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Era Of Fiery Suns - OOC Thread
- Thread starter Puppernickel
- Start date
- OOC Sci-Fi
Primarch Theoderic, and the Groundbreakers
- Location
- Chicago, USA
Groundbreakers
Primarch Sheet <a href="https://docs.google.com/document/d/1NTDY_FASLQBwwSLAHJ0QClnBx0Vl1k7bXPwoDKlamUU/edit?usp=sharing">Theoderic, The Resolute</a>,Perks,Veterans,400 Inspired,300 Lys, Dead World (War World),Explorer,200 Vices,Virtues,Unified Legion,300 Curious,Focused,Ancient Equipment,200 Me...
Theoderic was unfortunate enough to crash into the war-torn world of Lys, a planet that had been gripped by all-out civil war for some time, claiming millions of lives in its desperate conflict. The primarch became just one more life irreparably harmed by the constant entrenchment and rolling artillery barrages, landing amongst one of the warring factions and quickly finding himself conscripted into a conflict he had no desire to join. Theoderic was created to be a gentle soul who valued creativity and ingenuity, but his natural talents were instead forcibly employed to assist with further bloodletting. Instead of crafting beautiful works of art, he was put to work forging great weapons of war; instead of directing a choir, he was tasked with organizing the next nighttime raid; and instead of waving beautiful poems, he was to draft up plans of attack. The Emperor took his time in finding his lost son, a fact which sadly forced the primarch to engage in mindless slaughter much to his great torment. Once the Emperor did arrive, what hope Theoderic felt was quickly squashed when he realized he was simply trading one battlefield for another, a jaded soldier being sent to kill once more.
Theoderic and the Groundbreakers
Lys was a world like any other in the human empire, a piece in a well-connected machine that played its part in continuing Humanity’s dominance. What set Lys apart from many other worlds was its two main exports: weapons and soldiers wielding them. The world was organized as a recruiting ground ...
docs.google.com
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Primarch Imil, and the Prometheans (See Primarch Ofimil for Twin)
WELL ENOUGH ALONE...
(Twin app with @Mortis Nuntius)
(Twin app with @Mortis Nuntius)
Name: Imil
World: Uzov, Ruined world
Flaws: Curious, secretive, distant, slothful, addictive, apathetic
Virtues: Patient, Intelligent
Legion name: The Prometheans
Legion speciality: Forging, mechanized combat, decapitation strike (-600)
Legion strength: Full (-200)
Legion enemy: Assorted xenos
Legion elite: Techmarines
Legion flagship: Gloriana, Solace
Legion navy: Large (-100)
Primarch role: Primarch
Auxilliares ground: Medium (-200)
Aux type: Basic military unit (-100)
Titan aux: Imperator (-500)
Auxiliares space: Minor
Primarch perks: Twin primarch, master fighter, revealed lore, advanced home, home world STC (-1200)
Legion Perks: Ally: Mechanicum Progression, legion vault, veterans (-1000)
Primarch flaws: Shattered homeworld, divided loyalties, latent psyker, flawed, tampered with (+1800)
Legion flaws: Affliction: Fiends, rival(Kromer), dishonored legion (+700)
Legion heroes: x4 (-100)
First Captain Alanor
Specialties: Leadership, champion (-400)
Traits: General (-300)
Perks: Expert: Leadership, veteran, honored, dauntless (-900)
Flaws: Rival x2 (+600)
Bio: Once the Legion Master, Alanor gained a reputation for even-headedness under intense pressure, no-nonsense leadership, and continuing her legions trend of open favor to the Mechanicum. It is a trait that has served her well when the legion found the twin primarchs Imil and Ofimil. While initially joyful at the reunion like the rest of the legion, Alanor has developed her own reservations about the new lords of the legion. While still deeply loyal, as any astartes would be, Imil's own nigh on lazy approach to command has seen Alanor hold onto much of her previous duties, while Ofimil's attention seeking antics and general tendancy to abandon the Solace at the first opportunity often leaves the First Captains stuck right between the sisters as they but heads. Still, the authority of both primarchs is without dispute, even if it has been made abundantly clear that Imil is the one more interested in the traditional role of the Emperor's children.
Karna, Chief-Librarian
Specialties: Leadership (-200)
Traits: Psyker (-300)
Perks: Relic wargear, talented (-800)
Flaws: Rival (+300)
Bio:
To be born with a connection to the psychic arts is rarely a gift.
Still, Karna has done better than most in controlling her talents and directing it towards useful ends. She does not stand among the greats of her kind, capable of commanding the warp with such ease as to inspire jealousy, but nor is she some undisciplined whelp one bad day away from accidentally engulfing herself in warpfire. Karna has proven an even hand as Chief-Librarian, doing her utmost to ensure that her students keep to Truth and discipline, while maintaining the cohesion of the legion. Indeed, she finds herself often in Primarch Imils presence, attempting to soothe the psychic visions and hallucinations that constantly plague her Lady Mother.
While Karna has butted heads with some, she is nevertheless a patient, almost kind person, who takes due care to collect and preserve knowledge in all its forms.
Ulvi, Forge-Lord
Specialties: Technology (-300)
Traits: N/A
Perks: Master: Technology, charismatic, intelligent, bionics, experienced (-1200)
Flaws: Maimed, rogue (+500)
Bio: Ulvi has been with the legion since its forging.
She has seen the Imperium grow, primarchs reunited with their legions, and legion masters come and go. She has seen ancient wonders and bleak horrors, and watched as the galaxy was pulled from the dark, inch by bloody inch. Ulvi's influence over the legion has seen an alignment towards the Mechanicum early on within the Great Crusade, and was a further proponent of the 'Progression' faction within the halls of the Mechanicum and the legion itself. Kind, and possessing an almost grandmotherly demeanor, one mustn't be fooled and underestimate the lengths she's willing to go to in order to get what she wants.
Ulvi is, save for Imil herself, the soul most experienced with Ofimil, often doting on the younger primarch like she would a granddaughter.
Sava the Lightning-Kissed
Specialities: Champion (-200)
Traits: Duelist (-100)
Perks: Master: Champion, veteran, talented, bionics, dauntless (-1400)
Flaws: Maimed, rival (+700)
Bio: Once, Sava was the shining star of the legion.
There was not a soul she could not best with the blade, nor was there anyone would could match her sharp wit. Her rise through the legion was meteoric, and soon she found herself not only on Lady Imil's personal bodyguard, but actively leading them. At the primarchs side, victory, honor, and glory were all hers time and time again. An endless challenge worthy of her skills. But in Imil's shadow, she could rise no further. Despite her love of her mother, Sava found herself growing frustrated with Imil's own disinterest in the Great Crusade, viewing the lip service she paid to the Imperial Truth with a growing disdain. Even throwing herself into the pursuit of even greater perfection yielded only sour failures. It was bitter and intolerable, and she found herself looking for other ways to advance her skills.
This path took her to Ofimil.
The younger twin almost immediately proved more dynamic and focused than Imil, if at times clumsy and overager. Sava's skills under Ofimil began to advance once more, helped by the simple fact that the younger twin was willing to duel with the captain, and resoundingly proving again and again that despite her more affable nature, she was still a primarch. While Ofimil was delighted to have Sava around, the captain found her own rough edges being worn off by Ofimils excitable nature, and Sava often accompanied the younger primarch on her adventures off the Solace, sanctioned or not. It was at one of these where she received her injuries, protecting the distracted Ofimil from an ambush, blacking out in the process, and waking to the news that the primarch had carried her out of the battle while fighting the assaulting creations one handed.
Today Sava stands as Ofimils unofficial second and equerry within the Prometheans.
Specialties: Leadership, champion (-400)
Traits: General (-300)
Perks: Expert: Leadership, veteran, honored, dauntless (-900)
Flaws: Rival x2 (+600)
Bio: Once the Legion Master, Alanor gained a reputation for even-headedness under intense pressure, no-nonsense leadership, and continuing her legions trend of open favor to the Mechanicum. It is a trait that has served her well when the legion found the twin primarchs Imil and Ofimil. While initially joyful at the reunion like the rest of the legion, Alanor has developed her own reservations about the new lords of the legion. While still deeply loyal, as any astartes would be, Imil's own nigh on lazy approach to command has seen Alanor hold onto much of her previous duties, while Ofimil's attention seeking antics and general tendancy to abandon the Solace at the first opportunity often leaves the First Captains stuck right between the sisters as they but heads. Still, the authority of both primarchs is without dispute, even if it has been made abundantly clear that Imil is the one more interested in the traditional role of the Emperor's children.
Karna, Chief-Librarian
Specialties: Leadership (-200)
Traits: Psyker (-300)
Perks: Relic wargear, talented (-800)
Flaws: Rival (+300)
Bio:
To be born with a connection to the psychic arts is rarely a gift.
Still, Karna has done better than most in controlling her talents and directing it towards useful ends. She does not stand among the greats of her kind, capable of commanding the warp with such ease as to inspire jealousy, but nor is she some undisciplined whelp one bad day away from accidentally engulfing herself in warpfire. Karna has proven an even hand as Chief-Librarian, doing her utmost to ensure that her students keep to Truth and discipline, while maintaining the cohesion of the legion. Indeed, she finds herself often in Primarch Imils presence, attempting to soothe the psychic visions and hallucinations that constantly plague her Lady Mother.
While Karna has butted heads with some, she is nevertheless a patient, almost kind person, who takes due care to collect and preserve knowledge in all its forms.
Ulvi, Forge-Lord
Specialties: Technology (-300)
Traits: N/A
Perks: Master: Technology, charismatic, intelligent, bionics, experienced (-1200)
Flaws: Maimed, rogue (+500)
Bio: Ulvi has been with the legion since its forging.
She has seen the Imperium grow, primarchs reunited with their legions, and legion masters come and go. She has seen ancient wonders and bleak horrors, and watched as the galaxy was pulled from the dark, inch by bloody inch. Ulvi's influence over the legion has seen an alignment towards the Mechanicum early on within the Great Crusade, and was a further proponent of the 'Progression' faction within the halls of the Mechanicum and the legion itself. Kind, and possessing an almost grandmotherly demeanor, one mustn't be fooled and underestimate the lengths she's willing to go to in order to get what she wants.
Ulvi is, save for Imil herself, the soul most experienced with Ofimil, often doting on the younger primarch like she would a granddaughter.
Sava the Lightning-Kissed
Specialities: Champion (-200)
Traits: Duelist (-100)
Perks: Master: Champion, veteran, talented, bionics, dauntless (-1400)
Flaws: Maimed, rival (+700)
Bio: Once, Sava was the shining star of the legion.
There was not a soul she could not best with the blade, nor was there anyone would could match her sharp wit. Her rise through the legion was meteoric, and soon she found herself not only on Lady Imil's personal bodyguard, but actively leading them. At the primarchs side, victory, honor, and glory were all hers time and time again. An endless challenge worthy of her skills. But in Imil's shadow, she could rise no further. Despite her love of her mother, Sava found herself growing frustrated with Imil's own disinterest in the Great Crusade, viewing the lip service she paid to the Imperial Truth with a growing disdain. Even throwing herself into the pursuit of even greater perfection yielded only sour failures. It was bitter and intolerable, and she found herself looking for other ways to advance her skills.
This path took her to Ofimil.
The younger twin almost immediately proved more dynamic and focused than Imil, if at times clumsy and overager. Sava's skills under Ofimil began to advance once more, helped by the simple fact that the younger twin was willing to duel with the captain, and resoundingly proving again and again that despite her more affable nature, she was still a primarch. While Ofimil was delighted to have Sava around, the captain found her own rough edges being worn off by Ofimils excitable nature, and Sava often accompanied the younger primarch on her adventures off the Solace, sanctioned or not. It was at one of these where she received her injuries, protecting the distracted Ofimil from an ambush, blacking out in the process, and waking to the news that the primarch had carried her out of the battle while fighting the assaulting creations one handed.
Today Sava stands as Ofimils unofficial second and equerry within the Prometheans.
Since her first waking moment, Imil has been alone.
When her pod screeched down onto Uzov, there were no fascinated eyes to point to her coming, no cheering, no curiosity. Her arrival was only noticed by straining sensors, tracking her descent with rust flecked eyes. Her pod burst through towering factory-skyscrapers, rattling the foundations of old buildings, and shattering ancient windows before crashing in the center of a partially online factory-complex. When she crawled from her pod, the only thing to meet her curious eyes were stuttering programs shifting into action. A stasis field captured her pod, as it did all oddities that fell from the stars, and she was only exempt due to her own nature. Not as a primarch, but a human.
Caretaker programs sparked into being, and the young primarch was tended to. She spent her formative years under the care of ancient programs, stuttering and broken under the weight of time and simple damage. Her curiosity quickly wore through their selection of route responses, and she quickly realized that, in truth, they were little more than lines of code. They had no thoughts of their own, no dreams, no will. She attempted to wander off, only to be caught again, a cycle of mind-numbing repetition. She explored the shining grasslands beyond her deathly tomb, ranging farther and farther before advanced, decaying technology eventually dragged her back.
She did what she could to satisfy her curiosity of the world around her, to silence a dark fear that was steadily consuming her. As she trawled through data-banks, those that still worked, she constructed robotic creatures from metal and the bones of the dead. She learned little of its history, of its people, beyond the simple fact they had been human. Ironically, or perhaps fittingly, the only thing of them that remained were the remains of their technology. Their weapons, and their old horrors.
One day, Imil had grown large enough and clever enough that she outwitted her faltering caretakers, and escaped the factory-complex that had been her home for so, so long. Her curious mind drew her across the globe. Searching, for history, for technology, and for someone, anyone, that might be alive. All she found was destruction, and ruins. Everything on this world was dying. Everything artificial, that was. Nature, despite the toxins released from obliterated research centers and towering factories, the ruins of a civilization that died hard littering its soil, and the destructive end of a species that had reached too far, too quickly, was taking its world back.
It was just her.
She didn't stop looking, even as her ruthlessly logical mind informed her of the continued uselessness of the act. She had to be wrong, she had to. There was something else out there, someone. She couldn't be alone in the universe. She couldn't. Her obsession drove her for years, from the highest spires to the deepest mines and darkest hidden research facilities. All she found were bones.
Eventually, her path took her back to the factory-complex that had been her home. Some form of forlorn hope dragging her to the pod she had landed in. When she was young, she was so desperately curious to see it, but her caretakers were like a wall of steel when it came to the stasis field. And, eventually, her desire for freedom trumped all. But now, older, more learned, it was a simple matter to disable it, and come to the only thing that was truly her own.
She had a plan. It was a desperate one, a foolish one, something that she had very little true experience in. But she had an idea on where to retrieve that experience, and what do with the pod. Heading to the center of the world, stasis enraptured pod in tow, Imil was determined to have someone. Some other form of life. No matter what it would cost her.
Coming to a looming facility, she ventured into its damaged center. There was a machine, there. One that would aid her in fulfilling her most desperate desire. The cost it demanded was nothing to her. Placing the pod in the necessary section, Imil entered the machine herself, determined to let it take its fill, whatever it needed, even if it left her on death's door, even if it killed her. Ancient tools pressed down, and terrible engines rumbled to life.
What happened next was a haze of pain.
When she stumbled from the chamber, bleeding, it was with only one eye. The ancient machine was destroying itself to fulfill her demand, sparks flew as sections of it began to melt under the heat, and the power of something altogether more primal. She could see ghosts all around her. Faint hazes of people, twitching between calm research and feral panic. The world was, at once, alive and dead. But none of that mattered to her, for she could see something truly miraculous in front of her.
A child was climbing from the pod.
As the voices of the dead screamed in her mind, she took the child, and together they left the ancient facility as it began to collapse within itself. They ventured far from the ruined cities, the terrible battle-feilds, and the dark research centers, to an isolated corner of the world. Even as ghosts now haunted her steps, and horrific dreams stalked her sleep, she did what she could for the child that was so very much like her. But their time was short, and Imil learned that she was never truly alone as she thought.
For, in a crack of gold that rang like lightning, the Emperor came to Uzov.
When her pod screeched down onto Uzov, there were no fascinated eyes to point to her coming, no cheering, no curiosity. Her arrival was only noticed by straining sensors, tracking her descent with rust flecked eyes. Her pod burst through towering factory-skyscrapers, rattling the foundations of old buildings, and shattering ancient windows before crashing in the center of a partially online factory-complex. When she crawled from her pod, the only thing to meet her curious eyes were stuttering programs shifting into action. A stasis field captured her pod, as it did all oddities that fell from the stars, and she was only exempt due to her own nature. Not as a primarch, but a human.
Caretaker programs sparked into being, and the young primarch was tended to. She spent her formative years under the care of ancient programs, stuttering and broken under the weight of time and simple damage. Her curiosity quickly wore through their selection of route responses, and she quickly realized that, in truth, they were little more than lines of code. They had no thoughts of their own, no dreams, no will. She attempted to wander off, only to be caught again, a cycle of mind-numbing repetition. She explored the shining grasslands beyond her deathly tomb, ranging farther and farther before advanced, decaying technology eventually dragged her back.
She did what she could to satisfy her curiosity of the world around her, to silence a dark fear that was steadily consuming her. As she trawled through data-banks, those that still worked, she constructed robotic creatures from metal and the bones of the dead. She learned little of its history, of its people, beyond the simple fact they had been human. Ironically, or perhaps fittingly, the only thing of them that remained were the remains of their technology. Their weapons, and their old horrors.
One day, Imil had grown large enough and clever enough that she outwitted her faltering caretakers, and escaped the factory-complex that had been her home for so, so long. Her curious mind drew her across the globe. Searching, for history, for technology, and for someone, anyone, that might be alive. All she found was destruction, and ruins. Everything on this world was dying. Everything artificial, that was. Nature, despite the toxins released from obliterated research centers and towering factories, the ruins of a civilization that died hard littering its soil, and the destructive end of a species that had reached too far, too quickly, was taking its world back.
It was just her.
She didn't stop looking, even as her ruthlessly logical mind informed her of the continued uselessness of the act. She had to be wrong, she had to. There was something else out there, someone. She couldn't be alone in the universe. She couldn't. Her obsession drove her for years, from the highest spires to the deepest mines and darkest hidden research facilities. All she found were bones.
Eventually, her path took her back to the factory-complex that had been her home. Some form of forlorn hope dragging her to the pod she had landed in. When she was young, she was so desperately curious to see it, but her caretakers were like a wall of steel when it came to the stasis field. And, eventually, her desire for freedom trumped all. But now, older, more learned, it was a simple matter to disable it, and come to the only thing that was truly her own.
She had a plan. It was a desperate one, a foolish one, something that she had very little true experience in. But she had an idea on where to retrieve that experience, and what do with the pod. Heading to the center of the world, stasis enraptured pod in tow, Imil was determined to have someone. Some other form of life. No matter what it would cost her.
Coming to a looming facility, she ventured into its damaged center. There was a machine, there. One that would aid her in fulfilling her most desperate desire. The cost it demanded was nothing to her. Placing the pod in the necessary section, Imil entered the machine herself, determined to let it take its fill, whatever it needed, even if it left her on death's door, even if it killed her. Ancient tools pressed down, and terrible engines rumbled to life.
What happened next was a haze of pain.
When she stumbled from the chamber, bleeding, it was with only one eye. The ancient machine was destroying itself to fulfill her demand, sparks flew as sections of it began to melt under the heat, and the power of something altogether more primal. She could see ghosts all around her. Faint hazes of people, twitching between calm research and feral panic. The world was, at once, alive and dead. But none of that mattered to her, for she could see something truly miraculous in front of her.
A child was climbing from the pod.
As the voices of the dead screamed in her mind, she took the child, and together they left the ancient facility as it began to collapse within itself. They ventured far from the ruined cities, the terrible battle-feilds, and the dark research centers, to an isolated corner of the world. Even as ghosts now haunted her steps, and horrific dreams stalked her sleep, she did what she could for the child that was so very much like her. But their time was short, and Imil learned that she was never truly alone as she thought.
For, in a crack of gold that rang like lightning, the Emperor came to Uzov.
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Mortis Nuntius
Theon Killjoy
- Location
- United Kingdom
Newer post available.
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Orotos and the Solar Riders
(TLDR at bottom of this folder)
Beginnings
Sprawling desert and rocky crags cover the vast majority of the planet Khessar. Scattered Oases, the Great Seas, and the winding rivers feeding into them have allowed for humanity's continued existence on this planet throughout the terrible millenia of strife. Though this planet's history has long since faded into legend, derelict ships, structures, and long forsaken cities serve as a reminder of humanity's past glory.
The Primarch who would be christened Orotos would find himself on this planet, landing near the village of Ilharam. He was taken in by a landowner named Mekir Zomas, who saw this Star Child as a blessing from the gods.
Zomas raised Orotos as an heir of sorts. Although he had his household servants act as caretakers, he assisted with his adopted son's education. At the same time, Orotos had shown a brief interest in the work of the serfs/slaves/sharecroppers who worked the estate, even assisting in their work. Given his innate vitality, the young Primarch easily endured and carried through what most would consider backbreaking labor. Although unexpected, Zomas encouraged this tendency, extolling the virtues of hard work and setting Orotos as an example that the workers of the estate should strive to emulate.
Naturally in this environment, both the estate workers and Zomas would play a role in influencing Orotos's worldview. The servant caretakers told him various stories, involving places of legend such as far off paradise of Terra, humanity's birthplace, where water, trees, and wheat were plentiful. As he hung out with other children, they sometimes spoke of hidden treasure, buried in the lost temples and ships of humanity's past. As Orotos learned early on that he was himself a Star Child, he internalized the idea that these treasures were his birthright.
Still, Orotos had grown up in a society where slavery and indentured servitude were simply part of the natural order on Khessar. Even if he may have viewed the slaves and serfs that lived on Zomas's estates as part of the extended household, Zomas did much to ensure that Orotos was distinct from them. The people, Zomas liked to remind his adopted son, had fallen to their status because they had given in to idleness. They, or their ancestors, had not worked hard enough in life, had not striven to maximize the fruits of their labor, they had not been judicious in their expenses… any number of excuses for why they had fallen to their circumstances.
It is not clear how much the young Primarch took in Zomas's words at face value, but perhaps because he grew up understanding he would be Zomas's heir, Orotos seemed to naturally gravitate towards his adoptive father's outlook.
During these formative years, Orotos took a peculiar interest in bookkeeping, glancing over logs for the expenses and sales of the estates. He even accompanied Zomas's personal broker to different towns throughout the region of Fasaram, keeping a meticulous note on the prices of different goods. Exposed to the different town markets, he even saw some vendors selling bionic machinery and other devices scrapped from old ships, though he thought some of their prices were ludicrous.
It was during one of these excursions that Orotos also caught a glimpse of the forces of the Grand Duke, the sovereign over Fasaram. Not only did their uniforms inspire awe, but some rode on motorbikes and cars resplendent with gems, both vehicles the pinnacle of rarity reserved only for the military and the highest nobility. Even though Orotos's father seemed to be well off to the point of owning servants and slaves, there were still those who were higher on the social bracket, and Orotos wanted a polished, shining car for himself as well.
Give the oddly exorbitant prices of scavenged tech, Orotos briefly wondered whether he should go into the scavenging business himself, especially if he might be lucky enough to find a car or something better from the mysterious ships that were said to be beyond the sands.
So life continued for Orotos, as he continued to assist his adoptive father with the estate. He discovered more profitable places to sell the estate's produce, and helped expand the estate buy finding farmers and other folks who were down on their luck and advising his father to buy their lands.
The Rat War
Orotos's peaceful lifestyle would receive a violent interruption. A horde of Rats, who came from beyond the furthest reaches of Fasaram, descended onto the fertile riverbanks, devastating towns and villages wherever they went. Orotos's hometown of Ilharam was among the first places to be attacked. The Primarch together with a band of folks he rallied managed to survive the onslaught, though Zomas was not so lucky. Orotos grieved for his adoptive father, though he did not mourn for long, believing that Zomas would not have wished him to remain idle so he could rebuild the estate.
Before he could do that, something needed to be done about the rat problem. Orotos and his growing band began to march down river and towards Fasaram's capital, hoping to petition the Grand Duke to send an army to deal with the rats. Fighting more rats as they went, they saw more villages that had seemingly been destroyed from the invasion. Eventually, they ran into an impromptu fort established by the Grand Duke's forces, where other refugees had gathered. As this army suffered significant to the rats, Orotos and his band discovered they were willing to accept recruits on the spot. Orotos, seeing the sorry state the army was in at this point, decided to volunteer. Although duty and fellowship with his countryfolk may have played a role in this decision, what motivated him most was the understanding that he would not be able to fully reclaim the land that was his until the rats were gone for good.
It quickly became apparent that despite possessing motorbikes, cars, and even some still functional weaponry from before the Age of Strife, there were far too few of them to effectively fight back against the hordes of rats. With limited equipment and arms, it was forced to defend instead of reclaim the devastated lands. Newer recruits had to stick with far simpler weapons, or otherwise improvised gear. There was also the issue that the Grand Duke's Marshall had recently died fighting the rats, and there was still some disagreement among the command about who should take charge, at least until the Grand Duke made a decision on a replacement.
Orotos took all this in and more, despite not having training for command. He aided the fight against the Rats where he could, focusing efforts on places Orotos knew from experience would have goods useful for the war effort, and leading raids to retrieve vehicles that had been lost in botched offensives. His feats, skills and effort slowly gathered him renown throughout the Grand Duke's forces.
Eventually, the rats were cleared from Fasaram, although Orotos feared they would come back again if they were not eliminated from wherever they came from. Nevertheless, Orotos and the rest of the army, seemingly victorious, went to the capital to receive honors and the like from Grand Duke Ezam. The Primarch and some of his colleagues had received rank promotions, although Orotos felt they didn't quite measure to his contribution to the war.
Ascension
Still, this was hardly the end to his rise in fortunes. There were now great swathes of land within Fasaram that lay unclaimed because their owners and/or heirs were now dead. Orotos, always keen on increasing his fortunes, had taken note of which families owned which estates, even speaking with some of the displaced peoples to determine their claims. He petitioned the Grand Duke about this matter, and received some lands in the process, although many of the claims the Primarch had brought up went to the Grand duke's favorites and higher nobility. Still, even though Orotos had not succeeded in defending everyone's cases, he had won many supporters simply by promoting their claims in the land redistribution process. Many who were now landless, seeing Orotos as their defender and advocate, chose to work for Orotos to help him rebuild his estates.
More time passed. Orotos steadily worked to rebuild his estates while finding other ways to increase his revenues. He established some partnerships with scavenger groups who had been down on their luck, hiring them for tasks such as guarding his estates and shipping goods, while also learning a bit more about the scavenger trade.
However, as Orotos had feared, the Rat incursions were not over. These new invasions were not as severe as the first, though they remained a continuous problem. Even so, the Rat menace continued to provide opportunities for the adopted son of Zomas, whose continued success gained him even more renown and even allowed him to earn a noble title and standing within the Grand Duke's court.
Here, Orotos started to immerse himself among Fasaram's elite. The court's luxury, indulgence, and occasional petty bickering were plain to see. At first, Orotos enjoyed being able to eat fruits from far distant lands, and live in halls of resplendent stone, metal, tapestry, and precious gems.
Yet a few things nagged at him. Many of the nobles around him had come about their wealth by means of old rights and ancient lineages. The Primarch, at least in his own opinion, had worked laboriously for his wealth and position, and the other nobles were hardly deserving of the favor of Grand Duke Ezam. Secondly, even though Orotos could acknowledge the scarcity and value of the foods the royal court had at its disposal, he felt they were far from sufficient to fulfill what he envisioned as a true life of luxury and splendor.
During some occasional ventures with the scavengers he hired, Orotos had glimpsed some ships of old towering above the sands. Orotos had seen the marvels ancient humanity had achieved. In order to attain the riches of the stars of his childhood dreams, the current state of affairs in Fasaram would not suffice. As things stood, the land currently did not have the resources or skills needed to reach for the stars once more.
And so an idea formed in Orotos's head. The destiny that awaited him as on descended from the stars became clear. The gods had chosen him to become this land's sovereign, to guide its people to space and prosperity.
An opportunity to carry out this vision would soon strike. A major peasant revolt broke out over a tax increase levied to make up for lost revenues from the rat invasion. At this point, Orotos wielded sizable influence within Fasaram's army, and many of its troops were recent recruits who were sympathetic to the people's plight. When the new Marshall attempted to carry out the Grand Duke's orders to suppress the rebellion, Orotos killed him and effectively seized control of the army, rallying folks to fight against the Grand Duke's taxes.
Orotos then quickly seized the Grand Duke's palace, publicly executing the Grand Duke and any nobles he didn't like or didn't believe would be useful for his vision. Once in charge, Orotos pursued a massive land redistribution effort and placing those he believed would be industrious into positions of power.
For a time, he had the new court live more meagerly, investing the resources that had been previously used for buying expensive luxury items from afar to develop the latent potential of Fasaram. Still, conserving and investing wealth hadn't completely changed the fact Fasaram's fortunes had dwindled because of the Rats.
The Invasion of Dakkal
Not long after seizing power, Grand Duke Orotos focused the state's resources on preparing for an invasion of Dakkal. Dakkal had been Fasaram's biggest supplier of fuel, but like many of Fasaram's neighbors, it remained very far away and the most convenient route still crossed through long stretches of inhospitable desert. Without Orotos's extreme obsession with logistics, accounting, and minutae, any sort of serious military endeavor would have been an extremely difficult endeavor, if possible at all.
So, with a heavy train of water, food, and fuel in tow, the army of Fasaram marched across the desert, the Primarch himself personally accompanying the expedition to ensure his forces did not waste a single drop or ration. Once it reached the lush outskirts of Dakkal, the army seized and plundered wherever they went to keep the march going. The forces of Dakkal had received some prior warning, but they were not quite prepared for just how big of a force Orotos had managed to lead across the desert.
Using knowledge gained from traders who came from these lands, Orotos directed his army to seize the regions where Dakkal's oil refineries were most abundant. This proved a lasting boon to the Fasaram forces, as the abundance of fuel allowed its motorized divisions to strike deep raids into Dakkal's lands. Towns, caravans, and convoys were raided at will, and with each successful engagement with Dakkal's own motorized forces, Orotos's fleet of cars and motorcycles grew larger and larger. With Dakkal's supply situation growing worse by the day, the local Dakkal forces were eventually forced into a desperate engagement with the entrenched Fasaram armies. The Dakkal armies were defeated, many of the locals would be enslaved to bolster Fasaram's estates and emerging industries, and the land of Dakkal would be absorbed into Orotos's administration. Although he would dole part of Dakkal's fuel industry to friends and rising technocrats, he would keep the bulk of it as his own personal property.
To the Stars
The conquest of Dakkal would mark the beginning of a long period of planetary unification under Orotos's direction. Cars and motorcycles studded with gems would terrorize land after land, until scarce few holdouts remained. The source of the Rats, the catalyst for Orotos's rise to power, would eventually be found and cleansed of vermin. Roads, outposts, and even rail lines would be constructed to connect Khessar's many nations and ensure the easier transportation of key resources. Industries whose techniques had long ago been forgotten were once again emerging, thanks to the aid of degraded STCs found from scavenging operations. Though heavily corrupted, broken and incomplete, the bits of information that could be gleaned from these devices served to spark breakthroughs in understanding the technology of humanity's past.
The rising industrial potential of the the planet would eventually allow for Orotos to see his dreams come to fruition. With the planet under his grip, Orotos now had the workforce to begin collecting and reassembling the ships and structures that had long ago fallen to ruin. It was a painstaking, costly effort, with payoffs that might take years or decades from the Primarch's perspective. Still, Orotos would succeed in overseeing the construction of Khessar's first starship since the Age of Strife's earliest years.
From this, more would come. The now christened Khessar Commonwealth would begin extending its reach to asteroids and planets within its solar system. Mines and spaceports that had been abandoned for thousands of years would hum to life once again. Even nearby systems and planets teeming with greenery and life would fall into the Commonwealth's orbit once the secrets of warp travel began to be understood. Orotos had fulfilled his lifelong aspiration. His wealth and property constantly grew, and he stood at his rightful place at the top of the pecking order, or so he thought.
Admission into the Imperium
Once the fleets of the Grand Crusade began to cross into Commonwealth space, it soon became clear just how small the Primarch's own achievements were. The might and capability of the Imperium far exceeded the small empire Orotos had managed to establish through toil and perseverance.
Rather than try and fight the Imperium's fleets and likely lose everything he had worked for, Orotos entered into talks with the Imperium. It was during this that he would first meet with the Emperor himself. The Emperor immediately recognized Orotos as one of his own sons, and so too did Orotos realize that this man was his true father and creator.
Orotos was thus instructed to join the Emperor in his grand vision to reclaim the galaxy for humanity and spread the Imperial Truth. To resist submission, Orotos implicitly understood, would invite death upon his person.
And thus Orotos submitted to the Emperor of Man. This would begin his life as one of the twenty Primarchs serving the Emperor's will. It was not an entirely unfavorable deal, as industry, trade, and wealth would grow with integration with the wider Imperium.
At the behest of the many technocrats and industrialists who supported Orotos's reign, a council known as the Khessar Industrial Syndicates was formed. Comprised of at-times rivals/at-times parters, the K.I.S. served as a sort of interest group to safeguard and advance former Commonwealth commercial interests in the face of the wider Imperium. Orotos himself was naturally a member. Even though the K.I.S. was mostly a rebranding and reorganization of his circle of oligarchs, they would continue to influence Orotos's policies as worked for the larger Imperium.
Even if Imperial integration had its benefits, there were many things which left Orotos less than satisfied.
Though he was not necessarily the most infamous among his Primarch brethren, he felt he was not recognized as his abilities should merit. Even though he had been awarded with his own legion of Astartes, and had a limited degree of freedom to run things as he pleased, Orotos would grow to believe that the Emperor favored some of the other Primarchs more. Just as he felt before serving in the court of Grand Duke Ezam, Orotos would feel that some of the other Primarchs were not worthy of their apparent standing.
Even though Orotos was quick to envy and covet the wealth and status of others, there was some basis to this sentiment. Early on, the Emperor had summoned Orotos, intending to duel him to assess his fighting abilities and determine how he might best serve the Grand Crusade. Of course, it was unthinkable, especially to someone like Orotos, that he would ever hope to best someone like the Emperor in a straight up fight. However, even as Orotos put up his best fight, his performance fell miserably below the Emperor's standards. The Emperor idly remarked that his son was "mediocre," and turned his back in disappointment.
This was a humiliation. He had slain rats by the hundreds, nay thousands. He had marched great armies across the blistering desert. He had carved a space-faring, industrialized civilization out of a kingdom that was nearly on the brink of collapse. Who was this man, this so called "father," to say he was mediocre? Just because others had been blessed by their circumstances, because they had arrived in places closer to humanity's stellar greatness of the long lost forgotten past, because they had grown strong from fighting the super-fauna and super-flora native to their planets… that made them better than he was?
Of course, Orotos kept much of this to himself. He would have to swallow this reality and improve his lot as he always did.
Still, after that incident, the Emperor would task Orotos with assisting the functions of the Administratum, establishing censuses and making reports to determine the most efficient tithes for each world. It was a task Orotos work diligently on, though he still had to attend to his vast personal estates, his home sector, and the interests of the K.I.S. At the same time, these tasks did tend to keep Orotos away from the fronts of the Grand Crusade, denying him some of the prestige afforded to those more directly involved in direct conquest.
These weren't the only inconveniences from induction into the Imperium however. As per their policy, the Mechanicum had taken it upon themselves to collect the degraded STCs that Orotos had used to help further Khessar's industrial and stellar development. This was a deep source of indignation for Orotos, as he believed those data devices were his by right. He and his scavengers had found them after all! Orotos would comply, though he would always remain at odds with certain factions of the Mechanicum.
And that is where Orotos stands in this day and hour of the Grand Crusade. In his time, the Primarch has established connections with similarly economic minded individuals within the broader Imperium. For now, he does as the Emperor wishes, still understanding that the Emperor is his superior. But will he ever be truly satisfied, until he commands the envy of the other Primarchs and is recognized for his talents, until his wealth and affluence knows no equal? Time will only tell.
TLDR
*Orotos landed on desert planet of Khessar and got adopted by a landowner named Zomas.
*He grew up being a busybody. Zomas encouraged him to be a hard worker despite being a slave-owning landlord.
*Orotos learned about trade and accounting and had a young talent for it.
*Rats attacked. Orotos helped fight back.
*Orotos gained influence in his homeland's army and became a noble.
*Orotos didn't think the nobility was rich and classy enough for his tastes, and they weren't hard working enough for his liking.
*Orotos also wanted to go into space and get space treasure, but he didn't think his country was developed enough to let him do that.
*Orotos takes advantage of a peasant rebellion and stages a coup.
*He restructures the government to put in friends and people he think will make good technocrats.
*Orotos invades another country for their oil (and also slaves).
*Orotos takes over the rest of the planet.
*Orotos's country gets old spaceships working and goes into space.
*Expansion in space happens.
*The Imperium comes knocking and Orotos meets dad. Orotos and his mini-empire join the Imperium.
*Orotos and his oligarchs form a council of space capitalists.
*Orotos is jealous that dad likes the other Primarchs more.
*Dad tests Orotos in a duel but Orotos fails. Dad calls him a wimp.
*Orotos is also mad at the Mechanicum for taking away some of his crappy STCs.
Beginnings
Sprawling desert and rocky crags cover the vast majority of the planet Khessar. Scattered Oases, the Great Seas, and the winding rivers feeding into them have allowed for humanity's continued existence on this planet throughout the terrible millenia of strife. Though this planet's history has long since faded into legend, derelict ships, structures, and long forsaken cities serve as a reminder of humanity's past glory.
The Primarch who would be christened Orotos would find himself on this planet, landing near the village of Ilharam. He was taken in by a landowner named Mekir Zomas, who saw this Star Child as a blessing from the gods.
Zomas raised Orotos as an heir of sorts. Although he had his household servants act as caretakers, he assisted with his adopted son's education. At the same time, Orotos had shown a brief interest in the work of the serfs/slaves/sharecroppers who worked the estate, even assisting in their work. Given his innate vitality, the young Primarch easily endured and carried through what most would consider backbreaking labor. Although unexpected, Zomas encouraged this tendency, extolling the virtues of hard work and setting Orotos as an example that the workers of the estate should strive to emulate.
Naturally in this environment, both the estate workers and Zomas would play a role in influencing Orotos's worldview. The servant caretakers told him various stories, involving places of legend such as far off paradise of Terra, humanity's birthplace, where water, trees, and wheat were plentiful. As he hung out with other children, they sometimes spoke of hidden treasure, buried in the lost temples and ships of humanity's past. As Orotos learned early on that he was himself a Star Child, he internalized the idea that these treasures were his birthright.
Still, Orotos had grown up in a society where slavery and indentured servitude were simply part of the natural order on Khessar. Even if he may have viewed the slaves and serfs that lived on Zomas's estates as part of the extended household, Zomas did much to ensure that Orotos was distinct from them. The people, Zomas liked to remind his adopted son, had fallen to their status because they had given in to idleness. They, or their ancestors, had not worked hard enough in life, had not striven to maximize the fruits of their labor, they had not been judicious in their expenses… any number of excuses for why they had fallen to their circumstances.
It is not clear how much the young Primarch took in Zomas's words at face value, but perhaps because he grew up understanding he would be Zomas's heir, Orotos seemed to naturally gravitate towards his adoptive father's outlook.
During these formative years, Orotos took a peculiar interest in bookkeeping, glancing over logs for the expenses and sales of the estates. He even accompanied Zomas's personal broker to different towns throughout the region of Fasaram, keeping a meticulous note on the prices of different goods. Exposed to the different town markets, he even saw some vendors selling bionic machinery and other devices scrapped from old ships, though he thought some of their prices were ludicrous.
It was during one of these excursions that Orotos also caught a glimpse of the forces of the Grand Duke, the sovereign over Fasaram. Not only did their uniforms inspire awe, but some rode on motorbikes and cars resplendent with gems, both vehicles the pinnacle of rarity reserved only for the military and the highest nobility. Even though Orotos's father seemed to be well off to the point of owning servants and slaves, there were still those who were higher on the social bracket, and Orotos wanted a polished, shining car for himself as well.
Give the oddly exorbitant prices of scavenged tech, Orotos briefly wondered whether he should go into the scavenging business himself, especially if he might be lucky enough to find a car or something better from the mysterious ships that were said to be beyond the sands.
So life continued for Orotos, as he continued to assist his adoptive father with the estate. He discovered more profitable places to sell the estate's produce, and helped expand the estate buy finding farmers and other folks who were down on their luck and advising his father to buy their lands.
The Rat War
Orotos's peaceful lifestyle would receive a violent interruption. A horde of Rats, who came from beyond the furthest reaches of Fasaram, descended onto the fertile riverbanks, devastating towns and villages wherever they went. Orotos's hometown of Ilharam was among the first places to be attacked. The Primarch together with a band of folks he rallied managed to survive the onslaught, though Zomas was not so lucky. Orotos grieved for his adoptive father, though he did not mourn for long, believing that Zomas would not have wished him to remain idle so he could rebuild the estate.
Before he could do that, something needed to be done about the rat problem. Orotos and his growing band began to march down river and towards Fasaram's capital, hoping to petition the Grand Duke to send an army to deal with the rats. Fighting more rats as they went, they saw more villages that had seemingly been destroyed from the invasion. Eventually, they ran into an impromptu fort established by the Grand Duke's forces, where other refugees had gathered. As this army suffered significant to the rats, Orotos and his band discovered they were willing to accept recruits on the spot. Orotos, seeing the sorry state the army was in at this point, decided to volunteer. Although duty and fellowship with his countryfolk may have played a role in this decision, what motivated him most was the understanding that he would not be able to fully reclaim the land that was his until the rats were gone for good.
It quickly became apparent that despite possessing motorbikes, cars, and even some still functional weaponry from before the Age of Strife, there were far too few of them to effectively fight back against the hordes of rats. With limited equipment and arms, it was forced to defend instead of reclaim the devastated lands. Newer recruits had to stick with far simpler weapons, or otherwise improvised gear. There was also the issue that the Grand Duke's Marshall had recently died fighting the rats, and there was still some disagreement among the command about who should take charge, at least until the Grand Duke made a decision on a replacement.
Orotos took all this in and more, despite not having training for command. He aided the fight against the Rats where he could, focusing efforts on places Orotos knew from experience would have goods useful for the war effort, and leading raids to retrieve vehicles that had been lost in botched offensives. His feats, skills and effort slowly gathered him renown throughout the Grand Duke's forces.
Eventually, the rats were cleared from Fasaram, although Orotos feared they would come back again if they were not eliminated from wherever they came from. Nevertheless, Orotos and the rest of the army, seemingly victorious, went to the capital to receive honors and the like from Grand Duke Ezam. The Primarch and some of his colleagues had received rank promotions, although Orotos felt they didn't quite measure to his contribution to the war.
Ascension
Still, this was hardly the end to his rise in fortunes. There were now great swathes of land within Fasaram that lay unclaimed because their owners and/or heirs were now dead. Orotos, always keen on increasing his fortunes, had taken note of which families owned which estates, even speaking with some of the displaced peoples to determine their claims. He petitioned the Grand Duke about this matter, and received some lands in the process, although many of the claims the Primarch had brought up went to the Grand duke's favorites and higher nobility. Still, even though Orotos had not succeeded in defending everyone's cases, he had won many supporters simply by promoting their claims in the land redistribution process. Many who were now landless, seeing Orotos as their defender and advocate, chose to work for Orotos to help him rebuild his estates.
More time passed. Orotos steadily worked to rebuild his estates while finding other ways to increase his revenues. He established some partnerships with scavenger groups who had been down on their luck, hiring them for tasks such as guarding his estates and shipping goods, while also learning a bit more about the scavenger trade.
However, as Orotos had feared, the Rat incursions were not over. These new invasions were not as severe as the first, though they remained a continuous problem. Even so, the Rat menace continued to provide opportunities for the adopted son of Zomas, whose continued success gained him even more renown and even allowed him to earn a noble title and standing within the Grand Duke's court.
Here, Orotos started to immerse himself among Fasaram's elite. The court's luxury, indulgence, and occasional petty bickering were plain to see. At first, Orotos enjoyed being able to eat fruits from far distant lands, and live in halls of resplendent stone, metal, tapestry, and precious gems.
Yet a few things nagged at him. Many of the nobles around him had come about their wealth by means of old rights and ancient lineages. The Primarch, at least in his own opinion, had worked laboriously for his wealth and position, and the other nobles were hardly deserving of the favor of Grand Duke Ezam. Secondly, even though Orotos could acknowledge the scarcity and value of the foods the royal court had at its disposal, he felt they were far from sufficient to fulfill what he envisioned as a true life of luxury and splendor.
During some occasional ventures with the scavengers he hired, Orotos had glimpsed some ships of old towering above the sands. Orotos had seen the marvels ancient humanity had achieved. In order to attain the riches of the stars of his childhood dreams, the current state of affairs in Fasaram would not suffice. As things stood, the land currently did not have the resources or skills needed to reach for the stars once more.
And so an idea formed in Orotos's head. The destiny that awaited him as on descended from the stars became clear. The gods had chosen him to become this land's sovereign, to guide its people to space and prosperity.
An opportunity to carry out this vision would soon strike. A major peasant revolt broke out over a tax increase levied to make up for lost revenues from the rat invasion. At this point, Orotos wielded sizable influence within Fasaram's army, and many of its troops were recent recruits who were sympathetic to the people's plight. When the new Marshall attempted to carry out the Grand Duke's orders to suppress the rebellion, Orotos killed him and effectively seized control of the army, rallying folks to fight against the Grand Duke's taxes.
Orotos then quickly seized the Grand Duke's palace, publicly executing the Grand Duke and any nobles he didn't like or didn't believe would be useful for his vision. Once in charge, Orotos pursued a massive land redistribution effort and placing those he believed would be industrious into positions of power.
For a time, he had the new court live more meagerly, investing the resources that had been previously used for buying expensive luxury items from afar to develop the latent potential of Fasaram. Still, conserving and investing wealth hadn't completely changed the fact Fasaram's fortunes had dwindled because of the Rats.
The Invasion of Dakkal
Not long after seizing power, Grand Duke Orotos focused the state's resources on preparing for an invasion of Dakkal. Dakkal had been Fasaram's biggest supplier of fuel, but like many of Fasaram's neighbors, it remained very far away and the most convenient route still crossed through long stretches of inhospitable desert. Without Orotos's extreme obsession with logistics, accounting, and minutae, any sort of serious military endeavor would have been an extremely difficult endeavor, if possible at all.
So, with a heavy train of water, food, and fuel in tow, the army of Fasaram marched across the desert, the Primarch himself personally accompanying the expedition to ensure his forces did not waste a single drop or ration. Once it reached the lush outskirts of Dakkal, the army seized and plundered wherever they went to keep the march going. The forces of Dakkal had received some prior warning, but they were not quite prepared for just how big of a force Orotos had managed to lead across the desert.
Using knowledge gained from traders who came from these lands, Orotos directed his army to seize the regions where Dakkal's oil refineries were most abundant. This proved a lasting boon to the Fasaram forces, as the abundance of fuel allowed its motorized divisions to strike deep raids into Dakkal's lands. Towns, caravans, and convoys were raided at will, and with each successful engagement with Dakkal's own motorized forces, Orotos's fleet of cars and motorcycles grew larger and larger. With Dakkal's supply situation growing worse by the day, the local Dakkal forces were eventually forced into a desperate engagement with the entrenched Fasaram armies. The Dakkal armies were defeated, many of the locals would be enslaved to bolster Fasaram's estates and emerging industries, and the land of Dakkal would be absorbed into Orotos's administration. Although he would dole part of Dakkal's fuel industry to friends and rising technocrats, he would keep the bulk of it as his own personal property.
To the Stars
The conquest of Dakkal would mark the beginning of a long period of planetary unification under Orotos's direction. Cars and motorcycles studded with gems would terrorize land after land, until scarce few holdouts remained. The source of the Rats, the catalyst for Orotos's rise to power, would eventually be found and cleansed of vermin. Roads, outposts, and even rail lines would be constructed to connect Khessar's many nations and ensure the easier transportation of key resources. Industries whose techniques had long ago been forgotten were once again emerging, thanks to the aid of degraded STCs found from scavenging operations. Though heavily corrupted, broken and incomplete, the bits of information that could be gleaned from these devices served to spark breakthroughs in understanding the technology of humanity's past.
The rising industrial potential of the the planet would eventually allow for Orotos to see his dreams come to fruition. With the planet under his grip, Orotos now had the workforce to begin collecting and reassembling the ships and structures that had long ago fallen to ruin. It was a painstaking, costly effort, with payoffs that might take years or decades from the Primarch's perspective. Still, Orotos would succeed in overseeing the construction of Khessar's first starship since the Age of Strife's earliest years.
From this, more would come. The now christened Khessar Commonwealth would begin extending its reach to asteroids and planets within its solar system. Mines and spaceports that had been abandoned for thousands of years would hum to life once again. Even nearby systems and planets teeming with greenery and life would fall into the Commonwealth's orbit once the secrets of warp travel began to be understood. Orotos had fulfilled his lifelong aspiration. His wealth and property constantly grew, and he stood at his rightful place at the top of the pecking order, or so he thought.
Admission into the Imperium
Once the fleets of the Grand Crusade began to cross into Commonwealth space, it soon became clear just how small the Primarch's own achievements were. The might and capability of the Imperium far exceeded the small empire Orotos had managed to establish through toil and perseverance.
Rather than try and fight the Imperium's fleets and likely lose everything he had worked for, Orotos entered into talks with the Imperium. It was during this that he would first meet with the Emperor himself. The Emperor immediately recognized Orotos as one of his own sons, and so too did Orotos realize that this man was his true father and creator.
Orotos was thus instructed to join the Emperor in his grand vision to reclaim the galaxy for humanity and spread the Imperial Truth. To resist submission, Orotos implicitly understood, would invite death upon his person.
And thus Orotos submitted to the Emperor of Man. This would begin his life as one of the twenty Primarchs serving the Emperor's will. It was not an entirely unfavorable deal, as industry, trade, and wealth would grow with integration with the wider Imperium.
At the behest of the many technocrats and industrialists who supported Orotos's reign, a council known as the Khessar Industrial Syndicates was formed. Comprised of at-times rivals/at-times parters, the K.I.S. served as a sort of interest group to safeguard and advance former Commonwealth commercial interests in the face of the wider Imperium. Orotos himself was naturally a member. Even though the K.I.S. was mostly a rebranding and reorganization of his circle of oligarchs, they would continue to influence Orotos's policies as worked for the larger Imperium.
Even if Imperial integration had its benefits, there were many things which left Orotos less than satisfied.
Though he was not necessarily the most infamous among his Primarch brethren, he felt he was not recognized as his abilities should merit. Even though he had been awarded with his own legion of Astartes, and had a limited degree of freedom to run things as he pleased, Orotos would grow to believe that the Emperor favored some of the other Primarchs more. Just as he felt before serving in the court of Grand Duke Ezam, Orotos would feel that some of the other Primarchs were not worthy of their apparent standing.
Even though Orotos was quick to envy and covet the wealth and status of others, there was some basis to this sentiment. Early on, the Emperor had summoned Orotos, intending to duel him to assess his fighting abilities and determine how he might best serve the Grand Crusade. Of course, it was unthinkable, especially to someone like Orotos, that he would ever hope to best someone like the Emperor in a straight up fight. However, even as Orotos put up his best fight, his performance fell miserably below the Emperor's standards. The Emperor idly remarked that his son was "mediocre," and turned his back in disappointment.
This was a humiliation. He had slain rats by the hundreds, nay thousands. He had marched great armies across the blistering desert. He had carved a space-faring, industrialized civilization out of a kingdom that was nearly on the brink of collapse. Who was this man, this so called "father," to say he was mediocre? Just because others had been blessed by their circumstances, because they had arrived in places closer to humanity's stellar greatness of the long lost forgotten past, because they had grown strong from fighting the super-fauna and super-flora native to their planets… that made them better than he was?
Of course, Orotos kept much of this to himself. He would have to swallow this reality and improve his lot as he always did.
Still, after that incident, the Emperor would task Orotos with assisting the functions of the Administratum, establishing censuses and making reports to determine the most efficient tithes for each world. It was a task Orotos work diligently on, though he still had to attend to his vast personal estates, his home sector, and the interests of the K.I.S. At the same time, these tasks did tend to keep Orotos away from the fronts of the Grand Crusade, denying him some of the prestige afforded to those more directly involved in direct conquest.
These weren't the only inconveniences from induction into the Imperium however. As per their policy, the Mechanicum had taken it upon themselves to collect the degraded STCs that Orotos had used to help further Khessar's industrial and stellar development. This was a deep source of indignation for Orotos, as he believed those data devices were his by right. He and his scavengers had found them after all! Orotos would comply, though he would always remain at odds with certain factions of the Mechanicum.
And that is where Orotos stands in this day and hour of the Grand Crusade. In his time, the Primarch has established connections with similarly economic minded individuals within the broader Imperium. For now, he does as the Emperor wishes, still understanding that the Emperor is his superior. But will he ever be truly satisfied, until he commands the envy of the other Primarchs and is recognized for his talents, until his wealth and affluence knows no equal? Time will only tell.
TLDR
*Orotos landed on desert planet of Khessar and got adopted by a landowner named Zomas.
*He grew up being a busybody. Zomas encouraged him to be a hard worker despite being a slave-owning landlord.
*Orotos learned about trade and accounting and had a young talent for it.
*Rats attacked. Orotos helped fight back.
*Orotos gained influence in his homeland's army and became a noble.
*Orotos didn't think the nobility was rich and classy enough for his tastes, and they weren't hard working enough for his liking.
*Orotos also wanted to go into space and get space treasure, but he didn't think his country was developed enough to let him do that.
*Orotos takes advantage of a peasant rebellion and stages a coup.
*He restructures the government to put in friends and people he think will make good technocrats.
*Orotos invades another country for their oil (and also slaves).
*Orotos takes over the rest of the planet.
*Orotos's country gets old spaceships working and goes into space.
*Expansion in space happens.
*The Imperium comes knocking and Orotos meets dad. Orotos and his mini-empire join the Imperium.
*Orotos and his oligarchs form a council of space capitalists.
*Orotos is jealous that dad likes the other Primarchs more.
*Dad tests Orotos in a duel but Orotos fails. Dad calls him a wimp.
*Orotos is also mad at the Mechanicum for taking away some of his crappy STCs.
WIP (will elaborate more later)
The Solar Riders
*Solar Rider land doctrine has a focus on ground vehicles and mobility.
*After the Treaty of Mars, a number of marines got sent to Mars to become techmarines to help maintain vehicles.
*Some marines in this initial training batch might have been called out early, cause 30 years is a long time to train and the Grand Crusade needs people who can maintain vehicles yesterday.
*Some beliefs and concepts from the Cult Mechanicus start to circulate throughout the Solar Riders once these partially trained techmarines are reintroduced into the legion. Most marines still have loyalty and adherence to the Imperial Truth. Early techmarines are still seen as comrades and part of the larger chapter. At the same time, ideas such as motive force and the idea machines and particularly vehicles might have souls and wills start to circulate and become accepted.
*As techmarines who have full training are introduced, there may be tension between them and the wider legion which may have started to develop its own beliefs.
*Solar Rider vehicles tend to be red or other heat-evoking colors. A number of marines may paint/etch faces on their vehicles to evoke the machine spirit within.
*Some experiences in various battles and conquest also lead to the Solar Riders developing other superstitions (may elaborate later).
*Although the Solar Riders recognize Orotos as their Primarch, they tend to see Admiral Levett as their leader, as he was the one who was with them for most of their battles, and Orotos might across as a high lord or something.
*Orotos's displeasure and disagreements with the Preservation faction of the Mechanicum and the perception that the Solar Riders may be adopting heretical views on the Cult Mechanicus means the techmarines are likely trained by the progressive faction. Also, as some marines may try to adopt simple maintenance rituals especially with the rise of figures like "Slippy," they may view that the Mechanicum shouldn't have sole monopoly over knowledge, especially with prodding of speeches from Orotos.
The Solar Riders
*Solar Rider land doctrine has a focus on ground vehicles and mobility.
*After the Treaty of Mars, a number of marines got sent to Mars to become techmarines to help maintain vehicles.
*Some marines in this initial training batch might have been called out early, cause 30 years is a long time to train and the Grand Crusade needs people who can maintain vehicles yesterday.
*Some beliefs and concepts from the Cult Mechanicus start to circulate throughout the Solar Riders once these partially trained techmarines are reintroduced into the legion. Most marines still have loyalty and adherence to the Imperial Truth. Early techmarines are still seen as comrades and part of the larger chapter. At the same time, ideas such as motive force and the idea machines and particularly vehicles might have souls and wills start to circulate and become accepted.
*As techmarines who have full training are introduced, there may be tension between them and the wider legion which may have started to develop its own beliefs.
*Solar Rider vehicles tend to be red or other heat-evoking colors. A number of marines may paint/etch faces on their vehicles to evoke the machine spirit within.
*Some experiences in various battles and conquest also lead to the Solar Riders developing other superstitions (may elaborate later).
*Although the Solar Riders recognize Orotos as their Primarch, they tend to see Admiral Levett as their leader, as he was the one who was with them for most of their battles, and Orotos might across as a high lord or something.
*Orotos's displeasure and disagreements with the Preservation faction of the Mechanicum and the perception that the Solar Riders may be adopting heretical views on the Cult Mechanicus means the techmarines are likely trained by the progressive faction. Also, as some marines may try to adopt simple maintenance rituals especially with the rise of figures like "Slippy," they may view that the Mechanicum shouldn't have sole monopoly over knowledge, especially with prodding of speeches from Orotos.
(WIP - may go into more depth later)
Miras Trake
*Spy/Intelligence/assassination character that Orotos tasks with doing various dirtywork.
*Probably got in trouble with some mid/high ranking person in the Imperium's navy (currently Babbit van Gard). Haven't decided if he was mucking about for his own reasons or if Orotos ordered him to search for dirt on this person.
Admiral Levett
*Long time admiral of the Solar Rider forces and has probably been around since the Unification Wars period or something.
*Generally has been reliable although lately he's been going on frenzied rants, polemics, etc. Could just be him or maybe some higher powers are actually whispering stuff to him.
*He's more likely seen as the leader to the Solar Riders over Orotos, who's usually doing other stuff.
*Previously he might have gone along with the Imperial Truth, though he probably has come to believe in the existence of gods or higher powers. He has probably come to believe there are machine spirits (and he talks about ships as if they were people/alive), though he doesn't accept most of the tenets of the Cult Mechanicus. Haven't fully thought out his beliefs yet.
*He's probably made some decisions in the heat of battle that may have won the legion some infamy though haven't figured out what that involved yet.
"Slippy"
*Relatively recent recruit in the Solar Riders.
*His actual name is Seymour or something, but most people call him Slippy after an incident where he fell off an assault bike and caused it to crash. Also he's clumsy and just has very bad luck in general.
*Early on in his training, he watched Techmarines working on vehicles and thought "wow that's so cool." He tried to figure out how they do stuff by just watching them and annoying them in their armories. He gradually learns their rituals but not being an ordained Techmarine he tends to neglect certain parts of the rituals or interpret them in his own way. He tries doing some of the maintenance rituals on his own but ends up blowing up a few machines. Techmarines and others tell him to stop cause he keeps angering the machine spirits cause he keeps doing things wrong.
*His spirits are a little dampened, but he doesn't entirely give up his passion for wanting to learn how to maintain/work vehicles good, partly inspired by some speech Orotos made about "perseverance and hard work."
*On one of his early assignments to fight on some enemy planet (Xeno or human), things go horribly wrong. A bunch of dead marines/aux, a number of the highest ranking generals are dead, and so are most of the techmarines. In this situation, "Slippy" is the one who winds up taking charge, saving people where he can. He also manages to fix/salvage several vehicles that had been wrecked in the early fighting, and people are astonished that they aren't exploding this time.
*"Slippy" comes back from this battle as a hero. Either Orotos or some other high ranking commander decides to promote this guy to general or some other commanding position. Also he's commended for his initiative in trying to learn how vehicles work and how to repair them, probably to dunk on the on the more traditionally minded Techmarines who are keeping their knowledge to themselves and whatnot.
*Although the thought of going to Mars to learn more about how to appease machine spirits crosses his mind, "Slippy" decides not to. His chapter needs him. Maybe he doesn't get all the details about the rituals right, but if the machine spirits are happy, they're happy. Maybe finding his own path is the way to go.
*In his continued service, "Slippy" begins teaching other marines and troops about how to work machinery, likely to the consternation of traditional Techmarines and techpriests. He also sometimes shares his highly condensed and syncretic interpretations of the Cult Mechanicus faith, which has begun to spread throughout the Solar Riders and may also be a point of friction with the wider Mechanicum.
Miras Trake
*Spy/Intelligence/assassination character that Orotos tasks with doing various dirtywork.
*Probably got in trouble with some mid/high ranking person in the Imperium's navy (currently Babbit van Gard). Haven't decided if he was mucking about for his own reasons or if Orotos ordered him to search for dirt on this person.
Admiral Levett
*Long time admiral of the Solar Rider forces and has probably been around since the Unification Wars period or something.
*Generally has been reliable although lately he's been going on frenzied rants, polemics, etc. Could just be him or maybe some higher powers are actually whispering stuff to him.
*He's more likely seen as the leader to the Solar Riders over Orotos, who's usually doing other stuff.
*Previously he might have gone along with the Imperial Truth, though he probably has come to believe in the existence of gods or higher powers. He has probably come to believe there are machine spirits (and he talks about ships as if they were people/alive), though he doesn't accept most of the tenets of the Cult Mechanicus. Haven't fully thought out his beliefs yet.
*He's probably made some decisions in the heat of battle that may have won the legion some infamy though haven't figured out what that involved yet.
"Slippy"
*Relatively recent recruit in the Solar Riders.
*His actual name is Seymour or something, but most people call him Slippy after an incident where he fell off an assault bike and caused it to crash. Also he's clumsy and just has very bad luck in general.
*Early on in his training, he watched Techmarines working on vehicles and thought "wow that's so cool." He tried to figure out how they do stuff by just watching them and annoying them in their armories. He gradually learns their rituals but not being an ordained Techmarine he tends to neglect certain parts of the rituals or interpret them in his own way. He tries doing some of the maintenance rituals on his own but ends up blowing up a few machines. Techmarines and others tell him to stop cause he keeps angering the machine spirits cause he keeps doing things wrong.
*His spirits are a little dampened, but he doesn't entirely give up his passion for wanting to learn how to maintain/work vehicles good, partly inspired by some speech Orotos made about "perseverance and hard work."
*On one of his early assignments to fight on some enemy planet (Xeno or human), things go horribly wrong. A bunch of dead marines/aux, a number of the highest ranking generals are dead, and so are most of the techmarines. In this situation, "Slippy" is the one who winds up taking charge, saving people where he can. He also manages to fix/salvage several vehicles that had been wrecked in the early fighting, and people are astonished that they aren't exploding this time.
*"Slippy" comes back from this battle as a hero. Either Orotos or some other high ranking commander decides to promote this guy to general or some other commanding position. Also he's commended for his initiative in trying to learn how vehicles work and how to repair them, probably to dunk on the on the more traditionally minded Techmarines who are keeping their knowledge to themselves and whatnot.
*Although the thought of going to Mars to learn more about how to appease machine spirits crosses his mind, "Slippy" decides not to. His chapter needs him. Maybe he doesn't get all the details about the rituals right, but if the machine spirits are happy, they're happy. Maybe finding his own path is the way to go.
*In his continued service, "Slippy" begins teaching other marines and troops about how to work machinery, likely to the consternation of traditional Techmarines and techpriests. He also sometimes shares his highly condensed and syncretic interpretations of the Cult Mechanicus faith, which has begun to spread throughout the Solar Riders and may also be a point of friction with the wider Mechanicum.
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Artie Dolittle and the Ship Breakers
Artie was scattered to the icy ocean world Galilean, where the surface is irradiated enough to kill an ork, only the subterranean oceans being habitable. Artie was found within an abandoned outpost by teams of Jovian Separatists, a faction of either freedom fighters or terrorists, depending on how one might see them.
He never agreed with the Jovian's views, and only about a year after he landed, he joined a new submarine crew. There's not much to note for the next period of his life. However, at the end of that period, he would begin his ascent to power when he "inherited" the ship after being the last survivor of a Mudraptor nest clearing gone wrong.
The crew of the Guiding Hand was already somewhat famous, under Artie, they became world-renowned. With such legendary exploits as fighting off a pair of Endworms, albeit with two submarines, he was able to be elected into a position of power within the Coalition.
Over the next decades, he began a campaign of clearing the Jovian Separatists from Galilean. Though mostly with his private network of submarines. He had a veritable fleet of them by this point. While Artie was still very much a politician, he became domestically popular as well thanks to his propensity to lead from the front.
Though finding the Church of the Husk abhorrent, he did find one notable part of their way of life, their use of gene splicers. A curious device that, as long as a sample is included, allows certain traits from animals to manifest in other animals. If removed, the body sees these additions as forgien and they are purged ra her quickly.
A lucky break would happen for Artie shortly after his interest in gene splicing waxed. An exploratory mission of the Abyssal depths, one of the submarines under his command found a legendary, if not near impossible, find. Endworm Eggs.
Artie pushed unbelievably hard to try and make a habitat for these creatures. If for no other reason than to study how they grow. When the wormlings began to grow big, they were killed and harvested. However, an (extremely unauthorized) experiment spliced a volunteer with Endworm genetics. The armor it manifested was enough to block most attacks, and it shortly became a valued splice for those who were willing to do so.
These new soldiers were the tipping point in the campaign against the Separatists. With the ability to fight and board with minimal losses, this allowed momentum to be built and maintained. After securing all but the most remote outposts, Artie consolidated his power and looked inwards. It might be some people's hell, but Galilean was his home, and it might be Humanity's last home.
But not long after this, visitors came from the stars, showing the light of a still breathing humanity.
——
The Corridor Breakers were a niche Legion. They excelled in boarding operations, enclosed spaces, and general CQC. That's not to say they were useless in open battle, but they'd much prefer a Hive City or underground tunnels. As such, they often deployed in Hive worlds, mining worlds, and so on.
When their primarch was found, they were, luckily, not engaged in any notable combat, so the majority of the Legion was able to go to meet him, after the usual Warp Troubles of course. Whatever they expected, an irradiated ball of ice was not what they expected. However, some basic infrastructure was built, and the most important members of the Legion were invited down into New Baltic Station, the de facto capital of Galilean.
If anything, the marines found the station familiar. Being showed the way by an armored guard, they went to their Primarch's office, finding him standing over a holomap. They made eye contact, and something clicked. They were truly his legion.
Then, as an arbiter of things to come, alarms blared. An attack. It was dispatched quickly enough, but that hint of bad luck would never go away. Truly having the Legion be, if not the unluckiest legions, than at least a contender for the title. How may that develop? Only time will tell.
Artie was scattered to the icy ocean world Galilean, where the surface is irradiated enough to kill an ork, only the subterranean oceans being habitable. Artie was found within an abandoned outpost by teams of Jovian Separatists, a faction of either freedom fighters or terrorists, depending on how one might see them.
He never agreed with the Jovian's views, and only about a year after he landed, he joined a new submarine crew. There's not much to note for the next period of his life. However, at the end of that period, he would begin his ascent to power when he "inherited" the ship after being the last survivor of a Mudraptor nest clearing gone wrong.
The crew of the Guiding Hand was already somewhat famous, under Artie, they became world-renowned. With such legendary exploits as fighting off a pair of Endworms, albeit with two submarines, he was able to be elected into a position of power within the Coalition.
Over the next decades, he began a campaign of clearing the Jovian Separatists from Galilean. Though mostly with his private network of submarines. He had a veritable fleet of them by this point. While Artie was still very much a politician, he became domestically popular as well thanks to his propensity to lead from the front.
Though finding the Church of the Husk abhorrent, he did find one notable part of their way of life, their use of gene splicers. A curious device that, as long as a sample is included, allows certain traits from animals to manifest in other animals. If removed, the body sees these additions as forgien and they are purged ra her quickly.
A lucky break would happen for Artie shortly after his interest in gene splicing waxed. An exploratory mission of the Abyssal depths, one of the submarines under his command found a legendary, if not near impossible, find. Endworm Eggs.
Artie pushed unbelievably hard to try and make a habitat for these creatures. If for no other reason than to study how they grow. When the wormlings began to grow big, they were killed and harvested. However, an (extremely unauthorized) experiment spliced a volunteer with Endworm genetics. The armor it manifested was enough to block most attacks, and it shortly became a valued splice for those who were willing to do so.
These new soldiers were the tipping point in the campaign against the Separatists. With the ability to fight and board with minimal losses, this allowed momentum to be built and maintained. After securing all but the most remote outposts, Artie consolidated his power and looked inwards. It might be some people's hell, but Galilean was his home, and it might be Humanity's last home.
But not long after this, visitors came from the stars, showing the light of a still breathing humanity.
——
The Corridor Breakers were a niche Legion. They excelled in boarding operations, enclosed spaces, and general CQC. That's not to say they were useless in open battle, but they'd much prefer a Hive City or underground tunnels. As such, they often deployed in Hive worlds, mining worlds, and so on.
When their primarch was found, they were, luckily, not engaged in any notable combat, so the majority of the Legion was able to go to meet him, after the usual Warp Troubles of course. Whatever they expected, an irradiated ball of ice was not what they expected. However, some basic infrastructure was built, and the most important members of the Legion were invited down into New Baltic Station, the de facto capital of Galilean.
If anything, the marines found the station familiar. Being showed the way by an armored guard, they went to their Primarch's office, finding him standing over a holomap. They made eye contact, and something clicked. They were truly his legion.
Then, as an arbiter of things to come, alarms blared. An attack. It was dispatched quickly enough, but that hint of bad luck would never go away. Truly having the Legion be, if not the unluckiest legions, than at least a contender for the title. How may that develop? Only time will tell.
Last edited:
Primarch Cu, and the Star Rangers
Hakhar, Primarch of the Scar Veterans
docs.google.com
Cu Caradog, Primarch of the Star Rangers
docs.google.com
Hakhar
Primarch App Hakhar, Primarch of the Scar Veterans Homeworld,Verdera,Death World,Primarch Perks,Master Fighter,200 Flaw,Boorish,Wrathful,Warp Resistant,500 Dark Age Technology (the Hand of God),500 Greater Adaptation (Saurian Strength),400 Virtue,Courageous,Spirited Specialty,Decapitation Strike...
Homeworld - Verdera
Verdera is a death world. The entire planet is a single massive jungle. A landscape is overrun by some of the most deadly flora and fauna in the entire galaxy, whose native inhabitants are but superstitious primitive living in isolated citadels, but it was not always thus.
Once Verdera was advanced and prosperous a Forge World of great repute and technology. The relentless push of industry had left Verdera's native life but a ruined twisted and mutated remnant of what is once was. Then came the Age of Strife, Verdera was left cut off from the agri-worlds that had once fed it's eternally hungry population. The planet verged on the edge of ruinous starvation. So the tech-magi that ruled Verdera devised a solution, they would take the stunted and twisted life that remained and subject it to gene-edits combined with the new psychic phenomena.
They succeeded only too well.
Choking and deadly life surged across Verdera, strangling the factories, destroying machines and slaying humans by the uncountable millions. The survivors fled into the strongest citadels and as years turned into millennia lost much of once they once had, forever fearful of the deadly predators that lurked in the jungle, and only tenuously aware of the other citadels.
History
Hakhar's arrival to Verdera went unacknowledged. The location of his pod is entirely unknown and the first rumours of his existance did not arrive until many years later. When one of the rare travellers between citadels discovered a predator, a massive saurian beast, that had been slain. Torn apart by something even more terrible than it. The traveller continued on his journey and was strangely undisturbed by even the most mild of dangers.
More years and more safe journeys brought with them rumours. Rumous of a Great Beast living in the jungles, a Great Beast that hunted predators but spared humans and even protected them. Slowly, on faltering steps, the citadels of Verdera began to make contact with each other and eventually a Grand Gathering began. The tech-magi of Verdera gathered at the citadel of Quekan where they argued fiercly on every topic, from the proper alignment of screws to the star charts that guided passage through the trackless jungles, but there was one thing they agreed on. They agreed that the Great Beast was a divine spirit of some kind and to retain his favour should be given sacrifices.
After offerings of precious metals and technology went untouched there was only one offering left, humans.
The first sacrifice was a success. A young tech-magi named Itzkoat had been taken by the Great Beast. But Itzkoat was not dead.
The Great Beast took young tech-magi into his lair. The Great Beast was humanoid, but saurian, covered in scales and armed with talons that tore flesh and carved stone with equal ease, but were strangely gentle as well. Itzkoat suffered not a single scratch as the Great Beast led him to his lair. More than simply strong the Great Beast was intelligent, and within a single day learned to speak fluently within the day. A week after being sacrificed Itzkoat returned to Quekan accompanied by the Great Beast who now had named himself Hakhar.
Hakhar was all but worshipped on Verdera, a guardian that protected humanity and a vengful champion that purged the jungle and drove back the predators. In return Hakhar gained knowledge, the knowledge of sacred technology and the machine-god. With Hakhar as their guardian the tech-magi delved deep into the jungle and recovered ancient technology long forgotten by mortal minds. But soon the jungle began to fight back. Not merely with the normal predators but with strange being that wielded mystic powers. These evil spirits lead a counter assault upon humanity one that Hakhar bitterly resisted, but inevitably the citadels fell. One after another they fell, and Hakhar was always the last defender. Unique among all the defenders he could resist the strange powers of the spirits. For Hakhar's efforts the people of Verdera lived even if their citadels fell. Technology and knowledge was salvaged and rescued. It was at Quekan that the humans of Verdera gathered for a final stand. Led by Hakhar they triumphed nine times against what the spirits and their enslaved predators could throw at them. But then a champion emerged among the darkness of the jungle. The Many-Coloured-Thing.
Thrice more the spirits assaulted Quekan and the Many-Coloured-Thing led them. Thrice did Hakhar and the Many-Coloured-Thing did battle. In the first Hakhar was triumphant. In the second the Many-Coloured-Thing emerged larger and stronger than ever and succeeded in tearing off Hakhar's left arm. Defeated, the humans retreated to the innermost fastness of Quekan where many waited for defeat and with it, extinction. But Itzkoat did not accept defeat, he had been delving deep into the labyrinth of Quekan and had found something, a golden weapon that shone with brilliant light and gave it to Hakhar. Once installed the golden weapon took on the image of a hand and arm and earned the name, the Hand of God. With the Hand of God Hakhar lead a counter attack.
Hakhar tore apart the spirits, each blow emitted golden light that scattered thousands of the evil creatures. Even the Many-Coloured-Thing quailed at Hakhar's fury and was ripped apart in turn.
Humanity had triumphed.
And then the Emperor arrived.
Hakhar and the tech-magi believing the Emperor to be the culmination of ancient prophecy swore fealty without question and began to worship him.
Despite the obvious mutations of both Hakhar and his legion the Emperor accepted him, albeit grudgingly. Perhaps because of this the Emperor has made use of the Scar Veterans as his hammer and sword, wherever he needs something terrible done he sends Hakhar. Hakhar for his part is heedless of the bloodstained reputation attaching itself to himself and his sons and does whatever is asked of him.
Verdera is a death world. The entire planet is a single massive jungle. A landscape is overrun by some of the most deadly flora and fauna in the entire galaxy, whose native inhabitants are but superstitious primitive living in isolated citadels, but it was not always thus.
Once Verdera was advanced and prosperous a Forge World of great repute and technology. The relentless push of industry had left Verdera's native life but a ruined twisted and mutated remnant of what is once was. Then came the Age of Strife, Verdera was left cut off from the agri-worlds that had once fed it's eternally hungry population. The planet verged on the edge of ruinous starvation. So the tech-magi that ruled Verdera devised a solution, they would take the stunted and twisted life that remained and subject it to gene-edits combined with the new psychic phenomena.
They succeeded only too well.
Choking and deadly life surged across Verdera, strangling the factories, destroying machines and slaying humans by the uncountable millions. The survivors fled into the strongest citadels and as years turned into millennia lost much of once they once had, forever fearful of the deadly predators that lurked in the jungle, and only tenuously aware of the other citadels.
History
Hakhar's arrival to Verdera went unacknowledged. The location of his pod is entirely unknown and the first rumours of his existance did not arrive until many years later. When one of the rare travellers between citadels discovered a predator, a massive saurian beast, that had been slain. Torn apart by something even more terrible than it. The traveller continued on his journey and was strangely undisturbed by even the most mild of dangers.
More years and more safe journeys brought with them rumours. Rumous of a Great Beast living in the jungles, a Great Beast that hunted predators but spared humans and even protected them. Slowly, on faltering steps, the citadels of Verdera began to make contact with each other and eventually a Grand Gathering began. The tech-magi of Verdera gathered at the citadel of Quekan where they argued fiercly on every topic, from the proper alignment of screws to the star charts that guided passage through the trackless jungles, but there was one thing they agreed on. They agreed that the Great Beast was a divine spirit of some kind and to retain his favour should be given sacrifices.
After offerings of precious metals and technology went untouched there was only one offering left, humans.
The first sacrifice was a success. A young tech-magi named Itzkoat had been taken by the Great Beast. But Itzkoat was not dead.
The Great Beast took young tech-magi into his lair. The Great Beast was humanoid, but saurian, covered in scales and armed with talons that tore flesh and carved stone with equal ease, but were strangely gentle as well. Itzkoat suffered not a single scratch as the Great Beast led him to his lair. More than simply strong the Great Beast was intelligent, and within a single day learned to speak fluently within the day. A week after being sacrificed Itzkoat returned to Quekan accompanied by the Great Beast who now had named himself Hakhar.
Hakhar was all but worshipped on Verdera, a guardian that protected humanity and a vengful champion that purged the jungle and drove back the predators. In return Hakhar gained knowledge, the knowledge of sacred technology and the machine-god. With Hakhar as their guardian the tech-magi delved deep into the jungle and recovered ancient technology long forgotten by mortal minds. But soon the jungle began to fight back. Not merely with the normal predators but with strange being that wielded mystic powers. These evil spirits lead a counter assault upon humanity one that Hakhar bitterly resisted, but inevitably the citadels fell. One after another they fell, and Hakhar was always the last defender. Unique among all the defenders he could resist the strange powers of the spirits. For Hakhar's efforts the people of Verdera lived even if their citadels fell. Technology and knowledge was salvaged and rescued. It was at Quekan that the humans of Verdera gathered for a final stand. Led by Hakhar they triumphed nine times against what the spirits and their enslaved predators could throw at them. But then a champion emerged among the darkness of the jungle. The Many-Coloured-Thing.
Thrice more the spirits assaulted Quekan and the Many-Coloured-Thing led them. Thrice did Hakhar and the Many-Coloured-Thing did battle. In the first Hakhar was triumphant. In the second the Many-Coloured-Thing emerged larger and stronger than ever and succeeded in tearing off Hakhar's left arm. Defeated, the humans retreated to the innermost fastness of Quekan where many waited for defeat and with it, extinction. But Itzkoat did not accept defeat, he had been delving deep into the labyrinth of Quekan and had found something, a golden weapon that shone with brilliant light and gave it to Hakhar. Once installed the golden weapon took on the image of a hand and arm and earned the name, the Hand of God. With the Hand of God Hakhar lead a counter attack.
Hakhar tore apart the spirits, each blow emitted golden light that scattered thousands of the evil creatures. Even the Many-Coloured-Thing quailed at Hakhar's fury and was ripped apart in turn.
Humanity had triumphed.
And then the Emperor arrived.
Hakhar and the tech-magi believing the Emperor to be the culmination of ancient prophecy swore fealty without question and began to worship him.
Despite the obvious mutations of both Hakhar and his legion the Emperor accepted him, albeit grudgingly. Perhaps because of this the Emperor has made use of the Scar Veterans as his hammer and sword, wherever he needs something terrible done he sends Hakhar. Hakhar for his part is heedless of the bloodstained reputation attaching itself to himself and his sons and does whatever is asked of him.
Cu Caradog, Primarch of the Star Rangers
Cu Caradog
Primarch App Cu Caradog of Rhyddlew, Primarch of the Star Rangers Homeworld,Rhyddlew,Feudal World,Primarch Perks,Master Fighter,200,Art credit Flaw,Curious,Rash,Explorer,200 Virtue,Witty,Intelligent,Virtuous,300,<a href="https://www.artstation.com/kheljay">https://www.artstation.com/kheljay</a> ...
Homeworld - Rhyddlew
Cu continues his homeworld's way of war into the stars. Ambush, raid, and guerilla strike always on the look out to improvise.
His homeworld of Rhyddlew is a strange one. Originally settled by convicts from a hive world to serve as the foundation of an agriworld. The Age of Strife put paid to that and the Rhyddlew quickly descended into feral anarchy. By the time Cu's pod arrived it had been progressed to the point of Feudal World dominated by a dynastic ruling class. These people claimed various titles prince, duke, king, and others but the world was divided.
However the colonial legacy marked Rhyddlew deeply. Abhuman strains are commonplace on the planet and broadly regarded as equals to the human plurality. Ogryn, Scalies, Ratlings, Felinids, and Floops are the most common abhumans on Rhyddlew. The last nearly as common as humans.
While the ruling class was predominantly human, many of the abhumans occupied specific roles in society, for example floops were often artisans, ogryn and scalies were elite warriors and shock troops.
The homeworld culture also has some strange marks of the old convict settlers, certain codes of honour and traditional titles share marked similarities with the hive ganger culture of nearby worlds.
Cu's legion and its auxiliaries bring this tradition of tolerance to the stars. Abhuman soldiers make up nearly half the Star Ranger's auxiliaries.
History
Cu landed in a backwater region of Rhyddlew. A place of hunters, bandits, thieves, and runaway serfs. Cu was adopted by a farmer and part time bandit named Caradog. The landing of the pod by happenstance slew Caradog's favourite hound. Finding himself unwilling to slay the strange boy from the stars in the name of vengeance, Caradog instead adopted the boy and attempted to treat him as a dog. This soon ended as before long Cu was as tall as his adopted father and twice as strong.
Cu swiflty made a name for himself as a raider and a thief. He lead bands out of the hills and into the fertile lowlands where he killed the nobles and stole whatever wasn't nailed down. Most famously he once snuck into the palace of High Prince Rhotri and stole his crown. As years and then decades passed Cu became ever more ambitious. Serfs, slaves, peasants and the oppressed flocked to his banner. The Hound of Rhyddlew was on the march.
Cu's light infantry and archers steadily wore and the scalie shock troops, ogryn warriors, and elite knights that served the princes of Rhyddlew. Wore them down and gained momentum for the moment where Cu Caradog could claim to be the true ruler of Rhyddlew, as the princes hid in their castles under eternal siege. One by one they surrendered, opening their stores for Cu's followers and sharing wealth horded for centuries.
This was the moment, the moment a great golden figure should have descended from the sky to awaken Cu to a greater destiny in the stars.
But he did not come.
Decades more passed as Cu occupied a place somewhere between High King and the ultimate judge. Anyone could come to Cu and ask his judgement or ask him to right a wrong. All were equal to Cu, the lowest pauper to the greatest prince. The most genetically pure human and the stupidest ogryn.
So when the Emperor finally did come at last, Cu was reluctant to leave, very reluctant. The two spoke for many days, before Cu accepted. Even then it was the sorry sight of his legion that did the most to convice Cu. The Lunar Hunters as the legion was called then had suffered a devastating defeat against orks and were much reduced in numbers and pride. But Cu saw in them a spark of spirit that he could foster. The Lunar Hunters were rechristened the Star Rangers and on Rhyddlew were rebuilt from the ground up and even the most stalwart Terran veteran took up Rhydd culture with gusto.
Left broadly to his own devices Cu now does what he does best. He roves and ranges on the Imperium's borders and beyond it. He targets and weakens the enemy before they even know what's happening.
Cu continues his homeworld's way of war into the stars. Ambush, raid, and guerilla strike always on the look out to improvise.
His homeworld of Rhyddlew is a strange one. Originally settled by convicts from a hive world to serve as the foundation of an agriworld. The Age of Strife put paid to that and the Rhyddlew quickly descended into feral anarchy. By the time Cu's pod arrived it had been progressed to the point of Feudal World dominated by a dynastic ruling class. These people claimed various titles prince, duke, king, and others but the world was divided.
However the colonial legacy marked Rhyddlew deeply. Abhuman strains are commonplace on the planet and broadly regarded as equals to the human plurality. Ogryn, Scalies, Ratlings, Felinids, and Floops are the most common abhumans on Rhyddlew. The last nearly as common as humans.
While the ruling class was predominantly human, many of the abhumans occupied specific roles in society, for example floops were often artisans, ogryn and scalies were elite warriors and shock troops.
The homeworld culture also has some strange marks of the old convict settlers, certain codes of honour and traditional titles share marked similarities with the hive ganger culture of nearby worlds.
Cu's legion and its auxiliaries bring this tradition of tolerance to the stars. Abhuman soldiers make up nearly half the Star Ranger's auxiliaries.
History
Cu landed in a backwater region of Rhyddlew. A place of hunters, bandits, thieves, and runaway serfs. Cu was adopted by a farmer and part time bandit named Caradog. The landing of the pod by happenstance slew Caradog's favourite hound. Finding himself unwilling to slay the strange boy from the stars in the name of vengeance, Caradog instead adopted the boy and attempted to treat him as a dog. This soon ended as before long Cu was as tall as his adopted father and twice as strong.
Cu swiflty made a name for himself as a raider and a thief. He lead bands out of the hills and into the fertile lowlands where he killed the nobles and stole whatever wasn't nailed down. Most famously he once snuck into the palace of High Prince Rhotri and stole his crown. As years and then decades passed Cu became ever more ambitious. Serfs, slaves, peasants and the oppressed flocked to his banner. The Hound of Rhyddlew was on the march.
Cu's light infantry and archers steadily wore and the scalie shock troops, ogryn warriors, and elite knights that served the princes of Rhyddlew. Wore them down and gained momentum for the moment where Cu Caradog could claim to be the true ruler of Rhyddlew, as the princes hid in their castles under eternal siege. One by one they surrendered, opening their stores for Cu's followers and sharing wealth horded for centuries.
This was the moment, the moment a great golden figure should have descended from the sky to awaken Cu to a greater destiny in the stars.
But he did not come.
Decades more passed as Cu occupied a place somewhere between High King and the ultimate judge. Anyone could come to Cu and ask his judgement or ask him to right a wrong. All were equal to Cu, the lowest pauper to the greatest prince. The most genetically pure human and the stupidest ogryn.
So when the Emperor finally did come at last, Cu was reluctant to leave, very reluctant. The two spoke for many days, before Cu accepted. Even then it was the sorry sight of his legion that did the most to convice Cu. The Lunar Hunters as the legion was called then had suffered a devastating defeat against orks and were much reduced in numbers and pride. But Cu saw in them a spark of spirit that he could foster. The Lunar Hunters were rechristened the Star Rangers and on Rhyddlew were rebuilt from the ground up and even the most stalwart Terran veteran took up Rhydd culture with gusto.
Left broadly to his own devices Cu now does what he does best. He roves and ranges on the Imperium's borders and beyond it. He targets and weakens the enemy before they even know what's happening.
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CommanderBlade
Blade Commander
- Location
- Vale
Korr Helot and his Legion the Hell Hounds are some of the more reviled of the Twenty. Korr Helot was found late into the Great Crusade on the death world of Pavim. Pavim was a deadly world that hosted immense Jungles, deadly tundras, and various other environments. Whose flora and fauna are considered monstrous and are highly lethal.
Korr landed in the northern hemisphere among the great plains where he was found by a nomadic tribe of humans who best emulate the various nomadic peoples of ancient Earth. Growing up he was raised to be both a Warrior and a Tradesmen. Fighting to protect his people as well as how to communicate and trade with others. Everything was fine until around 17 after his adoption into the tribe. His tribe made contact with a powerful Nation to the far east. This Nation was called The Zarnen Empire. The first contact with the Zarnen was violent as they attacked the tribe seeking to capture them for their slave pits.
Korr put up a valiant fight but was overwhelmed with numbers and better weapons and while Korr's wounds healed quickly eventually the sheer amount rendered him unconscious enough to be taken. His next waking moment was in a cage being transported aboard a simple cart. It was from here he was taken to the slave pits where he was forced into training as a Slave Foot Soldier. A somewhat common form of soldier for the Zarnen Empire to use as Cannon Fodder. Armed with shield, Spear, and Short sword. They made up the great shield walls of the Empire. First to fight and first to die.
For years Korr fought battle after battle. All the while he waited. Biding his time knowing full well he could easily escape but avoiding it due to his fellow tribesmen who fought alongside him. All the while learning how the Zarnen fought. They fought in rigid lines of Shields and spears. Advancing as a unit to break the enemies own wall before devolving into a hacking and slashing frenzy. Vastly different from his tribes more individual and loose combat doctrine.
Finally after waiting for the perfect time Korr lead a grand uprising of slaves against the Zarnen Empire and fought a long and bloody war with the Zarnen in which saw the complete destruction and collapse of Zarnen Society and Government. The ashes saw hundreds of petty warlords arise to try and fill the vacuum. That is until the Emperor arrived at the head of his Golden Host. The Emperor found Korr amidst a bloody field where Korr fell to his knees and vowed loyalty to his father. He would depart his Homeworld and be brought to Terra. While on Terra learning he would be approached by a high ranking member of the Mechanicum who would take him under their wing. Introducing Korr to modern technology and starting a deep seated desire to learn more. Absorbing the new knowledge like a dry sponge being dunked into water. This was what Korr considered the best years of his life. Learning all he could under the eye of a master of their craft.
Upon being declared fit to lead Korr would take command of his Legion and strike a bloody swath across the Galaxy. The early days of the his time in the legion was marked with horror as it became clear that his son's where nothing more then slobbering beasts in armor. As they consumed the world's they fought on.
Korr would strive to change his Legion and managed to introduce new traditions and methods. He halted the wholesale butchery of worlds that where brought to compliance with little to no bloodshed. Although the demand of the Flesh Tithe always left a sour taste in the population of the world's he conquered.
Among the changes came concessions on Korr's part. He would join his son's in their feasts of flesh. As a sign that while Korr brought change he also would respect the traditions of the Legion. Seeking to bring order to chaos without completely wiping away the Legions Practices.
This would see Korr find out that he loved the flesh of the slain. Ever since that first feast Korr has battled his inner self. An inner self that loves bloody slaughter and blood soaked feasts. Ever growing stronger and always at the forefront. To the point that Korr has lost himself in his addiction on several occasions which has seen hundreds of thousands of Imperial Army personal slaughtered and entire cities depopulated at his hand. Garnering Korr a bloody reputation.
This directly has lead to Korr's forces not receiving Auxiliary Troops and having the Auxiliary Navy Elements retasked to other Legions. A move that some of his siblings thought would properly shame him. His siblings are fools. This redirection of assets has actually been a boon in Korr's eyes. It means less eyes are directed on him. Less mouths to speak of what he does beyond the boarders of the Imperium.
The Hell Hounds
The Hell Hounds are one of the youngest Legions by far. It's unknown why they were created so late but the importance is that since their creation they have carved paths through the Galaxy filled with blood. While also becoming monsters to be feared. This is due to the Legions practice of consuming the dead. Before their Primarch was found they would rip a bloody path through the Galaxy sometimes eating entire populations in heinous scenes of carnage. Streets and rivers would run red as the Hell Hounds gorged themselves on the people.
When Korr took over the Legion he was at first dismayed by the reputation and attitude of the Legion. This at first cause severe friction between them until a compromise was made. Korr would allow for the consumption of Flesh to occur and would take part. But they wouldn't wholesale slaughter populations like chattel. Instead they would feast upon the fallen enemies consuming them to gain their strength and genetic traits as needed. No need to butcher the entire population as Cattle. After these changes Korr would go on to form two elite groups within his Legion.
The first was an offshoot of the Apothecaries. Known to the Hell Hounds as Shapers they would comb the battlefield after a battle and collect dead battle brothers and search through the enemy dead to pick out specimens that have genetic traits that are desirable to introduce to their Companies. Once that is accomplished the Shapers carve the dead meat, and bone and begin to portion out the flesh among the company. They give the best cuts to the newest Astartes then proceed from there. Every company differs in subtle ways due to the will of the Shapers that literally shape their Companies
The second Group of elites that Korr developed are the Legions primer Assault Marines. Referred to as the Hounds they would quickly enter combat and engage the enemy with a ferocity that was next to impossible to resist. Many of these Hounds would sport stylized designs on their helmets that made them seem like the maws of a hound closing. The Hounds are selected from those among the Legion that have traits that aid in close quarters combat and sheer ferocity. Many have consumed Orks, flying creatures, and many predators that are fast and powerful. Many of the Hounds sport Wings, matched with horns and or fangs. Combined with a larger size and greater speed.
The Flesh Tithe
The Flesh Tithe is the process by which the Legion grows and replaces losses. After every battle in which a world is brought to heel that has human inhabitants a tithe is declared in which by lots or by class depending on Korr's mood families are forced to give up their children to the Hell Hounds. Both Boys and Girls are taken into the Fleet and depart from their Homeworlds. Many of them never returning. The Male children will become Aspirents seeking to join the ranks of the Hell Hounds as new Astartes. Some of them will. The others either will die or become Legion Serfs or ship crew.
The Female Children become Legion Serfs or more likely join the ship Crews as Apprentices. This has lead to large gender imbalance among the ship Crews with a majority of females being present over the males.
In this form the Legion would begin to pick up steam as they brought countless planets into the fold. Or wiped them clean of all live both Xeno and Human.
That was until the Legion committed a horrible act in the heat of battle. That has seen the Censure of the Legion. During battle a squad of Custodes had accompanied the Legion into battle during which while in a frenzy a Company of Hell Hounds descended upon the Custodes and slew one. The Company was wiped out by the surviving Custodes.
Before Korr could do anything the Custodes departed reporting back to the Emperor. What happened next was the shaming of the Legion and the Humiliation of Korr as they saw the Legion stripped of many of their relics as well as Korr stripped of much of his armor and weapons barring a simple set of armor and a Bolter and Chainsword. With that the Hell Hounds have gone even further into self isolation at the far reaches of Imperial space losing themselves into the debachery of slaughter as they come to grips with their new found shame.
Korr landed in the northern hemisphere among the great plains where he was found by a nomadic tribe of humans who best emulate the various nomadic peoples of ancient Earth. Growing up he was raised to be both a Warrior and a Tradesmen. Fighting to protect his people as well as how to communicate and trade with others. Everything was fine until around 17 after his adoption into the tribe. His tribe made contact with a powerful Nation to the far east. This Nation was called The Zarnen Empire. The first contact with the Zarnen was violent as they attacked the tribe seeking to capture them for their slave pits.
Korr put up a valiant fight but was overwhelmed with numbers and better weapons and while Korr's wounds healed quickly eventually the sheer amount rendered him unconscious enough to be taken. His next waking moment was in a cage being transported aboard a simple cart. It was from here he was taken to the slave pits where he was forced into training as a Slave Foot Soldier. A somewhat common form of soldier for the Zarnen Empire to use as Cannon Fodder. Armed with shield, Spear, and Short sword. They made up the great shield walls of the Empire. First to fight and first to die.
For years Korr fought battle after battle. All the while he waited. Biding his time knowing full well he could easily escape but avoiding it due to his fellow tribesmen who fought alongside him. All the while learning how the Zarnen fought. They fought in rigid lines of Shields and spears. Advancing as a unit to break the enemies own wall before devolving into a hacking and slashing frenzy. Vastly different from his tribes more individual and loose combat doctrine.
Finally after waiting for the perfect time Korr lead a grand uprising of slaves against the Zarnen Empire and fought a long and bloody war with the Zarnen in which saw the complete destruction and collapse of Zarnen Society and Government. The ashes saw hundreds of petty warlords arise to try and fill the vacuum. That is until the Emperor arrived at the head of his Golden Host. The Emperor found Korr amidst a bloody field where Korr fell to his knees and vowed loyalty to his father. He would depart his Homeworld and be brought to Terra. While on Terra learning he would be approached by a high ranking member of the Mechanicum who would take him under their wing. Introducing Korr to modern technology and starting a deep seated desire to learn more. Absorbing the new knowledge like a dry sponge being dunked into water. This was what Korr considered the best years of his life. Learning all he could under the eye of a master of their craft.
Upon being declared fit to lead Korr would take command of his Legion and strike a bloody swath across the Galaxy. The early days of the his time in the legion was marked with horror as it became clear that his son's where nothing more then slobbering beasts in armor. As they consumed the world's they fought on.
Korr would strive to change his Legion and managed to introduce new traditions and methods. He halted the wholesale butchery of worlds that where brought to compliance with little to no bloodshed. Although the demand of the Flesh Tithe always left a sour taste in the population of the world's he conquered.
Among the changes came concessions on Korr's part. He would join his son's in their feasts of flesh. As a sign that while Korr brought change he also would respect the traditions of the Legion. Seeking to bring order to chaos without completely wiping away the Legions Practices.
This would see Korr find out that he loved the flesh of the slain. Ever since that first feast Korr has battled his inner self. An inner self that loves bloody slaughter and blood soaked feasts. Ever growing stronger and always at the forefront. To the point that Korr has lost himself in his addiction on several occasions which has seen hundreds of thousands of Imperial Army personal slaughtered and entire cities depopulated at his hand. Garnering Korr a bloody reputation.
This directly has lead to Korr's forces not receiving Auxiliary Troops and having the Auxiliary Navy Elements retasked to other Legions. A move that some of his siblings thought would properly shame him. His siblings are fools. This redirection of assets has actually been a boon in Korr's eyes. It means less eyes are directed on him. Less mouths to speak of what he does beyond the boarders of the Imperium.
The Hell Hounds
The Hell Hounds are one of the youngest Legions by far. It's unknown why they were created so late but the importance is that since their creation they have carved paths through the Galaxy filled with blood. While also becoming monsters to be feared. This is due to the Legions practice of consuming the dead. Before their Primarch was found they would rip a bloody path through the Galaxy sometimes eating entire populations in heinous scenes of carnage. Streets and rivers would run red as the Hell Hounds gorged themselves on the people.
When Korr took over the Legion he was at first dismayed by the reputation and attitude of the Legion. This at first cause severe friction between them until a compromise was made. Korr would allow for the consumption of Flesh to occur and would take part. But they wouldn't wholesale slaughter populations like chattel. Instead they would feast upon the fallen enemies consuming them to gain their strength and genetic traits as needed. No need to butcher the entire population as Cattle. After these changes Korr would go on to form two elite groups within his Legion.
The first was an offshoot of the Apothecaries. Known to the Hell Hounds as Shapers they would comb the battlefield after a battle and collect dead battle brothers and search through the enemy dead to pick out specimens that have genetic traits that are desirable to introduce to their Companies. Once that is accomplished the Shapers carve the dead meat, and bone and begin to portion out the flesh among the company. They give the best cuts to the newest Astartes then proceed from there. Every company differs in subtle ways due to the will of the Shapers that literally shape their Companies
The second Group of elites that Korr developed are the Legions primer Assault Marines. Referred to as the Hounds they would quickly enter combat and engage the enemy with a ferocity that was next to impossible to resist. Many of these Hounds would sport stylized designs on their helmets that made them seem like the maws of a hound closing. The Hounds are selected from those among the Legion that have traits that aid in close quarters combat and sheer ferocity. Many have consumed Orks, flying creatures, and many predators that are fast and powerful. Many of the Hounds sport Wings, matched with horns and or fangs. Combined with a larger size and greater speed.
The Flesh Tithe
The Flesh Tithe is the process by which the Legion grows and replaces losses. After every battle in which a world is brought to heel that has human inhabitants a tithe is declared in which by lots or by class depending on Korr's mood families are forced to give up their children to the Hell Hounds. Both Boys and Girls are taken into the Fleet and depart from their Homeworlds. Many of them never returning. The Male children will become Aspirents seeking to join the ranks of the Hell Hounds as new Astartes. Some of them will. The others either will die or become Legion Serfs or ship crew.
The Female Children become Legion Serfs or more likely join the ship Crews as Apprentices. This has lead to large gender imbalance among the ship Crews with a majority of females being present over the males.
In this form the Legion would begin to pick up steam as they brought countless planets into the fold. Or wiped them clean of all live both Xeno and Human.
That was until the Legion committed a horrible act in the heat of battle. That has seen the Censure of the Legion. During battle a squad of Custodes had accompanied the Legion into battle during which while in a frenzy a Company of Hell Hounds descended upon the Custodes and slew one. The Company was wiped out by the surviving Custodes.
Before Korr could do anything the Custodes departed reporting back to the Emperor. What happened next was the shaming of the Legion and the Humiliation of Korr as they saw the Legion stripped of many of their relics as well as Korr stripped of much of his armor and weapons barring a simple set of armor and a Bolter and Chainsword. With that the Hell Hounds have gone even further into self isolation at the far reaches of Imperial space losing themselves into the debachery of slaughter as they come to grips with their new found shame.
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Primarch Indrajan, and the Blazing Wheels
Kaboomatic
Where the Wild Things Are
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Indrajan Flametongue
The post-discovery lore is on his sheet, in notes on perks and flaws. Intentionally left sparse on account of me not knowing who's gonna be accepted and what other primarchs I'd be playing with.
Naraka, a world at war. Gang war, clan war, corporate war, every sort of war but the open kind. biker clans and barbarian raiders killed and died for what sparse resources existed outside of the hives, while robbing and killing any hive-dwellers desperate enough to cross the hellish plains. Gangs and syndicates bled for every hab-block and foundry, staking claim to people and property alike. Warlords had appeared before, unifying figures that seemed destined to conquer the warring factions. Each and every time one rose, they fell just as quickly, and their burgeoning empires fractured into bitter factionalism. It seemed as if Naraka would remain a lawless hellscape forever, bereft of any conqueror strong enough to hold the world and its inhabitants together.
The pod carrying Indrajan Laksir crash-landed into the largest hive on Naraka, punching through dozens of layers of hive and hab-block, before eventually disgorging its cargo into a dimly lit room, filled with smoke and the scent of alcohol. Surprisingly enough, this didn't actually kill any of the various gang bosses, contract killers, barbarian raiders, and other such ne'er do-wells who were ignoring their burning animosity for each other to drink amicably within the bar. Upon seeing an enormous baby giggling on the bar floor, the assorted criminal scum looked around, asked if anyone was going to adopt that kid, and didn't wait for an answer.
And so Indrajan grew up in one of the very few safe zones in Naraka, the rare bars and oases where hardened criminals leave their animosity at the door and allow themselves to relax. He was raised communally, picking up bits and pieces from every assassin and racketeer that stepped through the door, and grew as fond of his caretakers as they were of him. Indeed, on the rare occasions when an teenage Indrajan left his bar (and it was his bar at this point; one of the first things he'd learned as a child was how to mix a wide variety of overpriced cocktails) he was considered a mobile safe-zone. Nobody was about to hurt the kid they'd sort-of raised.
That being said, it wasn't like Indrajan was blind. He saw the fighting, the killing, the dying. The people who raised him and the kids he grew up with murdered each other in the streets. And he didn't really like that, for obvious reasons. But Indrajan wasn't about to do something that wouldn't work. No matter how much people liked him, they wouldn't halt centuries of animosity for nothing. He needed something more concrete, something that played off the fierce sense of honor and oaths that the people of Naraka held.
So, the smoky rooms of Indrajan's bar gained a new service. Information. The primarch began taking the role of a fixer, a broker, a trader of favors and giver of advice. All public information was available for purchase, regardless of the difficulty in obtaining that 'public' information. And all it would cost was a drink at the bar and a favor for Indrajan - to be called in at a later date, of course. The first few months weren't the best for him - after all, information gained inside the safe zone would be used to get an advantage outside of its walls, and that meant more people dying. People dying because of him.
Still, despite the toll such a plan took on Indrajan's conscience, it worked. Within months, the web of favors and advice he'd woven was ready to be tugged on. So, Indrajan began tugging. Favors were traded, debts were collected, markers were called in. Meetings upon meetings were conducted at Indrajan's barfront, meetings of alliance and reconciliation and partnership. Mixing drinks and serving patrons, Indrajan didn't just make the warring factions of his hab-block work together, he made them want to.
Then he kept going. With the entire hab-block as a safe zone, Indrajan did the same thing he did before, but on a larger scale. Information brokerage. Favor trading. Advice and safe zones and a wealth of booze. Meetings on meetings, brokering treaties between bitter enemies as he poured them cocktails. A perpetual engine of peace that would cover the planet.
There were holdouts, of course. There always are. People who'd grown wealthy and powerful off of conflict, who saw it in their best interests to continue the gang war. People who just enjoyed using and abusing the citizens of Naraka. Those, the utterly irredeemable, Indrajan killed. He didn't much like it, but there was nothing on Naraka that could stand against a primarch. Besides, he sure as hell wasn't about to order someone's death if he didn't have the guts to kill them himself.
But by and large, it worked. Over and over, it kept on working. Here, Indrajan honed his skills as a dealmaker and diplomat, and a fractious world of mortal humans was nothing in the face of a Primarch. For the first time in its history, it appeared as if Naraka would be unified. Not through violence and conquest and yet more blood, but through treaties, diplomacy, agreements. Favors and information, leveraged towards peace.
If the Imperial fleet hadn't been delayed by a minor warp storm, maybe this would've been proven false.
But by the time golden ships hovered over low-Narak orbit, Indrajan had finished drafting his treaty. As the Emperor first stepped foot on Narak's hell-blasted soil, the leaders of the world had gathered in Indrajan's bar, where it all began. The first time Indrajan Flametongue met the man he immediately knew as his father, the Primarch's signature - last written of all present - had just finished drying on the parchment of his treaty.
From crash-landing to global summit, it had only been 20 years.
The pod carrying Indrajan Laksir crash-landed into the largest hive on Naraka, punching through dozens of layers of hive and hab-block, before eventually disgorging its cargo into a dimly lit room, filled with smoke and the scent of alcohol. Surprisingly enough, this didn't actually kill any of the various gang bosses, contract killers, barbarian raiders, and other such ne'er do-wells who were ignoring their burning animosity for each other to drink amicably within the bar. Upon seeing an enormous baby giggling on the bar floor, the assorted criminal scum looked around, asked if anyone was going to adopt that kid, and didn't wait for an answer.
And so Indrajan grew up in one of the very few safe zones in Naraka, the rare bars and oases where hardened criminals leave their animosity at the door and allow themselves to relax. He was raised communally, picking up bits and pieces from every assassin and racketeer that stepped through the door, and grew as fond of his caretakers as they were of him. Indeed, on the rare occasions when an teenage Indrajan left his bar (and it was his bar at this point; one of the first things he'd learned as a child was how to mix a wide variety of overpriced cocktails) he was considered a mobile safe-zone. Nobody was about to hurt the kid they'd sort-of raised.
That being said, it wasn't like Indrajan was blind. He saw the fighting, the killing, the dying. The people who raised him and the kids he grew up with murdered each other in the streets. And he didn't really like that, for obvious reasons. But Indrajan wasn't about to do something that wouldn't work. No matter how much people liked him, they wouldn't halt centuries of animosity for nothing. He needed something more concrete, something that played off the fierce sense of honor and oaths that the people of Naraka held.
So, the smoky rooms of Indrajan's bar gained a new service. Information. The primarch began taking the role of a fixer, a broker, a trader of favors and giver of advice. All public information was available for purchase, regardless of the difficulty in obtaining that 'public' information. And all it would cost was a drink at the bar and a favor for Indrajan - to be called in at a later date, of course. The first few months weren't the best for him - after all, information gained inside the safe zone would be used to get an advantage outside of its walls, and that meant more people dying. People dying because of him.
Still, despite the toll such a plan took on Indrajan's conscience, it worked. Within months, the web of favors and advice he'd woven was ready to be tugged on. So, Indrajan began tugging. Favors were traded, debts were collected, markers were called in. Meetings upon meetings were conducted at Indrajan's barfront, meetings of alliance and reconciliation and partnership. Mixing drinks and serving patrons, Indrajan didn't just make the warring factions of his hab-block work together, he made them want to.
Then he kept going. With the entire hab-block as a safe zone, Indrajan did the same thing he did before, but on a larger scale. Information brokerage. Favor trading. Advice and safe zones and a wealth of booze. Meetings on meetings, brokering treaties between bitter enemies as he poured them cocktails. A perpetual engine of peace that would cover the planet.
There were holdouts, of course. There always are. People who'd grown wealthy and powerful off of conflict, who saw it in their best interests to continue the gang war. People who just enjoyed using and abusing the citizens of Naraka. Those, the utterly irredeemable, Indrajan killed. He didn't much like it, but there was nothing on Naraka that could stand against a primarch. Besides, he sure as hell wasn't about to order someone's death if he didn't have the guts to kill them himself.
But by and large, it worked. Over and over, it kept on working. Here, Indrajan honed his skills as a dealmaker and diplomat, and a fractious world of mortal humans was nothing in the face of a Primarch. For the first time in its history, it appeared as if Naraka would be unified. Not through violence and conquest and yet more blood, but through treaties, diplomacy, agreements. Favors and information, leveraged towards peace.
If the Imperial fleet hadn't been delayed by a minor warp storm, maybe this would've been proven false.
But by the time golden ships hovered over low-Narak orbit, Indrajan had finished drafting his treaty. As the Emperor first stepped foot on Narak's hell-blasted soil, the leaders of the world had gathered in Indrajan's bar, where it all began. The first time Indrajan Flametongue met the man he immediately knew as his father, the Primarch's signature - last written of all present - had just finished drying on the parchment of his treaty.
From crash-landing to global summit, it had only been 20 years.
The post-discovery lore is on his sheet, in notes on perks and flaws. Intentionally left sparse on account of me not knowing who's gonna be accepted and what other primarchs I'd be playing with.
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- Location
- Canada
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Era Of Fiery Suns , Night Host Application
Primarch Sheet Primarch Dantius Corvethon,Perks,Skilled,100 Legion Vault,300 Terra,Homeworld STC,400 Vices,Virtues Secretive,Greedy,Paranoid,Ambitious Wrathful,Curious,Envious Apathetic,Spirited The Night Host,Flaws,Rival x2,-600 Rival (Preservation Mechanicum),-300 Specialities,Infiltration, In...
The Night Host (What if a Sicilian Mafia Don was a Primarch?)
The Night Host are masters of espionage and serve as the advance guard for teh Imperium of Man - moving amongst their enemies, identifying the essential targets and paving the way for landings by eliminating key C2 nodes and defenses as the attack begins. Their focus on non-conventional warfare places them as an outlier, but an essential part of the Great Crusade.
The Legion is not without fault, as its Primarch is of the belief that anything that advances the cause of the Imperium should be leveraged, an approach that his brought him into contention time and again with the conservative faction of the Mechanicum, from the day of his discovery and the Homeworld STC to the later campaign where Dantius Corvethon recovered a Dark Age of Technology Vessel that now serves as his Flagship. Openly flaunting the demand from the Conservative faction that he turn the vessel over for study, his Legion was Censured however through the leveraging of many favors, he avoid the imposition of a Legion Reduction, a penalty the conservatives in the Mechanicum called for and he narrowly avoided. What the favors owed will cost him is a story yet unfinished.
Alternate App - Nina Hallexiore of the Progressive Mechanicum
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
So far there are 23 Applicants. And as such it is no longer guarantied that everyone gets in and as such I wish everyone the best of luck.
Primarch Morgaine, and the Lion Knights
Steel Wolves/Lion Knights
Primarch and Legion Morgaine Priamdrhaig Albion: Death World Vices,Virtues Self-Depreciating,Paranoid,Industrious,Empathetic Lion Knights Specialities,Attritional Warfare,Fortification,Grand Strategy,600 Strength,High,100 Legion Navy,Medium,0 Flagship,Glorianna: Warspite,0 Favored Enemy,Rogue P...
Lore found on sheet and in homeworld doc
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Olorun Olaitan, Warlord of the Golden Horde
To the larger Imperium, Olorun could have appeared as a loyal hero, constantly on the frontline of the Great Crusade leading his men steel bow in hand always the first to advocate further progress, always the first to leave for the next destination.
Sadly, Olaitan's reputation as a Xenophile Slave Trader, Greedy and Wrathful individual ready to do everything for profit has cast some shadows on his pristine image. At least this is what he believes the galaxy and wider Imperium sees him as. He's not stopping to make sure until he hits the furthest edge of the Milky Way, and beyond if necessary.
It all started as most primarch tales start. A pod crash landed on a foreign planet after it had been violently spat out by the Warp. Young Olaitan for his part landed on Amasha a lush and verdant Pangaea planet -with a deserty side- of a thousand jungles and even as many species. Indeed, Amasha was originally the name of a DAOT Federation cruise ship, inhabited by the upper crust of human space and their numerous tributaries or allies -depending on which lore seeker you ask-.
When the chaos of the Age of Strife unraveled, the poor ship crash landed upon the planet and its modern population are as such a mixture of xeno, humans and hybrid beyond reckoning. However, with such a huge diversity, division ran more along the sides of religion, or even to which tribe one belonged and the notion of one species superiority was seen as normal -of course we're better than the others!- but ultimately secondary.
Everything changed with the Unifier's arrival or rather the Maker of chains. You seen Olaitan was found by a small tribal kingdom's hunter in what would have been the start of its expansion phase. Seen as a gift from the Sky Founders, he was raised to the best of their ability to bring glory to his home: one being at a time.
Young Olaitan was indeed beyond crafty, but he was also a Son of He Who Rules on Terra, and as such made to view mankind as superior. Propaganda campaign were ran with the human majority to separate themselves from their former xeno compatriots while Olaitan personally broke very single bastion of resistance until all that remained in his dominion was mankind and subservient enchained xenos.
He then travelled the world for years, bringing his new ideas to willing rulers or dangerous rebels and slowly sending his world spiralling into the all compassing shadow of war. And then, the Horde advanced.
Without mercy, his newly forged army advanced across the land, destroying empire's and cities centuries in the making, enchaining their populations and selling them to their rivals, for weapons, ressources or even as gifts to aquire prestige
The Great Leaders of the land, still embroiled in their own species conflicts initially saw him as a useful asset to make a quick buck in slave without even mounting any expedition. And what could a remote savage do to the great Empire's of the plains? But Olorun continued advancing, destroying bigger and bigger polities until even the Great empires had fallen. And then legends said he wept as he gazed the stars, for he could not reach them but he knew of what awaited him beyond his reach. More land to plunder: profit, glory and more importantly xenos.
And as he wept across the highest peak for one day and one night, as his men fought bitterly crushing any would be slave revolt with unseen cruelty the Crusade found him and with it: his Father.
Nobody knows what unraveled this day between the two, but ever since he pledged his loyalty to his Father, the Stellar Host has joined their father as one Golden Horde, plundering and rampaging the territories outside of the Imperium. Never stopping for long, selling xenos to other xenos for rare technology, ships and even information.
Only Olaitan knows what he has seen this day, and only he knows of the thing upon Terra.
To the larger Imperium, Olorun could have appeared as a loyal hero, constantly on the frontline of the Great Crusade leading his men steel bow in hand always the first to advocate further progress, always the first to leave for the next destination.
Sadly, Olaitan's reputation as a Xenophile Slave Trader, Greedy and Wrathful individual ready to do everything for profit has cast some shadows on his pristine image. At least this is what he believes the galaxy and wider Imperium sees him as. He's not stopping to make sure until he hits the furthest edge of the Milky Way, and beyond if necessary.
It all started as most primarch tales start. A pod crash landed on a foreign planet after it had been violently spat out by the Warp. Young Olaitan for his part landed on Amasha a lush and verdant Pangaea planet -with a deserty side- of a thousand jungles and even as many species. Indeed, Amasha was originally the name of a DAOT Federation cruise ship, inhabited by the upper crust of human space and their numerous tributaries or allies -depending on which lore seeker you ask-.
When the chaos of the Age of Strife unraveled, the poor ship crash landed upon the planet and its modern population are as such a mixture of xeno, humans and hybrid beyond reckoning. However, with such a huge diversity, division ran more along the sides of religion, or even to which tribe one belonged and the notion of one species superiority was seen as normal -of course we're better than the others!- but ultimately secondary.
Everything changed with the Unifier's arrival or rather the Maker of chains. You seen Olaitan was found by a small tribal kingdom's hunter in what would have been the start of its expansion phase. Seen as a gift from the Sky Founders, he was raised to the best of their ability to bring glory to his home: one being at a time.
Young Olaitan was indeed beyond crafty, but he was also a Son of He Who Rules on Terra, and as such made to view mankind as superior. Propaganda campaign were ran with the human majority to separate themselves from their former xeno compatriots while Olaitan personally broke very single bastion of resistance until all that remained in his dominion was mankind and subservient enchained xenos.
He then travelled the world for years, bringing his new ideas to willing rulers or dangerous rebels and slowly sending his world spiralling into the all compassing shadow of war. And then, the Horde advanced.
Without mercy, his newly forged army advanced across the land, destroying empire's and cities centuries in the making, enchaining their populations and selling them to their rivals, for weapons, ressources or even as gifts to aquire prestige
The Great Leaders of the land, still embroiled in their own species conflicts initially saw him as a useful asset to make a quick buck in slave without even mounting any expedition. And what could a remote savage do to the great Empire's of the plains? But Olorun continued advancing, destroying bigger and bigger polities until even the Great empires had fallen. And then legends said he wept as he gazed the stars, for he could not reach them but he knew of what awaited him beyond his reach. More land to plunder: profit, glory and more importantly xenos.
And as he wept across the highest peak for one day and one night, as his men fought bitterly crushing any would be slave revolt with unseen cruelty the Crusade found him and with it: his Father.
Nobody knows what unraveled this day between the two, but ever since he pledged his loyalty to his Father, the Stellar Host has joined their father as one Golden Horde, plundering and rampaging the territories outside of the Imperium. Never stopping for long, selling xenos to other xenos for rare technology, ships and even information.
Only Olaitan knows what he has seen this day, and only he knows of the thing upon Terra.
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Amos Vrake
Primarch of the Golden Word
Perhaps if it were not for the warp's machinations and the arrival of the gene-crafted child, the galaxy might have been content to overlook the lonely world of Hain. Hain; where pitch black trees arched impossibly upwards into a dull white sky, the faintly visibly branches at their apex grasping at the firmament. Where antediluvian war machines, long since stripped to the bone, are coated by thin layer of crystalline snow that glimmers and shines even at night. Where ancient wooden monasteries rest under the auspices of vast and terrible mountains, a traveller might find comfort here but they are not permitted to linger. Quiet and melancholy, Hain was content to be left forgotten to the Cosmos and ultimately fade from it entirely. Primarch of the Golden Word
The child's arrival was one of flame and screeching discordance.
A pod careening down from heaven, ancient trees that had lived to see unspeakable things now shattered before this herald of the new age, the endless snows that were once so confident in there dominion now burnt for their hubris; And from the screaming inferno crawled forth the child of a god's mad design, small and insignificant in every way if it were not for the manner of their entrance. The child would wander through those seemingly endless woods, they would find shelter in the hollowed out heart of an ancient war-thing, and when their stomach could hold out no longer the child did come to that old wooden monastery in supplication.
It was there that the man known as Amos Vrake was truly born. The monk's were quiet and cold yet gentle in their own subtle ways, some would give him extra soup from off their plate, some would guide him around the reliquary and showed him that which they were charged to remember, some would read him the stories that dated back perhaps thousands of years and told of the days when the world was still young and mankind still remembered home beyond the silver ships. Yet the monasteries could only host a wanderer for so long and many of their number were beginning to grow wary of the child that grew so quickly and grasped the intricacies of script and the liturgical tongue so quickly.
He did not go without gifts; they bestowed him robes, books, a pen and paper. Then Amos Vrake went on his way and the monastery forever faded from the passages of history.
It was in the city of Ismarsus that Vrake would find his second home. His ability to write and connections to the nearby monastery would find himself in the employ of the ruling warden of the city. Hain at this time was becoming louder, it's cities were growing and trade was becoming ubiquitous yet this tale was not played out in Ismarsus. A city of monolithic stone and a sparse population the drifted silently between streets, it had proven stubbornly resistant to change for hundreds of years and it hardly wished to change now. In keeping with his charge, the city's warden proved to be something of a collector and was quick to employ the learned, and by now physically intimidating, Amos as his antiquarian and gave him the duty of plying the world for all that was burdened with weight of history.
Amos took to the task well and in doing so would integrate himself into the web of Hain's scholarly class, his jovial attitude and genuine love for history would earn him much affection in the years to come. His name was spoken of approvingly from the glass plains of Kvatch to the iron spires of Caria, some even whispered that an induction into the synod was on the cards for such a promising young man. Such things were never to pass.
Amos had long coveted the Warden's collection and had come to build his own in private, of course he made extensive use of the Warden's funds to build such a collection. A quick audit was all it took for Amos to be expelled from Ismarsus and sent out into the wilds of Hain. For the next ten years or so Amos seemingly disappeared entirely, his existence during this period only verified by the amount of treatises he would have published via friends and other such proxies. Most of the works related either to the history of Hain or the importance of maintaining the liturgical tongue. He only re-emerge in person at the Council of Caria where it was decided that the liturgical tongue was to be discontinued in favour of the common script. Amos' impassioned speeches fell upon deaf ears and he would depart leaving behind a dire warning for those who had allowed knowledge to slip from the hands of the learned.
It was in the following years that the Golden Word would first emerge. First as a circle of scholars dedicated to preserving traditional philosophy and protesting the new mercantile hierarchies that were emerging, they would soon find themselves, directed by Amos, as agents of disruption; performing assassinations and acts of sabotage. Strangely enough the Golden Word would soon find support among the common folk who grew increasingly suspicious of the cities, a suspicion that would be fanned to hatred by Amos' encouragement. Perhaps Amos did truly care for the liturgical tongue and the common way of life on Hain, perhaps this tale is one of an ideological revolutionary marching to a better future, yet Amos was a man scorned and a man covetous of knowledge.
The Golden Word would prove victorious in their crusade. The scholarly circles would decapitate the elite while the peasant masses overran their fortresses and strongholds. Amos would install himself as the Heavenly Warden of Hain and would pursue a course of deurbanization and agrarian collectivisation, yet most of his time was spent in his vault of artefacts. It was in the twentieth year of his reign that the Emperor, dressed in robes of gold and fire, stepped foot on Hain. He and Amos would meet within the stone halls of Ismarsus where many truths were to be revealed and an offer was to be given. No longer an antiquarian, Amos Vrake was to emerge from Hain as the Censor of Mankind.
- Excerpt from 'Memories of Amos Vrake' Author Unknown
The Legion:
First given life on Terra, the Golden Word were originally known as the Star Drakes. Their long stint without a Primarch left their legion without a single purpose and as such they were shuffled primarily into support roles. It was a shameful existence. Their glory was only supplementary to that of others, their war stories featured themselves only in a supporting role. Among demigods they were faceless and forgotten, left only the scraps of loot and equipment to be had from the conquest. From this melancholy their numbers began to dwindle, recruitment efforts were half-hearted at best and without the Primarch to guide them their efforts were fragmented.
Even when Amos Vrake was reunited with the Imperium the melancholy did not abate, so much time had been lost, what glory was there left to seek? Amos sought out the aid of Callix Volens, the old legion master before the Primarch's reunion. Together they formulated a strategy to bring about the Legion's revival; Callix would begin a review of all previous campaigns the Legion had participated in and then analyse the strategies and tactics of those they had fought alongside in order to implement them into their own, there were certain advantages to fighting on the side-lines. In the meantime Amos was beginning a total reformation of the Legion's image, they were renamed as the Golden Word, vast amounts of advanced equipment was requisitioned for their use (mostly through the exchange of favours yet there have been many who have accused Amos of sending marines out to pilfer depots and arsenals), and finally numerous expeditions were started to acquire ancient Human Relics.
The outcome of these expeditions was always kept highly secret yet their purpose was always achieved regardless, an air of mystique was building around the Golden Word, their vaults of Hain were spoken about in hushed voices and many began to question how many secrets the Forgotten Legion truly had. Of course many also scoffed at the Legion's expensive refurbishment with one noted Admiral of the Imperial Navy commenting that the Golden Word were 'the only legion to have a theme song before they'd fought a campaign'.
One of the most significant achievements that Amos was able to pull off during this period was securing a significant detachment of Solar Guard to accompany the depleted Golden Word.
This collective reform program would culminate in the Massagate Campaign. The Massagate Sublime Union was a relatively advanced xenos star empire that had been attempting to fold Human worlds into their own burgeoning domain, it was to be the charge of the Golden Word to put down the Massagate and reintegrate those Human worlds. At last everything came together beautifully. The Solar Guard beat back the basic infantry of the Massagate with ease while the Golden Word themselves would strike at logistics and command centres utterly devastating the ability of the Massagate to wage war.
It was also in this war that Amos' vices would come to light to the greater Imperium. The Primarch had no care for personal dominion, the slef-concerned prefectures that many of his siblings had carved drew nothing but Amos' greatest ire, nor did he indulge in bloodshed instead using the perfectly calculated amount of force necessary to break an enemy, the Solar Guard acting as the hammer and the Golden Word as the chisel. Amos' singular obsession was a more subtle force; By some force of obsessive compulsion was Amos drawn to preserve and collect, when The Golden Word came to a world it would be the vaults and libraries that would pried from the dying grasp of their unworthy opponents with the most careful precision. Knowledge may only be entrusted to the learned after all.
This vice would seemingly infect the rest of the Legion in due course with each member of the Golden Word seeking to enhance their own personal reserves of knowledge and sacred artefacts. The extent of
Heavy WIP
Amos Vrake - The Golden Word
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- Pronouns
- He/Him
Any word on when these are getting accepted/rejected?
FABRICATOR GENERAL
COIEDIA SOREX PRIMUS-MAGNA
In a most controversial and unexpected move, Magos Sorex has just recently ascended to the highest office of the martian priesthood after unseating its previous occupant in a vote of no-confidence at the Martian Parliament. Highly unpopular due to the abuses of power he believed entitled to his seat, Kelbor-Hal earned many enemies amid the increasingly overtaxed forges in the distant frontiers of the nascent Imperium. His selfish policies revived old rivalries with Jupiter and Saturn, causing no small amount of friction within the terran administration.
Indeed, only those outright favored by the previous Fabricator General owed some semblance of allegiance to a machine of a man who greedily hoarded knowledge for his own personal advantage. Left unattended for long, it is no mystery that a rift leading to a split torn apart the priesthood.
Cunning and brilliant from a young age, Sorex discretely rallied those magi of more radical leaning in their interpretation of the Eternal Quest for Knowledge and its tenets. Key influential figures such as the magos of the Acheron Fosse, Tantalus Hive and even the secretive Mondus Terrawatt leaned in their support to the motion. Blinded by his own hubris, Kelbor-Hal never believed such a motion would come to pass and was shocked to see it succeed in such a short term. Despite vehement protests, he was last seen on his way to present an official repeal before the Emperor and the High Lords council. He has not been seen since.
Like many born inside the secretive and fragmentary martian priesthood, Sorex past is mostly unknown. Riddle with secrets, half-truths and hearsay, precious few things can be gleaned from her early years of life. Decanted with pristine success inside Ascraeus Mons five hundred years ago, she was known to be one of the most valued adept-supplicants of Archmagos Cawl and has been registered to be summoned by the Emperor by name on at least one occasion after the Unification War of Luna concluded. Among her achievements can be noted marvels such as the Vitae-pattern Life Support system and horrors like the Lehamit-pattern Virus Bomb variant.
Her multi disciplinarian studies and ambitious approach to all knowledge has inclined her to be open-minded in matters of import to other magi. However, while she is open to the concept of a more free circulation of knowledge among her peers and the flourishing of combined projects, she remains adamant on martian dominance over all Mankind's technology. Her ruthless and uncompromising approach reveals a mechanical mind worthy of the Omnissiah's blessings and heralds a new era of conflict for the martian priesthood.
Primarch Stellan, and the Void Singers
Always Watching
Definitely NOT an InventCo shill
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Stellan Vyze, Primarch of the Void Singers Legion
"We sing a song of death to the stars. And are grateful for our captive audience."
Stellan Vyze, Grand President of Luster, Boss of the Vyze Syndicate, and now Primarch of the Void Singers. Well-liked within the annals of Imperium command, both for the superficially shining jewel of a planet he united Luster into, and the unique charms he possesses. Viewed as precisely what the rough and tumble Void Singers needed to become a proper Legion, he has labored tirelessly to remake them from a gang of cut-throats and thieves into a no-less merciless gang of professional soldiery. Though with plenty of vice still hidden underneath. Indeed, deception is the main game Stellan knows how to play. Hiding his Legion's criminal nature underneath respectability. Hiding his own flaws underneath a gleaming visage of affability. There is no deception, no lie Stellan will not spin to make things appear greater than they are.
Still, despite this, Stellan remains... Strangely genuine. While he seeks to charm his siblings and those around him whenever possible, he does so to build camaraderie. Not out of a desire to trick them into thinking he's someone he's not. For Stellan, the truth is fundamentally malleable. He wants friendship, and will adapt himself to gain that friendship, empathizing with the plights of those around him. As well as offering insight into changes of appearance or tactics with aesthetics in mind. For Stellan, maintaining one's image is of critical importance, and so offering this aid is (in his own eyes) him being genuinely helpful.
Though while Stellan can change himself however many times as he wants to suit the occasion, there are core truths to himself he can never avoid. Stellan will priortize and hold onto treasures that he views as necessary to increase his legion's prowess, even if it means others may go without. Stellan also holds within him a craving to boost his own image and the image of his legion in the eyes of all. From the average citizen of the Imperium to especially the Emperor himself. He chases glory and fame for his legion whenever possible, even if it might step on the toes of his comrades. This too however, comes from a core value he formed when the Void Singers and Emperor descended onto Luster. Stellan looks to the Emperor as the ultimate challenge in gaining approval, and someone who clearly shares Stellan's love of the aesthetic and style over immediate practacality. As for his legion, Stellan is closely linked to them. Thanks to a combination of the genetic bond between Primarch and progeny, and his natural joy at seeing them adapt and spread culture and music. Stellan greatly enjoys seeing how far they've come from their original identity. There was too much of the Skaven within them when Stellan and his children first met. Their change helps Stellan cope, and remain confident that he can yet defeat the Skaven.
Stellan loathes the Skaven with every ounce of his being. No mask can ever hide how he detests that race, though Stellan has not yet shared his ideas regarding their wretched kind with anyone openly yet. Chaotic, squabbling wretches with no appreciation for aesthetic or culture. Their assault on Luster moments after his victory and his near-defeat at their hands has stained Stellan's soul. He is possessed of the ironclad conviction that the Skaven are the greatest archenemy to mankind. Yes, yes, rival human empires, Xenos scum, Kromer, all threats to the Imperium. But the SKAVEN are the ones that should be truly prepared for. When Stellan falls asleep, he occasionally has nightmares about an all-consuming Vermintide. Constant vigilance against their kind must be maintained in Stellan's eyes, and their total extermination must be striven for. Their stain cannot be tolerated to exist, even as food for the most desperate underhiver. On his ships, Skaven rations are banned, their meat, their fur, their bones, all denied from touching his fleet. When conquering hive worlds, Void Singers will make at least a token effort to clear out as much Skaven as possible from the sewers.
When bringing a world in compliance, Stellan will offer an attempt at surrender and negotiation first, employing his unique sympathies to the rulers of the planet. Though should that fail, a mix of assault and technological subversion is used to bring the brunt of his forces down upon a populace. When all's said and done, Stellan is known for making 'examples' of the leaders of worlds who might mar the Void Singers' image through stubborn resistance. Keeping the specifics of what he does to the previous leadership of a planet a secret from the rest of the wider Imperium, the fates of these misbegotten wretches are often used as a selling point come the next round of negotiation with a stubborn world.
Rayzen Noct, Underboss of the 5th Legato
Rayzen stands as perhaps the archetypal exemplar of those Void Singers who originate from Luster. Suave, confident, fiercely intelligent, yet with an undeniably shady past coloring his present actions. Relatively fresh-faced within the Legion compared to the more veteran Underbosses, Rayzen has a lot to prove, but an eagerness to do so, commanding the fleets of the 5th Legato with superlative skill. Mirroring his primarch in many ways, Rayzen is willing to stoop to any low and play any part required to advance his own reputation and gain glory for the Void Singers.
Skrap, Underboss of the 6th Legato
Unlike many of his contemporaries, Skrap is a refreshingly honest and blunt Void Singer. It's just unfortunate that bluntness manifest more as abrasion than anything else. Radiating a contempt for anything that tries to hide or put up facades made him extremely unpopular within the Legion prior to their unity with their Primarch, and even post-unity, he still isn't all that popular, despite his status as an Underboss. Back in the days of the Pack Rats, Skrap was consistently humiliated by remaining at a low rank despite his incredibly obvious skill. A skill honed from multiple failed assassination attempts and "duels" of "honor" (shank-offs) from his fellow Pack Rats. The closest he's gotten to death however, has never been at the hands of his "brothers". Instead, Skrap was nearly done in by a fearsome ork warboss, one with a penchant for stealing the hands of those he killed in one on one duels.
Warboss Andsnatcha's claiming of Skrap's left hand during their battle was ultimately premature. As despite the ork running Skrap through and lopping off his hand, the ornery space marine had served his role well. While Skrap had been keeping Andsnatcha distracted, the members of the 1st Legion had managed to scour his whole damnable clan and seize control of the fortress that Andsnatcha had erected. Andsnatcha was forced to retreat, thinking he had at the very least krumped his enemy and claimed a new hand. Skrap was begrudgingly kept alive by the First Legion apothecary who found him, forced to acknowledge that he'd at least done his job properly. And once Stellan joined with his legion and began reforming it, Skrap's numerous deeds were recognized, placing him in command of the 6th Legato.
Tiny Chains, Capo of the 1st Legato's Alto Company
Tiny Chains had always been an enterprising individual from a young age. A real go-getter. Not every 9 year old Terran dedicates themselves to
trapping those a few years younger than them and selling them into slavery after all. But sadly, no hideously evil child gets to live the easy life within the Imperium. With the advent of the Emperor's order over Terra, soon things like child-sponsored child slavery just wasn't acceptable. And Tiny Chains was dragged off to go and rot in the Hole. A brief stint there gave Tiny Chains a fierce hunger for freedom, so when she was shipped off to become a Space Marine, there was little objection on her part.
Becoming a scout and continuing to roam and advance through the Pack Rats hierarchy earned her little friends, but Tiny Chains was used to that. In fact, her time on solo missions, hiding in the vents and crawlspaces of enemy structures before leaping out to commandeer and decapitate enemy commanders reminded her of her days on Terra. Little had changed! Granted, she had suffered multiple debilitating injuries in the course of her career, which placed her right on the cusp of becoming a dreadnought. But if that meant she could keep avoiding promotion and could stick to herself, then it was worth it. Of course, with her success and long veterancy in this field, when the time came to reorganize the Pack Rats into a more unified outfit, this meant promotions for those who had been overlooked, deliberately or otherwise.
Now Tiny Chains is a Capo within one of the most prestigious of the Legatos. And she couldn't be more miserable. Actively distrusted and disliked by those who thought of her a sneaking coward, Tiny Chains copes with this by still being the best at what she does within the Void Singers, leading infiltration and scouting operations for the 1st Legato's Alto Company from the front.
"We sing a song of death to the stars. And are grateful for our captive audience."
The 1st Legion of his Adeptus Astartes, the Void Singers began life as a Legion built from the dank dungeons of a recalcitrant populace. Merica had become a place of towering spire-cities waging proxy wars through gene-slaves ripped from the lowest levels of the spires. Stalking radioactive wastelands to scavenge and clash with fellow slave armies did not prepare for the might of the Emperor, and the various spires capitulated quickly enough. Though this initial surrender failed to truly take. Lurking within the nascent Imperium, the Merican nobles who had once commanded the spires sought to subvert the Emperor's authority.
Of course, their politicking did little but earn them ire. Eventually, having enough of their petty subversions, the Emperor acted swiftly and decisively. All Merican spires were levelled, save for one, which was sunk into the depths of Terra, to suffer in the dark. This newly underground spire would be converted into a central prison complex, meant to house the captured nobles and their myriad sycophants. As well as any that the burgeoning Imperium sought to reprimand rather than execute.
Formally known as the Holistic Imperial Detention Center, it would be the first syllable within that title that would define this prison. The 'Hole' proving a place where a culture of ruthlessness and brutality would emerge as the Imperium dumped it's criminal element there while it expanded ever outwards. The nobles whose punishment necessitated The Hole's creation went from elite houses to mob families, adapting unsurprisingly quickly. The death and harsh climate inside this prison would produce children of prisoners who belonged to one gang or another just to survive. Honing their edges through gang warfare, futile escape attempts, and an obsessive fascination with a surface they would never see..
It was from this stock the 1st Legion was drawn from, murderers and scoundrels at young ages, the only escape from a life of confinement being to sell themselves whole to the Imperium. These astartes were born without understanding of the Emperor's greater vision. Only their base avarice, knack for infiltration, and drive to leave Terra and it's stinking 'Hole' behind.
Taking to the stars with aplomb, the 1st would be one of the Legions to cut their teeth on the terrors lurking within Terra's orbit, seizing all manner of satellites that had come to clutter Terra's skies. Every one of which held unknown enemies and threats. Moving from each to each, it was apparent the talent the First Legion would come to be known for. Subverting ancient technology against it's once masters, and using that edge to fill the hearts of their enemies with fear, all the while moving in a relentless push outwards.
Terra's unnatural satellites would be secured totally by the First Legion. However, this is when the first of many notable incidents would emerge within the 1st Legion's checkered past. An unrecorded encounter would result in one of the satellites descending to explode uselessly against the barren wastes of Terra. The death toll of those still aboard the satellite was... Notable. As for the cause, well.. The First Legion's penchant for criminal activities, continued even while becoming space marines, meant that same culture of subversion and brutality that served them against their enemies was also being aimed inwards. Their tendency towards self-sabotage and twisted cunning earned them unflattering comparisons to ancient Terran vermin.
Emerging out into the orbital fight for control of the Sol System, the First's naval talents would come into great use, but their penchant for seizing and reusing vessels against their enemies would only continue their stigma as thieves. Enterprising thieves, perhaps. But still thieves. Between their habit of collecting enemy vessels, and their use of fear tactics and ambush, along with their rather treacherous nature, the 1st would come to be known informally as the Pack Rats. An insulting moniker comparing them to the backstabbing and cowardly Skaven.
The Pack Rats continued in this fashion as the crusade move further outward, gutting anyone who was bold enough to call them this demeaning title to their face. And if they couldn't do so outright, then often arranging an 'accident' in the midst of combat would see them freed of such an annoyance. This slew of borderline treasonous behavior and pettiness earned them reproach more than once.
In fact, their numbers would go on to be formally limited by decree of the Emperor after the events of Vindactum 8, a battle which saw the Pack Rats lose their entire Titan contingent due to a five way struggle for power within the Legion. This would see the Mechanicum forswear sending any more to the Pack Rats. Many saw this and the Emperor's own censure as means of slow death to the Pack Rats, by letting their own nature consume them all. This course might have even succeeded. Provided that their Primarch had not been located only a single Terran year after said restriction.
Of course, their politicking did little but earn them ire. Eventually, having enough of their petty subversions, the Emperor acted swiftly and decisively. All Merican spires were levelled, save for one, which was sunk into the depths of Terra, to suffer in the dark. This newly underground spire would be converted into a central prison complex, meant to house the captured nobles and their myriad sycophants. As well as any that the burgeoning Imperium sought to reprimand rather than execute.
Formally known as the Holistic Imperial Detention Center, it would be the first syllable within that title that would define this prison. The 'Hole' proving a place where a culture of ruthlessness and brutality would emerge as the Imperium dumped it's criminal element there while it expanded ever outwards. The nobles whose punishment necessitated The Hole's creation went from elite houses to mob families, adapting unsurprisingly quickly. The death and harsh climate inside this prison would produce children of prisoners who belonged to one gang or another just to survive. Honing their edges through gang warfare, futile escape attempts, and an obsessive fascination with a surface they would never see..
It was from this stock the 1st Legion was drawn from, murderers and scoundrels at young ages, the only escape from a life of confinement being to sell themselves whole to the Imperium. These astartes were born without understanding of the Emperor's greater vision. Only their base avarice, knack for infiltration, and drive to leave Terra and it's stinking 'Hole' behind.
Taking to the stars with aplomb, the 1st would be one of the Legions to cut their teeth on the terrors lurking within Terra's orbit, seizing all manner of satellites that had come to clutter Terra's skies. Every one of which held unknown enemies and threats. Moving from each to each, it was apparent the talent the First Legion would come to be known for. Subverting ancient technology against it's once masters, and using that edge to fill the hearts of their enemies with fear, all the while moving in a relentless push outwards.
Terra's unnatural satellites would be secured totally by the First Legion. However, this is when the first of many notable incidents would emerge within the 1st Legion's checkered past. An unrecorded encounter would result in one of the satellites descending to explode uselessly against the barren wastes of Terra. The death toll of those still aboard the satellite was... Notable. As for the cause, well.. The First Legion's penchant for criminal activities, continued even while becoming space marines, meant that same culture of subversion and brutality that served them against their enemies was also being aimed inwards. Their tendency towards self-sabotage and twisted cunning earned them unflattering comparisons to ancient Terran vermin.Emerging out into the orbital fight for control of the Sol System, the First's naval talents would come into great use, but their penchant for seizing and reusing vessels against their enemies would only continue their stigma as thieves. Enterprising thieves, perhaps. But still thieves. Between their habit of collecting enemy vessels, and their use of fear tactics and ambush, along with their rather treacherous nature, the 1st would come to be known informally as the Pack Rats. An insulting moniker comparing them to the backstabbing and cowardly Skaven.
The Pack Rats continued in this fashion as the crusade move further outward, gutting anyone who was bold enough to call them this demeaning title to their face. And if they couldn't do so outright, then often arranging an 'accident' in the midst of combat would see them freed of such an annoyance. This slew of borderline treasonous behavior and pettiness earned them reproach more than once.
In fact, their numbers would go on to be formally limited by decree of the Emperor after the events of Vindactum 8, a battle which saw the Pack Rats lose their entire Titan contingent due to a five way struggle for power within the Legion. This would see the Mechanicum forswear sending any more to the Pack Rats. Many saw this and the Emperor's own censure as means of slow death to the Pack Rats, by letting their own nature consume them all. This course might have even succeeded. Provided that their Primarch had not been located only a single Terran year after said restriction.
The world of Luster was a Hive World dominated by an odd marriage between cartels and a democracy. The two remnants of a more civilized time was the petty politicians whose once honest democracies had been eaten out by rampant corruption, and the myriad ships that dominated the skies of Luster. Still clinging to a tradition of democratic rule, Luster would quite literally elevate elected officials into positions of power for a limited time aboard what had once been humble cargo ships, but falls into opulence had remade into flying mansions. Once there, these officials maintained public personas of benevolence while indulging hidden lives of depravity that the numerous crime families on Luster were all too happy to provide, floating along in their own smaller, leaner attack fleets. The greatest of these duplicitous bureaucrats were those who could cheat their rivals while straddling the balance between charity and sin. All the while, these politicians traded service and favors to the crime syndicates that actually ran Luster. Climbing Luster's political stratum often meant literally ascending to it's highest reaches and peaks aboard gilded ships.
It was into this gleaming world of airbound treachery the Primarch's capsule descended like a shining comet. Found by the cronies of a petty crimelord responsible for retrofitting stolen ships, the babe inside captured their immediate adoration. Handing it over to their boss, the ambitious and cold hearted Krylan Vyze, Stellan would become a child of the Vyze gang. Far from spoiling her adoptive son, Krylan instead initially treated Stellan as little more than an especially large pawn, making him work petty jobs with the rest of her scum. As a child, Stellan would absorb the criminal education his new family had to offer, learning the ins and outs of ship repair and disassembly. But his eyes would consistently wander ever upwards, always looking up towards the clouds, the gleaming spires that jutted into them, and the flying palaces that shined further above. He seemed to hold an instinctual craving for that shine.
Stellan's wandering eyes would often earn him harsh reprimand from his mother, who wanted this odd space child sober and rational for the criminal enterprise ahead of them. These reprimands would be followed by beatings that were more psychologically damaging than physically scarring. This tense relationship would not become apparent to anyone looking in from the outside. On the exterior, both mother and son acted as if little was wrong. Just a slight disagreement between subordinate and superior. Perceived weakness could not be afforded within a gang, else the underworld of Luster would rip them apart and take what little they had. Stellan learned this lesson well, along with other criminal tutelage. With his aid, the Vyze gang became a more elevated crime family, Stellan growing their coffers at the expense of fatter sharks in Luster's criminal ecosystem. Oftentimes literally stealing their fleets right out from underneath them. This earned Stellan approval from Krylan, who even formally accepted him as her son. Unfortunately, this came right as larger criminals would descend to rip into the Vyze family, upset at their lost profits.
With Krylan dying in a sudden ambush, Stellan would succeed her as head of the Vyze Crime Family, and began to push back against the myriad syndicates arrayed against them. Stellan would use a mix of unconventional warfare to respond to their strategies, mastering the stolen fleets he'd assembled and conducting them with brilliance and poise. And when faced with obstacles he couldn't take down with martial prowess, Stellan would use his raw charisma to reach out to the rivals of his enemies. Together, the two approaches would push back against his myriad foils. All the while growing the different gangs and ships under his command. In the process, this served to further unite the criminal element of Luster under a single banner. However, Stellan also sought to make his rule 'legitimate' as well. Seeing the praise and acclaim the democratic candidates of Luster could gather in their campaigns, Stellan would announce his candidacy as well, even amidst a rapidly escalating gang war.
Straddling the line of criminal and public official, Stellan would build up a public reputation with the hive world as a charitable and fair harbinger of unity. A not entirely undeserved one, either. The corruption and ruthlessness within the Vyze Syndicate was still as present there as it was in any criminal outfit, but it was all... Remarkably efficient. Oddly noble, even. Stellan instituted codes of conduct for his gangsters to hold themselves to. Creating a strange sort of honor among thieves. No longer could the Vyze Syndicate or it's allies simply target hapless bystanders, drop wrecked ships atop the heads of the poor, or knife anyone who looked at them wrong. To be a part of Stellan's criminal empire meant to be distinguished, refined, and careful. To operate alongside 'civilian' interests and present an approachable side.
This was mostly done to curtail the worst excesses of gang predation, and afford Stellan some deniability as a public servant. But it also worked to stabilize the shifting and treacherous politics of Luster. Gang warfare could be restrained and curtailed from destroying profitable assets, with the ships that existed since Luster's prime having become vanishingly small. And anyone who broke these new codes would become vilified, denied the treaties and restraint other gangs might show to those who played by these rules. It froze out Stellan's enemies and anyone who might seek to disrupt his burgeoning status quo. With the last of the Vyze Syndicate's enemies being eliminated, and Stellan's political rivals becoming upstaged, Luster was unified underneath Stellan Vyze, their shining criminal president.
And then those fucking RATS showed up.
It was into this gleaming world of airbound treachery the Primarch's capsule descended like a shining comet. Found by the cronies of a petty crimelord responsible for retrofitting stolen ships, the babe inside captured their immediate adoration. Handing it over to their boss, the ambitious and cold hearted Krylan Vyze, Stellan would become a child of the Vyze gang. Far from spoiling her adoptive son, Krylan instead initially treated Stellan as little more than an especially large pawn, making him work petty jobs with the rest of her scum. As a child, Stellan would absorb the criminal education his new family had to offer, learning the ins and outs of ship repair and disassembly. But his eyes would consistently wander ever upwards, always looking up towards the clouds, the gleaming spires that jutted into them, and the flying palaces that shined further above. He seemed to hold an instinctual craving for that shine.
Stellan's wandering eyes would often earn him harsh reprimand from his mother, who wanted this odd space child sober and rational for the criminal enterprise ahead of them. These reprimands would be followed by beatings that were more psychologically damaging than physically scarring. This tense relationship would not become apparent to anyone looking in from the outside. On the exterior, both mother and son acted as if little was wrong. Just a slight disagreement between subordinate and superior. Perceived weakness could not be afforded within a gang, else the underworld of Luster would rip them apart and take what little they had. Stellan learned this lesson well, along with other criminal tutelage. With his aid, the Vyze gang became a more elevated crime family, Stellan growing their coffers at the expense of fatter sharks in Luster's criminal ecosystem. Oftentimes literally stealing their fleets right out from underneath them. This earned Stellan approval from Krylan, who even formally accepted him as her son. Unfortunately, this came right as larger criminals would descend to rip into the Vyze family, upset at their lost profits.
With Krylan dying in a sudden ambush, Stellan would succeed her as head of the Vyze Crime Family, and began to push back against the myriad syndicates arrayed against them. Stellan would use a mix of unconventional warfare to respond to their strategies, mastering the stolen fleets he'd assembled and conducting them with brilliance and poise. And when faced with obstacles he couldn't take down with martial prowess, Stellan would use his raw charisma to reach out to the rivals of his enemies. Together, the two approaches would push back against his myriad foils. All the while growing the different gangs and ships under his command. In the process, this served to further unite the criminal element of Luster under a single banner. However, Stellan also sought to make his rule 'legitimate' as well. Seeing the praise and acclaim the democratic candidates of Luster could gather in their campaigns, Stellan would announce his candidacy as well, even amidst a rapidly escalating gang war.
Straddling the line of criminal and public official, Stellan would build up a public reputation with the hive world as a charitable and fair harbinger of unity. A not entirely undeserved one, either. The corruption and ruthlessness within the Vyze Syndicate was still as present there as it was in any criminal outfit, but it was all... Remarkably efficient. Oddly noble, even. Stellan instituted codes of conduct for his gangsters to hold themselves to. Creating a strange sort of honor among thieves. No longer could the Vyze Syndicate or it's allies simply target hapless bystanders, drop wrecked ships atop the heads of the poor, or knife anyone who looked at them wrong. To be a part of Stellan's criminal empire meant to be distinguished, refined, and careful. To operate alongside 'civilian' interests and present an approachable side.
This was mostly done to curtail the worst excesses of gang predation, and afford Stellan some deniability as a public servant. But it also worked to stabilize the shifting and treacherous politics of Luster. Gang warfare could be restrained and curtailed from destroying profitable assets, with the ships that existed since Luster's prime having become vanishingly small. And anyone who broke these new codes would become vilified, denied the treaties and restraint other gangs might show to those who played by these rules. It froze out Stellan's enemies and anyone who might seek to disrupt his burgeoning status quo. With the last of the Vyze Syndicate's enemies being eliminated, and Stellan's political rivals becoming upstaged, Luster was unified underneath Stellan Vyze, their shining criminal president.
And then those fucking RATS showed up.
Stellan stood at the pinnacle of Luster, with every ship that flew through it's sky doing so at his command. He saw to it that the crime and hypocrisy that infected Luster had become one that he could control and direct to be less vicious. The people flourished under his criminal and public grip. It was all... Good. Even while Stellan grew to indulge himself in the bounties that flowed into his coffers, he never let that tarnish his public image. Stellan both enjoyed and embodied the ideal of the superficial. That what mattered was less what something was, and more what it looked like. And Luster grew to accommodate that vision under his patronage, outwardly resembling a beacon of progress and sophistication, even as underneath the surface, double-dealing and corruption lay just underneath it's shining exterior. It was an efficient and cleaner sort of crime, but it was all still very much there, all with Stellan's blessing and tacit support.
However, after a short time of relative peace, Luster's new gilded age would come to an abrupt halt. The Damned Rats, already present within Luster's underhive, suddenly surged in force and populace, gnawing their way upwards, towards the flying manors and upper spires of Luster. Stellan had previously only viewed the Skaven as a possible food source, and as he grew in acclaim and political clout, they became a nuisance to be pruned. For Stellan, who so prized the beautiful and efficient, having to contend with the Skaven gave him a hatred he had never known before. They were filthy, chattering, back-stabbing vermin who cared nothing for aesthetic purpose. Their sole reason for existing seemed to only spread misery, hate and rot wherever they saw fit to land their disgusting paws. There was nothing about them the normally generous Primarch could respect, and he became solely dedicated to their eradication.
And yet, for all his talents, the Primarch found rooting out the Skaven to be a difficult task indeed. Pushed nearly to the brink, Stellan fought back with an insane zeal that suddenly emerged when he was staring down the barrel of annihilation. It took years of bitter fighting, elaborate feints, the destruction of several ships dating back to Luster's inception, and the systematic purging of under-under-underhives. Which were the best places to do the darkest and dirtiest deeds in Luster! With all that sacrifice, Stellan was able to completely destroy the Skaven presence on Luster. Freed from their insanity, Stellan breathed a sigh of relief as he finally was able to rest and rebuild, creating massive pyres for the Skaven corpses.
Only for the Emperor to make himself known. The Emperor offered the aid of the Imperium to help rebuild Luster after the threat of the Skaven. This offer, coupled with Stellan becoming swept up in the raw majesty of the Emperor, ensure he agreed to this and more, becoming a Primarch in full. For his first task, the Emperor would inform him that his Legion needed reformation, before then promptly leaving, only staying to ensure the dispersal of typical Imperial Administratum assets to properly incorporate and repair Luster.
Seeing the bountiful potential within his Legion, only covered by an admittedly quite thick (AND HIDEOUSLY FAMILIAR) layer of distrust and grime, Stellan went to work, reforming the Pack Rats into something more befitting a Legion. He focused on elevating traits that he found beneficial, and sanding away rougher edges. What was left in the aftermath were the Void Singers. An announcement they released to the galaxy at wide upon the capture and refitting of a Space Hulk as their flagship, granting it the name of The Maestro. A conductor of a symphony of slaughter.
However, after a short time of relative peace, Luster's new gilded age would come to an abrupt halt. The Damned Rats, already present within Luster's underhive, suddenly surged in force and populace, gnawing their way upwards, towards the flying manors and upper spires of Luster. Stellan had previously only viewed the Skaven as a possible food source, and as he grew in acclaim and political clout, they became a nuisance to be pruned. For Stellan, who so prized the beautiful and efficient, having to contend with the Skaven gave him a hatred he had never known before. They were filthy, chattering, back-stabbing vermin who cared nothing for aesthetic purpose. Their sole reason for existing seemed to only spread misery, hate and rot wherever they saw fit to land their disgusting paws. There was nothing about them the normally generous Primarch could respect, and he became solely dedicated to their eradication.
And yet, for all his talents, the Primarch found rooting out the Skaven to be a difficult task indeed. Pushed nearly to the brink, Stellan fought back with an insane zeal that suddenly emerged when he was staring down the barrel of annihilation. It took years of bitter fighting, elaborate feints, the destruction of several ships dating back to Luster's inception, and the systematic purging of under-under-underhives. Which were the best places to do the darkest and dirtiest deeds in Luster! With all that sacrifice, Stellan was able to completely destroy the Skaven presence on Luster. Freed from their insanity, Stellan breathed a sigh of relief as he finally was able to rest and rebuild, creating massive pyres for the Skaven corpses.
Only for the Emperor to make himself known. The Emperor offered the aid of the Imperium to help rebuild Luster after the threat of the Skaven. This offer, coupled with Stellan becoming swept up in the raw majesty of the Emperor, ensure he agreed to this and more, becoming a Primarch in full. For his first task, the Emperor would inform him that his Legion needed reformation, before then promptly leaving, only staying to ensure the dispersal of typical Imperial Administratum assets to properly incorporate and repair Luster.
Seeing the bountiful potential within his Legion, only covered by an admittedly quite thick (AND HIDEOUSLY FAMILIAR) layer of distrust and grime, Stellan went to work, reforming the Pack Rats into something more befitting a Legion. He focused on elevating traits that he found beneficial, and sanding away rougher edges. What was left in the aftermath were the Void Singers. An announcement they released to the galaxy at wide upon the capture and refitting of a Space Hulk as their flagship, granting it the name of The Maestro. A conductor of a symphony of slaughter.
The Maestro was a hard won trophy, only captured 2 years after Stellan was first discovered and reunited with his family. In that time, he had brought up to speed on the state of the wider galaxy and the war that would be needed to win it, as well as the army he'd be doing it with. Knowing that his Legion needed improvement, Stellan went to work on refining them. Having a first hand experience with reigning in overly edgy crooks, Stellan began his work to improve the 'Pack Rats' in earnest. Stellan would unweave the tangled knot of gangs that made up the Pack Rats structure, coming to an understanding with their nuanced and prickly crime culture. Of special note was their tendency for betrayal, which would lay the foundations for his scheme.
Stellan would set up notably lethal training drills, where there would be plenty of opportunity to bump off a rival. Letting the gangs collide and collapse on one another, Stellan would intervene just when things were at their most chaotic and desperate. Providing a bastion of sanctuary and dissolving the gangs in their entirety by providing them a new criminal outfit to hang their hat on. Stellan knew that slowly, time would wear away the grudges and bitterness festering in the hearts of his marines. But it would be especially auspicious if he could have a significant milestone to show that the era of the Pack Rats was past.
Enter the Spiraling Maw, a Space Hulk known for it's odd gravitational quirk that seemed to pull space debris around it in a spiral vortex before slingshotting them off into the reaches of space. Floating around aimlessly at first, it had more recently been pulled towards Imperial shipyards and docks, siphoning ships into it's bulk and resisting attempts to attack it through it's odd gravity. In actuality, it was piloted by a band of Xenos pirates. Their name roughly translated into the Gothic alphabet as the EGNOJ. The EGNOJ had managed to retrofit the Spiraling Maw, weaponizing and even controlling it's odd gravity field. They had found human technology the easiest to integrate into their own, so had become laser focused on acquiring as much of it as possible, intending to work their way up to larger ships.
Eventually, the presence of the EGNOJ was detected aboard the space hulk. Which prompted a response from the Imperium, with Stellan and his 'Pack Rats' the first to leap to the call. Recognizing the unique challenge the Spiraling Maw posed and the degree to which his nascent 'Void Singers' could solve it, Stellan swore to wipe out the EGNOJ and reclaim all the Imperial technology that had been stolen. The battle for the Spiraling Maw was intense, with it's gravitic field providing an unnaturally tough defense and offense against conventional naval tactics. But Stellan's canny knack for raiding and deception won the day, and allowed him to position Dreadclaws that nimbly ducked and swerved past the projectiles and defensive grid the Spiraling Maw erected.
Once aboard, the 'Pack Rats' got to work doing what they did best, but rather than focusing on securing the biggest bits of loot or the most kills for themselves, they moved with disciplined and desicive rigor. The fact the EGNOJ focused on human technology proved to be their undoing, as tech marines could easily crack through and subvert the defensives the aliens put up. Eventually, the EGNOJ were slaughtered wholesale, and the Spiraling Maw was claimed. Upon their triumphant victory, Stellan would launch an announcement to the entire Imperium. One accompanied by traditional Lusterian tunes, which served to highly the bold pronouncement that the 1st Legion would henceforth be known forever as the Void Singers, whose melody would fill the silence between stars.
With the Spiraling Maw captured, the ships that had been haphazardly grabbed by the EGNOJ were returned to their ports of origin. A generous act by Stellan that won him much admiration. However, there were sadly still ships that were too deeply integrated into the Spiraling Maw to be removed. Or at least that was what Stellan told those whose ships he didn't return. However, determined to not let their sacrifice be in vain, Stellan announced that the Spiraling Maw would become a boon for humanity instead of working against it.
To that end, it would be retrofitted, modified. Brought up to the same standards as any Imperial vessel, and in some cases, surpass it. The Maestro holds a myriad of debris within it, but 8 ships can be identified within it's massive bulk, and of those 8, 3 are equivalent to the Gloriana class, and have been redesigned to appear as such. The other 5 are:
Tantalus, Satiated - A pleasure ship intended for use by a high-ranking member of the Elites. It has largely maintained it's original purpose while in the custody of the Void Singers.
The Crushing Victory - A Nemesis Class Fleet Carrier, notable for having one of the largest carrying capacities of it's class.
Soldier's Rest - An Imperial hospital vessel, one of those abducted during the EGNOJ's raids. Upgraded to allow it to tend to astartes physiology.
The Omnisiah's Grace: Model XG5 - A Goliath Class Forge Tender with ample forges and repair stations.
Name Unknown - An Age of Strife era ship constructed by an as of yet unknown human civilization. At least, it's assumed to be human, because obviously the Void Singers would never deign to rely on Xenos technology. The very center of the Maestro, it's from here that the odd gravitational pull that surrounds the space hulk can be commanded. It can be used offensively to hurl space debris or boost projectiles fired from the Maestro, defensively to create intercepting projectiles, or even for sheer utility, to aid in docking procedures or freeze a ship in place relative to the Maestro. It's with this, the Maestro gains it's name, allowing the Void Singers to conduct their symphony of death.
Stellan would set up notably lethal training drills, where there would be plenty of opportunity to bump off a rival. Letting the gangs collide and collapse on one another, Stellan would intervene just when things were at their most chaotic and desperate. Providing a bastion of sanctuary and dissolving the gangs in their entirety by providing them a new criminal outfit to hang their hat on. Stellan knew that slowly, time would wear away the grudges and bitterness festering in the hearts of his marines. But it would be especially auspicious if he could have a significant milestone to show that the era of the Pack Rats was past.
Enter the Spiraling Maw, a Space Hulk known for it's odd gravitational quirk that seemed to pull space debris around it in a spiral vortex before slingshotting them off into the reaches of space. Floating around aimlessly at first, it had more recently been pulled towards Imperial shipyards and docks, siphoning ships into it's bulk and resisting attempts to attack it through it's odd gravity. In actuality, it was piloted by a band of Xenos pirates. Their name roughly translated into the Gothic alphabet as the EGNOJ. The EGNOJ had managed to retrofit the Spiraling Maw, weaponizing and even controlling it's odd gravity field. They had found human technology the easiest to integrate into their own, so had become laser focused on acquiring as much of it as possible, intending to work their way up to larger ships.
Eventually, the presence of the EGNOJ was detected aboard the space hulk. Which prompted a response from the Imperium, with Stellan and his 'Pack Rats' the first to leap to the call. Recognizing the unique challenge the Spiraling Maw posed and the degree to which his nascent 'Void Singers' could solve it, Stellan swore to wipe out the EGNOJ and reclaim all the Imperial technology that had been stolen. The battle for the Spiraling Maw was intense, with it's gravitic field providing an unnaturally tough defense and offense against conventional naval tactics. But Stellan's canny knack for raiding and deception won the day, and allowed him to position Dreadclaws that nimbly ducked and swerved past the projectiles and defensive grid the Spiraling Maw erected.
Once aboard, the 'Pack Rats' got to work doing what they did best, but rather than focusing on securing the biggest bits of loot or the most kills for themselves, they moved with disciplined and desicive rigor. The fact the EGNOJ focused on human technology proved to be their undoing, as tech marines could easily crack through and subvert the defensives the aliens put up. Eventually, the EGNOJ were slaughtered wholesale, and the Spiraling Maw was claimed. Upon their triumphant victory, Stellan would launch an announcement to the entire Imperium. One accompanied by traditional Lusterian tunes, which served to highly the bold pronouncement that the 1st Legion would henceforth be known forever as the Void Singers, whose melody would fill the silence between stars.
With the Spiraling Maw captured, the ships that had been haphazardly grabbed by the EGNOJ were returned to their ports of origin. A generous act by Stellan that won him much admiration. However, there were sadly still ships that were too deeply integrated into the Spiraling Maw to be removed. Or at least that was what Stellan told those whose ships he didn't return. However, determined to not let their sacrifice be in vain, Stellan announced that the Spiraling Maw would become a boon for humanity instead of working against it.
To that end, it would be retrofitted, modified. Brought up to the same standards as any Imperial vessel, and in some cases, surpass it. The Maestro holds a myriad of debris within it, but 8 ships can be identified within it's massive bulk, and of those 8, 3 are equivalent to the Gloriana class, and have been redesigned to appear as such. The other 5 are:
Tantalus, Satiated - A pleasure ship intended for use by a high-ranking member of the Elites. It has largely maintained it's original purpose while in the custody of the Void Singers.
The Crushing Victory - A Nemesis Class Fleet Carrier, notable for having one of the largest carrying capacities of it's class.
Soldier's Rest - An Imperial hospital vessel, one of those abducted during the EGNOJ's raids. Upgraded to allow it to tend to astartes physiology.
The Omnisiah's Grace: Model XG5 - A Goliath Class Forge Tender with ample forges and repair stations.
Name Unknown - An Age of Strife era ship constructed by an as of yet unknown human civilization. At least, it's assumed to be human, because obviously the Void Singers would never deign to rely on Xenos technology. The very center of the Maestro, it's from here that the odd gravitational pull that surrounds the space hulk can be commanded. It can be used offensively to hurl space debris or boost projectiles fired from the Maestro, defensively to create intercepting projectiles, or even for sheer utility, to aid in docking procedures or freeze a ship in place relative to the Maestro. It's with this, the Maestro gains it's name, allowing the Void Singers to conduct their symphony of death.
Stellan's reforms largely followed the same patterns he employed with the taming of the criminal element on Luster. Erasing base treachery and the blatant disregard for life within the legion while still promoting the ruthlessness and cunning of criminality. He especially began to impress Lusterian cultural and artistic values onto the Void Singers, though mixed with their martial attributes. Lusterian art began to take root amongst the Legion, who found it's mix of sophistication and frenetic styles calming. The music of Luster especially, known for it's blaring rhythms, soothing tones and shifting melodies, became commonplace.
It's from this that the name of the Void Singers rings especially true. A mobile legion known for their void and air warfare, the Void Singers command a vast fleet of both space marine and auxilary forces, using their navy to crush any opposition, but also operating them skillfully. Emerging suddenly from the darkness, they begin with an opening salvo of aetheric warfare, disrupting the communication and automated channels of their enemy with a song of slaughter. From there, they launch breaching pods into the enemy stronghold, tearing their way forward and turning the technology of their enemy further against them. Rather than execute them immediately, the Void Singers will chase their prey out of their defenses, often funneling them into escape craft and shuttle bays so that their targets might be allowed the faintest of hope that they might get away.
Only to be gunned down by the Void Singers' hefty navy once their enemies begin to flee. Under Stellan's reforms, the Void Singers are attempting to heal their damaged reputation as scum, even if illicit activities still happen under their polished obsidian surface. It's for that reason that the wider Militarum and Navy keep fresh faced troops away from the Legion, instead insisting on sending experienced soldiery, used to being kept in line via morale officers. Though official reports of misconduct have always been managed to massaged away, the Void Singers' Capos and officers having been tutored in the suave charisma and politicking of Luster.
Indeed, criminality sticks to the Void Shadows wherever they go. When they're not actively trading illict contraband and racketeering with the auxiliary they're paired with, the Void Shadows will tend to linger behind on worlds made freshly compliant. It's not enough to capture and repurpose the naval vessels of that world, the Void Shadows will also ensure little things go missing that will take decades to notice. Valuables and resources that the world might have submitted in tithes centuries later just... Gone. Into the pockets of the Void Shadows for use in future warfare.
Criminal enterprises on hive worlds conquered by the Void Shadows will often become stronger after the Void Shadows passing. The Legion having tutored their unmodified brethren on how to best survive underneath the incoming heavy boot of the Adeptus Arbites. While this ensures the worlds the Void Shadows leave behind often have well-organized corruption and vice plaguing their hives, the corruption that emerges mirrors the strangely stable and efficient corruption of Luster. Perfectly willing to play ball with the rest of the Imperium, and grateful to the Void Shadows for their tutelage. But certainly not on the up and up. In comparison to your average brutally repressed and already corrupt hive world however, it's... Not as different as the Void Shadows' potential detractors might hope.
The command structure of the Legion has shifted from the rabble gangs of Terra to a more unified outfit. Old grudges being buried and replaced with mafia structures akin to the cartel ranks found on Luster, named after a mix of criminal organization and music terminology. The current 90,000 astartes within the Void Singers are broken up into 10 Legato chapters, composed of 9,000 marines. Each one led by an Underboss, a commander for the Legato as whole. Within the Legato are various specialized companies known by one of four designations, each one led by a Capo.
Soprano Companies are those which hold the most veteran of a Void Singer Legato, among which can be found the Omerta, the elite breaching units of the Void Singers. Known for operating in uncharacteristic silence for the Void Singers, they let their brutal actions on the battlefield speak for them. Breaching into the places where the enemy thinks themselves safest with their Meltaguns, the Omerta swiftly descend to reduce any enemy to atomized slag.
Alto Companies are those which hold highly technical scout squads, responsible for both laying the groundwork of coming assaults, and for launching cyber attacks on the enemy, so that once the battle does begin, the enemy cannot seek succor in their technology. Responsible for the bulk of a Legato's techmarines, Alto Companies are invaluable upon the field of battle, often tormenting the enemy once battle has begun by ensuring any malfunctions that occur do so in uniquely sadistic ways.
Tenor Companies hold the more esoteric weapons the Void Singers use as well as general assault squads. Librarians and Apothecaries both find themselves operating in Tenor Companies, supporting their battle brothers from the background. Playing no less an important part in the melodic annihilation. For as Stellan himself pointed out upon their formation, without a backing track, a vocal performance falters.
Bass Companies are responsible for holding long-range devastator squads, as well as commanding formidable pieces of heavy artillery. A particularly unique piece amongst them is the Crescendo pattern missile tank, adopted from an ancient Lusterian weapon used to crack open flying fortresses. Using advanced targeting systems and it's distinct pipe organ-like structure, the Crescendo launches missiles that scream through the air, allowing it's operators to let loose a symphony of death upon the foes of the Void Singers.
When companies have to put together more rounded out squads comprising a mix of specialists, they form a temporary Concerto. Created from marines from 4 different Companies coming together, their disparate elements create a squad of varying size headed by a Soloist, a (most often veteran) Marine granted operational command to perform the Concerto's objective as effectively as possible. Once a Concerto has served it's purpose, the Concerto dissolves back into the component Companies that formed them.
The Void Singers operate an exceptional naval strength, using both the ships they've been granted through the Imperium and the ships they capture through military action to bolster their numbers exponentially. While this is the same strategy they once used as mere 'Pack Rats', Stellan's unique spin on the matter has allowed the Imperium to view this as resourcefulness instead of greed and piracy. Especially since such endeavors have produced the elite techmarines known as the Black Hands. Their extensive training and knack allows the Black Hands to quickly turn captured vessels into instruments of destruction. The Black Hands are also ace pilots, interfacing directly with their vessels through bionic enhancements to dominate the skies.
It's from this that the name of the Void Singers rings especially true. A mobile legion known for their void and air warfare, the Void Singers command a vast fleet of both space marine and auxilary forces, using their navy to crush any opposition, but also operating them skillfully. Emerging suddenly from the darkness, they begin with an opening salvo of aetheric warfare, disrupting the communication and automated channels of their enemy with a song of slaughter. From there, they launch breaching pods into the enemy stronghold, tearing their way forward and turning the technology of their enemy further against them. Rather than execute them immediately, the Void Singers will chase their prey out of their defenses, often funneling them into escape craft and shuttle bays so that their targets might be allowed the faintest of hope that they might get away.
Only to be gunned down by the Void Singers' hefty navy once their enemies begin to flee. Under Stellan's reforms, the Void Singers are attempting to heal their damaged reputation as scum, even if illicit activities still happen under their polished obsidian surface. It's for that reason that the wider Militarum and Navy keep fresh faced troops away from the Legion, instead insisting on sending experienced soldiery, used to being kept in line via morale officers. Though official reports of misconduct have always been managed to massaged away, the Void Singers' Capos and officers having been tutored in the suave charisma and politicking of Luster.
Indeed, criminality sticks to the Void Shadows wherever they go. When they're not actively trading illict contraband and racketeering with the auxiliary they're paired with, the Void Shadows will tend to linger behind on worlds made freshly compliant. It's not enough to capture and repurpose the naval vessels of that world, the Void Shadows will also ensure little things go missing that will take decades to notice. Valuables and resources that the world might have submitted in tithes centuries later just... Gone. Into the pockets of the Void Shadows for use in future warfare.
Criminal enterprises on hive worlds conquered by the Void Shadows will often become stronger after the Void Shadows passing. The Legion having tutored their unmodified brethren on how to best survive underneath the incoming heavy boot of the Adeptus Arbites. While this ensures the worlds the Void Shadows leave behind often have well-organized corruption and vice plaguing their hives, the corruption that emerges mirrors the strangely stable and efficient corruption of Luster. Perfectly willing to play ball with the rest of the Imperium, and grateful to the Void Shadows for their tutelage. But certainly not on the up and up. In comparison to your average brutally repressed and already corrupt hive world however, it's... Not as different as the Void Shadows' potential detractors might hope.
The command structure of the Legion has shifted from the rabble gangs of Terra to a more unified outfit. Old grudges being buried and replaced with mafia structures akin to the cartel ranks found on Luster, named after a mix of criminal organization and music terminology. The current 90,000 astartes within the Void Singers are broken up into 10 Legato chapters, composed of 9,000 marines. Each one led by an Underboss, a commander for the Legato as whole. Within the Legato are various specialized companies known by one of four designations, each one led by a Capo.
Soprano Companies are those which hold the most veteran of a Void Singer Legato, among which can be found the Omerta, the elite breaching units of the Void Singers. Known for operating in uncharacteristic silence for the Void Singers, they let their brutal actions on the battlefield speak for them. Breaching into the places where the enemy thinks themselves safest with their Meltaguns, the Omerta swiftly descend to reduce any enemy to atomized slag.Alto Companies are those which hold highly technical scout squads, responsible for both laying the groundwork of coming assaults, and for launching cyber attacks on the enemy, so that once the battle does begin, the enemy cannot seek succor in their technology. Responsible for the bulk of a Legato's techmarines, Alto Companies are invaluable upon the field of battle, often tormenting the enemy once battle has begun by ensuring any malfunctions that occur do so in uniquely sadistic ways.
Tenor Companies hold the more esoteric weapons the Void Singers use as well as general assault squads. Librarians and Apothecaries both find themselves operating in Tenor Companies, supporting their battle brothers from the background. Playing no less an important part in the melodic annihilation. For as Stellan himself pointed out upon their formation, without a backing track, a vocal performance falters.
Bass Companies are responsible for holding long-range devastator squads, as well as commanding formidable pieces of heavy artillery. A particularly unique piece amongst them is the Crescendo pattern missile tank, adopted from an ancient Lusterian weapon used to crack open flying fortresses. Using advanced targeting systems and it's distinct pipe organ-like structure, the Crescendo launches missiles that scream through the air, allowing it's operators to let loose a symphony of death upon the foes of the Void Singers.
When companies have to put together more rounded out squads comprising a mix of specialists, they form a temporary Concerto. Created from marines from 4 different Companies coming together, their disparate elements create a squad of varying size headed by a Soloist, a (most often veteran) Marine granted operational command to perform the Concerto's objective as effectively as possible. Once a Concerto has served it's purpose, the Concerto dissolves back into the component Companies that formed them.The Void Singers operate an exceptional naval strength, using both the ships they've been granted through the Imperium and the ships they capture through military action to bolster their numbers exponentially. While this is the same strategy they once used as mere 'Pack Rats', Stellan's unique spin on the matter has allowed the Imperium to view this as resourcefulness instead of greed and piracy. Especially since such endeavors have produced the elite techmarines known as the Black Hands. Their extensive training and knack allows the Black Hands to quickly turn captured vessels into instruments of destruction. The Black Hands are also ace pilots, interfacing directly with their vessels through bionic enhancements to dominate the skies.
Stellan Vyze, Grand President of Luster, Boss of the Vyze Syndicate, and now Primarch of the Void Singers. Well-liked within the annals of Imperium command, both for the superficially shining jewel of a planet he united Luster into, and the unique charms he possesses. Viewed as precisely what the rough and tumble Void Singers needed to become a proper Legion, he has labored tirelessly to remake them from a gang of cut-throats and thieves into a no-less merciless gang of professional soldiery. Though with plenty of vice still hidden underneath. Indeed, deception is the main game Stellan knows how to play. Hiding his Legion's criminal nature underneath respectability. Hiding his own flaws underneath a gleaming visage of affability. There is no deception, no lie Stellan will not spin to make things appear greater than they are.
Still, despite this, Stellan remains... Strangely genuine. While he seeks to charm his siblings and those around him whenever possible, he does so to build camaraderie. Not out of a desire to trick them into thinking he's someone he's not. For Stellan, the truth is fundamentally malleable. He wants friendship, and will adapt himself to gain that friendship, empathizing with the plights of those around him. As well as offering insight into changes of appearance or tactics with aesthetics in mind. For Stellan, maintaining one's image is of critical importance, and so offering this aid is (in his own eyes) him being genuinely helpful.
Though while Stellan can change himself however many times as he wants to suit the occasion, there are core truths to himself he can never avoid. Stellan will priortize and hold onto treasures that he views as necessary to increase his legion's prowess, even if it means others may go without. Stellan also holds within him a craving to boost his own image and the image of his legion in the eyes of all. From the average citizen of the Imperium to especially the Emperor himself. He chases glory and fame for his legion whenever possible, even if it might step on the toes of his comrades. This too however, comes from a core value he formed when the Void Singers and Emperor descended onto Luster. Stellan looks to the Emperor as the ultimate challenge in gaining approval, and someone who clearly shares Stellan's love of the aesthetic and style over immediate practacality. As for his legion, Stellan is closely linked to them. Thanks to a combination of the genetic bond between Primarch and progeny, and his natural joy at seeing them adapt and spread culture and music. Stellan greatly enjoys seeing how far they've come from their original identity. There was too much of the Skaven within them when Stellan and his children first met. Their change helps Stellan cope, and remain confident that he can yet defeat the Skaven.
Stellan loathes the Skaven with every ounce of his being. No mask can ever hide how he detests that race, though Stellan has not yet shared his ideas regarding their wretched kind with anyone openly yet. Chaotic, squabbling wretches with no appreciation for aesthetic or culture. Their assault on Luster moments after his victory and his near-defeat at their hands has stained Stellan's soul. He is possessed of the ironclad conviction that the Skaven are the greatest archenemy to mankind. Yes, yes, rival human empires, Xenos scum, Kromer, all threats to the Imperium. But the SKAVEN are the ones that should be truly prepared for. When Stellan falls asleep, he occasionally has nightmares about an all-consuming Vermintide. Constant vigilance against their kind must be maintained in Stellan's eyes, and their total extermination must be striven for. Their stain cannot be tolerated to exist, even as food for the most desperate underhiver. On his ships, Skaven rations are banned, their meat, their fur, their bones, all denied from touching his fleet. When conquering hive worlds, Void Singers will make at least a token effort to clear out as much Skaven as possible from the sewers.
When bringing a world in compliance, Stellan will offer an attempt at surrender and negotiation first, employing his unique sympathies to the rulers of the planet. Though should that fail, a mix of assault and technological subversion is used to bring the brunt of his forces down upon a populace. When all's said and done, Stellan is known for making 'examples' of the leaders of worlds who might mar the Void Singers' image through stubborn resistance. Keeping the specifics of what he does to the previous leadership of a planet a secret from the rest of the wider Imperium, the fates of these misbegotten wretches are often used as a selling point come the next round of negotiation with a stubborn world.
Rayzen Noct, Underboss of the 5th Legato
Rayzen stands as perhaps the archetypal exemplar of those Void Singers who originate from Luster. Suave, confident, fiercely intelligent, yet with an undeniably shady past coloring his present actions. Relatively fresh-faced within the Legion compared to the more veteran Underbosses, Rayzen has a lot to prove, but an eagerness to do so, commanding the fleets of the 5th Legato with superlative skill. Mirroring his primarch in many ways, Rayzen is willing to stoop to any low and play any part required to advance his own reputation and gain glory for the Void Singers.
Skrap, Underboss of the 6th LegatoUnlike many of his contemporaries, Skrap is a refreshingly honest and blunt Void Singer. It's just unfortunate that bluntness manifest more as abrasion than anything else. Radiating a contempt for anything that tries to hide or put up facades made him extremely unpopular within the Legion prior to their unity with their Primarch, and even post-unity, he still isn't all that popular, despite his status as an Underboss. Back in the days of the Pack Rats, Skrap was consistently humiliated by remaining at a low rank despite his incredibly obvious skill. A skill honed from multiple failed assassination attempts and "duels" of "honor" (shank-offs) from his fellow Pack Rats. The closest he's gotten to death however, has never been at the hands of his "brothers". Instead, Skrap was nearly done in by a fearsome ork warboss, one with a penchant for stealing the hands of those he killed in one on one duels.
Warboss Andsnatcha's claiming of Skrap's left hand during their battle was ultimately premature. As despite the ork running Skrap through and lopping off his hand, the ornery space marine had served his role well. While Skrap had been keeping Andsnatcha distracted, the members of the 1st Legion had managed to scour his whole damnable clan and seize control of the fortress that Andsnatcha had erected. Andsnatcha was forced to retreat, thinking he had at the very least krumped his enemy and claimed a new hand. Skrap was begrudgingly kept alive by the First Legion apothecary who found him, forced to acknowledge that he'd at least done his job properly. And once Stellan joined with his legion and began reforming it, Skrap's numerous deeds were recognized, placing him in command of the 6th Legato.
Tiny Chains, Capo of the 1st Legato's Alto Company
Tiny Chains had always been an enterprising individual from a young age. A real go-getter. Not every 9 year old Terran dedicates themselves to
trapping those a few years younger than them and selling them into slavery after all. But sadly, no hideously evil child gets to live the easy life within the Imperium. With the advent of the Emperor's order over Terra, soon things like child-sponsored child slavery just wasn't acceptable. And Tiny Chains was dragged off to go and rot in the Hole. A brief stint there gave Tiny Chains a fierce hunger for freedom, so when she was shipped off to become a Space Marine, there was little objection on her part.Becoming a scout and continuing to roam and advance through the Pack Rats hierarchy earned her little friends, but Tiny Chains was used to that. In fact, her time on solo missions, hiding in the vents and crawlspaces of enemy structures before leaping out to commandeer and decapitate enemy commanders reminded her of her days on Terra. Little had changed! Granted, she had suffered multiple debilitating injuries in the course of her career, which placed her right on the cusp of becoming a dreadnought. But if that meant she could keep avoiding promotion and could stick to herself, then it was worth it. Of course, with her success and long veterancy in this field, when the time came to reorganize the Pack Rats into a more unified outfit, this meant promotions for those who had been overlooked, deliberately or otherwise.
Now Tiny Chains is a Capo within one of the most prestigious of the Legatos. And she couldn't be more miserable. Actively distrusted and disliked by those who thought of her a sneaking coward, Tiny Chains copes with this by still being the best at what she does within the Void Singers, leading infiltration and scouting operations for the 1st Legato's Alto Company from the front.
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Puppernickel
Lord of the No-Prize
- Pronouns
- He/Him
Good question! In fact, seeing how many apps there already are - goodness so full already! - I'm going to answer that now with an official comment.
The Deadline for apps will be the 25th, just shy of two weeks from now, at which point I shall close apps. Note once more that joining the Discord is necessary, and anyone with an app that isn't on the Discord - link at the bottom of the initial OOC post - will not be considered. Just, you know, making sure people know!
Primarch Cassio, and the Red Blades
- Location
- Deep Within the Pennsylvanian Forests
There is no boy quite like Archmagos Explorator Alterferro Cassio-001, child of the Master of Mankind, christened in the Forge. There is none quite so erudite, none quite so reasoned, none quite so skillful at coaxing life into the Machine Spirits under his care.
And like the greatest of beings, his beginnings were humble.
Cassio-001, though at this point he was of course uncategorized, appeared one day in the bays of a Martian colony ship. His genes could not be categorized into one of the existing genetic lineages aboard, so it was assumed he was the byproduct of two existing lineages' menials, for this was not an uncommon discovery in the lazy hulls of a ship in transit. Thus, his lineage was assigned a new name, and he its primary designation.
What a lineage it was! Through sheer hard work and perseverance, Cassio-001 would, days after landing on the new colony of Spodium, become an instrumental and inspiring presence within his work unit, and also a young adult. Within the year, news of this strange wonder-child had reached the auditory sensors of a nearby Magios Biologis, who seconded him up out of the children's scholar-laborer group to join him as a subject in his laboratory. He was studied there with full scientific rigor, but learned so much in those days it was more like the Genetors were his subjects. He possessed a theologian's silver tongue, a mind that could outrun any technology or trickery the Techpriests measured him against.
Almost before they knew what had happened, Cassio-001 had gained their assent to join the Techpriesthood; he was his own researcher. However, an explorer and voyager at heart, Magos Cassio-001 more and more often took his newfound liberty and used it to direct excavations and explorations across the Spodium system, whose expansive ancient ruins were what had drawn the Forge Colony here in the first place. It was here that Cassio-001 would learn that they were not alone. In his excavations, he would often find himself fending off other forces, the local inhabitants of Spodium's space who had grown used to pilfering its secrets. Meanwhile, the colony struggled. Its home star was harsher than anticipated, so much of its industrial output was redirected back into securing the nutrient supply by hollowing out great underground greenhouses. Unable to meet its growth projections, Mars began to send its precious aid to projects reaping greater returns.
All the while, the assaults and raids grew ever more intense. Rimwards were plunderers and pirates, piloting and despoiling ships far more ancient and precious than their own mythology even supposed. Coreward, petty kings and merchant states chafed under the Sixteen Thousand Stipulations of Holy and Just Trade with the Unbelievers, and swore to open the spaceways by force of arms. Their gold brought wonderful and mysterious navies from far afield to defy the Forge. Spodium was being ground down.
Somehow, there came whispers. Explorator Cassio-001, he'd never been bested in the field. Cassio, even his organic flesh resisted the Electrocorrosive Whip. Loyal scholar Cassio, he could get them out of this. And so it was that the Fabricator-General of Spodium called him forth and demanded he command first a Skitarii cohort, then a Legion, then a Fleet, then the armies of Spodium. His warfighting was skilled and graceful, but he had been given a lost war to fight. Thus, it was under his advice and council that the Fabricator General decreed that the colony would be abandoned, and they would brave the journey to Mars. It was a frenzied fight across the system to secure what relics, starships, and industry they could before they fled.
Explorator Cassio-001's arrival to the Solar System is the stuff of legends. It is said that no fleet bearing the Cogwheel had ever travelled as efficiently as his own. It is known that the Fabricator-General of Mars personally met with the young Techpriest and elevated him to the rank of full Archmagos that very day, and then the Emperor came. In a ceremony at the peak of Olympus Mons, the Blessed Omnissiah himself claimed ownership of his Son, and granted him the secular name of Alterferro Cassio. At Cassio's disposal, the Emperor laid the Mare Cognitum, a mighty Ark Mechanicus he had personally rescued for the Holy Mechanicum at the behest of the Fabricator-General.
It is Cassio's remit to spread Truth across the galaxy and uncover knowledge lost amongst the stars.
And like the greatest of beings, his beginnings were humble.
Cassio-001, though at this point he was of course uncategorized, appeared one day in the bays of a Martian colony ship. His genes could not be categorized into one of the existing genetic lineages aboard, so it was assumed he was the byproduct of two existing lineages' menials, for this was not an uncommon discovery in the lazy hulls of a ship in transit. Thus, his lineage was assigned a new name, and he its primary designation.
What a lineage it was! Through sheer hard work and perseverance, Cassio-001 would, days after landing on the new colony of Spodium, become an instrumental and inspiring presence within his work unit, and also a young adult. Within the year, news of this strange wonder-child had reached the auditory sensors of a nearby Magios Biologis, who seconded him up out of the children's scholar-laborer group to join him as a subject in his laboratory. He was studied there with full scientific rigor, but learned so much in those days it was more like the Genetors were his subjects. He possessed a theologian's silver tongue, a mind that could outrun any technology or trickery the Techpriests measured him against.
Almost before they knew what had happened, Cassio-001 had gained their assent to join the Techpriesthood; he was his own researcher. However, an explorer and voyager at heart, Magos Cassio-001 more and more often took his newfound liberty and used it to direct excavations and explorations across the Spodium system, whose expansive ancient ruins were what had drawn the Forge Colony here in the first place. It was here that Cassio-001 would learn that they were not alone. In his excavations, he would often find himself fending off other forces, the local inhabitants of Spodium's space who had grown used to pilfering its secrets. Meanwhile, the colony struggled. Its home star was harsher than anticipated, so much of its industrial output was redirected back into securing the nutrient supply by hollowing out great underground greenhouses. Unable to meet its growth projections, Mars began to send its precious aid to projects reaping greater returns.
All the while, the assaults and raids grew ever more intense. Rimwards were plunderers and pirates, piloting and despoiling ships far more ancient and precious than their own mythology even supposed. Coreward, petty kings and merchant states chafed under the Sixteen Thousand Stipulations of Holy and Just Trade with the Unbelievers, and swore to open the spaceways by force of arms. Their gold brought wonderful and mysterious navies from far afield to defy the Forge. Spodium was being ground down.
Somehow, there came whispers. Explorator Cassio-001, he'd never been bested in the field. Cassio, even his organic flesh resisted the Electrocorrosive Whip. Loyal scholar Cassio, he could get them out of this. And so it was that the Fabricator-General of Spodium called him forth and demanded he command first a Skitarii cohort, then a Legion, then a Fleet, then the armies of Spodium. His warfighting was skilled and graceful, but he had been given a lost war to fight. Thus, it was under his advice and council that the Fabricator General decreed that the colony would be abandoned, and they would brave the journey to Mars. It was a frenzied fight across the system to secure what relics, starships, and industry they could before they fled.
Explorator Cassio-001's arrival to the Solar System is the stuff of legends. It is said that no fleet bearing the Cogwheel had ever travelled as efficiently as his own. It is known that the Fabricator-General of Mars personally met with the young Techpriest and elevated him to the rank of full Archmagos that very day, and then the Emperor came. In a ceremony at the peak of Olympus Mons, the Blessed Omnissiah himself claimed ownership of his Son, and granted him the secular name of Alterferro Cassio. At Cassio's disposal, the Emperor laid the Mare Cognitum, a mighty Ark Mechanicus he had personally rescued for the Holy Mechanicum at the behest of the Fabricator-General.
It is Cassio's remit to spread Truth across the galaxy and uncover knowledge lost amongst the stars.
Colors: Red with Gold, Grey, and Black
The Red Blades are friends of the Mechanicum and loyal creations of the Emperor of Mankind. A great many are Techmarines or otherwise swear to the Martian Creed, and this can make them come off as cagey to the other Legions and downright esoteric to other elements of the Imperium. They are also frequently Bionically augmented, with a hardened core of Marines forswearing as much flesh as their Lord dictates.
If their Primarch had his way, he would spend his every day excavating ruins to rescue humanity's forgotten knowledge, and the Red Blades possess quite a hoard, concentrated in the vaults of their Ark Mechanicus or in the care of trusted Forge Worlds. They take pride in their continued use of old Volkite, even as ease of use sees Bolters take hold across the ranks of their sibling-legions, and are especially skilled at standing up to the galaxy's most esoteric techno-horrors.
Yet, their greatest assets are their unimpeachable reputation for faithfulness and their Primarch's presence within the fabric of the Mechanicum's spiritual life. Erudite, diplomatic, charming, and helpful, Archmagos Cassio and his Red Blades find friends upon every Forge World and are trusted by swathes of Techpriests to resolve any issue they encounter.
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- Location
- Oklahoma
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Primarch Ikard, and the Trailblazers
Frostbyght
Not Dead Yet
- Pronouns
- He/Him
One sheet + Lore Done:
Second Sheet + Lore in Progress
Named the new ruler of Tezonia, everything would change when a stranger came to town only a few years later. Challenging Ikard to a series of one-on-one competitions, Ikard would find his equal for the first time in his life. Finally beaten in the last challenge, a quick-draw duel at high noon, Ikard would kneel and swear allegiance to the man who had bested him: His Father, the Emperor of Mankind.
Traits: Marksman, Hunter (-200)
Perks: Expert: Scouting, Dauntless, Veteran (-800)
Flaws: Rogue, Disliked. (+400)
Fleetmaster Wilfritz Johnson, Lord of the Ranch.
Wilfritz, despite being of the newer generation of Trailblazers, has rapidly proven his skill in void warfare. He has been given command of The Ranch, the Refurbished Space Hulk that serves as Ikard's Flagship. Wilfritz is known for his jovial personality and natural charisma, a good natured fellow who enjoys hosting dinner parties for fellow fleet commanders from the Imperial Navy. Ikard is even rumored to call him "A darn fine lad." Nevertheless, he has yet to reach his full potential and can still make mistakes from inexperience.
Specialties: Technology, Leadership (-500)
Traits: Admiral, Diplomat (-500)
Perks: Ally (Imperial Navy Admirals), Charismatic (-500)
Flaws: New Recruit, Limited (+500)
MALACHI THE BLIND, PRIMARCH OF THE PATHWALKERS LEGION
Firey Suns: Malachi the Blind
(Legion Specialties: Leadership, Psykers: Spells, Psykers: Arts)
Scion of a world of Psyker-Monks, Malachi is a follower of "The Path", an Esoteric religion from high atop the mountains of Lustrum. His Legion is Psyker-Focused, dedicated to mastering the Great Ocean and themselves via rigorous training and discipline. In battle, they use their powers to augment their own close-quarters fighting style and spearhead attacks by the normal Imperial Military. Malachi firmly believes that Psykers are the next step in human evolution, and seeks to spread his beliefs throughout his Legion and the Imperium.Firey Suns: Malachi the Blind
(Legion Specialties: Leadership, Psykers: Spells, Psykers: Arts)
Lustrum was a world of mountains.
Vast tectonic activity had, in eons past, thrown jagged peaks and sprawling ranges across the planetary landscape. In the planet's youth, it was covered in fire and ash as the land shifted and changed.
But when the first settlers arrived the world was old. A planet at rest. A place of beauty.
As eons passed, those who called Lustrum home carved great shrines and temples and monasteries into the peaks. Places of study and reflection. Monks would spend years in solitude, seeking wisdom and clarity high above the land. Many were Psykers, isolating themselves from the wider populace until their powers could be controlled, or until they died.
These monks grew in influence over the era of Long Night until they were the de facto rulers of the planet. Wise men and monks traveled from town to town, sharing wisdom and law to the faithful populace.
It was to this world that Malachi fell, his pod crashing through the side of a mountaintop monastery. The shock of impact and impurities in his Geneseed left him nearly blind from the moment he was retreieved from his smoking pod by the reverent monks of the Pathward Temple. They raised him as a brother, teaching him patience and detachment from the living world, and instilling him with wisdom acquired from centuries of study and meditation.
His potent Psyker powers did not manifest until he had spent many years tutored and raised by the Monks of the Pathward Temple. The arrival of his powers slew many monks and nearly destroyed his home. Only the intervention of Master Solomon of the Path allowed Malachi to regain some control, as the elder psyker took him away to be trained in the wilderness.
Under Solomon's tutelage, the young Primarch learned balance and peace, bringing calm within his tumultuous mind. It took years of careful study and meditation, of training and travel across the surface of Lustrum, but Malachi eventually achieved a level of mastery beyond even Solomon, and returned home.
Over the many years he was on Lustrum, Malachi slowly grew in wisdom and control, eventually becoming a well-respected Spiritual Leader. Beloved by the populace, Malachi would lead them when a chaotic Ork warband came to his world and brought death and ruin. Turning his powers upon the raiding party, Malachi's wrath annihilated the Warboss as his followers battled the greenskins.
As the rebuilding commenced, the Primarch retreated to his mountaintop monastery to center himself once more, only to find a psychic disturbance in the Great Ocean of the warp. Malachi felt a great entity appear in his mind, and foresaw the coming of golden light to Lustrum. The Emperor had arrived.
Malachi bent the knee, but disagreed with the code of the Imperial Truth. The Path, the culture in which he had been raised, had allowed him to cultivate inner strength, and he refused to abandon it even as he joined the Emperor's Crusade.
Vast tectonic activity had, in eons past, thrown jagged peaks and sprawling ranges across the planetary landscape. In the planet's youth, it was covered in fire and ash as the land shifted and changed.
But when the first settlers arrived the world was old. A planet at rest. A place of beauty.
As eons passed, those who called Lustrum home carved great shrines and temples and monasteries into the peaks. Places of study and reflection. Monks would spend years in solitude, seeking wisdom and clarity high above the land. Many were Psykers, isolating themselves from the wider populace until their powers could be controlled, or until they died.
These monks grew in influence over the era of Long Night until they were the de facto rulers of the planet. Wise men and monks traveled from town to town, sharing wisdom and law to the faithful populace.
It was to this world that Malachi fell, his pod crashing through the side of a mountaintop monastery. The shock of impact and impurities in his Geneseed left him nearly blind from the moment he was retreieved from his smoking pod by the reverent monks of the Pathward Temple. They raised him as a brother, teaching him patience and detachment from the living world, and instilling him with wisdom acquired from centuries of study and meditation.
His potent Psyker powers did not manifest until he had spent many years tutored and raised by the Monks of the Pathward Temple. The arrival of his powers slew many monks and nearly destroyed his home. Only the intervention of Master Solomon of the Path allowed Malachi to regain some control, as the elder psyker took him away to be trained in the wilderness.
Under Solomon's tutelage, the young Primarch learned balance and peace, bringing calm within his tumultuous mind. It took years of careful study and meditation, of training and travel across the surface of Lustrum, but Malachi eventually achieved a level of mastery beyond even Solomon, and returned home.
Over the many years he was on Lustrum, Malachi slowly grew in wisdom and control, eventually becoming a well-respected Spiritual Leader. Beloved by the populace, Malachi would lead them when a chaotic Ork warband came to his world and brought death and ruin. Turning his powers upon the raiding party, Malachi's wrath annihilated the Warboss as his followers battled the greenskins.
As the rebuilding commenced, the Primarch retreated to his mountaintop monastery to center himself once more, only to find a psychic disturbance in the Great Ocean of the warp. Malachi felt a great entity appear in his mind, and foresaw the coming of golden light to Lustrum. The Emperor had arrived.
Malachi bent the knee, but disagreed with the code of the Imperial Truth. The Path, the culture in which he had been raised, had allowed him to cultivate inner strength, and he refused to abandon it even as he joined the Emperor's Crusade.
Before the Arrival of their Primarch, the Legion that would become the Pathwalkers was considered rather unlucky. Geneseed flaws led to few recruits surviving to join, and it seemed those that did survive often had issues with their vision. Nevertheless, they did their duty in bringing more and more worlds under the Emperor's control.
With flaws in the Legion's Geenseed, and propensity towards Psykers in the ranks, some within the Legion feared that they would never compare to their brothers across the Imperium. It was one Space Marine, a wise Librarian by the name of Poscadan, who would offer wisdom to the Legion. He encouraged them to see the flaws in their Geenseed as a chance to adapt and excel, rather than a weight dragging them down.
And so, over the years of the Crusade, the Legion learned to adapt. Psykers were trained to rigorous standards, and most Marines trained with Melee weaponry or their bare hands to counter their faulty sight.
It was into this culture of self-improvement and adaptation that Malachi arrived to join his sons. Seeing their troubles with both their psyker powers and their vision, Malachi joined with Poscadan to assist his sons. His years of training on Lustrum gave him great insight into these subjects. Spending time with his Legion, he taught them of the Path, of his teachers on Lustrum, and of the benefits of detachment and inner peace.
He found fertile ground for the teachings of the Path. It was Poscadan, now called "Brother Po the Wise", who first conveted to the following the teachings of his Primarch. Very soon, a large amount of the Legion followed. He encouraged his bothers and sons not to fear the psykers, but to embrace them and train them to the highest standard. It was due to these violations of the Imperial Truth that Malachi was placed under watch.
Yet with their Primarch at the Helm, it seemed the Legion could do no wrong. It was said Malachi was blessed with wisdom and luck to balance the loss of his sight. He would often spend many days in seclusion and meditation, only emerging when he felt he was most needed. He would soon become known as a benevolent conqueror as his Legion marched across the stars.
With flaws in the Legion's Geenseed, and propensity towards Psykers in the ranks, some within the Legion feared that they would never compare to their brothers across the Imperium. It was one Space Marine, a wise Librarian by the name of Poscadan, who would offer wisdom to the Legion. He encouraged them to see the flaws in their Geenseed as a chance to adapt and excel, rather than a weight dragging them down.
And so, over the years of the Crusade, the Legion learned to adapt. Psykers were trained to rigorous standards, and most Marines trained with Melee weaponry or their bare hands to counter their faulty sight.
It was into this culture of self-improvement and adaptation that Malachi arrived to join his sons. Seeing their troubles with both their psyker powers and their vision, Malachi joined with Poscadan to assist his sons. His years of training on Lustrum gave him great insight into these subjects. Spending time with his Legion, he taught them of the Path, of his teachers on Lustrum, and of the benefits of detachment and inner peace.
He found fertile ground for the teachings of the Path. It was Poscadan, now called "Brother Po the Wise", who first conveted to the following the teachings of his Primarch. Very soon, a large amount of the Legion followed. He encouraged his bothers and sons not to fear the psykers, but to embrace them and train them to the highest standard. It was due to these violations of the Imperial Truth that Malachi was placed under watch.
Yet with their Primarch at the Helm, it seemed the Legion could do no wrong. It was said Malachi was blessed with wisdom and luck to balance the loss of his sight. He would often spend many days in seclusion and meditation, only emerging when he felt he was most needed. He would soon become known as a benevolent conqueror as his Legion marched across the stars.
Perks:
Honored Legion (100): Where the Legion treads, victory follows. Their shining armor and rigid discipline has led to a certain amount of honor on those worlds where they are known. They are beloved on Lustrum.
Master Fighter (200): Primarch Malachi, despite his disability, has mastered the Martial Arts of his homeworld. Using his Psychic powers as a sixth sense, he is a master in unarmed and armed combat, and a terrifying sight on the battlefield.
Special Fluff (Unarmed Combat) (300): Bringing traditions from Lustrum to his Legion, Malachi has trained his sons in the arts of the Monks of the Pathward Temple. A potent fusion of Psyker arts and hand-to-hand combat.
Psyker (500): Malachi's powers awoke when he was young, and in their uncontrolled state nearly destroyed his home atop one of Lustrum's many peaks. Through intense training and discipline, he has mastered them, and now seeks to expand his understand of the Great Ocean.
Legion Psykers (500): Like their gene-father, the Legion has vast and powerful Psychic abilities.
Flaws:
Primitive Homeworld (-100): Lustrum has remained stuck in a relative technological dark age since the fall of old night. Local technology is barely beyond renaissance level, and any caches of modern or advanced technology are few and far between.
Faithful (Primarch + Legion) (-200): Malachi wasted no time in spreading the tenants of the Path to his sons. The Path consists of ritualized meditation and exercises intended to lead one 'along the Path to enlightenment', with the final goal being something along the lines of true inner peace. Includes elements of ancestor worship and general spiritualism.
Primarch Lesser Mutation (-200): Malachi is blind. During his arrival to Lustrum, the impact of his pod into the mountainside combine with minor flaws inherent in his genetic code meant that he was blinded completely, and his eyes never healed. As such, they are sightless orbs of dark grey, with no pupil or iris to be seen. He often wears wrappings to cover them, when not wearing his helmet.
Geneseed Mutation (-300): Failing Occulobes are incredibly common amongst the Neophytes of the Legion. While their enhanced biology is usually able to compensate, every Space Marine of the Legion does not share the super-human vision of their cousins. Some go blind after a century or two.
Rival: Entity (-300): TBD
Rival: Primarch (-300): TBD
Honored Legion (100): Where the Legion treads, victory follows. Their shining armor and rigid discipline has led to a certain amount of honor on those worlds where they are known. They are beloved on Lustrum.
Master Fighter (200): Primarch Malachi, despite his disability, has mastered the Martial Arts of his homeworld. Using his Psychic powers as a sixth sense, he is a master in unarmed and armed combat, and a terrifying sight on the battlefield.
Special Fluff (Unarmed Combat) (300): Bringing traditions from Lustrum to his Legion, Malachi has trained his sons in the arts of the Monks of the Pathward Temple. A potent fusion of Psyker arts and hand-to-hand combat.
Psyker (500): Malachi's powers awoke when he was young, and in their uncontrolled state nearly destroyed his home atop one of Lustrum's many peaks. Through intense training and discipline, he has mastered them, and now seeks to expand his understand of the Great Ocean.
Legion Psykers (500): Like their gene-father, the Legion has vast and powerful Psychic abilities.
Flaws:
Primitive Homeworld (-100): Lustrum has remained stuck in a relative technological dark age since the fall of old night. Local technology is barely beyond renaissance level, and any caches of modern or advanced technology are few and far between.
Faithful (Primarch + Legion) (-200): Malachi wasted no time in spreading the tenants of the Path to his sons. The Path consists of ritualized meditation and exercises intended to lead one 'along the Path to enlightenment', with the final goal being something along the lines of true inner peace. Includes elements of ancestor worship and general spiritualism.
Primarch Lesser Mutation (-200): Malachi is blind. During his arrival to Lustrum, the impact of his pod into the mountainside combine with minor flaws inherent in his genetic code meant that he was blinded completely, and his eyes never healed. As such, they are sightless orbs of dark grey, with no pupil or iris to be seen. He often wears wrappings to cover them, when not wearing his helmet.
Geneseed Mutation (-300): Failing Occulobes are incredibly common amongst the Neophytes of the Legion. While their enhanced biology is usually able to compensate, every Space Marine of the Legion does not share the super-human vision of their cousins. Some go blind after a century or two.
Rival: Entity (-300): TBD
Rival: Primarch (-300): TBD
Brother Po the Wise: Legion Master and Trainer of Neophytes.
The first of Malachi's students in the ways of The Path, Po took to his Father's teachings like a fish to water. Using them to control his own copious Psychic powers he now instructs other members of the Legion as Malachi's second in command and most trusted son. He often runs the day to day operations of the Pathwalkers while his Primarch is studying or meditating. He rarely takes to the battlefield, thanks to his duties and war injuries from before the Primarch arrived, but he remains a potent force on the rare occasions he deploys with his brothers.
Specialties: Training, Leadership, Champion (-500)
Traits: Psyker, Diplomat (-500)
Perks: Expert (Training), Veteran, Experienced, Intelligent (+1000)
Flaws: Maimed, Peaked (-1000)
Brother Shin The Unyielding: Fleetmaster and Duelist
Commander of the Legion Gloriana "First Step", Shin is one of the few brothers in the legion with no Psychic potential whatsoever. Nevertheless, he has taken to the Path along with his brothers and become a trusted advisor of Malachi, proving himself the greatest shipmaster in the Legion. He is also immensely skilled with a blade, and freely challenges any brother who would insult him for lacking Psychic might. This happens rather frequently, as Shin is known for his dour attitude and quick temper.
Specialties: Technology, Intelligence (-600)
Traits: Admiral, Duelist (-400)
Perks: Dauntless, Talented (-500)
Flaws: Unpleasant, Disliked (+500)
The first of Malachi's students in the ways of The Path, Po took to his Father's teachings like a fish to water. Using them to control his own copious Psychic powers he now instructs other members of the Legion as Malachi's second in command and most trusted son. He often runs the day to day operations of the Pathwalkers while his Primarch is studying or meditating. He rarely takes to the battlefield, thanks to his duties and war injuries from before the Primarch arrived, but he remains a potent force on the rare occasions he deploys with his brothers.
Specialties: Training, Leadership, Champion (-500)
Traits: Psyker, Diplomat (-500)
Perks: Expert (Training), Veteran, Experienced, Intelligent (+1000)
Flaws: Maimed, Peaked (-1000)
Brother Shin The Unyielding: Fleetmaster and Duelist
Commander of the Legion Gloriana "First Step", Shin is one of the few brothers in the legion with no Psychic potential whatsoever. Nevertheless, he has taken to the Path along with his brothers and become a trusted advisor of Malachi, proving himself the greatest shipmaster in the Legion. He is also immensely skilled with a blade, and freely challenges any brother who would insult him for lacking Psychic might. This happens rather frequently, as Shin is known for his dour attitude and quick temper.
Specialties: Technology, Intelligence (-600)
Traits: Admiral, Duelist (-400)
Perks: Dauntless, Talented (-500)
Flaws: Unpleasant, Disliked (+500)
Second Sheet + Lore in Progress
Ikard "Big Red" Augustine, The Lone Star
Primarch of the Trailblazers Legion
(Legion Specialties: Mechanized Warfare, Leadership)
Arriving on the Agri-World of Tezonia, Ikard would rapidly become a legend to the scattered farm communities of that primitive world. Having barely rediscovered Steam and Gunpowder, Tezonia was rife with feuding noble families, outlaws, and strange beasts in the wilds. Raised by a traveling Ranch Hand, Ikard would learn the ways of life on the trail. With a gun on his hip and a swagger in his step, Ikard Augustine became a nomadic hero. Herding Grox, fighting outlaws, and traveling the vast plains of Tezonia, he would slowly gather a massive group of followers in a wandering kingdom. Eventually he would be come to be called "The Lone Star", a traveling hero and a beacon of hope. As instability, Skaven Infestations, and Drukhari Raiders threatened the planet, Ikard and his followers eventually launched a massive war to overthrow the corrupt governor of Tezonia and remove the Xenos threats.Primarch of the Trailblazers Legion
(Legion Specialties: Mechanized Warfare, Leadership)
Named the new ruler of Tezonia, everything would change when a stranger came to town only a few years later. Challenging Ikard to a series of one-on-one competitions, Ikard would find his equal for the first time in his life. Finally beaten in the last challenge, a quick-draw duel at high noon, Ikard would kneel and swear allegiance to the man who had bested him: His Father, the Emperor of Mankind.
Fertile Planes and flowing rivers criss-cross the surface of Tezonia. In the Long Night, the scattered cities of the Argi-World had fallen into separation and barbarity, clinging to only the most rudimentary technology to see them through the hard times. Over the centuries, towns rose and fell, ranches were built and went to ruin, and life went on across the land. It was a hard life, focused on farming the fertile soil and raising massive herds of livestock that fed on the widespread prairies.
All was not well, however. The open wilderness and isolated communities led to banditry growing uncontrollably across the land, as roving bands of criminals preyed on caravans, livestock trains, and lone farmsteads. The many noble families in the few true cities on the planet feuded for power and wealth and ignored the plight of the people around them. Wandering sheriffs and rangers did their best to keep the peach, but they were few and far between.
Things would change with the coming of a legend out of the west. A traveling herdsman and gunslinger with a shock of fiery red hair, twice as tall as any man on the plains. He rode across the vast landscape, protecting his herd from rustlers and outlaws. From time to time, he would wander through the isolated towns of the frontier, just stopping long enough to do business or help the locals with a problem. Then he would vanish again into the horizon, blazing trails through the vast grasslands.
In time his name was spoken of and sung around campfires across the land: Ikard Augustine, called "Big Red".
As the years passed and Augustine's legend grew, he slowly became a staple of the land. Ranch owners knew that when Big Red was passing by, their herds would be safe. Some people even started to follow him, joining Ikard in his endless roaming across the landscape. A nomadic city soon sprouted, with Big Red as its center. He managed the herd, his posse of followers, and the many people who had joined them for safety from the dangers of the wide world. And there were dangers aplenty: Skaven infestations, Raider Bands, and Drukhari Rustlers just to name a few. Every year it seemed there were more rats, more bandits, and Raids from the stars. Soon, it became so bad that it was clear something had to be done.
Tezonia had a ruler, a so called "Planetary Governor" who ruled by fear and cared nothing for the people outside his fortress city, far from the plains. He offered nothing to defend the people from the Drukhari or the Skaven, and just laughed at the burning towns and ranches that dotted the landscape. Ikard, finally, had enough. He turned his nomad kingdom into an army, leading it against the governor and his minions. The war would last years, as Ikard slowly launched campaign after campaign to whittle down the Governor and besiege his fortress.
In the end, the Governor was hanged from his own mansion, and Ikard named the new ruler of the planet: The Lone Star. He ruled for years with justice and integrity, slowly putting down bandit gangs and reuniting the separated settlements of Tezonia.
One day, a Stranger came to down. Dressed in rags and covered in dust from the long road, he made his way to Augustine's manor in the newly expanded capital city as a yearly festival began. The stranger asked to be allowed to compete, not against the local champions, but against Big Red himself. Many laughed at the strangers confidence, for Big Red was taller and stronger and quicker than any man on Tezonia. Nevertheless, Ikard accepted the challenge with a smile, and the stranger wagered that whoever lost the competition would swear his eternal loyalty and obedience to the victor.
Drinking, Grox Riding, Shooting, Lassoing, in every competition the stranger and Ikard were evenly matched. Folks were astonished as the strange man from out of town competed toe to toe with their champion. The two men, united in a battle of wits and will, grew to respect one another quickly. They were evenly matched and a bond formed that would never be broken, yet for every round that passed Ikard found himself a little slower, a little tired, whereas the Stranger seemed never to run out of energy. Finally, with every competition exhausted, Big Red declared one final challenge. A quick draw duel, in the town center, at high noon. The two met beneath the burning sun, a pistol on each of their hips.
As the clock struck noon, the two men's hands were quick as lightning, but to Big Red's shock, the Stranger's gun had already fired before his own had cleared leather. A puff of dirt from the ground in front of Ikard showed him that the man could have shot the Lone Star easily, but chose not to. In awe of the Stranger's swiftness and mercy, Big Red acknowledged defeat, knelt, and swore his loyalty.
Only then did the Stranger reveal himself as the Emperor of Mankind. Ikard's true father. Tezonia was to be a new world of the Imperium, and as Ikard learned of the many vast frontiers left to explore, he eagerly agreed to join his father's realm.
All was not well, however. The open wilderness and isolated communities led to banditry growing uncontrollably across the land, as roving bands of criminals preyed on caravans, livestock trains, and lone farmsteads. The many noble families in the few true cities on the planet feuded for power and wealth and ignored the plight of the people around them. Wandering sheriffs and rangers did their best to keep the peach, but they were few and far between.
Things would change with the coming of a legend out of the west. A traveling herdsman and gunslinger with a shock of fiery red hair, twice as tall as any man on the plains. He rode across the vast landscape, protecting his herd from rustlers and outlaws. From time to time, he would wander through the isolated towns of the frontier, just stopping long enough to do business or help the locals with a problem. Then he would vanish again into the horizon, blazing trails through the vast grasslands.
In time his name was spoken of and sung around campfires across the land: Ikard Augustine, called "Big Red".
As the years passed and Augustine's legend grew, he slowly became a staple of the land. Ranch owners knew that when Big Red was passing by, their herds would be safe. Some people even started to follow him, joining Ikard in his endless roaming across the landscape. A nomadic city soon sprouted, with Big Red as its center. He managed the herd, his posse of followers, and the many people who had joined them for safety from the dangers of the wide world. And there were dangers aplenty: Skaven infestations, Raider Bands, and Drukhari Rustlers just to name a few. Every year it seemed there were more rats, more bandits, and Raids from the stars. Soon, it became so bad that it was clear something had to be done.
Tezonia had a ruler, a so called "Planetary Governor" who ruled by fear and cared nothing for the people outside his fortress city, far from the plains. He offered nothing to defend the people from the Drukhari or the Skaven, and just laughed at the burning towns and ranches that dotted the landscape. Ikard, finally, had enough. He turned his nomad kingdom into an army, leading it against the governor and his minions. The war would last years, as Ikard slowly launched campaign after campaign to whittle down the Governor and besiege his fortress.
In the end, the Governor was hanged from his own mansion, and Ikard named the new ruler of the planet: The Lone Star. He ruled for years with justice and integrity, slowly putting down bandit gangs and reuniting the separated settlements of Tezonia.
One day, a Stranger came to down. Dressed in rags and covered in dust from the long road, he made his way to Augustine's manor in the newly expanded capital city as a yearly festival began. The stranger asked to be allowed to compete, not against the local champions, but against Big Red himself. Many laughed at the strangers confidence, for Big Red was taller and stronger and quicker than any man on Tezonia. Nevertheless, Ikard accepted the challenge with a smile, and the stranger wagered that whoever lost the competition would swear his eternal loyalty and obedience to the victor.
Drinking, Grox Riding, Shooting, Lassoing, in every competition the stranger and Ikard were evenly matched. Folks were astonished as the strange man from out of town competed toe to toe with their champion. The two men, united in a battle of wits and will, grew to respect one another quickly. They were evenly matched and a bond formed that would never be broken, yet for every round that passed Ikard found himself a little slower, a little tired, whereas the Stranger seemed never to run out of energy. Finally, with every competition exhausted, Big Red declared one final challenge. A quick draw duel, in the town center, at high noon. The two met beneath the burning sun, a pistol on each of their hips.
As the clock struck noon, the two men's hands were quick as lightning, but to Big Red's shock, the Stranger's gun had already fired before his own had cleared leather. A puff of dirt from the ground in front of Ikard showed him that the man could have shot the Lone Star easily, but chose not to. In awe of the Stranger's swiftness and mercy, Big Red acknowledged defeat, knelt, and swore his loyalty.
Only then did the Stranger reveal himself as the Emperor of Mankind. Ikard's true father. Tezonia was to be a new world of the Imperium, and as Ikard learned of the many vast frontiers left to explore, he eagerly agreed to join his father's realm.
The Trailblazers, as they would come to be known, began as a small and under-equipped Legion. Their early strength was expended on campaigns in the far reaches of the Imperial Frontier, as their ships always seemed to be the first to arrive at any chosen battlefield. They were used as forward scouts and slapdash reinforcements for armies in distress. By the time Ikard met his sons, they were scattered, ill-equipped, and few in number.
Ikard, with the permission of the Emperor, called the remnants of his sons back to the Solar System. There, in his first meeting with his gene-sons, he declared the Legion reborn as the Trailblazers. No longer would they be thrown, unprepared, into the worst battlefields the Imperium of Man had to offer. No longer would they recruit anyone they could gets their hands on to fill voids in their ranks. No longer would they be forced to scrounge equipment, far from the factories of Mars.
During his time in the Solar System, Ikard petitioned the Mechanicum and the High Lords for extra resources to be directed to his rebuilding Legion. He promised favors that he knew, one day, he would have to repay, but no price was too great for his sons. For his trouble, his ranks grew, and he was granted a massive, refurbished Space Hulk as his Flagship. He would name it "The Ranch", a tribute to his home world. In his dealings with the high lords, he found himself opposed to two of the main factions. The Purists and the Elites he disliked on a personal level, as their attitudes towards the common folk of the Imperium reminded him far too much of the Governor and his lackeys on Tezonia.
Nevertheless, when the assembled Legion and its fleet left the Solar system, it was a glorious sight. Fleets of starships and more than a hundred-thousand marines paraded before their Primarch and the Emperor. A day never to be forgotten.
Nowadays, the Trailblazers still fight on the frontiers of the Imperium, but they do not fight alone. No longer scattered. Instead, they are the quick-reaction force of the front line. In battle they ride APCs, Tanks, and Bikes in great charging Posses, breaking the enemy before them in grand mechanized offensives.
Ikard rarely joins the front lines, preferring to keep things moving behind the scenes. As he puts it, keeping the armies of the Imperium together is "Just like herding Grox. Keep 'em fed, keep 'em moving, and keep the trail clear."
Ikard, with the permission of the Emperor, called the remnants of his sons back to the Solar System. There, in his first meeting with his gene-sons, he declared the Legion reborn as the Trailblazers. No longer would they be thrown, unprepared, into the worst battlefields the Imperium of Man had to offer. No longer would they recruit anyone they could gets their hands on to fill voids in their ranks. No longer would they be forced to scrounge equipment, far from the factories of Mars.
During his time in the Solar System, Ikard petitioned the Mechanicum and the High Lords for extra resources to be directed to his rebuilding Legion. He promised favors that he knew, one day, he would have to repay, but no price was too great for his sons. For his trouble, his ranks grew, and he was granted a massive, refurbished Space Hulk as his Flagship. He would name it "The Ranch", a tribute to his home world. In his dealings with the high lords, he found himself opposed to two of the main factions. The Purists and the Elites he disliked on a personal level, as their attitudes towards the common folk of the Imperium reminded him far too much of the Governor and his lackeys on Tezonia.
Nevertheless, when the assembled Legion and its fleet left the Solar system, it was a glorious sight. Fleets of starships and more than a hundred-thousand marines paraded before their Primarch and the Emperor. A day never to be forgotten.
Nowadays, the Trailblazers still fight on the frontiers of the Imperium, but they do not fight alone. No longer scattered. Instead, they are the quick-reaction force of the front line. In battle they ride APCs, Tanks, and Bikes in great charging Posses, breaking the enemy before them in grand mechanized offensives.
Ikard rarely joins the front lines, preferring to keep things moving behind the scenes. As he puts it, keeping the armies of the Imperium together is "Just like herding Grox. Keep 'em fed, keep 'em moving, and keep the trail clear."
Perks:
Favored By the Tides: Ikard has always had skill finding the best path through rough territory. In his time on Tezonia, this helped his herd stay safe in the wilds. In the Imperium, it seems Ikard and his sons always seem to know which Warp Current to follow to speed them on their way.
Explorer: Ikard is no stranger to new lands and strange frontiers. A wanderer for many years, Ikard knows how to seek out even the most hidden place for his own benefit.
Emperor's Favor: In their showdown on Tezonia, the Emperor and his son made a connection. A bond shared by two fellas in competition. Since Ikard's joining the Imperium, the Emperor has favored his son, and the bond remains.
Flaws:
Primitive Homeworld: Tezonia has only just rediscovered steam power and gunpowder when Ikard arrived. Even as it rejoins the Imperium, it will take many years before it can be considered equivalent to other Worlds.
Slim Recruitment: The Trailblazers are exacting in their requirements for new recruits. They must be strong, swift, and have the right "attitude" for the Legion. They look for new neophytes with loyalty, mental discipline, and protective instinct. Few make the cut.
Newly Born: The Trailblazers were barely a Legion when Ikard arrived. He declared the Legion reborn upon his return to his sons, and has since rebuilt it from the ground up. Few remnants of the Legion remain from before Ikard's arrival.
Rivals (Purists, Elites, Xeren): Ikard considers himself a man of the people. A man to whom even the smallest mortal of the Imperium can look up to. The attitudes of the Elites and the Purists have turned him into a staunch opponent of them and their supporters. Xeren, his fellow Primarch, he distrusts and dislikes on a deeply personal level. Xeren has failed the Imperium once. Who is to say he will not fail it again?
Debts Owed: To rebuild his broken Legion, Ikard had to make promises to the high lords and the Mechanicum. He owes the Lord of the Jupiter Shipyards for his massive fleet and his Space-Hulk Flagship. He knows these debts will one day be called in, but he was willing to do it for his sons.
Favored By the Tides: Ikard has always had skill finding the best path through rough territory. In his time on Tezonia, this helped his herd stay safe in the wilds. In the Imperium, it seems Ikard and his sons always seem to know which Warp Current to follow to speed them on their way.
Explorer: Ikard is no stranger to new lands and strange frontiers. A wanderer for many years, Ikard knows how to seek out even the most hidden place for his own benefit.
Emperor's Favor: In their showdown on Tezonia, the Emperor and his son made a connection. A bond shared by two fellas in competition. Since Ikard's joining the Imperium, the Emperor has favored his son, and the bond remains.
Flaws:
Primitive Homeworld: Tezonia has only just rediscovered steam power and gunpowder when Ikard arrived. Even as it rejoins the Imperium, it will take many years before it can be considered equivalent to other Worlds.
Slim Recruitment: The Trailblazers are exacting in their requirements for new recruits. They must be strong, swift, and have the right "attitude" for the Legion. They look for new neophytes with loyalty, mental discipline, and protective instinct. Few make the cut.
Newly Born: The Trailblazers were barely a Legion when Ikard arrived. He declared the Legion reborn upon his return to his sons, and has since rebuilt it from the ground up. Few remnants of the Legion remain from before Ikard's arrival.
Rivals (Purists, Elites, Xeren): Ikard considers himself a man of the people. A man to whom even the smallest mortal of the Imperium can look up to. The attitudes of the Elites and the Purists have turned him into a staunch opponent of them and their supporters. Xeren, his fellow Primarch, he distrusts and dislikes on a deeply personal level. Xeren has failed the Imperium once. Who is to say he will not fail it again?
Debts Owed: To rebuild his broken Legion, Ikard had to make promises to the high lords and the Mechanicum. He owes the Lord of the Jupiter Shipyards for his massive fleet and his Space-Hulk Flagship. He knows these debts will one day be called in, but he was willing to do it for his sons.
Scoutmaster Diego Halgar, The Rough Rider
One of the few survivors of the Legion from the Pre-Ikard days, Diego has spent more time away from the Legion than with it. An expert at independent operations, Ikard relies on Diego as the front-runner of any new offensives. Diego is often inserted into target systems with a small posse of scouts, seeking intelligence and weaknesses in enemy defenses and removing any major threats before the arrival of the main force. His time away from the rest of the Legion has, however, led to rumors that he is not as loyal to the Primarch as the rest of his Brothers. Ikard does not give credit to this whispering, but others in the legion do.
Specialties: Scouting, Intelligence (-400)
One of the few survivors of the Legion from the Pre-Ikard days, Diego has spent more time away from the Legion than with it. An expert at independent operations, Ikard relies on Diego as the front-runner of any new offensives. Diego is often inserted into target systems with a small posse of scouts, seeking intelligence and weaknesses in enemy defenses and removing any major threats before the arrival of the main force. His time away from the rest of the Legion has, however, led to rumors that he is not as loyal to the Primarch as the rest of his Brothers. Ikard does not give credit to this whispering, but others in the legion do.
Traits: Marksman, Hunter (-200)
Perks: Expert: Scouting, Dauntless, Veteran (-800)
Flaws: Rogue, Disliked. (+400)
Fleetmaster Wilfritz Johnson, Lord of the Ranch.
Wilfritz, despite being of the newer generation of Trailblazers, has rapidly proven his skill in void warfare. He has been given command of The Ranch, the Refurbished Space Hulk that serves as Ikard's Flagship. Wilfritz is known for his jovial personality and natural charisma, a good natured fellow who enjoys hosting dinner parties for fellow fleet commanders from the Imperial Navy. Ikard is even rumored to call him "A darn fine lad." Nevertheless, he has yet to reach his full potential and can still make mistakes from inexperience.
Specialties: Technology, Leadership (-500)
Traits: Admiral, Diplomat (-500)
Perks: Ally (Imperial Navy Admirals), Charismatic (-500)
Flaws: New Recruit, Limited (+500)
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- Location
- Ireland
'Humans are like any other animals. they are driven by base emotions; hate, lust, hunger, fear, pain. All that we do differently is acknowledge that and use it'
Beleth of the Whisperers
The project of the Imperium requires the subordination of the millions of worlds of man. It is thus required that untolled billions will die in its fufillment and further billions perish in the inevitable rebellions that will wrack a restless galaxy. It is the duty of the Whisperers to esure that the number of billions is as low as possible. Where others use bolter and blade, fear and terror serve the whisperers. Reviled throughout the empire as the necessary evil of the empire they are regarded meerly as unthinking butchers, sadists with no purpose other than to scare recalcitrant worlds into line. This is of coruse what the Whisperers want. For the Whisperers, and their enigmatic primarch Beleth, relly on fear itself to keep worlds in line. Their role is to produce the maximum impact from the minimum of ... unpleasentness. The Whispers are not ones to shy away from what they feel is necessary and will do terrible unspeakable things but it is out of a sense of utilitarianism. If a world's resistance can be broken by flaying several prominent Keystone leaders and displaying their broken bodies like grisly trophies surely it is more moral than for tens of thousands perishing in a struggle. Atleast that is the theroy. Much of what the legion focus on of course is not the commitment of their crimes, and they do consider then as crimes, but through the amplication of those crimes to the a wider galaxy. They are not just careless butcherers, they are scholars. Thousands of tomes have been prodcued by the legion of the psycologies of different species and how to break them.
Not much is known about Primarch Beleth, it is often beleived that he works more often through proxies and masqurading body doubles when interacting with the other primarchs than meeting them inperson. To what purspose this is done is currently unkown. They are neither liked by their peers nor by the wider imperium. This dose not matter; they serve the purpose for which they were created and thus enjoy the emperor's favor. The hatred of others has ensured the internal bonds of the legion remain strong but as a counterpoint the legion enjoys little interaction with seperate groups.
Beleth, the Ghoul, First Speaker of the Whisperers
Homeword: Transval 6 (agri world, legion maintains no presence there)
Vices: Vulgar, Melancholic
Virtues: Inteligent, Empathetic
The Whisperers
General: 1,900
Specailties: Morale Breaking, Unconventional warfare, Asymmetrical warfare (600)
Strength: Full (200)
Flagship: Arc Mechanicus (500) The Slient
Legion Navy: Full (200)
Favoured Enemy: Assorted Xenos, Humans (400)
Role: Magistrate
Elite: Seekers
Auxilary, Space Minor(0)
Auxilary, Ground: Minor (0)
Auxilary Type: Trained (0)
Auxillary (titans): Warhound (0)
Heros:
Primarch Perks: 1000
Emperors Favor (1000)
Legion Perks: 1100
Vetrans (400)
Unified Legion (300)
Stalward (400)
Flaws: 3700 (2500 offset but went over)
Dishonoured: -100
Misunderstood: -200
Dispised legion: -500
Touched: -1000 * 2 (-2000)
Rivals*3: -900 (not the most popular legion)
Beleth of the Whisperers
The project of the Imperium requires the subordination of the millions of worlds of man. It is thus required that untolled billions will die in its fufillment and further billions perish in the inevitable rebellions that will wrack a restless galaxy. It is the duty of the Whisperers to esure that the number of billions is as low as possible. Where others use bolter and blade, fear and terror serve the whisperers. Reviled throughout the empire as the necessary evil of the empire they are regarded meerly as unthinking butchers, sadists with no purpose other than to scare recalcitrant worlds into line. This is of coruse what the Whisperers want. For the Whisperers, and their enigmatic primarch Beleth, relly on fear itself to keep worlds in line. Their role is to produce the maximum impact from the minimum of ... unpleasentness. The Whispers are not ones to shy away from what they feel is necessary and will do terrible unspeakable things but it is out of a sense of utilitarianism. If a world's resistance can be broken by flaying several prominent Keystone leaders and displaying their broken bodies like grisly trophies surely it is more moral than for tens of thousands perishing in a struggle. Atleast that is the theroy. Much of what the legion focus on of course is not the commitment of their crimes, and they do consider then as crimes, but through the amplication of those crimes to the a wider galaxy. They are not just careless butcherers, they are scholars. Thousands of tomes have been prodcued by the legion of the psycologies of different species and how to break them.
Not much is known about Primarch Beleth, it is often beleived that he works more often through proxies and masqurading body doubles when interacting with the other primarchs than meeting them inperson. To what purspose this is done is currently unkown. They are neither liked by their peers nor by the wider imperium. This dose not matter; they serve the purpose for which they were created and thus enjoy the emperor's favor. The hatred of others has ensured the internal bonds of the legion remain strong but as a counterpoint the legion enjoys little interaction with seperate groups.
Beleth, the Ghoul, First Speaker of the Whisperers
Homeword: Transval 6 (agri world, legion maintains no presence there)
Vices: Vulgar, Melancholic
Virtues: Inteligent, Empathetic
The Whisperers
General: 1,900
Specailties: Morale Breaking, Unconventional warfare, Asymmetrical warfare (600)
Strength: Full (200)
Flagship: Arc Mechanicus (500) The Slient
Legion Navy: Full (200)
Favoured Enemy: Assorted Xenos, Humans (400)
Role: Magistrate
Elite: Seekers
Auxilary, Space Minor(0)
Auxilary, Ground: Minor (0)
Auxilary Type: Trained (0)
Auxillary (titans): Warhound (0)
Heros:
Primarch Perks: 1000
Emperors Favor (1000)
Legion Perks: 1100
Vetrans (400)
Unified Legion (300)
Stalward (400)
Flaws: 3700 (2500 offset but went over)
Dishonoured: -100
Misunderstood: -200
Dispised legion: -500
Touched: -1000 * 2 (-2000)
Rivals*3: -900 (not the most popular legion)
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Primarch Ofimil, of the Prometheans
Mortis Nuntius
Theon Killjoy
- Location
- United Kingdom
Ofimil, Twin app.
"Almost ther-woaah! Imiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiil!" If there was a motto that Ofimil lived her life by that would be it, from almost the moment of her creation she was possessed by an insatiable curiosity and an incredible talent for finding herself in predicaments. It wasn't always totally her fault…things just seemed to catch her eye and other things would activate…or detonate.
Whilst her sister lead a haunted existence amongst the ruins Ofimil delighted in them, scouring them for parts, repairing ancient machinery, speaking to the remaining thinking machines, breaking and mending and undertaking an unending quest for adventure, discovery and excitement. The ghosts of that world were her friends, her family even and she felt safe in their presence, a presence she could feel on a level beyond any ordinary sense, she had an almost magical affinity for all things mechanical or databorn, she saw the world in a way her sister never could and this led to frequent arguments between them. Imil's stupid insistence on hiding and endless warnings put a great strain on the sisters' relationship, yet they would sooner or later end up curled up together in some spire or subbasement and their quarrels would pass like stormclouds.
Maybe in time they could have scratched out an existence together, grown into each other's company and learned to live in harmony in a world that they slowly and surely made their own. But fate had a grander destiny in mind for them. Ofimil had stood in awe of the Emperor and when he called himself her father, examined her work, questioned her sister in such detail about her origin it was the happiest day of her life, at long last someone was paying her the attention she deserved and he knew so many things and he thought she was a 'Masterpiece' and promised so many great adventures and his curiosity about her friends and her world seemed insatiable!
The joy did not last long, firstly they had to leave their home, Ofimil had not quite understood that at first but as she watched the world go smaller through the viewport she slowly realized that she would never set eyes upon it again and her old life was gone forever, she had found herself crying whilst Imil stood there not even trying to hide her own happiness at escape at last.
Things grew worse from there, again it was Imil's fault. If they could just go 'Crusading' like their father wanted then they would see the Galaxy and have adventures together and Ofimil was certain she would feel so much happier, but her sister had no interest in anything but lazing about doing nothing except smoke and drink and…other things. And despite doing nothing she always claimed to be too busy for Ofimil who was left to her own devices.
As the years went by Ofimil learned how to bait her sister, to lead expeditions to the most dangerous places, to send secret messages to the Emperor to inform him of his Primarch's dereliction of duties, to conduct loud and often disruptive experiments in her labs and to take any and every opportunity to escape the confines of the Solace. On rare occasions the sisters could still find comfort and joy in one another, their bond was beyond any conscious choice of their own, but most of the time Ofimil would settle for being the bane of her sister's existence.
Whilst her sister lead a haunted existence amongst the ruins Ofimil delighted in them, scouring them for parts, repairing ancient machinery, speaking to the remaining thinking machines, breaking and mending and undertaking an unending quest for adventure, discovery and excitement. The ghosts of that world were her friends, her family even and she felt safe in their presence, a presence she could feel on a level beyond any ordinary sense, she had an almost magical affinity for all things mechanical or databorn, she saw the world in a way her sister never could and this led to frequent arguments between them. Imil's stupid insistence on hiding and endless warnings put a great strain on the sisters' relationship, yet they would sooner or later end up curled up together in some spire or subbasement and their quarrels would pass like stormclouds.
Maybe in time they could have scratched out an existence together, grown into each other's company and learned to live in harmony in a world that they slowly and surely made their own. But fate had a grander destiny in mind for them. Ofimil had stood in awe of the Emperor and when he called himself her father, examined her work, questioned her sister in such detail about her origin it was the happiest day of her life, at long last someone was paying her the attention she deserved and he knew so many things and he thought she was a 'Masterpiece' and promised so many great adventures and his curiosity about her friends and her world seemed insatiable!
The joy did not last long, firstly they had to leave their home, Ofimil had not quite understood that at first but as she watched the world go smaller through the viewport she slowly realized that she would never set eyes upon it again and her old life was gone forever, she had found herself crying whilst Imil stood there not even trying to hide her own happiness at escape at last.
Things grew worse from there, again it was Imil's fault. If they could just go 'Crusading' like their father wanted then they would see the Galaxy and have adventures together and Ofimil was certain she would feel so much happier, but her sister had no interest in anything but lazing about doing nothing except smoke and drink and…other things. And despite doing nothing she always claimed to be too busy for Ofimil who was left to her own devices.
As the years went by Ofimil learned how to bait her sister, to lead expeditions to the most dangerous places, to send secret messages to the Emperor to inform him of his Primarch's dereliction of duties, to conduct loud and often disruptive experiments in her labs and to take any and every opportunity to escape the confines of the Solace. On rare occasions the sisters could still find comfort and joy in one another, their bond was beyond any conscious choice of their own, but most of the time Ofimil would settle for being the bane of her sister's existence.
| Vices | Virtues |
| Rash | Friendly |
| Curious | Benevolent |
| Perks | ||
| Skilled | 100 | |
| Inspired | 300 | |
| Explorer | 200 | |
| Blessed | 500 | |
| Greater Adaption | 400 |
| Flaws | ||
| Tampered | -400 | |
| Misunderstood | -300 | |
| Cursed | -500 |
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