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++ March of the Legions: V Legion ++


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Fresh from the ministrations of the apothecaries and whole once again, he flexed his new arms. They felt strong, fast, capable, but not yet truly his. Time would bring them to oneness. The greenskin that had severed them had died quickly, rammed by his jetbike. The techmarines had repaired and upgraded it to his specifications. The too-clean paint would soon show the marks of battle. The adapted stabilizer fins should bring him more speed.

Speed. He was Chaganvachir, the white thunderbolt, fastest of the scimitar riders. And he waited with excitement for the order that would spring the ambush. He would lead his brothers and sweep the greenskins from the field with the roar of the wind and the joy of battle. First blood was his.

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Of all of the Emperor’s Legions, none understood the nature of Astartes as the Emperor’s wrathful storm. Certainly all were capable of unleashing the power of it, but the Fifth Legion simply became it.



Gha’xian Jho knew this. He had witnessed it enough times. As the Falcon-Eyed of the Brotherhood of the Tempest, he saw it unfold before him on each battlefield that he stood upon. To be attacked by the sons of the Great Khan was to be caught up in a whirlwind of blood and thunder. The legion’s drop pods and landers would hit the ground in a deluge. Jetbikes flew around the battlefield, stirring up a great whirlwind of noise and heavy weapons fire. Blades lashed out and bolters rang in a maelstrom of war. His brothers relished the anarchy of it.



But as one of the Khan’s Falcon’s, Gha’xian Jho had a very different role to those of his brothers. He would not revel in the face-to-face, hit and run assault of the White Scars. He would not allow himself to become blood-drunk. The falcon selects its prey. It is meticulous and thorough; discerning where others swoop and squawk. It does not fight over carrion, nor does it work alongside its fellows to bring down larger prey. It simply chooses its victim, and strikes.



This was the task of Gha’xian Jho. Where his brothers had roles as the rain, the wind and the thunder, Jho was to be the lightning in amongst it all. The bright, sudden spark in the midst of the confusion. Sliding a custom bolt round into his master-crafted rifle, he selected his target.



It was said that lightning never struck twice in the same place. Jho had never needed to either.



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  • 4 months later...

In the grey half-light of the dust-shrouded dawn of Raltac Prime, ten ivory-armoured figures crouched. Amid the detritus of milennia of ceaseless industry, they waited. Patience was a hunters' virture, something that Ögter felt was often forgotten amongst his brethren. The quarry was closing, a hunt that had begun nearly thirty hours ago would soon come to its inevitable conclusion.  Ögter flexed his powered gauntlet as he regarded the stream of tactical data scrolling past his vision. As if on cue, the gun-metal slab of a IVth. Legion Land Raider rounded a scrapheap the height of a battle-titan, some 50 metres northeast. It churned through the rustpiles, the inexorable scrape and grind of metal on metal heralding the approach of another of its kind, and behind his reinforced faceplate, Ögter broke into a feral smile. The Iron Warriors vehicles rumbled onwards, and as the lead tank slewed into a northwards turn, the ten warriors of the Khaijl Bhaina sprinted forwards, meltaguns spewing doom.


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Pict depicts Ögter, Darga of the specialized Khaijl Bhaina. Tasked with defeating the heaviest armour, Ögter bears a suit of modified Mk. III battleplate, imminently suitable to ward off most close-defense weapons on enemy armoured units.

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In addition to targeting enemy armour, the Khaijl Bhaina would also accompany Vth. Legion boarding parties in void engagements.

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Like many members of the Brotherhoods, Ögter bears Chogorian glyphs in lieu of personal heraldry.
 

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