Once a sergeant of the eighteenth company's sixth assault squad, Arios was drawn into the ranks of our company during the flight from Terra. The sixth had emerged from the wastelands surrounding the Imperial palace, mere hours before Horus' demise at the hands of his cursed father, having abandoned the Phocenian's foolish hunt in order to truly test themselves against the golden ten thousand. Descending from the skies on screaming jet packs, chain blades howling and pistols spitting death, the assault squadron tore into the Blood Angels guarding the as of yet unbreached section of wall. The graceful IXth were but few and long wearied from the endless hours of bloodshed, nevertheless, the Sons of Sanguinis leapt to meet their hated foes, dark mirrors of equal grace, speed and skill. Fully half of Arios' command had fallen by the time he faced the crimson plated centurion leading the defence, crackling blue energy sheathed the Angel's paired talons as he strode towards the sergeant, roaring his defiance in a display of brute hatred at odds with the nobility of his blood. Plasma pistol bucking in his hand, hissing violently as the cooling systems strove to limit the blinding fury of the core, Arios turned to meet the advancing loyalist. His power spear long shattered, the sergeant now wielded a jagged power blade taken from the cold iron grip of a slain legionnaire wearing the sea green of Horus' legion. Pulses of orange lightning emanated from the blade's power nodes at regular intervals, almost as blood pumping from a molten heart, slowly coming into sync with the exhalations of its new owner. Swaying back from a wild sweep of his foe's lightning claws, Arios slashed his blade towards the Angel's visor only to find it expertly caught within the bladed fingers of the centurion's off hand. Desperately dodging around his opponent's blows, he sought to bring his pistol to bear; drawing an aim to his foe's head, his fingers tightened around the trigger. Seeing the build-up of cerulean energy rippling along the coils lining the Sunfury's elongated barrel, it was now the turn of the Blood Angel to swing wildly, claws making contact at the exact moment of energy release. A thunderclap smote the air as a blinding sphere of energy expanded rapidly from the sundered plasma core, hurling both warriors to the ground as if they were mere infants. Miraculously, though his armour ran like wax, Arios retained his arm above the wrist; his foe had not been so fortunate, fully half of his left flank had been vapourised in the explosion, whilst the vision slit of his MKIII helm had fused together, leaving him blind as molten ceramite sealed the joints of his armour. Staggering to his feet, Arios reversed the grip of his blade, plunging it into the heart of his prostrate rival.
Arios the Duellist, Reaver of the First Cohort.
Regrouping from the carnage on the walls, the sixth moved to assault a sentinel tower providing access to the interior of the defence complex. Leaping over the crenellations atop the tower, the warriors plunged into the installation, fragmentation and stun grenades booming and tearing through the flesh of the army troopers and servitors within. Charging through the corridors, the eight remaining astartes emerged into the central access way of the tower just as a battery of loyalist Typhon heavy siege tanks opened fire upon the now overrun section of wall. Even the mighty walls of the Imperial Palace could not withstand such punishment directed from within; huge blocks of ferrocrete tumbled dozens of metres to the ground, the second volley collapsed the structure entirely, crushing hundreds of traitor astartes and choking the air with ash and dust. Once again, Arios was able to cheat death, crawling from the rubble, his left shoulder shattered and right leg broken in multiple places. Moments later, word of Horus' death began to circulate through the vox networks of both sides and so began the traitor's ignomious retreat.
Unkown member of the First Cohort.
Arios escaped Terra on the same transport as the ragged remnants of our company, already the legions were fracturing and conflicts flaring as the unity derived from Horus' will melted away. Warriors of the IIIrd drew resentful glares and sullen looks wherever they travelled and it soon became prudent for us to stay together. Not long after, the lynchings began and the legion wars exploded.
Karas, Heavy Aural Operator of the First Cohort.
@hushrong Cheers buddy, the standard marine legs are just too squat, where as the Sons kits have some intersting poses, nice designs and also the better height to match with the Dark Vengeance bashes, which were my inital conversions for this lot. Karas, above, was the first member of the warband to be built in this style and convinced me that it had to be done! Painting-wise, it'll be the usual purple, silver and turquoise, with the odd splash of pink; they're about halfway done at the minute. I'll be sure to pick Fulgrim up, any reccomendations for 40k novels for them, I hear the Fabius books are decent?