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The History and Legacy of Dorn's Betrayal


Aurelius Rex

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Thanks for everyone's patience - it has been a while since Ferrata's excellent White Scars IA advanced things on the board, but things have been stealthily advancing in the background. So it is time for a couple of announcements:

 

Announcement One - Legio Imprints - the official B&C e-zine

The first thing is that the first half of the Dornian Heresy (the overview, the six IA's published here and three new ones for the SW, TS and BA) will be issued as the premier installment of the B&C's official e-zine, the Legio Imprint. As said before, we have a number of very talented people providing the original artwork - more on this later - and what they continue to produce really brings the Dornian Heresy universe to life. :tu:

 

Announcement Two - Index Astartes: Iron Warriors to be posted on Valentine's Day

This is going to take a while longer, but to keep you going the one month countdown starts today to the release of the Iron Warriors IA article. It is still taking shape at the moment, but I pledge that by February 14th, 2010, Valentine's Day will bring the story of Perturabo's legion to this very thread. :D

 

Now if you will excuse me, I have a 'Homeworld' section to draft, then tear up and draft again! :lol:

 

Regards,

Aurelius.

:P , that sounds cool. do you need any other help with the articles, Rex, like formatting them, because I would be willing to help.

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Announcement One - Legio Imprints - the official B&C e-zine

The first thing is that the first half of the Dornian Heresy (the overview, the six IA's published here and three new ones for the SW, TS and BA) will be issued as the premier installment of the B&C's official e-zine, the Legio Imprint. As said before, we have a number of very talented people providing the original artwork - more on this later - and what they continue to produce really brings the Dornian Heresy universe to life. :huh:

[bRegards,

Aurelius.

What is this 'Legio Imprint'? I did a search and I didn't come up with anything useful.

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Shhh! It is the first mention of it... It is the B&C's upcoming official e-zine, and the first half of the Dornian Heresy is going to be the premier issue.

 

We are still working on the details at the moment, hitting the publishing software with a metaphorical lump hammer and getting original artwork together. Don't worry, though - when it arrives you won't be able to miss it. :huh:

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...Iron Warrior? Aw crap. ;)

 

Perturabo is the logical choice, given the rivalry.

 

Off topic.....

 

Inquisitor cell: 207031

 

Inqisitor Vail: Answer the question

 

Heratic: "Iron Within, Iron Without.."

 

Inqisitor Vail: "I hardly see what the differance between Shedded Wheat and Coco Pops has to do with it!"

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  • 2 weeks later...

One week until Iron Warriors, you say?

Fair enough. Hopefully the Night Lords turn up soon - unannounced, too. It'd be in keeping with their character. ;)

 

You know, the more I read about this, the more I can't wait for the Black Templars and Black Legion IAs, or whatever names they'll get. :P

I suspect them to be the apex good guys and bad guys, and can't wait to see how they develop in detail.

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Yes, the drafting process is nearly complete, with only the extensive proof-reading and feedback process remaining, and so, barring a meteor strike or a dose of swine flu, the Iron Warriors IA will be posted up here next Sunday. :)
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Yes, the drafting process is nearly complete, with only the extensive proof-reading and feedback process remaining, and so, barring a meteor strike or a dose of swine flu, the Iron Warriors IA will be posted up here next Sunday. :)

So basically people are getting a choice between valentines or Dornian Heresy...easy choice :lol:

I await eagerly.

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The 14th February is just over an hour old by my watch, and so as promised, here is the latest article in the Dornian Heresy series - Perturabo's Iron Warriors. Many thanks to Ferrata, Sigismund Himself and Ferrus Manus for the excellent feedback on a ridiculously tight timescale - I can't say enough nice things about these guys.

 

@AGPO - Now that this article is done I will have time to check up on the progress of the Legio Imprint and the hidden three articles, so in short, nothing to report at the moment.

 

 

+++

 

Index Astartes: Iron Warriors

 

The Alternate Heresy

 

Armoured with a suspicion borne of bitter experience, the Iron Warriors have often been labelled paranoid, but as the events of the Dornian Heresy proved, not even brother Astartes can be trusted implicitly. As consummate siege-masters, they were instrumental in the success of the Great Crusade, and after the Betrayal they refortified the Imperium to withstand assaults from within as well as without. While other legions place their trust in dangerous psychic powers or the superstition of blind faith, the Iron Warriors depend instead upon thick walls, overwhelming firepower and meticulous planning to ensure victory.

 

Origins

T
he Emperor created the primarchs to be paragons of humanity that would lead His armies of conquest, and sensing the threat they posed, the Chaos Gods scattered the infants throughout the galaxy. It is a testament to their Emperor-given abilities and strength of will that, in most cases, they rose to positions of power within their respective societies. In his Speculum Historiale, Carpinus famously proposed that the character of each of the primarchs had been shaped by the cultures in which they were raised, with special mention made of Perturabo and the world of his youth. Olympia was a world divided into mountainous city-states, with open conflict held in check by the heavy fortifications and strong defences that had been honed over the centuries. By the time The Emperor reached Olympia, Perturabo had risen to command the armies of Lochos, one of the city-states. His innate skills allowed him to not only mastermind the successful invasion of several of the neighbouring city-states, breaking hundreds of years of stalemate, but also to confound the pre-emptive strikes from those who feared they would be next.

 

Perturabo was a genius in the arts of siege-craft, but when it came to matters of human interaction, he was cold and detached. All through his youth he had been plagued by loneliness and haunted by the mystery of his own origins. This disconnection was not evident when he was first reunited with his true father, The Emperor. Instantly recognising the bond between them, and finally able to discover the reason for his existence, Perturabo greeted Him with a warmth he had not realised was possible. As they talked, Perturabo came to see his father’s Great Crusade as more than just an exercise in toppling the defences of worlds that opposed them, but as a means of bringing rationalism and enlightenment to a galaxy mired in superstition. As the first step, The Emperor gifted him the Fourth Legion of Adeptus Astartes, and bade him unify Olympia under his command. The former rulers of the city-states were outraged to find themselves reduced to the status of vassals, but under the circumstances they were powerless to prevent it.

 

Perturabo remoulded the Iron Warriors to his own ideals, but in speaking with his techmarines, it became apparent that there was still much for him to learn. While his legion prepared, Perturabo undertook a journey to the tech-adepts of Mars that, for less of a rationalist, might have been called a pilgrimage. He amazed the magos with his powers of analytical reason, and absorbed the accumulated wisdom of the red planet at an astonishing rate. Mars became almost a second home to Perturabo, but eventually the time came for him to apply all he had learned in the Great Crusade.

 

The Great Crusade

P
erturabo had trained his legion well, and the Iron Warriors’ abilities in combat engineering and siege warfare made them highly effective at bringing worlds into the burgeoning Imperium. Seemingly without effort they were able to determine the most efficient route to circumvent enemy defences and bring their bastions crashing down. While the Iron Warriors became essential to the continued momentum of the Great Crusade, their reserved demeanour meant that all-too frequently the credit for their efforts was claimed by other. Perturabo had little need for glory, but he recognised the damaging effect this was having on the morale and effectiveness of his battle-brothers, who did not share his level of clinical detachment.

 

This frustration may have played a part in turning the rivalry between the Iron Warriors and Rogal Dorn’s Imperial Fists from professional disagreements over siege methodology to outright loathing. The campaign on the planet of Schravann had been so hard fought that four primarchs were present by its conclusion. At the banquet held to celebrate victory, Horus Lupercal of the Luna Wolves warmly praised the Iron Warriors for their achievements, which included the destruction of the final enemy citadel, and proclaimed Perturabo to be the finest exponent of siege warfare in the Imperium. Rogal Dorn, however, disagreed, and said that the Imperial Palace on Terra, which he had designed and his Imperial Fists guarded, was impregnable, and proof against any attack. Perturabo, with cold logic, pointed out that having studied the blueprints, he had found a number of vulnerabilities that a determined attacker could exploit, and further estimated that if the need arose his Iron Warriors could breach the walls within two months. At this, the hall exploded into uproar, as the Imperial Fists accused Perturabo of traitorous intent and of plotting to kill The Emperor. Amid accusation and insult, Perturabo’s genuine intention – to offer suggestions on how The Emperor’s security could be improved – was drowned out, and only the intervention of Horus and Fulgrim prevented the affair degenerating into bloodshed. Unsurprisingly, Schravann was the last planet on which these two legions fought as allies.

 

After many decades of success, the Great Crusade’s momentum began to falter. It had pushed out from Terra at such a rate that supply lines had become overstretched and vulnerable. Horus, one of the few primarchs that Perturabo could truly call a friend, asked for his advice concerning the problem which threatened to stall their progress. He concluded that important strategic worlds were falling prey to raiders, or even trying to secede from the Imperium, and that the forces assigned to guard them were unequal to the task. When Horus asked Perturabo for his opinion on the best way to solve these problems, the recommendation was that these strategic worlds be garrisoned by Astartes, and knowing that his legion was by far the best suited for the position, he volunteered his Iron Warriors.

 

Horus suppressed the smile until his brother had left the room. If openly asked to bleed his legion’s strength away in garrisoning the Crusade’s flanks, Perturabo would rightly have refused, but a very wise man had once written that the best way to get someone to do something is to let them think it was their idea all along. Perturabo was so clinically logical that all he’d had to do was to present him with the bare facts – suitably arranged, of course – and ask him to impartially determine the most rational course of action... It had been almost too easy.
[/clearfloat]

While the logic of this was undeniable, it had a disastrous effect on legion’s the morale. They became warriors without a war, isolated and spread out thinly across the galaxy in numbers sometimes as small as a single squad. With supply lines secured, the expeditions moved ever further from Terra, which in turn necessitated the creation of ever more garrisons. The number of Iron Warriors remaining on the front lines dwindled to the point where they were unable to operate efficiently on their own, and became increasingly reliant upon others to carry out their battle plans.

 

This came to the fore at Ullanor, where Horus was named Warmaster of the Great Crusade in The Emperor’s stead. This honour was due in part to the unprecedented tally of worlds brought into compliance by the Sons of Horus, a number that would not have been nearly as high had it not been for the sacrifice and support of the Iron Warriors. With a brittle calm that belied the tension beneath, Perturabo discussed this with the Warmaster. Using irrefutable logic, he explained that the garrisoned worlds had been stabilised to the point where his legion’s skills were being wasted. He continued to push, noting the increased resistance being encountered by the expeditions, and that in his opinion his legion was the best suited to bolster the offensive. In the face of Perturabo’s clinical assessment of the situation, Horus relented, and sensing that their hunger for battle could be used for the good of the Great Crusade, he reassigned nearly half of the garrisons to the stewardship of the Imperial Fists.

 

Liberated from the stifling confines of endless garrison duty, the Iron Warriors returned to the front lines with an uncharacteristic enthusiasm. They set out to prove their worth so comprehensively that the Warmaster would have no choice but to release the other half of their legion. From the cleansing of the Hrud warrens on Gugann, which had resisted Imperial forces for decades, to the toppling of the living crystal fortresses of the Khugee, it seemed as though nothing could stand before their implacable advance. Even the disastrous news that the Ultramarines were poised to secede from the Imperium was taken as a chance to prove their worth. Loathe as he was to place his legion under the command of Rogal Dorn, who was to lead the assault, Perturabo pledged the Iron Warriors to the task of bringing Guilliman to heel at Istvaan.

 

The astropathic message he received in response was as curt as it was cryptic. It simply said “A legion that cannot even hold its homeworld has no place facing other Astartes.” Urgent communications with Olympia did indeed reveal that rioting had broken out all across the planet. Angry mobs roamed freely through the streets, attacking Imperial buildings and calling for the return of independence. It appeared that the former rulers of the city-states had moved from embittered resentfulness to open revolt in their attempts to reclaim power. In the confusion no-one thought to ask how Dorn had known of the riots so quickly, and by the time they did, the Heresy had already claimed three loyal legions.

 

The Dornian Heresy

W
ith their homeworld in rebellion, Perturabo ordered the Iron Warriors to return to Olympia with all haste. While in transit, news reached them from Warmaster Horus of Dorn’s betrayal at Istvaan, and of the daemonic forces that stood ready to plunge the Imperium into civil war. Though Perturabo was initially dismissive about the existence of such creatures of nightmare, it seemed that their distrust and dislike of Dorn had been well founded. Only much later, long after the slaughter of the Heresy and the Iron Cage worlds, did the full extent of Dorn’s plans come to light. Istvaan had been designed as a trap to crush the legions Dorn had been unable to convert to the path of the Ruinous Powers. Rather than running the risk of the Iron Warriors seeing Istvaan for the ambush it was, Dorn’s agents had instead fomented an uprising on Olympia to draw them far out of position for the coming war. Thankfully, they had underestimated the strength of the recently reinforced Olympian garrison, which was able to rapidly re-impose order and started rooting out the Chaos demagogues and their misguided followers. Confident in the knowledge that his homeworld was secure, Perturabo redirected the fleet towards the planet he was certain would be Dorn’s ultimate destination – Terra.

 

While they had previously been resentful of their garrison worlds, on their journey it became obvious how effective they were at maintaining order, and of the vital role they played in keeping open the loyalists’ supply lines. Much less welcome were the garrisons they had only recently vacated in favour of the Imperial Fists, which were performing much the same task for the traitor’s cause. There was no time to raze them, but Perturabo vowed to his legion that they would return to reclaim them as soon as Dorn’s insurrection had been crushed. Above all things, they must reach Terra and save The Emperor, as to lose Him would be to lose everything.

 

This mantra was hardest to bear when they heard the pleas from their allies on Mars. They were under attack not just from their Chaos-infected brethren and the fallen Titan Legions, but also by the Astartes of the Iron Hands, who it was said were preparing to unleash some terrible weapon from the depths of the Noctis Labyrinthus. Perturabo yearned to go to Mars, but with the Sons of Horus standing ready to make planet-fall on Terra, they had no choice. Desperate entreaties from the Mechanicus quickly turned to bitter, angry threats, and the ultimatum that if they did not come immediately, they ‘would be as if dead’ to the Adeptus Mechanicus for all eternity. All manner of poisonous accusations were made, calling the Iron Warriors oath-breakers and worse, so that the fleet had long-since blocked their frequencies by the time global transmissions from the red planet fell ominously silent.

 

Warfare raged across the length and breadth of Terra, but the Iron Warriors were drawn inexorably to the Imperial Palace. It was Dorn’s self-proclaimed masterwork of defensive engineering, the trigger for the feud that dated back to Schravann. Now it would be their pleasure to tear it down brick by brick. The Warmaster had tasked them only with bottling up the traitors inside, which would slow down their progress to gain entry to The Emperor’s throne room. The longer their attention was diverted from His real location, the more time the Master of Mankind would have to bring His plans to fruition. Perturabo, however, was not content simply to bombard the palace from afar. He wanted to break the walls and prove to Dorn once and for all the superiority of his legion’s siege-craft.

 

The Iron Warriors tested the palace’s defences and defenders with vigour, gaining valuable insights about the weakness of the design, but losing many battle-brothers in the process. Seeing this, Horus told him to pull back, that these brethren would be needed later. Even Konrad Curze, half a world away, contacted Perturabo and begged him to withdraw. The Iron Warriors, however, had not turned their backs on liberating the garrison worlds and on their friends in the Mechanicus only to walk away from confronting their most hated enemy and the chance of ending Dorn’s Heresy once and for all.

 

Let the Word Bearers have their hollow chants and litanies of faith, Perturabo thought. To him, there was no finer choir than the full-throated roar of his mighty siege guns. The subtle flaw he had detected in the great gate was becoming more pronounced with every impact – one more volley would be sufficient. Around him, his legion stood ready, each battle-brother knowing their role in the imminent breaching assault. As the artillery reloaded and prepared to fire again, Perturabo reflected upon the urgent, almost incoherent vox message he had received from Curze not ten minutes before. All the talk of dire prophesies and visions, warning of his death if he proceeded with the attack - not at the hands of Dorn, but by Sanguinius - sounded at best laughable, and at the worst a sign of Chaos warp-craft. The Imperial Palace was Dorn’s masterpiece, and if it was about to be breached, he would undoubtedly be there.

 

The massive siege guns fired again, and the Ultimate Gate fractured along the fault with an almighty crack, and a stench of putrescent death. He led his legion at a sprint towards the breach, ignoring the stuttering gunfire from the battlements high above. Ahead, a hot, foetid wind parted the smoke and dust that had obscured the gate to reveal Sanguinius, decaying and yet filled with a terrible infernal power. In one gut-wrenching instant it dawned on Perturabo that Curze’s prediction might be true. He could have withdrawn there and then. He could have lived to fight another day, but he would have died inside. That was not the man he was, or would ever be.

 

Cursing the Night Lord for planting that nagging seed of self-doubt in his mind, Perturabo roared his defiance and charged at the rotting beast that had once been his brother.

On the fifty-fifth day of the siege, the Iron Warriors forced a breach in Dorn’s supposedly unbreakable palace, and in doing so proved their superiority to the Imperial Fists in siege warfare. However, their attack was repulsed, though not by Rogal Dorn, but by Sanguinius and his Blood Angels. By the end of the battle hundreds of their brothers lay dead in the rubble, yet none broke their cold hearts as surely as the sight of the shattered body of Perturabo. Devastated by the senseless loss of their primarch, the Iron Warriors regrouped for yet another assault upon the Ultimate Gate. Ignoring even the orders of Warmaster Horus, they seemed intent on joining Perturabo in death, and only through the personal intervention of The Emperor Himself were the Iron Warriors brought back to their senses. With great reluctance they withdrew to fortify the new centre of Imperial resistance – the Astronomicon.

 

These bulwarks became vital when the traitors breached the walls of the throne room and realised that they had been deceived. The Iron Warriors proved to be as valiant in defence as in attack, and their efforts were pivotal not just at keeping the Traitor Legions at bay, but for inflicting horrendous losses upon them in the process. Their technical knowledge was also invaluable in reconfiguring the Astronomicon, first to weaken the daemonic legions across Terra, and later, after the conclusion of the Heresy, to sustain the critically wounded Emperor in both body and spirit.

 

The Iron Cage Worlds

A
lthough Dorn was dead and his minions in full retreat from Terra, the Chaos Legions were far from a spent force. Brutal internecine struggles still raged across the Imperium, and the fleeing Traitor Astartes did all they could to fan the flames of war as they passed. On some worlds they paused for longer, creating festering centres of corruption with which to bring down surrounding planets. Worst of all were the worlds firmly garrisoned by the Imperial Fists. Their presence, and effect for the Traitor cause, had been a heavy burden to bear, and so before the embers had even cooled on Terra, the legion set off to fulfil Perturabo’s pledge to reclaim them.

 

Their quest was given fresh urgency by the taunting transmissions from these worlds. They told of populations being worked to death as slaves and sacrificed to the Dark Gods to turn each planet into a fortress. The Legion Master’s decision to have each Grand Company simultaneously attack a different world to prevent them from finishing their fortifications was initially welcomed as a bold stroke worthy of Perturabo. In truth, it was simply the action of a man driven by grief, and unable to match the skill and judgement of his late primarch. Each Grand Company had links with a different world, and the arguments over which should be liberated first had threatened to tear the legion apart. They arrived to discover that they had been misled, and that the fortifications were already complete. Mourning for their lost primarch had erased all trace of their normal analytical detachment, and so across a dozen worlds the already depleted Grand Companies walked willingly into the traps that had been set for them.

 

In what became known as the Iron Cage Campaign, the Iron Warriors found themselves embroiled in bloody stalemates. They had insufficient forces to decisively break the enemy’s interlocking Chaos-enhanced fortifications, and too much pride to withdraw from the field. Time after time they stormed bastions, only to find the enemy had already withdrawn, and that the place they had died to claim had been turned into the next killing ground. While they bore their losses stoically, the frustration at never truly getting to grips with the enemy ate away at them. They were haunted by memories of the siege of the Imperial Palace, where they had broken through at great cost only to find their most hated enemy nowhere to be found.

 

As the Iron Cage closed ever-tighter, the same story was being played out across each planet. By a process of grinding attrition the Iron Warriors were being driven to the point of extinction. When barely a quarter of their number remained battle-ready, the Traitor Astartes finally went on the offensive. Recognising their imminent destruction, yet welcoming the chance to finally meet their enemy face to face, only the timely intervention of Abaddon leading a coalition of loyal Astartes prevented their annihilation and broke the Iron Cage.

 

Having resigned himself to his fate, Kruger was surprised to feel the weight of the traitor lift from his chest. Blinking the blood from his eyes, he dimly made out the brutalised corpse of the Imperial Fist being hauled up and thrown effortlessly to one side. Despite the repainted black Terminator armour, Kruger could not fail to recognise his saviour. With a grateful nod, he took Abaddon’s proffered hand, and rose unsteadily to his feet. Stunned, speechless, he looked out over the battlefield and saw Astartes bearing the liveries of the Death Guard, Thousand Sons, Night Lords, Word Bearers and Abaddon’s renamed Black Templars falling upon the now embattled Imperial Fists and putting them to the sword.

 

“Apologies for our intervention in your warzone, Warsmith Kruger,” came the bass growl, “but the Iron Warriors’ skills are required upon Terra. We have an empire to rebuild.”

 

Refortifying the Imperium

W
ith the galaxy ravaged by the devastation of the Dornian Heresy, the Iron Warriors were tasked with refortifying first Terra, and then the wider Imperium. They extended and rebuilt the fortifications around the Astronomicon, transforming it into an armoured city far more imposing than the old Imperial Palace. Having seen how effective the garrison worlds had been in imposing order, the legion returned once more to that format. Worlds of strategic importance were chosen, including those guarding the main routes through the Imperium, centres of industrial production, and in particular the Praeses fortress-worlds which stand sentinel around the Eye of Terror.

 

Bereft of support from the Adeptus Mechanicus, they instead drew tithes from the garrison worlds. This took the form of raw materials, war production, and to help cement the relationship with the planets they were defending, recruits. To ensure the mistake of the Great Crusade was not repeated, where they rapidly found themselves overstretched and isolated, they expanded far above their pre-Heresy levels. This was augmented further still with the addition of vast numbers of weapon servitors, war machines and other, more specialised engines of destruction. This allowed them to be pro-active in defence and strike out at enemies before they got an opportunity to attack. Another factor that drove their expansion was that while they appreciated Abaddon’s intervention in breaking the Iron Cage, the thought of being beholden in such a way, even to a close ally, now went against their nature.

 

Their distrust is not restricted to their brother Astartes. Such is their disdain of the accuracy of ordnance laid down by the Imperial Army and Navy, and the losses they sustained due to their incompetence, that the creation of their own force of heavy artillery became a high priority. Similarly, the chilly relationship with the Adepts of Mars refused to thaw after the Heresy, and if anything grew frostier as the Mechanicus slipped into superstition. To fill the gap, the Iron Warriors built war machines along similar patterns to the massive Ordinati, towering Knight class walkers and even, it is rumoured, Titans. The Adepts of Mars complained bitterly of this, claiming that such things must have been looted, but the Iron Warriors defiantly maintain that they are solely the results of their own ingenuity. While the legion has certainly been observed to recover damaged Mechanicus assets from the battlefield, such items are always scrupulously delivered back to their forge world of origin.

 

Before the heavy transport had even settled, the brother-lieutenant was out of his command chair and prowling through the lower cargo deck. At his command, row upon row of mobile weapons platforms chirruped inside their transit bays as their controlling gun-servitors awoke. He stalked purposely down towards the rear bay doors until something caught his eye; the designator tattoo on the paper-dry skin of a servitor. The first few characters - JZ03 – were the same as those on his arm... they had both come from the same garrison world. The legion made great play of how recruiting from those worlds forged an unbreakable bond, but the dirty truth was that unless you were Olympian-born, your fate was to serve as one of these dead-eyed servitors. He had been the exception, of course. Through sheer ability, determination and guile he had risen through the ranks, but even that didn’t stop the distrust and disrespect so casually cast his way. As if on cue, the command-link crackled into life.

 

“Half breed - what’s the hold-up? Get these damn doors open!” came the familiar barracking tone of Fennix, his ‘superior’ officer. He bit back his acid reply, mentally filed away the insult for later retribution and signalled the cargo doors to open. From the auspex scans the Traitor gene-seed facility seemed surprisingly heavily protected, boasting armoured battalions, infantry and even the characteristic void-returns of Titans! The coming battle was going to be bloody and brutal. Good, thought Lieutenant Honsou. It was just the way he liked it.

Of all the Traitor Astartes to plague the Imperium, it is those of the former Imperial Fists that draw the majority of the legion’s attention. Whether they call themselves Black Legion, Scions of Dorn or Crimson Fists, the Iron Warriors take every opportunity to engage them. The elusive nature of the Blood Angels has meant that prospects of bring them conclusively to battle have been all-too rare. The exception to this was on Mackan in late M37, when they drew the plague legion into a trap that resulted in the slaughter of the better part of two Great Companies, and afforded the Iron Warriors a measure of vengeance for the death of their primarch.

 

This focus on the Chaos Legions, especially around the Eye of Terror, has come at the expense of the border with Guilliman’s Ultramar Segmentum. For all the legion’s size and power, even they cannot effectively garrison its entire length. Worlds under their aegis resist this implacable advance far better than those around them, which has resulted in small, embattled enclaves of the Imperium deep inside Ultramar space.

 

Organisation

A
fter the horrors of the Iron Cage Worlds, and the shame of being saved by Abaddon’s Massed Crusades, the Iron Warriors resolved never to find themselves in such a position again. To that end they aggressively recruited, so that their Grand Companies contain far beyond the thousand front-line Astartes they had before the Heresy. Most warsmiths are now able to command at least five thousand battle-brothers, and twenty times that number of servitors. The foundation of each Grand Company is its armoury, and the quality and quantity of its output is a source of great pride. Rather than being a separate department, the Apothecarion is subservient to the Master of the Forge, and is responsible as much for creating and maintaining the legion’s army of servitors as for ministering to their Astartes brethren.

 

Legion Master of the Iron Warriors
After Perturabo’s death, the mantle of Legion Master was taken up by the Warsmith of the First Grand Company. Sadly, his tactical acumen fell far short of that required, and he plunged them headlong into the meat-grinders of the Iron Cage Worlds. He died, along with many hundreds of his brothers, in the frozen hell of High Parsanea, and for his shortcomings his name has been struck from history. Since that time, ultimate power has resided with the Council of Warsmiths, and while the leader of the First Grand Company still bears the title of Legion Master, beyond speaking for the Iron Warriors before to the High Lords of Terra, the role is largely ceremonial.
Their innate suspicion frequently sparks rivalries within the legion, and competition between lieutenants is positively encouraged by warsmiths, the better to spur them on to greater efforts, and is only reined in when it threatens to become destructive to the legion. Each lieutenant commands hundreds of marines, squadrons of armoured vehicles and enough artillery pieces to level whole cities. Periodically these battle-hardened veterans are withdrawn from the front lines to garrison duties, where they are able to refit, repair and replenish their ranks. The task of protecting their garrison worlds is a vital one, as the tithes they bring in are integral to the continued growth of the Iron Warriors. To lose a garrison world is a terrible source of shame, one which a warsmith will go to great lengths to rectify.

 

The death of a warsmith, especially if he has not named a clear successor, is a time of great turmoil as ambition and bitter rivalries come to the fore. On rare occasions the power-struggle is so extreme that the only recourse is to request permission from the Council of Warsmiths to divide the forces and create a new Grand Company. This has seen the number of Grand Companies rise beyond their original twelve, although such events are not taken lightly. Most potential Warsmiths calculate that is preferable to wait for the tides of battle and mortality to elevate them to command of a full strength Grand Company than hastily snatch the reins of a weakened one with the corresponding vulnerability that would bring.

 

Combat Doctrine

T
o the uninitiated outsider, the Iron Warriors simply deploy overwhelming firepower to pound their foes into submission, before assaulting the survivors. In truth, their approach is far more analytical, subtle and above all, effective. They retain Perturabo’s keen intellect, and see the defeat of the enemy as a puzzle to be cracked. In defence they make great use of fixed positions, bunkers and heavy gun emplacements so that even a small number of Iron Warriors can effectively defend a large area from attack. Every aspect is optimised to give clear lines of sight and interlocking fields of fire. Terrain, obstacles and minefields funnel the enemy almost subliminally into optimal killing zones, and the extensive use of high-functioning weapon servitors frees the Astartes themselves to act as a reserve force able to respond to the unexpected, and for their inevitable counter-strike. They are also able to rapidly assess a situation and react accordingly. The most famous example was when the infantry of the Third Grand Company transformed the shattered outskirts the Fortunis hive city into a killing ground within hours of arrival. This stalled the greenskin assault long enough for the Iron Warriors to deploy the full might of their arsenal down from orbit and defeat the horde once and for all.

 

On the attack, they take the same clinical approach. Powerful scans, rolling bombardments and infiltrating feints probe the enemy’s strengths and weaknesses, and inform their strategy. Each Grand Company uses a different approach, based upon the guiding philosophy of their warsmith and the equipment in their armoury. Most follow the traditional route of a massed armoured blitzkrieg of Vindicators and Fellblades, backed up with mechanised infantry in Land Raiders. The Eighth and Thirtieth Grand Companies, however, prefer to circumvent the enemy’s defences entirely; utilising extensive teleporter arrays or tunnelling vehicles respectively to strike at the very heart of the stronghold. Others use even more exotic equipment, such as the massive Ordinati of the Sixth, Ninth and Sixteenth Grand Companies and the mighty Knight walkers of the Twentieth that dwarf even dreadnoughts. Before the Heresy, the Iron Warriors worked closely with the forces of Mars, with the Scriptorum Maxis on Olympia mentioning many instances of Perturabo going to battle aboard the Corvus assault pod of a Warlord Titan. Rumours persist that the First Grand Company still has access to such things, although if they have ever been used, no enemy has ever witnessed it and lived to tell the tale.

 

Homeworld

The Alexiares Spaceport
Designed by Perturabo after his first visit to Mars, but not completed until nearly two thousand years after his death, the Alexiares spaceport is one of the technological wonders of the Imperium. Sitting as it does in geosynchronous orbit over Mount Anticetus, Olympia’s tallest mountain, it is the primary conduit for materials entering and leaving the planet. By lowering adamantium cables through the atmosphere until they reached the base station at the mountain’s summit, they created elevators able to move bulk goods from orbit to the surface and back in an incredibly efficient manner. Once enclosed and pressurised, the spaceport became in effect the tallest building in the Imperium, boasting a capacity and efficiency far outstripping transport by orbital shuttles. Given its iconic status, its vital industrial role, and the damage caused across Mars when the Uranius Patera orbital elevators were destroyed during the Heresy, the greatest of care is taken to protect this structure from attack.
U
nder the rule of the Iron Warriors, adamantium and ceramite joined quarried stone to transform Olympia into a fortress-world of unprecedented proportions. The original city-states have become towering armoured hives dedicated to the support of the legion. Crowned with void shields and defence lasers, their summits reach high above the clouds. Competition between hive cities to provide arms, vehicles and recruits for the Astartes is intense, and not always friendly. Since the uprising at the start of the Dornian Heresy, the population has been subject to strict controls. Anything that might disrupt the smooth running of the planet is ruthlessly suppressed, be it misguided subversives, agents of the Ruinous Powers or the excessive rivalry of competing hives.

 

Olympia is at the centre of a web of production that stretches clear across the Imperium, with an output to rival some of the larger forge worlds. Tithes of raw materials flow in from the garrison worlds, and in return, finely crafted weapons of war pass back to supply the Iron Warriors in their campaigns. To this end, Olympia is encircled with orbiting shipyards, solar collectors, space-docks and defence platforms. The fortified nature of Olympia extends far beyond this, though, with fleets of warships, minefields and early warning systems standing ready to challenge any unauthorised visitor.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Beliefs

T
he legion is methodical and coldly logical in its approach, and is certain that any problem or obstacle will yield to them in time. The worst tragedies in their history, such as the battle at the Ultimate Gate or the Iron Cage Campaign have occurred when they have embraced passion over reason. Bitter experience has left them mistrustful of others, and in response they have striven to armour themselves against any chance of further betrayal. They remain steadfastly loyal to The Emperor, greatly respecting the rational, secular galaxy He had tried to build, and so have little time for the deification espoused by the Word Bearers. Similarly, such esoteric practices as the use of psychic powers are treated with deep distrust. Though they grudgingly accept the vital role that astropaths and navigators play in the day-to-day running of the Imperium, the study of such things is seen as an unsuitable vocation for an Iron Warrior. In the absence of psychically talented brother-librarians to combat the wiles of the daemonic and the witch, the Iron Warriors have instead applied their technological skills to the task. For the Grand Companies standing sentinel around the Eye of Terror, the null fields and weaponry from the forges of Olympia are prized above even a plentiful supply of ammunition. These devices are seen as yet another kind of fortress, one which protects them against the insidious denizens and whispered madness of the Warp.

 

Gene-seed

A
s well as Perturabo’s cold, analytical logic, traits such as suspicion and even paranoia have been passed onto his marines. Initially the gene-seed of the Iron Warriors was a model of efficiency, but over the millennia a slow but steady deterioration has occurred in some of their implants. Although the Occulobe, Larraman’s Organ and Omophagea perform well in new initiates, over time they lose their effectiveness. These deficiencies have been addressed where possible by the use of augmetics, so that it is common for veteran Iron Warriors to be fitted with bionic eyes, and to rely heavily upon information from their armour’s auto-senses.

 

An implant which has shown no sign of degradation over the millennia is the Catalepsean Node, which allows the brain to stay alert for long periods and reduces the need for sleep. Given their extensive duties as garrison troops this is a vital survival trait, as an Iron Warrior without a finely honed ability to stay alert to the approach of enemies would not live long enough to pass on his gene-seed to the next generation.

 

Chief Apothecary Ansul left the office of the Master of Forges barely able to mask his rage. First to be admonished for not reaching the target for new initiates handed down by the warsmith, and then to be rebuked for the ever-increasing levels of gene-seed instability! The man knew the reason for the degradations as well as he. Time and again over the millennia the Apothecaria had been forced to loosen the checks on gene-seed purity to meet the demands of recruiting. His protests had been given short shrift, and his plea to implement more stringent gene-seed checks had been denied. Even his warnings about the effect of the Grand Company’s current proximity to the Eye of Terror had been waved aside as though it was of little consequence.

 

For the last ten thousand years they had been complicit in polluting the Perturabo gene-line. Ansul had wanted to grab the man and shake the complacency out of him, but knew that to lay a hand on his master would result in his death. He thought of the many times he had treated that arrogant fool on the field of battle, saving his life on countless occasions, and realised that perhaps there was another way to deal with the problem...

[clearfloat]

 

Battle Cry

T
heir favoured battle cry is "Iron Within, Iron Without”, symbolising their rigid, unbending will, and the thick armour with which they surround themselves.
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Brilliant.

 

I like the part where Horus tricks Perturabo into garrising worlds.

What I also think is very good is that The Iron Warriors seem to have the same love for tech as the Real'verse Iron Hands but instead of having better relations with Mars they are indepented from them.

 

A great read and I can't wait for the next article.

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