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The History and Legacy of Dorn's Betrayal


Aurelius Rex

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This is my own take on the Alternate-Heresy. The genesis of the idea came from discussions two years ago, but I didn't come back to it properly until early this summer. Many thanks to the people that I discussed the idea with back then, specifically SCC, Rogue Trader and Commissar Molotov. :) The intention is to write an IA article for each of the Alt-legions, and to kick start this when I had a good five or six in the bag... I only have the Overview and the World Eater and Emperor's Children IA's, with the Ultramarine one ready in a week or so, but with all the interest in Alt-Heresies of late this seemed to be a time to post what I already have. :)

 

+++ EDIT (05/05/10): The first ten articles in the series have now been collected together, polished and given amazing original artwork to make up the first issue of the Legio Imprint - the B&C's official e-zine! Click this hyperlink for the download thread. This means that the overview and IA's on the World Eaters, Emperor's Children, Raven Guard, Word Bearers, Ultramarines, White Scars, Space Wolves, Thousand Sons and Blood Angels are in a downloadable and much more readable format. ;)

 

The plan is to include the second half of the Dornian Heresy articles in a future issue of the Legio Imprint - the Iron Warriors are in this thread, but the rest are still to be written / completed. +++

 

 

Aurelius.

 

+++++

 

 

The History and Legacy of Dorn's Betrayal

 

An Alternate Heresy

Prologue: Parallel Lines

E
laidanath was dying; poisoned and ravaged by the Death Guard.

 

It shouldn’t have been this way.

 

The Farseer had been there at her birth; seeding the ball of rock with life. He had watched the Maiden-World of Elaidanath mature over the millennia into a verdant paradise; a place of peace and unparalleled beauty. That was, until the arrival of the Death Guard.

 

He had foreseen the threat all-too late to avert it, with only a small group of his companions from the Em'brathar Craftworld arriving before the webway portals succumbed. Thus, trapped on the doomed planet, they had done what little they could against the Traitor Astartes, but it was clearly a lost cause. Animals lay bloated and glassy-eyed, awaiting the end; the once-great forests were reduced to endless swathes of slime-coated tree trunks. The only creatures to flourish were Nurgle’s favoured pets; the flies and maggots, but even that wouldn’t last. Elaidanath was rapidly returning to the lifeless rock it had once been. It was such a pointless waste.

 

With the eastern horizon lightening from black to a deep bruise-purple, Exarch D’Larha signalled for them to seek shelter during the daylight hours in nearby caves. Even before the warriors had declared the refuge safe, the Farseer had slumped down wearily in the entrance of the cave. He was tired, worn thin by his wounds, age, and the heartbreak of what he had witnessed. Within seconds, he had settled into a fitful, febrile sleep.

 

This fate was wrong. Not just that of his companions, or even of this world; the whole galaxy had taken a wrong turn, with The Ruinous Powers corrupting everything they touched. His thoughts went back, investigating what could have been… It shouldn’t be this way… It needn’t be this way… If only he could change things, find a different, better path…

 

Rather than detaching his consciousness to search the possible futures, he felt himself being pushed back; moving into the past. He traced the strands of history back further and further, feeling the alternate universes flowing together, with even the tiniest choice causing a division, innumerable streams joining and flowing into the sea of time. From his view outside of history, the mon-keigh’s Heresy was the greatest confluence; the place where a single choice could have changed the course of history so profoundly. He searched for a strand where the Death Guard and their ilk had never turned to Chaos; for a path where this wrong fate, both on this planet and in the wider galaxy, could be averted.

 

Before he could find his utopia, a dark presence slammed him back into the time-stream, forcing him down into a brutal and twisted alternate history…

 

 

Pre-Heresy - The Seeds of Destruction

I
n the closing years of the thirty-first millennium, the Emperor’s Great Crusade to reunite humanity under his banner was continuing apace. Vast expeditionary armies, spearheaded by his Primarch sons, surged out across the galaxy, bringing enlightenment and compliance wherever they went. The future seemed assured, and during a mighty celebration on Ullanor, The Emperor announced that he would return to Terra, and that Horus, Primarch of the Lunar Wolves would command the Great Crusade in His stead. Some say that this event was where the seeds of disaffection were planted amongst the Primarchs, with one of their number being so publicly elevated above the rest. In truth, the rot had started long before.

 

After the Ullanor Declaration, the cracks began to appear. Bitter disputes over the use of psychic powers came to a head at Nikaea, with legions vehemently split over their use. The Emperor's final ruling, and the special concessions he gave to the Thousand Sons, enraged Russ and his Space Wolves. They saw Nikaea as a terrible mistake, and secretly vowed to save The Emperor from himself.

 

On the feral world of Davin, Warmaster Horus was struck down by a mysterious contagion which baffled the finest of the Legion’s apothecaries. During his recovery, Horus attended an initiation ceremony of one of Davin’s primitive Warrior Lodges, after which the Warmaster’s condition dramatically worsened to critical. That a Primarch could succumb to any natural pathogen should have given a hint that what happened in the halls of the Knife of Bone involved the supernatural. It was in fact an act of possession by a powerful warp entity, although at the time the concept of the daemonic was widely regarded as errant superstition. Only with the aid of the psychic might of the blind Primarch of the Thousand Sons, and spiritual counselling from Chaplain Erebus of the Word Bearers, could the entity finally be cast out.

 

So, with the Warmaster having escaped their snare, the Ruinous Powers turned their attentions elsewhere…

 

The ordeal revealed to the Warmaster the true dangers of Chaos - a power so great that even he and his fellow Primarchs were not immune to its corrupting touch. Horus was severely weakened by the events of Davin, and out of position to deal with what was to come. First, Curze of the Night Lords attacked Rogal Dorn, before going on the run with his legion. Worse still, word came from the galactic east that Guilliman had declared independence from the Imperium, claiming dominion over a massive region of space that he called ‘Ultramar Segmentum’.

 

Even as the Imperial forces assembled to confront the Ultramarines, terrible news came from Prospero that the Space Wolves had fallen upon the homeworld of the Thousand Sons. They proclaimed that Magnus was mired in foul sorcery, and that they would save the Emperor from himself by ending the threat to the Imperium. With the dream of mankind coming apart at the seams, the legions came into high orbit around Istvaan V.

 

 

Betrayal at Istvaan

G
uilliman and the lion's share of his massive Ultramarines legion were identified as being present at his newest conquest, the fifth planet of the Istvaan system. This was set to be the place that the Imperium would crush the rebellious Primarch and his dreams of an independent domain.

 

With Horus still recovering after Davin, Rogal Dorn used his position as the Emperor’s Praetorian to take command of the forces congregating around Istvaan. The Ultramarines were by far the most numerous legion, in large part due to Guilliman’s organisational skills, and so a suitably overwhelming force was assembled in opposition. Dorn summoned the might of nearly half the Emperor’s legions to the task, although offers of forces from long-time rival, Perturabo of the Iron Warriors, were pointedly rebuffed.

 

Such was the size of the task of bringing the secessionist realm back to heel that two whole Legions were sent deep into Ultramar Segmentum. The Alpha Legion, never friends of the Ultramarines, were to infiltrate and undermine the rebel worlds, while the religious zealots of the Word Bearers used a more direct approach: bringing the light of The Emperor to the very core of Guilliman’s powerbase on the eastern fringe.

 

The first to join the Imperial Fist Fleet outside the Istvaan system were the Raven Guard and the increasingly insular and secretive marines of the Iron Hand Legion. These were closely followed by the Salamanders, led by their burned, bitter Primarch. Shortly after came the Emperor’s Children, fresh from extinguishing the xenos threat on the planet Laer. The events of that campaign had affected Fulgrim deeply, and on arrival he declared that his legion had achieved the pinnacle of The Emperor’s ‘Perfection’. The relish with which they embraced the chance to prove their superiority over other Astartes bordered on the unseemly.

 

Then, in precise, well-ordered formation, came Angron’s World Eaters. Long-gone was the savage gladiator mentality of Angron’s early years – his first meeting with The Emperor on the slopes of Fedan Mhor had seen him reject his former brutality as the impetuosity of youth. The final force to break from the warp was composed of vessels belonging to the Dark Angels, whose arrival came as a surprise to those assembled. Lion El'Jonson himself had sent word that they would not be able to return in time from their assignment among the Ghoul Stars. It was explained that the force had arrived directly from their homeworld of Caliban, and Luther, the Legion’s second in command, was welcomed into the burgeoning fleet.

 

On the eve of the battle, Dorn went down to the planet’s surface under flag of truce to speak to Guilliman. On his return, he gravely reported that no peaceful solution was possible, but that he had taken the opportunity to view the defences and had formulated a plan to crack them wide open. Knowing Dorn’s tactical expertise at siege warfare, no-one questioned the wisdom of this plan. The Imperial Fists, Dark Angels, Salamanders and Iron Hands made planet-fall first. Their stated intention was to draw an ever-tightening ring of steel around Guilliman, so that the Raven Guard, World Eaters and Emperor's Children would be able to sweep in from orbit and land the crushing blow.

 

What the Raven Guard, Emperor's Children and World Eaters found instead was a trap. Instead of the pressurised, demoralised opponents Dorn had predicted, they found the drop-zones to be heavily fortified killing grounds, well-garrisoned by the Ultramarines. The three legions took horrendous losses fighting their way to link up with their allies, only to be caught under the guns of their supposed brothers. In the greatest betrayal and military disaster the Legionnes Astartes had then faced, the Imperial Fists, Dark Angels, Iron Hands and Salamanders decimated the survivors of the planet-fall. It was only the timely intervention of the cruiser, Eisenstein, which had been commandeered by loyalists among the turncoat forces, which allowed even a small percentage of the ambushed legions to fight their way back into orbit, and escape.

 

When Horus had slipped from their clutches, The Ruinous Powers had moved to groom another for the role of Arch-Betrayer. True, they had been able to corrupt other Primarchs, but Rogal Dorn was chosen for his potential to bring the entire Imperium crashing down. They preyed upon and magnified his feelings of jealousy at being passed over as Warmaster, and then being withdrawn to Terra while his brothers were carving a reputation across the galaxy. Feeling revulsion at such thoughts, Dorn had sought to drown out these shameful doubts of his father’s judgement in the scourge of the Pain-Glove. As the pressure increased, he spent longer and longer in the device, until eventually it unhinged his mind, and he was claimed by the Pantheon of Chaos. He was not beholden to one, but to the glory of Chaos Undivided.

 

Ultramar Segmentum's neutrality in the Heresy had been bought with the blood of three loyal legions, and as agreed, the traitors left Guilliman and his realm. The Chaos powers had not even needed to corrupt Guilliman to split him from The Emperor - his pride and the need to entrench his position was enough to ensure his temporary quiescence. The Imperial Fists, Salamanders and Iron Hands headed to the Sol system to tighten their grip on Terra, while Luther and his Dark Angels went to rendezvous with their brothers under Lion El'Jonson on Caliban. What occurred on the Dark Angel homeworld is unrecorded by Imperial history, except that it ended with the utter destruction of the planet.

 

The Space Wolves that left the ruins of Prospero and set course for Terra were a much changed breed. Although they arrived believing that they were protecting the Imperium, the ferocity of their battle with the Thousand Sons stripped away the veneer of righteousness. By the end, the Space Wolf legion had been baptised in blood, and anointed into the overt worship of Khorne, the Blood God.

 

The events on Istvaan had revealed a third of the Legionnes Astartes as traitors to the Emperor, with five loyal legions left either effectively destroyed, or entangled on the other side of the galaxy in an interminable conflict. With the news growing worse by the day, the remaining loyalist legions scrambled to get back to Terra, and to save the Emperor...

 

 

The Siege of Terra

W
ith Dorn's Betrayal on Istvaan prematurely revealed, The Emperor and his Custodes were able to seal themselves off inside the Imperial Throne-Room complex. Dorn’s intention had been to quietly dispose of the legions he could not corrupt, and then return to the palace before his treachery was discovered to deal with his father. Dorn, however, had allowed for this eventuality. As the Emperor’s Praetorian, a portion of his legion garrisoned the Imperial Palace, and when the time came, guards became jailers, trapping The Emperor and his Custodes within the armoured bunker of the Imperial Throne-room.

 

Dorn’s grip upon Terra was tightened as, according to his plan, the Blood Angels fleet broke from the warp. What emerged from the landing craft at the Eternity Wall spaceport were not the proud, red-armoured sons of Baal, but gaunt, diseased creatures, who fell upon the terrified defenders to feast upon their blood. The legion had fallen prey to some form of malady that first rotted their blood, forcing them to take fresh stocks from unwilling victims, and in the process ate away at their sanity and loyalty to The Emperor.

 

A ray of hope came for the embattled defenders as the mercurial Night Lords appeared from nowhere. Nothing had been heard from the legion since their Primarch, Konrad Curze, had physically attacked Dorn and taken his followers into hiding. Once more, Night Lord fought Imperial Fist, but this time the reason for it was clear. Characteristic of the Night Haunter’s favoured tactics, the battle through the Imperial Palace was brutal and swift. Then, without warning, they withdrew to take the fight elsewhere across Terra.

 

This respite was short-lived, though, as within days the Arch-Betrayer, Dorn, arrived back from Istvaan in force, along with the Salamanders. The Iron Hands moved to secure Mars for the rebellion, silencing all word from the Adeptus Mechanicus and their Titan Legions. Shortly after, the fleets of the Sons of Horus and the Iron Warriors battered their way through the blockade to make planet-fall, before encircling the Imperial Palace in a counter-siege. This forced the Imperial Fists to defend the outer walls of the palace at the same time that they tried to break into the heavily fortified throne-room. The combination of the Warmaster’s cold fury and Perturabo’s siege-craft slowed Dorn’s progress towards The Emperor.

 

In those bloody days the war hung in the balance, with neither side able to land a fatal blow. With the Iron Hands incommunicado, and seemingly following their own agenda on Mars, and the renegade Space Wolves and Dark Angels unaccountably slowed to a crawl in the warp, Dorn turned ever-more towards the daemonic to win the war. Through foul sorceries and blood-pacts, Terra became a playground for all manner of entities from the Empyrian. To try to crush the resistance, Dorn despatched units of possessed Imperial Fists and the plague-ridden Blood Angels across the globe using his Sky-Fortress, but still the civilian uprising grew apace.

 

The loyalists, however, had their own troubles. The Death Guard were stranded on the other side of the galaxy, having been ambushed by Eldar raiders, which had left their warp engines wrecked and their navigators dead. The White Scars were thought lost in the warp, having not been heard from since their first astropathic recall. At any other time, the Palace’s great Cassius bell would have rung out ten thousand times in mourning, but in such blood-soaked days even a lost legion would have to wait for proper remembrance.

 

By the 55th day of the siege, the Iron Warriors had broken through to the Ultimate Gate. Perturabo himself led the assault that he fervently hoped would bring him face-to-face with Dorn. As the mighty gates were blasted open, it was not Dorn that defended them, but Sanguinius of the Blood Angels, skin pocked and welted, and his once white-feathered wings now balding and slicked with necrotic pus. As the two brothers fought, the wider battlefield grew still. All eyes fixed upon the epic clash as they traded blows that would have crippled lesser beings. In the end, Sanguinius hefted the stunned Perturabo aloft, and brought him down across his knee, breaking his spine. Sanguinius then took flight, carrying his dying brother into the air, and drained him of blood. As the Ultimate Gate was bulldozed shut once more by the defenders, Sanguinius contemptuously threw the corpse back down at the broken Iron Warriors.

 

As it transpired, the Ultimate Gate was never assaulted again, and within a day Dorn broached the adamantium walls of the throne-room. What he found, however, drove him to a fury. The Emperor was long-gone - spirited away by the Night Lords at the start of the siege. While Chaos had focussed its attention upon the throne-room, The Emperor had used the time to organise resistance across Terra. The skeleton force of Custodes that had remained to maintain the illusion bore the brunt of Dorn’s anger.

 

Despite strenuous assertions from Horus that He must leave Terra, The Emperor flatly refused. He had spent the whole of his long lifetime battling to unite Terra and mankind, and had fought at the forefront of the Great Crusade against the scum the universe. He would not be driven away from his own planet. He also had a plan. In the time since His rescue by the Night Lords, He had been working to this end, and just after the death of Perturabo, The Emperor completed His modifications and bonded a portion of His consciousness with the Astronomicon. Instantaneously, the warp-influence weakened planet-wide, with whole legions of lesser entities banished from the physical realm.

 

The rebellion was wounded, but not finished. Then, beyond all expectation, the White Scars arrived. Thought lost, their ships filled the comm-channels with disturbing, discordant harmonics before swooping down into the embattled Lion's Gate spaceport. They murdered the Imperial defenders, and without even fortifying their positions, the corrupted White Scars took to their vehicles and scattered across the planet at high speed to make sport with the cowering civilian population.

 

With another fresh legion throwing its weight behind the traitors, and the fleets of the Dark Angels and Space Wolves only days away, The Emperor had no choice but to cut out the Heresy at its source. He and his finest troops prepared to board The Phalanx and destroy the Arch-Betrayer, Dorn, on his own battle-barge.

 

 

The Phalanx

A
s soon as The Emperor announced His decision to board The Phalanx, Curze appeared from the shadows and volunteered his services. It was known that the Night Lord Primarch was privy to prophetic visions, often of the worst possible fates, and yet even to The Emperor he rarely spoke of what he saw. It was said that these nightmares were not inevitable, and that Curze was constantly tormented to ensure that the worst excesses of his visions would not come to pass.

 

Before he could be asked more details of his plan, Curze was gone. True to his word, though, at the appointed hour sensors registered an internal explosion aboard The Phalanx and the shields preventing teleportation flickered and died. The Emperor, flanked by his Custodes, and Horus along with his Mournival of captains teleported onto the ship, but were scattered across the vast command decks by sinister magicks. Called by the psychic presence of The Emperor, the loyalists fought their way back to their leader.

 

Horus reached The Emperor just outside of Dorn's personal Sanctum, to find the Primarch's terminator armour-clad guards dead, and the armoured doorway already open. A wail of unutterable anguish echoed from the chamber beyond. The pair ventured inside and found the room a wreck. Fine tapestries had been ripped from the walls, and Dorn was smashing the complex mechanisms of his Pain-Glove with the sheared adamantium haft of his personal standard – the banner awarded to him by The Emperor. The pair advanced, ready for the kill, but Horus recognised the look in his brother's eyes from his time just after the possession on Davin and urgently waved his father back.

 

Dorn mumbled that he had been freed - that the pulse from the Astronomicon had given him enough strength to finally banish the daemon. He said that he had killed his corrupted bodyguards and retreated to the Pain-Glove to atone for his sins. Empathising with Dorn, the Warmaster put aside his weapons and advanced, open-handed in friendship, to embrace his returned brother. More wary than Horus, The Emperor hung back, and as though compelled by some unexplained urge, kicked aside a fallen tapestry to reveal the brutalised corpse of Konrad Curze.

 

With his deception revealed, Dorn raised the broken standard pole and plunged it deep into Horus's chest. The Warmaster died, never realising that he had been betrayed a second time. Spurred into action, The Emperor leapt at Dorn. The room had seen the deaths of two of his sons, and He hardened his heart to cause a third. Dorn, though, had been endowed with all the gifts of the Ruinous Powers, and was a match for even the Master of Mankind. The two battled for what seemed like an age, but when the Mournival, led by First Company Captain Abaddon reached the devastated site of the battle, they found both of them broken, burned and shattered beyond aid.

 

Dorn's Heresy had been ended, but doing so had claimed The Emperor's mortal life. All that remained was an echo of His spirit that had been bound to the Astronomicon. It bade Abaddon to reclaim the bodies of The Emperor and His loyal sons, and to re-unite the physical shell with what remained of His immortal soul. They fought their way off the ship with cold fury, and after that The Phalanx, under the command of Sigismund, stayed in orbit just long enough to collect the remaining Imperial Fists. The coalition of traitors fractured, and then scattered, with the Blood Angels, Salamanders and White Scars commandeering whatever vessels they could to escape. The Dark Angel fleet turned from its Terran course, and even the blood-crazed berserkers of the Space Wolves faltered, before falling to fighting amongst themselves.

 

The Emperor was brought to the Astronomicon, where His shattered, lifeless, flesh was integrated with the psychic machinery of the beacon, and fed and nourished with a thousand souls a day to sustain His wavering life-force.

 

The Long War to drive the traitors from the Imperium could then begin.

 

 

The Bitter Harvest - Post-Heresy to M41

Legion Master Abaddon, The First High Lord of Terra

“Horus was weak. Horus was a fool. He stayed his hand and allowed the Arch-Betrayer to cripple The Emperor. If he had survived I would have executed him myself.

 

“We are no longer the Sons of Horus. Neither are we the Lunar Wolves. That is the past, we are the future, and must crusade to take back what was lost, and to destroy the traitors. From this day forth, we are the Black Templars”

[clearfloat][/clearfloat]

T
he Heresy had been averted, but amongst the many casualties had been the Imperium’s Manifest Destiny to rule the galaxy. The Emperor’s vision of a Great Crusade was but a memory, and although the eight Treacher Legions had failed to claim Terra, they were far from defeated: Guilliman’s secessionist ‘Ultramar Segmentum’ was only the largest and most organized of the rebellious realms.

 

With The Emperor hovering as a ghost in the machine, the Warmaster and most of the loyal Primarchs scythed away, it was Abaddon who stepped forward and became de facto leader of the Imperium. Hating his Primarch for not protecting the Emperor, he first reorganised, and then re-named his legion to shun their past, and to reflect their crusading future. Thus, the Black Templars were born, and just as the Warmaster had done before him, Abaddon proved supremely adept at manipulating the disparate parts of the shattered Imperium back to some semblance of order.

 

Accepting the numerical weakness of the Legionnes Astartes at that time, and the vast numbers of threats and enemies they faced, Abaddon made the Black Templars the core of an overwhelming force composed of as many legions as possible. The idea was to prevent the legions becoming isolated, both so that they would not be destroyed piecemeal, and that they would watch over one another to prevent any further legions falling to the Ruinous Powers. Initially there was resistance to such a cautious approach, especially from legions whose Primarchs had survived. However, the tragic fate of the isolated Raven Guard, and the grievous losses the Iron Warriors sustained trying to dislodge the Imperial Fists from their Iron Cage worlds reinforced the wisdom of Abaddon's proposals.

 

Soon he was able to command the fealty of the surviving Primarchs, and played on their individual preferences and prejudices. For instance, Mortarion would commit to a force to drive the Space Wolves from Fenris proposed by Magnus, on the understanding that reciprocity would be observed when it came to mounting a xenocidal crusade against an Eldar Craftworld. For Fulgrim and the Emperor's Children, an attack on Guilliman deep inside Ultramar Segmentum in revenge for Istvaan was the prize, and Lorgar was pacified with leadership of the newly formed Ecclesiarchy and support for his legion's Wars of Faith. Painfully slowly, but surely, the tide turned and the borders of Imperial-controlled space rolled back once again.

 

In the course of a long lifetime, Abaddon saw his patience rewarded. The remaining loyalist legions were rebuilt and expanded, and the Treacher Legions were pushed from their homeworlds and enclaves towards the massive warp-rift which became known as the Eye of Terror. He died as he lived; leading the Imperial forces from the front. On the world of Uralan, in the shadow of a monumental tower, Abaddon was struck down by a huge golden-skinned creature bearing an enormous blade of warp-construction. The first High Lord of Terra was dead, but his philosophy would live on.

 

After the Heresy, the Imperial Fists were regarded with bitterness by the other traitors. If they had won, the Imperium would have been forced to accept the Traitor Legions as the heroic liberators they knew themselves to be, but Dorn’s failure, and perceived weakness, had ultimately broken the rebellion. Now they would forever be condemned as pariahs. Worse, the ravages of extensive daemonic possession and the brutal meat-grinder battles of the Siege had reduced the Imperial Fists to a shadow of their former strength. Inheritor of Dorn’s mantle was Sigismund, who, to avoid the hated 'Imperial' associations, renamed them as the brooding 'Black Legion'.

 

Such was the bitterness surrounding the legion that Sigismund could not expect to command the loyalty of the other traitor Primarchs - he could not even prevent elements of his own command from rebelling. Alexis Polux led many of the possessed marines to their own fate, and these bloody-handed butchers showed even the Space Wolves the true meaning of savagery. Another group despised the way Sigismund had turned his back on their Primarch. Proudly and defiantly calling themselves the Scions of Dorn, they set about carving a reputation by targeting a selected Great Company, be they loyalist or traitor, and not resting until it had been annihilated to the last marine.

 

The Imperium slowly pushed the Traitor Legions out of their traditional enclaves, and most set up bases on the hellish worlds in and around the Eye of Terror. Each seemed driven to periodically strike out from their daemon-worlds for spoil, pleasure, or necessity. The contagions afflicting Sanguinius and his cadaverous Blood Angels grew worse over the centuries, and they were forced to raid further and further afield to provide the fresh blood and replacement organs they so desperately needed. The worst afflicted brethren are driven beyond sanity as the build-up of toxins rotted their brains beyond recovery. These wretches are often grouped together and in battle herded towards their enemies. Although little more than beasts, their warp-boosted vitality, maniacal strength and inability to register pain make them more than a match for even veteran Astartes warriors.

 

Although their home-world of Caliban was reduced to an asteroid field, Luther and his Dark Angels have stubbornly retained a strong presence in the system, although they have also been seen to appear from nowhere and destroy targets throughout the galaxy. The reason for these attacks has been hotly debated by Imperial strategists over ten millennia, with theories ranging from institutionalised insanity to that they are searching for, or trying to obliterate, someone or something...

 

The intentions of other Traitor Legions, such as the White Scars and the Space Wolves, are much clearer. The White Scars now exist only for the thrill of speed, sensation, and battle, while the Space Wolves have submerged themselves wholeheartedly in the worship of Khorne. The disappearance of Leman Russ during the Purging of Fenris saw the legion disintegrate into warbands, each competing to be the most brutal and bloodthirsty in honour of their god. The Space Wolves' attentions extend little beyond slaughter, and there is little place within the legion for the crafting of weapons or armour. Instead, the Space Wolves have chosen to scavenge such things from slain foes, which act both as trophies which proclaim their combat prowess, and to repair the battle damage they inevitably sustain.

 

Vulkan's nihilistic disillusionment with what he saw as the hypocrisy of the Imperium spread over the centuries to encompass his fellow traitors. He and his legion came to despise the petty excesses of the chaos gods and their servants, and made war with both the Imperium and their fellow traitors. Their attempted Burning of Skalathrax was only narrowly averted by a joint action of the newly rebuilt Emperor's Children and World Eaters legions, and this early success cemented bonds of brotherhood between them. Imperial cogniscii have proposed that the Salamanders have formally aligned themselves with an aspect of the Warp they call 'Malal', although what this means in practice is unclear. What is certain is that the Salamanders remain an unpredictable and dangerous foe.

 

The actions of the Iron Hands are, if anything, even more bizarre. Other than at Istvaan, the legion has never been seen to fight alongside the forces of Chaos, and it is widely believed that Manus fought there solely to further his own agenda of raiding Mars. Their objective there has remained shrouded in mystery, as they ignored priceless stores of archeotech to instead excavate something from deep beneath the mountains of Noctis Labyrynthus. After leaving Mars, the Iron Hands vanished, and were thought lost to history, appearing once or twice in a millennia. A collation of confirmed sightings, usually from attacks on archaeological excavations of dead worlds, showed a creeping mechanisation of the body, replacing flesh with metal. Some Iron Hands, the so-called Rubrics of Paullian, appear to revel in total mechanisation.

 

The Iron Hands only revealed themselves fully during the Gothic War, when the legion assaulted and spirited away several of the arcane Blackstone Fortresses that had formerly defended the sector. A being claiming to be Ferrus Manus himself led the successful assault on Blackstone II, but if it was Manus, the fabled liquid metal that covered his hands seemed to have enveloped his entire body. The Mechanicus has never been able to account for what the Iron Hands excavated from beneath the red sands of Mars, but as the frequency of attacks by the legion increases, so does pressure for a proper explanation.

 

To the galactic east, Guilliman took advantage of the anarchy of the Heresy to further cement his realm. Despite strenuous crusades and the insurrectionist actions of the Alpha Legion, the massive size, military efficiency and organisational ability of the Ultramarines and their off-shoot successor 'chapters' meant that any losses were swiftly reclaimed into the Ultramar fold. This has changed in recent centuries, as wars within its own borders with Xenos races have sapped their significant military strength. The arrival of the extra-galactic hive-race of 'Tyranids' was proclaimed by the Ecclesiarchy as a judgement from The Emperor, although this line of rhetoric has been dropped recently as hive-fleets have started attacking into the heart of Segmentum Solar.

 

As dangerous as the incursions from the Tyranids may be, they are only one of the rising threats to the Imperium. After ten thousand years, the Traitor Legions at last seem to be putting aside their differences. That Chaos should finally follow the tactics dictated by Abaddon of a massed crusade would be a terrible irony. What their intentions would be are unknown, but if the Ruinous Powers were to attempt a second assault on Holy Terra, the bloodshed would be truly apocalyptic.

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I like your version of the heresy. It seems to make lots of sense. Its really good! This can be a great addition to the Librarium if you fix the grammatical and spelling errors. I almsot kind of like it better than the current fluff.

 

The only quriks I have are of Horus' death (how he died) and not showing the rest of the Mournival. Other than that, splendid job.

 

Captain Kael :HQ:

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I am glad that you have enjoyed it. Expect IA: World Eaters imminently.

 

I like your version of the heresy. It seems to make lots of sense. Its really good! This can be a great addition to the Librarium if you fix the grammatical and spelling errors. I almsot kind of like it better than the current fluff.

 

The only quriks I have are of Horus' death (how he died) and not showing the rest of the Mournival. Other than that, splendid job.

 

Captain Kael :)

Thanks Kael. I will be submitting it to the Librarium soon. Could you be more specific on the spelling and grammatical errors you noticed so I can nuke them? I proof read it myself multiple times and used a word processor package to catch the bonehead errors, but an extra pair of eyes is always useful. Sigismund Himself has contacted me with some queries, but any more would be very handy.

 

On how Horus died and the absence of the Mournival, bear in mind that this was the overview. More detail will be forthcoming in individual IA's. Specifically on the death of Horus, he paused as he had empathy for Dorn, wanting to believe that he could also have shaken off the posession as Horus had himself, and knowing the torture that he must have undergone. The Mournival were scattered and separated during the teleport, and Abaddon (and the rest?) found them all too late - it also builds up Abaddon's resentment for how Horus acted - but for the full story you will have to wait for IA: Black Templars. (Hehe, love the name twist.)

 

Cheers,

Aurelius.

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I really like this alt history! While seeing Dorn as the bad guy isn't my favorite thing, it still is a great story.

Why, thank you, Dustermaker. I'm glad you liked it.

 

By the way, what was it you didn't like about Dorn being the Big Bad? Someone I discussed this with earlier didn't want Alt-'verse Dorn to be the chief bad guy because Dorn was his favourite Norm-'verse primarch... He is my favourite too, and this could have been part of my reasoning to make him the super-villain - I wanted to see how he would fare in the role.

 

From the believability side, I have tried to make the rationale for Dorn's fall as credible as possible. Given his propensity for the pain-glove, I couldn't resist the idea that he pushed himself in it so far that it unhinged his mind, and allowed the Ruinous powers to corrupt him that way.

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  • 2 weeks later...

The overview article above has been accepted by the Librarium (Hyperlink) and so here is the first of the IA's, for the Alternate Heresy World Eaters.

 

Look out for more, with the Emperor's Children and then Ultramarines next in line. :D

 

 

+++++

 

Index Astartes: World Eaters

 

An Alternate Heresy

 

Of all the Space Marine Legions, none exemplifies the virtues of martial honour and strict self-control more than the World Eaters. Just as Angron transcended his violent youth, he ensured that his Legion would shrug off every setback and betrayal to become paragons of the warrior creed, and ardent supporters of The Emperor's intention to unify the galaxy.

 

Origins

A
ccording to Carpinus’ Speculum Historiale, the best record of Angron’s early years, the young Primarch was born and raised into bloodshed and death, but never let these things claim him. Stolen away from The Emperor by the Ruinous Powers and scattered throughout the galaxy, the infant Angron was found, on an un-named planet, surrounded by the corpses of what were thought to be armed bandits that prowled the region. He was taken in by the locals, was fed and clothed, and according to their traditions promptly sold into slavery to repay their generosity. Given his obvious skill in the combat arts, he was forced into first small-time pit-fighting, and inevitably was traded to the capital city’s gladiatorial arena.

 

At that time The Emperor’s Great Crusade to re-unite the galaxy had not yet reached this world, and the planetary rulers used the grand spectacle of the gladiatorial arenas to slake their population’s bloodlust, and to remind them of the penalty for thoughts of revolt. As the Primarch grew, so too did his reputation, and his frustration with his situation. The slavers, ever-eager to boast of the brutality of their fighters had named him Angron, but The Emperor had made him to be more than a bloodthirsty taker of skulls. It was his name, but not what he was.

 

Angron resented that he and his fellow gladiators were being forced to fight and kill for the pleasure of their masters, and that of the baying crowds. Even worse were the physical and mental mutilations imposed upon them to provide better sport. Implants, ‘glanding’ and the replacement of arms with hooks or blades were all commonplace in the arenas. Angron saw them all as an attempt to steal the only thing the slaves still possessed; their dignity and sense of self. The worst insult was the psycho-surgical procedures to implant ‘aggression chips’ directly into the brain, turning the subject into little better than a mindless berserker. After suffering this fate, Angron bent all his will to escaping his puppet masters.

 

The walls were high and the guns of their guards powerful, but using his natural talent as a warrior and leader of men, at last he found a way. During a massed display of gladiatorial combat the slaves, as one, turned their weapons on their guards. Angron’s meticulous and inspired planning saw to it that they took control of the arena with a minimum of casualties, but the bloodshed that followed shocked him to the core. With freedom in sight, many of Angron’s gladiator brothers became uncontrollable and with the guards routed, continued to fight rather than make good their escape. In the height of blind fury some of the berserkers turned on the fleeing crowds and even, in their madness, their brother gladiators.

 

The slave army escaped the city, but without their berserker brethren, which remained to kill and be killed. The experience brought home to Angron that without iron-willed self-control they would lose themselves. The look in the eyes of his blood-drunk former brothers he had been forced to kill that day convinced Angron that he himself must never suffer that fate.

 

While the gladiators fled into the wild-lands, the rulers of the city assembled and despatched an army of mercenaries to chase them down. Angron and his brothers ambushed the overconfident and ill-disciplined soldiery, stripped them of their weapons and provisions, and sent them back to the city as a bloodied warning not to pursue them any further. However, with word of Angron’s escape spreading and fomenting unrest among the gladiators in other cities, this was not something the planet’s rulers were able to ignore. Fearing for their grip on power and no longer underestimating this ‘simple gladiator’ a force a hundred thousand strong was mobilised and sent to scour the land. Against such overwhelming force, Angron’s only option was to press further and further into the mountains, but eventually there was nowhere left to go. At the summit of Fedan Mhor, Angron and his brothers prepared to make their stand.

 

In the time since the loss of the Primarchs, The Emperor had not been idle. Guided by His unparalleled psychic talents He homed in on His lost sons. And so it was that as Angron prepared to address his army for the coming, hopeless battle, Imperial ships of the Great Crusade came hastily into orbit. Unwilling to risk losing his son before they had even been reunited, The Emperor ordered that Angron be teleported aboard, but Horus, who was accompanying his father, urgently counselled against it. Horus's peerless insight into the psychology of the warrior recognised that to whisk a true leader to safety while his army was butchered would be intolerable. He saw that such an act would irrevocably taint the relationship with bitterness and resentment from the start.

 

Horus successfully convinced his father that there was a better way, and when the sun rose on the mountain, the slaver's armies were faced not only by Angron's former gladiators, but by The Master of Mankind, and the Astartes of the Lunar Wolves. Against such powerful adversaries, the slaver’s forces were easily routed. As they fled the field in disarray, Angron approached his father through the smoke, and knelt in supplication, recognising the bond between them, and respecting the true nobility of The Emperor and His cause. Accepting the inevitable, the planet’s ruling elite quietly stepped down from power, and the world rapidly acceded into the Imperium.

 

Horus took Angron under his wing, educating him in every aspect of the Imperium. In doing so, he was able to assuage his brother’s lingering doubts that he would simply be swapping one set of chains for another; that The Emperor was far from being just another slaver who wanted him to fight and die for his own amusement. Their first meeting on Fedan Mhor had gone a long way towards this, and the presence of Horus and his Lunar Wolves overcame Angron’s initial misgivings about the implants and psycho-conditioning that becoming a marine entailed. At first, the process seemed to be eerily similar to the aggression chips and cybernetic implants that the slavers had forced upon the gladiators, and which had made them less than human. However, after seeing the Lunar Wolves in action, Angron knew that such things were merely tools to make them more efficient warriors, and with rigid self-control they were nothing to be feared. When the Twelfth Legion finally arrived to formally meet their primarch, Angron was ready for command.

 

Angron had not forgotten his old comrades, and the army of former slaves were the first from the planet to join his new legion. The aggression chips were cast off as tools of the oppressor, and the legion was dedicated to the course of martial honour and iron-willed self-control. Berserker fury became a shadow of the past; a legacy of their enslavement that would never again be permitted. Committed to the glory of the Imperium and The Emperor, they would be masters of their own fates. Some aspects of his past - such as his own name - Angron retained, and even embraced as reminders of what they must always fight against. Back in the arena, the slavers called Angron and his fellow gladiators the 'World Eaters' to brag to other cities of how violent and frenzied they were. Thus, to the surprise of members new and old, he chose it to remind them of the darkness against which they must always guard. He renamed the Twelfth Legion the World Eaters.

 

The Heresy

I
n the following years the World Eaters became synonymous with martial honour, and were paragons of The Emperor’s dream to re-unite humanity in the galaxy. Their Grand Companies often fought alongside those of the Lunar Wolves, with Angron’s idealism tempering Horus’s more pragmatic approach. In fact, at a banquet to celebrate the successful completion of the Herax compliance, Horus publically praised Angron as his ‘moral compass’. When Horus was elevated to the rank of Warmaster at Ullanor, none was more forthcoming in support for his mentor than Angron, and it seemed that even with The Emperor returning to Terra, the Great Crusade would be in safe hands.

 

Sadly, it was not to be. First the Warmaster was laid low by an unknown malady, and then word came that Roboute Guilliman had declared the vast swathes of the galactic east liberated by his Ultramarine Legion to be an independent realm - the so-called Ultramar Segmentum. Such an affront to the Imperial dream saw the World Eaters pledge themselves immediately to bringing Guilliman back to his senses, or to end this betrayal once and for all. Under the command of Rogal Dorn, The Emperor’s Praetorian, seven legions assembled in orbit around the Ultramarine’s latest conquest, at the fifth planet of the Istvaan system. The World Eaters, along with the Emperor’s Children and Raven Guard made planet-fall into what they were told was a shattered and broken rebel legion, but instead were devastated by the guns of both the Ultramarines, and their erstwhile allies. Dorn had been corrupted by the Chaos Gods, and had taken the Imperial Fist, Iron Hand, Dark Angel and Salamander legions with him into that damnation. Knowing the World Eater’s legendary idealism and loyalty to the Warmaster, Dorn had not even attempted to turn them to his cause. Instead, he opted to use them as a blood sacrifice to his Dark Masters, and to buy the Ultramarine’s neutrality in the coming war.

 

Wading through rivers of their own blood, the shattered remnants of the three loyal legions fought their way to evacuation. Angron’s martial code demanded that such a gross betrayal must not stand unchallenged, but even he knew there was nothing to be gained from suffering a glorious massacre. Their mission became to get word of Dorn’s treachery back to The Emperor. After dragging as many of their fallen brethren as they could onto the evacuation landers, they came under intense fire from heavy weaponry from Salamander devastator squads commanded by their unmistakable, disfigured Primarch, Vulkan. With shuttles and landers full of his brothers exploding around him, Angron took this final opportunity to save his legion, and to fulfil his personal code. He threw open the hatch and leapt out of the slowly rising vessel into the midst of the Salamanders.

Khârn the Deathless
Angron’s noble sacrifice on Istvaan allowed a precious few World Eaters to escape the carnage, and with them they dragged as many of their fallen brothers as they could. Among the corpses was Captain Khârn, equerry to the primarch himself. Covered in the blood of a hundred grievous wounds, Khârn woke in the makeshift morgue, later saying that Angron had come to him in a vision and told him that it was not yet time for Khârn to join him, and that he still had a mighty task ahead. This proved to be the case. Khârn led the tattered shreds of the legion back to their homeworld, and as Legion Master overcame insurmountable challenges to rebuild and revive the World Eaters. Having passed into the vale of death, and yet returning all the stronger, Khârn the Deathless is an analogy for the legion itself.

The heavy weapons directed against the transports were silenced, and the few survivors of the three legions evacuated to safety. While Angron’s ultimate fate is a matter of heated conjecture. The World Eaters and Emperor’s Children both assert that he met his end in combat with the turncoat Vulkan, while the scurrilous black propaganda spouted by the Salamanders hints at a considerably less heroic end. Needless to say, any battle involving these two legions, such as the Battle of Skalathrax and the Gorthan-Liess Cleansing, are bitterly contested in the extreme.

 

After Istvaan, the World Eaters were reduced to a shadow of their former strength. They limped back to their homeworld with the intention to rebuild their forces, and to play some part in ending Dorn's treachery, but it was not to be. The Heresy had reached even their own planet. The former rulers of the world were gone from power, but still retained much wealth and influence. On their isolated estates, away from prying eyes, they continued their decadent ways and fell into the worship of Chaos. History is unclear whether this happened independently, or part of Dorn's plot to destabilise the legion, but when they realised that the World Eaters had been decimated, and the Imperium wracked by civil war, they seized their opportunity. Private armies besieged the legitimate Imperial government, and paid agitators, sought to raise mobs in rebellion. The war was short, though, as even in their weakened state the World Eaters were quickly able to rout the enemy and re-establish order.

 

Enraged at having power snatched away a second time, the deposed leaders enacted their final solution: If they could not have the planet, then no-one would. At their command powerful explosives detonated along seismic fault-lines and inside the planet’s geothermal power plants, spewing lava across the land and choking the atmosphere with ash. This triggered further waves of volcanic activity that plunged the world into darkness, and caused a global extinction event. The World Eaters, protected by power armour were the only survivors of the cataclysm, but even their fortress-monastery on Fedan Mhor was seriously damaged. Evacuating to their orbiting fleet, the legion stood vigil over their dying homeworld for one hundred days, and then left vowing always to remember, but never to return.

 

Recruitment

B
efore the Heresy, the World Eaters recruited extensively from the former gladiator and pit-slave population of their homeworld. These proved to be a hardy and talented source of marines, although to their regret they found that not all were suitable. A proportion, be it through ill-treatment or by inclination, took such enjoyment and abandon in the spilling of blood that to become a World Eater was simply out of the question. Angron had seen the damage that the blood-drunk could do, to both themselves and their erstwhile friends, and decreed that iron-hard self-control was vital to become one of his legionnaires.

 

Part of this was the removal of their aggression chips, and the ugly scar tissue that resulted from the procedure became a palpable reminder of their rejected past. In solidarity the Terran legionnaires that had never had the procedure took to tattooing the scalp above the left temple, and even ten millennia later, this practice still endures.

 

After the destruction of their homeworld the legion necessarily had to draw their recruits from other systems. The World Eater fleet ranges far across the Imperium, so the legion is able to select the finest candidates wherever they may be found. Each Grand Company’s battle barges have the knowledge and resources to recruit and train the next generation of World Eaters. The legion is well respected and universally regarded as being fair and honourable, and most planetary governors are eager to become a recruiting world, with all the added protection this entails.

 

Combat Doctrine

Skalathrax
Their shared experiences on Istvaan brought the legions of the World Eaters and Emperor's Children together, and forged a strong bond of friendship between the two despite their philosophical differences. Just decades after the heresy, while both legions were still in the midst of rebuilding, they deployed together to defend the world of Skalathrax from the Salamanders. The traitor legion claimed that the incineration of Skalathrax would anoint it as their new daemon-world, but together the loyalists managed to avert this, and in doing so extracted a measure of vengeance for the Salamander's betrayal at Istvaan. The phrase 'Remember Skalathrax' became a rallying cry for a resurgent Imperium, one that echoed from the halls of the High Lords on mighty Terra to the darkest depths of the Eye of Terror.
G
iven their Primarch’s origins as a pit-fighter and gladiator, and Angron’s devotion to martial honour, it is unsurprising that the legion places such a particular emphasis upon close combat. This is reflected by the high number of Assault squads found in their orders of battle, but far from being bloodthirsty maniacs, its roots come from their own code of martial honour, and ironically, a desire to avoid indiscriminate slaughter. Where many legions routinely use orbital bombardment and saturation firepower against a rebellious world, the World Eaters take great pains to minimise civilian casualties, even when it means that they themselves suffer greater losses as the result. It is against an enemy’s leaders and military forces that they take the fight, and test their mettle; there is no honour to be gained in butchering the old, infirm or infants, especially when done from orbit. In close combat the World Eaters know and suitably value each human life they take.

 

On many occasions, most notably the famous assault on the rebellious Partrum Junta and the boarding of the Battle Barge Black Narcissus, entire Grand Companies of World Eaters have taken to the field armed solely with bolt pistol and chain-axe. However, that is not to say that the World Eaters eschew ranged weaponry - particularly when facing xenos and warp-tainted opponents. The bolter is as holy an instrument of The Emperor’s will to them as it is to any of the other loyal legions, and since their earliest days, World Eater Devastator squads have been referred with genuine honour as ‘The Teeth of the World Eaters’. The legion is clinical in its assessment of the best method to eliminate the Imperium’s foes, and on the battlefield Assault, Tactical and Devastator squads mesh seamlessly into an unstoppable white and azure engine of power armoured death.

 

 

 

Organisation

H
aving no homeworld, the World Eater legion is now fleet-based, and has spread itself out amongst the stars. Each Grand Company, numbering upwards of a thousand battle brothers and commanded by a Brother-Captain and his lieutenants strive to perform their assigned duties to the utmost. Normally at least two-thirds of World Eater Grand Companies are to be found engaged in the Crusades proclaimed by the High Lords of Terra, a proportion unmatched by any other legion. These Grand Companies are at the vanguard of the battle against the Ruinous Powers and xenos threats and reclaiming areas of the galaxy long-lost to Imperial rule. Such a role is a dangerous one even for the Legionnes Astartes, and the vehemence with which the World Eaters pursue this task is enviable.

 

Once the crusade has achieved its objective, or grudgingly when the losses sustained by the Great Company become too great, they return to the Imperium proper to recruit, train and replenish their strength. Though this could be considered as reserve status, there are still many battles to be fought inside the Imperium. Rebellions against rightful Imperial rule are sadly all-too common, pirate fleets plague the space-lanes and even the Imperial crusades are unable to prevent wide-scale invasions by heretics and warlike alien races.

 

The diffuse nature of the World Eater legion means that, in practice, each Grand Company retains a great degree of independence. The ultimate authority is the Council of Captains, headed by the Legion Master, which by necessity meets almost exclusively by astropathic means. It is essential in coordinating the actions of the World Eaters across the Imperium, as well as ruling on the commitment of forces to Imperial Crusades, and on rare occasions sanctioning the creation of a new Grand Company.

 

Beliefs

T
he World Eaters retain their Primarch’s sense of martial honour, discipline and iron-willed self-control. They are, if anything, even more organised and regimented than the secessionist Ultramarines and their successor chapters, although the World Eaters restrict themselves to military matters rather than extending it into the civilian side of things. Despite the betrayals and losses they suffered during the Heresy, the World Eaters have never lost their idealistic belief in the concept of The Emperor's Imperium. To this end they are endlessly willing to contribute forces to crusade alongside other legions and the Imperial Army. Unlike some of the other legions though, the World Eaters are motivated by a deep-seated belief that it is the right thing to do, rather than as part of some political machination to serve their own agendas.

 

While the legion does maintain a Librarium of psychically gifted battle brothers, they are few in number, and their remit specialised. This springs primarily from their innate distrust of the immaterial, instead preferring to rely on the heft of an honest chain-axe to the summoning of eldritch fire. After the Heresy revealed the horrifying scope of the threat posed by the Ruinous Powers, successive Legion Masters began to realise the value of being able to fight on the aetheric plane as well. To this end, World Eater librarians are charged with the vital role of sensing the malefic, and warding the souls of their brethren from harm. These roles do not exempt librarians from their normal duties. They are World Eaters, and so are expected to prove themselves at the bloody edge of battle - a place in which their psychically attuned force weaponry comes in extremely useful.

 

Varren stepped aside of the wildly swung frost-blade. In return he brought the chain-axe round and caught the Space Wolf in the vulnerable area between upraised arm and toughened breastplate. Energised teeth churned easily into armour and flesh, sending an arterial spray across the room, and coating his face and once-white and blue armour in darkest crimson.

 

The traitor slumped to the floor, nearly chewed in half by the blade. He was incapacitated, but still clinging to life. It saddened Varren that one of The Emperor’s legions could have fallen to the worship of the Ruinous Powers, dedicated only to the spilling of blood and the taking of skulls. Looking into the madman’s eyes, a chilling thought struck him; would this have been his fate if Angron hadn’t turned his back on bloodshed? There but for the grace of The Emperor...

 

‘Do you have any last words, oath-breaker?’ Varren asked, raising his chain-axe in preparation for a warrior’s execution.

 

‘Blood for the Blood God. He cares not from where it flows,’ rasped the Space Wolf with a burbling chuckle. ‘We are brothers in blood now –’ the sacrilegious insult was cut off abruptly by the falling blade.

 

Varren absently licked his lips, and tasted the coppery tang of the traitor’s blood. Just for the briefest second his mind filled with the memories of his opponent, and he experienced the joy of losing himself within the rising blood-tide...

 

Then the walls of self-control slammed back into place, and with revulsion he fell to his knees. Over the sound of his own retching, Captain Varren was certain he could hear the taunting laughter of the Dark Gods.

[clearfloat][/clearfloat]

 

Gene-Seed

G
ene-seed of the Angron line suffers an unusual degree of genetic drift, and the omophagea implant is absent altogether. Adeptus Mechanicus records showed that the implant abruptly and inexplicably disappeared from samples submitted for purity testing in mid-M34. When the offer was made to return gene-seed from tithed stocks which still contained the omophagea, the legion declined the offer, stating in no uncertain terms that the implant was no longer required.

 

The general degradation in gene-seed quality is attributed to the use of higher than recommend doses of certain chemicals involved in marine hypnotherapy and indoctrination. This hazardous treatment allows World Eater marines to control their responses, emotions and autonomic reactions beyond that of other legions, in line with their compulsion to enforce iron-willed self-restraint on the battlefield. While this genetic drift has not yet been observed to have materially affected implant quality, there is serious concern that eventually the long term viability of the gene-seed as a whole could be in jeopardy. The Imperium can ill-afford to lose the World Eaters, but despite this the legion has strenuously resisted pressure to modify its procedures.

 

Battlecry

'F
or Angron and The Emperor!' is a common battlecry, although where World Eaters face traitors of the Salamanders legion, 'Remember Skalathrax!' is often used instead.
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This new addition is a very good piece of work. The World Eaters were hadled very nicely and the concepts you have used to portray them in this new ligth is fantastic.

 

I have a few quirks though. The battle between Vulkan and Angron should have been a little more descriptive, but then again if you are tying to pull of the Emperor's Children/Iron Hands thing than it works fine. Also, more on Khârn. Does he led the legion after Angron's death or is he still just a captain?

 

I noticed a few errors.

 

and had taken the Imperial Fist, Iron Hand, Dark Angel and Salamander legions with him into that damnation

 

The legion names should have a "s" at the end. The Imperial Fists Legion, because Imperial Fist would be used to describe one Imperial Fist. Same with the Iron Hands Legion, the Dark Angels Legion, and the Salamanders Legion.

 

So the sentence could look like - "and had taken the Imperial Fists, Iron Hands, Dark Angels, and Salamanders with him into damnation."

 

Most people would know they are leigons so you probably don't need to incorporate it into the sentence. I know you were trying to be grammaticcally correct by making the legion names singular and the word legion plural but I found it weird. I might just be being picky though. ^_^

 

Their mission became to get word of Dorn’s treachery back to The Emperor.

 

The sentence does not seem right to me. You could try something like - "Their mission now became to warn the Emperor of Dorn's treachery." Or something along those lines.

 

After dragging as many of their fallen brethren as they could onto the evacuation landers, they came under intense fire from heavy weaponry from Salamander devastator squads commanded by their unmistakable, disfigured Primarch, Vulkan.

 

Again this one doesn't seem right to me. The word dragging seems wrong as well, as the World Eaters will not drag everyone back, I mean to retreat, you still have some men who can run and fight.

 

Maybe something like - "After securing the wounded onto the evacuation landers, the retreating World Eaters came under intense fire from Salamander heavy weapons commanded by the disfigured Primarch, Vulkan."

 

With shuttles and landers full of his brothers exploding around him, Angron took this final opportunity to save his legion, and to fulfil his personal code.

 

Exploding can be subsituted for a better word and the comma between "legion" and "and" is not needed.

 

The World Eaters and Emperor’s Children both assert that he met his end in combat with the turncoat Vulkan, while the scurrilous black propaganda spouted by the Salamanders hints at a considerably less heroic end.

 

Hints should be changed to hint.

 

Angron’s noble sacrifice on Istvaan allowed a precious few World Eaters to escape the carnage, and with them they dragged as many of their fallen brothers as they could.

 

"allowed a precious few" does not make sense gramatically. That should be re-worked. Dragged can also be replaced by something more suitable, like rescued or something.

 

Anyways I am tired and I have to go to bed, I have school tomorrow. It was a good read and a job well done. With the errors fixed it should be perfect for the Librarium.

 

I will look at the rest tomorrow and post any mistakes I find then.

 

Captain Kael :HQ:

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I really like this alt history! While seeing Dorn as the bad guy isn't my favorite thing, it still is a great story.

Why, thank you, Dustermaker. I'm glad you liked it.

 

By the way, what was it you didn't like about Dorn being the Big Bad? Someone I discussed this with earlier didn't want Alt-'verse Dorn to be the chief bad guy because Dorn was his favourite Norm-'verse primarch... He is my favourite too, and this could have been part of my reasoning to make him the super-villain - I wanted to see how he would fare in the role.

 

From the believability side, I have tried to make the rationale for Dorn's fall as credible as possible. Given his propensity for the pain-glove, I couldn't resist the idea that he pushed himself in it so far that it unhinged his mind, and allowed the Ruinous powers to corrupt him that way.

 

Don't get me wrong, you did an AMAZING job with the story so far. I just always felt that Dorn kinda got the shaft in the official gw fluff. I guess I always felt a little sorry for him. I really like how he is portrayed in your alt history though, his strengths really come to bear in this version! I also love how Sigismund takes over and makes the "black legion". I can't wait to read more.

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Thanks for the responses to the World Eaters IA.

 

@Captain Kael - Thanks very much for this! I was particularly interested to see that kind of detailed feedback as it is the sort of think that I give when I respond to people's DIY chapter IA's in Liber Astartes. B) Now that I have just finished the Ultramarines IA article in this series I will be going back over all the feedback on the World Eaters that I have got - Thanks again to Ferrata and Sigismund Himself - and review it all before I submit this to the Librarium. English lessons were a long time ago and I certainly wouldn't claim to be a master of the rules of grammar.

 

The battle between Vulkan and Angron should have been a little more descriptive, but then again if you are tying to pull of the Emperor's Children/Iron Hands thing than it works fine. Also, more on Khârn. Does he led the legion after Angron's death or is he still just a captain?

I found it difficult to make the Vulkan / Angron battle more descriptive as the details were intended to be surrounded in mystery. Angron went alone into the battle and was never seen again, so only the Salamanders would be able to say what happened, and they are far from unimpartial commentators. This will doubtless be touched on in Alt-IA: Salamanders, but I wanted to leave people room to come up with their own theories.

 

Khârn had his own sidebar, Khârn the Deathless, which I thought would be enough. :) It mentions there that he became Legion Master.

 

 

The legion names should have a "s" at the end. The Imperial Fists Legion, because Imperial Fist would be used to describe one Imperial Fist. Same with the Iron Hands Legion, the Dark Angels Legion, and the Salamanders Legion.

 

So the sentence could look like - "and had taken the Imperial Fists, Iron Hands, Dark Angels, and Salamanders with him into damnation."

 

Most people would know they are leigons so you probably don't need to incorporate it into the sentence. I know you were trying to be grammaticcally correct by making the legion names singular and the word legion plural but I found it weird. I might just be being picky though.

I think I changed that back and forth during proofing. "and had taken the Imperial Fists, Iron Hands, Dark Angels, and Salamanders with him into damnation." admittedly sounds better.

 

Their mission became to get word of Dorn’s treachery back to The Emperor.

The sentence does not seem right to me. You could try something like - "Their mission now became to warn the Emperor of Dorn's treachery." Or something along those lines.

Perhaps it is personal preference, but I can't see too much of a difference between the two lines. I will size it up before submitting to the Librarium.

 

After dragging as many of their fallen brethren as they could onto the evacuation landers, they came under intense fire from heavy weaponry from Salamander devastator squads commanded by their unmistakable, disfigured Primarch, Vulkan.

Again this one doesn't seem right to me. The word dragging seems wrong as well, as the World Eaters will not drag everyone back, I mean to retreat, you still have some men who can run and fight.

 

Maybe something like - "After securing the wounded onto the evacuation landers, the retreating World Eaters came under intense fire from Salamander heavy weapons commanded by the disfigured Primarch, Vulkan."

The intention of the word 'dragged' was that they were not just helping the wounded back to the landers, but also trying to carry as many of the dead with them as well - a doomed attempt to leave no man behind considering the numbers of dead brethren, but an attempt they wanted to make considering their martial code. As Khârn was among the 'corpses' they brought on board and the role he played in the legion's future, this was lucky that they did this.

 

I will see if the intent of the passage can be clarified further.

 

With shuttles and landers full of his brothers exploding around him, Angron took this final opportunity to save his legion, and to fulfil his personal code.

Exploding can be subsituted for a better word and the comma between "legion" and "and" is not needed.

What is wrong with 'exploding'? :) It seems to have more punch than 'shot down'... Could you suggest a better phrase as I am unclear on one myself.

 

The World Eaters and Emperor’s Children both assert that he met his end in combat with the turncoat Vulkan, while the scurrilous black propaganda spouted by the Salamanders hints at a considerably less heroic end.

Hints should be changed to hint.

Point taken. :)

 

Angron’s noble sacrifice on Istvaan allowed a precious few World Eaters to escape the carnage, and with them they dragged as many of their fallen brothers as they could.

"allowed a precious few" does not make sense gramatically. That should be re-worked. Dragged can also be replaced by something more suitable, like rescued or something.

I will look at 'allowed a precious few', but to me it seems OK. :huh: Can you suggest an improvement?

 

 

@The emperors chosen -

i like it, i get the feeling that the world eaters are like the black templars in the "actual" 40,000 universe. You might want to put what the cry 'Remember Skalathrax!' means

The battlecry 'Remember Skalathrax!' is a reference to their actions discussed in the 'Skalathrax' sidebar, where they worked together with the Emperor's Children to stop the Salamanders from incinerating the world of Skalathrax. They remember it because it proved that they were back from the brink of extinction and together they could defeat the Traitor legions. Does the sidebar cover this? :)

 

 

@Inquisitor Engel I like just about all the primarchs to a greater or lesser degree - if I didn't I wouldn't be able to write an IA for each one. :D As mentioned above I have just today finished the Ultramarines IA, although I can't say when it will hit the board, and the flipside Kurze is one I am really looking forward to writing.

 

 

@Grimdarkness - Well in the overview article he took the half of the Dark Angels legion under his command to join the turncoats at Istvaan, and in the Imperium's eyes publically proclaimed the entire legion to Chaos. This would have really annoyed The Lion who knew nothing of this, and led to a big punchup on Caliban!

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Following IA: World Eaters (with final changes) being accepted by the Librarium - links in my sig below - the spotlight falls on the second legion in the series, and what Fulgrim's Emperor's Children have been up to in this alternate timeline.

 

Are there any comments or feedback on this before this also gets submitted to the Librarium?

 

Aurelius.

 

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Index Astartes: Emperor's Children

 

An Alternate Heresy

 

Before the Heresy, Fulgrim proclaimed that his legion had achieved a state of perfection, and for their pains were targeted for destruction at Istvaan by the Ruinous Powers. Through their peerless abilities they survived and ever since have fought tirelessly against the entropy and decline that has afflicted even the Legionnes Astartes. With their meticulously maintained marks of ancient equipment and weaponry, they are the epitome of a small, but elite, and mobile strike-force.

 

Origins

S
o concerned were the Ruinous Powers by The Emperor’s plan to create the Primarchs that they stole the infants away and scattered them throughout the galaxy. Not even this, though, could deflect Fulgrim from his fate. The planet of Chemos, like many before The Emperor’s reunification, had been settled during mankind’s first expansion into the cosmos, but having lost the gift of spaceflight, had become isolated over the ages. By the time Fulgrim fell to earth, the inhabitants of Chemos had slipped perilously close to extinction, clinging to survival by scavenging from deserted settlements and endlessly recycling their increasingly sparse stocks of food and water.

 

It was five decades later that The Emperor finally set foot on Chemos, and it is a testament to Fulgrim’s exceptional abilities that in that time he had risen from a foundling to become the ruler of the entire planet. What is more, he had transformed it from a faltering society in terminal decline to a powerful, resurgent world reclaiming the lost settlements and rediscovering long-forgotten knowledge. No longer were they living day to day: Fulgrim had given the population of Chemos hope for the future.

 

On meeting his father and hearing The Emperor’s story, Fulgrim was struck by the parallels between their lives. Both had risen to power purely through merit, and The Emperor’s Great Crusade to reunite the lost human worlds into a galaxy-spanning Imperium echoed his own achievements, and reassured Fulgrim of the truth of his father’s words. Back on Holy Terra, Fulgrim was introduced to his legion. Due to a catastrophe with their gene-seed the legion was only 200 strong, but the return of their Primarch would change this. In front of the massed Terran dignitaries and even The Emperor Himself, Fulgrim addressed his warriors, saying: “We are His children. Let all who look upon us know this. Only by imperfection can we fail him. We are the Emperor’s Children, and we will not fail him.”

 

The onlookers were shocked by the presumption of appropriating The Emperor’s name for the legion, but the Master of Mankind simply laughed, and further indulged His son. The newly named Emperor’s Children were allowed the signal honour of being the only legion to bear The Emperor’s Aquila on their armoured breastplates, a distinction that endures to this day. Thus named and anointed, the arduous process of building the legion to fighting strength began. In his eagerness to prove himself, Fulgrim volunteered his legion for duty at the earliest opportunity. Unfortunately, they were so few in number that they had to accompany another force. Fulgrim chose that of The Emperor and His Praetorians, the Imperial Fists.

 

The first meeting between the brothers, Dorn and Fulgrim, was cordial, but this state of affairs did not last. The source of the hostility stemmed from a clash of personalities, and Fulgrim’s opinion, perhaps borne out by what followed, that he rather than Dorn should be The Emperor’s Praetorian. Fulgrim was certainly forthright when it came to criticising the performance of the Imperial Fists, and was the first to boast of his warrior’s achievements to The Emperor. Fulgrim clearly saw himself as the favoured son, and when the Emperor’s Children finally reached full-strength, a lavish ceremony was held on the newly compliant world of Pelthan. Expectations among the legion were that at this coming of age, they would take their rightful mantle as The Emperor’s new Praetorians. When they were instead merely granted their own expedition of the Grand Crusade, a palpable sense of shock and outrage at the injustice spread through the hall. Dutiful son that he was, Fulgrim stood, silenced his troops, and contritely thanked his father for the honour.

 

The voyage from Pelthan was a lonely one for the Emperor’s Children. There was a sense that their fate, and indeed the entire universe had been upended. Worse was to come as the demoralised legion suffered a succession of gruelling, drawn-out campaigns of compliance, the last of which left Fulgrim critically wounded. Lord Commander Eidolon immediately suspended the expedition, and the fleet returned to Chemos, fully expecting to lay their Primarch to rest on his home soil. Rather than succumb though, Fulgrim awoke reinvigorated, and demanded to address the legion. He spoke with eloquence and passion that they had collectively been blinded by doubt and fear, but on the brink of death he had been gifted an epiphany. Their path was to seek out and achieve perfection in the arts of war, and once they achieved it, they must hold to it fast.

 

Fabius Bile
Despite Fulgrim’s declaration that the Emperor’s Children had reached perfection during the Laer campaign, a small faction within the legion defied their primarch’s injunction. Most prominent amongst these conspirators were a group within the Apothecarion who covertly continued their experiments under the cloak of treating their wounded brethren. These perversions included re-wiring the pleasure centres of the brain and even using xenos biological material from the vanquished Laer in their blasphemous works. This unforgivable breach of discipline was swiftly rooted out on the voyage to Istvaan. The leader, a talented but misguided Apothecary by the name of Fabius Bile, took the coward’s way out rather than having to answer to Fulgrim for his crimes. By the time they were able to break into the apothecarion, Bile's body had been rotted to an organic stew inside his armour by powerful enzymes. If he had lived, Bile’s punishment would undoubtedly have been an order of magnitude worse.
Just as Fulgrim had done when he first came to Chemos, this second arrival brought hope to the population. Thus armed, the Emperor’s Children, with Fulgrim at their head, returned to the Great Crusade with renewed purpose, knowing that they would not fail again. After innumerable stunningly successful campaigns that brought countless worlds back into the burgeoning Imperium of Man, Fulgrim redirected the fleet from their assigned course, and turned them instead towards a xenos world inhabited by a hostile and powerful race known as the Laer.

 

Such was the threat posed by the Laer that Imperial planners had projected any force attacking them would be wading through rivers of blood for decades. As the Laer were seemingly content in their isolation, they had been left until now. Fulgrim, however, saw them as his legion’s greatest test. He would exterminate them, and furthermore achieve this task within a standard solar month. The Emperor’s Children found that rather than a single race, the Laer had adapted and specialised their bodies to such a degree that they were barely recognisable as the same species. The only traits they held in common were a mastery of their own sphere of combat and the desperate tenacity of those facing total extinction.

 

The war wrought a terrible toll on both sides as weapons of incredible power were unleashed. The skills of the legion’s apothecaries, long the guardians of genetic purity, shone as they performed miracles in keeping their brothers alive and fighting. From weightless conditions aboard orbital defence platforms to dog-fights among freezing clouds and lethal close-range meat-grinders aboard deep submersible habitats, the Emperor’s Children scoured the Laer from existence. The very last Laer was cut down in one of their blasphemous temples, three days before the allotted month was out. Arriving after the battle had ended, Fulgrim declined to tour the site despite being regaled with tales of its haunting beauty, saying he had no wish to so dignify the xenos or their superstitions. He instead had the fane pounded to dust by orbital bombardment, along with every other remnant of Laeran culture.

 

Back in orbit around the dead world, Fulgrim addressed his entire legion. He said the campaign had proved that they had indeed achieved The Emperor’s perfection. Driven to constantly change and adapt, the Laer had twisted their minds and bodies beyond all recognition, and yet the Emperor’s Children had defeated them through their unsurpassed skill and devotion to purity. Similarly, the legion must be wary of diluting their Emperor-given state of perfection in the guise of ‘progress’, as to corrupt the ideal in this way would be an unforgivable act of sacrilege.

 

On that day, the Emperor’s Children became a bastion of constancy in an ever-shifting galaxy.

 

“And what of Fulgrim?” rumbled the first voice.

“He and his legion are ripe with pride, arrogance and jealousy,” said the second voice. “Even now they are walking straight into the embrace of my children, the Laer. By the time they reach Istvaan, they will be willing supplicants to -”

“No! I forbid it!” roared the Primarch through the pain.

“Forbid?” whispered the second, as silky and dangerous as an unsheathed blade.

The four paused. Could their control have slipped?

“They don’t deserve to be elevated like that,” said the Primarch more levelly. “They don’t deserve such a reward.” The poisonous animosity between the two was a livid wound upon his psyche. It was clear to the four that the outburst was motivated by loathing rather than mercy.

“Very well, my lord,” said the third in the phlegmy rattle that passed for a voice. “In any case, I know my brother has his eye on another morsel, the White Scars.”

“So be it – we grant you this boon,” said the fourth voice, “but you must make sure that you have sufficient forces to crush them utterly.”

“It will be my pleasure,” said Rogal Dorn as he deactivated the Pain-glove, climbed out, and strode rigidly from the empty room.

[clearfloat][/clearfloat]

 

The Heresy

N
o sooner had the Emperor's Children reached their apotheosis than they received an urgent astropathic communiqué concerning the Ultramarines. Guilliman’s legion had brought much of the far galactic east into Imperial compliance, but now by right of conquest had claimed the area as their own. Rather than showing dismay and disbelief that one of his brother primarchs could turn his back upon The Emperor, Fulgrim took the news with quiet satisfaction. It reinforced his feeling of superiority, and gave him the chance to put his legion to the test against the closest thing that remained to a challenge: other Astartes. The only thing to sour the moment was the news that the force sent to discipline the Ultramarines would be commanded by his adversary, Rogal Dorn.

 

The Emperor’s Children set course for the Istvaan system. It was the site of Guilliman’s latest addition to his ‘Ultramar Segmentum’, and both the rebellious Primarch and much of his massed legion were present on the fifth planet. Seven legions were called to Istvaan, with the Imperial Fists, Iron Hands, Salamanders and Dark Angels making planet-fall first to encircle, devastate and demoralise the defenders. The Emperor’s Children, World Eaters and Raven Guard were given the task of falling upon what remained to administer the coup de grâce. On Dorn’s command the three legions descended from orbit, only to find themselves caught in an ambush. Far from demoralised, they found the Ultramarines well dug-in, heavily armed and highly organised. Landing craft were torn apart by concentrated anti-aircraft fire and drop pods incinerated before their hatches were even blown. Under the peerless leadership of the Emperor’s Children, the mauled remnants of the three legions broke out to link up with their supporting legions, only to uncover the true depths of the betrayal, as their erstwhile allies also opened fire upon them.

 

The comm-channels were awash with pleas for their brothers to cease fire, and it was Fulgrim who first guessed the terrible truth. This was no accident: Dorn had betrayed them. The Emperor’s Children vented their frustration on the turncoats before them, and Fulgrim led what remained of his personal retinue against the Primarch of the Iron Hands. Fulgrim had considered Ferrus Manus to be a rare friend rather than a rival, and so the betrayal was all the deeper. Legion records tell that Fulgrim managed to mortally wound Manus, and even sever one of his fabled metal hands. Sadly, this account has been proved to be apocryphal as Manus was later seen on Mars, and personally commanded his legion in the Gothic Sector as recently as early M41.

 

Through daring, skill and determination a tiny fraction of the three legions escaped back to orbit to spread word of Dorn’s Great Betrayal to the wider Imperium. Despite their brutish demeanour, the World Eaters had impressed Fulgrim on the field of battle, and genuine bonds of friendship were forged that persist to this day. Corax and his Raven Guard left, as was their way, silently and swiftly for their home-world. Though it pained Fulgrim to do so, it was agreed that their numbers were so few that the only option was to return to their home-worlds and rebuild their legions for the inevitable fight-back. The Emperor’s Children had risen from the ashes once, they would do so again.

 

After the Heresy

D
espite their betrayal and near-extinction at Istvaan, Fulgrim’s assertion that his legion had achieved the heights of perfection remained unshakeable. If anything, these events reinforced his view. They could not have been corrupted or defeated in a fair fight, so instead Dorn had tried – and failed - to obliterate them beneath overwhelming numbers. Dorn’s Heresy was brought to a bloody end before they could properly reconstitute their losses. Chief among the casualties was The Emperor Himself, who was left as little more than a ghost in the Astronomican machine.

 

Although Fulgrim never spoke openly of it, he clearly grieved for his father, and perhaps even regretted his choice to rebuild the legion rather than trying to fight their way back to Terra. Dorn, the Arch-Betrayer, was dead, and yet other traitor legionnaires still drew breath. The urge to track them down and mete out bloody retribution was powerful, yet Fulgrim never once compromised his principles to boost their numbers. Only the finest recruits were inducted into the Emperor’s Children, which meant that while their high standards were maintained, the legion remained pitifully small.

 

For this reason they deigned to fight alongside other loyalist legions, first with the World Eaters, where they saved the planet of Skalathrax from the Salamanders, and eventually took their place in Abaddon’s massed Black Crusades. To finally strike back was cathartic, but Fulgrim was horrified at the short-cuts the other legions had taken to replace their losses, in particular the new, inferior marks of war-gear being rushed into production. Though it significantly slowed the rate at which the Emperor’s Children could reconstitute their ranks, Fulgrim was confident he had made the right choice. They would not compromise their principles and their purity.

 

Ever since the dark days of the Heresy, the Emperor’s Children have been dedicated to the protection of the Imperium. However, while they do fight against xenos incursions and bring heretical regimes back into the Imperial fold, they rarely see such opponents as a worthy challenge. Their real passion is ignited by the chance to test themselves against the traitor legions, and especially those that betrayed them on Istvaan. It was Fulgrim who proposed a Black Crusade against Roboute Guilliman himself, that it was their duty to finally end the existence of the man who had triggered the Heresy. It was Fulgrim who led the nine loyal legions deep into the hostile territory of Ultramar Segmentum, and it was Fulgrim who met, and bested Guilliman on the blood-soaked world of Prandium.

 

Such a deed would have made Fulgrim the only person, bar The Emperor, to have killed one of the traitor primarchs, and yet he willingly forwent this singular honour in favour of a far more fitting punishment. Using their superior pre-Heresy technology, the Emperor’s Children placed the dying Guilliman within a temporal stasis field and returned it to Holy Terra so that his eternal torment might be witnessed by The Emperor. The body is housed within the deepest vaults of the Purgatory Falls Sepulchre, and although it should be impossible, it is said that the agonies of his long final second have been felt by generations of telepaths down the millennia.

 

Of Fulgrim’s own fate, nothing is known for certain. He disappeared without a word from the inner sanctum of his flagship, the Pride of Chemos. Much has been read into the physical evidence in the chamber, such as the etched adamantium wall-panels. Some speculate that it was caused by some unknown type of weaponry; others said that Fulgrim had ascended to another spiritual level, and that it was a physical manifestation of this transcendence. Few though, within the legion, truly believe that their Primarch is dead. They only differ over how and when he will return.

 

Homeworld

B
efore the arrival of Lord Fulgrim, Chemos was isolated from the wider galaxy, its inhabitants clinging to existence on their desperately polluted world. Fulgrim turned around this decline, reclaiming previously abandoned settlements and giving the population hope for the future. With the arrival of The Emperor and an influx of Imperial technology, this development leapt forward dramatically. Chemos became the site of the legion’s Fortress-Monastery, and extensive new mines and manufactories were built to arm the Emperor’s Children for their wars in the Great Crusade.

 

The Chemos Curse
From orbit, Chemos was infamously compared with the face of “an aging courtesan, far past her prime but gamely applying rouge and powder to cover her pitted, pock-marked face.” Admiral Markovich, received orders to patrol the Ghoul Stars shortly after uttering this unflattering witticism, a tour from which his grand cruiser and escort cadre never returned. This has led to an Imperial Navy superstition that to speak ill of Chemos is deathly bad luck, and that anyone doing so is roundly flogged, be they the lowliest ship's rating or the commanding officer.
This increased level of production darkened the skies with pollution, an image akin to the desperate days before the coming of the Primarch. This, along with the desire for perfection and the call of his artist’s soul prompted Fulgrim to decree that they would turn the planet itself into a place of beauty: a world fit for the Children of The Emperor. Using influence that only a primarch could wield, Fulgrim ordered that the planet be terraformed. Pollution was scrubbed from the air and water, and Chemos was transformed into a wild, verdant world of azure skies, shining lakes and deepest forests. So as not to spoil this idyll, Fulgrim also ordered the manufactories, mines and main population centres be relocated below the surface in vast, hermetically sealed caverns.

 

Such a mighty task took many centuries to fully complete, interrupted as it was by the Heresy, the near-destruction of the Emperor's Children at Istvaan, and the dark times that followed. Eventually, Fulgrim was rewarded for his labours with a world to rival even the lushest pleasure-planet in its beauty. Only the Emperor’s Children themselves and civilians charged with the upkeep of the environment and for the production of fresh food for the legion are allowed access to the surface. The remaining population labours endlessly in the buried hive cities, producing the pre-Heresy era equipment and weapons demanded by the Emperor’s Children. The skill of these artisans in keeping alive knowledge of patterns and marks used during the Great Crusade is unparalleled even, so they boast, by the Adepts of Mars.

 

Sadly, despite their best efforts, the beauty of Chemos has faded over the millennia. In the absence of the Lord Fulgrim, entropy has taken a heavy toll upon the little-understood terraforming equipment, and catastrophic cave-ins have scarred the once-pristine world. In addition to the death-toll, these cave-ins have caused irretrievable losses of ancient technology. For instance, Persuai sub-hive was responsible for vital power generation systems used in mark 3 “Iron” pattern power armour. The catastrophic collapse that destroyed it in late M39 has meant that ever since, these suits have incorporated non-authentic elements cobbled together from later marks. To this day, search-teams still excavate the ruins of Persuai, ever-hopeful that the lost knowledge might one day be reclaimed.[/i]

 

Combat Doctrine

M
arines of the Emperor’s Children are expected to be proficient, nay, to excel in each and every battlefield role. This means that a battle brother would be expected to crew a vehicle as capably as they would fire a heavy weapon or fight in close combat. Although this is sought through endless training, as it is among the other loyal legions, the Emperor’s Children add a different aspect to their regimes – the incorporation of artistic pursuits.

 

The most obvious benefit of this is their approach to close combat. Where the World Eaters are coldly clinical and methodical, with each member of the force meshing together seamlessly, the Emperor’s Children have a fluid grace borne of the study of dance and poetry. They flow across the battlefield, darting aside from blows and bullets before sweeping past their foes to strike three more before the first corpse has hit the ground. Officers of the Emperor’s Children are renowned for their powerful rhetorical style, honed through intense study of the form and function of literature, poetry and the oratorical arts.

 

Their steadfast rejection of technological developments has meant that many vehicles commonly used by the other legions are absent from the armouries of the Emperor’s Children. For them the trusted, ancient marks of Predator, Rhino and Land Raider are more than sufficient. Modifications such as the Tilvius APC or the brutish Vindicator are looked upon as at best a corruption of the purity of the venerable Rhino chassis. Even smaller variants in weapon system such as the Predator Dominator and the Land Raider Incinerator are shunned.

 

Their laborious production of older weapons and war-gear mean that the Emperor’s Children are the only legion able to field appreciable numbers of jet-bikes, which they maintain, with some justification, are more than a match for the slow and ungainly Land Speeder. Another example of the superiority of the legion’s venerable war-gear is the Raptor jump pack. The complexity of manufacture and maintenance of these devices became prohibitive even for the Legionnes Astartes. When the STC for the simpler, but far less effective DH2 pattern jump pack was discovered, only the Emperor’s Children opted to retain the older form in service. Such rigid adherence to Fulgrim’s pre-Heresy vision of perfection, along with the luxury of limitless access to the manufacturing base of an entire planet is a defining feature of the combat doctrine espoused by the Emperor’s Children.

 

Organisation

W
hile other legions have increased in size and adapted their command structures over the millennia, the Emperor's Children have defiantly remained the same. They are composed of thirty grand companies, the same number that made up the legion during the ascension of the Laer campaign. Each grand company is led by a Lord Commander, an instrument of Fulgrim’s will, who through his subordinate captains directs upwards of a thousand marines. Respect for their superior officers is ingrained into the psyche of the Emperor’s Children, with each successive rank moving closer to Lord Fulgrim, and by extension, closer to an unquestionable ideal.

 

The excessive care taken over both gene-seed purity and the calibre of new recruits has meant that even in the aftermath of the Istvaan Betrayal, the Emperor’s Children have never compromised their standards simply to fill out the ranks. Similarly, given the degree of time and effort required to produce their venerated wargear, it is unsurprising that they are by far the smallest of The Emperor’s legions. What they lack in numbers, they say, is more than compensated for with their unparalleled skill. This is something which they are all-too eager to demonstrate to Astartes of other legions, be it in the duelling cages, or on the battlefield against The Emperor’s enemies.

 

Among Lord Commanders there is a strictly defined hierarchy. In the absence of Lord Fulgrim, what would elsewhere be called the post of Legion Master resides with the Lord Commander of the First Grand Company. Even before the Heresy, each grand company had its own favoured style of combat. This was a reflection of their Lord Commander’s personality, something encouraged by Fulgrim himself. This was reflected in unofficial, but enduring names for each grand company. For example, the Seventh Grand Company are informally known as the ‘Hawk Lords’ for their unmatched skill at aerial warfare with Raptor pack and jet-bike.

 

Beliefs

W
ith all their hearts, the Emperor’s Children believe in their own purity and innate superiority. They cling tight to Fulgrim's assertion that they achieved perfection just before the Heresy, and will do nothing to dilute this, be it with the new, inferior marks of weapons and equipment, or accepting anything less than the most pristine specimens of gene-seed. This obsessive attention to detail means that while the Emperor’s Children will never be a large legion, each member is a paragon of what it means to be an Astartes. They believe that the only being to surpass them is The Emperor, and while they do not view him as a god, their respect and admiration for him is unbreakable.

 

Fighting alongside allies, such as the Imperial Army or even Astartes from other legions is often a source of friction. Their superiority can sometimes be mistaken for arrogance or high-handedness. Despite this, the Emperor’s Children enjoy demonstrating their skills to others, but ultimately are most comfortable fighting alone, where they only have to rely upon their own trusted battle-brothers.

 

Gene-seed

S
ince the gene-seed disaster that nearly wiped out the legion in its infancy, the Emperor’s Children have taken obsessive care in the screening of implants. This solemn duty falls to the legion’s apothecaries. From the battlefield harvesting of progenoid glands from critically wounded brethren to the testing, culturing and implantation into new recruits, they are the guardians of Fulgrim’s genetic legacy. As such, the gene-seed of the Emperor’s Children is of unmatched purity, with all nineteen implants working as well today as when they were first gifted by The Emperor.

 

Despite the stability of the Fulgrim gene-seed, the stringency of the screening process still results in a relatively high proportion of rejections. Although this is in part compensated for by an implantation success rate unmatched by the other legions, it does mean that the Emperor’s Children are slow to replace brothers lost in battle. The legion has been brought twice to the brink of destruction, and twice they have emerged triumphant. They see this as a testament to the strength of their gene-line, and a vindication of their zeal in guarding its integrity with terminal intensity.

 

By long tradition, the progenoid gland in the chest is surgically removed as soon as it matures, while the second is harvested only upon the marine’s death. The early elective removal of one progenoid minimises the chances that it will be damaged or subjected to contamination. In the event that some catastrophe should destroy the legion’s stocks of gene-seed, surviving battle brothers carry within them the means to continue the Fulgrim line. As a legion that has faced extinction on more than one occasion, the Emperor’s Children are acutely aware of the need to consider such things.

 

Battlecry

T
he legion has, of course, kept its Pre-Heresy battlecry - "Children of The Emperor! Death to His Foes!"
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  • 1 month later...

Thanks for the notes on the Emperor's Children. I will polish it up before submitting to the Librarium. Here is the third Index Astartes article in the series, from the third of the betrayed legions at Istvaan...

 

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Index Astartes: Raven Guard

 

An Alternate Heresy

 

Corrupted while attempting to rebuild their legion after the Istvaan, the Raven Guard have dedicated their lives and souls to Tzeentch, the God of Change. Flesh follows desire, as bone and armour is moulded into wings and claws. Even before their Fall the legion was able to strike from the darkness, to end the battle before it even began. Now, guided by their powerful sorcerers, they manipulate the fates of whole worlds.

 

Origins

W
hen the infant Primarchs were scattered across the galaxy, most came to rest on worlds outside the bounds of the growing Imperium. The infant Corax, though, landed on a moon orbiting a planet that had recently been brought into compliance, yet there was no way for The Emperor to know that His lost son was already within His domain. The pale youth was found on Lycaeus, an airless mining moon orbiting the world of Kiavahr. Unfortunately, the Imperium’s presence on the planet extended little beyond a handful of officials sent to ensure that the ruling Tech-Guild kept up the flow of equipment and weapons to nearby expeditions. Lycaeus was a penal colony, with the mines worked by criminals and dissidents opposed to Kiavahr’s rulers. To be shipped up to Lycaeus was a life and death sentence combined, as the back-breaking labour, bad air and ever-present risk of cave-ins meant that life was ugly, brutish and short. Protests were quickly stamped upon by the guards, backed up with the ultimate sanction that if unrest ever became too vocal, the force-domes that enclosed the settlements would be deactivated and the unruly elements vented to open space.

 

The boy-Primarch was found by the convicts, who recognised something exceptional about him. They hid the child from the guards and named him Corax, or ‘the Deliverer’, so certain were they that he held the key to their salvation. This vision was shared by Corax, who from an early age had dreams of a vast, winged presence, a raven that guided him in times of trouble and spoke of a great destiny to protect mankind from its enemies. The first steps on this long road were to free the downtrodden population of Lycaeus from their brutal masters.

 

Despite the sickly surroundings, Corax matured rapidly to become a warrior of superhuman proportions. As he did so the convicts taught him all manner of techniques honed in Kiavahr’s criminal underworld. Tactics such as sabotage, misdirection, intimidation and assassination would be vital in freeing them from the iron grip of their jailers, and Corax put all these skills and more to use. It was clear that they could not hope to match their overlords in open combat as the only weaponry they possessed were mining tools and machinery.

 

Corax clinically analysed his enemies’ weaknesses and constructed an ingenious plan to bring about their demise. Through a subtle campaign of sabotage, Corax's followers steadily increased the pressure on the guards without ever drawing their wrath. The prisoner’s mining skills were invaluable in this, first in gaining access to restricted areas, and later to outflank and surround their enemies. A series of ‘accidents’ at the spaceport grounded much of Kiavahr’s small fleet of mining shuttles which saw the guards’ tours and shifts constantly extended as their replacements were trapped on the planet below. By the time Corax’s revolution finally ignited, the warders were exhausted, disgruntled and easy prey. The greatest threat came from the towering black mountain from which their overlords ruled the moon, but it too was neutralised when the defenders found their control of the force domes had been subverted. Their attempts to vent the rioting prisoners into space only resulted in their fortress’s blast doors grinding open and the force dome over the tower failing, flushing the guards themselves into space.

 

Incensed by the rebellion, the rulers of Kiavahr used their remaining shuttles to carry military forces up the gravity well. They fared no better than the guards before them, and were torn apart by Corax’s grim-faced rebels, made all the more deadly by the weaponry taken from their former warders. Finally recognising the seriousness of the threat they faced, the leaders of the Tech-Guilds called for aid from the Imperium to put down the revolt. Without access to their moon’s mineral resources the forges would rapidly fall cold, and the expeditions they supplied would soon falter.

 

The Imperial fleet arrived with creditable haste, heading directly for the turbulent moon, and after only a brief time the heads of the Tech-Guilds were curtly informed that the rebellion was at an end. When the Imperial flagship’s landing craft touched down at Kiavahr’s main spaceport, the rebel leader was brought out not in chains, but emerged proudly as a victor, alongside none other than The Emperor Himself. All assembled fell to their knees before the Master of Mankind, who proclaimed Corax as His son, and the man who would from that day onwards rule the Kiavahr system in His stead.

 

Cowed by this edict, and the legion of Astartes placed under Corax’s command, the now subservient Tech-Guilds were given the task of providing arms and armour for his new ‘Raven Guard’. Conditions for the miners were dramatically improved, and the moon of Lycaeus, now renamed ‘Deliverance’ for Corax’s achievements, became the legion’s home. The forbidding black tower that had been the symbol of the Tech-Guild’s power was reinforced and expanded to become the legion’s Fortress-Monastery, and named the ‘Ravenspire’.

 

It has been suggested that the great raven in Corax’s dreams was a manifestation of The Emperor reaching out to find him. Certainly, after father and son were reunited Corax was rarely visited again by this mysterious presence. At Ullanor, Corax famously asked his father about this phenomenon, but, ever enigmatic, The Emperor simply smiled knowingly.

 

The Great Crusade

E
ven with the power of a legion of Astartes at his disposal, Corax continued to follow the precepts with which he had been brought up. He trained his commanders to observe the enemy, to strike at the place they were the most vulnerable, and to cripple their ability to strike back. While some Primarchs used their forces as a bludgeon to bring worlds to compliance, the Raven Guard were the rapier of the Legionnes Astartes.

 

Because of this, the Raven Guard rarely needed to operate in large groups. Instead they spread themselves out across dozens of expeditionary campaigns alongside many other legions. Indeed, it is said the reason Horus claimed so many victories was because he so readily used the Raven Guard to crack open the defences of worlds, which his own legion then followed up and took credit for liberating. In other cases, though, the cultural differences were just too great. Corax had forbidden the creation of a psychic Librarium within his legion, and considered that the way the Thousand Sons’ embraced their burgeoning psychic potential bordered upon sorcery. He forbade the Raven Guard from fighting alongside them, and even spoke out against Magnus at his trial at Nikaea.

 

"Do not ask me to approach the battle meekly, to creep through the shadows, or to approach my foes quietly in the dark. I am Rogal Dorn. Imperial Fist. Space Marine. Emperor's Champion. Let my enemies cower at the thunder of my advance and tremble at the sight of me."

Rogal Dorn, Primarch of the Imperial Fists

[/clearfloat]The other legion the Raven Guard went out of their way to avoid was the Imperial Fists. Rogal Dorn’s distain for tactics he deemed dishonourable was legendary, publicly decrying camouflage as being “the colour of cowardice”. It is not clear if offense was intended, or if it was simply part of Dorn’s brash insensitivity, but in the wake of such pronouncements the Raven Guard saw fit to remove themselves from Imperial Fist led campaigns.

 

Despite this, the list of worlds brought into the Imperium thanks to the Raven Guard’s subtle application of military pressure continued apace. The Fortress-system of Sangramor had withstood the might of the Imperium for decades, but within three months of arriving Corax’s legion succeeded in isolating and crippling the system's rulers. With the planetary confederation fractured, the system’s planets easily fell one after another and accepted The Emperor’s rule. Their mastery of warfare was not restricted to battling human societies, either. When the Tanaburs sub-sector was threatened by a massive Ork uprising, the Raven Guard were able, through assassination and sabotage, to kill and discredit the most troublesome leaders without detection. The inevitable squabble for power stalled the Orks long enough for the Imperium to amass a large enough force to exterminate the Xenos threat once and for all.

 

With the future of His Imperium seemingly assured, The Emperor withdrew to Terra, but before He did, He called His sons together at Nikaea. Evidently Corax was not alone in his concerns over Magnus, who stood accused of pushing beyond the boundaries of the psychic and into the forbidden realms of sorcery. One after another Russ, Mortarion, Corax and even Dorn spoke out against their brother. Evidently the Raven Guard were not the only legion to have rejected Librarians, and at Nikaea the nature of psychic ability itself was put on trial.

 

On the night before The Emperor rendered His judgement, Corax’s dreams were again visited by a great bird. Rather than the comforting presence, it was troubling and elusive, an indistinct figure spied out of the corner of his eye. This disturbing omen presaged The Emperor’s decision, which not only allowed the legions, with certain precautions, to continue the use of psychics, but went further and gave significant concessions to the Thousand Sons. Magnus was to be personally instructed by The Emperor in the subtle arts of the psychic, and could pass this knowledge on to his legion. In return, he and his marines would submit to the Soul-Binding process. By merging their essences with that of The Emperor, it was claimed, they would be shielded from the horrors and temptations of sorcery. This compromise did little to allay the fears of the most sceptical Primarchs and led to bloodshed later, yet The Emperor seemed blind to the resentment it caused.

 

The Primarchs returned to their legions to continue the Great Crusade. Under Horus’s stewardship as Warmaster the list of worlds under The Emperor’s dominion continued to grow, but without His presence a sense of malaise set in. This found form when the Warmaster himself was struck down by a sickness, and was unable to respond to the stories coming from the Eastern Fringe that Roboute Guilliman, Primarch of the Ultramarines was about to secede from the Imperium. With Warmaster Horus indisposed, Rogal Dorn, in his role as The Emperor’s Praetorian, assembled a fleet sufficient to bring the massive Ultramarine legion to heel. Along with many others, the Raven Guard was one of the legions summoned in their entirety to the Istvaan system.

 

The Istvaan Betrayal

G
uilliman’s new ‘Ultramar Segmentum’ composed a sizable portion of the galactic east, and in their relative seclusion the Ultramarines had grown to vast proportions. To oppose them, fully half of the Legionnes Astartes had been called to the task, with seven alone assembled to strike at Guilliman in his forward base of Istvaan V. Though disturbed that it could have come to brother fighting brother, and worse, doing so at the command of Rogal Dorn, Corax approached the task with his usual analytical nature. His offers to aid in the planning of the assault were brushed aside by Dorn, whose own skill at siege-breaking was legendary. Corax was dismissively informed that Dorn would lead the first wave of four legions to make planet-fall. They would weaken the Ultramarines, while the Raven Guard, World Eaters and Emperor’s Children waited in orbit ready to strike the killing blow.

 

On the eve of the attack on Istvaan, as often happened at times of great turmoil, Corax's dreams were visited once again. As on Nikaea, the presence was elusive and did not reveal itself, but this time it spoke to him. Corax had been counselled by the raven countless times before, and so the warning that the legion faced a great disaster chilled him to the core. Corax’s journal describes the dream:

 

‘I begged the figure to show itself, to explain what must be done to avert this terrible fate. From behind me I heard a scratching of claws in the shingle floor and turned to see not the raven that had guided me in my youth, but a thing far more like a vulture in aspect. The creature spouted bile, hissing that The Emperor had forsaken me, but that the lives of my men could be saved if I denounced my father and dedicated body and soul to his God of Change.

 

I confess to be so revolted and stunned that I could not speak. Perhaps mistaking my silence for consideration of its offer, the thing came closer and asked again if I would betray my father. “Never!” I shouted, and pushed it roughly away. It reared up into the air, plumage flushing pale blue, and fixed me with its evil, malevolent gaze. In a sibilant hiss it claimed that I would run like a coward on the battlefield of Istvaan, and consign my legion to utter ruin.

 

I picked a stone from the ground, and pouring into it all my revulsion and anger, cast it at the apparition. It caught the vulture in one of its hateful, blue-filmed eyes, provoking it into a fit of screeching curses. Its final threat of “Nemo me impune lacessit”, or ‘No one attacks me with impunity’, echoed in my ears long after I awoke.’

Disturbed by the dream, Corax re-examined anything he could find about the coming battle to make sure that the prediction would not come to pass. At the final briefing Corax raised his concerns about the lack of visibility over the drop-site, but was mocked by Dorn for his caution. The Praetorian even portrayed it as cowardice in ‘not wanting to take to the battlefield in an honest fight for once’. Before this escalated further, Dorn threw down a sheaf of images of the planet below, taken, he said, the previous night during his unsuccessful visit to persuade Guilliman to surrender. None of his brother Primarchs would return Corax’s gaze as they filed out to start the attack on Istvaan V.

 

The four vanguard legions landed and reported good progress, and after what seemed like an eternity of waiting Dorn gave the command for the second wave to attack. Despite having scoured the images, Corax could find no fault in Dorn’s plan. An orbital strike was part of the Raven Guard’s favoured approach, so they took to their drop pods and ships with confidence, but even before they reached the ground it became clear that something was very wrong. They were targeted by ground fire far beyond that predicted, with jump pack equipped brethren cut to bloody shreds and even the lightning-fast drop pods meticulously blown apart by the Ultramarines’ defences.

 

Corax assembled the survivors, only to be set upon not just by the Ultramarines, but also Dorn’s vanguard legions gone turncoat. Stung by the prophesy that he would run like a coward, Corax assembled what remained of his legion for an attack against their betrayer, Rogal Dorn. Time and again the Raven Guard struck out of the darkness at Imperial Fist command positions, and yet Dorn himself was nowhere to be found. Certain that Dorn had finally been located, Corax appealed to the World Eaters and Emperor’s Children for support, only to find them making a fighting retreat to their rescue landers. Cursing his brother Primarchs for their weakness, Corax led the remnants of his legion in a forlorn, hopeless attack into the teeth of the Imperial Fist’s guns. Heavily outnumbered, they sustained hideous losses, but while their Primarch marched on, his men loyally followed to their doom. Finally, with only a score of his brothers left around him, Corax realised what his pride had done to the legion. He bitterly ordered the retreat, and the tattered remnants of the once-mighty Raven Guard faded back into the fog of war to join the evacuation.

 

With the Imperium alerted to Dorn’s betrayal, the three broken legions evaded the traitors and paused, before returning to their respective homeworlds to rebuild. Corax silently fumed, not only at the traitors but at his allies for not supporting his final, catastrophic attack upon Rogal Dorn. He was certain that if they had followed his lead they could have killed the Great Betrayer and ended his treachery there and then. This resentment only deepened as the true scale of the war reached Deliverance.

 

The Fall

N
othing was heard from the legion for some years after Istvaan. This in itself was not surprising as the entire Imperium was in the midst of a civil war, and the Raven Guard was ever a taciturn legion. When Imperial forces finally investigated rumours of dark goings on in the surrounding area of space, they found not just Deliverance, but also Kiavahr completely deserted. Even the force domes which retained the atmosphere around the Ravenspire were down, the great gates flung wide, and the Fortress-Monastery exposed to the vacuum of space. The account of what happened in that dark time has been drawn from what are thought to be Corax’s own words, although their accuracy, and completeness, are matters of much conjecture.

 

Corax’s journal tells that in his desire to rebuild his legion, he used the kind of accelerated zygote implantation techniques used in the earliest days of the Imperium. These methods had been abandoned for good reason, as the vast majority of the test subjects proved to be grossly deformed. Rather than dramatically increasing their numbers, it only resulted in the depletion of their stocks of gene-seed. The lowest levels of the Ravenspire were filled with slavering monsters that became known as the ‘Weregeld’, and their rhythmic, hypnotic hammering against their prison walls – like his shame – haunted Corax wherever he went.

 

At this low ebb, Corax’s dreams were again taunted by the daemonic presence. It did not speak, and only looked down in silent judgement upon him with those cold, dead, vulture eyes. The next day, as Corax walked the corridors of the Ravenspire’s vaults and happened to stare at one of the pitiful wretches penned within, he noticed the same vulture-like gaze staring mockingly back. Down the rows of Weregeld he searched, and inside each cell he found the same corruption of the soul looking back at him. Knowing what he had to do, Corax dismissed his assistants and went from cell to cell to systematically expunge his mistakes from existence. The rhythmic hammering of the creatures rose to a shuddering crescendo in the hour of the wolf, but by the dawn, it was at long last silenced.

 

The equerry paused before the inner sanctum’s door, his knuckles inches from the dark wood. The Lord Corax had wallowed in the depths of depression since the night of slaughter, shifting between raging anger and black melancholy. Feeling the calculatingly expectant gaze of the visitor at his back, he rapped sharply three times, and entered at the grunted response.

 

“My lord,” he said, “the honoured envoy from the Emperor’s Children has arrived and seeks an audience.” His Primarch stood before the window in finely polished power armour, but looked haggard, as though he had not slept in weeks. Receiving a curt nod, the visitor was ushered in. Rather than coming as a warrior in armour, he wore the simple white robes of an apothecary, overlaid with a tabard of soft, finely tanned leather.

 

On his way out, the equerry heard Lord Corax rumble that he had thought they had been forgotten after Istvaan, but then brightened, his voice filled with hope once more. As the door swung shut he heard the expectant, almost pleading words from his Primarch.

 

“So, Fabius, you have come to help me rebuild the Raven Guard... Do you think you can really do it?”

 

The full story of what happened later – of how Corax was deposed and of his eventual fate – is far from clear. The bloody raids that brought the Imperium back to Deliverance were commanded not by the legion’s Primarch, but a shadowy figure known variously as the Clonelord, Progenitor or even the Manflayer. Extant records such as Corax’s journal talk in glowing terms of an individual that had ‘solved’ the problem with the creation of new marines, although any reference of how this was achieved, or the identity of the Clonelord, had been carefully removed. As the Raven Guard’s numbers rose, so did Corax’s spirits. He took to training the new battle brothers and even wrote of taking a force to help in the Siege of Terra. However, this was eventually replaced by disquiet at the nature of his new marines, in particular their increased level of uncontrolled psychic abilities, and the disturbing methods used to create them.

 

After this the journal entries end, although further information has been gleaned from writing on the wall of a specially constructed cell in what would have been the Fortress-Monastery’s Apothecarion. The following was written in what was undoubtedly Corax’s hand, and indeed in the Primarch’s own blood:

 

“At first I thought I was still asleep; all I could hear was the same rhythmic thumping that has haunted my dreams for so long. Then I opened my eyes and realised I was truly in a waking nightmare. What I saw about me made the Weregeld look like beatific angels in comparison.”

It appears that Corax had been drugged and imprisoned by the Clonelord as both a vital source of genetic material, and a cruel demonstration of what his legion was becoming. Corax went on to describe, in painful detail, how the Clonelord went about perverting his genetic legacy, and repeatedly chastised himself for a wilful blindness of how his new brothers had been created. He told of the breeding of monsters, the forerunners of those who would go on to become all-too familiar opponents of the loyal legions. Through blasphemous rites their natural psychic potential was dramatically enhanced, turning the most skilled into sorcerers able to effortlessly manipulate the powers of the Warp. The majority were only able to use their latent powers to reconfigure their own bodies, and to a lesser extent their armour and weapons.

 

“For these abominations, form follows desire. Fingers mould into talons. Nascent wings are extruded to lift them aloft. The failures, and those unable to control the changes they invite upon themselves, become little more than amorphous sacks of claws and spite.”

The remainder of Corax’s writings become ever-more incoherent as imprisonment, realisation and whatever experiments the Clonelord subjected him to took their toll. The final marking, drawn in blood, was a simple representation of a raven.

 

What ultimately became of Corax is unknown. When the Imperium came to investigate Deliverance the door of the prison cell was open and no body was ever found. At first it was thought that rapid decompression when the Fortress-Monastery’s force dome failed had vented all of its occupants into space, but the rest of Deliverance, and Kiavahr were similarly deserted. The Imperium has recorded seventeen different instances of Raven Guard warlords and daemon-princes claiming to be Corax, but all have been discredited over the millennia. As the corrupter of one of The Emperor's loyal legions, much time and effort has gone into establishing the real identity and fate of the Clonelord, though after ten thousand years the trail has grown cold. No-one by that name has been associated with the Raven Guard since they fled Deliverance, although he could easily have taken another.

 

Corax loped through the shadows, slipping effortlessly back into the role of the terror in the dark. It was only a matter of time before the bodies were found and the alarm was raised, but for now he ruled the darkness. The raven, though bloodied and broken, had returned to him at long last and had purged his mind of the madness that had poisoned him. He didn’t even want to consider the deeper significance of the apparition's torn flesh and ragged plumage. Here and now he knew what he had to do. With the controls to the force domes and the Fortress-Monastery’s blast doors set and locked down – a repeat of his earliest visit to the tower - only one thing remained.

 

He caught sight of his prey, surrounded by those monstrous acolytes. Corax was emaciated, exhausted and unarmed, but he was one of The Emperor’s Primarchs, and still more than a match for the grubby little apothecary that had murdered his legion. Then the alarm howled through the halls of what had once been his home, and more of the creatures started to arrive. There was no other choice. Without a sound he scaled the wall the better to leap over the heads of the beasts and get as close as possible to the Clonelord. Whatever else happened with the force dome, however thorough it might be at expunging his mistakes, he had to end the life of the traitor no matter the cost.

 

Embracing his fate, Corax leapt.

 

Post-Heresy

Kayvaan Shrike - Daemon-Prince of the Raven Guard
Of all the Raven Guard covens at large in the galaxy, the most feared is undoubtedly that led by Kayvaan Shrike. He claims to have been born on Kiavahr, which the Adeptus Mechanicus have periodically tried to repopulate, and rose swiftly through the ranks to command the Subtle Blade Coven. His campaign to destabilize the Targus system, long a bulwark against the local Ork empires, reduced the million strong Imperial Army stationed there to a fraction of its former strength. Even the arrival of the Sixth Grand Company of the Iron Warriors could not halt this decline, who themselves lost more than half their number and three associated titans to the crippling Raven Guard raids.

 

The loss of the Targus system, and the subsequent Ork rampage across the surrounding sub-sector crowned Shrike’s ascension to daemon-princehood. His taunting proclamations that 'We are closer than you think, and our blades are sharp' strikes fear into what little remains of the Imperial Army in the area. What deeper reason Tzeentch might have for unleashing this tide of greenskins, beyond fomenting chaos and unrest, is unclear, but the High Lords of Terra themselves watch for Shrike’s next appearance with great apprehension.

I
n the wake of Dorn’s Heresy, the corrupted Raven Guard fled their home moon of Deliverance and scattered to the whims of the Warp. While many of the Traitor Legions gravitated to the Eye of Terror to craft daemon worlds in their own images, the Raven Guard rejected such stagnation and have never been observed to stay in one place for long. Instead they endlessly move from planet to planet and from place to place, following the unfathomable whims Tzeentch, their dark God of Endless Change.

 

Anywhere touched by their foul presence is never the same again, as crops grow twisted and insanity and mutation run rampant. Investigations by the Adeptus Mechanicus, Thousand Sons and the Ecclesiarchy have each put forward theories to explain these phenomena, yet none have been able to effectively combat the corruption. Purging the area with fire and sowing the ground with salt seems to be the only way to prevent further loyal Imperial subjects from becoming corrupted.

 

For all the many changes that their corruption had wrought, they retained their Primarch’s ability to cripple an enemy before they even know they are fighting. In the centuries following their Fall, the Raven Guard carried out raids on disparate targets that left Imperial commanders bemused. While they had been bloody and militarily successful, the targets themselves were unusual, leaving other, much higher priority locations untouched. Initially it was attributed to the inevitable insanity associated with the worship of Chaos. In time, though, it became clear that these small, seemingly unconnected attacks were part of something far more sinister. For instance, a chain of events that started with a small raid on a promethium refinery in Pinosa Minor has been shown, with nudges from the Raven Guard, to have caused the loss of the entire Jhadra sub-sector a century later.

 

Because of this, confirmed attacks by the Raven Guard are analysed time and again by Imperial commanders for fear of where it might lead. Sometimes the very reinforcements and pursuit forces requested to bolster a region pays directly into their hands, as defences around the legion’s true target are drawn away and left ripe for destruction. Such are the subtle weaving of fates the Raven Guard seek to engineer.

 

Of all the loyal legions of Astartes, the one with the best record of deflecting and thwarting the Raven Guard’s wiles are the Thousand Sons. Their psychic divinations have enabled them to set traps for the Raven Guard, to counter their sorcerers, and banish their daemonic allies back to the warp. This rivalry has led to titanic battles between the two legions, although many of the worlds caught in these aetheric conflagrations have been left as uninhabitable husks.

 

 

 

Recruiting

S
ometimes on their twisting path through the galaxy the Raven Guard choose to take captives rather than simply kill their victims. Among those destined to become slaves and sacrifices for their dark rituals, a few may be chosen to join the legion’s ranks. Given their eldritch powers, it has been postulated that they are drawn to claim those with psychic potential. Be it an isolated agri-world settlement or the depths of the underhive, it seems that nowhere is beyond their grasp.

 

Whereas in most legions the creation and implantation of new marines is the responsibility of the Apothecarion, in the Raven Guard this grisly duty is solely the domain of their sorcerers. The process is an abomination of warp-craft which transcends any mere chirurgical procedure. It wipes away the conscience and morality of the victim and opens them up to the God of Change, and in doing so unlocks their psychic potential. This horrific process unleashes an uncanny ability to twist flesh and armour so that, as Corax put it, ‘form follows desire’, and in the most receptive individuals produces psychics amongst the most powerful in the galaxy.

 

Combat Doctrine

T
he Raven Guard has retained the ability to attack without warning where the enemy is most vulnerable, and a favoured tactic is to strike under the cover of darkness, be it true night or a form of stygian gloom conjured up by their sorcerers. As befits their lightning-fast ambush tactics, the legion favours infantry over heavier vehicles. At the forefront of attacks are always their assault squads, who sweep in on sable wings before rending their victims apart with razor-sharp talons. In their wake come all manner of daemonic creatures spitting balefire and hate, and the grossly mutated spawns that can only be directed, if not controlled, by their sorcerer masters.

 

The youngest, least mutated marines are tasked with providing a strong gun-line to suppress the enemy. These brethren, whose abilities to transform their bodies and armour are yet to fully mature, fight instead with bolters and on occasion with heavier weaponry. An over-reliance on static firepower is rare though, and the role of laying down the heaviest ordnance is most often provided by the monstrous Annihilators. These abominations have willingly given themselves over to daemonic possession to enhance their natural abilities, and are able to transform their bodies and armour into a wide array of exotic weaponry. Be it a mob of Orks or an Imperial Land Raider, there is no target that these living tanks are unable to deal with.

 

How the Raven Guard are able to travel so rapidly between battle-zones without the aid of conventional transportation has never satisfactorily been explained by the Imperium. The most mundane theory has it that they have well-camouflaged transport vehicles away from the site of the battle. In recent centuries, though, credible reports have claimed seeing Raven Guard forces both appearing out of, and disappearing into, thin air. This could point to their ships possessing some advanced form of massed teleportation array, although the Raven Guard have only been observed to use the smallest types of capital ships. Given the power of their sorcerers, it is possible that this ability may be warp-derived, or, given their battles with the Farseers of the Ulthwé Craftworld, the Raven Guard may have forced access to the fabled Eldar Webway.

 

Beliefs

A
fter leaving Deliverance, the Raven Guard fragmented to all intents and purposes, and has never fought as a legion since. They broke into warbands called ‘covens’ and spread out to every corner of the galaxy to further their own vision of how best to serve Tzeentch, the God of Change. These missions are frequently inexplicable, and on some occasions have led them into bloody conflict with rival covens. With a great deal of hindsight and infinite patience, dozens of seemingly minor nudges at history by the legion over the course of centuries have been shown to have catastrophic consequences. Imperial scholars and strategos have spent lifetimes trying to unravel the greater meaning behind the Raven Guard’s actions, to as they say ‘unweave the strands of fate’. The Adeptus Terra conducts periodic crackdowns upon this kind of research, saying, with some justification, that such cogitation is to invite only insanity, and that no good can come from trying to know the mind of a Chaos god.

 

Organisation

R
aven Guard covens are led on the battlefield by their greatest warriors, although careful examination has shown that the true leaders are the sorcerers. As direct conduits to Tzeentch, the cabal of sorcerers guide their charges and direct them towards whatever incomprehensible mission they might be intent upon. The number of sorcerers in a coven varies depending upon its size and prestige, and the coven will sometimes split apart or merge with another seemingly on a whim.

 

According to Chief-Librarian Mieuren of the Thousand Sons, the success of a Raven Guard coven can be judged by its composition. Older, more established forces are composed largely of assault troops. Ones that have recently split off from a larger warband, or that have taken heavy losses contain more of the younger bolter armed marines that have yet to fully manifest their abilities to transform. According to Mieuren, covens rarely grow beyond a hundred marines in size – not including the attendant spawns and summoned daemonic entities - as their style of warfare achieves with lightning strikes what others would attempt with a massed assault. The number nine also seems to hold a fascination for them, with units composed of nine members being particularly favoured.

 

Because of the vital role played by the sorcerers to the continued existence of the coven, on only the most critical and sensitive occasions does a senior magus venture onto the battlefield. Usually lesser members of the cabal are sent in their stead, but such is the importance of even these individuals that they are inevitably surrounded by a cadre of brutal killers, summoned daemonic entities and the hideous results of their failed genetic experiments. Outside the cabal, marines are given respect based upon the extent to which they can transform their bodies. The monstrous Annihilators and the raven-winged assault squads held high above their younger bolter-armed brethren. Even the youngest initiates, though, look down in pity upon the amorphous spawn. These unfortunates have proved unequal of Tzeentch’s gifts, and in doing so have paid the price with their sanity.

 

... because of the nature of the targets the Culexus Temple was approached, who dispatched six of their operatives to locations throughout the Dortask sector. The Eternal Night Coven was finally identified on the northern continent of Argosa II, and Operative Dervlas Rykhart was rushed to the scene. On arrival, Operative Rykhart was able to infiltrate the Raven Guard defences and carried out his primary objective of executing every one of the coven’s cabal of sorcerers, but was killed while attempting to evade the remaining traitor marines.

 

The follow-up operation was delayed by a warp-squall, and when Imperial forces arrived on Argosa II more than a month later, they expected to find the coven long gone. While the initial settlement was abandoned, it was clear that the coven had not left the continent. Aerial scans revealed sixty eight shapeless spawn creatures spread out across the barren landscape, the exact number of Raven Guard that remained after Operative Rykhart’s mission. This supports Magos Karsarno’s theory based on observations of captured Raven Guard marines that the sorcerers somehow keep their brethren’s transformations in check, and without their presence they eventually degenerate in an uncontrolled manner...

Officio Assassinorum mission status report (Extract)

[clearfloat]

 

Gene-Seed

T
he shadowy Clone lord's perversion of the Raven Guard intentionally and irrevocably altered the legion’s gene-seed; not only was Corax betrayed, his genetic legacy was murdered. In addition to the usual methods of implantation, chemotherapy and psycho-indoctrination, the sorcerers of the cabal utilise other, more esoteric methods to create new brethren.

 

Many of the original implants, such as the Mucranoid, Betcher’s gland and often the Haemastamen are absent in the Raven Guard, while the intent of others have been changed radically, and completely new ones added. These changes, in particular the drastic alterations to the catalepsean node, are primarily focussed on enhancing psychic abilities. In true prodigies this leads to the creation of sorcerers of incredible power, and in time can stimulate transformational abilities in others. While the remarkable ability of Raven Guard brethren to grow wings may be due in part to a hyper-stimulation of ossomodula and biscopea, nothing short of warp-craft would explain the way that ceramite and adamantium can be re-shaped at will into razor-sharp talons.

 

Despite the seemingly infinite variety into which the Raven Guard twist themselves, one constant remains. Just like their tragic, betrayed Primarch, their skin remains white as snow and their hair and eyes are black as night. If this is an immutable part of Corax’s genetic heritage or a bitter, taunting joke at his expense, only the God of Change knows for certain.

 

Battlecry

D
ue to their chosen role in conducting ambushes, assassinations and covert operations, the Raven Guard prefer to silently approach their prey. Instead the legion’s motto is simply “Nemo me impune lacessit”.
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WOW! That Ravenguard story was magnificent! Well done sir. I was intially skeptical at the idea of Corax turning to Tzeentch, especially as you kept his anti-sorcery attitude and displayed that in the Council of Nikea incident. Yet you pulled it off magnificently, especially with Corax's mad ramblings, and his disappearance.

Well done and Encore!

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I'm glad this alternate version of the Raven Guard worked. :) Although this is an alternate timeline, Corax's distaste for sorcery and opinion of Magnus were the same in both universes. It seemed to make him being forced to witness the particular corruption of his legion to Tzeetch all the more piquant, and makes his final shot at vengeance all the sweeter. :)

 

On the use of the word 'treachers', it is a reference to the Rogue Trader era when the traitor legions were briefly also referred to as the 'treacher legions', with the associations to treachery. The word caught my imagination back then and even if it has long fallen out of fashion, I wanted to bring it back here. B)

 

By the way, I will have to give credit for Corax's mad ramblings to Ferrata, who was particularly helpful in setting the tone for this IA. :P

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