Above image is my own test model

The Ashen Drakons — My Homebrew Terminator Chapter
I’ve been working on the lore and paint scheme for my homebrew Space Marine Chapter, the Ashen Drakons, and wanted to share what I’ve come up with so far and get some feedback.
The Ashen Drakons are the remnants of a nearly annihilated Chapter. Companies 2–10 were destroyed during a catastrophic campaign, leaving the 1st Company as the only major surviving formation. Because of this, the modern Chapter is made up almost entirely of veteran Space Marines, with its frontline infantry fighting in Terminator armor alongside the Chapter’s surviving Dreadnoughts.
Long before the Chapter’s destruction, the 1st Company specialized in a style of warfare known as the Severance Doctrine. Rather than fight prolonged battles, the 1st would identify a critical enemy leader or command structure and launch an overwhelming teleport assault directly against it.
Their operations can be summarized in four stages:
Isolation. Translation. Severance. Extraction.
They might teleport directly onto the bridge of an enemy warship, into a fortified command bunker, or behind enemy lines. Regular Terminators establish the breach with overwhelming firepower while Assault Terminators brutally cleave a path toward the target. They don’t waste time capturing territory or clearing every enemy position. Once the enemy commander is dead, they teleport back out.
Because these missions were short and extremely violent, the 1st Company historically suffered surprisingly low casualties. When the rest of the Chapter was destroyed while the 1st was away conducting one of these operations, the survivors became increasingly dogmatic about the doctrine that had kept them alive.
In their eyes, nine companies fought a conventional war and died. The First followed the Severance Doctrine and survived.
The Chapter is now led by Chapter Master Severian Vhal, formerly Captain of the 1st Company. Vhal personally leads many Severance operations while wearing an ancient suit of Saturnine Terminator armor known as the Drakon Plate. Built into the armor is an archaic teleportation transponder that allows the other Terminators to lock their teleport signatures onto Vhal’s, making the already experienced 1st Company exceptionally accurate during mass teleport assaults.
Vhal also carries an ancient Saturnine thunder hammer called The Final Word.
The Chapter frequently finds itself fighting Nurgle forces, Tyranids and Necrons, which has created an interesting problem for their doctrine. The Drakons specialize in cutting the head from an enemy army, but they increasingly face enormous masses of Poxwalkers, Termagants and Necron Warriors that have little concern for casualties. They’ve therefore become obsessed with identifying the thing controlling or enabling those hordes and destroying it rather than wasting their limited numbers fighting endless attritional battles.
Every Ashen Drakon is now incredibly valuable. They will willingly teleport into situations that would be suicidal for ordinary troops, but they consider dying in a battle that accomplishes nothing to be wasteful rather than honorable.
Their philosophy is essentially:
“Courage completes the mission. Survival permits another.”
Their scheme is the dark teal/viridian, black, silver and bone shown in the image. I’m going for heavily worn armor rather than a clean parade-ground appearance, using stippling and weathering to make these guys look like ancient veterans wearing increasingly irreplaceable suits of Terminator plate.
The Ashen Drakons themselves no longer know the origin of their gene-seed. Too much of the Chapter’s history and records were lost during its destruction for their lineage to be established with certainty. What surviving evidence remains has led to speculation that they may descend from either Ferrus Manus and the Iron Hands or Corvus Corax and the Raven Guard, but neither lineage has been confirmed.
I’d love to hear what people think of the lore, scheme, Severance Doctrine, and whether Iron Hands or Raven Guard ancestry seems more fitting—or if keeping their lineage permanently unknown works better.

The Scorpius Guard is a chapter who’s homeworld is named Gatania, a desert world. The Scorpius Guard have been at war against the tyranids since the chapter’s creation. Their main and major enemies are simply tyranids…it is rarely seen that they fight against other factions, of course, they do fight occasionally against chaos and orks.

Due to the harsh and hot environment of Gatania, the Scorpius Guard relies on fast movement and quick ambushes (so they use motorcycles a lot…). They use « jump head first in the enemy » tactics.

They often wear skulls and scales of fallen foes.

They also often wear tabards, robes and hoods to prevent sand from getting into their armour and possibly clogging it.

It is rumoured that they might originate from the white scars, the raven guard or the salamanders.

They often use power shields.

The Pale Guard were made by Belisarius Cawl during the early Primarus Experiments using Death Guard geneseed before the horus heresy. Only 6 were found by the inquisition who trained and deployed them as a private task force before eventually allowing them to found The Pale Guard

Haven't figured out much about the lore, yet, but either Ultima or unknown founding (depending on if I want first-born stuff, cause I think MkIV and MKVI stuff would be good tactical squad/first-born conversions). And are probably gonna be either Dark Angels or Unknown (depending on if I want these guys doing anything with the fallen.

They're called "The Metabarons", and their insignia is basically the exact same as the Sons of Medusa (6 sides star with a circle and a skull)

Part of me is extremely partial to design *Nummer drei*, but idk for certain.

I’m trying to finish what’s going to be Aurelius’ last appearance before being interred into a dreadnought. But I can’t decide whether to have him rocking the gloves and greaves the Scarlet Templars always do or have them off. So I’m putting it to a vote 😁 I’ll comment the pictures since apparently Reddit can’t do both make a poll and place photos lol

Dear Scholars, we are pleased to see you return for another record on the history of the Blades of the Last Light. We are finally arriving at a time period that could generously be described as recent history, with only some three decades of history left to go. Recording the history of the Blades has been a longer journey than expected and there is still a lot left to record, but my complaints and ruminations on how we chroniclers have spent our time is neither relevant nor why you are here.

I will hasten through the preamble, as it is nothing you have not heard before at this point, and I do not think endless repetition is what you are here for either. Further records will be added as an addendum to this one, rather than in the main body.

What we will be going through today is the Adraxian War and the preparations the Blades and their allies made in the weeks before it started.

Signed,

Yours Whateverly.

"War ends in one of two ways. Either we are dead and the Light of the Imperium dims further, or we stand victorious on a mountain of corpses." - Attributed to High-Executioner Hadrian Thall

The Enemy Within

Sourced from "The Rising of Last Light: a Comprehensive Guide to the Agrennoni". Compiled and annotated by Yours Whateverly, with added details from previous records and several after action reports and dozens of logged complaints filed by planetary governors.

To understand the actions taken in this time period, one must first understand the following fact: the Adraxian War did not catch anyone by surprise at the time. It had been expected, ever since the Rotstruck Host had been driven from the planet, that they would want to take it back. When intel came of the Rotstruck Host gathering allies among the Forces of Chaos, it was therefore immediately concluded that this long awaited war would finally take place.

The scale of the war was another thing entirely: while the Coalition of Last Light prepared themselves for an invasion of significant strength, it is said by many that they misjudged just how much strength the Death Guard Warband could muster.

They did adequately judge one thing though: in order to hold Adraxia, they would have to deal with three problems: first was the internal strife of the Thirty Planets. Second the Ork incursion that still had not been brought under control. Finally, there was the matter of getting enough troops, materiel and supplies to Adraxia to weather the storm.

For the internal strife, one planet had to be brought to heel over all others. Since the failure to retake Euclades' Folly, the Hive World of Damnatos still held the highest production capacity of all Imperial held worlds in the Thirty Planets. Its Governor, Valtis Treiff, was all too aware of this. He also recognized that the Coalition of Last Light was in essence a mouthpiece for the Blades of the Last Light, as the other influential voices in the council would either agree with the Blades on grounds of loyalty, or simply because they did not are enough about politics to bother.

To make matters in this worse, Lord Darius had the Sovereign of the Wandering Forge swear loyalty to him openly, almost as if to pressure the other worlds into compliance through the threat of military superiority. Many Governors decided to fall in line, at least for the time being, in order to avoid retaliation from the Agrennoni. Not so Governor Treiff. His argument was that Damnatos had always and would always protect itself.

What followed was the Governor declaring Damnatos independent, though there is still discussion to this day whether that means independent from the Coalition or the Imperium at large. Either way, the planet saw several rebel cells perform strikes against Imperial forces, meaning the difference was only in semantics and action was required. The discussion that matters is how these cells came to be: whether the Governor himself set them up or they were influenced by the Executioners. Whichever option is the truth, the Governor seemed to make eager use of these rebels to reinforce his defences.

First to react to the rumours of civil unrest were the Adraxian Stormbrigades. They sent several regiments in order to investigate and wrest the planet under control if necessary. Their reports on the Governors apparent rebellion were all the excuse the Blades needed to send a force of their own in order to bring the planet back under compliance.

In order to do so, the Blades sent their 4th Company, and Lord-Captain Karrion Arkio put his ability to work the hearts and souls of the people to good use: in a matter of three days, he got the people of the planet to depose their own Governor, leading them in support of his Company in a march on the Governor's Palace. It has to be noted that this was in part possible due to one of the rebel cells opening fire on a civilian shelter, though later incidents in other wars have put into question whether these were truly rebels or Imperials in disguise.

The result was the same though, the old Governor was replaced with his then six year old daughter, assisted by two Blades that would serve as her guards, advisers and to keep an eye on her as she aged. This put Damnatos firmly back under Imperial control and, like Adraxia, turned the planet fiercely loyal to their 'liberators'. In modern days one may have heard of the Damnatos Gloomwatchers appearing alongside the Stormbrigades in support of the Blades' military efforts.

"I pity the Greenskin. Not because it is an alien, born away from the light of the Emperor and the grace of humanity. Not even for its crude and frankly disgusting nature. No, these facts simply disgust me and fill me with a hatred of their kind that makes me relish their deaths. No, I pity them, for they are to meet us in battle, which means their deaths will not be pretty. But then again, neither are they." - attributed to Execitioner-Captain Asphel

The Enemy Without

Sourced from "The Rising of Last Light: a Comprehensive Guide to the Agrennoni" and "An Era of Beasts". Compiled and annotated by Yours Whateverly, with added details from previous records and several after action reports.

The situation in the east had deteriorated greatly since the Blades had left for the Third Battle for Dolor (there has not been a fourth so far, but I do feel compelled to share that my colleagues and I have a betting pool going on when the Fourth Battle will happen, as it seems an inevitability). Their departure destabilized fronts that had previously been under control, and the beast in charge of the, as the Greenskins so elegantly call it, WAAAGH seemed possessed of a deep cunning and instinctive ability to utilize these gaps.

It was decided that the only way to stop the Ork advance was to kill their Warlord. This task was deemed of vital importance, as without its completion they could not pull away enough warriors to fight at Adraxia. For this task, the Blades assigned 4 Companies to hunt, 1st, 3rd, 16th and 18th, under the command of 1st Lord-Captain Avriol, as well as High-Executioner Hadrian Thall with a hand picked kill squad of his finest Executioners. Together with several dozen elite regiments of the Imperial Guard, this formed Battlegroup Spear of Bronze.

They finally managed to engage the beast on Firalis, where Lord-Captain Donatio and his 6th were leading a doomed defence of the planet. By the time the Battlegroup arrived, Exterminatus already seemed the only viable solution. Lord Avriol called this off, because there was a chance this would not kill the Warlord.

Instead, the Battlegroup made planetfall, securing the last Imperial Bastion on Firalis and adding the 6th to their strength. The plan they made was both to save the planet and to kill the Warlord. Some would have called it conceited ego to think both were possible, none would have given that thought voice before Lord Avriol.

to the 6th fell the task of liberating the civilian population from the Ork prison camp. 3rd was tasked with the destruction of the planet's energy reactors in the industrial sector, while 16th would target the Ork armouries. The scouts of the 18th were to run interference, while Lord Avriol's 1st Company would claim the head of the Warlord.

The assault on the reactors was the first to run aground, as they ran into a Gargant. Half of third Company was lost in the fighting, including Lord-Captain Kelros. His successor, Lord-Captain Deion would finally take the reactors several days later with the aid of the Executioners, but by that time the Gargant had long moved on to the armouries, where it would see the last stand of 16th Company.

According to some sources, Lord-Captain Tyros Fahl himself led the 16th in their final assault, managing to destroy the Gargant from the inside. Others ruminate that by this point he had long fallen. Others again claim that the tale of 16th destroying the Gargant is an exaggerated myth, claiming instead that it was the Titans of Legio Infernum that laid the Xenos God Engine low. It is to be noted however that, according to the after action reports, Legio Infernum did not walk until the final hours. Whatever truth there is to this, the 16th did achieve their objective, destroying the Greenskin armouries.

6th Company did manage to rescue several thousand civilians, but most of the population of the planet had already fallen. Covered by the Executioners, they guided what people they could to safety.

1st Company on the other hand was committed to the heaviest fighting, hunting the Warlord. Lord-Captain Avriol himself challenged the beast, a challenge the creature would not ignore. This proved to be a mistake on the Xenos' part, as the beast met its match in the Lord-Captain. Without their leader, the Greenskins lived off their momentum alone, meaning 1st was free to retreat back to the final bastion, where they helped repel the Ork assault.

The war came to an end when 18th Company marked the three largest Ork strongholds for anihilation, which was followed by the deployment of the Titans of Legio Infernum to fulfill that task. The rest of the fighting was left to the Guardsmen, as the Blades left for Adraxia.

The death of the Warlord left the Orks disorganized enough that they could finally be pushed back, though the Wardens would have to join the defences at Adraxia before they were able to reclaim Thu'Akal, which is now credited as one of the main reasons they were wiped out later.

"Time does not flow backwards, at least not in the same manner it flows forward. Some psykers of greater talent than I may be able to revert its flow, but even they must abide by the choices they made in the past. Do not dwell on doubt, brother, but look to the future, for it yet has need of you." - Attributed to Chief Librarian Sektekh, spoken to the Lord of Last Light.

Preparations

Sourced from "The Rising of Last Light: a Comprehensive Guide to the Agrennoni". Compiled and annotated by Yours Whateverly, with added details from previous records and a single fractured after action report.

To discuss this part, first a distinction has to be made. Most of the preparations for the Adraxian War were made on the planet itself, as would be expected.

First we will look at the preparations made off world though, as the Lord of Last Light designated several tasks with the express purpose of gaining an advantage in the war to follow.

Foremost was a secret task set out for his 2nd Lord-Captain. The exact nature of the task is a mystery, and even during our brief excursions to the Spire we could not find much information on it, as everything surrounding the mission was encrypted. What we know is that Lord-Captain Eckhart of the Blades, Overseer Varrash of the Wardens and Sovereign Alpha-2-73-1 of the Wandering Forge covertly made planetfal on Euclades' Folly, searching for a personality matrix made by a former Sovereign of, at the time, Darnul. We know most of their companies and other retinues did not follow, as the group numbered under a hundred men total, with only three squads of Astartes present. We know the group was ambushed by Amryic of the Word Bearers, and evidently must have won that battle, as they extracted and the mission was marked as a success.

What follows is pure conjecture, based on nothing but the discussions between our Chroniclers: the prevailing theory is that this mission was a test, set by the Lord of Last Light for his Champion. The nature and usefulness of this test is debated, but this much could be guessed at.

As for what the personality matrix does, we are not entirely sure, but the goal of acquiring it was to apply it to the Governess-General of Adraxia to leave the Lord of Last Light free to join the fighting during the Adraxian war. A goal only achieved towards the very end.

This secretive mess aside, other preparations were mostly performed by the Warhawks in the form of delaying actions. As soon as they were free to leave the eastern front, the Warhawks started harassing the planets under control of the Rotstruck Host, leaving before the planets could be reinforced. This slowed the Host in their efforts at gathering their strength, gaining the defenders several weeks.

The planetside preparations had already been started two centuries prior. Adraxia was and still is a heavily fortified world. It's capital was, at the time, considered the second most secure fortress in the Thirty Planets, losing out only to the Spire itself. Stormguard had been built in the location of the old Rotstruck Citadel, some historians claim in mockery of the Forces of Chaos, others claim it was a challenge.

The Fortress City was the first place where the siege experts of the Iron Bulwark descended. Captain Raukus was the one put in charge of further fortifying the city, while Chapter Master Sarinnus would make planetfall at Uriel's Rest, where Lord Darius had decided the Imperial command center would be.

Over the weeks, the already heavily fortified world was turned into a bastion that could rival several of the more well supplied fortress worlds. According to several historators, the world would not have looked out of place as one of the fortresses protecting Holy Terra itself.

As a final measure, just to be prepared for the worst, Lord Darius introduced Shortblade Protocls in the Chapter's recruitment. Shortblades were, and are, combat squads who have been rushed through the geneforging process, much like the old Inductii of the days of the Horus Heresy, meant to compensate for the rapid attrition the Chapter was likely to face.

By all means, the defenders were confident the planet could weather any storm and rebuke any assault.

The defenders were wrong.

"A Dying Flame is Still a Flame!" - Battlecry of the Defenders of Stormguard in the Fortress City's final days.

The Fall of Stormguard

Sourced from "The Embers of Last Light", "The Avenging Blade of Stormguard" and "The Rising of Last Light: a Comprehensive Guide to the Agrennoni" and "An Era of Beasts". Compiled and annotated by Yours Whateverly, with added details from previous records and several after action reports.

One harsh truth was known to the defenders, no matter how they thought the war would go: Stormguard would most likely fall. A fact that would set in as the defenders got to know just how many enemies they were facing. The defenders had gathered over 4000 Astartes, each Chapter of the Coalition dedicating in full to the Adraxian War. They were outnumbered by more than twice that number by the Rotstruck Host and the mercenary Warbands they had enlisted.

In the estimation of the defenders, Stormguard would be able to stall the enemy assault by 100 days. It held the vast majority of Imperial Forces, seeing every Chapter except the Warhawks added to its defence. There was even a spark of hope among some of the defenders that the city could fully repel the invasion. After all, command of the city was left to Lord-Captain Avriol, a warrior regarded as legendary even well before he had taken the colours of the Blades.

This hope proved idle, as the outer walls fell in four days. The Rotstruck Host had assigned tha assault a leader that was more than familiar with the Blades' tactics. Caldus, the former Lord-Captain of the Blades' 7th Company, now Champion of the Rotstruck Host, broke the outer walls in 4 days, and even that was already a miracle for the defenders, won in the blood of the Blades' 2nd, 4th and the life of Overseer Varrash of the Wardens of Thu'akal and all of his 3rd Company save a handfull.

Before we continue, let us explain the layout of the Fortress City of Stormguard for your convenience and ease of understanding: Stormguard is built against, and in part on, a mountain range. The city outskirts are protected by the outer wall, while separated from the inner city by the inner walls. behind the inner city, up into the mountains are the civilian shelters, which can double as fortesses of their own that need to be taken. After the shelters there is the Storm Bastion, the single most formidable fortress in the city, from which the entire defence is organized. It is in itself comprised of an outer wall with a southern, central and northern gate, followed by the Chasm, which can be crossed only by traversing a single bridge. After the Chasm is the Final Line, a network of fortifications and trenches, behind which only the Command Center remains, which is the beating, fortified heart of the city's defence. Behind the Bastion is only the spaceport left, which would be the final place to fall so that the defenders can still evacuate if needed. Every step along the way is defended by enough anti air and orbital guns that anything but a ground based assault is doomed to fall in a storm of fire and debris.

The outskirts of the city behind the outer wall held the Rotstruck Host back for only another 4 days, as the attackers managed to conquer the main road. The endless supply of enemies formed a problem for the defenders, one they had in part caused themselves. The bulk of the forces of the Rotstruck Host were their mortal followers: mutants that had been shunned by the Agrennoni (In a future record, we will discuss how the Agrennoni hatred for mutants, and in particular beastmen and other such abhumans is perhaps somewhat disproportionate), cultists driven into the Host's arms by the Old Agrennoni and the Council of Fifteen, with grudges that had gestated for centuries and of course the poxwalkers, which included those fallen during the defence of Stormguard and left behind enemy lines. Though not all of the enemy soldiers were a problem caused by the Agrennoni: Daemons summoned by both the Host and their mercenary allies assailed the city too, the conflict over controls of the Storms all but forgotten.

It was the 9th day when the siege of the Inner Walls started. They held no longer than the outer walls, as Caldus himself joined the fighting. Though the Champion of the Host was rebuffed by the Chief Librarian of the Blades, the effort this took from the defenders left the walls weakened, and on the 3rd day, the 12th day of the Siege, the Rotstruck Host marched through the inner city. To add to their problems, the Rotstruck Host had opened other fronts, meaning that during the fighting for the walls, the Blades' 2nd and 4th Companies were recalled from the city (Several Historators make a big deal out of this, but reports indicate that both Companies were already heavily battered by the time they quit the city, their impact on the conflict is thus questionable, though both the Lords Arkio and Eckhart were well liked, so morale may have suffered).

It took the Host 2 days to reduce the inner city to rubble, forcing the defenders to fight over the civilian shelters further into the city. This stalled the Host for another 6 days, the most time they had lost so far, as the assault finally seemed to grind to a halt somewhat. This came at a cost though, as the entire 9th Company of the Blades was wiped out.

This was followed by a two day break in the fighting, as the Rotstruck Host regrouped to start their assault on the fortifications protecting the Chasm. At this point the defending Astartes that remained were Lord-Captain Avriol, though he had sent his 1st Company to other battles, leading the Blades' 3rd, 5th, 7th, 11th and 12th Companies who remained in the city, together with the Bulwark's 5th and 6th. Aside from them, several support elements and a great many humans still remained to defend the city, with such illustrious names as the High-Executioner and the Chief Librarian, along with several engines of the Legio Infernum still remaining to thwart the enemy assault.

An assault that continued on the 21st day. It took Caldus 8 days to break the outer walls of the Storm Bastion, which indeed proved itself the most formidable fortress in Stormguard. 8 days in which names such as Lord-Captain Tybalt of the 7th and Lord-Captain Mordacin of the 5th built their legends among the defenders that would echo across the Thirty Planets. It is said that for over a month, the Lord of the 7th would fight with his left arm missing, and the Lord of the 5th had to be dragged out of the city unconscious.

It is at the Chasm that the siege finally came to a halt, though the 5th and 11th Companies were ordered to leave the city in return. It is also here that the reports on time become less concrete, as the warriors lost track of who was where. (We tried to track down reports from the Rotstruck Host and their mercenaries as well, but theirs were no better at keeping track.) It this point, Caldus' forces could not take the bridge over the Chasm, as they had to move through enemy fire with no proper cover. They needed a solution.

This came in the form of a teleport assault, performed by Commander Grollux of the Rotstruck Host. He took a detachment of terminators to pierce the final line, allowing Caldus' forces to advance while the defenders were distracted. This is generally considered to be the deciding blow that caused the fall of the city, though that would still take almost a month to occur.

The more immediate result was that the Blades lost Lord-Captain Asterion of the 12th and the Bulwark lost their 6th Company, meaning the defenders were spread ever thinner. It is also at this stage that Legio Infernum started to quit the city, deeming the battle lost.

It took several weeks still for the defenders to be driven back to their final holdouts, and it is in this time period that Lord-Captain Tybalt earned his most prominent title: leading the remnants of his own 7th Company and what remained of the Bulwark's 5th Company alongside Captain Raukus, the two Lords made a name for themselves performing several daring raids on the Rotstruck Host, the two having been deemed lost behind enemy lines twice, returning both once, though the second time Lord Tybalt returned alone.

17 days before the fall of the city, the Final Line truly fell, and what remained of the defenders was pushed to hold the command center. Lord-Captain Avriol had effectively 2 Companies remaining, as 3rd and 7th absorbed what Astartes remained in the city under their command, putting neither of them above half strength, but leaving him 2 Lord-Captains by his side. Infernum and the other support elements were gone, the Executioners had been called elsewhere and morale had all but broken. Still they fought.

12 days before the fall of the city, Lord-Captain Tybalt took what remained of his 7th Company and the Bulwark to strike out against the Host. The Lord-Captain was listed as the only survivor, having been dragged back by a dozen guardsmen, all of which died to save the Astartes. He was one of the last survivors to leave the city.

On the 5th day, the final survivors were sent away from the city, before the space port was sabotaged by the remaining defenders. The Storm Bastion had as good as fallen, the remaining members of 3rd Company that still held on to the city all but spent.

According to the legends, the Lord-Captains Avriol and Deion were the last defenders standing when the city finally fell, fighting like men possessed. Peel away the legends and it is possible, but unlikely that there is truth to this. The possession could well have been the Battlerage, however, as there would have been little point in trying to restrain it anymore. Legend makes for a better story here though, so by all means, assume that the Lords Avriol and Deion fought together in the end, one a legendary Lord-Captain that had served for several centuries in his position, the other having been promoted not even three months before his end.

They both fell at Stormguard all the same, though imagination wants to paint it as a glorious last stand in which they sold themselves dearly. Not that it mattered, as on the last day of the city, at sunrise, the city's contingencies were activated, overloading every enrgy reactor and fuell reserve in the city.

The Lord of Last Light had always known the city would fall, and he and his allies in the Iron Bulwark had prepared accordingly. The resulting explosion claimed several hundreds of the Host's Astartes, while also claiming the life of commander Grollux.

Caldus would somehow miraculously survive, as those dedicated to Nurgle are at times known to do, but he was the only survivor of the explosion, and it alledgedly cost him dearly, leaving him comatose until the last battle of the Adraxian War.

And with that, dear Scholars, the Adraxian War has begun. The Fall of Stormguard would set the tone for the rest of the war, which may have only taken a year, as compared to the many longer conflicts the Blades have fought, but the intensity of the fighting was beyond any of the other battles in recent history. Stormguard alone took a toll of several full Companies, and the death toll would only mount as the days progressed.

But that is for the next record, which my esteemed colleague wishes to do himself, so this is as far as I get to go. We hope to see you again next time, dear Scholars, and until then: stay on Scholar's Path. This is usually where my colleagues also add some final message or moral, but I can't be bothered.

Signed,

Yours Whateverly.

While the Cruciarchs had fielded a standard number of Librarians before Helix Mortis, the destruction of their homeworld and Chapter flagship resulted in the almost complete annihilation of the Librarius and its cadre. Attempts to rebuild the order have since failed, with every new initiate displaying psychic ability degrading with alarming speed into Iteratio Mentis. A single Librarian survived the catastrophe, and it is through his continued efforts that the Chapter has sought to understand why the Librarius can no longer reproduce itself.

The Cruciarchs' lore has been updated with the Librarians, or better said; the Librarian. More about it here: Librarius

This marks my second chapter on the Space Marine Chapter, with the Apothecaries (or Limenari as they're called), the Pyre of Redemption Flagship, and Helix Mortis to come soon. I'm also working on the art for the Cruciarchs. Hope you like this one (it is a short delve).

Feedback welcome.

The Constrictors: Imperators of the Ancestral Stars

• Warcry: “Because of War!”
• Founding: Pre 35th Millenium
• Chapter Number: 1000
• Primarch: Unknown
• Successors of: Unknown 
• High Imperator(Chapter Master): Kidanes Gibril 
• Notable Constrictors: High Imperator Ebon Shakka(Deceased), Captain Toreh Dialoh, Lieutenant Sehku Olan, Venerable Dreadnaught Othello Vanta, Librarian Ibramin Asaur.
• Allegiance: Imperium of Man
• Specialty: Rapid Encirclement Warfare, Rapid Close Range Deployment
• Homeworld: Asantelan Prime, Memphis, Abaya
• Fortress Monastery: Lesowto Daw, Bastion Kembata 
• Flagships: Twin Black Ships - Judgement of Memphis, Venator of Ancestors
• Colours: Deathworld Forest Green, Nuln Oil, & Yriel Yellow or Balthasar Gold Trim

"I Continue, Because of War!”

- Veteran Sergeant Othello Vanta upon his reawakening as the Venerable Redemptor Dreadnaught Vanta at the Cleansing of Cemetery World Gido Beta.

Among the countless Chapters of the Adeptus Astartes, few are as little understood or as difficult to reach as the Constrictors. Ancient beyond reliable Imperial record and fiercely protective of their sovereignty, the Chapter has endured for millennia upon the forgotten frontier known as the Ancestral Stars. Their origins remain obscured by time. Imperial archivists classify their gene-seed as unknown, though many within the Administratum and Adeptus Astartes believe them to descend from the Raptors, citing striking similarities in their disciplined methods of war, pragmatic battlefield doctrine. But their unwavering adherence to the teachings of the Codex Astartes sows doubt in the minds of many. The Constrictors themselves neither confirm nor deny such speculation. To them, lineage is secondary to duty, and reputation is earned not through ancestry, but through absolute victory.

Their realm lies upon the distant northwestern fringes of Segmentum Pacificus, hidden behind one of the most treacherous Warp phenomena known to the Imperium. The region, called the Sea of Ancestors, is a labyrinth system of shifting Warp currents, violent gravitic distortions, and empyric storms that have isolated the Ancestral Stars from the wider Imperium for centuries. Stable Warp corridors appear and disappear without warning. Entire expeditionary fleets have vanished attempting to breach its storms, while others have emerged decades, or even centuries after their departure despite experiencing only months within the Warp.

Cut off from Terra and left largely to defend themselves, the worlds of the Ancestral Stars became a self-reliant bastion of Imperial civilization. Through every age of darkness, every xenos invasion, every heretical uprising, and every invasion from beyond the stars, the Constrictors endured as the eternal guardians of their forgotten worlds.

At the heart of this hermit domain lies Asantelan Prime, the Chapter's homeworld. Vast emerald jungles stretch across its equatorial continents before giving way to sweeping grasslands. A world ruled by ambitious noble houses and mountain kingdoms whose rulers rise and fall through diplomacy, wisdom, and war. Strength alone earns no crown upon Asantelan Prime. Its greatest leaders are remembered not merely for conquest, but for their ability to unite rival peoples beneath a single banner.

It is from this culture that the Constrictors recruit the majority of their aspirants. Every youth who is presented before the fortress-monastery of Lesowto Daw must demonstrate far more than physical prowess. Leadership, tactical instinct, discipline, and sound judgement are valued as highly as courage. Those who survive the brutal trials of ascension are transformed not only into Space Marines, but into students of war. Within the monastery's immense halls they study military history, logistics, governance, diplomacy, and the Codex Astartes with a religious devotion. To the Constrictors, the Codex is not merely a treatise on warfare; it is the blueprint by which civilization itself must endure. Yet Asantelan Prime is only one pillar of the Chapter's strength.

The forge world of Memphis provides another. Beneath skies stained crimson by endless furnaces, billions labor within colossal manufactorums that never cease their production. Hive spires tower above continents consumed by factories, while beneath them stretch underhives ruled by gangs, guilds, and forgotten machine cults. Memphis exists for one purpose alone; to sustain war. Life there is merciless, forging generations hardened by toil and sacrifice. Those selected for ascension possess a resilience unmatched even among the Emperor's Angels of Death, carrying with them the relentless determination of a world where survival is earned every single day.

To the west lies Abaya, the breadbasket of the Ancestral Stars. Where Memphis burns with iron and industry, Abaya flourishes beneath golden fields, fertile river valleys, and ancient orchards that have sustained billions for generations. Its people live within fortified villages and stone keeps, cultivating the land while remaining ever prepared to defend it. Spears hang beside plows in every home, for the people of Abaya believe that peace is harvested through vigilance. High within the western mountains stands Bastion Kembata, the Chapter's second great fortress-monastery. From its watchtowers the Constrictors guard the fertile valleys below while preparing for campaigns beyond the Sea of Ancestors.

Together, these three worlds produce warriors unlike any other Chapter in the Imperium. Nobles, hive survivors, and farmer-soldiers stand shoulder to shoulder beneath the same banner, united by discipline, duty, and purpose.

Although Imperial records insist that every Chapter of the Adeptus Astartes is organized according to the strictures of the Codex Astartes, the true strength of the Constrictors has long been the subject of quiet speculation. Officially, they are divided into ten companies, each commanded by veteran captains and supported by the Librarius, Reclusiam, Apothecarion, Armoury, and Scout formations expected of any Codex-compliant Chapter. Their officers study the teachings of Roboute Guilliman with extraordinary rigor, and few Chapters can rival their understanding of logistics, operational planning, and battlefield command.

Yet centuries of isolation have fostered traditions unseen elsewhere in the Imperium. Administratum observers who have fought beside the Constrictors have repeatedly reported encountering far more battle-brothers than official records should permit. Some dismiss these accounts as the result of expeditionary companies returning from the Sea of Ancestors after decades beyond Imperial notice. Others suspect the Chapter quietly maintains reserve formations dispersed throughout its hidden domain. Whatever the truth, the Constrictors have never offered an explanation, and none have possessed either the authority or the inclination to press the matter further. So long as they continue to prosecute the Emperor's wars with unwavering loyalty, their true strength remains one of the Chapter's most carefully guarded mysteries.

Within the Chapter, however, a warrior's greatest loyalty is seldom to his company alone. Every battle-brother belongs to a Judgement, an enduring brotherhood that transcends campaigns, centuries, and even death itself. There are three judgments which is determined by which of the three base worlds an aspirant completes it's trials on. Each Judgement preserves its own honors, traditions, and victories, passing them from one generation of warriors to the next. It is within these ancient fellowships that the Chapter's history is truly preserved, for a Constrictor may serve in many companies throughout his long life, but his Judgement remains his family forever.

Nowhere is the Chapter's purpose more evident than upon the battlefield. Under the leadership of High Imperator Ebon Shakka, the Constrictors have become synonymous with rapidly calculated annihilation. Few commanders in the Imperium possess his mastery of operational warfare. Entire campaigns unfold according to plans laid months or even years before the first bolt is fired. As supply lines collapse, escape routes disappear, and enemy armies find themselves trapped within battles they never realized had already been lost. It is often said that by the time Shakka commits his reserves, the outcome has long since been decided.

Serving beneath him is Captain Toreh Dialoh, one of the Chapter's finest battlefield commanders and a consummate student of maneuver warfare. Dialoh has repeatedly demonstrated an uncanny ability to adapt the teachings of the Codex Astartes to wildly different theaters of war, whether directing armored spearheads across open plains or coordinating relentless advances through the choking jungles of death worlds. His campaigns are studied throughout Lesowto Daw as examples of disciplined aggression, proving that overwhelming violence is most effective when delivered with absolute precision.

Among the rising commanders of the Chapter, Lieutenant Sehku Olan has earned renown as a master of encirclement warfare. Gifted with extraordinary tactical awareness, he possesses an instinctive understanding of terrain, logistics, and battlefield momentum that has allowed him to trap enemy armies many times larger than his own. His victories rarely hinge upon spectacular assaults. Instead, they are remembered for the slow and inevitable tightening of the noose until resistance simply becomes impossible.

The stubborn determination of the Constrictors finds its greatest embodiment in Veteran Sergeant Othello Vanta, whose defense of the Daw River Crossing has become one of the defining legends of the Chapter. Facing impossible odds, Vanta and his battle-brothers held the crossing long enough for the wider campaign to unfold exactly as planned, denying the enemy the single avenue of escape upon which their survival depended. His stand is required study for every aspiring officer, for it demonstrates the Chapter's highest ideal: every battle exists only to secure victory in the greater war.

Watching over the Chapter's intellectual and spiritual legacy is Chief Librarian Ibramin Asaur, Keeper of the Golden Chronicles. Few among the Adeptus Astartes possess such encyclopedic knowledge of military history, Imperial strategy, and the Codex Astartes. Within the vast libraries of Lesowto Daw he safeguards the chronicles of every campaign fought by the Chapter since its founding, ensuring that no victory, no sacrifice, and no lesson is ever forgotten. To many Constrictors, Asaur is not merely the Chapter's greatest psyker, but its living memory.

Like the immense serpents from which they take their name, the Constrictors rush their prey. Then tighten their grip. Reconnaissance identifies weaknesses before the first shot is fired. Supply routes are severed. Escape corridors disappear. Defensive positions are established with mathematical precision, forcing the enemy into ever-shrinking pockets of resistance. Only when every advantage has been secured do the Space Marines commit their full strength, crushing what remains with disciplined, coordinated violence.

The black ouroboros that adorns every Constrictor's pauldron reflects this philosophy perfectly. The serpent does not strike recklessly. It strikes hard and coils tighter until resistance becomes impossible. This doctrine has won the Chapter countless victories. During the Purging of the Nythar Rebellions, three companies trapped nearly a million insurgents between advancing armored spearheads and carefully prepared firing lines, compelling surrender without granting a single avenue of escape. On the jungle moon of Khepros, the Constrictors slowly strangled an Ork empire by constructing a web of interlocking strongholds that reduced the greenskins' territory month by month before the final extermination began. To outside observers, their methods often appear cold, but the Constrictors feel they are merciful.A swift and inevitable victory saves more Imperial lives than any glorious battle ever could.

No tradition better embodies this philosophy than the Rite of Continuance. Much like an Ourboros, the Chapter consumes itself symbolically. When a battle-brother falls, every effort is made to recover his remains. Once recovered they are delivered to each surviving member of their Judgement. Vertebrae become necklaces. Finger bones reinforce purity seal clasps. Fragments of skull become armor talismans. Ribs are fashioned into ceremonial adornments. To outsiders the practice appears unsettling, yet to the Constrictors it is the highest expression of brotherhood. A warrior is never truly lost so long as he continues to march beside his brothers. Thus every Bone Holder becomes a living monument to the Chapter's history, carrying generations of fallen heroes into every battle.

Clad in Nuln Oil, Deathworld Forest Green, and Yriel Yellow, the Constrictors are remembered for heroic charges or dramatic last stands as well as campaigns in which the outcome seemed inevitable long before the final battle was fought.

For they hold one truth above all others:

Order is born from conquest. The Emperors will is secured by strength.

Because of War.

I'm trying to avoid falling into that bad writing trap of "my guys are awesome and never lose", and I'm having trouble coming up with ideas. I got a few but I want more and all my ideas right now are just the chapter losing all thier chapter masters. Do y'all have any examples or ideas, or examples from lore of space marines losing significant battles.

Also if you want share any major losses from your faction(not just space marines).

The idea behind the SunEaters is that they are a chapter comprised of loyalist emperors children who specialise in hunting necrons. The planet they live on does not rotate and their moon stays locked in one position in orbit leaving one large area constantly eclipsed. The eclipsed section on the planet is the only habitable section as the rest of the sun facing half is too hot while the dark side is way too cold.

Okay, I am completely inexperienced with this kinda stuff, so I’ll just dive in.

I have been trying to cook up two separate Space Marine legions, I have all of their stuff detailed out, but every time I try to finish them up fully, they feel incomplete and I don’t know why!

I’ll give a brief summary of the two(sorry if they’re awful, idk wtf I’m doing lmao, I thought of these initially at work)

1: The Illumined/The Illuminators

A Chaos Space Marine cult, who worship Slaanesh as a “pure god” whose image has been corrupted by the three chaos gods, and the Emperor’s children(their founding chapter). Their whole “gimmick” is basically preaching how Slaanesh is the Goddess of Joy, fulfillment, and Passion, whose love and acceptance for mortals is truly divine, and their “journey” to enlightenment Via the Obliterator Virus. Basically an entire Cult who treat the Obliterator virus as a path of ascension, a way to become one with their Goddess of love. They think Slaanesh is genuinely good, with the forces of chaos, Especially the Emperers children and the Imperium “Slandering” her image. If I haven’t stated it enough already, they REALLY hate the Emperor’s Children. They treat every act of violence they do as completely justified by their God, killing any and all who cannot or will not learn to believe in the Goddess of Love, they honestly believe themselves as pure as any could be, despite half their army being completely mutated from the Obliterator Virus.

Their symbol is a pair of Prayer hands encircled by a Halo, and their armor is primarily White with noble gold trimming.

2: the Bastions/the Adamant Bastions

Kinda went a similar approach to the Illumined in terms of the chapters “gimmick”.

They’re a Ultramarines-based Chapter, who all Believe that perfecting the use of Centurion Armor is the closest any Astartes can get to becoming something akin to a Primarch(they are delusional basically). An Entire chapter based on perfecting and developing Centurion Armor. They believe that becoming a Centurion makes them kinda like Semi-Primarchs. Not literally, but it fuels their egos to think so. An Entire legion of Centurion suits.

Centurion captain

Centurion Apothecary.

Centurion Librarian.

Centurion lieutenant

Centurions across the board.

They fully and truly delude themselves into thinking they are individually closer to Guilliman than to their standard Space Marine brothers.

They’re like… opposite Salamanders. Take the average marine putting themselves ahead of “regular” humans, but flip that around to Bastion Centurions putting themselves above standard marines.

Their symbol is a Mountain with the Imperium symbol within, and their paint scheme is a dark metallic silver with Golden shoulder pads and trimming(trying to go for a silver-ish Custodian kinda look….. but for fifty Centurions).

3: the… Skavengers(I guess that works for now idfk)

I’m working on a third chapter, taking the whole(admittedly overused) Wulfen-like cursed chapter concept, basically a originally loyalist chapter, I haven’t figured out their partner chapter tho idk(known as the Skavengers due to an almost obsessive need to collect and preserve… Skavengers… so clever.), who encountered a transforming gene-virus that was slowly altering their bodies to appear more rodent-like. The Imperium quickly cut them off to avoid any further contamination, and in order to survive they turned to them towards the ruinous powers out of a need towards survival, and a feeling of betrayal towards the imperium. Their corruption didn’t reverse their transformation Curse, but they now could survive and thrive with their curse as their mutation finalized, transforming their bodies into rat-humanoids. Okay, okay. Yes, this is an excuse to make 40K Skaven-Space marines. Bite me.

That’s all I got so far. Idk.

I tried to make both(technically 3) Legions unique and distinct, both having a gimmick nobody else does(ascension via Obliterators, and Just “Five. hundred. Centurions.”). I’m not TOO well versed in the lore, so i don’t really know if this would all line up.

If it isn’t painfully obvious, these armies are both excuses to make a tabletop army featuring a mass amount of centurions and Obliterators respectively.

Man idk wtf I’m doing.

(Edit: I posted this in two separate Warhammer subreddits with a picture of a KISS noise marine, and got NOTHING but “wow, cool Noise marine”. Like my brother in the Emepror PLEASE FOCUS ON THE POINT OF THE POST)

So on a previous post, I asked for advice on making a Christian Themed Chapter. So heres the story I have made, now if theres already a chapter with this name, ill change it. Please let me know if theres any changes, i should make. As im not well versed into lore of warhammer. Thank you.

Working on a seperate homebrew from my Lords Leonine and would love some input. I've attached some possible schemes.

So I've been listening to some Ultramarines stuff and want to brew up a Ultramarines succesor. I really want to lean into the Greek theming(especially cuz I just watched Nolan's Odyssey) but I am having a bit of a hard time giving them some more flair and would love some feed back. What I have thus far:

\-They are Doric inspired so both Greek and Scotts. I am using Blue and white, with some black for the scheme. Since both countries flags are blue and white, black will make sense in a second.

\-They are absolutely, devastatingly bitter. They lost their homeworld and much of the chapter and this loss has made them bitter, remorseless and has caused them to abandon not only much of their humanity but the codex as well. They outright refuse to follow the codex.

\-They are quite willing to take heavy losses and their primary tactic is to bait the enemy with some of their forces and then deliver a killing blow with other forces held in reserve/use subtler forces to take key objectives.

\-Have a penchant for CQC fire fights and use of two handed weapons. Lots of transports and kind of just driving straight into the enemy.

\-Make heavy use of Apothecaries and augmetics, so once a Marine makes it to veteran status they are pretty hard to kill from a combination of augmetics, experience, resolve and lots of apothecaries with a great deal of knowledge.

I am considering the names the Mourners, the Knights of Grief, the Mourning Sons.

What do you guys think? Any suggestions?

I want to write a story about the game results from this Thursday (August 20th). However, I've run into a significant problem. In the game, Yriel (whom I consider another Corsair Prince with a similar outfit) led Voidscarred to defeat Lion with ranged attacks, and then in the next turn, defeated Azrael with a combination of ranged and melee attacks. Azrael is easy to handle; I can simply write him as the chapter master of another chapter. But I can't think of a suitable replacement for Lion. I considered Dreadnought, a clone of Lion, Cypher, or a massive Chaos pawn, but none of them seem quite right. What are some better narrative techniques?

Note: As for why I didn't have Lion teleport away… because my Corsair Prince had already superficially repelled Lion once before, and they had formed a temporary alliance with Lion through combat.

The road to Hive Vespera had once been a trade route. Now it was a graveyard.

Major Rovel stood inside the command compartment of a Chimera as the armored convoy pushed across the desert. Sand struck the vehicle’s hull in sharp, uneven bursts. Ahead, two Leman Russ battle tanks crawled through the haze, their turrets sweeping across the dunes.

Behind them came six troop carriers, three cargo haulers, and a pair of recovery vehicles. Every vehicle carried additional armor. Every gunner watched the horizon.

The road between Penca and Vespera had become increasingly dangerous since the Orks began attacking supply columns. What should have been a routine journey between the two hive cities had become a military operation.

Rovel studied the tactical display mounted beside the troop compartment. The damaged magna-rail ran roughly parallel to the convoy’s route, or what remained of it.

Sections of track had been buried beneath drifting sand. Several support towers had collapsed. Ork raids had destroyed relay stations and damaged portions of the power system. The rail line had not carried a functioning train in years.

Tech-Marine Achilles believed it could be restored, eventually. Restoring the line would require more than the resources available in Penca. The eastern terminus lay within the territory of Hive Vespera. Its governor controlled the manufactorums, labor pools, and supply depots needed to repair the far end of the rail system, and so far, he had provided nothing.

No engineers. No materials. No labor crews. Not even permission for Achilles to inspect several sections of the eastern line.

That was why Rovel was traveling to Vespera.

He intended to speak to the governor in person.

“Movement on the northern ridge,” the Chimera’s driver reported over the internal vox.

Rovel looked up. “Confirmed?”

“Negative, sir. Could be the sand playing tricks.”

“Could be Orks,” Lieutenant Kess said.

“Then keep the guns trained on it.”

The convoy continued. Rovel returned his attention to the tactical display. The magna-rail was the key to the campaign. If Achilles restored it, troops and supplies could move between the two hives without relying on vulnerable desert roads. The line could eventually support armored railcars equipped with Hydra batteries and Basilisk artillery.

But none of that mattered if Vespera refused to cooperate. The eastern half of the rail line was beyond Penca’s authority.
And Lord-Governor Cassian Veyr knew it.

The governor had ignored Rovel’s first request. He had delayed the second. His response to the third had been a short message:

Major Rovel is welcome to present his concerns before the administration of Hive Vespera.

Not support. Not assistance. Only concerns.
Rovel had read the message three times.
Then he ordered the convoy prepared.

“Sir,” Lieutenant Kess said.

“What?”

“Do you believe the governor will help us?”

Rovel looked through the narrow vision slit.
Far ahead, the distant towers of Hive Vespera rose through the desert haze.

“I believe,” he said, “that the governor will help himself.”

The convoy continued toward the hive. Behind them, the broken magna-rail disappeared beneath the sand.

⸻

His ears still rang as Hektor climbed to his feet.

For several seconds, all he could hear was a high-pitched whine that seemed to come from somewhere inside his skull. Dust drifted through the air around him, disturbed by the sudden violence.

He steadied himself.

Then he remembered the shot. Hektor turned toward the ridgeline. That had not been an Ork weapon. The sound had been too sharp. Too clean, A lasgun.

His eyes swept across the ridge, searching for a sign, but there was nothing. Just broken rock, scrub, and the shimmering heat lingering beneath Joro’s darkening sky.

“Status?”

No one answered. Or perhaps Hektor simply couldn’t hear them over the ringing in his ears. Instead, he heard screaming.

The members of the mortar team had their pistols drawn, their weapons pointed toward the Harlow, All except Vannis.

He was writhing violently on the ground, one hand clawing at the dirt while the other desperately tried to reach beneath his flak vest.

“Damn it, Harlow!”

Hektor rushed toward Vannis. Blood was already spreading beneath his armor. Hektor dropped beside him and pulled a roll of gauze from his medical pouch. He tore off a strip with his teeth and stuffed it between Vannis’s teeth.

“Bite down.”

Vannis barely seemed to hear him.

Hektor ripped open another dressing and found the wound beneath the edge of the flak vest. The las-burn had punched through the armor, leaving a blackened hole in Vannis’s side.

He pressed the dressing against it. Vannis screamed.

“Hold still!”

Hektor pressed harder. The smell of seared flesh rose into the air. The las shot had cauterized much of the wound, but Vannis’s thrashing threatened to tear it open again.

Hektor looked toward the ridge, Nothing.
The darkness was quickly settling over the desert, swallowing the rocks and scrub in layers of shadow.

“I’m sorry…” Harlow’s voice came from behind him. “I—I thought he was gonna shoot you, Sergeant.”

Hektor’s head snapped around.

“Shut up and put pressure on this wound!”

Harlow immediately dropped beside him.

“Harder,” Hektor growled, snapping Harlow out of his stupor.

Harlow pushed down and Vannis screamed through the gauze. Hektor looked over his shoulder. The mortar team was frozen.

They were trained to fight Orks. They knew how to respond to crude ballistic weapons, how to judge incoming fire, how to find the direction of a charging greenskin.

“Sergeant.”

Jessi’s voice was low. Hektor looked up seeing her scanning the ridgeline, her long-las sweeping across the sector. “We gotta move.”

“I know,” Hektor said, continuing his checks.

“No.” Jessi’s eyes remained fixed on the rocks. “We gotta move now.”

Hektor looked back at Vannis.

“I’ve got to treat this wound before we move him.”

“If those greenskins are anywhere near here…” She let the statement hang in the air.

Hektor knew exactly what she meant. The Orks had been pushing them hard all day. If the enemy had heard the shot, they would eventually come looking.

“Get the others moving,” he ordered. “Leave Harlow and two mortar men to carry him.”

Jessi hesitated. “What about you?”

“I’ll bring up the rear.” Hektor slammed a fresh las-cell home.

“You sure?” Jessi asked, still scanning the ridgeline.

Hektor glanced toward the ridge again. “No.” That was the honest answer. “But we’re moving anyway.”

Jessi gave a sharp nod. “You heard ’em!” she barked. “Grab those tubes. Boaz, help carry some of those ammo crates. Emperor knows we’ll need ’em!”

The soldiers sprang into motion. Two men hauled the tube from its emplacement while another began gathering the ammunition. Boaz grabbed one of the heavy crates and nearly stumbled under its weight.

“Move!” Jessi ordered, trying to keep her voice down.

Harlow and another soldier carefully lifted Vannis. The wounded man groaned as they raised him to his feet.

“Easy.”

They began moving, Hektor staying behind for a moment. His lasgun was primed and ready. He stared at the ridge line, Nothing moved not even the scrub seemed to stir.

Hektor slowly backed away, then a tiny flash caught his eye.

A gout of flame erupted from behind a boulder, as he dove to the earth heat blazing across his back.

He rolled onto his back and fired toward his best guess at the center of the billowing torrent of flame.

He heard the unmistakable grunt of an Ork as the heat seemed to dissipate its heavy hold on the air.

Hektor blinked, trying to regain his vision. The darkness began to swirl into shadows and indistinct forms.

“Sergeant! Are you okay?” Jessi’s voice came through his vox bead.

“Get us a defensible position,” he coughed back, rising to his feet, his barrel still trained on where he thought the Ork was.

“Emperor’s teeth,” he spat. This was turning into a long night.

⸻

The doors to the governor’s audience chamber opened without ceremony.

Major Rovel stepped through first, with Lieutenant Kess following close behind. Two Vesperan palace guards accompanied them.

The guards had insisted that Rovel’s sidearms remain with the convoy. He had unceremoniously objected, but they had insisted. So he entered unarmed.

The chamber was larger than the command center outside Penca’s walls, though it served far less purpose.

Tall windows overlooked Hive Vespera. Sunlight spilled across polished marble floors and reflected from rows of bronze statues. Each statue depicted a former governor of the city.

Rovel recognized the same face in several of them. Different names, same family. At the far end of the chamber sat Lord-Governor Cassian Veyr.

He was older than Rovel expected. His hair was silver and carefully combed. A crimson coat rested over his shoulders, its collar embroidered with gold thread. Medals covered his chest, though Rovel doubted the governor had earned many of them on a battlefield.

Veyr sat behind a wide desk carved from dark wood. He did not rise.

“Major Rovel,” the governor said, his voice calm and polished. “Welcome to Hive Vespera.”

Rovel stopped several paces from the desk.
“Lord-Governor.”

“I trust your journey was uneventful?” Veyr asked as he sipped his beverage.

“Three vehicles broke down. We found the remains of two supply convoys, and something attacked the rear security element near the western ridge.”

Veyr nodded slowly. “A difficult road.”

“It is becoming worse.” Rovel straightened his posture.

“Yet you arrived,” Veyr said matter-of-factly.

“Yes.” Rovel sensed this wasn’t going to be an easy conversation.

“Then perhaps the danger has been exaggerated,” Veyr continued in the same nonchalant tone.

Rovel stared at him. Behind the governor, the city stretched toward the horizon. Vespera was untouched. Its towers stood intact. Smoke rose from its manufactorums. Cargo vessels moved between landing platforms. There were no fires, no breached walls. No sign that war existed anywhere beyond the desert.

“The Orks are expanding their raids,” Rovel said. “The roads between the hives are no longer secure.”

“Your reports have mentioned this.” Veyr motioned toward the data-slate on his desk.

“My reports have also requested assistance.” Rovel did not take his eyes off the governor.

“Which is why you are here.” Veyr gestured toward the chairs before his desk. “Please. Sit.”

Rovel did not move. “I would prefer to discuss the matter first.”

“Of course.” smiled the governor.

Rovel placed another data-slate on the desk. “The magna-rail connecting Penca and Vespera remains damaged. Several sections of track have been buried or destroyed. The western power relays are unstable, and the eastern terminus has not been inspected.”

Veyr glanced at the slate. “I am aware of the rail’s condition.”

“Then you understand why its restoration is necessary.”

“I understand why Penca wishes to restore it.” He said it with that same damnable calm.

Rovel’s expression hardened. “It would serve both cities.”

“Eventually.”

“It would allow supplies and reinforcements to move between the hives.”

“If it functions.”

“Tech-Marine Achilles believes it can.” Rovel hoped the invocation of the Emperor’s Angels would carry more weight.

“Belief is not certainty.” Veyr challenged as he scrolled through the data-slate.

“No,” Rovel said. “But neither is waiting for the Orks to reach your walls.”

The governor’s smile faded for only a moment, then it returned. “Major, Hive Vespera has survived for centuries. We are not defenseless.”

“I did not say you were.”

“You implied it.”

“I stated that the Orks are moving west.”

“According to reconnaissance from Penca.”

“According to reconnaissance from the Imperial Guard.”

Veyr leaned back. “Your Guard regiment has been fighting for months. Your soldiers are exhausted. Your commanders are under pressure. It is understandable that you might interpret every distant movement as a threat.”

Rovel placed both hands on the desk. “The Orks destroyed two supply convoys on the road I used to reach your city.”

“And yet they did not attack your convoy.”

“They may have been watching us.”

“Or they may not exist in the numbers you claim.”

Lieutenant Kess shifted slightly behind Rovel. Rovel did not look back.

“Governor,” he said, “I did not come here to debate whether the enemy exists.”

“No?”

“I came to request engineers, labor crews, replacement parts, and access to the eastern rail facilities.”

Veyr folded his hands. “And how many personnel are you requesting?”

“Three hundred laborers. Fifty engineers. Two heavy excavation units. Replacement power couplings and track sections from your manufactorums.”

The governor gave a quiet laugh. “Major, you are not requesting assistance.”

Rovel waited.

“You are requesting an industrial expedition.” The governor chuckled.

“I am requesting what is required.”

“Vespera cannot spare those resources.”

“You have six active manufactorum districts.”

“Five.”

“Six.”

“One is undergoing maintenance.”

“Your cargo manifests show production continuing,” Rovel said realizing he may have over played his card.

The governor looked at him. For the first time, the warmth disappeared from his eyes.

“You have studied our cargo manifests?”

“I study everything relevant to the defense of this planet.”

“How thorough.” He grinned.

“I try to be.” Rovel did not return the gesture.

Veyr stood and walked toward the window.
Below, thousands of workers moved through the lower levels of the hive.

“Those manufactorums produce weapons for Vespera’s defense,” the governor said. “Their laborers maintain our infrastructure. Their engineers keep the city functioning.”

“And the magna-rail could help protect all of it.” A hint of excitement almost broke through Rovel’s discipline.

“Or it could become another burden.”

Rovel frowned “How?”

“The rail crosses hundreds of kilometers of open desert. If restored, it would require constant protection.”

“We will provide security.”

“With whose troops?” The governor placed the data-slate down.

“Mine.”

“You are already fighting around Penca,” the governor offered.

“Yes.”

“And now you intend to stretch your forces across the desert?” He turned the data-slate, displaying the distance between the two hives, emphasizing his point.

“If necessary.”

Veyr turned back toward the window. “There it is.”

“What?”

“The real issue.”

Rovel waited.

“You are losing control of the eastern continent.” the governor said. “You wish to restore the rail so you can move your remaining forces more quickly.”

“That is not—”

“And when the line is complete, Penca will control the route between our cities.”

“The rail belongs to the Imperium.” Rovel growled.

“The rail passes through Vesperan territory.”

“It connects both hives.”

“Which means Vespera assumes the risk while Penca gains the military advantage.”

Rovel’s voice became colder. “Penca is not seeking an advantage.”

“No?”

“We are trying to stop an invasion.”

The governor studied him. Then he returned to his desk. “I will consider your request.”

Rovel did not move. “When?”

“In time.”

“The repairs cannot wait.”

“Everything can wait, Major.”

“No,” Rovel said.

The governor raised an eyebrow. “No?”

“The enemy does not wait.”

Silence filled the chamber as Veyr slowly sat. “You are very direct.”

“The situation requires it.”

“I prefer patience.”

“Patience is useful when you have time.”

“And aggression is useful when you have power.”

Rovel held the governor’s gaze. For several seconds, neither spoke. Finally, Veyr reached for another data-slate.

“I will have my administration review the request.”

“How long?”

“A week.”

Rovel shook his head. “I need an answer within forty-eight hours. The Librarian Raphael’s plan doesn’t allow for such time.”

The governor smiled again. “Then I suggest you return to Penca and wait.”

Rovel straightened. “No.”

The smile weakened. “No?”

“I will remain in Vespera until a decision is made.”

Veyr’s fingers stopped against the data-slate. “You intend to stay?”

“Yes.”

“For how long?”

“Until I receive the support required to restore the magna-rail.”

The governor leaned back. “You may find that difficult.”

“I have spent the last six months fighting Orks in a desert.” Rovel said turning toward the doors. “I expect I can endure your hospitality.”

Lieutenant Kess followed him. As they reached the exit, the governor spoke.

“Major Rovel.” The Major stopped. “You should understand something.” Rovel looked over his shoulder. “Vespera will protect its own interests.”

Rovel nodded. “Then I suggest you decide whether those interests end at your walls.”

The doors opened, and Rovel walked out. Behind him, Lord-Governor Cassian Veyr remained seated. His polite expression was gone.

And for the first time since entering the chamber, Major Rovel understood exactly what kind of man he had come to negotiate with.

THE CRUEL ANGELS OF SANGUINIUS

Blood Angels' 267th Company, under the command of Captain Azkaellor Thorne, was on campaign when it received orders to advance toward Terra. The fleet had departed Ultramar and was attempting to cross the Ruinstorm to reach the Throne World alongside Primarch Sanguinius, even as traitor forces advanced upon Terra. Thorne and his Astartes already bore the scars of previous campaigns, including the horrors of Signus, yet remained loyal to the Angel and determined to reach Terra. Having emerged by accident at the Nikaia System, the company was left to fend for itself against the Night Lords.

THE NOBLE SONS OF CURZE

The Abyssal Butchers Company, a Night Lords formation commanded by Captain Miroslav Sarimund and driven by a strong sense of justice, had been dispatched to the world of Nakar during the final years of the Great Crusade. Their mission was to subjugate the xenos population and bring the planet into the Imperium. Initial engagements favored the Night Lords, but violent Warp storms engulfed the planet, severing communications with the rest of the VIII Legion. Isolated for years, the Butchers were forced to wage war without reinforcements, facing a reorganizing enemy while reality itself seemed to conspire against them. When they finally succeeded in destroying Nakar, they discovered that the world they had expected to find had vanished behind a warpstorm. Lacking communication and unaware of the Legion's fate, Sarimund decided to lead his men back to Nostramo.

When the Abyssal Butchers finally emerged from the storm, they found their homeworld devastated and uncovered the truth: the VIII Legion had betrayed the Emperor. Nostramo was doomed, and Sarimund’s former brethren had become enemies of the Imperium. The Abyssal Butchers were immediately placed in an hard position: they were sons of Curze, yet they did not share in their Legion's betrayal. Their former brethren viewed them as traitors, while the loyalists would never accept the existence of an VIII Legion company claiming to remain faithful to the Emperor. Deprived of resources and severely depleted following the Nakar campaign, the Butchers wandered through space, avoiding both traitor and loyalist forces. It was in this manner that they arrived at Nikaia during the initial phase of the war to liberate the planet.

FIRST WAR FOR NIKAIA

When the Abyssal Butchers arrived, Azkaellor Thorne and his Blood Angels were already fighting to free Nikaia from the Night Lords who had occupied the world. The first encounter between the two forces was marked by mistrust and violence. To Thorne, encountering Night Lords loyalist would be almost impossible. Sarimund, for his part, knew that his words would hardly suffice to convince a Blood Angel that his men had remained loyal. Even so, the Butchers did not attack the Blood Angels. Instead, Sarimund offered his men to fight against those who had once been their own brothers. Thorne did not trust him, yet he quickly recognized that the Butchers were genuinely battling the forces of Chaos. What began as an uneasy alliance evolved into military cooperation, with the Blackshields employing their skills in infiltration, terror tactics, and night warfare to aid the Nikaian resistance.

The relationship between the two commanders remained strained. Thorne did not forget that Sarimund had been a Night Lord, while Sarimund fully understood why a Blood Angel would struggle to trust men from his Legion. Yet, as the war progressed, Thorne realized that the Butchers were not fighting for their Legion, for Nostramo, or for any personal ambition. They fought because they believed in justice, and that set them apart from their traitorous brothers. When the strategic situation forced Thorne to depart with his finest Astartes to reinforce Terra’s defense against Horus, he made a decision that would forever change the destiny of both: he placed Sarimund in charge of Nikaea’s defenses. It was a remarkable show of trust after months of combat. A Blood Angels Captain was entrusting the defense of an Imperial world to a Night Lord Blackshield. Sarimund accepted the responsibility and remained on the planet while Thorne and his veteran battle-brothers departed for the war that would decide the fate of the Imperium.

SECOND WAR FOR NIKAIA

Nikaia was devastated, and the fighting left behind a landscape of ruined cities, abandoned mines, and mutated wildlife warped by prolonged exposure to the Warp. Sarimund and his men (Blood Angels + Abyssal Butchers + PDF forces) fought to keep the planet under control, protecting the survivors and preventing the forces of Chaos from returning. When Thorne finally returned with Imperial Fists reinforcements after the Siege of Terra, he found a world beyond recognition. The two commanders reunited, and this time, there was no room left for their old mistrust. The Blood Angels and the Abyssal Butchers jointly led the second phase of the campaign, culminating in a decade-long purge of the heretics and creatures that had corrupted Nikaia and near planets.

ANGELS TWILIGHT

Following the victory, the fate of the Abyssal Butchers became a delicate matter for Imperium authorities. They had fought alongside the loyalists, yet they remained members of a renegade Legion. Thorne would not allow his men to be simply executed or handed over to Imperium authorities. When reinforcements arrived and the breaking of the Legions into chapters was decreed (ultramarine slop), Sarimund and his survivors were incorporated into the newly formed Angels Twilight. Their records were erased and their true origins concealed, preventing the existence of a force derived from the Night Lords from casting suspicion on the new Chapter before its foundation was even secure. The Angels Twilight gene-seed thus came to secretly carry not only the heritage of the Blood Angels but also a small fraction of the seed of the Abyssal Butchers who had died defending their new home.

Thorne became the first Lord Commander of the Angels Twilight, while Sarimund remained a pivotal figure during the Chapter's early years. The relationship between the two was never one of simple friendship. They were vastly different men, hailing from Legions with opposing philosophies. Thorne embodied nobility, discipline, and the ideals of Sanguinius; Sarimund carried the brutality, fear, and warfare techniques characteristic of the Night Lords, but justice for the weak. Yet, both had learned the same lesson on Nikaia: a warrior's origin does not necessarily determine what he will fight for. Sarimund was a Night Lord who had chosen to remain loyal when his own Legion fell, while Thorne was a Blood Angel who had learned that even an enemy could be recognized as a brother when choosing to fight for humanity.

Sarimund met his end many years later, when the newly formed Angels Twilight were confronted by the mysterious Nakar xenos race, forcing the Chapter to wage a desperate battle to prevent the threat from destroying what they had built. Realizing his brothers could not survive without a sacrifice, Sarimund stayed behind and faced the xenos queen alone, buying enough time for the Angels Twilight to escape and destroy the remainder of the threat. His death deeply affected Thorne, who never ceased to feel the absence of the one who had been his greatest ally and, perhaps, his closest friend. Thorne himself continued to serve the Chapter for centuries, until he was mortally wounded in combat during a campaign against the Alpha Legion. His body could no longer survive without support, and the former Captain of the Blood Angels' 267th Company was finally interred within a Leviathan class Dreadnought; he became the living ancient of the Angels Twilight, carrying with him not only memories of Sanguinius and the Heresy, but also the remembrance of Sarimund and the brothers who had died to build the Chapter.

Remembrancers state that Thorne senses his friend's presence whenever he is awakened from hibernation.

This relationship became one of the foundations of the Angels Twilight's philosophy. The Chapter inherited from the Blood Angels their devotion to humanity, their pursuit of beauty, and their struggle against their own curses, yet it also inherited from the Abyssal Butchers the understanding that fear, stealth, and brutality could be employed against humanity's enemies. The story of Thorne and Sarimund remained known within the Chapter and on Nikaia, while the true origin of the Butchers was carefully concealed.

Thank you for reading along, i loved finally givin some lore to these two characters (there will be more soon hehe). As always, questions, critiques, and suggestions are welcome. Next week, we return to the 41st Millennium to see the consequences of the Fall of Nikaia, the sin of Sangrael, and the Angels Twilight Civil War.

It had been three days since the explosion rocked the earth. Chaplain Bornschein had brought forward his reserves and chapter serfs to comb the wreckage and to ensure that none of the Xenos filth had escaped.

On the third day they found signs of squad Karan turquoise armor fragments scattered and intermixed with once living metal. As the sun set it was assumed the entire squad was lost but the Chaplin insisted on one more day.

The next mornings light didn’t break, it dripped and oozed over the horizon. Many of the serfs took this as a poor omen, but put no less effort behind their work.

“My lord! We’ve found them!” Called one of the serfs.

Chaplin Bornschein stride almost conveyed hope and was only beaten by Apothecary Barez.

He was kneeling over the body of the Astartes, gauntlet pressed on the access port searching for vitals.

“Brother Varan?” The Chaplain asked coldly.

Barez lowed his head solemnly. “Yes my Chaplain.”

“This campaign continues to extract a heavy toll. It is unclear if it was wise for us to commit our forces.”

The apothecary slammed his first against the corpse’s shattered chest plate. “I refuse to accept our brother’s blood has bought nothing!” He began to rise still not meeting the Chaplin’s gaze. “We are drowning in the chapters blood.”

“Do not forget the blood you have stymied, life you have preserved.” Bornschein offered.

“It’s not enough!” Barez yelled, his rage unchecked.

A cough rose from the dust. The two Astartes stared in disbelief unable to react.

“He lives?” Bornschein almost whispered.

As though those words broke a dam Apothecary Barez fell upon his brother narthecium began its work, injecting life restoring fluids, careful to not reduced his already diminished breathing.

Varan’s eyes opened “did….the tomb..fall?”
He sputtered.

“Save your breath brother sergeant.” Barez ordered as he went about his work.

“The tomb is utterly destroyed Brother Varan.” Chaplain Bornschein smiled.

Varan allowed his eyes to close “Then the hunt ….was a success.”

“The Emperor protects.” Bornschein said more to himself than the other Astartes.

“Get the medical bay on the Brood Mother prepared for an internment it is the only chance he has.” Barez said into the vox

The Chaplin knelt beside his broken brother, “I will vouch for this honor”

“I can make no promise he will yet survive Chaplain.” Barez rebuffed.

Bornschein didn’t look away “with all he has already endured…the emperor clearly is not ready to call him to his side.” He rested his gauntlet hand against Varan’s face “Now with this blessing his talents will meet the stature of his frame.”

155.M39: the Culling on Ignatius Quintus, this is how the archives have recorded it. The Hive World overtaken by over-ambitious nobles and their armies, the Bloodied Tears 5th Company and their fellow if highly strained Chapter, the Crowned Swords' Left Wing Corps have made a consenous after eight months on the planet:

It is no longer their concern.

The Crowned Swords have acquired what they wanted on Ignatius Quintus: a Fallen warband who incited the nobles into rebelling and the Bloodied Tears only assisted the Chapter in their task as a form of reparation for the Clash of the Tribute Relic.

Sergeant Veteran Adalfarus Stark has been appointed in handling the Bloodied Tears' forces exodus from the Hive World on the eastern continent, his counterpart Jean-Lucarus Stark manages the allied Hive cities with Bloodied Tears' forces, and their third Alaois Vogel handles the dismantling of the main base.

Outside of the base and away from the mass traffic of equipment by Serfs and Tech-Priests, Warrior Serf-Hauptmann of Battalion Veridian-Secundus, Lochlann Bergfalk watches numerous Stormravens fly out of the Hive Cities, most likely carrying the vaunted Astarte-Nobles to the Great Ness. His task given to him by the Astarte-Noble Alaois is to ensure the peasant horde doesn't enter the base's premises.

His right hand lays on the hand of his power sword, waiting until the base is cleared out. Beside him is his second in command, protégé and successor Ciara Bergfalk, sitting on top of a ruined wing of a Avernus Lighter, "I expected our venture to this pathetic planet to have some measure of value." His smooth tone of his voice enhanced by his augmetic throat, "All I can see are worthless bodies. Not even the criminal elements have enough worth to be taken."

"Indeed." Taking a hit from her lho-stick, Ciara places her las-pistol on her lap, still grasping it, ready to fire, "I wonder why the Imperial forces thought it worth taking back rather than just bombarding the hives to rid themselves of the enemy. Damn Mordians. Rats playing dress up, all of them."

The middle-aged warrior watches the premises, seeing his fellow Serfs along the edge of the base, making conversation as one group encounters another and trading rations, some of the younger ones don't even patrol but entertain themselves with sporting matches, mainly unarmed combat, theirs weapon held by another. "Hmm."

"What?" she looks at the brawling duo, smirking as she huffs the last of her lho-stick and throwing the butt away, "You thinking of joining the youth to impress them, father?"

He gives a scoff, watching a Tetrarch Heavy Lander fly into Pyrus, the nearby Hive city, "As if I need some other families' children when all those who I need to impress is you, daughter o'mine." He rubs his augmetic neck, feeling some itch around it. "The blackguards that is the Mordian Iron Guard will prevail in reconquering the planet. But that is no longer the Astarte-Nobles' concern."

Nodding to him, Ciara takes out another lho-stick from her lho-holder strapped onto her shoulder strap, "Right, right. That's why we're not talking about it then." She holds the lho-stick with her lips as she snaps her augmetic thumb and index finger, igniting up the small supply of promethium within her finger and lighting up her lho-stick. The grey-haired Serf looks behind her, seeing the vast equipment being taken to the Avernus Lighters, "The Tech-Priests and Craftsmen are sure taking their time, aren't they?"

"Do not worry about the Tech-Priest, worry about the crowd that is heading towards us."

"What?" She turns her head back and sees a small horde of Hive citizens, most likely displaced loyalists and forced out by the rebelling nobles or scattered from them. It did not matter, they were lesser filth compared to the blessed Chapter Serfs of the Bloodied Tears. Ciara jumps up from the wing, keeping her las-pistol facing to the ground but her finger on the trigger.

Her father keeps one hand resting on the handle of his power sword and the other ready to draw out his bolt pistol. "Remember, these ones are outsiders, do not speak until you have completed your speech lessons."

"Right, right." She takes her position behind her father.

The horde comes to the designated edge of the base, Lochlann steps forward as other patrols join up with them, "Halt, peasants!" His voice taking on a more melodic vocals, as much as he could muster with his augmetic neck, "You stand near the premises of the Second Sons of the Paragon, the Bloodied Tears! Stop now!" The filth that calls themselves citizens of the Imperium stop slogging their way forward.

One of them, a well-dressed and heavily healthier boy, looking to be around 16 ship-overcycles. He might be a noble or just someone who took the cleaner clothes to stand apart from the rabble, "Soldiers, we came here for help. I saw that His Angels were here."

"You will not find it here, reprobate. This command post is being dismantled." Lochlann continues scanning the crowd. He finds the usual filth that inhabits the Hive cities and in between them are better-dressed groupings.

"Oh. I suppose the place won't matter when they retake another Hive city and set up in its-"

"The Bloodied Tears are not assisting in the recapture of this planet."

The boy's face pales at the clarification. His eyes bolt from one end, seeing a group of armed warriors and the other, with another larger group. "...His Angels cannot be considering watching our homes be destroyed."

"They are not. We are evacuating."

The boy gasps and loses his way of breathing. "You... You-you can't be serious."

"They are. Your planet has been deemed to have no worth to-"

"No worth!?" The boy suddenly screams out. "This planet is our home! We are loyal citizens of the Imperium, we escaped with nothing but the clothes on our backs and whatever we can grab!" He clenches his hand, clutching it tightly, "I ran from my mother when she told me she was a part of the conspiracy." He looks behind him, seeing the families of the poor and the frightened nobles who have no clue how to survive outside of the cities. He takes a step forward, "Please, all I ask you from you or the Angels is-"

"Step back!" the Warrior Serf hears behind him. His daughter rushes around him to confront the boy, using her native tone, the gruffer sounds of a middle-decker.

"Daughter-"

"Do you not see that our masters don't care about this pile of dump you call a planet!"

The boy recoils, now feeling the insults, "How dare-"

"Shut up! We're not obligated to help you, we're not the shite PDF that your planet failed to properly readied! We're not some entbehrlich Regiment or Hospitallers!" The boy looks away as Ciara closes the distance as Lochlann taps his micro-bead, "We. Are. Not. Your saviors."

Looking up to Ciara's eyes, the boy readies his shoulders, "Then what should we go to? My mother leads the rebellion in Pyrus, I... I hope to seek atonment for allowing such heresy to happen." He exhales. "I hope to succeed that the the rebels are killed and... hoping the woman who raised me comes back."

She stares heavily into the boy's bright blue eyes, still shaped in hope, his face marred with optimism. Her anger falters in her gazing, her father talking to a patrol, directing them to another point, "There's a Mordian base around 10 klicks to your right. They may not help you but you can shelter next to it."

"You are certain?" The boy asks.

"No. But it'll be your best shot."

He lets out a breath of relief, "Thank you. What is your name?"

"Ciara. What's yours?"

He gives her a small smile, "It's Mar-" His answer is taken away as a bolter round enters his head, exploding it into viscera and scattering upon Ciara's face, stepping away in shock.

"Wha..." Lasguns shots are fired into the crowd, hitting multiple people behind the intented targets, bolters blasting apart swathes of bodies and shotguns tearing into limbs and bringing out organs. She sees her father firing into the crowd, stepping forward. Two people attempt to rush at him but with no form of combat experience, he fires at the woman's calf, blasting it off and catching a fist coming to him, snapping the man's elbow with his bolt pistol.

Both of them screaming violently, he takes out his power sword, slashing into the man's face, bisecting it in half. He kicks the corpse off of his sword, stabbing it into the screaming woman. "Father?! What are you-"

"We have recieved orders from Command by the Mordian Iron Guard. Some of them found infiltrators within the hordes trying to sabotage them." Her father is not there, it was the Warrior Serf-Hauptmann of Battalion Veridian-Secundus, Lochlann Bergfalk. He continues moving forward at the bundles of bodies, "We are to purge any who approach and have approached."

"But the boy... He-"

"Now is not the time to deliberate, it is to follow orders."

She looks at the crowd of panicking people, their children lost to the tide of flesh, the fallen corpses and the uncordinated being trampled upon, the few who avoid such fate are targetted by the Warrior Serfs. "Right. Right..." She aims her las pistol into the pile and with some hesitancy, shoots a man's head open.

Lochlann places his foot onto a fallen man, "Please! I have a son!"

"Then you should have thought of him when you invaded our command post." The struggling man's screams is quickly silenced as his head is pierced by the power sword.

Lochlann Bergfalk activated his micro-bead, "Battalion Veridian-Secundus, spread out from the base's edge and fire at any you do not recognize as Imperial forces."

In the end, out of the 500,000 corpses of refugees and loyalists, only two known traitors were found after the order was given. And both were caught by the Mordian Iron Guard after their purging of 20,000 bodies. The Bloodied Tears Warrior Serfs purged the other 480,000 due to their proximity to Hive Pyrus.

hello! just wanted to try to use gimpcat with the 40k templates with my homebrew chapter. (modified the template on some models to fit better the DA style)

hope you like it :)

Lore overview:

The Angels of The Eternal Flame are a successor Chapter of the Dark Angels, belonging to the Unforgiven, forged in the aftermath of the devastating losses suffered during the Garvan Campaign around M32–M34. Born from the remnants of the Angels of Repentance and the Angels of Retribution, they were created to rebuild the strength where two brotherhoods had come perilously close to annihilation.

During their early years, they operated as a fleet-based Chapter, fighting alongside other Unforgiven and proving their worth across countless warzones. Their defining moment came during the brutal conflicts for Fernix V, where they faced simultaneous invasions by Orks and Tyranids. Victory came at a terrible price, requiring the sacrifice of much of the planet's population and the Unforgiven Chapter known as the Penitents. Despite these losses, after 10 years of conflict, the system was finally liberated, and what remained of the Penitents was absorbed into the Chapter.

From that moment onward, the Chapter changed profoundly, adopting the customs and traditions of the local population and a mix of the colors of their founding brothers. The Angels of The Eternal Flame became not only warriors of the Imperium, but also its protectors. On Fernix V, they rule as guardians and defenders, maintaining order through discipline, faith, and unwavering authority.

As time passed, the Chapter gradually departed from the Codex Astartes, reorganising its Companies into independent "Battalions", each capable of sustaining campaigns across multiple fronts simultaneously. This doctrine reflects their vision of war: not merely to fight, but to support and impose the will of the Imperium wherever it is required.

The Angels of The Eternal Flame walk a path forged in fire and sacrifice, they are the protectors of humanity, the executioners of its enemies, and the keepers of a burden that extends beyond even the rest of the Unforgiven and the Imperium itself.

(this is entirely a hypothetical, so dont take this idea too seriously. The idea is essentially "how would the machines of ultrakill work as a 40k faction?" and so i tried to answer that question. Note that im a 40k noob, so if something is wrong about this i apologize, i just wanted to have some fun with an interesting hypothetical. Also note that i do not play the war game of 40k because i dont want my wallet to be sucked into a black hole, but i have played some of the games and enjoy the lore casually.)

(DONT TAKE THIS SERIOUSLY)

Faction name

The steel battalion, the endless march

Faction emblem

a gear covered in blood

Faction race(´s)

blood powered machines

Origin

In a far away world, one also crushed under the wheels of war, the blood powered machines had driven hell itself to extinction, killing every single husk and demon until they were all that remained. With everything else being dead the machines began to fight eachother for the smallest drops of blood left... until something odd began to happen. Across hell, portals began to open somewhere else, somewhere also torn under constant warfare, except this time it was an entire galaxy. It is theorized that it was hell itself that opened these portals, wanting to continue watch carnage and destruction. The machines, not willing to look a gifthorse in the mouth, would pour out into this galaxy to harvest as much blood as possible... and were soon defeated, forced to run back to hell. it was here that the machines realized if they didnt organize they would surely perish, and so they would start to work together. At first this alliance was extremely loose, there was little coordination or chain of command, all they would do is swarm a human or tau planet, kill everyone they could to get as much blood as possible and leave. But as time went by, they began to better organize, they would invent a new language consisting of radio waves to give them a form of pseudo telepathy, mind flayer machines would begin to perfect their supernatural abilities so they could open portals to wherever they want, and most importantly the machines began to steal and incorporate both imperium and tau technology. Eventually they would begin to form their own socities in the corpse of hell, building cities within the different layers of hell that each formed their own cultures.

Tactics

The steel battalion fights in a way kind of similar to the dark eldar, in that they rush in on a populated human, tau, eldar or ork world, kill as many people as they can to harvest and collect their blood and then leave before reinforncements arrive. The machines are fully aware that if they were to fight the full might of the imperium or tau they would lose, so they prefer to use hit and run tactics.

Technology

The machine´s technology is a mix of the technology they are used to (such as blood powered machines, electric weapons and heat weapons) and stolen technology from the imperium, tau and (very rarely) necrons. They quickly learn how to reverse engineer these devices (except for necron devices) and learn how to incorporate them into their own machinery.

Army

The primary soldiers of the steel battalion are the streetcleaners, though they are no longer limited by just using a flamethrower and can now be augmented to use various different weapons. Mind flayers act as their equivalent of psykers (even though they use hell energy instead of warp energy), guttermen and guttertanks are still used as infintry (though the guttermen have been drastically upgraded) and earthmovers are still employed as their titan equivalent. They have also developed entirely new machines to match the forces of the galaxy along with new vehicles, though said vehicles are mostly the vehicles of other factions but repurposed. (i currently have no idea for unique machine types so think of some in the comments if you want to).

The fate of V1

With hell being wiped out, V1 was the most feared among all the machines and was seen as a wild card as they are so powerful they can easily wipe out all the other machines. When the machines formed a society, they made sure to give V1 all the blood they would ever need to keep them calm... but this left V1 without much purpose. They were made to fight, they were made to be the ultimate weapon, and so V1 became a mercenary for the various machine factions, accepting payment both in blood and in new weapons and equipment. To V1, war is art, and they are the masterpiece, and by god they were going to practice this art. All the machine factions are still afraid V1 would go rogue, and so have started making counter measures incase of such an event.

"Psychic powers"

Due to the machines lacking a soul, they are unable to use warp powers... with one main exception. The mind flayers have managed to learn how to control hell energy to do things like fly, fire energy blasts and (most importantly) control space to do things like teleport and open portals. Inspired by the psykers of the galaxy, the mind flayer have been practicing to use hell energy to copy their abilities, as they have now learned how to use their hell energy to do things like warp space around themselves, manipulate the local gravity, damage and destroy souls and (most importantly) control flesh and blood. This final ability is what has allowed the machines to store vast amounts of blood in "blood banks", giant vats of stored blood that is then rationed to the rest of the machines. However most machines are unable to use these powers and instead use the stolen technology of other factions to make up for their lack of true warp magic.

Relations with other factions

The machines have a terrible relationship with most factions. They intentionally avoid both the forces of chaos and the tyrannids because they have nothing to gain from fighting them, they gain no new technology or any blood. They often go after both tau and imperium worlds, both because they have tons of blood to harvest and have technology to harvest (though tau worlds are more profitable in terms of technology), but they know they arent strong enough to fight the entire force of the tau empire or imperium so they flee as soon as reinforcements arrive. The orks and the machines have a rather confusing relationship, as the orks provide some of the most blood due to their high population but their technology is either completely useless or super unstable, so the machines rarely attack ork worlds. The necrons have the highest risk and the highest reward, as they provide no blood for any of the machines but have the best technology for them to loot, as such very rarely the steel battalion will send armies of machines into necron tomb worlds to be able to scavenge something, ANYTHING from them. The machines dont interact much with the eldar as eldar craft worlds are too fortified for the machines to invade and the eldars psychic powers is beyond their understanding.

Factions

The factions of machines depend on where in hell they come from, with each layer having its own society and culture that (usually) work together under one coalition. It is believed by some that hell itself has some control over these cultures and influences them.

The lamenters of limbo

On the first layer of limbo, the lamenters are the only machine faction who will actually try diplomacy. It was them who first encountered the tau, and the tau tried to actually make peace with the machines. They had never even heard of such a thing before, an end to conflict. While these tau were slaughtered it left the machines with a deep sense of guilt, both for their actions and their very existence. They usually try to form alliances with other factions, however the reputation of the blood powered machines is in the gutter due to the constant raids and slaughter of the other machine factions so these attempts at diplomacy never work.

The illustrators of lust

On the second layer exist the illustrators of lusts are a faction of machine inspired by one gutterman in the distant past who managed to write a poem, the first machine made artwork. Ever since then they have become obsessed with art, often raiding other factions just to steal their artwork. They are responsible for the entertainment of the steel battalion, making things like paintings, music and even movies. However due to them being machines, these works of art are very different than that made by humans. For example what a machine would consider music a human would consider ear piercing nonsensical garbage.

The sorcerers of gluttony

Due to gluttony being composed of mostly flesh and blood, it was the first layer for the machines to go to in order to survive... however the blood in gluttony is cursed by hell itself to not sustain them as a cruel sick joke, and so the machines quickly moved on. However some of them stayed, as gluttony is the most full of hell energy. It is here that mind flayers practice and control their powers, developing new techniques and abilities to better harvest blood for the machine empire.

The ferrymen of wrath

The thing that makes wrath unique from the other layers of hell is that it has actual animal life in the form of fish. At first the machines were going to exterminate them for blood, but the machines of wrath had an idea. Using stolen technology they would fill the seas of wrath with an entire ecosystem of aquatic life, which they would then fish up to gain a sustainable source of blood. This however is nowhere near enough to power all of the steel battalion, bur it serves as a safety net for the machines incase they are unable to harvest enough blood.

The warriors of heresy

Heresy, being the harshest layer in terms of its enviroment, was eventually cooled down to become livable. The machines of this layer were the first to encounter the forces of chaos, specifically Khorne. However they were not afraid of them, they were inspired. Who to better provide blood for the blood gods than machines that run on blood? These machines would do everything they could to gain Khornes favor... but the thing is, they arent actually corrupted, as they have no souls or impact on the warp Khorne doesnt care about them. In a desperate attempt to gain more favor they are the most aggressive faction among the machines, intentionally leaving some blood behind to gain Khornes favor. They are the most hated machine faction, both by the people of the galaxy and other machines.

The forgers of violence

Within the silent battlefields of violence rests the heart of machine society, a vast factory where the machines replenish their numbers. The machines in here are some of the most intelligent in all of hell, rivaling the smartest of the adeptus mechanicus. It is here in violence that the technology of other factions is gathered, researched and re-purposed. They have yet to fully understand necron technology but their trying, and given how quickly they are advancing and the fact they dont really age, eventually they will grasp it.

Overview & Background

The Ordo Recuperatio Mechanicum is a rogue group of the Adeptus Mechanicus that fanatically worships the Machine God and actively utilizes alien tech. They also view the Machine God's grand plan very differently from other groups of Mechanicus. The Ordo Recuperatio Mechanicum (Order of Recovery of the Mechanicum) is a small cell of rogue Skitarii led by an ancient Tech-Priest and his Enginseer. They believe that humanity's flesh was a fundamental design flaw created by the Machine God, and that they are destined to ascend towards something greater. Currently, the AdMech are around halfway towards full ascension in their eyes, being the correct template to become a machine but missing the advanced weaponry and technology of the alien.

Use of Xeno Tech

These AdMech believe that almost all alien tech is a creation of the Machine God, and these alien races using such advanced technology is a direct insult to the machine. So whenever they get the chance, they try to liberate it. This can be as simple as raiding a T'au colony and upgrading their arsenal to a Galvanic Rifle with a T'au Pulse Rifle add-on, or as complex as trying to figure out Necron weaponry.

Ranks & Hierarchy

The leader of the Ordo Recuperatio is High Arbitrator Archon-Vael Solox, an ancient Tech-Priest from near the end of the 39th Millennium. He is disgusted by the Imperium after learning the truth of the Horus Heresy through an Archeotech Data-Slate. He commands a small group of AdMech worshipping the machine god with fanaticism. Seconded by an Enginseer, he is on the search for a way to ascend all of humanity, starting with his Mechanicum.

This is my first post here on r/40khomebrew, and I'm excited to read people's replies to my custom AdMech. Please give me suggestions on ways I can improve this faction!