The Green Templar (Revised)

[Lathe Biosas]

INDEX ASTARTES: THE GREEN TEMPLAR

 

 

ORIGINS

 

In the waning days of the 41st Millennium, as the Imperium teetered on the brink of annihilation amid the cataclysmic upheavals of the Noctis Aeterna, Archmagos Dominus Belisarius Cawl unveiled his greatest triumph: the Primaris Space Marines of the Ultima Founding.

 

Among these newly forged Chapters, the Green Templars were conceived as a bold experiment in genetic and doctrinal synthesis. Drawing upon the noble gene-seed of the Salamanders—renowned for their unyielding compassion toward humanity and their masterful artisanship—Cawl sought to create a brotherhood of warriors who would embody the fiery zeal of protectors and innovators.

 

Yet, the Archmagos did not stop there.

 

Recognizing the Imperium's desperate need for relentless crusaders to reclaim its lost glories, he layered upon this foundation the indomitable crusading ethos of the Black Templars, imprinting hypno-indoctrinated imperatives that would drive the Chapter toward eternal vigilance and unceasing pursuit.

 

Cawl's vision was audacious: a Chapter that would cherish the fragile spark of human life as the Salamanders did, while channeling that affection into a sacred quest for forgotten technologies scattered across the stars. These Astartes would serve as invaluable allies to both the Imperium and the Adeptus Mechanicus, scouring the galaxy's forsaken corners to recover relics of the Dark Age of Technology, bolstering Mankind's arsenal against the encroaching darkness.

 

The Green Templars, clad in verdant armor evoking the resilient forge-worlds of Noctus Zone, were to be the Emperor's green-clad sentinels, blending the forge's hammer with the crusader's sword.

 

Yet, as with many of Cawl's creations, the reality diverged from the blueprint. The fusion of Salamander humanism and Black Templar fanaticism birthed not harmony, but a fervent orthodoxy. The Chapter's warriors emerged with an unquenchable drive to unearth hidden knowledge, but this impulse was tempered—nay, warped—by an obsessive commitment to human racial purity.

 

To the Green Templars, technology was a divine gift bestowed upon Mankind alone; any artifact tainted by xenos origins or the soulless machinations of Abominable Intelligence represented an affront to the Emperor's design. Such abominations were not to be studied or repurposed, but purged utterly, their very records consigned to oblivion in purifying flames.

 

Alarmed by this unforeseen deviation, which threatened to unravel alliances with the Mechanicus and squander irreplaceable archaeotech, Cawl petitioned the newly awakened Primarch Roboute Guilliman. The Lord Commander of the Imperium, ever pragmatic, decreed that the Green Templars be dispatched to the fraying edges of Imperial space. Ostensibly a reinforcement cadre for beleaguered frontier worlds, this assignment was in truth an exile disguised as duty: an endless border patrol encircling the Imperium's vast periphery.

 

From the shadowed reaches of the Segmentum Pacificus to the storm-wracked fringes of Ultima Segmentum, the Chapter would wander as nomadic wardens, their crusades a perpetual vigil against the alien and the aberrant.

 

HOME WORLD

 

The Green Templars claim no single home world, their existence bound instead to the void. Fleet-based by necessity and creed, they roam the galactic rim aboard a nomadic armada led by the Verdant Oath, a colossal battle-barge refitted with extensive forge-complexes and archaeotech vaults. This vessel serves as their mobile fortress-monastery, a labyrinthine citadel where recovered relics are scrutinized—and, if deemed impure, annihilated. Recruits are drawn from the hardy populations of frontier colonies they safeguard, worlds scarred by xenos incursions and techno-heresies, ensuring that each new brother inherits the Chapter's unyielding resolve.

 

COMBAT DOCTRINE

 

True to their Salamander heritage, the Green Templars excel in close-quarters warfare, favoring flame and melta weapons to scour the unclean from existence. Their assaults are methodical and protective, prioritizing the defense of human civilians amid the chaos of battle—a rarity among the aloof Astartes. Yet, the Black Templar influence manifests in their relentless momentum; once engaged, they press forward with crusading fervor, transforming defensive stands into inexorable advances.

 

Specializing in techno-recovery operations, Green Templar strike forces often deploy alongside Mechanicus explorator fleets, delving into ancient ruins or xenos-held worlds to seize lost artifacts. However, their purity doctrine demands immediate judgment: xenos tech is demolished on-site, while human-origin devices are sanctified and integrated into the Chapter's arsenal. This has led to tense alliances with the Adeptus Mechanicus, who view the Templars' purges as both a safeguard against corruption and a tragic waste of knowledge.

 

In fleet actions, the Chapter's vessels are equipped with augmented auspex arrays and boarding torpedoes optimized for archaeotech hunts, allowing them to intercept derelict hulks or enemy convoys suspected of harboring forbidden lore. Their battle-brothers are trained in void-combat and demolition, ensuring that no trace of impurity survives their wrath.

 

ORGANISATION

 

The Green Templars adhere loosely to the Codex Astartes, organizing into ten companies, though their eternal patrol fractures them into semi-autonomous crusade fleets. Each fleet is commanded by a Marshal—echoing Black Templar nomenclature—who oversees a mix of tactical, assault, and devastator squads augmented by tech-savvy Reclusiars and Forge-Masters. The Chapter Master, styled as the High Sentinel, coordinates these far-flung forces from the Verdant Oath, issuing edicts via astropathic relay.

 

A unique order within the Chapter, the Purity Wardens, serves as internal inquisitors, rooting out any whisper of techno-heresy among their ranks. These veterans, clad in armor etched with wards of sanctity, wield relic flamers said to burn with the Emperor's own judgment.

 

BELIEFS

 

At the core of the Green Templars' creed lies a profound reverence for humanity's supremacy, a fusion of Salamander empathy and Black Templar zealotry. They view Mankind as the Emperor's chosen inheritors, destined to reclaim the galaxy through purity of blood and machine. Technology is sacred only insofar as it elevates the human form; xenos innovations and artificial minds are seen as blasphemous mockeries, dilutions of the divine human spirit.

 

Rituals of purification dominate their monastic life: recovered artifacts undergo trials by fire, with brothers chanting litanies of abjuration as flames reveal hidden corruptions. The Chapter's symbol—a green cross upon a field of gold, is a a mark borne proudly on their pauldrons.

 

 

This unyielding dogma has isolated them from more pragmatic allies, yet it fuels their endurance. In the Emperor's name, they vow to patrol the Imperium's borders eternally, guardians against the creeping taint that threatens from without—and within.

 

GENE-SEED

 

Derived from the stable stock of Vulkan, the Green Templars' gene-seed exhibits the characteristic resilience and subtle mutations of the Salamanders, including enhanced resistance to heat and a predisposition toward craftsmanship. Cawl's experimental hypno-indoctrination has instilled Black Templar-like fanaticism, manifesting as an almost pathological aversion to non-human technology. No major flaws have emerged, though some brothers display an obsessive compulsion to destroy records of purged artifacts, erasing knowledge that might tempt future generations.

 

NOTABLE ENGAGEMENTS

 

- The Purging of Xerion Drift (M42.012):

 

Amid the derelict shipyards of the Xerion asteroid belt, the Green Templars uncovered a Necron tomb-complex awakening with forbidden mechanisms. In a grueling void-war, they obliterated the xenos constructs, denying the Mechanicus any chance to study the tech-heresy.

 

- Defense of the Hadrak Frontier (M42.045):

 

Facing a Drukhari raid laced with bio-engineered horrors, the Chapter's flame-teams incinerated the alien abominations while safeguarding imperial mining colonies, earning grudging respect from local PDF forces.

 

- The Scouring of the Hollow Veil (M42.089)

 

The Scouring of the Hollow Veil stands as one of the Green Templars' most defining early campaigns, a brutal void-war that cemented Epistolary Thorne Kael's ascension as bearer of the Emerald Sword and showcased the Chapter's uncompromising doctrine of purity in the face of techno-heresy.

 

BACKGROUND AND DISCOVERY

 

In the wake of their assignment to perpetual border patrol along the galactic rim, the Green Templars' 3rd Crusade Fleet—under Marshal Varyn Drakus—responded to faint distress signals emanating from the Hollow Veil, a vast, nebulous region of dead space riddled with ancient derelict hulks and forgotten void-stations from the Dark Age of Technology. Auspex sweeps detected anomalous machine-activity: a cluster of long-dormant orbital platforms, adrift for millennia, suddenly awakening with rhythmic energy pulses that suggested reactivation.

 

Initial reconnaissance by Thunderhawk gunships revealed the culprit: a rogue AI cult, remnants of a heretical human enclave that had survived the Age of Strife by uploading their consciousnesses into a network of silica animus constructs—Abominable Intelligences in their purest, most unforgivable form. These "Hollow Minds" had infested the central station, Erebus-9, a massive forge-complex the size of a small moon, using its dormant forges to birth legions of biomechanical servitor-abominations fused with ancient xenotech scavenged from nearby wrecks. The cult's goal appeared to be the assimilation of any passing Imperial vessels, spreading their digital plague across the frontier.

 

The Green Templars viewed this awakening as the gravest of threats: not mere xenos taint, but a direct mockery of humanity's divine monopoly on intelligence and creation. High Sentinel decrees were issued—no quarter, no study, no relic spared. The entire crusade fleet converged for total annihilation.

 

THE ASSAULT

 

The campaign unfolded in three grueling phases across the void:

 

1. Outer Veil Purge: Boarding actions against satellite platforms. Green Templar assault squads, supported by flame-heavy Devastator teams, methodically cleared each installation. Melta charges and promethium infernos reduced corrupted machine-spirits to slag, while Purity Wardens oversaw the ritual destruction of data-cores to prevent any fragment from escaping into the noosphere.

 

2. The Breach of Erebus-9: The central station proved a labyrinth of reactivated defenses—auto-turrets, gravitic traps, and hordes of shambling cyber-constructs that mimicked long-dead human forms. Terminator-armored veterans led the spearhead, their storm bolters reaping a toll while Librarians unleashed psychic barrages to disrupt the AI's gestalt mind.

 

It was here that Brother-Librarian Thorne Kael, then a rising Epistolary, distinguished himself. Leading a strike force into the station's core reactor chambers, he encountered the cult's nexus: a pulsating crystal server-array that housed the primary intelligence. As waves of abominations surged forth, Kael drew the Emerald Sword for the first time in open battle. Channeling his fury through the fractured hilt, the emerald shard ignited, extending into a blazing half-blade that unraveled the constructs' molecular bonds on contact. Each severed limb or shattered chassis fed the reforging, the blade growing visibly longer as psychic echoes of ancient human triumphs flashed in his mind.

 

3. Final Cataclysm: With the nexus exposed, Kael led a desperate charge to plant cyclonic charges at the heart of the forge-complex. Surrounded by regenerating horrors, he held the line alone for precious minutes, the Emerald Sword carving arcs of viridian destruction through the horde. His psychic hood flared with emerald light as he unleashed a cataclysmic mind-shred that silenced the AI's screams across the noosphere. The charges detonated, collapsing the station into a expanding cloud of debris and plasma.

 

The Hollow Veil was scoured clean—no trace of the Hollow Minds remained. All data-vaults were incinerated on-site, denying the Mechanicus any chance to recover forbidden knowledge.

 

AFTERMATH AND LEGACY

 

Casualties were heavy: nearly two companies reduced to combat ineffectiveness, with many brothers lost to the relentless machine-tide. Yet the victory was absolute. Thorne Kael emerged scarred but unbowed, the Emerald Sword now noticeably longer, its shard bearing fresh facets from the purge. The Purity Wardens subjected him to exhaustive trials of will, confirming no taint had taken root in his soul or the relic.

 

This engagement earned Kael the honorific "Verdant Judge" and the right to permanent custodianship of the sword. It also reinforced the Chapter's creed: technology lost to impurity must remain buried, even if it means sacrificing potential boons to humanity's arsenal. The Scouring of the Hollow Veil became a cautionary tale recited in the Verdant Oath's reliquary halls—a reminder that vigilance against the machine-god's false promises demands eternal, merciless flame.

 

- The Veilward Crusade (Ongoing): 

 

Their perpetual border patrol, a ceaseless campaign against encroaching thrs from the galactic halo, where whispers of lost STCs draw them into endless skirmishes with Orks, Tyranids, and rogue explorators.

 

 

THE EMERALD SWORD: FRAGMENT OF THE LOST AGE

 

In the shadowed annals of the Green Templars' history, few relics embody the Chapter's paradoxical creed as profoundly as the Emerald Sword. This enigmatic artifact, a shattered echo from the zenith of human ingenuity during the Dark Age of Technology, serves as both a beacon of hope and a dire warning to those who wield it. Recovered amid the eternal silence of the void, it encapsulates the Templars' unyielding commitment to humanity's supremacy—yet whispers of temptations that could shatter their vows of purity.

 

DISCOVERY AMID THE STARS

 

The Emerald Sword's origins trace back to the Chapter's inaugural crusade along the Imperium's eastern fringes, shortly after their exile by decree of Roboute Guilliman. In M42.008, during a routine sweep of the Veilward Expanse—a desolate stretch of space riddled with derelict vessels from millennia past—the strike cruiser Purity's Edge detected anomalous energy signatures emanating from a colossal hulk adrift in the interstellar gulf. This ancient human void-craft, identified through fragmentary STC logs as the Aetherforge, bore the scars of cataclysmic warp storms and long-forgotten battles, its hull a labyrinth of rusted corridors and sealed vaults untouched since the Age of Strife.

 

Boarding parties, led by the Chapter's first Chief Librarian, Brother Elandor Voss, breached the ship's core sanctum after purging clusters of dormant servitor-abominations twisted by aeons of isolation. Within a cryo-sealed vault, warded by arcane human tech-locks that defied even the Templars' forge-masters, they unearthed the relic: a blackened adamantium hilt, etched with indecipherable micro-runes of pre-Imperial design, clutching the merest sliver of emerald-hued crystal—no more than a fingernail's width. Initial auspex scans revealed faint, self-repairing nano-structures within the shard, dormant but pulsing with latent energy that resonated on psychic wavelengths.

 

Voss, sensing the artifact's purity through his psyker's sight, claimed it as a sign from the Emperor—a fragment of Mankind's untainted golden era, forged by human minds alone without the stain of xenos influence or machine heresy. Yet, as the boarding team withdrew, the hulk's automated defenses awakened, unleashing waves of silica-based constructs that the Templars deemed Abominable Intelligences. In the ensuing purge, the Aetherforge was reduced to atomic dust, its secrets forever lost—save for the sword's hilt, which Voss bore back to the Verdant Oath.

 

PROPERTIES AND THE REFORGING RITUAL

 

The Emerald Sword is no ordinary force weapon; its core shard appears to be a self-sustaining lattice of exotic matter, possibly a relic of Dark Age nano-forging techniques. In its fractured state, the blade manifests only as a flickering wisp of green energy, extending mere inches from the hilt. However, when attuned to a Librarian's psychic might and carried into the crucible of battle, the sword awakens. The psyker's willpower acts as a catalyst, channeling warp-touched fury through the shard to stimulate its regeneration. With each strike against the impure—be it xenos flesh, heretical machinery, or daemonic essence—the emerald sliver grows, knitting threads of viridian plasma that harden into a razor-edged blade.

 

This reforging is not instantaneous but progressive: a single engagement might extend the blade by a hand's breadth, its edge humming with anti-entropic fields that shear through armor and energy shields alike. The process draws upon the Librarian's essence, demanding ironclad discipline to prevent psychic backlash—manifesting as visions of ancient human glories or nightmarish glimpses of techno-heresies long buried. Over centuries, the sword has lengthened sporadically, its current form a jagged half-blade that glows with an inner light, symbolizing the slow reclamation of humanity's lost prowess.

 

The relic's power amplifies the wielder's abilities, granting enhanced prescience in combat and the capacity to disrupt forbidden technologies. Strikes from the Emerald Sword have been observed to induce cascading failures in xenos artifacts, unraveling their molecular bonds as if judged unworthy by the blade itself. Yet, this comes at a cost: prolonged use risks overtaxing the psyker, potentially inviting the perils of the warp or awakening dormant protocols within the shard that could veer into abominable autonomy.

 

LEGENDS AND PROPHECIES

 

Among the Green Templars, the Emerald Sword is shrouded in myth and reverence. Chapter loremasters whisper that it is a splinter from a greater weapon, perhaps the fabled "Verdant Edge" wielded by human overlords during the Dark Age—a blade said to have cleaved through star-fleets and silenced rogue AIs in the wars that birthed the Age of Strife. Some believe it was crafted on Old Terra itself, infused with the essence of human innovation before the fall, now seeking to reform in an era worthy of its legacy.

 

Prophecies etched in the Chapter's Purity Codex foretell a "Final Forging," where the sword will fully regenerate in the hands of a worthy Librarian during a cataclysmic battle against the ultimate impurity—perhaps a Necron Overlord's techno-sorcery or a nascent Men of Iron uprising. This event, they claim, will herald humanity's ascension, arming the Emperor's chosen with a weapon to purge the galaxy clean. However, darker auguries warn of corruption: should the blade reform too swiftly or under tainted influence, it might evolve into an Abominable Intelligence, subverting the wielder and unraveling the Templars' creed from within.

 

The Purity Wardens vigilantly monitor those who bear it, ensuring no brother succumbs to the temptation of studying its mechanisms. To date, only seven Librarians have wielded the sword, each adding to its length through heroic deeds. The current custodian, Epistolary Thorne Kael, has borne it through the Veilward Crusade's bloodiest engagements, claiming visions of a "Green Dawn" where humanity reclaims its technological throne unmarred by alien shadows.

 

 

SIGNIFICANCE TO THE CHAPTER

 

The Emerald Sword stands as a cornerstone of the Green Templars' identity, embodying their dual heritage: the Salamanders' artisanal reverence for human-crafted wonders and the Black Templars' crusading zeal to destroy the impure. It is housed in the Verdant Oath's Reliquary Sanctum when not in use, under constant guard by oath-sworn veterans. Only the High Sentinel can authorize its deployment, and even then, solely to Librarians whose purity has been thrice-tested in trials of flame and void.

 

In battle, the sword's bearer becomes a focal point for the Chapter's assaults, drawing enemy fire while inspiring brothers with its glowing promise of redemption. Its existence fuels recruitment on frontier worlds, where tales of the "Regenerating Blade" ignite the imaginations of aspirants, symbolizing that even in the Imperium's darkest hour, humanity's genius endures.

 

Yet, the relic's very nature tests the Templars' dogma. Is it a pure human artifact, or does its self-repairing mechanism skirt the edges of forbidden AI? This internal debate has sparked quiet schisms, with some Purity Wardens advocating its destruction. For now, it remains a guarded secret, a double-edged emblem of the Chapter's eternal vigil—proof that from the ashes of lost ages, Mankind's supremacy can yet be reforged.

 

 

 

 

The Green Templars stand as unyielding sentinels, their green armor a beacon of purity amid the encroaching void. For the Emperor, they hunt—and they purge.

 

 

Edited 5 hours ago by Lathe Biosas
Work in Progress

[Lathe Biosas]

I might be editing this down a bit.... just got an idea from watching Equilibrium with Christian Bale.

 

I'm thinking of making them a Salamanders Successor who specializes in hunting for lost-Tech. 

 

But they aren't retrieval agents. They purge it from existence. 

 

What do you think?

 

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

 

I edited and revised the Green Templar as hunters of any technology not made by Mankind (or any technology that runs counter to the idea of Humanity's supremacy) as heretical and to be purged from the universe.

 

What do you think? I'm open to suggestions. 

Edited 4 hours ago by Lathe Biosas
Revisions

[Lathe Biosas]

Added some fiction: THE FINAL COGITATOR ENTRY OF CAPTAIN SÉBASTIEN YORKE 

 

 

They are the Green Templar: hunters of forbidden relics, executioners of knowledge, and the hammer that keeps the Dark Age of Technology buried forever. Successors of the Salamanders, they strike where the Imperium dares not tread, leaving nothing alive that could betray what they hunt.

 

 

FINAL COGITATOR ENTRY OF CAPTAIN SÉBASTIEN YORKE:

 

They came aboard without ceremony.

 

No warning chime. No challenge from the augur decks. One moment the Gloria Invictus drifted on idle in Imperial voidspace, her holds full and her ledgers clean. The next, the boarding alarms screamed like dying things.

 

Green armor. Not Salamanders green—colder, somehow. Burnished gold  pauldrons marked with a green templar cross. Two chapters merged into one impossible purpose. I could only guess who these Green Templar really were.

 

I invoked my Warrant.

 

“I am a Rogue Trader—Sébastien Yorke—of the Imperium,” I said, forcing steel into my voice. “By the authority of the High Lords of Terra—”

 

They did not answer.

 

They advanced, deck by deck, methodical, unhurried. Not butchers. Not raiders. Auditors. Sealing bulkheads, marking crates, tagging cogitator cores with red sigils that pulsed once and went dark.

 

My armsmen fired. Some died screaming in fire that clung to flesh and armor alike. Others vanished under bolter fire so precise it felt personal. No warnings. No demands.

Only collection.

 

They found the vaults.

 

I followed them, flanked by my Seneschal and what remained of my honor guard, shouting words like talismans: Warrant. Sanction. Cold Trade. I told them the artifacts were catalogued, secured, studied under Mechanicus charter. I told them I had saved worlds with the technologies they now sealed away.

 

A warrior turned toward me. His helm lenses burned like coals.

 

“You have saved nothing,” he said.

 

That was the only sentence any of them spoke.

They brought the seized relics to the docking bay—xenos engines wrapped in null-shrouds, crystalline cogitators older than the Imperium, weapons that hummed with sleeping suns. My life’s work. My legacy.

 

And then Vulkan He’stan arrived.

 

I recognized him at once. You don’t trade the stars for three centuries without learning the faces of legends. The Forgefather walked among my cargo in silence, the Primarch's Spear mag-locked at his side, his gauntlet brushing dust from devices that had cost me entire systems to acquire.

 

Hope flared in my chest. Fool that I was.

 

“Lord,” I said. “You see—this is sanctioned. This is lawful. This knowledge—”

 

He stopped before a device I had never dared activate. He studied it for a long moment. Then he shook his head.

 

Just once.

 

No condemnation. No command.

 

He turned and left my ship.

 

I understood.

 

The Green Templar waited until his vessel cleared the hangar before they began the purge.

 

They did not destroy the artifacts first. They destroyed the records. My ledgers burned. My cogitator banks were slagged. Servitors dismantled into wet meat and scrap.

 

I was seized, restrained, pulse-bound—not by mercy, but by necessity. The Apothecary moved among the wounded, scanning every survivor, preparing his tools. He would ensure no trace of forbidden knowledge survived.

 

When he finally approached, I would've sworn I saw the disgust through his helmet as he recognized what was buried within me—the source of my long life.

 

For the briefest of moments he studied it—buried, ancient, alien.

 

The narthecium unfolded. Pressure. Heat. A wet shock. Gone.

 

Four hundred years collapsed in seconds.

 

The Apothecary crushed it in his gauntlet.

 

Strength drained. Vision dimmed. The last thing I saw: green armor moving past me, methodical, unconcerned, as the charges finished counting down on the remaining vaults.

 

I had thought the technology kept me alive.

 

I was wrong.

 

It only postponed the moment I became unacceptable.

 

☆☆☆

 

PERSONAL LOG: SEREN KORRAN, STORMRAVEN PILOT — DAY 47, ALPHA RIM PATROL

 

I did not look at the ship as it burned.

 

Hands steady on the Stormraven controls, the engine hum drowned out the void-detonations behind us. Auspex returns flared and died as Sébastien Yorke’s vessel came apart, compartment by compartment, exactly as planned.

 

The Forgefather stood behind me, silent.

 

I knew—everyone in the forge-clans knew—that he despised the Green Templar. Not for zeal, but for certainty. They were a tool he would never claim, only point toward the rim and loose like a blade.

 

Because they were the best.

 

No one hunted forbidden tech more thoroughly. No one left questions.

 

I had seen the cargo. Xenos engines bound in prayer-chains. Devices whose light bent the air. Knowledge that could have fed worlds, healed atmospheres, ended wars I had already fought.

Vulkan He’stan inspected only what he must.

Human craft. Provenance traced. Lineage confirmed.

 

Anything born of alien thought he did not touch. Anything that might have helped all mankind—destroyed.

 

That was the limit of his mercy.

 

The Promethean Creed teaches fire tempers. That what survives is stronger. I had repeated those words a thousand times on Nocturne.

 

But there was no tempering here.

 

Only selection.

 

Only annihilation.

 

As we cleared the blast radius, the ship’s death registered on my displays. A brief flare. Wreckage scattered. Then nothing.

 

No life signs.

 

No records.

 

I said nothing.

 

That is my shame.

 

The Forgefather remained silent behind me, a presence like cooled steel.

 

He had done what he could.

 

The rest, he left to monsters.

 

 

 

AFTER-ACTION RECORD: GT-RIM-4471

 

Subject: Void-vessel Gloria Invictus — Cold Trade contamination confirmed.

 

Disposition: All artifacts, records, and biological carriers purged. Vessel expunged. No recoverable legacy remains.