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++March of the Legions: XVIII Completions++


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March of the Legions



Month 3 Completions: The XVIII Legion




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Those who successfully completed the challenge for Month Three: XVIII Legion can now add this badge to their signature:



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Please only leave the five pictures from your completion in the XVIII Legion Challenge, and the fluff for you characters. Any other comments or text will be deleted. Thank you. smile.png


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Master Sergeant Kor'Vesh


Leader of the Bodyguard Phalanx of Lord Protector Numeon, the "Burning Blade", former Librarian Primus of the XVIIIth Legion


 


Selected from amongst the finest warriors and craftsmen their companies have to offer, the personal retinue of the Lords Protector stand as an embodiment of the principles of the Promethean Cult. Master Sergeant Kor'Vesh was in fact the Librarian Primus of the Salamanders prior to the Edict of Nicea, bearer of the title "Burning Blade" (which refers to his favour of the pyre weird) and sub-commander of the first company. After the edict, he was chosen to became the leader of Lord Protector Numeons Bodyguard (after the death of its former Master Sergeant Reth'mahan), and de-facto second in command of the realm of Hesiod. 


 


It is said that Kor'Vesh, although leading one of the Salamanders assault-formations against the Traitors, managed to escape from the massacre on Istvaan after a few hours alongside 23 other Salamanders, 2 Raven Guard and 4 Iron Hands via a captured Word Bearers' Thunderhawk. In orbit, they were saved by the frigate "Basiliskus" and fled from the Istvaan System, setting course towards Nocturne.


 


It is said, that Kor'Vesh became a darker one after the betrayal at Istvaan, an incarnation of his Legions' fury, re-using his pychic abilities and acting as Lord Chaplain Rythans' champion, hunting down traitors who dare it to enter the Nocturnean Realms. 


 


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"Revenge ... REVENGE? I'll show you revenge, traitor scum! I am fire! I am ... death!"


- Kor'Vesh, during the boarding of the Battlebarge "Karalias' Faith"


 


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Note: forged at the moon of Nocturne, the Prometheus sub-pattern is a modified version of standard issue Cataphractii armour, and was widely used by the XVIIIth Legion Firedrake Terminators, alongside the more common Tartarus, Indomitus and Saturnyne armour variants.


 


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++ Subject: Veteran Ben'tyre Shen ++

++ Status: Loyalist, XVIII Legion ++

++ Location: Deceased, Istvaan V ++

++ Time-stamp: =]DATA CORRUPTED[= ++

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Ben’tyre Shen fell to his knees in the dust, disbelief in his eyes, despair in his twin hearts. A mere 500 paces distant, the Primarch, his Primarch had fallen. They had fought day and night without respite, the Night Lords had been relentless in their assaults. The XVIIIth had suffered an extreme amount of casualties when the newly revealed traitors opened fire with their first barrage. The Salamanders had been assaulted on all fronts, and from within by presumed Alpha Legionnaires in XVIIIth Legion armour, from afar by Iron Warrior barrages and up close and personal by The Night Lords.

But now, it all seemed for nought. Vulcan has fallen. 500 feet of brawling melee, brothers and foe, wiped from existence in one massive barrage. Ben’tyre watched and waited, looking for Vulcan to rise. He did not.

Slowly, legionnaires on the peripheral of the explosion began to rise, beginning the fight anew. A flame ignited in Shen’s chest as a Night Lord began to stir before him. He would pay, they would all pay. Ben’tyre launched from his knees, up and into a run, he was onto the Night Lord before he’d regained his feet. Activating his power fist, Ben’tyre pummelled the legionnaires’ helm, blow after blow until the faceplate, and bone and flesh beneath was nought but ruin. Looking up from the brutality, two more Night Lords had begun to advance on him, smiling beneath his helm, he snatched a krak grenade from his fresh kill and hurled it at the closer of the two. Still recovering from the blast, the Night Lord took the blast full on in the chest, his torso disintegrating leaving his limbs to fall to the dust. Three rounds hammered his mkIII plate as the remaining Night Lord opened fire. Drawing his incinerator pistol, Shen doused the Night Lord in super-heated promethium, not enough to put him down, but enough to allow Ben’tyre time to regain his feet and charge anew.

He would not die this day. He would not cease until Vulkan was found, until not a single traitor stood.

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“You red eyed mongrels boast of mastering the flame. Now watch, poor Turga! The little Firedrakes consumed by fire... it's quite poetic, don't you think?”
- The one called Saevus, VIII Legion, Dropsite Massacre

Turga Ko'shtan, Captain of the 39th Company, XVIII Legion

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Turga Ko'shtan was once a smith's son who became one of the first Nocturnans in the XVIII. He eventually took command of the 39th Company, always found in the heart of the battle and known for not taking a single step back unless the order came directly from Vulkan himself. It was said that the line never fell when held by Ko'shtan and his men. This turned out to be true during the war on Liepa when the 39th for eighteen days was the only thing standing between the last free city and the assaulting slaver hordes. Ko'shtan was awarded the Drake's Head for the deed, fashioned to his chestplate by the Primarch. A less heroic side to the Captain was the sudden rages that often erupted like a volcano while fighting, something his men called “the wakening of the dragon”. He continued to serve the Salamanders faithfully for many years and was in the vanguard on Istvaan V, claiming the lives of many traitors as his company carved through Death Guard lines. The 39th was ordered into a retreat when the enemy unleashed chemical weapons and made their way towards the newly arrived reinforcements, only to be decimated in a phosphex bombardment by the VIII Legion's 26th Company. Driven by grief and hate, Ko'shtan charged the Terran pyromaniacs and faced their leader, Saevus, in single combat; the might of Nocturne set against a ruthless son of Albia older than the Crusade itself. He lost, the Drake's Head shattered, and Saevus forced the broken Salamander to watch his men succumb to the phosphex before decapitating him. Ko'shtan's head was taken as a trophy by Saevus, who after the battle added Dragonslayer to his many self-styled titles.


Pict-captures of Captain Ko'shtan moments before retreating

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The crossed spears of the 39th Company

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Takon´dwa


Captain of the 17th company XVIII Legion, The Grey Dragon of Skarokk


 


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Terran born and as stubborn as the ram he bore in the early year of the crusade, Takon´dwa served for many years as a line officer before he was forced to take command during the Taras campaign. Picking up the hammer of his fallen captain he and his company held the line against the Orks for three days until Vulkan arrived with reinforcements.


 


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When Vulkan announced the reformation of the legion Takon´dwa was skeptical at first but soon began to respect and love Nocturnian culture, and spending a year traveling between the settlements he learnt their ways. It was in the sanctuary city of Sarokk that he earned the title "The Grey Dragon" after taking part in a traditional drake hunting challenge. Competing against three other Astartes and a dozen veteran hunters from the settlement he not only brought back the largest drake, but one whose scales where as pale as ash. Gaining the respect and admiration of his fellow contestants for bringing back such a rare beast, they named him honorary member of Clan Sarokk and "The Grey Dragon".


 


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Tarok´dwa was last seen leading a charge towards Vulkan´s last know position on Isstvan V. His cloak was later seen decorating a World eaters Land Raider at the siege of Terra.


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Apothecary Ation, XVIIIth Legion Astartes, Salamanders - attached to the 8th tactical cadre, Realm of Epithemus

 

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“From the embers, a conflagration shall rise!”

Litany of passing of the Promethean Cult

 

This pict capture was recovered from one of the survivors of the Isstvan atrocity, known since as “the Dropsite massacre”. It depicts apothecary Ation and elements of the 8th Line Company entering the Death Guard Bunker Omicron-542, following in the wake of Lord Vulkan. Ation is shown in his MkIV ‘Maximus’ plate, heavily modified for his specialist role. His armour features the XVIIIth’s traditional apothecary heraldry, along with a number of more esoteric Nocturnean glyphs and the flames of the Promethean Cult.

 

Ation survived the Dropsite Massacre, but not before being forced to end the suffering of over one-hundred mortally wounded loyal brother astartes. With each gift of mercy, he uttered the litany of passing, a symbolic pledge to secure the genetic future of the legionary, and thus allow his flame to be rekindled. After escaping with Ancient Shar’rac Grenn and a handful of other Epithemians aboard a damaged strike cruiser, Ation is known to have become fixated with this litany. With speculation about the death of Vulkan rife, and seeing no way to fulfil his pledge to his battle brothers or his legion, Ation gave in to despair. During the troubled warp transit from Isstvan, Ation isolated himself from his brother Salamanders, spending all his time with the only two Raven Guard on board. Both were part of the XIXth’s large Destroyer cadre, and like Ation sought a new way to enact vengeance for their dead brothers. Ation’s fixation, coupled with the dark rites of the Destroyers, inspired him to look at the gene-seed harvested from the fallen. He began to craft a biological weapon to target astartes gene-seed itself, working first on that of his legion brothers, before tailoring his virus to attack the remains of Death Guard legionaries who boarded their ship in the Isstvan system.

 

Unfortunately for Ation, his ship was severely damaged and his small company stranded on Dominica Minor. When reports of the impending Death Guard invasion reached the company they decided to face their enemies and deaths, true to Vulkan’s teachings. Ation however, saw this as the only opportunity to deploy his contagion. He was last seen by his brothers advancing covertly into Death Guard lines before their initial assault, in the company of the two Ravens. While he was certainly spared the wrath of the Reaper himself, it seem certain that Ation and his shadowy companions were slain by Mortarion’s hordes, robbing the Imperium of three more loyal, but broken warriors. Whether his contagion was deployed, or such a weapon could ever effect the notoriously resilient Death Guard, we will never know.

 

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Thought I'd go for an early point in the XVIIIth's history: that moment, after years of secret training with the Emperor, that Primarch Vulkan was revealed to the Legion he would soon command...

 

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Pride in the Legion

 

Since my youth on Titan, I have longed to represent my home planet, to prove the resilience and strength of the children of the ringed world. I was recruited in secret into the Legiones Astartes, and when I learned I was to be part of the XVIIIth, my pride knew no bounds. The XVIIIth...the Saturnyne Rams. As the years have passed, I have collected souvenirs of my home and its symbolic animal, images and icons from throughout history to remind me of where I came from, and for what I would be fighting.

 

And finally, after long weeks and months, I will add my own work to my collection. It has been a labor, but soon I will bear upon my armour a fitting tribute to this, our Saturnyne Legion.

 

It is not my first attempt. With each iteration, I have waited for a sign, something to tell me that my work is complete. The sign never comes, and so I begin again, the old metal returned to the flame to be reborn. Yet something tells me that this will be my last attempt; that soon I will have my sign. I can feel it as I step back from the anvil, look down upon the nearly finished icon. There has been an air about the flag ship today that has nothing to do with our arrival in the Taras Division.

 

Outside my forge, footsteps approach. I hear the scraping squeal of boots as Orasus slides to a stop at the door.

 

“He found Him! The Emperor found Vulkan! Our Primarch is coming! He’ll join us after we reach Antaem!”

 

My shoulders sag in a sigh of greatest relief. If ever there was a sign that my work was compl…

 

"He's sent word ahead. He’s been going over our progress with the Emperor. After our next action, we'll be moving to the Nocturne system."

 

A new world for the Saturnyne Creed to flourish on.

 

Orasus leans back through the doorway.

 

“Oh, and rumor has it Vulkan is not a fan of the ram iconography. He wants us to replace them with drag…on...“

 

I can feel his eyes staring through me at the forge, at the masterwork which lies there.

 

“Oh… Um…” He looks at me. “Bad timing?”

 

 

 

I hear the XVIth is set on that whole ‘luna wolf’ motif. Perhaps a transfer is in order...

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Commander Na'vash of the Salamanders 3rd Chapter, 6th company stalked across the black sands of Istvaan V. His once pristine armour was scuffed and battered from the assault into the lines of the traitors, and the field on his storm shield was flickering temperamentally. The blade of his sword crackled as the blood of traitors cooked off its surface. He was in a black mood, and his rage burned hot. Bad enough that Horus and his whelps had turned their backs on the Emperor, but this cowardly strike by their supposed "allies" that had crippled the Imperial strike was nothing but an act of gross cowardice. He grunted as he slammed a traitor wearing he colours of Lorgar's accursed Word Bearers off his feet, the strike sending the marine pinwheeling away, his limbs spasming as the shock from the protective field overloaded his systems. With barely a thought he ran a World Eater through, letting the marine slide contemptuously off his blade. He had arrived on the surface via deepstrike with a full 20 Firedrakes behind him, and now only 6 remained with him. The wealth of equipment and experienced brothers he was leaving behind on this cursed world sickened him. A flash of light and a grunt from over his shoulder followed by another light blinking out on his visor told him that another of his brothers had fallen to the lascannon of an Iron Warrior. A scrum of Sons of Horus appeared before him, and he broke into a lumbering run, the fastest Cataphractii plate ever got. He hit them like a bowling ball, broken marines brushed aside and falling pierced by his blade, bludgeoned by his shield or trampled under his boots. His remaining brothers charged in, their hammers, making short work of the remaining whelps of the Archtraitor.

 

A voice broke through on the vox " Commander, Thunderhawk Nocturne's Fire landing at your position imminent. Prepare for emergency extraction. Over"

 

"Roger that," he replied, spearing another Son of Horus. "Firedrakes, extraction imminent, prepare yourselves."

 

The Firedrakes broke in different directions, clearing a space for the Thunderhawk to land. A few scattered loyalists managed to join the growing cordon, a thin line against the traitor masses. Downwash from the hawk blew across them, and the hammering of guns from above punished the traitors around the landing site, giving the loyalists precious seconds to embark. Na'vash was last on board, slashing a last traitor in the garb of the Night Lords to the ground contemptuously. He pulled off his helmet as he embarked, turning to spit a gobbet of acidic saliva onto the corpse of the last traitor to fall to his blade, his red eyes burning. The drop ramp lifted and the Thunderhawk broke for orbit, chased and rattled by traitor fire. Na'vash looked around at the motley crew in his dangerously overloaded transport, mostly Salamanders, but with the occasionally Raven Guard in amongst them. All of them were slashed and battered, looking exhausted from the fight on the surface. They looked to him for some for of guidance as the Thinderhawk finally cleared the range of the traitor guns. "We will have vengeance." he promised, before stalking to the cockpit to be appraised of the current status of the XVIII Legion. Grim, he suspected.

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Depicted here is Brother Ahn'Voresh of the Salamanders Legion.


 


Rather uncannily, Ahn'Voresh did not customize his panoply of war. It can be assumed that due to his rather recent elevation to the Terminator Squads of his Company and the subsequent Call to Arms at Istvaan V that he, in fact, did not have the time nor opportunity to do so.


 


Prior to his elevation, Brother Ahn'Voresh served in his Legions 453rd Company in a Heavy Flamer squad wherein he went on to earn many honors alongside his Brothers. Unlike his Sergeant and other veteran members of the Companies Heavy Flamer Squads, he was not elevated to the prestigious ranks of the Pyroclasts; something he perceived as a slight to his personal honor but would never openly voice.


 


Following his Sergeants elevation to a member of the Pyroclast cadre, he was again passed over for promotion when command of his squad did not fall to him. This drove him to further acts of foolish bravery and uncharacteristic bravado in an attempt to prove himself worthy in the eyes of his Companies Commanders. He would not have to wait long.


 


It was during a routine compliance operation upon a decaying and decrepit hive world that he and his squad, in the bowels of the underhive, came across long-forgotten and long-since insane biomechanical automaton; the origin of which can only be guessed at due to the mechanicums reluctance to share the details of their research.


 


Cutoff from reinforcements, Brother Ahn'Voresh and his squad were forced to fight a losing battle; their flamers only so effective against half-mechanical monstrosities. Data gathered from helmet pict and vid feeds of those present seem to suggest that Brother Ahn'Voresh devised a make-shift bomb using the majority of the Squads extra Promethium canisters. Using himself as bait, he set flame to the canisters causing them to catastrophically fail and bring the ceiling down on top of the pursuing Machine-Beasts only barely escaping the same fate himself.


 


Command, at that point, had taken note of Brother Ahn'Voresh subsequently elevated him to one of the Companies Assault Terminator Squads; within which he would make good use of the Increased protection afforded by the suit and the ability to wield with one arm his trusty heavy flamer and Power Maul.


 


He is depicted here in his as-of-yet lightly personalized suit of Cataphractii Terminator Armor, Hand-Crafted Heavy Flamer and Standard Issue Power Maul.


 


Pict captures place him as having been last seen at the Vanguard of the Salamanders force on Istvaan V alongside his Brother Terminators and Legionnaires. He was last seen at the Vanguard of the Salamanders Legion upon the surface of Istvaan V fighting valiantly against traitor forces; leaving a a smoldering trail of carnage in his wake.


 


Salie1


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Centurion Ashurn commanded a small force tasked with aiding Imperial worlds in need and were absent from the massacre at Istvaan V. Too small a force to oppose the traitors in a direct battle, he spent the Heresy commanding hit and run attacks to gain some measure of revenge.

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Sor'thir, the Vengeful Flame

Sor'thir was part of a small fleet far from the rest of the legion when the call to Istvaan arrived. So it was that the fleet arrived too late and was spared the fate of those in the first wave. Him and his brothers watched as the rest of the legion were slaughtered both on the planet and in space. The fleet barely escaped and eventually met up with other survivors and would go on to hamper the efforts of the traitors for the rest of the Heresy.

After the Heresy, he did not return to Nocturne to help rebuild the legion but joined other small bands in the Scouring to purge the traitors from Imperial space. Him and those of the XVIII that joined him fought any and all traitors they came across, but were particularly zealous when confronted by any members of the VIII or XIV legions.

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Sjorisar, he-that-is-called Temesgen

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And just as it was recited in the Woeful times, the same was told in the time of Stone. And just as in the time of Stone, it was told that what was eighteen would become divided in seven portions; one each for the cities of the Land. And the ram would be split into seven portions likewise, one each for the cities of the Land.

And the portions of the ram would be transformed into the spirits of fire. And the spirits of fire were giants. And the giants were known then as Salamanders.

– Folk-myth of the Acerbian sea-gypsies –


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'The XVIII Legion Astartes. Ah, what can be said of the sons of Nocturne? Humility. Nobility. Dignity. These three – perhaps alone amongst the Astartes – are the virtues of the Salamanders. And yet... what man could come to admire such devilish faces, such flashing eyes, such burning wrath?

Yes, better they become a warning. Better they become the devils in the dark.'


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+ inload decrypt: Non-standard occulobe endemic in VI, VIII, XVIII genesperm.
+ Intergration: Terran-descent 3%; Fenrisian 40%, Nostroman 41%, Nocturean 98%* [*failure of synth-join equatable to Legion rejection].
+ Analysis: additional tapetum lucida layer provoked; low-light vision improved substantially. Successful infra-vision uptake in all successful integration. Thickened layer reflects carmine eyeshine; substantially pronounced in specimens showing melanchromic reaction.
+ Additional: Nostroman and Fenrisian phenotype shows high integration, but low pheomelanin reaction reduces effacity and visual effects – consider failure/altering recrutiment?. Specimens exposed to Nocturnean spore photoproduct endemic to recruitment planet show semi-permanent cyclobutane pyrimidine dimer formation; <spec.> a result of selection pressures on local population? </spec> Formation is exacerbated by non-standard melanchrome of Legion XVIII; and inhibited to nil by that of Legion VIII. Breakdown of melanin chains can take upwards of two decades <spec. based on initial suggested trends> removal from spores.
+ Action: None necessary: psychological impact on hostile human populations substantially improves Compliance projections. Non-standard melanchrome renders XVIII Legion specimens virtually immune to low-level visual radiation damage. Casualty ratings substantially (ca. 3% lower vs. rad-phage weaponry) lowered; recovery ratings (ca. 17% faster) than comparable Legio VI/VIII specimens; lower only than X and XIV (both ~5/15% ~19% respectively).


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Remember Sjorisar! Hold him high in esteem! Pillar of Terra, strength of the Emperor, eye-seeker of reknown.

Remember Sjorisar! As we bathe in fire; as we blacken and smoulder; remember Sjorisar!

Sjorisar Spear-caster! His name be remembered for ten thousand lifetimes even as we burn it away.

Stand forth, Sjorisar Spear-caster. Divest yourself, step forward in the baptismal flames.

Gone is Sjorisar! Remember Sjorisar!

Stand forth, Temesgen! Stand forth fire-borne! Hail Temesgen! He-that-was-another-and-is-now-Temesgen everafter!

Hail Temesgen of Themis!

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My fire extinct, my forge decayed
By the side of my bench, my old vice is laid
My anvil and hammer lie gathering dust
My powerful bellows have lost their thrust

Hearts now cased in steel

To a blacksmith’s prayer I will kneel

 

Those burning sparks, they scorched the dirt
They lit the sky and fell to earth
I smelt and forged, fused and bent
I dug the core, now my years are spent
Hearts now cased in steel

To a blacksmith’s prayer I will kneel

 

- Traditional Nocturnean folk-lament, M31, origin unknown but believed to be

.

 

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"Some say Istvaan was a punishment. Others, that it destroyed all we hold dear. Yet the Canticle of Immolation teaches us otherwise. We face a test; a Time of Trial more difficult, and more demanding, than any other. It is right that we face this ordeal alone, without our father. For only through recourse to the inner fire can we forge a new Imperium from the ruins of the old."

H'shedar, Lieutenant, and last survivor of, 42nd Company, XVIII Legion

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Vespasian swung is hammer with the fury of the righteous. Helmets were smashed, breastplates burst and weapons sundered. He was the relentless retribution of his shattered legion and would know no respite. For every traitor he slew across the stars, he cried out, like an avenging angel of old descending from the heavens, " VULKAN LIVES! "

The end.

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Brother Kor'Nakh


Captain of the XVIIIth Legion


 


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The Captain picked himself up from the arid dirt. His ears rang and his mind swirled. The memories of the betrayal exposed just hours earlier returned and his chest began to burn. The sound of bolter fire sharpened his senses. He stood and looked around at his men. Armour blackened, trophies burned.


 


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He stood and raised his arm. Cleansing fire spewed forth and his squad joined him. The fire reflected in his eyes, echoing the fire burning in his chest. His legion broken, his belief shattered. The last real chance of rescue snatched from him.


 


http://i1145.photobucket.com/albums/o501/henrycoll/March%20of%20the%20Legions/4.jpg


 


He moved forwards in strong purposeful strides. The fire pouring from his right arm engulfing the traitors around him. Bolter rounds glanced from his pauldrons, tore the pelt on his shoulder. He felt pain, but cared not.


 


http://i1145.photobucket.com/albums/o501/henrycoll/March%20of%20the%20Legions/5.jpg


 


He reached the edge of the crater. Looking back he saw the remnants of his unit falling under the weight of numbers. From the wreck of the thunderhawk that was in all reality hislast chance. He saw his brothers' broken bodies scattered around the crater. The remains of several broken legions, their glory stripped from them.


 


http://i1145.photobucket.com/albums/o501/henrycoll/March%20of%20the%20Legions/1.jpg


 


He turned and raised his arm again; a click, but no cleansing flame. His fist crackled and he ran forwards to face his foe.


 


These were the last actions of Brother Captain Kor'Nakh of the XVIIIth Legion.


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Ferox Haster - Legion Champion for the Realm of Thermis

Terran born Haster is renowned as a savage fighter. A brutal fire within that is mirrored on his Primarch's home world. Vulkan has tried to temper this fire within the XVIIIth and Haster became a strong follower of the of the Promethean Cult. His focus was identifying the strongest challenge on the field of battle, hunting it out and destroying it. Although rarely seen uncovered, it is believed that he has taken on the ritual branding on the Salamanders to an extreme level.

 

http://i963.photobucket.com/albums/ae112/hammer_of_thunor/ab8ad2e10eaeab9cab1716d89b9f2024.jpghttp://i963.photobucket.com/albums/ae112/hammer_of_thunor/45916c45c892035d97b33703a29429a3.jpghttp://i963.photobucket.com/albums/ae112/hammer_of_thunor/e3baf759b4cffcc34fee050a220e13c4.jpghttp://i963.photobucket.com/albums/ae112/hammer_of_thunor/ed9d8aad3f01d3f5685490445107da51.jpghttp://i963.photobucket.com/albums/ae112/hammer_of_thunor/91369d009c5d1dd0548e980e8f747915.jpg

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