who exactly do you think would of been doing the culling?

 

Exactly....

So I feel logic would dictate that of course the custodes should be able to :cuss all over the marines, as they were designed to be superior probably for future liquidation of said marines..

 

Any way, just some of my thoughts... 

[b1soul]

Despite the custodes current power level, I don't see how 10,000 custodes could liquidate 2,000,000 SM

 

I think it would have been more feasible during late Unification or the retaking of Sol

 

That said, it would certainly make sense for any anti-Astartes force to include a good number of custodes

[TheTrans]

Fair dues good sir. But I doubt you'd have 10,000 squaring off against the 2,000,000 in one sitting. Is pretty easy to move around 10k as opposed to 2m dudes haha. But I definitely get what you mean!

 

Maybe if :cuss didn't go down the Big E would of told the legions to taper off recruitment, with maybe like the Fists and Ultras or even space pups as enforcers of this?

[Dagoth Ur]

I have to say that I much, much prefer the Custodes as portrayed in The First Heretic, Master of Mankind and Inferno, that is to say, something separate from the Space Marine. Even on a biological level, they are different, an own entity if you will. I don't think it has ever been really elaborated on how the Custodes are made, has it? (in newer fluff at the very least).

Making them just better trained, golden space marines just seems kinda naff to me. Not really special enough for the Emperor's bodyguard. Gives them a certain sense of mystery too, especially when we see just how differently they behave and interact with outsiders, compared to Astartes.

I like them as the giant, golden, metal-clad bananas as they are :) Scientific realism is tertiary to me anyways when it comes to this setting. I certainly prefer it more as an epic tale or a saga, where everything somehow stands separate from each other (Then again, I am also the dude who enjoys Parzival, the Lay of the Nibelungs etc on a regularly basis, so maybe it is just the hang towards old fashioned tales).

At the end of the day, they were created for a different purpose altogether than the Astartes. Why shouldn't they be something different then? The Emperor needed his attack dogs and his homewardens, thus he bred them differently. Anyways, that's my two cents on the topic :)

[b1soul]

I think most ppl here agree that Custodes should be physically superior to SM

 

No one thinks Custodes should merely be "better-trained" SM

 

The issue is...do you like mini-primarch Custodes, each of whom can butcher dozens of SM...or do you like SM 2.0 Custodes, each of whom can take on around 3 or so SM?

 

There's also a vast middle-ground between these two extremes.

 

Yeah...Custodes should be more than better-trained SM...but how much more...and in what way?

[TheTrans]

Hmm... does one also need to maybe factor in Custodes wargear also.

If we use a very light basis of rules-to-fluff. All they're stuff is marine killers. So in fluff, we know...generally, Marine armour is relatively impervious. If we get some rules flavouring, it can fend off bolt shells, all the las in world, even Autocannon rounds. Now thats a 3+.

Custodes all have a 2+ armour save, with inbuilt refractors (which in fluff, stops, like....everything....). So to begin with the Custodes base armour is impervious to everything except LasCannons, Demolisher Rounds, Plasma etc..which is like the nastiest :cuss in the galaxy. The 2+ puts their armour in a comparison with terminator armour, which we know is the next best thing to actually just not getting shot. We then factor in Refractor Fields, to stop some of the big nasties as well.

So that is just armours. 

Now we look at 'average' wargear equivalents. Marines have what, Bolter, Big farkin knives/chainswords. Then you have your smatterings of special weapons, Power Swords (which don't bother Custodes), Power Axes (there it is!), Power Fists, Plasma, Melta etc. So, just going to do some basic maths on the whole (again with smatterings of rules, as I believe if we find a balance we can have a good argument) 

So if we cite that 6000-vs-500 sort of thing (which I'll happily admit 12-1 is pretty long odds, it would of still been awesome at 6-1..but thats not really how GW (even FW) writes anymore :'( ). So say if all the 20 man squads are lead by a dude with a power axe and articifer armour. That is 300 'Crappy-Custodes' analogues, the 100 Elite termies and somewhere around 5500 Lemmings.

So pretty much only 1 in 6 Marines have a chance of penetrating the custode's armour, factoring in if they get close enough to land a blow/close range shot. Where as every Custodes hit on any non-Articifer Armour/Termy Armoured Marine would penetrate. So if they swing 10 times a minute, 10 incapacitated Astartes. Factor in the average Astartes weapons essentially bounce off of their armour.... life ain't great for the Astartes.

Any way, trying to marry fluff and games rules is a dangerous path, as is applying any actual logic to 40/30k has always been naff. There will always be a hand wavium reason or even just Rule-of-Cool for a lot of the stupid stuff that happens.

But at the same time, would people be batting an eye lid if 500 marines held off 6000 guardsmen in a defensible position? I wouldn't really be too upset, as long as the Astartes copped a hiding (which the Custodes did). Because to simplify put it, that is pretty much what it is.


Superior dudes, with better weapons, armour and skills, holding back masses of their lessers, is bread and butter 40/30k fluff. Maybe it's just a bit confronting when it is Astartes being the lessers :P...

P.S. Just had a quick look at the section about that battle, we haven't even factored in the sisters of silence. They would of further degraded any 1kSons sergeants etc that where even low level psykers. All the sisters also have comparable skills, if not the up front durability of astartes. So we know over 500 sisters bit the dust, so they copped many casualties, but the fluff says there was 2 full vigils of sisters, which is a cheeky 2000 chicks with bolters/swords. So all of a sudden it is 500 Custodes (superior troops) and 2000 Sisters (equivalent-ish, but not as tough as line astartes) against that 6000, so the odds are only 2.5ish-1.. bit more reasonable.

There is also mention of tanks or what not, but the 1ksons just Yolo-charged in which would of hampered the tanks due to FF issues...

[Paradigm]

I like the idea that they are more akin to Primarchs than Marines. There aren't that many of them really, and the Lions to Wolves is a good analogy. We don't know the biology of the Custodes, but we do know that primarchs are as different from Marines as Marines are to man. We have no reason to think custodes are made the same as marines, with the same genetics, but better. They probably represent a totally different process, unlike either marines or primarchs or thunder warriors for that matter.

 

The Outcast Dead was one of my favorite books in the series, but I feel like it portrayed custodes strangely, - and marines strangely, too - despite being a good story. Considering how hard it would be for two equally matched humans to bear-handed tear each other up like that, we have no reason to think a marine could do it to another marine, let alone a custodes. I think it was a bit overdone there.

 

The wargear factor is important, as well. It seems they have it better in every regard. Considering how much more dangerous better wargear seems to make a warrior in this setting that alone could explain the huge power disparity.

[Sandlemad]

On the wargear note, I do like the strong FW emphasis on the custodes not being a traditional military force by design. No swathes of line troops, no heavy armour, no siege engines, no fleets of warships, little troop specialisation, minimal hierarchy. To my mind that goes a long way towards making them more interesting as a force than their personal prowess.

 

You could never conquer the galaxy with however many thousands of custodes, it takes a Legion. A legion of astartes is more than the sum of its parts. Less so the legio custodes.

[Marshal Rohr]

The issue becomes how are they superior, when marines are already superior? You can have a mass produced violin and a Stradivarius, for example. One is a masterpiece and you can tell when you hear the music, but both still only play music. Genetic augmentation only goes so far, the emperor could surely create masterpieces in the custodes, but that doesn't really explain why they are taller, etc. the Primarchs weren't just marines dialed up to 11, they are specifically noted as having some supernatural quality. By making the custodes just the platinum tier of genetic modification for soldiers, it doesn't follow they'd be like the Primarchs.

[TURBULENCE]

Custodies aren't just better versions of marines though. We're not just comparing the same item with one built better. The process to make each is different. What's inside each is different. Also they aren't just for war, custodes are warriors yes, but also politicians, spies and any number of roles. Each got individualised training.

[Purge the Daemon]

Custodies aren't just better versions of marines though. We're not just comparing the same item with one built better. The process to make each is different. What's inside each is different. Also they aren't just for war, custodes are warriors yes, but also politicians, spies and any number of roles. Each got individualised training.

Sure each got individual training and that would make them much better leaders and diplomats vs the average marine. But in the Grimm Darkness of the far future there is only war and I'm not sure 1 Custodian should kill 5 marines without breaking sweat. If they are that good the 10000 would be better than any of the legions at warfare in every aspect. Right now even the custodes are more similar to primarchs than to marines which I find kind of ludicrous because if they were that close why not just have a Custodian lead the legions.

[Baluc]

Well game mechanics, 3 custodes kill a tactical squad on the charge, bump that up to 20 and the custodes take a a wound or two. But that doesn't actually account for damage that doesn't inhibit combat ability. If the fluff represents this that is fine. The problem is of course on the margins how do you place Elite Marine units in this structure. Inferno has SA equivalents killing marines though so it has me seriously questioning the capabilities of a space marine in context to a human. 

[ronin_cse]

Just some thoughts on the Emperor's augmented super-warriors

 

It seems that the individual might of the Custodes has significantly evolved over the years across different BL/FW

 

Back in the mid to late 2000s when I first startes getting into 40k, I recall people were claiming that Custodes were to SM as SM were to mortals. Some of the Custodes vs. TSon descriptions in Collected Visions seemed to confirm this view, e.g. TSons dying in droves and barely able to touch the Custodes

 

Then came Blood Games by Abnett:

 

 

They were not like custodes at all. Like cousins, perhaps, like kin from the same bloodline, the custodes and the Astartes were similar but distinct. The custodes were the product of an older, formative process, a process, some said, that had been refined and simplified to produce the Astartes en masse. Generally, custodes were larger and more powerful than Astartes, but the differences were only noticeably significant in a few specific cases. No one would be foolish enough to predict the outcome of a contest between an Astartes and a custodes.

 

The greatest differences lay in the mind. Though custodes shared a familial bond through the circles of their order, it was nothing like the keen brotherhood that cemented the Legions of the Astartes. Custodes were far more solitary beings: sentinels, watchmen, destined to stand forever, alone.

 

Custodes did not surround themselves with slaves and servitors, aides and handservants. They armoured themselves, alone, pragmatically, without ceremony.

 

 

The Custodes didn't make much of an appearance until The First Heretic by ADB, where a small, likely elite, group of them displayed impressive skills relative to their Astartes brethren.

 

 

 

Vendatha was already in motion. The golden warrior leapt at the primarch, guardian spear spinning in his fists, an oath to the Emperor on his lips. Four Word Bearers blocked his path, and those four Word Bearers had to die.

 

Rikus was the first to fall. The Custodian’s blade crunched into the soft, jointed armour at the Chaplain’s throat, punching from the back of his neck. Tsar Quorel died next, decapitated with a buzzing sweep of the energised blade, dead before he’d pulled his trigger.

 

Deumos managed to fire a stream of bolt shells, none of which connected. Vendatha weaved left, thudded the base of his spear into the Chapter Master’s bolter, knocking it aside, and followed with a cutting swing that sheared both the Word Bearer’s hands from his body, severing them at the forearms. Deumos had a scarce moment to draw in a stunned gasp before the spear sliced again, this time cleaving through his collarbone and spine, ripping his head free.

 

Vendatha span the blade in his hands, letting it come to rest with the tip and gun barrel aimed at Lorgar’s heart again. Behind the Custodian, the bodies crashed to the ground in slow succession. Three seconds had passed.

 

Argel Tal was picking himself off the floor. Only Xaphen stood between the primarch and his attacker, but the Chaplain had used the scant precious seconds to draw his bolter, which he aimed squarely at Vendatha’s faceplate.

 

‘Hold,’ he warned.

 

. . .

 

Vendatha squeezed the trigger again, but it was too late. Xaphen fired first.

 

Bolt rounds hammered into the Custodian’s golden armour, beating the faceplate and chest out of shape, tearing chunks of plating away as they detonated.

 

 

The First Heretic also provided an interesting lions vs. wolves analogy, which I rather liked . . .

 

 

 

 

Several Word Bearers crouched at the lip of a roof overlooking the street. Argel Tal, Torgal, and the sergeant’s assault squad. The golden warriors moved ahead with consummate grace, the dance of their blades eclipsing anything a mortal could perform.

 

‘I’ve never seen anything like it,’ Torgal said. ‘Should we join them?’

 

From below, a shout rose above the butchery. For the Emperor – a battlecry that hadn’t left a Word Bearer’s lips since Monarchia. Strange, how it sounded almost alien to Argel Tal’s ears.

 

‘No,’ the captain replied. ‘Not yet.’

 

Torgal watched for several more moments, one finger idly stroking his chainword’s trigger. ‘There’s something about the way they fight,’ he said. ‘Some flaw that I can’t make out.

 

 

Argel Tal watched Aquillon, the Custodian’s blade reaving its way through countless lives, and saw nothing of the kind. He said so.

 

Torgal shook his head, still watching. ‘I can’t form the thought. They lack… something. They’re fighting… wrong.’

 

And this time, as soon as Argel Tal returned his gaze to the battle in the street, he saw it instantly. The way the Custodes fought seemed almost identical to the Astartes; it took a trained eye to see the subtle differences. The captain had missed it first by focusing on a single warrior. The moment he took in the full view…

 

‘There,’ said Argel Tal. ‘I see it, too.’

 

Was it a flaw? Perhaps by the standards of the Astartes, who waged war and lived life with brotherhood etched into their genetic codes. But Custodes were the sons of a more rarefied and time-consuming process – the biological manipulation that gave birth to the Emperor’s guardians bred warriors who weren’t shackled by bonds of loyalty to anyone except their Imperial overlord.

 

‘They’re not brothers,’ Argel Tal said. ‘Watch how they move. See how each one fights his own war, alone, unsupported by the others. They’re not like us. These are warriors, not soldiers.’

 

The thought made his skin crawl. It must have had the same effect on Torgal, for he voiced the words on his captain’s mind.

 

‘Lions,’ the sergeant said. ‘They’re lions, not wolves, hunting alone instead of as a pack. Gold,’ he added, and tapped the chestplate of his armour, ‘not grey.’

 

‘Good eyes, brother.’ Argel Tal still stared intently. Now he was aware of the disunity, it was all he could focus on. Here was a weakness, a savage one, masked only by the heroic skills of each warrior and the worthlessness of the enemies they faced.

 

A ripple of unease shivered through him as he bore witness. Those ancient words of the Emperor came to him, that first creed of the Legiones Astartes: And they shall know no fear.

 

Argel Tal was one of those who took the creed in its most literal sense, believing the sensitivity to feel fear was rewritten out of him at the genetic level. But even so, watching these brotherless cousins fight chilled him to his core. They lacked so much, despite their individual perfection.

 

‘In standing free of brotherhood,’ he said, ‘they also sacrifice its strengths. The tactics of a pack. The trust in those who fight by your side. I suspect the secrets woven into their body and blood gene-bind them to a higher loyalty – perhaps their only brother is the Emperor himself.’

 

 

Graham's Outcast Dead seemed to follow Abnett's idea of Custodes not being very substantially superior:

 

 

 

 

Uttam wore the gold armour of a Custodian, the cheek plates of his full-face helm folded back into its layered structure. His features were unmoving and expressionless, the result of a greenskin bacteriological pathogen that had left the upper right quadrant of his face unresponsive to muscle stimulus. His enhanced metabolism had easily purged the toxin, but the after-effects of the injury had reduced his reflexive response times to a level below the minimum required for front line service.

. . .

 

Uttam despised Tagore [a World Eater], he had killed three hundred and fifty nine men before he had been subdued, and that made him almost as dangerous as a Custodian. The soldiers hauled the nutrition dispenser around as Uttam took position in front of the door.

. . .

 

‘I am going to kill you,’ said Tagore of the World Eaters. ‘Rip your spine out through your chest.’

 

From a cross-legged position, Atharva watched the dance of his puppets with a satisfied smile. A tug of thought brought the Uralian Stormlord running towards his cell while Tagore and Custodian Uttam faced off against one another. Time was critical. He couldn’t let the World Eater kill the Custodian or this escape would be over before it began.

 

. . .

 

So long as Tagore didn’t kill Uttam Luna Hesh Udar too soon. Fists and elbows, knees and feet. They fought in a blur of thundering punches, bone-breaking kicks and titanic impacts. Two warriors, crafted to be the pinnacles of fighting men, flew at each other with rage and neuro-cortical implants and the finest genetic manipulation on either side of loyalty.

 

Tagore fought with teeth bared, eyes bulging madness. He fought without heed or thought of restraint, with no care for injury or death. Uttam Luna Hesh Udar fought with precision, grace and exacting killing blows straight from the combat forges of the Legio Custodes.

 

Two warriors of extremes, two warriors primed to deal death in completely different ways.

 

Uttam was armoured, Tagore was bare-skinned and bleeding.

 

The Custodian’s guardian spear lay broken between them, its haft snapped like matchwood in Tagore’s grip. Its blade fizzed and spat in the moisture drizzling from the cavern’s roof. Tagore spun around Uttam, kicking his heel into the back of the Custodian’s knee. Uttam went down with a grunt, catching the follow-up knee to the face in his blocking gauntlets. Uttam twisted his grip, spinning Tagore from his feet. He followed up, foot thundering down to crush the World Eater’s head.

 

Tagore rolled, came up, and punched the side of Uttam’s thigh. Plates cracked and the paralyzing nerve-impact dropped him to one knee. A right cross tore his helmet off and an uppercut threw him onto his back. Tagore scissored himself to his feet and hurled himself at the fallen Custodian. Uttam met his flying leap with a downward-bludgeoning fist that drove Tagore into the ground like a downed Stormbird. Tagore rolled aside from the inevitable head-crushing elbow and sprang to his feet in time to meet the Custodian’s charge.

 

They grappled like street brawlers. Rabbit-punching kidneys, legs locking and unlocking as each warrior sought a hold that would drop their opponent. The iron plates bolted to Tagore’s head spat fat red sparks as it pumped chem-stims and rage boosters into his bloodstream and electrical impulses to the anger centres of his brain. His fury had been building to critical mass ever since his incarceration, and this was just the fight to unleash it.

 

The first advantage went to Uttam. Every blow Tagore struck was against artificer-forged plate, hand shaped in the armouries beneath the Anatolian peaks, where Uttam hammered unprotected flesh. Pure concussive force cracked the bone shield in Tagore’s chest, and he grunted as a piledriver of an uppercut drove up into his gut. The briefest flinch, but an opening nonetheless.

 

Uttam twisted and slammed his elbow

into Tagore’s jaw. Blood and teeth flew from the World Eater’s jaw. Uttam closed for the killing blow, but pain was just another stimulus to a killer like Tagore. The World Eater spat a tooth, and caught Uttam’s fist in one raw meat palm. He caught the other fist mid-punch and smashed his forehead into Uttam’s face. The Custodian’s nose broke, and both cheekbones shattered. Blood blinded him for an instant before he shook his eyes clear of it, but an instant was all Tagore needed.

 

His blooded fist hammered into Uttam’s chest, driven by rage and betrayal.

 

Ceramite shattered, adamantium buckled and bone broke.

 

Tagore bellowed in atavistic triumph as his power, momentum and strength drove his fist deep into the Custodian’s chest. Meat and blood parted before his digging hand until his fingers closed on iron-hard bone.

 

The Custodian’s eyes were wide with

agony, his body still fighting for life even as Tagore ripped it out of him. Tagore spat blood in his face, grinning a manic skull’s grin.

 

‘Still think I make empty threats, Custodian?’ he snarled.

 

Uttam tried to respond, but only managed a horrid sucking noise from his gored chest cavity. Tagore felt bone buckle, crushed beneath his implacable grip. Strong and tough, but not as strong or tough as a sergeant of the World Eaters.

 

 

 

 

Subha fought like Angron in the arena: with fury and unrelenting pressure. He was the perfect foil for Asubha’s careful skill. While an enemy was desperately defending against the flurry of Subha’s terrible blows, Asubha would be striking with cool precision, hunting for the killing blow that would end any opponent’s resistance in a heartbeat.

 

But this fight was not going the way either of them expected.

 

The Custodian repelled Subha without apparent effort, his guardian spear moving with such speed that it was surely impossible. Asubha fired his pistol, but the gold-armoured warrior swayed aside as the shot was fired. His spear spun around and hacked the barrel in two before reversing the blow and hammering the barbed haft into Subha’s stomach. The colossal impact staggered his twin, and Asubha took the opportunity to slash with the long knife he had taken from one of Babu Dhakal’s men.

 

The blade scraped over the Custodian’s shoulder guard and bounced from the cheek plate of his helmet. His foe slammed an elbow into Asubha’s face and he reeled at the power behind the strike. Asubha took a step back to reorient himself as Subha circled around to flank the Custodian.

 

‘I always wanted to fight a Custodian,’ snarled Subha.

 

‘We wondered who would emerge triumphant,’ added Asubha. ‘One of us or one of you?’

 

‘There are two of you,’ pointed out the Custodian.

 

‘True, but the question still stands. Our debates would always end in stalemate, for there can be no true answer without death hanging on the outcome,’ said

Asubha.

 

‘You know the answer. I can see it in your eyes. You know you cannot defeat me.’

 

Asubha laughed and reversed his blade. ‘Tell me your name,’ he said. ‘That we might remember the mighty warrior we slew on Terra.’

 

The Custodian brought his spear around to the guard position. ‘I am Saturnalia Princeps Carthagina Invictus Cronus–’

 

‘Enough!’ barked Subha, launching himself at Saturnalia. His twin still bore the blade snapped from the haft of the Custodian they had killed in the Vault. Though a poor mirror of that wielded by Saturnalia, it was still a deadly weapon in the hands of a World Eater. Saturnalia stepped into the attack, going low and driving his speartip at Subha’s gut. His twin spun aside from the blow, hammering his blade against Saturnalia’s shoulder. A gold plate spun off, but the heavy mail weave beneath sent the edge skidding away before

it could draw blood.

 

Asubha followed up and aimed a thunderous kick towards Saturnalia’s unprotected side. A burnished hip plate crumpled under the impact, and drove Saturnalia to the ground. Asubha thrust with his blade, but the Custodian leaned away from the blow, the tip of the blade scraping a furrow in his helmet’s visor.

 

Saturnalia’s leg swept out in a scything arc, smashing Asubha from his feet. He rolled as he landed, barely avoiding a guillotine-chop of the Custodian’s guardian spear. Asubha was on his feet a moment later, and saw Subha slam his fist into the side of Saturnalia’s red-plumed helm. The Custodian went down hard, but before Subha could press his advantage, he wrenched off his battered helmet and swung it in a punishing arc that smashed into Subha’s jaw with a crunch of breaking bone.

 

Subha toppled backwards, and Asubha threw himself at Saturnalia as he discarded his ruined helm. The two warriors went down in a tangle of powerful limbs, punching, gouging and jabbing with elbows and fists. Asubha rammed his forehead into Saturnalia’s face and grinned as he felt the warrior’s nose shatter. He dug for his knife, pistoning the blade towards

the Custodian’s jaw. Saturnalia blocked the blow with his forearm, and the knife blade drove up through his vambrace and bone. They rolled, and an armoured fist slammed into the side of Asubha’s face.

 

Asubha was thrown clear by the power behind the blow. He spat blood and rose to a crouch, ready to hurl himself at Saturnalia again. All finesse was gone, his fury had taken over and he and his brother were as one. Subha was already on his feet, his lower jaw all but hanging from his skull, but so too was Saturnalia. The Custodian had retrieved his guardian spear and its tip was aimed at Subha’s heart.

 

A pumping barrage of shells exploded from the weapon and Subha rocked back as the explosive bolts tore into him. Each one detonated within his flesh, mushrooming from his back in fans of bright blood and splintered bone. Subha crumpled, the life already vanishing from his eyes as he fell onto his front.

 

‘Now you know,’ said Saturnalia with a

rictus grin of blood.

 

Asubha felt the red rage take him, and though he had always longed for the butcher’s nails, he knew now he did not need them to reach the clarity of undiluted fury. Saturnalia saw the change in him and took a step away. Asubha screamed his brother’s name and threw himself back into the fight.

 

The guardian spear swung out, but Asubha dived beneath its killing arc and swept up Subha’s fallen blade. He slashed twice in quick succession as he rolled upright in one smooth motion. Blood sprayed from the twin cuts through the flexible mail weave at the back of Saturnalia’s knees, and the Custodian fell into a pool of blood, unable to stand, but still able to fight.

 

Asubha circled around to face him, his anger filling him with its purity of purpose.

 

‘You will die here today,’ hissed Saturnalia through his agony. He held his guardian spear before him, and Asubha

took a step forward until the tip was resting on his chest.

 

‘I know that,’ agreed Asubha. ‘But so will you.’

 

Asubha drove his bloodied blade down through Saturnalia’s skull as the Custodian thrust his spear with the last of his strength. The guardian spear clove Asubha’s heart and tore through his lungs, wreaking irreparable damage to his body. Both warriors slumped against one another as though embracing in honour of their fight to the death.

 

Asubha slid to the side and fell beside the body of his twin.

 

As he bled out onto the temple floor, he pressed the broken blade that had ended Saturnalia’s life into his brother’s dead hand.

 

‘We walk the Crimson Path together, brother,’ said Asubha.

 

 

 

In Master of Mankind, ADB presents an alternative view that the Custodes lack of team work may not be such a weakness after all

 

 

 

Each one was an individual among other individuals, trailed by his own artificers and arsenal thralls, the latter of whom reloaded the Custodians’ guardian spears each time a warrior called out.

Their ranks seemed informal, like gestures of respect towards veterans and gifted individuals rather than a command structure to be rigidly adhered to. Few of them, even Tribune Endymion or those who shared Diocletian Coros’ rank of prefect, ever gave orders.

They simply immersed themselves wherever the fighting was thickest, slaughtering in silence.

And yet, there was unity. Unity of purpose, if nothing else. Despite the lack of order and the length of their spinning blades, they never burdened one another or blighted the paths of the other warriors around them. Consummate reflexes far in advance of a legionary’s own genhanced grace gave them a talent that required years for human soldiers, even Space Marines, to learn through repetitive discipline. Yet the Ten Thousand were masters of it. The Archimandrite watched them whirling and killing, their energised blades passing within a hand’s breadth of another golden warrior, yet never once threatening the other Custodian’s life. Each one of them existed within his own sphere, a warlord unto himself.

Nor was that all. The Archimandrite’s observation revealed an inherent defensiveness in the initial blows of each duel. At first this seeming passivity during the first seconds of engagement made little sense, but further analysis showed the truth. Each Custodian spent those precious moments studying his foe, adjusting his fighting style to compensate, then delivering a killing blow. They could simply overpower their enemies immediately with superior strength, speed and armament. Instead, they learned from each and every fight.

 

Ra Endymion exemplified this. He would parry twice or thrice, whether it was sword, axe, fang or claw, following his enemy’s movements with brief flickers of attention, then lashing back to impale, to cleave, to sever. According to the Archimandrite’s datastreams, no legionary had yet lasted more than three blows against his advance.

Bodyguards, the Archimandrite mused. Praetorians. This was their purpose, after all. Not to win wars, but to know their master’s enemies and destroy them before they could do Him harm. How many thousands of hours of pict-footage did the Ten Thousand study from each conquered or compliant world? Their lives surely consisted of an eternity of preparatory devotion, studying enemy after enemy in case they ever faced them in battle, atop the physicality of their standard training.

Their preternatural reactions allowed them to block bolts and lasfire alike, deflecting it from their spinning spears, but they could still be killed. The Archimandrite had witnessed that itself. They could be overwhelmed by foes and dragged down, or gunned down while already engaged

 

 

Do you guys like the idea of Custodes being to SM as SM are to Imperial Army troopers?

 

It seems that's what the latest fluff supports. In FW Inferno, 6,000 nulled TSons get massacred in melee by 500 Custodes led by Valdor. Valdor is hurt and only "scores" of Custodes are badly wounded..and of those, most don't actually die.

 

...or do you prefer Abnett's take or something between the two extremes?

 

As for the Thunder Warriors, I like how they are not just inferior Astartes. They are almost like berserker Ogryn Astartes, physically and mentally flawed but very powerful as close combat brutes.

 

Umm I guess I'm not sure where you're going here. You say at the start that originally Custodes were thought to be almost primarch level. That being the case the early depiction in blood games and in outcast dead are the odd ones out I'd say. If original depictions, MoM, and Inferno show them to be superior to Space Marines then that's an obvious majority that is based on their original lore. First Heretic IMO falls in that line too as the 5 were able to take down quite a few astartes during Istavaan. Keep in mind that when they describe them Custodes as lions compared to wolves that is the Word Bearer's observations, of course they are going consider themselves at least equal.

 

We hear time and time again that each Custode has been personally designed vs the mass produced Astartes and of course they have much better equipment, it makes perfect sense to me that they are more powerful than an Astarte. Considering the fairly clear line from early stuff to Inferno I consider Blood Games and Outcast Dead to be outliers if anything.

 

Also really some of you are bringing up the "make them more powerful to sell models" line? You think A-D-B changed his depiction of Custodes in MoM because GW wanted to sell more models? You think Alan Bligh compromised his vision of The Burning of Prospero in order to sell more models? Personally I don't think even GW prime does stuff like this all that much, IMO there is no way Forge World would change anything to do that.

[Ryltar Thamior]

A few thoughts.

First up, while I really liked some of the ideas in The Outcast Dead [the Crusader Host were very decent as a concept, in particular]; its handling of the fight between Tagore and the impaired Custodes has always seemed somewaht incongruous [as, for that matter, did the name 'Tagore' considering its most famous bearer was a very famous gentle poet, but I digress]. Clearly, some of the Marines attached to the Crusader Host were ... pretty paragonical example of their respective Legions. But even affording for the World Eater in question deriving quite some performance enhancement from the combination of his Nails and cabin-fever (whilst the Custodes is specifically mentioned as being slower and perhaps weaker than his fellows) it still seems somewhat peculiar that he was able to effectively punch THROUGH Custodes-armour [which, as noted above, seems functionally equivalent to Terminator plate, based around in-game characteristics] with his bare hands. 

I'd therefore suggest that the circumstances involved were so ... incredibly unlikely [and, as far as I'm concerned, inadequately explained] as to make that particular combat effectively seriously dubious (if not useless) as a genuine measure of Custodes combat potential. [there are some handwavium means to make the whole thing less eyebrow-raisingly questionable, such as presuming that Atharva is channelling some of his apparently sui generis psychic strength into Tagore's hands or something to make them effectively AP2 quasi-powerfists ... but that's not stated in the text, is it. [Out-of-universe perspective, I think it's another instance of a notable trend within The Outcast Dead towards characters who approach, at times, snowflake-Sue levels of hypercompetency in their respective areas of expertise, of which Atharva is perhaps another example]]

Second, as applies the Marine-Custodes comparisons ... it's worth noting that i) Marines and Custodes are the products of entirely different approaches to creation; and that there therefore ought be no expectation of even rough parity between them simply on the basis that both are the products of Imperial gene-forging. Marines, as we know, take baseline (but still likely to be exceptional) human stock, and then ramp it up to eleven through an ongoing regimen of implating etc.. But we already know that this is a process not optimized to generate 'the Best' results, so much as the outcome of a long-running compromise between speed, safety (relatively speaking), ease of production (and therefore 'numbers'), as well as the inherent limits in the gene-seed itself. 

This leads us on to ii). The fact that we already know, thankns to Deliverance Lost (and, supposedly, Guilliman's plans in the 41st millennium avec Cawl), that Marine geneseed, with some technical improvements, CAN be used to produce substantively better performance even whilst using what's superficially the same organs and processes [subject to alterations resultant from a Primarch's brilliant mind being personally turned to making the best possible use of the gene-resources at hand]. It is a matter of open debate as to why the Emperor et co.'s own efforts with the original Astartes geneseed weren't up to the same standards as Corax's initial crop of Raptors (most probably because the Emperor was running on a rather tight time-schedule vis a vis having a force capable of taking to the stars ready, and just left a few possibilities unexplored or unfinished as other projects demanded his more immediate attention - thus the 'headdroom' for further development was always there but simply unexploited) [wiht a subsidiary consideration tha the later accelerations in timescale and lowering of standards for prospective neophytes may have meant that 'later' generations of Marines just simply weren't quite as good anyway as the original Terrans]; but the point remains that even the basic Astartes template COULD be notably improved. 

While iii) we also know from the limited accounts we have of Thunder Warriors in operation (found in both, again, The Outcast Dead and the Warhounds/World Eaters segment of the relevant FW Black Book) that other gene-templates have been investigated and used to produce different breeds of super-warrior even further superior to baseline Astartes (albeit not without a cost, which may have either beeen an intentional shortcoming [a long-term killswitch of theri bodies giving out, in case they got more out of hand than they were supposed to be], or the product of imperfect knowledge and research, or simple haste o the part of the Emperor et co.). 

Which leads us on to iv) - that the information we have to hand about the process of gene-forging a Custodes would appaer to suggest that the processes and resources which go into producing a single (and it IS single - not the batch-creations of just about every other form of transhuman combatant) Custodes are such that the result is not only qualitatively different to a Marine (so, I would presume, not using the same organs and mechanisms of augmenation, although there may be some overlaps), but better too. At least partially because instead of using 'one-size-fits-all' pre-made organ-implants, the genewrights responsible appear to make direct alterations to the indiviidual Custodian's genetic structure (with all of the greater potential that that implies). This is, obviously, reflected in their in-game physical stats (wherein they are, for the most part, 25% better than a line-marine) - even before we factor in potential differences (superiority, perhaps?) of training and experience [after all, it seems feasible to conclude that the 'average' Custodes winds up living hundreds of years longer than the 'average' Marine in the 31st millenium, even if the Marine might see more combat]. 

Now as for why they're taller ... well, it might in part be so that more musculature can be anchored to their frame; or it might be to give them additional imposing bulk [bodyguards, after all, frequently are selected for being able to intimidate just by standing there - and Napoleon derived his [false] reputatoin for being short due to the preference he had for being surrounded by really, really tall French elite soldiers]. It's probably worth remembering that the way a Marine's supposed dto look in fluff is far 'broader' than an average man of his size would be, even if he's also two feet taller. Perhaps Custodes don't fit this general 'wide-oblong' shape, and instead are bigger almost proportionately along both axes? In addition to this, the Emperor himself is frequently depicted as towering over even Astartes, so perhaps it was thought wise that the folk who'll be forming a living-shield between him an the enemy might also benefit from being similarly oversized for bullet-taking purposes. 

Still, with all of this talking-up, physiological impressiveness, and apparently superior gear, this doesn't make Custodes always-better in all situations. I'm not simply talking about the whole 'not built nor equipped nor trained for taking worlds and systems' thing, either. One of my recollections from The Wolf of Ash and Fire is of the Custodes deployed there alongside the Emperor doing some ... questionable things from a tactical perspective purely because Emperor. I know it's hard-wired into their very DNA to put his life first and all ... but diving off into a fairly massive abyss and taking yourself out on protruding pylons etc. on the way down doesn't exactly seem the most sensible thing to do - particularly if the sudden departure-en-masse of Custodes from the battlefield down the aforementioned hole [which, to be fair, the Justaerin in the same story ALSO do after their primarch) may create a dangerously unbalanced situation for an Imperial army including Custodes amidst their number. [having said that, if the Emperor hasn't taken to the field himself, then this particular bull-headed tactical tendency doesn't appear to crop up. Which is fortunate]. 

Anyway, I've probably gone on for long enough. 

If it comes down to picking out which Custodes depiction from the novels best matches how I'd envisage the Custodes operating and their combat capabilities ... I think it's the wrong question to be asking to just look at how killy they are versus Marines [which appears to be a thanklessly shifting standard anyway, dependent upon the writer]. Instead, it's all about the approach. 

And for that, for my money, Abnett's Blood Games wins hands down. 

Not because it shows Custodes as being better or on par with Astartes (I'm inclined to disregard a strict-literal reading of the comment about them being 'the same but different' or whatever, anyway). But instead, because it shows Custodes actually using some of their most important assets - their intellects and creativity - to protect their Liege. Whehter data-analysis, 'diplomatic' representation, the actual infiltration etc. involved inthe Blood Game (and the game itself) or any of the rest of it.

THAT'S the appropriate measure of their capabilities. Not whether they can arm-wrestle a plot-armoured World Eater.